#thank you second arc of the fall for that

[hazbinshusk]

Coukd you do Kiss number 19 with Blitzo please? That generally seemed like an interesting one!

prompt #19: a kiss underwater

There are plenty of sights you see on a mission, so often that you tend to take them in stride. Violence, gore, Blitzø thrusting his crotch mockingly towards whoever the target is. What you weren’t expecting was a booby-trapped fortress of doomsday preppers making your job way harder than it needed to be.

Jumping over one of the countless trip wires, you toss a bola towards the fleeing prepper with precision that would’ve made Moxxie proud if he hadn’t been too busy trying to find the actual target. The bola wound itself around their ankles and sent them crashing to the floor with a yelp. There was a crunching sound and a groan – but you were sure they’d agree a broken nose was better than a bullet to the brain. Blitzø didn’t really sweat the collateral damage, but the client had insisted that you only take out the one actually responsible for their death.

Skipping down to the end of the hall, you jump over their body and your tail catches hold of a door handle. You use the grip to swing yourself around in a wide arc and you continue down the corridor without breaking stride. You can hear the others further ahead, and you skid to a holt as you find yourself face to face with an indoor water reservoir. Moxxie and Millie have the target cornered…

Well, they have them in the room.

The prepper is wielding on hell of a gun, and you barely manage to dive behind the same load-bearing pillar Millie has ducked behind. She grabs hold of your arm and pulls you into her side, casting a glance around the corner towards the target.

“He ain’t firin’ ‘cause these are load-barin’ pillars.” she explains breathlessly. “But he’s got a lotta friends here we haven’t taken out yet.”

“Right,” you frown, watching Moxxie try and fail to line up a shot. The prepper fires a warning shot – giving Moxxie and the pillar a wide enough berth to avoid actually taking it down. Still, it blasts through the wall behind the three of you, rocking the room in a way that makes your stomach twist. “And Blitz is…?”

There’s a crash and a familiar shout of “Fuuuuck!” and you turn just in time to watch the air vents above the prepper collapse in twisted metal and dust, a flash of red skin and black leather falling down on top of them.

You and Millie burst into laughter as Blitzø rides the prepper’s shoulders like they’re a mechanical bull, his claws digging into the flesh of their face before he digs his gun out of his holster and cracks them over the head with the butt of it.

The prepper collapses like a puppet with its strings cut, and you barely manage to catch Blitzø’s victorious grin in the second before the two of them land in the reservoir with a splash.

You’re still laughing as the three of you emerge from behind the pillars, and you fold your arms across your chest as Moxxie wraps an arm around Millie’s waist and presses a kiss to her temple. Your laughter tapers off slowly, your brow furrowing as you watch the water still.

“Does, uh… does Blitz know how to swim?”

M&M sober too, and Moxxie takes an uncertain step forward, eying the water’s surface. “I mean, surely…”

You sigh heavily, quickly toeing off your shoes and shrugging out of your jacket. “Satan… damn it.”

Inhaling deeply, you sprint to the edge of the reservoir and dive, the shock of the icy water almost knocking the air right back out of you. The dive takes you deep, and you find yourself thanking whoever’s listening for the fact that you’d taken your Envy Ring ex up on their offer to teach you to swim. The glow of your eyes breaks through the ink-black around you and you manage to catch the subtle glint of the gun still clutched in your boss’ hand below you.

Kicking yourself down towards him, your hand catches hold of the lapel of his coat, fingers burning with the cold of the water. Blitzø’s eyes open as he feels your touch, his gaze blurred and unfocused as the last of his hair leaves his lungs in a stream of bubbles. His hands clutch at your arms in panic, and you haul him up towards you, and press your lips to his.

Blitzø’s eyes widen in surprise and you part your mouth, breathing air into his mouth. His hands relax slightly and you kick hard, pulling him up with you, wrapping your tail around his waist. Your lungs are burning painfully as you near the surface, your jaw gritted and your muscles straining as they drag up your water-logged bodies. The two of you break the surface with twin gasps, and you feel hands grab hold of you and tug you towards the reservoir’s edge.

Blitzø doesn’t release you even as Millie and Moxxie hold the two of you up; he presses his face into the curve of your neck, his breathing laboured. He chokes out a laugh, and you punch his shoulder.

“Ow! The fuck was that for?!”

“Asshole!” you snarl breathlessly. “What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Me?” Blitzø gasps, breaking off into a coughing fit. He spits up water, gasping. “You’re the one who kissed me!”

Moxxie and Millie interject in unison. “You what?”

“I gave you air!” you argue defensively. “I saved your life, idiot!”

“Yeah, you did!” Blitzø grins widely, and he leans in to smack a kiss obnoxiously against your cheek. “Someone’s anglin’ for Employee of the Month!”

“Ugh!” you push him away with a scoff, holding back a smile as Moxxie helps you out of the water. Blitzø manages to swat your ass as you do, and you immediately unwind your tail from his waist so he collapses back into the water with a yelp. It’s only Millie’s hand on his arm that stops him from going under again, and he scowls up at you petulantly from under dripping brows. You blow him a kiss mockingly, bending down to scoop up your jacket and fishing your phone out of the pocket. “Now can we go home, please?”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[valenshawke]

In Defense of Caitlyn Kiramman

No, this is not a defense of any of her actions or decisions she made after she donned the beret. This is a defense of the writing of her character and what (I believe) the writers are trying to do. With only one act down, there’s many ways the writers can take this. They could very well fumble it. However, I will give the writers the benefit of the doubt. With that out of the way…

The descent into darkness and the corruption arcs are classic storytelling. Where the protagonist, hit with so many traumas and setbacks, gives into her darker feelings, sometimes aided by a more devious figure in the background.

Given all the traumas that Caitlyn has experienced as explained by @bramblebeau, something was going to happen. Without Ambessa Medarda being that devious figure, would Caitlyn have gone full authoritarian at the end of episode 3? Maybe. I still think she would have, but perhaps not as far. But to argue that this is bad storytelling because Caitlyn did not keep her idealism and morality is… horrible missing the point. 

What are the points? When faced with trauma and the desire to retaliate and seek revenge, it is very easy to manipulate those who want those two things. And, in the world we actually live in, we have seen this time and again. Need I bring up the US War on Terror? Whether directly or indirectly, the cultural impact of the 9/11 Attacks, second Iraq War, and the US War on Terror has been and will continue to do so (and if you want a less subtle commentary on that, check out Naoki Urasawa’s Pluto also on Netflix). 

