#sometime time miracles from the little flower are small things like this

[choosingnamesmakesmenervous]

I gotta say, St. Therese of Lisieux really came through today on her feast day. Right now my 2 year old daughter is going through a screaming tuna phase during Mass but today after I anointed her with Therese oil she was perfectly calm and payed attention.

[eskumii]

❝ TROPHY WIFE ❞ — yandere!uzui tengen/wives + you're his first wife

SYNOPSIS: suppose you're uzui tengen's very first wife, the one that slipped through the cracks of your unwanted arranged marriage with him. along with your disappearance went his heart, and now you must bear the consequences of a man who loves his wife far beyond her understanding—so much so that he would kill for her, die for her, and do anything to make her stay. — navi.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

NOTES: mdni! (cw: non-con) this is an arranged/forced marriage au. it's meant to be one-sided. it took me quite literally forever to finish this lol ,,

PAIRING: yandere!uzui tengen x wife!reader

CHARACTERS: uzui tengen (19-23), reader (18-22), suma (19), makio (20), hinatsuru (21)

I. TO BE WED

imagine being uzui tengen's very first wife.

your hand in marriage was promised to him by your parents, who owned a tax-collecting business that was often the target of hostility from the impoverished people of your hometown. tengen routinely passed through your village on demon slayer business, so your parents could always rest assured knowing he would take care of the violent stragglers that sometimes loitered outside.

ironically being poor themselves, they had little to offer the hashira as payment for his noble duties; well, that "little" didn't exclude you of course, their only daughter who's failed to find a husband far past the age of when other girls were normally wed. you're still young, fertile, and moderately attractive, but your strong disinterest in potential suitors often drove any chances of a wealthy marriage away.

however, after being introduced to tengen, the man you'll be forced to marry out of obligation, you begin to regret being so stubborn after all.

admittedly, tengen found you to be pretty plain at first. you're poor so you can't exactly dress flashy, and you come from a no-name family with little legacy. your parents swore up and down on your domestic efficiency—hardworking, great cook, a tame disposition—and, well, at least you're kind of cute, too. tengen is intrigued by your potential the most.

your parents force you to do whatever you can to get close to him. the truth is, though, you don't really have to do anything with the way he seeks you out himself. he often shows up at your door asking for you, and your parents have no qualms about dragging you out of your room to make you go out with him.

he takes you to the nicer parts of town and pays for dinner or buys you flowers and little trinkets from the shop vendors that line the streets. it doesn't help that the elderly people running the stands egg you on, saying things like "what a lovely young couple" or "your children would be so beautiful!" tengen simply smiles with ease, accepting their praise as if it's second nature. you get rather embarrassed by his shameless indulgence.

there's small talk but you find it incredibly stifling. tengen does a majority of the dialoguing but most of the time your dates get interrupted by his kasugai crow, who squawks at him whenever a demon shows up nearby. he always looks annoyed and promises to make it up to you, leaning down to pat your head like you're his pet dog or something. you hate it and him too, probably.

"i'll be back before you know it, darling," his smile is charming but not to you. "you'll stay right here for me, won't you?"

regardless of your somewhat obvious hesitance to accept his advances, tengen gets attached to you like it was meant to be. the idea of having a pretty little housewife for him to come home to after his draining missions becomes increasingly attractive, and the more time he spends with you, the more he sees the appeal of your being. it must be a miracle that no man has taken you as his wife yet; surely you were saving yourself for a man like him.

unfortunately, though, you don't want to marry tengen.

an arranged marriage? it's simply not the kind of life you envision for yourself. you aren't willing to bet the rest of your days on a man whom you have a slim chance of falling in love with, all for the sake of financial security. but what else can you do? your parents already made it very clear they would disown you if you refuse, and tengen is pressuring you to your death with his sweet words and annoyingly thoughtful presents. you're stuck.

eventually, the incessant nagging from your parents and weeks of endless courting from tengen sway you so sooner. you fold like a cheap hand fan and succumb to your fate, to a future you knew from the very beginning that you would come to despise.

he's the only suitor you have at this point. it's not like you have a choice. and the one choice you do have just so happens to be him, a man who is the nearest thing to a perfect match as you're ever gonna get. you should be happy. thankful. he'll give you the world if you just give him a chance.

at least, that's what he told you.

II. THE SOUND HASHIRA

your parents are so happy to send you off.

they're completely honored that their letdown of an only daughter is finally getting married—to a well-known and wealthy shinobi at that. it's the only time they've shown any pride in you, yet it really only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

after your brief introduction to the head of tengen's clan, everything moves so quickly. just a couple weeks later, you're already signing a marriage contract in which you and tengen become official newlyweds. and before you know it, you're packing what little belongings you have to your name and moving in with him, begrudgingly and regretfully so.

the day you arrive, he shows you around his overwhelmingly gigantic residence; the courtyard full of cherry blossoms and koi ponds, the huge kitchen, and the bedroom where he'll eventually fully claim you. there's lots of other rooms too, but they're either empty or reserved for his weapons and training gear. he tries to hide it but he's obviously so over the moon that you're his wife now. he doesn't even notice your misery through his elated delusion of love.

in hindsight, you didn't realize how difficult it can be to share a space with someone you hardly know. you find everything awkward but tengen doesn't, like always. to him, you're so obedient and polite— such a good girl. you take whatever he gives you; kisses, hugs, subtle gropes here and there, and all of his sweet compliments and gifts. you don't argue with him or raise your voice, you fret over his injuries and make his favorite foods. you're observant, collected, and mature.

he didn't have a type before he met you—you're all he can ask for in a woman, really.

tengen is unexpectedly romantic. he constantly boasts about his strength and fighting skills in order to impress you, and he never stops mouthing off about how he'll prioritize you over himself. he puts consistent effort in getting to know you: what you like, don't like, your favorite color, and any other inkling of your personality that he can manage to wrestle out of you. he seems to have gotten the impression that you're shy or something.

flowers are a constant and you're spoiled with fancy, expensive kimonos and jewelry. had you married tengen under literally any other circumstance, you'd find his advances on you endearing but, unfortunately, he just comes off as clingy and unbearable. any woman would die to be in your place yet you can't even find it in you to want to be in your own place.

what do you think of him, though? well, he's handsome, you'll give him that. you don't deny the appeal of his good looks and flashy, fitted clothing. he's strong, established, and knows what he wants. despite your obvious distaste towards his gifts and grandiose personality, it's not to say you're ungrateful that the man you're stuck with is exceedingly well-off and capable of protecting you. you can't say he's a bad guy.

however, he's a moron.

he fell for you fast. a couple months have already passed since coming to live in his residence. tengen requests to have picnics whenever you go with him to visit his siblings' graves on his off days. of course you have no reason to refuse; as much as you dislike him, you're not heartless. they're important days, so you swallow your pride and pack a bento spread you know he'll like.

tengen will confide in you about the memories of his late siblings, his parents, and his life before becoming a hashira. it's a depressing and heavy weight to shoulder, but you still play your role of the loving, supportive wife with your lingering touches and comforting words. you use these outings as opportunities to gain his trust by being vulnerable.

except, this time, the effect you seem to have on tengen is magnified to the point of no return.

he pulls you into his lap and you're suddenly flush against his rock hard chest, trapped in a suffocating hug. you don't know what prompted his sudden affection; perhaps it was the warm atmosphere you crafted or the intimacy of the moment, but the way tengen holds you so close is telling. he's about to say something you've been dreading since the day you met him.

"i love you." tengen confesses, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing as if he'd just released the weight of the world off of his shoulders.

you knew it. it's the first time he's ever said it to you and you'll never forget the wave of nausea that hit you as you glanced up to see him staring back at you expectantly. your heart is pumping out of your chest and your face is flustered—not because you're flattered but because you're ashamed. you feel his hands squeeze your shoulders, almost like a warning, and his grip begins to feel claustrophobic after your prolonged silence.

you have no choice but to reciprocate.

"...I love you too." your voice is quiet, hesitant, and tengen gently teases you about being shy when you refuse to look at him anymore. he's not right but it's true that lying invokes shame.

he almost seems overwhelmed by your response, as if he hadn't just nonverbally threatened it out of you. you don't dare to sneak even a glance at him. he tightens his embrace around you and goes back to burying his face abashedly into your neck, mumbling sweet words against your skin. his body wraps around you like a vice, trapping you in the prison that is his dreadful existence.

you decide, in that very moment, that there was nothing in the world you wanted to do more than run away.

III. A DIRE MISTAKE

one fateful day, you catch wind of the news that tengen is being assigned on a mission quite far away, somewhere down in the southwest. 

you're so lucked out that you thought it was a trap at first���a ploy to catch you in your undying desire to leave your husband for good. but when the day of departure arrives and tengen peppers your face with last minute kisses, you know for sure that there's no chance he's caught on to your resentment towards him, nor the plan of escape you've been devising all along.

your eyes are teary when tengen releases you from the last of his spine-crushing hugs and he cooes at your cute crying face. honestly, you're tearing up out of joy because your one and only chance to escape has literally fallen into your lap in a pleated handbasket, but you'll let him believe otherwise. you at least owe him the courtesy. 

you already know you don't stand a chance against tengen, at least physically. he can overpower you like nothing and he's so tall that he towers over you, constantly caging you between those muscled arms of his. there's almost nothing you could do against a man like him—well, unless you count poisoning, but you were above murder when it came to getting what you wanted. 

as soon as tengen passes through the looming gates of the residence and disappears down the winding road, you scramble to gather a few belongings before making your way out through the back. there's a twinge of fear that grips your gut but you press on, determined to put as much space between you and that wretched place you were expected to call home. 

the moment you escaped, you flipped your identity. chopped your hair off, powdered your face in white make-up, and wore headscarves wherever you went. you fled as far as your feet would take you, only stopping to rest in a small village when your aching body could take you no further. you hardly spoke to anyone and left nothing behind that could possibly be traced back to you or be used to pursue you. 

it's obvious you can't go back to your parents; they hated you when you lived with them, and they'd hate you more if you returned. they'd sell you out to tengen in two seconds flat, then ruthlessly shame you for running away from a marriage you wanted no part in. the only option left for you is to create a new life for yourself somewhere far, far away. 

and that's exactly what you do. you find a little town on the outskirts of the red light district, where business is booming and it's easy to disguise yourself beneath the constant foot traffic. you go undercover as a seamstress, working in a homely tailor shop under the supervision of the owners, who are a kind older couple that are quick to regard of you as one of their own. 

time marches on and the jarring memories of tengen do as well. you makes friends with the regulars that come by the store often. you've learned the valuable trade of mending clothing and sewing traditional patterns. you've even developed a crush on one of the men that come by often to repair his work uniform.

your life is finally the way you've always wanted it to be. 

meanwhile, tengen copes—barely. days pass. weeks. months. you're still yet to be found, even with the help of all the hashira and the shinobi of his clan. it's as if you disappeared off the face of the planet. he's completely devastated. did you run away because he was gone for so long? were you feeling neglected? did you just want his attention? surely you wouldn't just up and leave when he'd been so loving; he truly couldn't think of anything that would prompt such an extreme reaction. 

as expected, he doesn't come up with a justification for your disappearance. how could he? you could be dead by now with the amount of demon uprisings that have been happening lately. or you could even be halfway across the world right now, laughing at how easily you had fooled him. eventually, his sadness melts into anger. you may be gone now, but it won't be for long. 

wherever you are, he'll find you. 

IV. 'TIL DEATH DO HIM PART

in the following years, tengen's next three wives are chosen specifically by the head of his clan.

and, in the head of the clan's words: "the sound hashira's decision-making must be incredibly poor if he chose a wife who would dare flee from him." the statement only fans the flames of his growing wrath for you. 

however, his new wives—suma, makio, and hinatsuru—are all beautiful and talented kunoichi who admire him to their very cores. as ungrateful as it sounds, there isn't a day where tengen wishes one of them were you. they've worked so hard to try and fill the gaping hole in his existence that was left by you, but it hasn't really been working. he needs you.

they're kind, caring, nurturing and most of all, strong. they've trained all their lives to be kunoichi. he knows he shouldn't complain but they just don't cook like you, look like you... aren't you. of course he loves them, but he could never forget the way his heart shattered the day he returned home to find you nowhere in sight. your disappearance left him in utter shambles. did you ever think about that when you left? you're so unbelievably selfish—is that the kind of woman you turned out to be? 

his wives constantly question his lovesick behavior. tengen never hides anything from them; in fact, he'll sometimes go on long, borderline maniacal rambles about "the wife who got away." to suma, makio, and hinatsuru, you're an enigma that's broken the heart of their husband, and they're not sure what it was about you that makes him act this way. jealousy sparks—if there's a way to get you back to make tengen happy, they would do it, but maybe you're better off gone after all. 

and it's not like tengen didn't search for you. oh no, he looked everywhere within reason. his duties as a hashira kept him chained to his missions near the demon slayers' headquarters, but that never stopped him from interrogating people when he got the chance. any woman that looked even remotely similar to you was sure to be stopped in the middle of the street for further investigation. 

master kagaya is exceedingly understanding of the situation, and he bears obvious concern for his beloved sound hashira. while he's sympathetic of the loss of his wife—it's no matter to be taken lightly, of course—tengen must first be loyal to his occupation as a hashira, and that means going on missions in spite of his mourning. 

and his newest missions leads him to the red light district. 

so tengen goes. he knows his place when it comes to master kagaya, so he has no reason or authority to deny orders. regardless, it's a harrowing and tedious task. drunk concubines practically throw themselves into tengen's arms as he strolls past the many underground sex clubs that line the filthy streets. he has zero interest in any of the debauchery that goes on here, and he especially feels nothing when shoving them away from him with excessive force. 

he scours the area for anyplace that looks decent enough to step foot in, as well as a place where he won't get immediately harassed by ran through harlots. turning down a quieter side street where some storefronts have been shuttered, he happens upon a small seamstress shop sandwiched between two restaurants that look as if they've closed early for the evening. 

shrugging, tengen wearily thinks it's as good of a place as any to begin his intel gathering on the upper moons' whereabouts. he saunters towards the front entrance and a young woman dressed in traditional geisha wear passes him on the sparsely populated road, her wooden sandals clacking against the ground. he can't help but think her hair looked similar to yours and his heart twists painfully in his chest. 

tengen seems to be constantly haunted by the thought of you, forming an obsession in his mind that won't go away until he has you back. until he knows your safe, with him, just like you were meant to be. until he sees you. 

no, literally, tengen sees you, right in front of him. 

through the window of the upscale seamstress shop, he sees you conversing with a man at the front counter, laughing heartily at a joke he must have made. tengen quickly crouches beneath the display window to spy on you, his heart pounding out of his chest at the events that are currently unfolding. he must be mistaken. 

he peeks above the lip of the window to catch a glance and, sure enough, it is you. you're alive and well, almost glowing beneath the low, intimate lighting inside the shop. 

he finally found you! he can't believe it. the grin that's stretching across his face is so broad. he'd recognize your face anywhere, even if it's caked in geisha makeup and your hair elaborately styled. you’re beautiful and he’s captivated by your beauty just as he was the day that he met you. 

he's so unbelievably ecstatic with the way his hands are clamming up, his feet shuffling in the dirt and... 

what?

creeping over the ledge of the display window once again, tengen's eyes immediately grow dark. there's a man there. talking to you. his wife. 

in the midst of your conversation, your eyes absently float over to the window. it's there that your gaze clashes with his, and a blood-curdling look of terror overtakes your features. is that… tengen? 

there's a shift in the air. what happens next, tengen doesn't recall, but when he comes to there's blood on his hands and your hair is bundled up in his fist as he drags you past the threshold the of the shop’s entrance. he looks over his shoulder and on the floor, spread eagle, lies the man without his head. the scene is gruesome.

he killed him. 

tengen looks down at you with a solemn gaze. for some reason, he doesn't even care. the emotions running through him are almost too much to bear. do you know how much your disappearance has destroyed him? do you know how much he's suffered because of you? do you even care? 

he doesn't understand why you're crying. it seems like you were happy enough to whore around with other men in his absence. the thought drives him to the brink of insanity. how much longer do you plan on humiliating him? 

there's too much to be said. tengen's mouth is agape and he's so upset at you that he can't find the right words to express himself. instead, he collapses to the floor beside you and embraces you in his longing arms. he smells your hair and feels how your body shrinks against his—it's all exactly how it used to be. it's exactly as he remembered, as he dreamed of. 

and now, as tengen scoops you up into his arms to take you back home, another dream of his will be fulfilled tonight. he knows exactly what kind of punishment is befit for you. 

V. A JUST PUNISHMENT — (NSFW: NON-CON)

"tengen-sama! you're ba-" 

a woman with colored bangs and a ponytail attempts to greet tengen as he enters, but she's cut off by not only the expression on his face but also the strange, disheveled woman he's hauling behind him. 

he drags you across the cold, laminated wood floors into the bedroom by your hair and peels the delicate, silken layers of your yukata back, exposing soft flesh and ample curves. tengen is so starved of your touch—of your voice, your scent, you. he'll make you pay for what you put him through. he'll make you stay this time. 

you can't even fight back. you're so afraid of what's going to happen that your body refuses to move, to speak. and even if you could, there was no way you would win against a hashira, of all people. 

tengen starts by pushing you to your knees. when his hands begin the hasty work of undoing the belt of his kimono, you already know where this is going and it makes your stomach churn in volatile sickness. he eagerly slides his under pants down and from the top of its elastic band springs his semi-hard cock, which nearly hits you in the face. you gasp at the sheer size of it; that is not gonna fit inside of you.

"don't look at me like that, [name]. clearly i was too lenient with you back then. i should've disciplined you..." he trails off as he stares into your pleading eyes. he smiles but, in it, is no mercy.

"c'mon, baby. you'll be a good girl and open your mouth for me, won't you?" 

you refuse. no, you wouldn't even dream of it. you've never done anything sexual with a man before and you certainly aren't going to wi—

tengen suddenly reaches down and grabs ahold of your now tangled hair with one of his large hands. it takes barely any pressure before your mouth is pried open by the force of his fingers alone, and his now engorged cock head is being stuffed into your warm, unyielding mouth. 

you can only let out a choked cry at the vile intrusion. 