Ambessa Medarda not only manipulating Caitlyn, but the Piltover Elite, was masterful because it showed how easy it is when you can control the flow of information, control the rhetoric, and eventually dehumanize your “enemy” as something less than human. It’ll be fascinating to hear how Caitlyn’s speech changes and what type of language she uses when talking about Zaun.

At this point, we don’t know exactly what the writers are going to do. But it does raise some intriguing and exciting questions from a storytelling perspective. Caitlyn, right now, is at the edge of (the heart) of darkness. Is her blood-lust for revenge going to cause her to fall in? Will someone be able to talk sense into her? Can anyone in Piltover talk any sense into her? How, if at all, can Vi be the one to help/save her? Or will they save each other? How can Vi be that tiny light in the darkness when she has her own trauma to deal with? (There’s another point to examine how both dealt with the trauma by the end of Act 1. Vi went inward and, based on the trailers, went full self-destructive mode. Caitllyn went outward and became the public face of a fascist regime). 

Caitlyn already started taking steps to that darkness after she got the Kiramman key and decided that GASSING ZAUN (and all the implications THAT brings)  was the best option for her strike team to open its mission to capture Jinx, dismantle shimmer, neutralize any agents loyal to Silco. Whatever justification given, especially by Vi, is naive at best and delusional at worst. Vi might have gone along simply because she feels some blame and wants to support Caitlyn. But what Caitlyn did was unjustifiable. The moment you simply accept “collateral damage” as simply being a Tuesday, your moral dipstick is bone dry (credits to Fox Mulder for that one). But that isn’t bad storytelling. I’m supposed to feel that way.

Caitlyn’s descent, as it stands, allows the writer to either give her something of a redemption arc where she realizes the horrors of what she has done and what has to be done to fix it. 

This is classic storytelling 101.

And I am fucking here for it.

Thanks to @caitlyn-kirammans for listening to me ramble this out first.

[mxtxfanatic]

I know I'm kinda late but Happy Birthday month !!!🎉🎉🎉🎉

I was wondering if you wanted to talk about the parallels between A-Qing and Wei Wuxian in the Yi city arc ?

💜

Thank you! As long as it’s November, it’s never too late 💝

I kind of compared them in this wwx bday meta, but I didn’t get too deep into the parallel. While I said that A-Qing represents Wei Wuxian’s adaptability and unwillingness to passively accept evil simply because it’s cloaked in civility, I would like to highlight here another shared trait: their tenacity towards doing the right thing.

A-Qing is in a position of powerlessness in the trio due to her lack of cultivation skills and cultivation world knowledge, similar to how Wei Wuxian is made powerless—despite being a part of the cultivation world—by his lack of status and faithful allies. Yet despite this, both characters thrive in their environments and use their situationally-acquired skills to protect those around them. A-Qing did not have to stay with Xiao Xingchen, especially after Xue Yang came along, but her own sense of morality made her stick around to ensure Xiao Xingchen’s safety, something she was only able to do by feigning blindness. Even when she fails, she, Xiao Xingchen, and Song Lan die, and Xiao Xingchen’s spirit disperses, she uses the last moments of her life to doggedly seek help. After dying, she uses the entirety of her afterlife to scare ignorant strangers away from Yi City (mind you, she didn’t even die there. She made her spirit go back) and try to find ways to stop Xue Yang. Even at the risk of destroying her soul, she goes against Xue Yang to the very end, no regrets in any of her actions.

In the same way that A-Qing used her “blindness” as a shield, Wei Wuxian weaponized the cultivation world’s fears of him first to protect the sovereignty of the newly rebuilt Jiang then to protect the Wen remnants liberated from the Qiongqi Path labor camp. When he was still schemed against and the Wen siblings told him of their plan to turn themselves in, he still never thought to abandon them or let the punishment fall on anyone else’s shoulders, just as A-Qing refused to abandon Xiao Xingchen. After his resurrection, Wei Wuxian still goes out of his way to rescue and protect the junior cultivators, entering back into the lion’s den of the cultivation world for no benefit of his own just to continue to help others, in the exact same way that A-Qing went back to Yi City to guard against passersby wandering in to their deaths. And just like with A-Qing, at no point in time does he regret having rescued the Wen in his first life or having endangered himself in his second life to protect the juniors (or later their bloodthirsty parents).

Even though they faced negative consequences for following their morality to the bitter end (and even beyond), even if the people they wanted to protect were still murdered before their eyes, their reputations tarnished and legacies buried, at no point do either A-Qing or Wei Wuxian stray from their course nor regret their actions. This is their shared tenacity. There’s a reason, after all, that Wei Wuxian experiences the Yi City arc as her.

[another-lost-mc]

Some fallen angels that change their name and count their cursed blessings when no one in the Devildom seems to care who they used to be.

Other fallen angels wish they could forge a brand new identity for themselves but can’t because they’re too recognizable to go unnoticed in the Devildom.

Fallen angels that observe demons and their chaotic whims with a sneer, as if they’re still from another world entirely.

Fallen angels that still write in scripture out of habit and speak the Celestial Realm’s language just to annoy the demons nearby that can’t understand them.

Fallen angels that attend RAD the first year it opens, hopelessly overwhelmed by most subjects but smirk at the easy 100% scrawled across every test or assignment involving Celestial Realm history.

Fallen angels that talk about the past like the Devildom is some temporary detour and for the longest time, they have to remind themselves that that place isn’t their home anymore.

[safyresky]

Warm Milk

(remember this poll? I sure did! This is the original shit I was talking about! Takes place a couple of hundreds of years after the events of Crystal Springs, Into the Shadows, etc. Some context: The dimensions between planes are thinning. Rosehaven is seeping into the living world, magibeans long dead returning to the world of the living—but for what purpose? Not even they know...)

(enjoy!)

___

Bianca padded down the stairs quietly. Eyes attuned to the dark, she trailed her fingers along the side table in the hall, gazing at the photos dotted about. Even in the lowlight, she could see how happy her daughter was in the photos she was in (laughing with Blaise, a little Jacqueline grinning in the bottom right, pointing; face pressed against those of the twins, the three of them grinning). And the ones she wasn't in (one of the twins stacked on one another, running down a beach; a candid shot of father and son caught up in a moment of laughter), Bianca could feel the love radiating from the photos.