"that's it, baby, good girl.." he praises, stroking your head with his thumb as he slowly inches his pulsing cock down your throat. 

your screams are completely muffled. tengen begins to pick up the pace, letting your drool be the lubricant that allows his giant dick to slide in and out of your tight throat. it hurts so bad that you try to bite down and free yourself from this act of vulgarity, but tengen doesn't allow it. he instead tugs your head back by the grip he has on your hair, forces his cock all the way in, and holds you there until you decide to behave yourself. 

you can hardly breath. lewd, wet noises fill the room as tengen gags you almost to the point of unconsciousness. the vibrations from your screaming must have been making him feel good, though, because it takes just a few minutes before he's shuddering in orgasm as he bottoms out and cums, which you have no choice but to swallow. 

he pulls out of your mouth and you're mortified, but even more so when you see how he's still hard. his cock is covered in a thick layer of your saliva and his cum drips onto your exposed chest in globs that make you cringe in disgust. you think you're going to throw up. 

and you almost do, if it weren't for tengen picking you up from under your arms and tossing you onto the plush bedding. your legs are forced open and tengen slides his twitching cock against your pussy, slowly and teasingly. you begin to fight against him but he easily pins you down long enough to push his fat cock head into your tight pussy. 

tengen pounds you into the plush cushion of the futon all night long. you've given up struggling and crying, only mewling in pain as the brutish man stretches your virgin pussy wide. he ruthlessly kneads your breasts with his calloused palms and overstimulates your clit with his fingers until you cream and squirt repeatedly all over his dick. you can do nothing but lay there as he roughly moves your body into various positions and fills your womb with his seed—there's no way you won't be pregnant after this. 

all the pent up rage that tengen was forced to weather after your disappearance is released in that very room. he sounds like a crazy man with the way he lapses in and out of fits of rage where he's cursing at you with his hands around your throat, then slipping into pleasure induced "i love you's" as he dumps yet another load of cum deep inside of you. 

"h-how does it feel, my love?" he groans, reaching over to caress your flushed face. "mm, you sound so cute making those noises. lemme hear you scream, darling."

and oh, you sure do scream. for him to stop, to get off of you. that you've had enough. that you hate him. over and over again you scream, you cry, and you struggle, but it does you no good. he only seems to thrust faster the more you beg. is he getting off to your desperation? he must be by the way his cock pulses at any form of physical resistance from you. 

you thought it would never end. he's almost insatiable. your tears have long dried up—for the most part, anyway—but the skin on your face feels raw from tengen "lovingly" wiping all your tears and snot away while simultaneously pounding a you-shaped hole into the futon. you feel disgusting. you don't even have the strength to make a sound when he spanks you for the hundredth time, moaning heatedly about how you've been such a bad, bad girl. 

when it seems like he's finally spent, he doesn't pull out. instead, he collapses on top of you with his cock still twitching inside your sloppy, ruined cunt while drawing you in for an unreciprocated kiss. he whispers praises in your ear and gently strokes your face, cooing at how much you're trembling against his much larger form. 

"i should've done this a long time ago. maybe you wouldn't have left if i dumped my kids into you sooner." 

eventually, his softened cock slips out of you and a gush of warmth runs down your legs; you can already feel a soreness settling in your pelvis. tengen sighs contentedly at the sopping squelch that sounds when you snap your legs shut in order to roll as far away from him as possible. he roughly wraps a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you back towards him as soon as he sees your attempt to create distance. 

"i missed you so much, darling," tengen mumbles against your skin breathily, offering a soft smile. "did you enjoy your welcome back?" 

he's making fun of you. you refuse to even look at him. it's to be expected, really, he can't imagine how bad it must feel to think you actually got away from him as you lay in his arms once again, right where you belong. you need to learn your place; no wife of his will disrespect him like you did ever again. if you have to be an example of that, then so be it—youput this on yourself, after all. 

leaving you with a final kiss, he gets up, wraps a towel around his waist, and goes to let his other wives into the room to help clean you up (they've been waiting patiently ever since you showed up, curious about the woman who supposedly "stole tengen's heart," as he put it). you're still naked and exposed with tengen's cum leaking down your thighs but you don't even have the mental capacity to care anymore. all three of the girls look shocked at the state you're in, but they don't comment and rush to get you in the bath. 

they're all very pretty, of course. when you emerge from your haze of disorientation, you're left reeling at the fact that tengen had amassed three whole wives in light of your absence. well, not that you have any right to be surprised considering your short lived emotional affair. you're still in mourning over what had happened to him. 

regardless of your fragile state, the three women swarm you with questions that prod at your past: who you are, where you're from, and how you met tengen. you don't even have half the mind to reply. you can only stare at your tear-stricken reflection in the soapy water, ready to burst into tears yet again at the horrible predicament you've found yourself in. 

what can you do now? sit around and get bred by tengen? rot away in this dreadful house for the rest of your life? the other wives seem to catch onto your unresponsiveness after a couple dozen of their questions go ignored, so they sit quietly and gently wash you clean. they look genuinely worried for you—not that their pity will undo the damage that's already been done. 

makio will scrub your back and grumble about how jealous she is while suma and hinatsuru fret over the small bruises that are now beginning to form around your hips from tengen's manhandling. suma washes your hair next, commenting on how beautiful it is, while the other two move onto rinsing the soap from your body. they wrap you up in a fluffy towel when it's over, and a shiver wracks your spine when their hands guide you to another room, down the hall, with a clean bed ready for you to rest in. 

you don't really know who they are but since they're dressed like kunoichi, it's obvious that they don't share the same mindset you do, or were forced to be wed to tengen like you were. you can't ask them to help you escape from this hell, not a chance. 

even as you lay in the criminally comfortable futon with new silken pajamas, a cup of cold water at your side, and a warm blanket, sleep doesn't find you. 

and with tengen around, you're certain it never will. 

VI. A HAPPY EVER AFTER (EXTRA)

a few months later, your pregnancy symptoms are in full swing.

tengen is as protective as ever and the other wives have already grown attached to you despite your bitter and unforgiving attitude towards them. you learn quickly that they're all very... obsessive, constantly hovering over you and going to overbearing extremes to make sure you don't do anything that would physically strain yourself in any way.

hinatsuru and makio follow at your heels like guard dogs while suma takes charge of most of the cooking and cleaning. she keeps the peace most of the time and holds makio back when she's attempting to murder hinatsuru over something childish. you're never in the mood to talk to them, however, and they often try to bribe you with your favorite sweets (which is intel that they've gathered from tengen) in order to get you to participate in their activities.

unluckily for you, tengen had decided to completely retire from being a hashira following a particularily harrowing encounter with an upper moon demon (even after you tried to subtly guilt trip him into not doing so). he insisted that you and the baby were "more important." you know that it'd be difficult to escape with the other wives around but to add tengen on top of that makes it surely impossible. 

every morning, the dreadful man himself meets the four of you in the kitchen and will beam proudly at the sight of his adorable little harem. he goes down the line and gives affection to each of his wives individually, in the way they prefer, and saves you for last as you're his "greatest prize," or whatever he said. you're just completely exhausted and you resent them all from the deepest depths of your heart. the least you can do is make it obvious. 

tengen finds your rebellion adorable. everything about you is and even moreso now than when you left him all those years ago. he'll grab you by the jaw and force you into a quick one-sided kiss, pulling away with that fond smile of his. his fingers ghost over your swelling tummy but his very touch makes you feel so awfully sick. you'll roughly push him away and he's so out of his mind that he attributes your justified anger and moodiness to your "pregnancy hormones." regardless, he's happy. it's you who's going to bear his child. it's you who first said you loved him too. as long as you live, you're bound to him as his wife. nothing can come between a man and the woman he loves; uzui tengen certainly made sure of that, didn't he?

[kmt123whatsthetea]

I Get a Kick Out Of You

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

A sequel to Something Stupid

Requested by @saintlike05

A/N: I am so sorry that this took so long. But I'm finally here to write and continue with the Frank Sinatra title theme.

T/W: Make up sex, Unprotected sex, Double Penetration, Anal, Spitting, Food play?, Teensy bit of hair pulling

If you told this story to others, you'd get a different response.

Mrs Weasley said it was fate that you walked into the shop and back into her son's lives. Hermione jokingly played it off as your brain needing the comforting colour of orange that you lost when you broke up with the twins. But the twins themselves, they called it a miracle.

It was even more miraculous that you agreed to give it another go.

The twins had discussed it after you left. They realised how careless they had been and that you only left because of their actions. Your leaving was their consequence.

They had agreed to be better for your sake. The only people they would prank from now on would be their customers, their family members, and you from time to time.

It was George's idea to have a make up date, only to mask Fred’s idea of make up sex. They planned it all. A candlelit dinner with flowers, your favourite food, and a muggle CD of some guy called Frank Sinatra that Hermione had recommended (they had gone to her for advice on how to make the perfect date after Ginny had turned them away, claiming that it was gross to think of her brother's having sex).

After that, it was all set. The clock was counting down until your scheduled arrival. Even Fred was nervous, more so than he had been on the first date.

Your first date with the twins was one to remember. You had gotten many weird looks from the other Hogsmead patrons when you gave both boys a rather loving peck on the lips. Sometimes the twins worried that the love triangle would be the thing to end your relationship. What if you did want both of them? What if you wanted someone else? Or even worse…

…What if you wanted just one of the twins?

The twins were alike in every way possible. They each had that very thought but didn't realise that the other shared it. Of course they knew that you loved them both equally, but it was still a fear that remained.

When you knocked on the door, it took both men a good minute before they rushed to let you in. Their dopey smiles remained throughout the time you took your coat off to the time you sat at the small table in the twins kitchen. They treated you like a princess throughout the little ‘make-up date’. They waited on you and even cooked you your favourite dinner (which you’re certain tasted like Molly’s cooking, but you appreciated the thought)

When dinner was finished and George took your plates, Fred smirked your way.

“Maybe we could make dessert a little more…enjoyable?”

At first, you thought Fred was being his regular old self. That was until George came back carrying a bowl of strawberries and a can of whipped cream.

Fred took a hold of the whipped cream and brushed your hair aside beside squirting a small blob of the canned goodness onto your neck. His tongue followed suit, licking it all up until there was more saliva than cream on your neck. Both men knew which spots would make you keen and practically melt, which is why Fred paid extra special attention to those sweet spots.

The bowl of strawberries sat forgotten while your sensitive neck became the perfect pairing for the whipped cream. George took the can from his brother and repeated similar licks on the other side. Soon, your neck was coated in a thin veil of saliva and cream.

They had always said that you were sweeter than any dessert.

George picked you up in his arms, securing his hands on your thighs while Fred moved his hands to your hips, keeping you boxed between their chests. Your skirt was riding up, making their job even easier. Fred pulled your underwear to the side before bringing his hand to his mouth and spitting on his fingertips. He used his spit as lube, rubbing it from your clit and over your folds before massaging your tight hole. Fred leaned his face close to your ear.

“Can you take us both, love? I know how much of a little nympho you can be”

You had done anal before, but never both at once. During sex, you always used your mouth or your pussy. George guided your eyes back to him by a gentle finger on your chin.

“It's okay if you can't take it, baby. We just want to make you feel good”

Without hesitation, you nodded eagerly.

“I can take it”

Fred’s horny devil took over. He positioned his tip at the tight ring of muscle and slowly started pushing. Your grip on George's shoulders tightened, and he kept his firm yet gentle hold on your chin. He made sure that you focused on him while Fred bottomed out.

George gestured down and you knew that he was asking for help removing his cock from his trousers since both of his hands were holding you up by your thighs. You unzipped his trousers and pushed his boxers down, just enough to uncover the prize inside. You guided him to your folds as best you could, before he lowered you down. The stretch of both of their cocks inside of you made your chest feel tight, like your breath was robbed. Their cocks were literally breathtaking.

The twins took turns thrusting, making sure that you were stretched around one of them at all times. A symphony of moans and obscene squelches filled the air, followed by the lingering smell of sex. That coil in your stomach slowly got tighter and tighter. George could feel your walls squeezing his cock so he shot Fred a glance over your shoulder. Fred gently pulled your hair back to get your attention.

“Does our pretty baby wanna cum? Why don't you show us just how much you missed us?”

That's all it took for you to fall apart in their arms. Your grip on George's shoulders tightened while you came down from your high. Even in your blissed out states, you liked to guess which of the twins would cum first. But they were twins through and through.

Both of your holes were filled with their warm cum almost simultaneously. Neither twin pulled out or let you down. Even when their muscles started to get tired, they kept a hold of you.

Literally or figuratively, the twins would always keep a hold of you. Because you were the only one who had been given the keys to their hearts.

And they would do anything to get you back.

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter two || extortion

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. will have a happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 6.1k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

The smell of cherry blossoms brought a smile to your face as sunlight spilled through the beautiful buds. It was your favorite time of the year and while you and Miriko didn't often share thoughts without intending to, you could feel the enjoyment and relaxation absolutely brimming from her soul. You didn't have it in you to cut her off completely during moments like this, even for both of your safety. Especially when in truth, this was what she enjoyed the most about a domestic life.

Your shoes scuffed quietly over the paved surface on the way to a small coffee shop. Nothing would hit the spot quite like tea on a day like this one.

A bell rings over your head as you push through the door of a small local shop. Smiling politely at the cashier, you order a London Fog. In a few short moments, you were sitting at a small table in the corner, browsing your phone while you quietly sip your tea. Every so often the small door bell would ring but you paid it little mind, sitting in your own world.

Every now and then you found yourself reflecting on the strange life you lived since Miriko awoke. It was too dangerous for you to live in the city, too dangerous for you to hold a normal job. You had gotten lucky that a wedding flower business had worked out at all for you, and even luckier that Miriko had graciously offered her gift to you to aid with that.

Even luckier was Miriko herself. What would have happened had she been a malicious curse? Would you have been put down by Gojo like so many other curses? Would Miriko have killed you? Would she have forced you to search for the remaining cursed object to awaken her after all these years? You often wondered why she seemed to have no interest in such a thing, but you weren't about to test your luck in asking. You trusted her with your life, and yet sometimes you found yourself fearing her. You often referred to her as a miracle, but there were moments that reminded you she was a curse.

The bell above the door jingles once more but you pay it no mind, focused on reading a book on your phone. That is, until Miriko’s warning of a curse-user catches your attention.

Raising your head, you lock eyes with an all-too-familiar white-haired man. At least, you assumed you were staring at one another from behind his black blindfold. A lump forms in your throat as he makes his way towards you without hesitation.

“Well if it isn’t miss y/n,” he greets you with a smug grin, pulling out the chair across from you and taking a seat without asking permission. He leans forward on the table, paying no mind to the frown you now dawned.

“I can’t help but feel like nothing I say to you ever seems to matter,” you grumble quietly, eyes narrowed behind your pink sunglasses. You cross your arms over your chest, setting your phone down on the table before you.

With a chuckle, the cocky man shrugs and leans back with arms crossed behind his head. “How’ve you been?”

Perplexed by the question, your features twist in confusion. Small talk? You didn’t know Gojo well but you knew well enough that he wasn’t one to seek you specifically out to chat, unless- oh shit. Had he come looking specifically for you? You swallow the lump in your throat at the realization that there was no world where he casually happened to stroll into your favorite coffee shop on the other end of town.

“What do you want, Gojo?”

His eyebrow raises at your hostility, though he’s quick to brush it off. “I want to know how you’ve been.” He grins as he pushes the two front feet of his chair off the ground.

“I was better five minutes ago,” you retort venomously, your eyes narrowed behind the tint of your rose glasses.

“Ouch,” he feigns hurt, “and here I thought I was reconnecting with an old friend.”

Shaking your head incredulously, you barely manage to keep your eyes from rolling. “Friends don’t kidnap each other.”

“Touché,” he hums, his smirk never once fading despite the topic. He leans forward, grabbing your tea and taking a sip to your complete and utter disbelief. The way he so confidently strode circles around you, how were you meant to make heads or tails of his actions? Could he possibly believe he had any good will left with you? Surely he knew he was in no place to be making requests of you after your last two meetings with him. And yet-

“Do you need something?” Your eyes widen slightly and you take in your surroundings, searching for other sorcerers, but there were none. Of course he had come on his own, this wasn’t a coincidence. Before he could respond, you questioned him further. “Wait, how did you find me? Did you follow me?” You lean forward as you accuse him of following you.

Matching your energy, your adversary leans forward on the table. “No, I didn’t follow you,” he grins, “I came to get coffee.” You had to fight the scoff in your throat at his blatant lie. “But now that I’ve got you here, I do have a favor to ask.”

This time you don’t fight the urge to roll your eyes, leaning back as you stare out the window. It’s too nice of a day to be getting harassed by Satoru Gojo. “You’re joking,” is all you mumble in response.

The white-haired man clicks his tongue. “Listen, I teach a group of students and one of them is just like you,” he says, his voice growing more serious. You dare to turn your gaze back towards him, examining the way he takes a sip of your tea as he leans in further. “The higher-ups want me to kill him when it comes to it. That’s not the world I want for this kid. That’s why I’m here.”

Given the Shibuya Incident a few months ago, you’re well aware of Sukuna’s vessel. Miriko was familiar with Sukuna and had filled you in on the details of the king of curses and his twenty cursed fingers.

“Gojo, if anything, you owe me after you showed up uninvited,” you respond exhaustedly. Gojo’s smirk falters as you rub your eyes in disbelief, blinking your eyes back open to see him still overly joyful. He was some asshole, expecting anything more from you given your current feelings towards him. “This isn’t my problem anyhow.”

“It will be,” his voice lowers. You stare discontentedly at him as he moves a hand through his snowy locks. “If he can’t control Sukuna when he gets the twentieth finger…” Gojo trails off, frowning. “I’ll win, of course,” he grins, narrowly missing your eyes rolling back into your head for what felt like the twentieth time this morning. His silence speaks volumes, the serious frown he dons all the information you need to know what he’s thinking.

“I’m not killing a kid,” you hiss, your voice low in the extremely public cafe setting. “You can tell me over and over it’s Sukuna, I am not-”

“I’m not asking you to,” he interrupts, letting out a long sigh. “It’s my job to prevent that outcome.”

There’s always a but.

“But,” he begins, leaning in further. “If I fail, if I can’t find a way to separate or defeat him,” he pauses again, lips parted. “I don’t think there’s anyone else capable of defeating him.”

You could only blink as you took in the information. Clearly he cared a great deal about his students. He was an asshole, not heartless. That became abundantly clear when he showed up at your door. You had to figure that he likely also believed that Miriko was whole, which you didn’t plan on correcting him about any time soon. On top of that, he was asking you for something that he didn’t understand the cost of. Sukuna’s death at the cost of your own life, of Miriko’s? Was that something you were willing to give?”

No. Do not humor him, y/n.

Miriko has been practically screaming since the moment he’d made the request, and you could do little more than ignore her despite the headache her outcries were bringing on.

“Let me get this straight,” you tell him, laying out the facts. “You want me to train the vessel to control Sukuna, or figure out how to separate them with my knowledge of being a vessel,” you glance up at him from where you were staring at what was once your London Fog. He nods, his carefree smirk returning. Oh how you hated that smirk and blindfold- “and if you fail, I have to kill him.”

“That about sums it up,” he grins all-too-cheerily.

“And if I say no?”

“Well, if Sukuna’s free you’ll end up fighting him at some point,” he shrugs slyly.