She smiled to herself, continuing quietly down the hall. Every single bone and muscle creaked as she walked.

Bianca sighed, rubbing her lower back. I never thought I'd say this, but I do miss being dead, she thought to herself.

In Rosehaven, you didn't feel all the creaks of your bones and muscle pains and such. You felt fine. Safe. Okay. As young as you ever felt. As spry as Winter (senior) had been, despite looking as old as Bianca felt. Your body is there with you but it doesn’t age or degrade. You’re right as a flurry.

But back on this plane of existence…you felt it all and then some.

She sighed, turning into the kitchen. A light glowed above the sink. The dishes sat drying in the rack. A window was open, the sound of the wind rushing through the evergreen boroughs comforting. It was no mountain, but it was lovely regardless. It would do.

Quietly, she slid across the kitchen, pouring a glass of milk and staring at the contraption that supposedly warmed things with the click of a button. She squinted at it, rubbing her chin.

Perhaps she should wake her son-in-law? Or the grandkids? That is, the fiery ones, of course. It would be far easier for her to have them hold it for a moment rather than make the ruckus the. Contraption. Was sure to make.

She found the button to open the door. It went in with a deep crunch, the door swinging open with a loud bang that reverberated through the thing.

"Oh dear."

Straining her ears, she listened closely, hoping she hadn’t woken anyone.

Snores from upstairs. The wind. A soft voice? Murmuring?

Her ear twitched. She turned slightly, towards the right.

Her eyes readjusted. The table was empty; backyard door locked. The screen door, that is. The heavy door had been pulled all the way back, letting in the cold winter air. It smelt like the mountains.

Bianca made her way over, relishing in the breeze for a moment.

The voice was clearer now. She peeked outside; nothing and no one. Eyes travelling across the table, she peered into the cozy den.

A light was on.

Her ear twitched.

"AND he let me use his HAMMER MOMMA! The HAMMER!" said a delightful voice. Just hearing it made Bianca feel such joy. She crept closer to the den, head tilted towards the sounds.

"The HAMMER?!"

It was Jacqueline who was speaking now. Excited with a hint of panic. A tone Bianca found herself recognizing easily enough.

"YEAH! Hephaestus says I'm gonna make my own bow in NO TIME!"

"That's wonderful, sweetie!" Jacqueline replied, the smile in her voice loud.

"She's been taking to the change very well," a third voice said. Smooth and chipper, a hint of tired—but not quite. Hearing this voice made Bianca think of her Winter, wherever he may be.

Her heart panged.

"That's good! I'm glad," Jacqueline sounded relieved. "I'm really sorry about all this, love."

"It's okay! I'm just glad you're safe! We understand, don’t we, Joy?"

"Yeah! Safety is important! I learnt that today too," the child’s voice grew quiet, sounding proper chided.

"Did you now?"

"…yeah. I accidentally hit Hermes with a few arrows. He was a real good sport about it but I felt very bad and then Mater gave me the safety talk."

"We really should have done it sooner," the third voice spoke again.

"But! Better now than later, after she finds the lightning bolts! She was giving them the eyes earlier today."

Mater. Bianca ran the word through her mind. Greek, if she wasn't mistaken. For mother.

Jacqueline threw a hand up to her mouth, trying to mask her laughter. “Oh dear.”

This is wrong, Bianca, she thought to herself. Stepping back (having made her way to the arched entrance, lurking in the shadows), she walked towards the kitchen entrance, clearing her throat before reaching the den entrance again and knocking on the sideboard.

"Jacqueline?" she asked, peeking into the room.

He granddaughter shot up, pillows flying. "Oh! Hi Bianca. Everything okay?"

"I fear I've run into a problem. The contraption that heats things up? The little one."

"The microwave?"

She nodded. "How do you use it?"

"I'll be right with you. Just give me one sec!"

"Certainly. I'll wait in the kitchen." Bowing her head, Bianca backed up, keeping to the shadows between the two entrances.

The sprite curled back up, bringing the phone right up to her nose. The little display glowed, casting a dim light onto her face. The snow was gone from her hair, Bianca noted.

"Is that her?"

"Yeah. Technology problem."

There was a delightful giggle. "Off you go to save the day! My hero. I miss you.”

"We both do, Momma!”

Jacqueline smiled. “Awh. I miss you guys too.”

“I knew it!”

The loving voice laughed. “Alrighty, Joy. Say bye to Momma. She’s got a something cold to save.”

Jacqueline laughed. “It looked like it was a glass of milk.”

“She’s got a glass of cold milk to save!”

"Okay! I love you Momma!" the child's voice was filled with so much joy, Bianca could not keep back the smile that had snuck onto her face. It was hurting her cheeks. "I miss you! I hope I get to see you soon. I got a sword lesson and I wanna make one with you."

"Awwh, Joy! That's so sweet! I'll brush up on the blacksmithing just for you, okay?"

"Okay! I love you! KISSES! MWAH!"

"KISSES! MWAH! I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay! Bye Momma."

“Right, off you go! Go bug your grandad for a bit.”

“O-kay! Wee!”

Jacqueline laughed, watching the child run off, Bianca presumed. She pushed her hair off her brow, snuggling into the couch cushion. "She's doing okay?"

"She’s thriving! And wreaking so much havoc. That’s why we’re on Olympus now. Jupiter had enough so we’re hanging out with my mater’s side. Oh, Jacqueline, you’d be so proud! I know I am. She’s a hit over here!”

“Good! Good. I’m...glad.” Jacqueline’s smile dropped. She sighed, mussing her hair once more. “I’m so sorry about all this, Donnie.”

"Awh, babe, it's okay! You’re trying to keep us safe. We understand."

"I'll try to swing by tomorrow? If that's okay."

"Uh, duh! You're my WIFE! Why wouldn’t that be okay? I love you. I always want to see you.”

"And I you," Jacqueline smiled. "I'll see you soon, brown eyes."

"Not if I see you first, blue eyes."

Bianca tuned out, giving them space. Moments later, the blankets rustled.

"I know you’re still there, Bianca.”

Bianca felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She turned the corner sheepishly. “Sorry dear.”

Jacqueline smiled, leaning her head on the couch. "S’okay.” She pat the spot beside her with a slippered foot. “Come sit!"

Bianca obliged, sinking onto the couch. Her muscles thanked her. She sighed, falling back into the cushions.

"I miss being dead.”

"You WHAT?"

"Oh, sorry, Jacqueline. Sit back! I don’t mean it in a way that's concerning. I just…forgot how old and stiff my body was. I miss not feeling every single muscle every time I move."

"And warm milk helps with that?"

"Hmm? Oh!" she looked down at her glass of not warm milk. "Yes and no. It doesn't help my muscles. It helps my heart, though. Your grandfather said it was the cure for any ailment," she smiled fondly. "Lately I've been finding comfort in a warm glass of milk. It makes me think of him. But alas, your father went to bed before I could catch him and Lady only knows what would happen were I to wake your siblings."

"When they were younger, disasters! But now that they're older, they sleep like logs, for the most part. Just waking them up would be an impressive feat on its own!”

Bianca chuckled.

"You miss him, huh?"

"I do. And I worry for him," she admitted, bringing a fist up to her heart. "I don’t know where he is, or what he's doing. I know he's on this plane. But I can't…find him. And it hurts. Everything hurts. He'd love to see this. Knowing that your mother made a lovely life for herself? He'd be delighted! She found a love as true as ours," Bianca smiled down at her hands. "That's all we ever wanted for her. And I was so terrible! Afflicting you with the shard and sending you halfway across the world. Stealing her away from her family to try and bring back mine…and even after everything, you've all welcomed me here."

"Bianca. I gotta be real with you. In terms of blood relatives coming back from the far past? You're not the craziest we've seen."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Uncle Pyros is like, fifty shades of messed up. That guy is WHACK. But don’t tell dad I said that."

"Your secret is safe with me." Bianca sighed. "Those poor boys. I always hated being called to court. They never looked happy. Serafina was so strict; and Canicus was just as bad in other ways. I kept telling your grandfather, I said, you know, Winter, we could just snatch them up and take them home! And he'd say, he'd say, Bianca, we have our hands full with one, don't you think? Best not bring back old habits." she laughed. "We didn't, really. Your mother was a very calm child. Well. She was a child when we left; I've no idea how she was in later years, or for the rest of childhood."

Looking off into the distance, Bianca sighed.

"Well…from what I've heard, she's where we get most of our unhinged ideas from. The most chaotic of all the seasons as a kid. Still is to this day, if you ask my aunts."

"Oh, how delightful!" Bianca leaned back into the cushions, a soft smile on her face. "It's nice to see them both happy together. Your parents, that is."

"Makes you miss your hubby, huh?"

"We never did tie the knot, but yes! It does. Deeply. Achingly so, even.”

"I get it," Jacqueline wiggled against the couch, getting cozier. "I miss my wife."

That fond, loving smile was back on her face; so small and yet, filled with so much emotion.

"We did actually tie the knot. I mean, we were already referring to one another like that so we went, you know what? Frost it! May as well make it official! And then we did!" She shrugged. "The proposal went a little awry, but the wedding was nice! Especially since we found out we had a KID beforehand! Can you believe that? A whole entire KID. She was totally unplanned and I love her so much.”

“Oh, and I took you away from them, didn't I?"

Jacqueline nodded. "And I couldn't even remember them, because, you know, your mirror does that fun thing where it only makes you think of bad and sad thoughts? They were so fuzzy.”

Jacqueline smiled. "Magical objects just bring out the worst in people."

"I'm so sorry, Jacqueline. Really. I would never want to take anyone away from their families. That was a pain I'll never forget. Pain enough that it drove me to do that to you and your mother when I was shard-ed, just to try and restore my own."

"Indeed."

"Why do you even HAVE that mirror?"

"Cursed artifact that came into my possession when I was young. It splinters often, and the splinters get caught up all over the place, making people see only terrible, awful things. I used it in my younger years to do some truly bad things. Much younger, of course; I haven't been that bad since meeting your grandfather. I was glad it had come with me to Rosehaven. It wouldn't cause trouble ever again, I thought.” She chuckled coldly. “I thought wrong. Seems that was the worst place for it."

She opened her hands. The mirror appeared in them, empty but for two shards.

She sighed.

A warm hand landed on her knee. Bianca looked up.

Jacqueline was smiling at her, softly. Reassuringly. "We'll find him, and we'll find the shards.” She gave her knee a little squeeze. “I know you miss him. I miss my partner in crime, too! And I know you missed mom.”

"I'm glad to get to know her again. Odd to say but. Well."

"I kinda get it." Jacqueline pulled herself up a smidgen, phone clutched close to her chest. "Donnie and I had no idea Joy existed for about three years. She was born from the joy we both felt being reunited again after the proposal. I missed her baby years! Had no idea what she was like until recently."

"Hmm. I feel we have a lot more in common than just looks," Bianca mused.

"Indeed," Jacqueline replied, in an almost dead-on impersonation of Bianca's own accent.

She laughed. "I'm sorry I took you away from your wife and child. And still am, evidently."

Jacqueline shrugged. "This whole Rosehaven thing is weird. Scary, too. And after everything that happened to me? I don’t want to risk Joy. Or Donnie. She can handle herself of course, but I love her! I don’t want to see her get hurt. That's why I didn't mention them. I wasn't sure if you were…"

"Safe."

"Yeah.

"Wise. My reputation is. Quite terrible, really. Especially with children."

"Yeah, maybe gramps was onto something when he said not to bring back old habits."

Bianca laughed, looking at her granddaughter with a fond smile. "I'm glad you've found love, too."

Jacqueline scooched over the pillows, leaning up against Bianca. She put her phone in front of them, the screen blinking to life to reveal a photo.

There was a very tall, very strong woman. She was blonde, her hair tied up, laurels wrapped in the strands. She was beautiful. Jacqueline stood beside her. And between them, a small child, a tad darker than Jacqueline and a tad lighter than the woman. She grinned, a tooth missing, her strawberry blonde (emphasis on the strawberry) hair pulled up as well, falling right out of the scrunchie. Behind them was a big, feathery wing; and behind the girl was a smaller set of wings, looking more like butterflies than birds.

"That's the love of my life, Donnie. It’s short for Hedone."

"Hedone. That’s the Greek Pantheon…Goddess of…pleasure?"

Jacqueline flushed, nodding.

Bianca smiled. "And that's your little girl?"

"Joy. Embodiment of Joy. She's everything to me, goddess of the springs. The moment I met her, I was like, damn. I'd do ANYTHING for this kid. ANYTHING."