“So you’re extorting me,” you state blandly. “I agree and run the risk of having to kill someone, or I disagree and I run a bigger risk of killing someone.”

He shrugs, barely reacting. “Unless I succeed on my own,” his voice grows darker as he pulls his blindfold up just enough to see the sly glint in his eye. “But this is Sukuna we’re talking about.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you sigh. You weren’t left with much choice and between the draconic curse in your mind uttering obscenities at the man sat before you and the person in question both about to give you a headache, you could only rub your temples to attempt to alleviate your oncoming headache.

“If we both fail?”

He sits forward, nodding slowly. He had clearly considered the possibility whether he believed he would fail or not. “It’s a risk,” he admits. “But I have better odds this way.”

You ball your hand into a fist as you watch him take another sip of your London Fog. The audacity he had to walk in, take your drink, extort you, and all for what? An act of self-preservation? So that he stood a chance against Sukuna? He was using you. Your jaw clenches as you sigh, trying to contain your anger, your cursed energy flaring like a stoked fire.

That seems to be all he needs to see to realize he’s won as he gets to his feet, pushing your tea back across the table. “Careful, y/n,” he teases with a tilt of his head. “Wouldn’t want to lose control now, would we?” Miriko’s anger boiled alongside yours in your stomach, and you had to consider him incredibly lucky given that you were able to keep your own curse at bay. “Be packed, a driver will be at your place by noon,” he tells you as he strolls out the front door.

He never even ordered a coffee.

Liar.

–

You’d been dragging your feet on packing, debating the concept of leaving before a car could ever arrive. When it came down to it, he’d found you before and he would find you again. In fact, you had grown more and more certain over the past twenty four hours that he’d always had an eye on you, though you didn’t know enough about him or the Jujutsu Society to know exactly how.

The least you could be thankful for was that you rarely, if ever, used your technique beyond growing flowers for your business, a reversed version of your usual technique.

Your heart drops at the sound of tires rolling over the gravel path beyond your gate. Although Miriko didn’t say anything, you could feel her irritation growing. You didn’t share all of your thoughts or emotions with her unless they were strong, though with every encounter involving the head of the Gojo clan, you knew exactly how she felt at all times.

A knock at your front gate pulls your attention back to reality and with a wistful sigh, you make your way to the noise. Standing at the gate is a tall man with short black hair and glasses. He greets you kindly, introducing himself as Ijichi, and you greet him in return. He offers to take your bags and opens the back of the vehicle for you, turning with wide eyes as you begin to lead Taro into the vehicle.

“Oh, um, I don’t think-”

“No dog, no sorcerer,” you hiss unintentionally, feeling bad the moment it comes out. You sigh, composing yourself. “Sorry,” you grumble as he nods finally. He seems uneasy, though you suppose someone with as low of a cursed energy output as himself driving someone like you around would do that.

Each moment staring out the window left you longing for it to last longer. Just one extra moment back in your cozy cabin running your business. Anything to keep you away from Jujutsu Tech.

The school was tucked in the trees just on the outer edge of Tokyo, well-hidden by a barrier that seemed to allow your passage. As the car slowed to a halt, Gojo’s presence irked the curse hidden within you and you struggled to keep down the growing feeling of irritation, unsure if it was your own or Miriko’s emotions that were influencing you.

“Look who made it!” Gojo called excitedly, much to Miriko’s dismay. You had her on a short leash, choosing to suppress your cursed energy on the school grounds. You could only hope Gojo was keeping the majority of your secret beyond what was necessary to know about you. You shoot him a grim look before forcing a more agreeable smile to the woman who stood alongside Gojo. She wore a cute blue turtle neck with a long lab coat over it, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders. A toothpick hung from her lips, her tired eyes wrinkled at the corners as she smiled at you.

“Shoko, this is our newest special grade sorcerer, y/n,” he waves his hands in the air towards you. “This is Shoko,” he introduces you to her, “our resident doctor.”

She waves kindly at you. “Satoru mentioned you’ll be joining us for a bit so we set up a private cabin for you,” she tells you, waving somewhere behind her to where the cabin was set up.

As she speaks, Taro hops out of the car behind you, his happy demeanor changing in an instant to a growling one as he bares his teeth to Gojo. He’s a good boy. Still, you tell him to relax and he sits happily beside you.

“And who’s this?” Shoko greets your dog as her tone changes to one more fit to speak to a dog. You chuckle at the site, laughing.

“That’s Taro,” you introduce him. His tail happily swings from side to side as Shoko leans down to scratch behind his ears. Beyond you and Miriko, he wasn’t too familiar with other humans so the interaction was thrilling for him.

“Well isn’t he just the best? Yes you are!” She stands once again, composing herself as she gestures for you to follow with a calm smile. You spare a glance at Gojo as you gather your bags, who grins slyly at you. Choosing to ignore him, you snap your fingers as a signal for Taro to follow as you fall into step with Shoko.

Your eyes wander the length of the school grounds before you, mostly open fields with several massive buildings extending at their length. There was a group of six students sparring towards the end of the field, though the sight of one of them in particular caused you to pause.

“That’s a panda,” you state in bewilderment, hearing Shoko’s amused hum.

“He’s a student,” she tells you as though it’s completely normal, gesturing for you to continue following her.

“What have I gotten myself into?” You whisper quietly to yourself.

“So, where’d you come across Gojo? He mentioned you’re special grade, not many of you around,” Shoko comments casually, quietly eyeing you. 

“I’m pretty sure he kidnapped me last year,” you bite your lip at the thought, “and then he extorted me.” Grimacing, you meet the shocked face of the woman who was leading you in the direction of a small cabin tucked away in the trees.

“Wow.” She gapes, shaking her head. “That’s a new low, even for him.”

“So he’s not always an asshole?”

Shoko laughs with a shake of her head. “No, but he could certainly do with a lesson in manners. He’s always been like that though, you get used to it.” She stops in front of the small cabin, turning towards you. “Wait, so how exactly did he convince you to help us if he’s kidnapped and extorted you?”

Shrugging, you set your bags down now that you were stopped. “The extortion was a part of this arrangement,” you state plainly, though you knew at the end of the day there was at least some bit of irony to this entire situation that Shoko couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Well, Gojo’s a dick, but I promise he does have good intentions,” catching your raised eyebrow, she continues. “Either way, I’ll give him a good smack for ya.”

You sigh with a small chuckle. “Thanks, Shoko.”

She gives you a tour of your small cabin, letting you know where she and everyone else would be situated should you need them. Shoko’s infirmary was in the building just across the field from your cabin, while Gojo’s own cabin was in view of yours. Turning to leave, you hesitantly stop her.

“Hey, what’s special grade?”

Her eyes widen in shock that you aren’t aware, uncertainty flashing momentarily in her eyes as she explains to you the meaning of your assigned grade and how few other sorcerers had such a class.

You thank her quietly as she makes her way out to the infirmary, turning back to your new house. Your new home. Light sifts through the sheer curtains that hang on the window above the kitchen sink, a warm glow illuminating the wooden interior of the small cabin. The cabin had a full kitchen to your right, a dining table placed towards the back of the kitchen area and a small living room with a television and couch to your right. Stairs cascaded up from the corner behind the dining room table to a loft with a queen bed and a small night stand on either side adorned with a lamp. There was even a dog bed in the corner of the room.

In all honesty, it left you a bit shocked. Although tucked away in the trees, there was lots of space for Taro to explore and even for you to grow flowers should you desire to.

On top of that, Shoko seemed nice which you were grateful for, and figured should you need any help you would be able to go to her rather than Gojo, which you were grateful for. The only difference that was beginning to get to you was how lonely it felt in comparison to your home. Despite the amount of people here, Miriko had grown very quiet. It was unnerving, but you weren’t about to push her given how uncomfortable you both were with the situation.

Maybe she would come around later.

–

Holding your hand out, Taro excitedly drops his favorite ball into your hand, his tail wagging wildly. Giving it a toss, you smile as he dashes away after it. The golden rays of the setting sun shone on the Rottweiler’s gorgeous black fur, and you were so caught up with his enjoyment that you didn’t notice someone approaching.

“Do they have a name?”

Jumping in surprise, you stare in shock at the tall blonde man standing at the edge of the steps you were sitting on.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, no longer focused on Taro. Examining the blonde, you notice he’s wearing a light blue button up with slacks, as well as a yellow tie. From the way he’s standing, you can only see one side of him, but the straps across the side of his head tell you he’s got an eye patch as well.

“No worries, I wasn’t paying attention,” you forgive him quickly with a dismissive smile. “That’s Taro.”

The blonde turns his head to face you and you’re able to see his entire left side appears to be covered in scar tissue. Is this what it’s like to be a sorcerer?

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself, watching with mild amusement as your dog barrels excitedly towards him, doing small spins as he drops the ball he’d been chasing at Nanami’s feet.

You introduce yourself in turn and Nanami nods, committing the name to memory as he adjusts his sleeve and throws the ball for Taro.

“I hear you’re-” Nanami begins, though you interrupt him.

“Yeah, I’m special grade.”

“-Quite the flower connoisseur.”

You stare at one another, your mouth agape at how rude you had accidentally been. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed-” you desperately try to backtrack, but Nanami shakes his head.

“I understand,” he shoots you a lopsided smile. “Gojo did also inform everyone of that, to my knowledge.”

“Right,” you mutter wistfully. A breeze ruffles Nanami’s carefully coiffed blonde hair as he carefully observes you. The way his deep brown eyes quietly examined you should have sent a feeling of unease through you, but his presence was oddly calming.

“You should make use of the yard,” he motions to the grassy area Taro was barreling around, vigorously shaking a toy. “It’ll be a nice change of scenery around here.” He tells you before curtly waving and heading on his way. 

He seems nice, you think to yourself, leaving the thought open for Miriko to respond, although she doesn’t. You head back inside to get settled for the night, only managing to throw your hair up into a bun before someone is already at your door.

Your visitor calls your name and you groan in response. No matter how hard you tried, there was no escaping Gojo.

If I ignore him, will he leave? You ask Miriko, hoping that maybe just this once she’ll respond.

Surely, to your surprise she does.

Continuing to clean and unpack, you ignore the sing-song tone Gojo uses as he calls your name and continues to knock.

“C’mon, I know you’re in there,” he calls as he knocks again. Completely suppressing your cursed energy, you begin moving slow and quiet in hopes he’ll get the message. “Cursed energy doesn’t change the fact that you’re in there and you hear me.” With an irritated sigh, you stop suppressing your cursed energy, able to connect to Miriko again.

I will kill him.

You chuckle at the Death curse, sighing as you open your door.

“What do you need?”

“I need you to come with me,” he grins from where he’s leaning against your doorway. He no longer has on his blindfold, his blue eyes peeking at you from over his black shades. You glance at the clock, shaking your head. “No chance, I’m gonna read and go to bed. It’s already eight.”

“How old are you? Exactly, it’s only eight, you’re coming with me.” He beckons you along with him, turning to wait for you on the steps. You grimace, flipping your gaze back towards the cabin to find an excuse, but Gojo catches on too quickly. “Nuh uh, c’mon,” he beckons again. Silently complying, you let out a breath and lock your food behind you, keeping a small distance between you and him.

“How’re ya settling in?” He asks, glancing in your direction.

“Been better.”

Gojo wasn’t a fool. He knew you were being short with him. He was well aware you weren’t his biggest fan, though he had done what he needed to do in order to keep an eye on you and put in place a contingency plan.

“Aw, c’mon!” He grins, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he turns to face you, walking backwards. He catches the way your eyes narrow at him from behind your own glasses, choosing to ignore the look. “I’m doing you a favor if you think about it.”

“I’d love to hear how you think you’re doing me a favor. Really, amuse me,” you spit out, rolling your eyes as Miriko’s anger fuelled your own. It was hard to ignore her emotions when they were practically running through your veins when they were strong.

“Well, for starters you’re surrounded by just about the best there are for bodyguards,” he motions cockily to himself. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You could potentially save some lives,” he muses, “and to top it all off, you have a great cabin and don’t need to hide anymore.”

The audacity that this man had to suggest that you, a vessel that no one knew of, who lived a life in a beautiful cottage of your own creation outside of town, had the option not to hide in the cabin you didn’t want to be in to begin with. You hadn’t realized your feet had planted themselves on the ground as you stared at the white-haired asshole in disbelief.

“You’re kidding, right?” Your words come out far more hurt than you intend. “You took my safety from me over a year ago. You, single-handedly, took my safety, you took my life, and now-” you find yourself choking on your words as anger bubbles in your throat. You step forward, pointing a forefinger straight at Gojo’s chest, though it never connects with him due to a force you can't see. “Now I’m in more danger than I ever have been! I’m surrounded by people who don’t know what I am, who don’t know what I can do, who don’t know why I was hiding to begin with, and it’s all because of you!” You growl, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight tears now that you were full-on yelling at the taller man. And that only makes you angrier, what person wants to cry when they’re yelling? “And you know what, Gojo? To top it all off, the only reason I’m here at all is because you decided if someone had to kill a child, it may as well be me,” your words drip with venom, shoving your finger nearly against his chest. Your body begins to shake but you don't waver, burning red eyes looking for a sign that he felt even a little bit bad.

The sign never came, though. He stood before you, letting you vent your anger at him with little more than a frown. He doesn't respond, just stands before you in silence. The worst part is that you want him to react. You want him to yell back. You want him to feel something about what he had done to you. You want a reason to leave, a reason for him to let you leave. But still, he stands in dead-still silence. His piercing blue irises are hidden by his sunglasses in the darkness that surrounds you both and you can't make out anything about his expression.

Letting your hand hang back at your side, you drop your gaze to stare at your feet. Your chest heaves as you struggle to regain your composure, teeth gritted furiously. Silence surrounds you both, only interrupted by the sounds of summer cicada and the occasional whistle of the breeze. The cool night air is brisk, but a welcome feeling against your warm skin.

Taking one last glance up at Gojo, you watch as he simply turns to leave, heading along in the direction he was leading you.

“I- I’m going back to the cabin,” you stammer, stumbling back in the direction you came, struggling not to cry. You didn’t catch him turn back towards you, hands in his pockets again.

“Look, I don’t care what you do,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “but Shoko sent me to get you. She put together a fire with faculty staff.” Your gaze falls to the ground, though you were listening. Your brow furrows when you realize he almost sounds hurt. “Besides, you should probably meet the people you’re workin’ for.” And with that, he turns away from you and begins walking back to the fire. Holding your head in your hands for a moment as you let out a deep sigh, you wipe the tears from your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself down and very slowly follow Gojo, keeping enough distance that he wouldn’t talk to you. Admittedly, you hadn’t realized it wasn’t him you were working for, so it did make sense to meet everyone while they were all gathered.

You approach a corner towards the back of one of the buildings, light dancing across the ground the closer you get. Fire licks at the night sky, sparks disappearing among the stars above as you pause with a wry smile.

“Y/N!” Shoko calls, waving you over to her. Relief washes over you as she drags a camping chair close to her. You’re glad to find Gojo settling opposite the fire to where Shoko beckons you. Several other voices of different faculty members greet you as you pass by, the only person rising to greet you was a man who appeared older than the rest of you were.

“Yaga Masimichi, nice to meet you,” he bows, pleased as you introduce yourself and bow back. “Thank you for your assistance, I’ve heard good things from Gojo.” You nod, forcing a smile at the mention of Gojo’s name. The man sits back down and allows you to take a seat beside Shoko. Nanami’s to your other side, and as parties weren’t your usual scene, not to mention that you weren’t in the greatest mood, you were grateful for the two somewhat familiar faces.

You were quickly introduced to Choso, Nitta, Ijichi, and Atsuya, although you were familiar with Ijichi from the ride here. You introduce yourself only for your heart to drop as questions are immediately thrown your way from the faculty members you were just meeting.

“I hear you’re special grade,” Nitta comments.

“So I’ve been told,” you sigh, trying to mask your tiredness.

“Special grades don’t pop up outta nowhere,” Yaga comments, eyes narrowing. “‘Specially not at your age. How were you unregistered for so long?”

Heat creeps up your neck to your ears and you shoot Gojo a glance, unsure of what he had told his boss. Your boss. You gingerly move a strand of hair from your face, a strange sensation of being in trouble creeping up on you. The feeling was reminiscent of being back in school, something you certainly didn’t miss.

“She’s from outside the city, not many curses out there,” Gojo explains casually, which you’re thankful for. Given what he’d put you through it was the least he could do.

A waterfall of questions poured from the group at that, your eyes wide as you tried to get to everyone’s questions. Questions about where you were from, your hobbies, how you met Gojo, and your technique (which you did your best to avoid), were thrown at you from left and right. Nanami, Shoko, Choso, and Gojo stayed mostly quiet though Gojo smirked through the interaction. You were just relieved he kept his mouth shut for once.

Sensing your exhaustion at the onslaught of questions, Nanami tilts his head towards you, speaking only to you rather than the broader group. They had finally moved on to a topic apart from yourself and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You don’t need to stay here, you know,” the blonde quietly tells you. You meet his careful gaze in surprise, noticing now that he looks as tired as you feel. He leans back in his chair, looking equally as thrilled to be at the fire as you were.

“I mean,” you worried your lip between your teeth, “I should probably stay,” you reason. “After all, Shoko set this up as a welcome.”

Nanami’s brow furrows as he curiously tilts his head. “Satoru organized this for you.”

You stare blankly at Nanami, sparing a glance at Shoko who was deep in conversation with Choso. Gripping the arms of your chair, you shoot a nod at Nanami, getting to your feet and thanking everyone for the warm welcome before excusing yourself. Your gaze briefly lands on Gojo from behind your tinted glasses. Although you weren’t able to see his full expression from behind his black glasses, you noticed his smirk falter when he found your stare.

You turn back to Nanami, who was standing as well and he nods as a signal for you to lead the way.

“You don’t want to stay back?” You question curiously.

He shakes his head. “No, I have work tomorrow,” he explains. “And while I do often work out of Jujutsu Tech I’m not a part of the faculty staff.” You nod slowly, uncertain of how the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers works. “I don’t usually stick around past five,” he tells you, his eye fixed straight ahead.

“Sorry you’re here so late,” you apologize, though he shoots you a small smile.

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. A comfortable silence falls over you both as he walks you to your cabin in the dim moonlight. You tilt your head to get a better look at him, noticing that not unlike Shoko, he had a rather gaunt look to him as though he hadn’t slept in a long time. Even so, he carried himself in a much different way than Shoko did. He had a much more somber and serious attitude than it had seemed the rest of the faculty did.

“How long do you plan on staying?” He interrupts your thoughts, catching your stare. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’d been caught.

“However long Gojo needs me, I guess,” you sigh quietly.

Eyebrow raised, Nanami turns his head to face you fully. “You aren’t here by choice?”