"I felt the same when your mother was born."

"Was she like, sick, or something?"

"Sick?"

"It's just," Jacqueline shifted, facing her grandmother with a look of placid curiosity. "I've heard that when she was born, there was something wrong? Or off, or something. I’ve only heard it offhand oh, once or twice. Nobody's ever explained it to me, and Mom doesn't even remember. So. I figured, you know, who better to ask than the person who birthed her, right?"

"Ah. Well, she wasn't sick. She was a miracle baby, though. See, I'd always wanted kids of my own. But I'd never managed to settle down with someone and have them."

"So you stole them instead?"

"Yes. And I used the mirror to do so. It's an ugly thing; it fell into my possession when I was quite young. It takes the beauty and love out of everything and makes you see only the bad. As you are, regrettably, well aware."

"You as well."

Bianca hummed. "When I finally did succeed, and the little boy's little friend came and found him, and saved him, I managed to cry the shard out of my eyes. And that's how Queen Frost found me. A pathetic, weeping mess in the highest reaches of the Nordic countries. She told me that I would find what I needed here in Crystal Springs; that it would heal the hurt. That I'd be safe. And…I was. But the hurt never left. See, the shard in my heart stayed put. And whenever a child would come near my domain, I'd keep them as long as I could, just to try and thaw my icy little heart."

"Oh. That's…how am I both heartbroken and appalled?"

"I am a woman of many talents, it would seem.” Bianca laughed, the laughter trailing off with a small exhale. “It's messy, I know. And it got messier still. Nothing worked. I was devastated; stayed up in the mountains with my storms and my lands and all that nonsense. I was there for eons…until your Grandfather entered my life."

Jacqueline watched as Bianca softened, her face lighting up. The mirror seemed to shudder; it did not like where her memories were going. It disappeared as she looked away, awash in them.

"Was it love at first sight?"

"Ha! No. I thought him annoying and irritating and all but blew him right off my mountain. But he was like one of your brother's stray animals. He just kept coming right back! One day, I found myself not blowing him off the mountain. And then I looked forward to his visits. And then I told him about the mirror and everything and he helped me gather the pieces and seal it away. And we fell in love, and one thing led to another and we found ourselves expecting. In the traditional way. By ordibeing standards, of course."

"Oh! So Mom was the first sprite to be born instead of made?"

"Yes, and no. It was the first any pair of sprites had managed to conceive a child on purpose. Emphasis on the on purpose. The only example they had to go off of was Fate-touched, so they had no idea how reliable that experience would be compared to this one.”

“That experience being?”

“The Twin Princes.”

“Oh! I didn’t know that! I just assumed they were made the way all sprites used to be made, you know?”

“The King and Queen tried, of course. Fate prevented it from happening like that. But it worked the other way.” Bianca shrugged. “Serafina was a rather clever warlock. She knew exactly what needed doing for a safe delivery and all, and got it done well before they were born. But your grandfather and I...”

“Would’ve had no idea, since it’s not like the monarchy shared these sorts of things. And given how sprites were made, it was probably to them like, one and done kinda deal, I’d bet. They assumed it would never happen like that again.”

“Ha! And your grandfather and I went and proved them wrong. They’d have hated that! They probably did.” She grinned. “At any rate, given the circumstances, healers monitored us closely; we didn't know what to expect. A sprite had never been formed like that naturally, you know. Lady only knew what would happen. But I tried very hard not to think about that. I focused on when I could feel her move about, and making a nursery, you know. All those things you do when you're expecting."

"I don’t know if I'd know that! We uh. We were NOT expecting at ALL when Joy showed up, dragging Jack Frostbitten Frost himself and Venus, goddess of frostbitten love, behind her, the three of them being pursued by the personifications of Despair and Sadness."

"Oh my."

"I know! I'd have loved to paint a nursery or have that whole build up to her arrival, but it was very sudden and violent.” She looked sheepish for a moment, running her hand through her hair and looking away. “I was very violent."

"Momma bear energy, yes?"

"Oh, big time. The moment Jack told me who she was and it all clicked and that connection was there, I just. I lost it. She's the personification of Joy, Bianca. Despair and Sadness wanted to consume her essence in the hopes that they'd feel something other than what they are."

"Oh. So you had a breakdown."

"Huge. I went feral. And in the end, as seems to be the case with this family, it was a hug that did it; Joy defeated Sadness and Despair with a hug."

"What an impressive child."

"She's so impressive. And she did that as a three-year-old. Which is HELLA impressive by sprite standards. Though she didn't quite age like a sprite? She is now, but she was aging like a human almost until she hit six. Regular six. Not six hundred."

"How old is she now?"

"Almost one hundred! I'm kinda relieved she seems to be taking after the celestial side more than the sprite side. I'm not sure I'm prepared for a century of trying to help her keep shape, followed IMMEDIATELY by a century of her keeping shape AND being a terror about it."

Bianca laughed. "The terrible two-hundreds."

"Mm. Mom and Dad say all four of us were pretty brutal, so I'm sure my kids will be no different. Sorry, I got so off topic. We were talking about Mom!"

"And then went into moms territory. Not off topic at all, sweetheart."

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!"

Bianca laughed. "All right, all right. You don’t need to lose shape about it."

Jacqueline pulled a face. She lifted a hand, the entire thing AND her arm suddenly turning into snow as she tilted her head, crossed her eyes and went "BLARGH!"

Bianca wheezed. "Okay! I'm going! Pull yourself together, young lady!"

Cackling, Jacqueline's arm solidified. She curled up, snuggling back into the couch. "Okay. I'm behaving."

"You know, I don’t think you ever have."

"That's because you've been talking to Jack too much. He likes to play it up like I was the most troublesome thing around, but he definitely made it ten times worse."

"Now that I believe."

She giggled, her small smile reminding Bianca very much of a time when Winter was a child. A time well before The Call, before the repeat of her past mistakes, and before she was cast from Rosehaven for Lady knows WHAT reason.

"Bianca? You okay?"

She cleared her throat. Swallowed the emotion. Nodded. "As fine as can be, all things considered."

"We can stop if it's too much. I didn't mean to press."

"Oh! No. It's quite all right. Big feelings are big feelings. It's best we experience them. Least we steal children about it."

Jacqueline giggled.

"Where did I leave off?"

"Nursery. Prep work. That sorta thing."