“You could say that,” you laugh dryly. The cool breeze blows through your hair as your cabin comes into view. “Gojo didn’t leave me with much of a choice.”

“I see. I suppose that was you arguing with Gojo earlier, then?”

You freeze, nearly tripping over your feet. “You heard that?”

Nanami stops, facing you as he quietly examines your features. “We couldn’t hear what you were saying, but we did hear the argument,” he explains. His vision follows you as you take off your sunglasses for a moment to rub your eyes before replacing them on the bridge of your nose. They didn’t make it easier to see the man in front of you in the dim moonlight but you certainly didn’t need to raise any suspicions regarding your eyes that weren’t unlike Gojo’s. Interrupting your thoughts, Nanami’s voice brought your attention back to the sorcerer in front of you. “May I ask you a question?”

You nod cautiously, almost certain he would question you about your technique.

“I recognize that it wasn’t your first choice to help Gojo and I can’t blame you for that,” he hums as he earns a wry smile from you. “However, do you plan on helping Itadori?”

“Itadori? Sukuna’s vessel?” Nanami nods. “Oh, um, I do.” You shuffle uncomfortably. “I don’t mean any harm.

“I didn’t assume you did,” Nanami turns back to continue leading the way to your cabin. He adjusts the tie around his neck to hang more loosely as he clears his throat. “Itadori could use a more reasonable mentor than Gojo. He’s brash and needs to learn when it’s best for him to stay back. He could use someone like you,” Nanami’s gaze softens and you catch a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “He’s a good kid.”

You smile softly in return. “I’ll do my best.”

Nanami hums, clearly satisfied with your response.

You come to a halt at your door, turning to face the kind sorcerer. “Thanks for walking me back.”

Nanami had stopped at the edge of your porch, nodding. “Here,” he holds his hand out, “let me leave you my number. Send for me if Gojo gives you too much trouble,” he offers. Heat rises to your cheeks, dusting your ears a rosy red that you could only hope he didn’t see in the moonlight.

“Oh, sure,” you agree as you hand him your phone. He has it for only a second before handing it back. “Thanks again,” you smile, turning to part ways.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || Thank you for all the love on the first chapter!! I've written and even finished more fics than I'd like to admit but just never seem to have the courage to post them so I appreciate all the love ♡

[cherriesformatt]

Hi could I request Matt x reader

They are in their senior year of Highschool and it’s prom season.The reader is sad because she never had any romance in her life and dreams of a promposal.Matt really likes the reader and even though he doesn’t like bring attention to him he surprises the reader.

promposal || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff!

word count: 1,1k

a/n: I hope you like it and I did not ruin the idea!

I came home and tossed my bag and car keys on the cubby.

"Hi! I'm home!" I yelled to check if anyone was back from work or in case of my brother from school.

Only echo answered me and I sight of relief because the last thing I wanted was to small talk with everyone how my day was.

I went to my room, stripped from my clothes and wrapped my body in white, fluffy robe. I took change of clothes, my phone and dragged my feet to my parents master bathroom. They had huge bath tube and my mom had all those fancy stuff from TikTok to make a relaxing bath.

I made myself one with lots of bubbles and got in. I didn’t put any bath bomb or candles because it would give me a headache. The only thing I did was putting music on from my phone on the speaker in the bathroom.

I hated today. And all of this week to be honest.

It was this time of the year again. Senior year to be specific. Thats why I hated it even more because it's the last time ever for that.

For prom.

Everyone including my best friends were proposed to go to prom by their boyfriends. In every cute way possible. I was only there to fake smile and be happy for them but also a little jealous. Because here is the thing.

I was always so focused on school and soccer that I never, ever let any boy near me. It is a miracle that my best friends are still my friends. I was single through all high school, never went on any date and when I rejected some boys no-one asked me again. Which brings us here, I also was never asked to go for a prom. This time it was a little sad because it is going to be my last prom.

"I hate myself" I said and made my body to go under hot water while Frank Ocean was playing in the room.

I stayed like that for a second but I heard my music stopped for a massage notification so I sat back up and took my phone from the ground next to the bath tube splashing some water on the floor.

I checked the massage and I was a little surprised. It was from Matt Sturniolo. I knew him because his brother Chris was dating my best friend Maggie. He sometimes drives us to parties or games. He and his triplet brothers played hockey and lacrosse in our school. They were pretty good. Nick also did our yearbook this year. Matt and I never really had any class together and beside knowing him as Chris's brother I didn't really spend time with him. He didn’t usually stay at parties after games and even if he did he spent time with his team mates I did with mine.

I smiled a little. Was he kind of asking me out? What should I do?

Wasn't I just complaining that nobody asked me out?

And I said yes.

What am I even going to wear? It’s march and it’s going to be cold on the beach.

I spend and hour in the bath and than I ate early dinner and started to get ready.

I did blow out on my hair and put a light make up on. I didn’t want to look like I care too much. I put some jeans on and a hoodie with white Air Force 1. They had blue flowers custom painted for me on them by one of my friends.

When I got a text massage from Matt that he is waiting outside a little before 7 I told my parents I’m leaving and took my purse and locked the door behind me.

He was leaning on his car and smiled when he saw me. He looked nice. We kinda matched the outfits. He also was wearing a hoodie and jeans and white air forces.

“Hi… it’s nice to see you not on the field next to mine” he said.

That’s true. We usually just had practice or a game next to each other.

“Same to you… you stole my outfit tho” I laughed as he opened car doors for me.

“I can live with matching your outfit” He smiled looking at me and he closed the doors and went to the driver seat.

We drove to the beach talking about everything and nothing. Mostly about sports and music and the midterms.

“We’re here let’s go?” He smiled when we parked.

I got out of the car and he came to me.

“Okay I know it will sound weird but can you close your eyes? And not peek?” Ha asked me.

He was nervous?

“Okay…. But if you want to kill me my dad is going to find you and probably kill your brother for accident” I said closing my eyes and sticking my hand out for him.

He giggled at what I said and toon my hand to lead me.

Sun was setting already so it is going to be dark soon. I’m not sure what we are doing here.

I heard some sounds as we were walking on the sand but mostly it was sound of the ocean.

“Okay I’m going to let go of your hand… don’t open your eyes just yet” he said.

He dropped my hand and I stand waiting for him to tell me to open my eyes. I heard some voices too.

What the hell is happening.

“Okay… you can open your eyes now” Matt said from somewhere in front of me.

I opened my eyes and they automatically widened.

There was some lanterns going up into the sky. Like I my favorite movie.

Tangled.

I looked at them and then down to see where they are coming from. Whole lacrosse and hockey team were putting them up.

There he was standing in the middle with a poster that said:

Light up my night at prom?

And there was a painting of the tower from the movie. It was beautiful. I bet Maggie did it.

Nobody ever did anything like that for me.

“Matt what the hell?” I said coming up to him I’m pretty sure I had tears in my eyes now.

“Sooo?” He looked at me unsure of my reaction.

“Of course..” I said looking at him and wiped my cheeks with my hoodies sleeve.

Whole teams started cheering and I laughed.

“How did you even know? That I like the movie…” I asked.

“Well I talked to Chris and Chris talked to Maggie and you know…” he scratched back of his neck.

“Gosh I feel like I could kiss you right now…” I whispered.

He smiled and put one of his hands on my cheek and the other one wondered on my back to pull me closer to him. He looked deep in my eyes looking for reassurance but I just connected our lips together.

It couldn’t get any better. The best promposal I could ask for.

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Simple Pleasures

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Monoxide Poisoning...

...

Lately, you've found yourself visiting Haibara's dorm room. For no specific reason, to be honest. Although, you did like to view it as taking a small vacation from your boy's chaotic nature.

Unlike Suguru's room, which is primarily dark like yours and decorated with the little trinkets the trio has gathered throughout the months --- Haibara's is full of life. Like literally, he has a lot of plants. He's a plant daddy

The topic of Gojo's room will be visited later on

And with so many plants, it's bound to be pretty humid. But you make no comment on it as you happily watch him spray water on his greens, chatting your ear off in a way that doesn't annoy you (unlike Gojo)

Haibara likes to invite you on his trips to the gardening stores, he'll also invite Kento, whenever the blonde has time. In his eyes, it's like a little plant shopping date.

He even has outfits for these sorts of occasions --- you know, Haibara is going out to buy more plants when you see him wearing a light brown leather jacket that Gojo gifted to him a while back. For no reason really, surprisingly.

When shopping, Kento is obviously the person in charge of driving the cart while you and Haibara are running around looking at all the plants around the shop. Well, it's more of you bringing random plants to Haibara for approval of their existence whilst he gets the ones from his list.

Sometimes, you'll bring small succulents to Kento, hoping that he'll find them as pretty as you did.

(Side Note: Kento doesn't like you going too far, he always likes to have you in his field of vision since you're still new to Japan so he doesn't want you getting lost.)

All it takes is one nod of acknowledgement from the man to satisfy you and then, you're running off to put the plant back into place.

Kento likes to admire the long necked plants, the ones that usually have to be hung pots; however, if he had to pick a plant to keep in his home, it would be a larkspur. Its vibrant color is bound to distract from his boring walls. Either way, he'd rather not have one with how busy curses have him.

I don't know a thing about plants so don't quote me on anything

You wanted to buy Suguru this flower you heard about in passing, but when you asked Haibara about it, you learned that it was a tree rather than a pretty little thing.

So you bought him a combination of pink and blue hydrangeas, and a little booklet on how to care for them

You specifically decided to buy Gojo a succulent considering that you didn't really know if he'd take as great care of it as Suguru did. And, to be honest, you made a good call considering that the plant died not long after you gifted it. Which is a literal miracle considering it doesn't even need much. Surprisingly enough, when you had given Gojo the succulent, on a whim, you also bought him a white carnation. Contrary to its counterparts fate, Gojo took amazing care of it.

You've yet to see it wilt from where it stands on Gojo's desk in his dorm room--- ah, now's a great time to talk about his room

As we've come to know, Gojo is the Head of his Clan. I don't think much is known about his family other than his abilities, the Six-Eyes and Limitless, can be found throughout the bloodline. So for the sake of my canon, Gojo Satoru is the only Gojo that remains alive. The other's having long passed.

As such, Gojo has obvious access to all assets as well as estates that rightfully belong to his bloodline. So I ask, why would he have a dorm room when he has a full-on mansion not far from the school? (the distance is also manipulated for my canon)

Yes, being able to live on campus would be much easier than being chauffeured around yet, one cannot deny the benefits of a bigger room. One bigger than your own, which you had to bribe Yaga for.

But then again, the Gojo Estate feels so...empty. Barren of life and excitement. Of course, servants lurk around the long corridors, performing daily chores and anticipating their Master's every whim, but that's all they are. They're servants, who are loyal to his name, to his family line, to his power. They don't really care about him. Not really. Most either worship his god-hood, or they fear him enough to worship him.

That's why he stays near you and Suguru. You're both strikingly different from his other reality. Neither if you could give less of a fuck to the alter he stands upon in the Jujutsu world. You don't offer him blindness adoration, you offer him insults and cursed words. On the other hand, Suguru offers an actual challenge. He treats the young Gojo like an equal instead of a superior, and he adores loves that about the raven-haired.

(Side Note: Gojo and Suguru bicker a lot. Mainly because they both have like a quiet version of machismo where they both want to be the dominant of the field. So it's usually up to you to break them up, or distract them since Ieiri would never dare get herself in between them. To be honest, the pair already know what you're up to when you try to distract them, but they keep their mouths shut because they know how their bickering tends to stress you out for some reason. One time, Suguru heard you briefly mention something about "waiting for the shoe to drop," maybe that's the reason?)

(Add-on: When it's not Suguru and Gojo arguing, it's you and Gojo. Even then it's mainly the white fiend annoying you to the point you're reaching to grab his hair. Suguru is the one who has to separate you. Usually, he'll distract you by playing with your earring, the moon that hangs on the top curve. The simple action is enough to capture your attention as you quickly settle down to his light touch, hanging on your bottom lips as you glare at the surprisingly pensive Gojo, who watches the whole interaction wordlessly. No one knows what he thinks about, just that he'll suddenly quiet down and observe. (Except me, I know hehe) )

Anyways, on certain odd occasions, Gojo does need to head back to his estate to handle official business. What business may that be? It's undisclosed. Mainly cause of how boring it is, Gojo would reason.

So, when he is over there, in that life-sucking horrid place, he'll resort to subconsciously using the coping mechanism he's developed over the months.

He likes to play around with the sun charm that hangs from his wrist, just besides --- oh? It can't be...is that the bracelet you lost back in August? The one he found lost under his pillow from the time you used his dorm room to hide from his 'hunting'? Well I'll be damned. He had the clasp fixed and everything

(Side Note: Gojo has a single empty frame that sits beside his bed within the master bedroom of his estate. Supposedly, he's waiting for the right image to occupy it with. He discarded every other picture into a storage room --- they're all of him as a child. When he sees them, he doesn't think much of them. But they just...feel wrong. )

But the moment, he comes back, it's time to go out. It's a routine by this point. Gojo will text the group chat that he's coming back home, and everyone (Kento, Haibara, You, Usguru, and Ieiri. Ijichi avoids Gojo like the plague) is already standing outside the gates of the school, ready for a night out. And, as always, your little trio is in matching outfits.

In a separate group chat, where it's just you three --- one of them will send a picture of the outfit they plan to wear, so the other two will find something to either compliment it or match exactly. (You'll say it's subconscious but like, there's a system to it. On Mondays, Gojo sends the pic. Tuesday, Suguru. Wednesday, you. So on, so forth.)

Dotonbori is the day's destination.

(Side Note: Gojo gives you his sunglasses so that you don:t get a raging headache from the bright lights of the neon signs.)

You and Gojo have this weird thing where the two hang at the back of the group. He'll be walking right beside you. In fact, he forces you to wrap your arm around his elbow while he stuffs his hands into his pant's pockets. To be honest, you don't mind at all considering how warm he is and how cold it's becoming in Japan.

(Side Note: Since you and Gojos hang at the back of the group, Haibara makes sure to include the pair of you in the group's conversations. Ieiri often asks Haibara if his neck hurts from the amount of time he's looking back at you and Gojo. He just doesn't want you two to be left behind.)

In the beginning, Suguru handles the interactions with the clerks, but eventually, his social battery runs out. When this happens, he'll come over to you (you still wrapped around Gojo) and he'll do one of two things --- hold Gojo's hand, or wrap an arm around your shoulders to caress the back of your head. Something you noticed helps bring him back to Earth.

Surprisingly, your little trio, despite being the loudest back at school, mellows out whenever they're out and about the streets of Japan. To the point, where it's Haibara and Kento who are ordering for the trio. (Kento actually just orders for you, Haibara, and Ieiri. Yet, since the only people you share are with Suguru and Gojo, the two eat from your own meal.)

(Side Note: You'd never guess it, but Gojo does get tired of talking. Funnily enough, Kento knows the trio is tired of socializing when you have your face buried into the side of Gojo's shoulder, Suguru's face laid on your as well. Also, you three look hella exhausted by then.)

(Add-on: Kento is truly at peace when the three are tired af.)

Kento ordered you some ten yen cheese coins from a small shop when he noticed you eyeing the various customers consuming said cheese coins --- every time the cheese stretched, Gojo would gather the stretched out part on his lanky fingers and eat it. On the other hand, you'd let Suguru get a bite.

You almost choked on a ball of mozarella cheese, forcing Suguru to hit you really hard on the back while Gojo laughed

Haibara really likes the pork steam buns from one of the shops (551 Horai) so you'll order him like three of the big ones, claiming that he's too bony for his health (you fret over his health a lot weirdly enough)

Ieiri made an effort to not smoke today, so she decided to stuff her mouth with takoyaki from the shop Kukuru, which she actually offered to Kento after catching him admiring the glazed meal. Kento tried to reject but she stuffed the octopus-filled ball into his mouth. The angry look on his face was so worth it.

Your group has a natural separation at some point, where Haibara, Kento, and Ieiri go to a spot together. Leaving your little trio behind to their own devices. (Your rendezvous point is under the giant crab, iykyk)

Ah, I just had a funny thought --- when Gojo saw something he liked, he'd pull you along, and, by extension, Suguru. That's actually how Gojo got you into sharing a sweet potato brulee dessert with him. (With Suguru feasting on some dango he found covered in sweet soy sauce.)

Ah, another thought. So, you know how Hijo has plenty of girls that fangirl behind his every step? Well, on the occasions Gojos is hanging out with Suguru alone, he's oftentimes, bombarded with them offering treats, gifts, and whatever those girls come up with.

One of those gifts, in particular, comes in the form of a bento box. And, let me tell you, it's a shit-ton. Now, Gojo never eats from the meals his fans pour their souls into --- he just doesn't see the bed when he's constantly stealing from your food.

So most of the bento boxes would end up in the trash. That is, until one day, when you were present for the exchange, that you asked the clan head if you could try it.

All you said, ALL YOU FUCKING SAID WAS THAT IT TASTED GOOD

Next thing you know, every bento box is heading your way.

They're all very cute, and obvious care has been put into them --- BUT SHIT THERE'S SO MANY

Each one you can't eat, you give to Suguru, who then gives it to Haibara, who then gives it to Ieiri despite her constantly whining that they have cooties.

Eventually, though, there's a shift. No-one knows where it came from or why it happened, it just did. All of a sudden, Gojo was the one making the bento boxes.

A big shocker considering none of you have ever, once, seen him cook

He'd wake up early in the morning to make you and Suguru bento boxes as he hummed a tune under this breath while wearing a frilly pink apron he found stashed in the storage cabinets (it belonged to Yaga's graduating class)

As soon as you and Suguru wake up, either one with a list of missions to do for the day, Gojo would shove their respective bento boxes into their faces, a smug smile on his cheeks as he went to clean up the mess he left behind.

Gojo really likes to have fun with his bento-making skills so the meals he makes usually have lots of faces. Sometimes, for your rice, he'll use the seaweed to make the face of a penguin. While for Suguru, he'll carve faces into the little octopus shaped mini hot dogs.

Unfortunately for your pride, but fortunately for your stomachs --- Gojo is a really good cook. Mainly because, just like always, he doesn't have to try hard to be good at something the first time. He's just stupid that way.

Ieiri has whined about wanting to have a Gojo made bento-box, yet, for whatever odd reason, he never makes her one. It's like an exclusive you and Suguru privilege no-one else could ever hope to hold.

Suguru was the one to buy the trio's chopsticks. Gojo's are black at the end with panda designs printed on them. Suguru has white bunnies carved at the ends of his own chopsticks, and yours, as some sick joke, are attached to a cute bear training tool. The ones you'd buy to teach your child how to use chopsticks.

The glare you gave him that day was icy, to say the very least

Bastard had the audacity to smile with his eyes closed, fully knowing that once he opened them, you'd poke his eye out

You almost did too, had it not been for Gojo shoving an octopus sausage into your mouth.

...

(A/N): Ngl, I forgot Gojo is a canon womanizer so like let's see how I work with that in future chapters. Also, this chapter warmed my heart just a tiny bit. Don't know why tbh.

Very Gojo orientated huh

Also, what are some things you guys can't wait to see in the upcoming episodes?

Song Inspo: everything i wanted - Billie Eilish and Melting - Kali Uchis

The reason why you have yet to have your own sunglasses is simple. In the beginning, the pain was manageable. Also, you procrastinated a lot. Then came Gojo, so why even bother? Plus, you liked to wear Gojo's. They're just...built better, yeah that's why.

For a few months, Gojo kept your bracelet hidden. Not once did he bring it up. But one day, the thoughts were just too loud. Upon seeing it in his desk's drawer, he found himself toying with it to calm down. It's a simple thing really --- a thick black rope twisted into an infinity knot right in the middle. The next day, he went to a jeweler to get it fixed. Ever since that day, he's worn it without your permission. As if he needed it. (Lmao)

Whenever Gojo looks at kid-pictures of himself, he feels wrong. That's because every image of himself looks almost doll-like. So intricately planned out to the last minute detail, nothing feels natural about it. Even the smiles are staged.

All the photos Gojo truly cares about are either on his social media page, or in his gallery. His most fond ones remain in a private folder, never to be posted. Every now and then, he'll go back to them.

The reason why Gojo started making you and Suguru bento boxes was because you inadvertently mentioned how you missed the taste of home. And since Gojo considers you and Suguru as his home, he figured you might as well, too, consider them home. So, he dug around the cabinets, found himself an apron, and got to cooking.

Gojo hangs at the back of the group in case something goes wrong, he can instantly protect the group. Just like him, you hang at the back to watch the souls that are near the group. One simple quirk of the brow from you, and Gojo is in action.

Originally:

This chapter was supposed to start in Dotonbori; however, I saw a tiktok edit of Haibara and wanted to explore his character a bit more since Gege refused us that.

The flower Kento preferred for his home was the orchid. This is only because that's the only flower I truly know.

Suguru was supposed to hold your hand, but he remembered you like to have your hands free to use. So he opted to gently hold the back of your neck instead. He knew you didn't mind due to how you leaned into his touch.

Suguru was the one meant to be making the bento boxes as a way to teach you more about Japanese culture; however, I got tired of portraying Suguru as this caretaker person. And then I remembered that Gege said that Gojo doesn't have to try to be good at something, and then I remembered that Gojo usually dropped his comedic self around Suguru because Gojo felt comfortable around him. So he'd mellow out a bit. I figured that Gojo's love languages include: Physical Touch, Gift-Giving, and a hint of Acts of Services.

Suguru's is still Acts of Services with Words of Affirmation.

Yours is Gift-Giving, Acts of Services, and Quality Time.

The Larkspur flower is actually one of the two flowers of July, the month Kento was born in. However, its meaning also refers to Haibara and the positivity he brings with him.

The flower that you wanted to buy Suguru but couldn't upon finding out its actually a flowering tree called a Plum Blossom. When it snows, the petals can still be seen under the white blanket. Allowing it to represent strength in times of great hardship. However, you then chose to give him a combination of blue and pink hydrangeas. Blue means understanding, gratitude, and apology. Pink means sincere emotions and romance.

A white carnation often conveys the message of pure love and a prosperous life; however, it can also express great remorse for wrongdoing.

What do you mean by "waiting for the other shoe to drop"? Can you see something others can't?

Ah, the fight for dominance...

Guilt seems to be a running theme here, wonder why...

What does Gojo think when he sees you interact with Suguru?

Drop a comment!

Feel free to buy me a 🦩

Hope you enjoyed!

[faededaway]

[Fem Siren x gen! Human] sfw

What if, a Siren moved to the woods because she wanted to carve wood like the humans who carved their ships?

The reader/ human is a hard of hearing person who moves to woods after getting their hearing aid. After being hard of hearing since birth, they hated hearing the noises of the city. And they couldn't explain to any person in their life why they now "chose" not to hear.

The human moves to small cabin near the edge of the forest where the siren's favorite fruit tree grows.

She regularly tries to lure them away with her song but to this human her song sounds like a soothing tune, one that calms their jittery limbs barely able to unbox their belongings.

So the Siren ends up doing her needly during the night when the reader sleeps.

This goes on for a while until this human grows interested in the fruit trees and tries to take care of them. They're trying to feed their compost to the trees when the siren runs in and stops them.

That's the first time they meet. The siren hisses at them and dumps the compost in a makeshift burrow away from the fruit tree's roots.

The siren points at the tree and then at herself, thinking this human does not speak the language she's been yelling at them minute ago.

Something like an understanding passes through their eyes and the human nods in agreement. The tree is hers.

The human avoids the tree from then onwards. But they do, keep an eye on their window to watch the Siren pluck two fruits and a flower every morning. They never make an attempt to take to each other. Both of them are lone souls. But this human appreciates knowing there is another person in these woods with them, enjoying life here.

The siren slowly pieces some clues together and learns why her calls never work on this human. No wolf howl or bird brawl fazes them, but they sense a quiet hunt faster than she who has been living in this forest for 30 years. Explains why some sailors never turned.

The human is naive in some places. They sometimes pick the wrong mushrooms and the siren has to run over to them and think of a way to communicate what she means. They see the siren thinking out loud and get the gist. Thank you!

That's when the siren learns she does know this human's language. She just needs to speak while they look at her.

The human introduces themselves first. Their palm laid flat on their chest, and an utterance of a word that held no meaning in foraging or else. My name.

The siren sighs and looks back to where her favourite fruit grows, what it's called in human words is something she doesn't know. She hasn't been called by name in nearly 30 years. She chooses the word she once heard someone call her tree. Amirakel... Amira..kel... Miracle? A miracle... Mira. Name's Mira. A sturdy finger pointed at her heart and two whispered syllables.

The human smiles and nods. Pretty

The smile reaches their eye and shows their canine. It's smaller than their other teeth. Mira has to look away from such a ridiculously human flaw. Such a ridiculously cute flaw. She's reminded of the first time she saw the sunlight, felt the breeze, swam in the water, and all other warm things. She laughs a little at the ridiculousness. She's nearing an age where she forgot to keep count, an age where she stopped calling to seduce her victims. And now, this human with a cute tooth makes her feel all warm.

Her smile reaches her eye but she keeps her her teeth hidden.

Mira visits her human every morning now. A fruit from the tree is presented to them. Then, they forage together. She doesn't want the human's poisoned body to fertilize her breakfast any time soon. Humans don't fertilize well. She tells herself.

Her human thinks Mira is the nicest person they've ever met. Never once has she asked for anything. She only seems to give. Mira's unique features are striking.

For the longest time they thought she was an animal they never knew of. But the more they saw her, the more they recognized her humanoid features. Her arms, her hair, and her humanoid face. Her hair was long enough to cover her back. She always wore it to cover her chest, her human guessed it was for their sake. Her lower half, they were too polite to look at. From afar, it looked like she wore a dress with a small trail. Her light footsteps told them it was probably how she moved.

She often came into her human's cabin to watch them cook what they foraged. Sometimes she taught them new ways to prepare some greens or told them what they could eat raw. And sometimes she ate with them.

But when the trees change color and Mira's tree no longer bears fruit, Mira stops visiting her human. How long can I play a fool? They will leave soon.

Her human thinks even Mira has her limits. She only gives and receives nothing in return. Upon thinking this, they venture out into the woods to try to find some Blue Milkcap mushrooms that Mira seems to enjoy a lot.

Their venture leads them to a side of the woods they have yet to see. There's a stream of water and a suspicious clearing near them. Woods are felled and stumps sit in some places. Still, the sought after mushroom is nowhere in sight.

The woods feel lonelier without Mira hovering nearby. Only a week since she visited, yet her absence is felt so deeply. Her human doesn't know where she stays. Yet, they hope they will find her somehow.

The human follows the line of felled trees and in some places, trials of wood shavings. To them, it appears like someone was carving something great right in here before changing their mind and running.

The trial leads them to a cave. One they would've missed for it's narrow opening that barely looks passable. They consider looking in when a something in the air makes a shiver crawl up their spine.

They look around to find themselves face to face with a wolf, staring with hunger in it's eyes. Mira's human finds themselves at a loss for what to do. They know they need to intimidate the predator. They need to be loud and aggressive. But knowing and doing were two different things. They fall to their knees and shield their face. From their narrow vision they see the wolf take a leap at them.

But it misses. Mira's human is safe. The wolf misses their arm and instead.... They've bitten Mira's arm. The wolf whines when it realizes it missed it's target and trots away when it notices it but into something it shouldn't have.

Mira's Human scrambles to get a look at the damage done to her arm. Tears brim their eyes and broken words escape their lips. You're always giving me things. Always, always, always, and now you got bit!

Mira laughs again. She didn't know her old body could move fast enough to stop a wolf's bite. She didn't know her heart could care or want another being's safety as much as it desires her human's safety. She laughs and cups her human's face. They wear a part of their clothing and wrap it around her bleeding arm. The liquid is nothing like anything her human has ever seen before so Mira has to shush their crying and move their gaze to hers. She does not know the gestures to explain this yet. I will heal before sunset. Wolves have bitten me before. They think I taste bad.

They both laugh at Mira's last comment. Her human hugs her waist and buries their face in her chest. Mira sighs and accepts her fate. Maybe this will help her escape her creative rut. The sailors always sang better when they were in love. Maybe this will help her too.

[juno-of-wonderland]

Hello. I got an idea after listening to these songs - requiem ver chogakusei Alien Stage - sweet dreams. Namely, that Yu has the magic of music (more precisely, magic manifests itself when Yu sings or plays musical instruments, sometimes when he dances). And I would like the guys to catch Yu during one of these actions (dormitory wardens + Jamil). Just imagine how Yu sings requiem and magic begins to appear in the form of flames/shining stars/flowers, etc.)

you brought me some memories and I love ideas involving music, most of my entries are made with a POV playlist and I swear I tried to do it in dorm order, but I was blocked so I wrote who already had one (yes, I I do everything disorganized and then together) and as my limit is 7 characters, I believe you asked to change Kalim for Jamil, if not, just let me know and I'll do his THANKS FOR THE REQUEST

Azul Ashengrotto

-Azul was ending the day and going to his room -but the kitchen lights were on, which made him frown, don't people know how much energy can cost? -as he was approaching, he heard a small voice singing "I travel the world and the seven seas Everybody's looking for something" -he sneaked in to see you and his eyes widened -there you are, washing the dishes, a normal thing, if it weren't for the small bubbles forming around you and the water apparently wanting to come out of the sink -he was certainly stunned for too long for you to stop your work and look at him -you stare at each other in silence -he clears his throat and says he appreciates you staying until everything is finished, but it's already late and he's going to walk you to the mirror -if you act as if nothing had happened or don't know that anything happened, he will understand that tiredness is causing some kind of jock -if you seem nervous, then he knows that what he saw was your secret… that he can use later

Malleus Draconia

-this man loves the night, we all know, but you didn't expect him to show up today -you start singing outside the ramshackle and doing a very small and centered dance -it's not really a dance, it's just a swing -small flowers bloom next to your feet as you says "Sweet dreams are made of this Who am I to disagree" for the second time -and the dragon is watching everything -he is surprised but delighted by your performance, he finds it adorable -he only talks to you when you finish -Malleus asks about your magic with interest, but if you don't want to talk about it, he won't insist, even if it upsets him -please sing him another song

Idia Shroud

-a miracle happened and this man was outside his room -he wanted to play a new game with you -Idia just didn't expect to catch you singing alone in a completely personal and shameful moment -he planned to sneak out, he was really going to do it! but your voice is so jahavsbgsjsbsfgssnj he sounds like an otome boy, stop doing this to him! -you start another song "one vague, misjudged view like a faint flower gone insane " -and that's when he realizes, small spark of fire dancing on top of his head -he leans over from where he was hiding, to get a better look… and ends up tripping and falling -Please don't do anything to him! he didn't want to peep! -if he has the courage to mention what happened while you were singing and you look confused, he will get excited like "I think you unlocked a power because you were brought here like in an isekai… in fact you are already in one isekai" -if you are aware of this ability, it will be your little secret, he will keep this information and fulfill the promise

Vil Schoenheit

-Vil was going to her dorm, to take you on a comparison trip -This man's ears are trained and he doesn't even need to open the door to see that you are singing -he ponders whether he should go or not, he chose to stay and open the door slowly and you sing "if i became a butterfly, so free"

-and look at his surprise when he saw you beaming like a crystal while (trying to) clean -several occasional sparkles and butterfly's swirling around you -you get scared when you see him -"your performance…" Vil begins "it wasn't bad, but I'm disappointed that you hid your magic potato" he's serious -after all, his magic suits you, he wants to know why you don't tell anyone, but he won't be invasive, he will be… subtle

Jamil Viper

-I couldn't think of an excuse for this guy to find you, so let's get to the basics -he was passing in the hallway when he heard his voice coming from an empty room -he pulled up next to the door and heard you sing "Lord, Please when the song is over, save me please My Father, My Universe Take away the small and weak me" -and when he looks at you and literally sees stars dancing with you -this man is bewildered, I think tiredness has finally caught up with him -but he remains silent, without interrupting you, you seem so carefree now, he doesn't want to take away that feeling -At some point he will leave, you won't even notice it -he needs to see this again and make sure it wasn't something in his head

Leona Kingsholar

-Now I Live in Darkness Bring me brightness Show me proof you hear my sound Live in darkness Bring me brightness Show me proof you're here now -His ears twitched at that, why does someone always have to show up at the botanical garden and disturb his sleep? -Leona intended to go back to sleep when he recognized your voice -he decided to sit down and look at the free and private show he was getting -…why are there rose petals surrounding like a hurricane and why are flowers blooming on the bushes? -he remained quiet, his mind loading until you noticed him -this guy has a mischievous smile on his face -"it seems that the herbivore hides several little things, doesn't it?"

Riddle Roseheart

-you had offered to help paint the roses -you were bored and started singing "Sweet Dream, it's today, wait for me I'll go see you soon, woo~woo~woo" along with small movements -a crown of flowers began to form on his head and roses as red as blood surrounded the garden -like when you hear a familiar voice behind you, you even spill paint on yourself -"since…since when can you do this?" -Don't try to pretend you didn't notice -he is willing to listen and help you control this magic better -he thinks what you do is really beautiful…just don't say it out loud

I hope I got the songs you said right

[mushiimune]

blush first kiss or like how do they get together ….. bless u

RAHHH

Blink doesn't know he's in love until it's spelled out for him.

After spending all of the life that he chose to remember with Mush, there was room for little else except the way things had always been. They did everything together. Lived and breathed in the same space. Shared two halves of the same sandwich, sometimes the same bed. Nothing was ever wrong with it. Blink didn't see a need to change anything, until Mush started talking about girls.

Blink talked about girls all the time. Arguably, too often. Mush told him to hush up more times than Blink could count, because he mentioned Mary, or Betty, or Golda, and Mush would rather talk about Bunny, the stray cat from down the block who kept the streets clear of mice for the common newsboy.

Mush mentions one girl—one!—calls her nice, shows Blink the flower she gifted him, free of charge, for showing interest in her stand at the park.

"It's a rose," Mush informed grandly, tucking it into Blink's front pocket. Mush's cheeks dimpled with a grin. "I never had a rose before. It matches your hair, Kid."

Blink's heart swelled. It didn't match his hair at all. Mush was a beautiful liar, and really believed every word he said, even if it wasn't true. That was one of many good things about Mush. If he said the sky was purple instead of blue, his voice would be thick with such cheer and sincerity that Blink would have no choice but to believe him, and sock anybody who disagreed upside the head.

Blink watched Mush more closely. Mush didn't seem bothered by his personal space being invaded more than usual, but others did. They teased and poked Blink in the side, which did ltitle to dissuade him, or quiet the strangeness in his chest. Fluttering like a bird.

"I love you," Blink said more often. And Mush would reply: "me, too."

There. Good. No shame in the lodging house for loving your friends. Any day may be the last you see of them. The bulls didn't need a reason to scoop boys up off the streets like stray dogs, and put them away for the crime of being small.

Blink worried. More and more. A scrape was the end of the world, and if it wouldn't break every bone in his body, he'd take revenge on the concrete for scuffing Mush's knees.

Winter came. The flowers died. And almost, too, did Mush.

Blink couldn't decsribe what had come over him during those two weeks if his life depended on it. He didn't want to remember. Like every bad thing that ever happened to him, he pushed it out of his head. Half the eyes, half the problems. None of my business.

Mush's wellbeing was his business. He was so sick he saw ghosts, and didn't know who Blink was, besides safe. Blink didn't care if he got sick, too. He didn't care if that bed was the last place he'd ever be. With Mush was where he would stay.

It was a miracle, said Kloppman, that Mush recovered. Shaky and pale for a bit, quiet and feverish, but alive. Blink carried his papers for him, and kissed his forehead to make him feel better.

Blink's mouth got closer to Mush's. Even after Mush was recovered, the kisses didn't stop. The fervor of Blink's lust for live was renewed, because he'd almost lost it. Was he to blame for that? Mush made them matching friendship bracelets, and all was right in the world.

One kiss too many landed on Mush's lips. Mush kissed back. It wasn't discussed what exactly they were, because they both sort of knew. Maybe they were always headed for this, like a train barrelling down the tracks, already laid and nailed into the Earth.

What mattered was what they wanted. To survive, to be together, to sit on the same side of the booth at restaurants, and hold hands, even when it wasn't chilly. To be covered in flowers and wear each others' clothes. Life would be good—no, beautiful—as long as they lived it together.

[mysimsloveaffair]

Maia ignores the near slip-up from Bri. Whatever is going on between them is none of her business.

Maia: I like your shirt.

Brianna: Thanks. I chose it because part of me thinks you're having a boy, but a small part is wishing for a girl, thus the pink flowers.

Maia: Okay, I like your thinking.

Brianna: I know this might be a bit personal, but what does it feel like to be pregnant? Feel free to ignore me if it's inappropriate to ask.

Maia: No, I don't mind.

Maia stops to think about it.

Maia: It feels like nothing short of a miracle. One day, I was just me; the next thing I knew, another sim was growing inside me. It's like I've lost control of part of my body. When the baby moves, my entire stomach sometimes shifts, like the worst case of gas you've ever felt, and I can't do anything about it. There's something humbling about that. I don't know how else to describe it.

Brianna: Wow!

Dwight: Not trying to butt into your conversation, but I have a funny story that's somewhat related to what you're saying.

Maia: I'd love to hear it.