"Right. Well…the time came, eventually. She was ready to arrive. And arrive she did. As a pile of snow and ice. Baby shaped, but lifeless. I…I sobbed. I sobbed, and sobbed, Jacqueline. I was beside myself. I refused to let her go, and your grandfather, bless his soul, stood by my side the entire time, and did not try to take her away from me. He did his own research; called Mother Gaia and her daughter, Tara. They came by and brought with them a life light. The thing you are given as a freshly made sprite to give yourself a form. They gave it to us, and it turned white as snow, and your grandfather and I placed it within Winter and she came to life, with the loudest cries. Oh, I was so, so relieved."

"She was brought to life. That was the miracle."

Bianca nodded. "And she was full of life. Very silly, a little goofball just like her father. And devastatingly savage when needed, just like her mother. She was smart and keen and we loved her to bits! It broke my heart, what we did. To think, fighting to keep our home safe for our daughter ended up with us losing her. And now I have that chance again, to know her, to love her…but it's been thousands of years. Thousands. Tara is far more her mother than I ever was. And my darling Winter Warlock isn't here to see any of it." Eyes downcast, Bianca looked at the cold glass of milk in her hands and sighed.

"Oh, here! Let me get that for you."

"No need, Jacqueline dear. I've got it."

Both winter sprites jumped a bit as Winter herself stepped through the archway, cloak draped over her arms. She placed it gently on the egg chair by the entrance, wiping something off of her cheek and cleared her throat. "Here. I can take it. I'll show you how the microwave works."

"Oh, it's quite all right, dear. I'm not even sure I really want it anymore—"

"Yes you do," both women said, in unison, in the same tone of voice. They looked at one another, giggling a little bit.

"You miss your boo thang, Bianca! Of course you'd want to indulge in something that makes you think of him!"

"I wouldn't argue with her," Winter agreed, gently taking the glass of milk out of Bianca's hands. "She's married to Cupid's successor. And has been having many sweets for the exact same reason you find yourself craving a warm glass of milk."

"Ah. I'm out numbered, it appears."

"And outwitted! Come on, up you go. Here." Winter offered her an arm. Bianca took it with a grateful look, gently prying herself out of the cushions. "Let's get those limbs of yours all warmed up."

___

Bianca let her daughter lead her into the kitchen. She tried not to lean on her too terribly much, but the support was…nice. They made their way to the microwave, stopping in front of it.

"The big button here opens it." Winter clicked it; there was a crunch and a low thrum and the door popped open again, the little light flickering on. "Just place the glass inside and click start a handful of times."

"A handful?"

"The number keys are preset. The one warms it for one minute, the two for two, and so on and so forth. The start button does thirty seconds which is usually all I need. Though I will admit, I don’t often use this thing. Usually I bring it to Blaise."

Bianca smiled. "I'd do the same, were I you. I briefly thought about it, actually, but didn’t want to wake him. He seems so stressed about this all…and the younger two? Goddess above. I daresay whatever would happen after waking them would be enough to send us all back to Rosehaven."

Winter laughed. "Fino and Fiera certainly are characters. They were worse in their younger years. I'm inclined to say they've mellowed out at sixteen hundred, but I'm not entirely sure I believe that. I don't think any of the four of them are capable of mellowing out, if I'm being honest."

Bianca chuckled quietly, gently closing the microwave door shut and tapping the start button three times. The noise it made nearly shook her bones; her jaw was most certainly knocking about.

"Dear me."

"Yes, it's a little loud. And a little too fancy for my tastes. But Jack was very excited about it, as was Blaise. I figured I may as well let them have their fun."

Bianca smiled.

Winter smiled back.

The microwave hummed behind them as the silence pressed on. Comfortable, but with something unspoken lingering between them as the microwave continued to tick down the seconds.

"How long were you—"

Bianca did not get to finish her sentence. The words were cut very suddenly as Winter wrapped her arms around her torso and pulled her in, squishing her very, very tightly.

"Long enough," she said, muffled against Bianca's chest. "I'm sorry."

"No." Bianca wrapped her arms around her daughter, cupping the back of her head and tilting it towards her, kissing the very top of it. "I am."

"Goddess above, that sounded so awful, I—" Winter lifted her head, looking up at her mother. "I couldn't even imagine any of that happening to me and my kids. I'd be beside myself."

"I was. And still am. And even though this situation is so messed up…perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I'm glad. I'm glad to see you living, thriving—" she smiled, wiping the tears off of Winter's face with both her thumbs. "It's all we ever wanted for you."

"I'd be devastated if it were me, and Blaise wasn't by my side to see everything the kids have done."

Bianca's grip tightened. She laughed. "It hurts, yes. Oh, I love him so much. He was my everything. Is my everything. I—"

"WAIT, HOLD ON. GRANNY BEE."

Her breath hitched as Jacqueline came sliding out the den, phone in her hand, looking frantic in an excited way. She'd called Bianca Granny!

"Jacqueline, careful!" Winter let go of her mother and reached out, grabbing Jacqueline before she could fall forward. "You know the kitchen is slippery in those socks of yours."

"I know, I know! But I just! Granny Bee." She caught her breath. "Hey. Hi. Woah. You okay?"

She sniffled, wiping away tears. "YES. GRANNY BEE IS JUST FINE."

Winter and Jacqueline shared a look. "O-kay…listen. I got an idea. I just need to ask you a few questions."

"Sure. Sure. Certainly." Another sniffle. The microwave beeped. "How can I help?"

Winter opened the microwave, passing Bianca the warmed milk. She nodded her thanks, taking a sip as Jacqueline started explaining.

"My wife. She's Cupid. Well, next in line to be Cupid. Right. Anyway, uh, because of that, she's really good at love stuff??? So HERE'S the THING. Would you say that the Winter Warlock is the—"

"Love of my life? My soulmate in all senses of the word? Partner in crime? My person?"

Jacqueline blinked. "Yes."

"Yes. Oh, absolutely, yes. That man. He's. I just—" her fingers tightened on her glass as she tried and failed to find the words to describe their love.

But for Jacqueline, apparently, that was enough.

She grinned, feral, whipping up her phone. "I knew it. Okay, so, I have this crazy idea. I think I know how to find him."

"What?"

"You do?"

"Yeah!" She put the phone up to her ear. "If you're okay with it, Mom. I know things have been kinda tough? I don't want to throw the other parent at you when you and Granny B are still working sleet out."

"Oh! Yes! Of course! If you're comfortable with it, Winter dear."

Winter's brow furrowed as she thought about it for a moment. "Well. I think before I know how I feel about that, we'd have to see if we even can find him first. And then, given the state you were in, Bianca…what state he's in."

"And if he has a shard in his eye, or worse, his heart…I shudder to think what part he'd be playing in this mess."

"Oh?"

Bianca nodded. "He was a brilliant warlock! Is a brilliant warlock. His mind…I believe Fiera would call him a giant nerd. Given that, and how he was like back before he met me, before he met Kris, even…I both hope and fear that he knows more about what is going on than all of us."

"Then we better go frostbitten find him, eh? How do we feel about a ladies trip to Mount Olympus…"

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Aziraphale is doomed because of Good Omens naming conventions (prepare for pain)

Aziraphale’s (AKA Mr. Fell’s) name drives me insane because

Good Omens is so precise in its use of words (almost like it was a book first!) I didn’t know anathema was a word (yes, US education is dire, I know) which means “vehemently disliking” or, in the religious sense, excommunication

Anathema Device in Good Omens 1 is a witch (antithesis to the church,) yet is loved by Newton Pulsifier, who, based on their family histories, should hate and seek to destroy her

Her name being Anathema is a subversion of expectations; anathema should mean repulsive, tearing apart, unholy, and according to God’s plan, she is— but she really isn’t! She brings everyone together! Love wins!

Also…… Device. She’s a literal plot device

(Also Newton being a revered scientific figure VS Newt being woefully inept at computers— the ironing)

Aziraphale isn’t a real Biblical name, but one that sounds similar to actual scripture. His chosen human name is Mr. Fell because it sounds similar and is a real last name

Or

Aziraphale, despite everything over centuries, still takes Heaven’s side because he truly believes he can work within The Plan ™️ to save humanity and Crowley

He’s completely incapable of grasping why Crowley wouldn’t want to go back to being an angel (because, who wouldn’t?)

He loves Crowley because he sees the good in him, but also still sees Goodness and Heaven as inextricably intwined

What’s tearing him and Crowley apart isn’t their mutual desire (to be together forever,) but that Crowley wants them to be on “Their own side,” while Aziraphale wants Crowley to be on the side of Good and therefore Heaven

Aziraphale remembers Crowley’s joy as an angel and wants to take away the pain of his Fall. His biggest fears and motivations as a character are losing Crowley and Falling himself

He’s now in the highest position of power possible and it’s strongly indicated that he’s going to have to reckon with the Second Coming. He may have been able to get away with a bit of deviance before, but this was for centuries when he and Crowley flew under the radar. He keeps defying divine will and getting away with far more (that we know of) than Crowley ever did to Fall

So, considering Good Omens’ use of metaphor in names and how high in Heaven Aziraphale is now—

Is Mr. Fell going to Fall?

[mononijikayu]

say so — nanami kento.

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again.  Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him. “Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Post-Shibuya Arc, R-18, Smut, Fingering, P to V Sex, Passionate Sex, Pet Names (My Love, Baby), Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Jealousy, Teasing, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband, Nanami Kento is FATHER™️;

WORDS: 9.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: nanami won my poll again!!! hurray!!! here's tmi about this - thiis was half way finished when i came back to write it, but then i got sick again and i started writing this more differently than my direction. i got frustrated so i stopped for a while then i forgot about it and then i wanted to finish it.

oh, also kento and you speak danish at home, because you both feel like a secret language between you and him. gojo is also retired — thats going to be in us and them!!! thank you so much for waiting!!! thank you for reading too!!! i love you all !!! see you in the gojo fic (second place) <3

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next: little wonders

HE THOUGHT THAT HE WOULD ALWAYS BE NONCHALANT. Nanami Kento never thought he’d be the type to get jealous. After all, he prided himself on being calm and composed, grounded in logic.

But lately, things have changed. You had changed—or rather, something about you had. At least that’s what he noticed now that you’ve come back to Tokyo, so he could become a mentor to the kids with Gojo’s retirement. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Nanami Kento had finally left the endless grind of Jujutsu society, traded the blood and curses for a quiet life in Malaysia, far from the threat of battle.

But when he got that call, it felt like the past had come clawing back, unwilling to let him go. Itadori Yuji’s name on Gojo’s lips stirred something within him—something old, duty-bound, and unwilling to see an innocent youth, especially one with Yuji’s heart, left adrift.

Gojo Satoru's concern was about more than just Yuji, though. Nanami listened as the retired special grade sorcerer, sitting on a cruise across the globe, rattled off frustrations with the new leadership at Jujutsu High and Jujutsu society as a whole. All of it having formed with what he had known from his contacts back at hom.

At the center of it was Usami. That man, the strongest of all first class sorcerers, Usami, who never defied the higher-ups, who prioritized orders and tradition over compassion, whose unfeeling approach Gojo had seen all too often among those aligned with the elders.

Nanami Kento knew the type. They were the very people he’d worked so hard to avoid throughout his career, the type who saw Jujutsu sorcerers as tools more than as people, especially the students.

Now, with Gojo’s absence, Usami had stepped into a more central role at Jujutsu High, and Gojo wasn’t comfortable with it. Why would he? He’s still supporting the remaining conservative factions in Jujutsu High.

There was no other way to feel about it other than this, but concern. The return of a conservative faction, under Gakuganji, would stifle Gojo’s gambles these past few years. Gambles Kento had agreed with, even if not wholeheartedly. 

“I don’t want him making decisions for my students, you know? I’m sure you agree about that with me too.” Gojo said bluntly, his tone carrying the usual lazy confidence but undercut by a genuine concern. “They’ve been through enough. They deserve someone who understands them.” 

Kento could hear Gojo's frustration; it was an unusual tone in the voice of someone who otherwise seemed to brush off his troubles. And in that sentiment, Nanami found himself nodding in agreement. It didn’t sit well with him, either. But what could he do? He is retired now, isn't he? There was no need for this chatter.

Gojo, as though reading his hesitation, chuckled knowingly over the line. “Look, I’m technically retired too, Nanami. I know your feelings about this.” he said with that familiar cheek in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t meddle. Keeps me busy as I get old, you know? Gojo clan head is empty without any drama.” 

There was a pause, and Kento didn’t know what to say. Gojo Satoru, even in their younger years, used his status to continue to advocate for his interests. And Kento didn’t like it as much, he was someone who liked rules, after all.