Dwight: As a little kid, I didn't know that only women could get pregnant. Mind you, I was always chubby with a big stomach like this pregnant woman in our neighborhood. So I figured that I was pregnant, too. So, my granny took me to a doctor's appointment, and the doctor said that I had gained some weight since the last appointment. I look up and tell him that I gained weight because I'm pregnant. He tried to explain that little boys and men cannot get pregnant, but I insisted on telling him that I could feel the baby move and everything. Long story short, I was extremely hurt when I learned that the movement was just gas and my stomach was bigger because I was bloated. It all went away after I started taking medication prescribed by my doctor. With some coaxing from my doctor, my granny, who raised me, enrolled me in a woohoo education class at the rec center soon after that.

Maia and Bri laugh at Dwight's story.

Brianna: Oh baby, poor thing. I hope you didn't go around telling anyone else about your 'pregnancy.'

Dwight: Thank the Watcher, I didn't.

Maia: I'm sure you're not the only little boy who ever thought that.

Dwight: Yeah, well, thinking I was pregnant at the time felt a lot better than realizing that I was just chubby for no reason.

Brianna: I bet you were just as adorable as you are now.

Dwight: Adorable?

Brianna: Handsome, I meant—handsome.

Dwight: That's better! Thank you

Maia giggles at how cute Bri and Dwight are together.

[skylarmoon71]

Miguel O'Hara (Across The Spiderverse) - Chapter 8 - Final

Since it was clear that neither of you would stop trying to save the other, Miguel realized that he had no choice but to just accept it.

He never thought he’d be so disgruntled at the thought of someone putting his safety first of all things.

Deep down, he was grateful.

That’s why he knew he had to make this holiday special for you. While it was something slightly different in his universe, the concept was still the same.

Showing that special someone how much you care.

He knew he had no choice but to enlist Lyla’s help. He sucked at showing affection or getting presents. It was a miracle you’d stayed with him so long honestly. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat as you stood in his home with that usual doe eyes look on your face as you stared at him.

You had a bag with you, its contents, he wasn’t really sure. It didn’t seem to matter at the moment. He just needed some courage. With a look to the side, he pulled the gifts from behind his back, holding them out for you.

It was a plushie, one that was the very image of him in his spider suit, a small bouquet of flowers and a heart shaped box of chocolates.

“H-Happy Valentine’s Day.” He mumbled.

He still refused to look in your general direction. Your eyes were wide, because you were stunned. You knew for a fact that Nueva did not have the same holiday. So the fact that he’d researched not just the day, but also bought you gifts was quite honestly the sweetest thing ever. You’d bought your own gifts to surprise him with no intention of getting anything in return.

You just wanted to see that cute expression he made when you gave him something and he pretended like it was no deal but ultimately treasured it with his life. The little keychain you bought him was at his desk at the center and one time Peter got within a hundred feet of it he looked ready to dismember the poor guy.

It’s times like this that you remember just how fortunate you are. Your eyes watered. Miguel finally looked over and when he saw the tears, he wasn’t sure what to do.

“I can get rid of them if you don’t-”

You shook your head, wiping your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“They’re perfect.”

His gaze softened and he lowered his hands just as you pulled back and took the gifts happily from him. You were smiling brightly and at that moment, everything just felt right.

“Thank you Miguel.”

He nods.

“You’re welcome.”

With an extra pep in your step, you dragged him over to the couch as you cuddled into his chest and ate chocolates. The flowers were sitting comfortably in a vase, and you were still grinning at the plushie.

“How did you know I would love this?” You said kissing its cheeks.

“Lyla recommended it.”

Ah, that did make sense.

You giggle, kissing it some more. Miguel knew it was ridiculous to be angry at an inanimate object, but it's angry furrowed printed mask was aimed in his direction and it felt like the thing was laughing at the fact that it had your complete attention.

“You’re so adorable.”

You then persisted to leave more kisses on its cloth cheek. Miguel frowned.

“I’m taking it back.”

“What! No, you can't, it's mine.”

“You keep kissing it. I’m right here.”

“Is somebody jealous?”

You turned and he looked away. You couldn’t help but find his angry pouting face adorable.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, Miguel.”

“I’m not jealous.” He grumbled.

He definitely was.

You smile, placing the plushie on the cushions as you look back at Miguel.

“I love you most Miguel.”

“Which one are you talking about, him or me?”

You laugh, reaching over and sliding right into his lap. He’s too cute sometimes.

“You of course, only you.”

He looked over, those ruby eyes reflecting so much adoration. There were times you wondered if you’d been a saint in a past life, because it was the only explanation for such a miracle that was Miguel O’Hara. He smiled, the one he has reserved just for you, and you leaned in, lips meeting in a soft kiss.

You would never grow tired of this.

[snow-system-wol]

Some moments after S'ria gets to stop being the Warrior of Light, in the cottage he and G'raha retire to. (~2.1k) (Non-graphic mentions of blood/injury)

Ao3

The garden was a pet project, at first. A carryover from plant tending that S'ria did at Revenant's Toll after returning from the First, while trying to process everything.

It was flowers – and then herbs, to occasionally use while cooking, and then bits of fruit and produce as well. It expanded from a few pots in the yard to an ever sprawling space. They had carefully cut down a tree, to clear the extra room.

The tree, of course, found immediate use in both the plot building and in S'ria's workshop. 

It was hard work, getting everything set up. S'ria did the framework of the beds and posts himself, disappearing down to the workshop for hours at a time. But the hauling and digging, that was G'raha.

Disability aside, S'ria took it from there. The river ran right behind their home, so carrying a small bit of water at a time was easy. And weeding wasn't so bad. He preferred to do as much by himself as was safe for him.

(And still – on the bad days, G'raha helped or simply took over those duties for the day. S'ria had mostly gotten past feeling shame over such things.)

It was all worth it, to see S'ria's content expression every time new sprouts appeared in the soil. He cooed over them like it was a miracle, in a voice so soft that G'raha could've been convinced this was Menphina.

On the days where his mood seemed lower, sometimes he would step outside just to stare at the new growth for a few moments.

It was trial and error, a bit. Some plants put too close together, some pests and disease that they studied to find the cause of. S'ria spent more than his typical share of time tucked into plant care tomes. (Not that G'raha would ever begrudge quietly reading together.) But when S'ria carried a nearly perfect tomato into their home, he was grinning in delight.

He immediately confessed to not actually liking tomatoes, but planting one shrub was given as an easy beginner project.

…Perhaps, S'ria commented, that should be replaced by something that he actually liked now.

Most of the missteps were harmless, at least.

One night G'raha walked into their bedroom to hear S'ria having a frantic hushed conversation on the linkpearl. His immediate thought was that something was terribly wrong, until…

“Y'shtola, the mint is back. I thought I got rid of it. Couldn't you come, like, obliterate it out of existence or something, please? Yes, yes, I was warned.” A brief pause. “How was I supposed to know the roots could spread into the ground from the bottom of the pot?!”

S'ria's plaintive whispers stopped once he noticed G'raha standing there, and he simply gave an embarrassed shrug.

Really, it took a century of self-control learned as the Exarch to not fully burst out laughing.

 ----------

There was not much sound in their basement. The quiet sound of G'raha, tucked around a corner in his little ‘study’, turning pages. The occasional scrape and thunk of S'ria honing his craftsmanship in the main space. A faint ticking of a nearby clock.

Anything else was rather muffled by the cellar walls.

So, despite it not being said particularly loud, a hissed “fuck” immediately made G'raha look up from his book and leave his desk.

“Ria, are you alright?”

The first thing that happened, once G'raha stepped into his crafting space, was S'ria conspicuously shoving an object into one of the drawers at the front of the desk. Coming closer, G'raha quickly saw fresh blood (a thankfully small amount). S'ria gave him a slightly embarrassed smile.

“I'm still getting used to how sharp these chisels are, it's not a deep injury.”

G'raha reached out a hand, pausing when S'ria slid his own away.

“Ah, will you not allow me to…?”

S'ria laughed gently. “This may sound silly of me, but… could you heal it enough to prevent infection and stop there? I'm learning a new thing, any little scars are a testament to that.”

“I shall only do as you wish, then.”

S'ria didn't pull his hand away that time, G'raha gently holding it and sending a small amount of aether to that small cut. He didn't actually need to touch S'ria, of course, but it was always nicer like this.

S'ria unsteadily stood and walked over to the small washbasin by his workstation, rinsing away any remaining blood off his hand and chisel. G'raha resisted the urge to offer aid – S'ria never quite liked being fussed over too much on the low pain days. 

G'raha's eyes briefly wandered back to the desk drawers, remembering S'ria's hasty fumbling.

“Say, Ria – you were very quick to get something out of sight.” G'raha's voice took on a slightly teasing tone. “I must confess to a bit of curiosity, upon seeing that.”

S'ria shot him a stern look, barely hiding amusement. “Well, you'll have to stay curious for now.”

G'raha couldn't help but still wonder… embarrassment? Self-conscious of skill? A gift? Well, only time would tell – but he did hope that S'ria would not be ashamed to share his progress.

 

----------

S'ria frowned, drumming his fingers on the table.

“It broke? From what you've said, I doubt he can get around well without his cane.” He chuckled dryly. “I’d know.”

“Yes, a few suns ago by the sound of it. I am not certain if he can afford a replacement.”

S'ria paused his tapping and looked at G'raha. “Will you be back in town tomorrow?”

G'raha tilted his head. “Yes? Why do you ask?”

“If you could ask to bring his broken cane home with you, I reckon I might be good enough now to fix it.”

G'raha stared for a moment and then smiled at the look of determination. “Of course, I shall ask tomorrow.”

 

S'ria took the broken cane carefully, observing it and trying to see what'd happened. The handle was in perfect shape, lovingly worn into the exact grip of a hand. The actual length of it, however, had fully splintered and snapped.

He could see no way to fix it that was likely to last. But really, the most important and familiar part was that handle, so…

S'ria enlisted G'raha's help in getting a sturdy branch down and carved down a replacement, comparing the length to the broken one carefully.

Once the pieces had been joined and the glue fully set, S'ria was pleased to say it felt as sturdy as his own cane. (Albeit uncomfortable to test, with his height being different from this one's intended owner.)

He returned the cane to G'raha with no small amount of excitement. He was proud of the work, and only wished he could more easily give it himself. 

Before G'raha returned to town, S'ria had held him by the shoulders and spoken very firmly. 

“Under no circumstances do I want him to give me his gil. If he tries, refuse.”

 

G'raha did not come home with gil, to S'ria's relief. He did, however, return with fresh bread, several eggs, and an offer for “Edel” to visit for dinner whenever he next rarely came into town. 

He also returned with a message to pass along – a hesitant question about whether he could likely fix a rocking chair. S'ria had beamed, clapping his hands together. 

“If this becomes a regular thing, that suits me just fine.”

 ----------

 

It was just starting to drizzle when someone knocked on their door, and S'ria got up and answered as quickly as was comfortable. 

(After all, as much as the rain existing hurt his leg, standing out in it was all the more unpleasant.)

It took a moment for S'ria to spot the person, not looking down at first. Their visitor was sitting on the porch, clutching at their leg and looking up at S'ria desperately 

“Please, help.” They paused for a moment, looking disoriented, shock setting in. “Oh, you… so this is where Edelweiss lives, I…”

Any further half-lucid commentary was cut off by the stranger fully collapsing. S'ria swore and stepped onto the porch, summoning the strength of his prior occupation to lift the man and bring him inside. 

He paid little mind to the furniture as he got the man settled on the couch – it could be cleaned, or replaced if need be. The same went for his clothes, where one sleeve was quickly stained with blood. That wasn't important. 

Looking at their sudden guest, he looked vaguely familiar. G'raha bought… something from him regularly… ah, some sort of meat?

Oh, yes – S'ria couldn't possibly recall his name, but this was a hunter. That made an assessment of his leg lead to some very specific and troubling realizations. 

First off, it was rather severe. But secondly, and very importantly, this was a bear trap injury.

S'ria would have to have words with someone about dangerous poachers that had no regard for townsfolk safety. (It would be ideal for him or G'raha to not get caught fighting in their quiet little life, but perhaps one of the others could…take care of that.)

But immediately, healing. Menphina fully stepped into place, bracing to begin her work and yelling for G'raha – hopefully loud enough that it'd be heard downstairs. If he was to keep this leg, both of them were needed immediately.

 

The hunter's eyes opened with a groan, startling G'raha and Menphina out of their seats at the kitchen table. They both rushed to his side, G'raha bringing a glass of water.

Menphina kept her voice soft and helped him sit up. “How are you feeling?”

The man blinked and grimaced. “I… G'raha? Edelweiss? Where…?”

Menphina sighed in relief at the fact that he was at least lucid. “You are at our home – you showed up here last night. I assume you were hurt in the woods nearby.”

The hunter jolted and looked down at his bandaged and splinted leg.

Menphina was quick to reassure him, leaving a grounding hand on his back. “Your leg shall be fine. It will just need time to heal.”

G'raha nodded. “I can help you get back into town on the morrow, and then you shall need to take it easy until it feels better.” He paused. “Will that be a problem for you? With your work, I mean.”

The hunter laughed. “With the amount of gil you usually chose to overpay me? Nay, I'll be just fine with some few missing hunts.”

Awake again, and more clearheaded this time, the hunter could not help but glance about their home – they were considered such a mysterious duo, and here he was in their house. His eyes landed on a strange furry creature sitting calmly on the armchair across from him, nearly the size of a lalafell. He blinked in confusion, and the creature stared back. G'raha laughed and offered to tell the “capybara” to leave, if it was making him nervous.

Actually, perhaps being inside their home answered precisely nothing about them, and only gave more questions. Yet, he would never deny the sheer amount of gratitude he felt for their help and hospitality. He was well aware that he'd have likely not survived the night without timely aid. For those few townsfolk that still held a mistrust towards them, towards Edelweiss’s mannerisms in particular, the hunter was quick to share how so very gentle he'd been as a healer.

 

The first time, with the hunter showing up at their home, had been a coincidence. The next time an injured person was brought to their door, the father explaining that they could not afford to go anywhere else, it was clear they'd been intentionally sought out.

----------

 

When G'raha caught S'ria slumped over his workbench, asleep, he'd made sure to wake him long before actually touching him. He sat up groggily, blinking. G'raha cautiously put his hands on S'ria's shoulders and began massaging the stiffness he was sure had set in.

(The angle of S'ria's neck made him wish to try to soothe the crick there as well, but he knew better than to place his hands somewhere so dangerous.)

S'ria leaned back into G'raha's touch with an appreciative groan. “What… time is it?”

“Half past three in the morning.”

S'ria opened his mouth to apologize and then quickly closed it. “And what were you doing, precisely? Would it have anything to do with the newest book you acquired?”

G'raha laughed sheepishly. “I got rather focused, I suppose.” 

S'ria made half an attempt to stand, his right leg protesting movement more fiercely than normal. 

“Here, may I…?”

At S'ria's nod, G'raha smoothly lifted him into his arms, S'ria yelping quietly. 

“I won't complain, but I thought you were just offering a hand with standing.”

“I felt it best to simply deliver you to bed, no extra discomfort needed.” He paused. “And no extra distractions on either of our parts.”

Once G'raha made the first few steps towards their bedroom entrance – luckily in the cellar as well – S'ria gently smacked at his shoulder.

“Now – hold on. I'm half covered in sawdust. Raha, you know you don't want that in our bed. At least let me dress down first instead of launching me in.”

[iwritetopassthetime]

home to you (9/9)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader

CHAPTER EIGHT: Epilogue // Previous chapter // Masterlist

Wordcount: 5.9K

Summary: When two people are meant to be together, fate will always find a way to bring them to each other. It's just that sometimes it's not under the normal-est of circumstances. But a flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all, and Bradley will be ready to go through anything for the love of his Blossom.

Warnings: none for this chapter apart from tooth-rotting, diabetes-inducing fluff that will melt your insides and you will shart them out like yesterday's chilli, Bradley and Blossom get the happy ending they fucking deserve woo-fucking-woo!

Song inspiration: Lover by Taylor Swift

A/N: I'm really happy with the ending of this story, it was a joy to share it with all you wonderful people. I don't know you and I wish I did so I could give each and every single one of you a hug (because you basically made me a little happier with your support over the last few weeks). I'm definitely gonna write more about Bradley and Blossom, I already have head canons and shorts in the works, and if you have any thoughts share them, I'll be happy to stay in the bubble I've created with these two lovebirds for as long as I can!

Bradley drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, vaguely keeping in rhythm with the song playing on the radio. Either that or the blinkers, he wasn’t exactly paying attention. He’d put on the radio to pass the time, but had inadvertently failed to pay much attention to whichever mixtape he’d shoved into the player.

The mid-afternoon sun was beating down on the Bronco as it sat in the same place next to the sidewalk for the past twenty minutes. Even with the air conditioning on, the late August heat was uncomfortably warm on Bradley’s forearms. He reached over for the glove compartment, searching for the small bottle of sun cream that you’d casually dropped into the shopping cart few weeks prior. 

‘I can’t allow you to keep getting sunburnt and then wait for it to just go away on its own, Bradley’ you’d justified the off-the-shopping-list purchase and Bradley merrily followed along. He wasn’t going to pretend that the cream hadn’t done miracles for his face whenever you joined the Dagger squad for a weekly trip to the beach. 

So he lathered a good amount of it on his arms.

He checked his watch again; he couldn’t tell if you taking so long was good or not. The interview would’ve finished by now as you were given a very specific time slot. But if they kept you longer, that could only mean that they were interested in you and Bradley would think them stupid if they didn’t. 

Bradley leaned his head back against the seat and stared out his window at the vehicles driving past him. When he got too agitated doing that, he pulled out his phone and checked for any missed calls, messages and emails. When he found none, he opened his internet browser to — at the very least — complete today’s game of Wordle. After three tries he got four of the five letters down and it was a piece of cake to guess the word. How many times a day does he even use or think of the word fjord? 

He checked again to see if you were exiting the building, but there was no sign from you. Just tall French windows that led into a specious lobby with a simplistic receptionist desk. Behind it was an entire wall covered by a vertical garden, consisting of some ferns and other things that you’d most likely know the name of. You’d know how to take care of them, how to pair one plant with another depending on the type of soil, which time of year they’d be best to plant and when they’d flower. Bradley really hoped the interviewers would see that.

The past three months had been filled with change for you; three months since the-dick-who-will-never-be-named turned up at the Hard Deck to try and strong-arm you into going back to L.A. with him. Over my dead body, Bradley had thought then and that position hadn’t changed one bit. You had been pretty shaken up by the ordeal and he remembered that night as well as he remembered the first time you showed him the bruises on your neck. He’d feel angry for what that guy did to you, then he’d grow sad that there wasn’t more that he could do, but those emotions were opposed by two stronger ones: admiration for how strong you were despite your sweet and soft nature, and adoration.

You’d cried your eyes out on his chest when you were both back at Penny’s, laying in bed. Bradley had made sure to keep your injured hand on his chest so it would stay elevated during the night. You’d taken some ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and help with the pain, but no pill could’ve helped with the sadness that washed over you the moment you laid your head on his chest. Bradley’s hand on your hair had smoothed it down repeatedly and very gently, aware that you might be anxious to allow him to do so after having it violently yanked at by that guy. Whispered reassurances and words of praise were the only thing that had accompanied your sniffles as your breathing eased and you had finally fallen asleep in Bradley’s embrace.

Many things had changed after that night. 

All for the better, of course. 

Once Phoenix and Frankie had returned from L.A., with all your belongings hastily stuffed into boxes or bags and their promise that your ex would never look for you again, your days began returning to the normalcy they’d assumed over the past month. 

Penny had started taking you to see her therapist which furthered the improvement. You were more relaxed and felt calmer around people, you’d told Bradley. You had stopped looking over your shoulder every time someone walked through the doors of the Hard Deck.

‘I’m gonna start looking for a job in some landscaping companies,’ you’d told him whilst out on a dinner date. Bradley couldn’t be happier; after the amazing job you’d done with Penny’s backyard, it was clear to him that you had a talent and it deserved all the recognition you could get. So you’d put together a nice portfolio, containing pictures of your work at your last place and plenty of your most recent one. 

Bradley’s personal favourite (and he’d made sure to get a copy of it) was a picture taken from the steps to the backyard, early in the morning when the light of the morning sun shining above the roofs of the house behind lit up all the flowers and made them glow in deep oranges, reds and pinks. The picture was a testament to your skills as a gardener and captured a place and a time that was so special to you both.

Bradley had attached it to his visor so even now when he pointlessly pulled it down just to stare into his own reflection and kill a few seconds, the picture made him feel as warm as the sun rays looked on it. 

The passenger door opened and climbed onto the seat next to Bradley as he snapped the visor shut. He leaned over and gave you a quick peck with a murmured hello again, baby before you reached for your seatbelt. 

You always looked pretty, in anything you wore and particularly when you wore nothing at all. But today you looked stunning; a crisp white blouse with the top two buttons undone, fitted jeans and your black sneakers that were double washed, the white rubber polished to perfection. You looked every bit professional and beautiful, from your exposed, delicate ankles to your hair which had gone through the most drastic change over the past few months. 

After the incident, you had spent days where you felt uncomfortable with your hair, with its length and how it brushed against your shoulders. It pained Bradley that he couldn’t fully understand the extent of your pain and that he couldn’t help you. As far as he knew you had a very special connection to your hair that your mother had nurtured in you from an early age. So having something so special for you attacked… it made sense when you came up to him one afternoon and asked him to drive you to Penny and Amelia’s hairdresser.

The neat pixie cut you’d gotten fit you so well. At the salon, Bradley had tried to stop string at you through the mirror but he had been so terribly excited to see the light come back to your eyes when you ran your fingers through your much shorter hair.

Three months later and it had started to grow slowly, more noticeably around your ears and at the back of your neck. Your fringe would fall across your forehead and tickle against your eyelashes. The hairstyle allowed for your ears to poke out from the sides and give you very elf-like look which you wore well. 

Most importantly, you seemed comfortable in your body and that was all Bradley needed to know.

He watched you patiently as you settled back in your seat and placed your tote bag in your lap with a somewhat dejected sigh.

His heart gave a pang at the sound.

‘Didn’t go well?’

‘No, no, it was great,’ you replied with a small smile, but a pout was in the corner of your mouth. ‘It’s weird… They liked the stuff in my portfolio and I like the company. The stuff they do is really diverse, like, they’ve been contracted to do maintenance on some botanic gardens around the state.’

‘That’s cool.’

‘The salary is good as well. Not that it’s all that matters, but it would give me my financial independency back, you know.’

Bradley nodded. ‘So what’s wrong then?’

‘Twenty rejections from companies that are much less stellar than this one,’ you explained softly. ‘Doesn’t make sense why these people would want to hire me. I’m supposed to get a call back tonight to know for certain, but I really don’t wanna get my hopes up.’

Bradley started the jeep and clicked the indicator before turning left to get onto the road. He lifted his hand from the shift stick at the first red light and placed it tenderly on your knee. Your own hands came atop his and he gave your leg a squeeze. 

‘You might be overthinking it, Blossom,’ he said softly and with an equally soft smile. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s go grab lunch and do some last minute shopping for the barbecue tonight. Don’t think about the call, don’t think about work and when they do call tonight, I’m one hundred percent sure it’ll be to confirm you’re hired.’

‘You think so?’

‘Like I said, hundred percent sure,’ Bradley assured you. ‘Do you want grab some Taco Bell then.’

You tilted your head and gave him a look that said do you need to even ask, making Bradley chuckle to himself as the traffic light turned green.

‘But we’ll have to get Amelia some too,’ you added. ‘She’ll smell it on us from a mile away and give us grief about not also getting her some.’

After a quick trip to Taco Bell, Bradley took you to the nearest park to eat your lunch. He stopped the Bronco near the edge of sprawling grass area where families and their children were enjoying the sunny day. The line of tall trees that surrounded the park casted a colourful shadow on the ground and allowed instant relief from the late summer heat. 

As the two of you got out of the car, you grabbed the paper bags and let Bradley helped you onto the hood of the Bronco. The metal was warm from sitting under the sun for so long but was not too uncomfortable to sit on. A gust of wind blew through the trees, rustling through Bradley’s half-opened shirt and cooling his heated skin a little. 

Bradley leaned back on his palms as he watched you take item after item from the take away bags and array them in a small feast. You scooted closer to him and threw your legs over his, stuffing some fries that were generously dipped in melted nacho cheese in your mouth before feeding him some too. 

Bradley hummed contentedly, taking your wrist in his hand and bringing your fingers to his mouth to suck on the spice that remained on your thumb. You choked out a half laugh, half gasp and he let your hand drop to his chest, grinning devilishly your way. 

‘Did I tell you you look gorgeous today?’ He asked softly. 

You playfully rolled your eyes, ‘Only ten times since this morning.’

‘Only? Man, I should’ve been into three-digit numbers by now, I’m falling behind.’

‘It’s okay, you can make up to me,’ you quipped, handing him a taco. Bradley took it from your hand but immediately put it down on his side as he instead placed his hand on your cheek and pulled you in. His lips pressed against yours without any urgency, just simple affection. 

Bradley pulled back just to leave a quick peck to the tip of your nose. ‘How’s that?’

‘Perfect,’ you sighed through a grin. You turned a little in your place to lean against Bradley’s chest and munched on a quesadilla. He took the taco you’d given him from the hood, unwrapped it and bit down on the crispy shell. 

The light shined through the tree canopy to paint your tangled legs in sunspots. The distant sound of laughter and dogs barking were still louder than cars driving outside the bounds of the park and submerged you both in a sense of calm.

Bradley pressed his nose to the crown of your head and smiled as the sweet aroma of your cocoa butter shampoo hit his senses. It also reminded him of rubbing said shampoo into your scalp earlier that day while your arms were lazily rubbing the loofah down his naked back and he was loathe to admit just how smug that memory made him. 

‘Can you believe it’s been four months already?’ You quietly asked. Bradley shook his head against yours and you leaned further into his touch. 

He could very easily believe it in fact, because he remembered each and every day he’d spend with you in his life, from your first meeting to this day. He’d made up a calendar in his mind and at the end of each night when he’d lay his head on the pillow and you’d curl around him like his very own koala bear, he’d blissfully cross out yet another date. 

You lifted your hand to his mouth again to feed him a couple more fries. ‘Feels like yesterday,’ you admitted through a smile. Bradley hummed, kissing the top of your head again to give his wordless agreement.

A couple of children that had been chasing a ball some distance away from the Bronco, kicked it close enough that it bumped the front left tyre. The two giggled as they skidded off to retreat it, drawing near the car and being momentarily distracted by your make-shift picnic. Bradley stifled a smile into your hair as you waved and warmly greeted the two kids. 

They waved back, but otherwise seemed more interested in the abundance of junk food you were surrounded by. They were quickly warded off by their parents who yelled at them to behave and don’t bother those nice people, Jeremy so they hastily retrieved the ball before running back towards the grassy knoll that was their playground. 

Bradley reached around you for the carton cup holder and offered you your drink before pulling out his. As he slurped the chilled Pepsi, he heard the soft sigh you let out as you noticeably turned your head against his shoulder. His hand that was holding the cup dropped down and he tilted his face so he could peer down at your pensive expression. 

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah… um, would you ever want one?’ You fully turned your face to look at him and your eyebrows scrunched adorably. ‘A kid, that is. I know we’ve never discussed it and I don’t know if you think that three months is too early to be talking about children.’

‘Yeah, I’d love to,’ he gently interrupted your worried rambling and your face visibly relaxed. ‘I’m guessing you do, too?’

‘I’ve always dreamed of it. Not yet though…’

‘Hey, there’s no rush.’

He caught the edge of your mouth drawing up in a smile as you turned your head back around to watch the tranquil park. Bradley rubbed your shoulder with his free hand and kissed your temple. 

Of course, he’d thought plenty about having children and as of these past few months, he’d started to picture that life with you. He agreed with you that it was still very early in your relationship, but that didn’t stop his brain from delving into those deep caverns in his consciousness that contained all his desires of a happy, family life. A couple, maybe three kids — you’d always have final say on that subject — and maybe a dog, he’d always wanted a dog. 

‘Bradley,’ you softly called his name and he hummed in response, prompting you to continue. ‘If I manage to get a job—’

‘When you get the job,’ he corrected, still firm in his decision that this last interview had been a success and you were simply overthinking it.

‘Okay, okay.’ His whispered good girl was met with a tiny noise of appreciation as you wiggled your shoulder against him and looked back up at him. ‘When I get the job…’ Bradley bobbed his head in a nod and smiled around the straw of his cup, ‘where do you want us to live? Because we’re still mostly living at Penny’s, but we’ve been to your place on base a couple of times.’

‘And you hated it,’ Bradley chuckled at the memory of the first time he took you to his assigned flat on North island and the thoroughly unimpressed face you pulled when he parked the Bronco in the driveway.

‘I didn’t exactly hate it,’ you argued. ‘It’s just… there’s no place for me to do gardening and that’s a deal breaker for me.’

Bradley nodded along.

‘I wanted to know what you thought. If you wanna move fully into that flat, then I’ll just get pots and grow herbs in the kitchen. That’s good enough for me.’

But that wouldn’t be enough for him; Bradley wanted whichever place you ended up living in to be as much yours as it was his. He didn’t want you to make that big of a compromise because he knew how much you loved tending to plants. Pots of herbs in the kitchen were fine by him, but not as your only source of diversion. 

There was also the subject of his work and the general sense of uncertainty that came with it. How long would he be stationed on North island with the rest of the Dagger squadron? His last stint at the Golden Warriors lasted about five years and the only way they’d let him stick to his current location was if he married. Which wasn’t an altogether bad idea, just a little early for him to be popping the question. No matter how much it suddenly appealed to him…

‘Here’s my plan.’ You settled your hands in your lap as you patiently waited for him to elaborate. ‘Let’s wait for you to start the job, see how you feel there the first two or three weeks, and we can start looking for some place in the area. And we’re getting a house with a sufficient garden space so you can do your magic, that’s a deal breaker for me as well. What do you think?’

Bradley felt his heart swell with joy when he saw the excited smile that grew on your lips before you planted them briefly on his and your delicate hand rested against his chest. Just above where the thumping organ was making every effort to jump right out of him and land in your palm. 

‘I think it’s a wonderful plan,’ you admitted quietly after parting your lips from his. ‘Let’s just see if they actually hire me before we set anything into motion.’

‘They will hire you!’ Bradley argued and you laughed in response. He shook his head. ‘Oh, I’ll try really hard not to gloat when you get the call back to confirm it.’

‘Alright, alright,’ you poked his ticklish side, making Bradley convulse and let out a very high-pitched shriek. He took your by the arms — ever gentle whenever he held you — hoisted you over his lap and dig his fingers just below your left armpit where he knew you to have a very soft spot.

You squealed with laughter as he tickled you and wiggled against his arms without the actual desire for him to let you go. Bradley stilled his hands against your side, his fingers dropping down to hold onto your waist as your giggling quieted down. You grinned up at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Bradley lowered his face, his mouth ghosting against yours and leaving a trail of gooseflesh wherever he almost left a kiss. 

‘Bradley.’ 

Your sigh of his name was perhaps one of his favourite sounds, made him positively feral. 

Bradley lowered his mouth to your neck and felt you twitch against his chest when his moustache rubbed against the soft skin, just below the line of your jaw. Your mouth opened by his ear for another soft sigh to come out out, impale his senses and drive all the blood from his body down to his cock. Your reaction to feeling him grow harder beneath your ass was instantaneous and you chuckled somewhat triumphantly.

‘Why do I feel like I’m winning at this despite you having me pinned down,’ you purred against the shell of his ear and Bradley felt a full body tremor go through him when your hot breath brushed his skin. 

‘It’s ‘cause I’d let you win at anything.’ His soft admittance was muted against the slope of your neck where he began sucking a small, but evident enough love bite. 

‘Now where’s the fairness and gen- gender equality in that?’ Your response came shakier than you probably intended; what you did next was to slowly lift your chin up and allow him more access. 

When Bradley pulled back to examine his work — the nice round red shape that was partially covered up by the collar of your blouse — he felt warmth rush to his face and neck at the sight. Leaving a love bite like that was so horribly base and primal, but something about it was mildly arousing. Mine, it claimed and a deeply embarrassed groan rumbled in his chest. 

Bradley dropped his forehead on your shoulder. You softly laughed, ‘Aw, what’s wrong, Mr Big-Strong-Navy-Man?’

He loved your teasing. The first time it happened was like the sun had come out and he was seeing you differently, not in a bad way but in a wow-my-girlfriend-is-fucking-amazing kind of way. 

‘As much as I’d enjoy you marking me like that,’ you began softly and made Bradley lift his head to look at you. ‘I’d much rather you do that when there aren’t any children nearby.’

‘You’re right,’ Bradley nodded and kissed the tip of your nose. ‘Maybe I should’ve also waited till after the barbecue, huh?’

You hummed and tried to peek at the small red love bite. ‘I dunno. Isn’t that kind of the point of it, show it off?’

There was a humorous lilt to your voice yet it sounded so serious that Bradley’s breath hitched. If you really wanted it he’d leave all the love bites he could, in every place on your beautiful body where you wanted him to. His impassioned thoughts were momentarily ceased as you held up a finger.

‘And though I’d love to continue, we really need to get going if we want to beat the traffic and make a pit stop at the supermarket.’

‘You’re right,’ Bradley said again as he helped you off of the hood of the jeep. 

You smirked up at him as you gathered the left over paper bags from your lunch. ‘You know, I’m really starting to like the sound of that.’

‘I bet you do, princess.’

You bumped your hip against his and stuck your tongue out before skipping off to the nearest bin to dispose of the trash. Bradley simply leaned against the Bronco and watched you with a half grin and eyes that were trying their best not to stare at your ass as you walked away from him. With you he discovered just how true hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go was.

Frankie’s red Subaru, Hangman’s vintage Ford Mustang and Fanboy’s Toyota were already parked in a perfect line along the curb outside of Penny’s house when the two of you got there. The sun was getting lower and lower on the other side of the two-storey homes that lined the street and the sky was replacing its soft blue hue for an intense shade of pink and orange with only the occasional wisp of a cloud breaking the continuity.

Bradley turned right into the driveway and killed the engine right behind Penny’s jeep, before grabbing the few shopping bags that were sitting on the back seat.

He took a second to take in the look and size of it, a bit narrow in the leg room but still very much specious. He thought that it could potentially hold a couple of booster seats if he—

‘Bradley, baby, are you coming?’ 

Yeah, maybe he should definitely give those thoughts a rest for now. No use in getting ahead of himself even if the seed was now planted in his mind and there was no way it’d die out with how generously you were cultivating it. Especially with how absolutely ravishing you looked in that outfit.

Bradley jogged around the car with the bags in hand. You offered to take at least one or two of them to help out but he refused, suggesting you head on upstairs if you wanted to change. You kissed his cheek and reminded him to put the cupcakes you two bought in the fridge lest the icing became more like sludge. 

Bradley made a beeline for the kitchen after he watched you rush upstairs and disposed the bags onto the island. He could now clearly hear voices and music coming from outside. The steady hum of the cicada song accompanied them in what sounded like a perfect evening to finish off summer before autumn began. 

As he was moving things to cupboards or to the fridge, Bradley could distinctly make out Fanboy and Bob’s heated discussion about the team’s plans for Halloween which meant that summer was truly done. Next, they’ll probably have to think about Christmas decorations. 

Bradley smiled at the thought of spending Christmas with you, spending any holiday with you really. Made him excited about things he’d spent years avoiding because they used to remind him of just how much he’d lost. But now he had you and the rest of his odd little family which made him eagerly expect the upcoming holidays. 

‘Hey, Rooster!’

Bradley turned to see Maverick walk into the kitchen through the back door. He waved at his godfather as he walked up to the pantry in search of something. He muttered under his nose before poking his head out.

‘Did you get cumin by any chance?’

Bradley lifted a small jar with a small grin and carefully tossed it at the older man who easily caught it.

‘Sorry, we’re late, we grabbed some lunch and lost track of time,’ Bradley explained as he folded the shopping bags and put them in their allocated cupboard underneath the countertop. Maverick waved a hand dismissively.

‘That’s alright. Hangman and I just started putting the, uh… vegan sausages on the grill. Any news from the job interview?’

‘They’ll be calling her by the end of today,’ Bradley told him. ‘She’s a little anxious they’ll turn her down, but I think this might be it.’

‘I looked them up online, they do some really cool stuff,’ Maverick explained, reached into the fruit bowl. ‘Do you think orange goes well with beef?’

‘It does. Blossom took me to a Thai restaurant the other week and we had some amazing orange beef skewers.’

‘Alright, I’ll get Coyote to add this to the marinate at the end so we can try it out. Oh, I actually wanted to give you something,’ Maverick put the oranges back down on the counter before reaching into the pocket of his bomber jackets. He pulled his hand out, revealing a small navy blue box with velveteen lining. A ring box. 

Bradley looked at his godfather with a slightly bemused expression. ‘Mav, I’m flattered, but I’m half your age and you’re kinda like my uncle.’

‘Very funny, Rooster. Open it.’

Maverick pushed the box towards him and Bradley obligingly opened it up. He paused when in the middle of the cushioned inside sat two rings that he was very familiar with. The smaller one — a thin golden band with a single zirconium rock at the head — had rested on the finger of a hand that held his. A hand that ruffled his hair each morning as a greeting. A hand that he’d cherished like his life.

The larger ring — a simple wide band with no embellishments — he vaguely recalled on someone else’s hand but throughout his younger years, it used to hang at the end of a very long chain, along with two dog tags.

His mother and father’s wedding rings. 

Bradley slowly looked up at Maverick whose eyes were still on the box, glistening with mournful tears. He smiled tightly and cleared his throat. 

‘These’s, uh… your mom made me promise I’d keep them safe for you,’ Mav explained tensely. ‘Thought it be a pretty good time to give them to you.’

Bradley’s throat closed up as he nodded in understanding, clutching the box tighter in his hand. ‘Thanks, Mav. I— Blossom and I just talked about moving in together into our own place, once she gets the job… these might be a little early.’

Maverick huffed, ‘I know, I know. I’m just really happy for you two, kids. Thought I’d just pass these along as instructed. Who knows… your dad proposed to your mom by the third month of their relationship and that was considered an extremely long courtship in 1985.’

Bradley grinned and swallowed down the sudden influx of emotion that threatened to spill out of him. He carefully closed the box and pocketed it just in time as the sound of your feet pattering down the stairs reached his ears. 

‘They called! Oh my god, they called!’

You appeared at the entrance of the kitchen in his UVA sweatshirt and a pair of black bike shorts. Bradley looked at you in excitement, waiting for you to reveal what he already knew. He could see it in your wide, elated eyes. 

Your bare feet padded against the wooden floor as you ran up to Bradley and engulfed him in a hug, your arms wrapping around his middle. 

‘I’m hired! You were right, I’m hired!’

‘That’s great, baby!’ Bradley kissed the top of your head, his chest filling with instant pride. He didn’t doubt for a second you’d make it even after all the rejections you got from from previous places. He knew that was the place for you.

‘Congratulations, kiddo!’ Maverick came around the island to pat you on the shoulder as you lifted your head off of Bradley’s chest. Your eyes were glistening and the smile wouldn’t fall off your lips whatever happened. He loved seeing you like this, without a single worry hanging over your head. 

Bradley kept one hand on the lower of your back as you pulled away. You took a deep breath to calm down but it was obvious that you were too exhilarated. You looked between Bradley and Maverick.

‘Did I interrupt a conversation?’

‘No, no,’ Bradley hurried to assure you.

‘I was just grabbing something for the marinade,’ Maverick added. He grabbed the oranges from the island countertop and made for the back door. ‘Bradley, grab a six-pack from the fridge and let’s head out.’

‘Be there in a second,’ he told his godfather before turning back to you. You smiled up at him and stood up on your toes to give him a kiss, arms coming about his shoulders to pull him closer. Bradley let his own arms wrap again around your waist and rub soft circles though the material of the sweatshirt. 

The two of your separated after a moment and Bradley nuzzled his nose against yours, drawing a soft giggle from your mouth. Your fingers clutched at the lapels of his shirt. 

‘I’m so proud of you, Blossom.’ 

‘It’s unreal,’ you admitted shyly. ‘I feel like I need to pinch myself.’

Bradley shook his head. ‘It’s real and you deserve it. Did they say when you start?’

‘Monday next week,’ you told him. ‘I’ll get my own office in their building, but they’ll need me to jump on a project that their previous horticultural expert left. Can you believe it? They said that my knowledge puts me at expert level!’

‘Okay, so we have the whole weekend to celebrate your new title, Madam Horticultural expert.’

You chuckled and playfully slapped his chest.

‘Come on now.’ Bradley jogged to the fridge to pull out a six pack of Budweiser before taking your hand and walked you towards the backyard. ‘My girlfriend got a cool new job and I need to brag about he to all my friends.’

‘Alright then, Lieutenant.’

Bradley grinned widely, an expression was reflected on your own face as he pushed the door open and called out to everybody, ‘Blossom got the job!’

The exclamation was met with loud cheering from the squadron that was at different ends of the garden space.

The picnic table was extended by another small circular table and more chair were added around it to fit the big party. Bob, Fanboy, Payback and Amelia were sitting around the main table, playing Uno which Amelia was seemingly winning to the three men’s dismay. Coyote was mixing up marinade at a foldable table next to the grill with Hangman hanging over his shoulder and giving unnecessary instructions that his boyfriend who was pointedly ignoring them. Penny was making her way over to you and Bradley with Frankie and Phoenix in toe to congratulate you.

Bradley made room for the three other women by taking a small step back, but lingered by your side as he was too happy to even think of going anywhere else. He wanted to stay by your side and see that look of joy on your face every day for as long as he lived. 

The box in his cargo shorts weighed down and its importance was not missed by him. Bradley patted it, promising himself to hide it well tonight. He already knew he’d spend the rest of his life with you, he already knew he’d want to have children with you. But if he was going to do it, he wanted it to be a perfect moment. 

Tonight was such a moment, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he took away the spotlight from your achievement. You deserved all the praise that your aunt and your friends were showering over you as you swatted them away, humbly promising that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Bradley felt your fingers thread through his as you pulled him with you to follow the other three women to the picnic table. The two of you were directed to a foldable loveseat by a very smug Phoenix who kept eyeing your neck. 

‘Can we can start looking for our own place?’ You asked him as soon you were both sat down. 

Bradley reached for two bottles of Bud and handed you one. ‘Yeah, I don’t see a reason why not.’

You smiled brightly as you looked up at him. Bradley wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to himself. Neither of you knew it at that time but the same thought came to your minds as you watched the other; wherever life took you, wherever you lived, that place would be home because it’s what you and Bradley were to each other. 

Home.

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tags: @gretagerwigsmuse @jupitercomet @youlightmeupfinn @craftymoonchaos @the-winter-marvel33 @agent-jbarnes @blahehblah @katieshook02 @amysteryspot @daisyhollyxox @marantha @piceous21 @mak-32 @twoosinrooster @adoringsebstan @everyoneslovechild @shityoudidntaskfor @alluringshawn @marsontoast @lemur46 @taytaylala12 @benhardysdrumstick @strangeangelflapsuitcase @shanimallina87 @beachesandboats @ishipit1420 @machsachds @wishfulhope (crossed over names are people I wasn't able to tag, sorry)

[hannahhook7744]

Chloe Charming headcanons revised;

Chloe is Cinderella and Kit Charming's only biological child.

She is 8 years younger than her.

She is 18 by the time the pocketwatch takes place.

Her middle name is Cordelia after her maternal grandmother.

She is 8 in d1 and too young to go to Auradon Prep which is why the vks didn't know about her.

She's very athletic and loves fencing in particular.

Chad use to play them and other games with her before their grandfather died when Chad started middle school. Chad hasn't played games or really spent real time with her since. At least not as much as he used to.

Chloe is sickly and has a heart condition which takes up a lot of her parents' time and attention.

She's also small and frail for her age.

She is her parents' miracle baby since they thought they couldn't have bio children.

Which is one of the many reasons why Chad is the way he is.

She has a pet cat named 'Bumpsy'. Bumpsy is an old cat and one of the many children of Lucifer and Pom-Pom.

Chad has a kitten that is a child of that of one of Lucifer and Pom-Pom's litter, but he doesn't let Chloe touch it.

He doesn't let her touch his mice,horse, and dog either.

It bothers Chloe even though she has her own mice, horse,and dog.

Chad does love his sister but he can't help but resent her sometimes.

Chloe gets along with her cousins usually (if they're alive during whatever story I'm using her in, anyway).

Chloe has alot of stuffed animals that were her only friends for the longest time.

Her favorite is this werid, bat-thingy that she named 'Charm'.

She, like Chad, is wary of the vks because of the things they were told about them from adults around them.

She was homeschooled unlike Chad.

She also never grows out of being bored by council meetings.

She has quite the collection of swords thanks to her parents spoiling her every chance she gets.

She is a sweet and friendly but competitive, athletic girl who just wants to make her kingdom and parents proud.

Though in any other situation she is shy and nervous. Mainly because she hasn't been away from home that often.

Her favorite song is 'Happy' by Pharrell Williams.

Chloe is quite good at sports as well as dancing and singing.

Her favorite dances are the waltz and the polka.

She has a pink and blue phone that she loves dearly.

Not as much as she loves fairies and flowers however.

When she was little she liked to play fairies, which was basically pretending to be a fairy, since of course she's heard all about the fairy that granted her mother's wish, and she knows FG and Jane. She's very close to Jane, sort of like Dizzy and Evie.

She was at the coronation when Maleficent showed up and that scared her into never leaving her home for like the next few years.

It took hours for her very frantic parents and brother to find her.

It took her ages to not be afraid of Dragons after this.

Chloe is a quick learner and loves school as well as reading.

She loves corn, chicken, toast, and porridge as well as hot chocolate. It's pretty much all she eats.

Her horse's name is 'Speedy'.

Her dog's name is Bailey and she is one of Bruno's litter.

Her favorite color is blue.

She was homeschooled until she was 10.

She met Red Hearts, Danny Darling, Hadie Olympian, and Maddox Hatter— her future best friends—not long after.

She considers Prudence, The Duke, The Baker, and Fg her aunts and uncles.

She also considers Jane and Eliza her cousins.

She doesn't get the whole 'magic being frowned upon' thing.

She named her dolly 'Jane' and never changed the name.

She loves parades and carousels as well as other festivals.

She adores Chad despite his flaws.

In a world where he disappears she never stops looking for him.

Her parents take her to them often when she's well enough.

Her earliest memory is of her, Chad, and their grandfather at the circus when she was a toddler.

She has a small pastel blue and pink bicycle with a bell, basket, tassels, tail lights, and brakes.

Christmas is her favorite holiday and her least favorite is Valentine's day.

She hates her parents and brother being sad.

Her 2nd favorite color is pink and her 3rd favorite is gold.

The kingdom loves her. As does anyone who meets her.

She is allergic to hair dye and strawberries.

Her favorite aunt is Anastasia.

She hates Drizella.

She likes her uncle Hans and his brothers and her other uncle, Jacob, though.

She thinks the world of her parents.

Chloe is also a fan of chickens and has several pet chickens that run around the castle.

She loves musicals and balls as well as water fountains.

She grows up to be a famous fencer and horse racer and becomes a seamstress before taking the crown when her parents die.

Like her grandfather before her, she adores chocolate, elephants, stewed prunes, romance, bird watching, fencing, and beaches.

She eventually gets a pet elephant when she is a teenager and names it 'Circus.'

She use to watch the birds and go to Circuses with her brother and grandfather.

She was devastated when her grandfather, Prudence, and the Duke died.

She ends up being a fine Queen like her grandmother before her and there are statues of her, her cousins, her brother, and her friends all around her kingdom years after their deaths.

Eventually, after Auradon falls, an ancestor of her cousin, Dizzy, builds a mansion where their castle once stood. And has a son named Fred. And that's how Big hero six plays out in the descendants universe.

[burritofriedrich]

hello,i am chinese.I love ur fanfiction in ao3 about french revolution.I' d like to know how u feel about saint-just and robespierre and their relationship.

Hi!!! Thank you sm <3 this is my first ask ever haha ! 

In my ffs the relationship and the romantic sparkle between them is more an idea of fiction. I can not stress this point enough because I dislike the „radical“ ship-culture that sometimes is present in fandoms about historical events, which often fails to differentiate between historical fact and fiction. The „they were roommates“-trope is often met with eye rolls but serves as a necessary reminder that for most historical figures there is no evidence for romantic interaction and in my opinion it would be rude to assume they had!

All this applies to the Robespierre/Saint-Just relationship. Historically, they were two figures who talked, wrote letters and spend time together. The sources we have about their relationship should be put in context with their historical time to fully understand it and not misinterpret them as something more than friends as a person of todays time likely would, since not everyone wants to do the necessary research. Some of the sentences written sure sound really intense for us – I‘m looking at you, 1790-August-letter from Saint-Just saying „you whom I only know, like God, through his miracles“ – but they get a new context if one looks at the friendship-culture of that time and the idea of fraternité. It sure is a strong sentence after all haha! I would be lying if I said it did not touch me while reading it, also reading their correspondence and of course reading about their shared death. There is a certain beauty to die for ones ideals and doing it together can easily get romanticised with tropes such as „shared destiny“ etc etc. 

I gathered all these little things about their relationship and hold it dear to me, transform the feelings I get from it into vibes and these vibes into fiction. And I think it is very important to always be able to separate the historical figures from the idea we have of them: it‘s the only way you can keep history a hobby and a profession at the same time. 

What intrigued me the most about their relationship and made me want to write about them is the symbolism they offer! Saint-Just happened to be a little history-crush of mine ever since we read his speech against the king in middle-school. Sadly, I forgot about him until I started studying at university and worked on french 1800 century. art. There I read about him again and learned his nickname of „archangel of death“ and people calling his writings „evangelism of Saint-Just“. I was obsessed! I love angle symbolism, it offers such a variety to give a deeper meaning to a text.

I fell for the idea of Saint-Just being a young revolutionary, described as angelic, yet cruel and deadly. He was a symbol of radicalism for me and dragged me (and still drags) in a philosophical dilemma between holding such ideals of freedom and equality but creating a thing like the Terror.

Robespierre being referred to as „ you whom I only know, like God “ only helped to build the symbolism around angel and christian martyrs. He of course is a highly interesting person and I wish to read more of his speeches. 

In „Dying in a hottub“ one can already collect small allusions to the angel-symbol such as him gifting lilies (the flower of archangel Gabriel) to Robespierre or his fascination of Justicia and the scale (a devise also linked to archangel Michel). I plan to expand on this theme in later chapters. I hope the reader can see how I let my modern-AU Saint-Just struggle with his everyday life, the role which he wants to fullfill in university and the role he wants to fullfill in his friend circle. The root of his struggles lies in being an idealist with unattainable aspirations making him feel lost. Sometimes I feel this way too, to be honest.

My modern-AU Robespierre finds himself in the same position: Unable to follow all of his ideals. But he on the other hand, tries to find a compromise and to understand why he can't achieve them and consequently what changes have to be made to fullfill them. He does struggle too of course, but he is better in finding compromises. He is aware of his position in life and maintains composure, while Saint-Just feels lost. To him Robespierre appears steady as if he faces no struggles at all, making him admirable in his eyes. 

In „My love language is killing annoying people for u“ I play around with the themes of trust and passage of time. They are trusting each other while struggling to rely on anybody else. They share many moments together although destiny only grants them little time. These tragic counterparts inspired me to write about this relationship! 

Puh! I never really wrote this exposition down, it had only been in my head until now haha I hope it makes sense!! Thank you for reading my ff and please feel free to reach out to me I love talking about it and hearing what others think <3 

[ducky-duckuwu]

Yet untitled Hanahaki disease Fenro’s Fanfic

This morning I was being silly and watching a video about hanahaki fanfics in multiple fandoms and I was curious if a ship I like (fenro) had one so I began searching. To my disappointment and surprise there was just a single one in ao3 and from an orphan account.

I crave content and I started to write my own, I´m yet to get my ao3 account and I decided to publish the thing I wrote here!

Warnings: English is not my first language, if something doesn´t make sense sorry.

Something strange was happening around the world that set emergency alarms ringing. No one knows exactly when did the mess began, it all happen so suddenly, unexpected. A patient zero couldn’t be identified thanks to the multiple cases and the numbers grew day by day. It all pointed to a new disease, highly contagious it seemed, as soon enough it turned to a global event. The cause remained yet unknown, the scientist tried his best to gather clues, symptoms, all information to try to figure out this sickness that was starting to takes peoples lives.

All started as a simple cough, a little itching deep in the throat and nothing more. Surely it could be mistaken at first with the starting of a cold but the more time passed the worse it got. The victim would start to feel like something was stuck in his air canal, coughing will intensify and a small object will come out of their mouth: a flower´s petal. Root steams growing within of people’s lungs were suffocating them little by little; small flowers would star to grow. Unreal was the word the first experts used to describe the cases, how could a virus provoke anything like that?

Borders began to close; with no knowledge on its transmission taking precautions was the best thing to do. Trials were carried, unfortunately the cases increased with no apparent reason. The possibility of a surgery to get rid of the roots was being discussed, still no cause of the sickness can be identified. Despite no proof of transmission via ill to ill quarantine was encourage. The world appears to stop.

Duckburg was not exempt from the struggles of the illness. Even the most influent people and scientist of this city were involved. Scrooge and his team, no mattering that their areas of expertise weren´t the best for this problem, tried to aid nonetheless.

The work in the lab followed as normal, taking into consideration some safety measures; the staff was minimal so the risk looked minimal. To Fenton´s fortune the relationship with his boss got a lot better in the last year, he´s optimistic he would survive their time together and conserve most of his sanity, it´s not a secret Gyro´s not the friendliest individual. Manny was also present in the lab, at least they would make each other company to avoid going crazy. Maybe the duck exaggerates, sure he is worried about the illness and wish to do something, he cannot help but worrying about the isolation.

Gyro focused all his attention on the updates. Sure his reputation as a competent person/scientist has been stained due to his past, beside that he would try to put an effort in this situation. He is more than his past failures, who would have thought therapy worked? It didn’t do miracles though; he still had anger issues and problems with his emotions. Because of this coexisting along his workmates sometimes was difficult for him.

When work wasn´t stepping on their toes they could have some free time. Fenton talked a lot certainly, the chicken got used after a while, as annoying as he could be he was –mostly- smart. Eating lunch together became a tradition, Manny didn’t join them often, just the two alone getting their mind out of the tragedy. Other people would describe Gyro as a jerk, overall it was the reason his social life only consisted of his family, mostly his father. However the duck was so patient with him, he wanted to spend time with him, he even admired him, and without a doubt their friendship was begging to flourish (no pun intended).

A year had passed before the catalyst of the disease was discovered. No one could believe that the answer they were looking for came from the wacky inventor Doctor Gyro Gearloose. The scientist discovered a correlation between the emotional distressed provoked by romantic feelings and the start of the symptoms. His hypothesis back up with the psychological information of patients, and unfortunately for him, supported also by his own experience.

Quarantine was executed properly and no other worker on Mc Duck enterprise showed any signs of the sickness. Contact with infected pre-lockdown was discarded as to more than six months went incident free; no relatives of the workers presented any symptoms either. Notorious signs of the disease manifested approximately three months ago, as Gyro noted, it all began with an itchy throat. Hiding the development of the disease was controversial, with the health of his associates at risk but it was the ultimate trial to prove its transmission.

The closer he got with his work acquaintance and friend Fenton matched with the development of his illness somehow. If the affliction began before the three month mark he wasn´t aware, he could have had dismissed early signals. Watching his coworker with other eyes passed from an embarrassing possibility he wanted to leave aside to a violent cough that expulsed purple petals covered in blood. His loss of breath wasn´t proof of his need to book another session with his therapist to talk about his feelings, it was actually the roots of the flowers growing in his lungs.