Even if he agreed with them, he thinks about the context of propriety. But he knows the soul of Gojo’s argument. He agrees with that. Gojo’s voice softened on the other line.

“Don’t you ever want to keep busy too? I mean, especially when your wife’s at her job? You’re both still in the thick of it, in your own ways. Being a house husband doesn’t always satisfy the itch. Before you rebuttal, you know I’m not lying. ”

Nanami sighed. Gojo’s words struck a nerve. He’s not wrong. Genmei–san also works still, helping out at temples when she has the time. Most of the time, if they weren’t on holiday, it would be Gojo waiting at home and taking care of their children. For a moment, Nanami sat down to think about it properly. 

You were deeply invested in your work as a novelist. You adore it, you truly do. But often, it’s hard for you to deal with. You were just as much an independent person in your own right and that was your own mission, your own purpose.

He admired you for that, but there were times when he found himself wondering about his place. He adores taking care of you, he adores being by your side all the time. He adores being your house–husband. 

But he often questions, besides that, away from the frontline, away from Jujutsu, what was his purpose now? Was he truly content to let the world of sorcery continue without him, even if it meant leaving those like Yuji to struggle without guidance? Or the kids? What can he do for them? What can he do now?

“Fine, Gojo.” Nanami finally muttered. “I’ll look into it. Just… don’t get used to this.” He could practically hear Gojo’s grin over the line, a smug sort of satisfaction that Nanami knew all too well.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Gojo replied smoothly in response. “But I’ll admit, it’s good to have you back, even if just for a little while.”

And so, he tried to muster the courage to tell you about what he had agreed to. Dinner was a warm, familiar ritual together. And by the beachside in Kuantan, everything about it was a wonder to behold.

The sounds of clinking plates and gentle conversation filled the room, and the two of you settled into the ease of being home together, savoring the evening without the rush of tomorrow hanging over you. 

You were halfway through telling him about something small that had happened during your day at the market when he cleared his throat, a subtle shift in his usual, deliberate movements. His fingers, wrapped around his glass, seemed to tighten slightly. You looked at him a little bit confused. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, my love.” he began, meeting your gaze with a calm determination. "I’ve decided… to return to Tokyo." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before he continued. "Jujutsu High needs someone to look after the first years. With Gojo retired, things are… in flux."

You blinked, feeling a jolt of surprise, but before you could fully react, he was already explaining, his tone quickening just a touch, as if he’d anticipated your questions. It was rare for your husband to be this way, to ramble about and have his bright brown eyes shake as he looked at you with a shaken uncertainty. But you know when he becomes this way, it’s because of things he cares about.

“It’s not active service, don’t worry about that, my love.” he assured, almost hurriedly, his hand drifting toward yours in an unspoken promise. “I’m not heading back into the field. It’s only to mentor the kids, give them someone they can rely on. They deserve that, especially now.”

You saw his resolve deepen as he spoke of them, the younger students who’d become like family over the years. His voice softened, and you could tell this wasn’t just about filling Gojo’s shoes. 

"I can’t abandon Yuji, he’s already without someone. I can’t really do much more damage by leaving him without someone." he said with quiet conviction, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you understood. 

“Kento—”

"I know how much he’s been through, and… I don’t want him facing it alone. Nobara, too���she’s so headstrong. She’ll need someone she can turn to, someone to help her channel all that fire. And Gojo’s bound to ask for updates on Fushiguro all the time. You know how he is with him. With them. I just….I just don’t want them to feel so alone about this at all. Usami is gaining some foothold and the conservatives are just….its complicated.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened, watching the familiar strength in his face, the quiet protector in him springing back to life. Passion was beautiful in your husband. Seeing even more alive with such caring passion makes you happy.

His gaze held yours, steady and honest, a reassurance that his heart was set on this, that he wasn’t leaving you behind but rather doing what he felt was right, the only thing that made sense.

You let the warmth you felt for him reflect in your smile, reaching for his hand as it rested between you. “Of course, Kento.” you replied softly, squeezing his fingers with encouragement. “They couldn’t have anyone better.”

A soft exhale escaped him, the tension leaving his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back. Relief and gratitude flickered across his face, the subtle shift of a man who didn’t often ask for things but knew he’d been understood completely. There was no need for grand gestures or lengthy explanations between the two of you; your silent agreement spoke volumes.

The conversation turned to lighter things, back to the warmth of dinner. But every so often, you caught his expression softening, a look of contentment and resolve, knowing he was about to embark on something meaningful, not just for him, but for those who needed him.

But of course, that also came with cons.

The move to Tokyo was a calm one.

But it was also a disastrous one, in his mind.

You were both too busy to spend time together.

The shift was subtle at first. Kento began to spend more and more hours at Jujutsu High, guiding the first years, sharing his experience, and quietly observing their progress. He’d come home later than usual, sometimes with papers under his arm and a faint weariness in his expression that he tried to mask with a smile. 

Meanwhile, you were pouring yourself into your new book, the words and ideas flowing freely under the careful guidance of your new editor. It was an exciting time, both for your work and for him. There was a renaissance in your paths to life blossoming in your efforts. But there was a toll, a quiet distance neither of you fully acknowledged.

One evening, you noticed the weight in his gaze as he joined you at the table. He seemed quieter, his usual calm presence tinged with something else; something like sadness. You set down your work, reaching across to hold his hand, catching the faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“Things have been so busy lately, my love.” he murmured, his voice soft, almost reluctant to admit it aloud. “I miss being able to spend more time with you.”

Your heart softened at his honesty, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I miss it too, Kento.” you replied, meeting his gaze with reassurance. “But you know how this is… the busy season. Soon, I’ll be back to post-writing mode, and we’ll have more time to do things together. This won’t last forever.”

He nodded, his lips curling into a small, understanding smile. “You’re right. It’s just… different.” There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, but it was short-lived.

As the weeks went on, your new editor’s involvement became more intense, often stretching into late-night calls or spontaneous meetings that kept you occupied well beyond the hours you’d once spent with Kento.

He’d catch you on the phone, your voice animated in a way that was hard to miss, even as he stood in the doorway waiting for a chance to say goodnight. It was hard to deal with, day by day.

But he said nothing, keeping his feelings carefully hidden behind the same mask of calm he’d worn so well for years. But you could sense it, the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on you just a little longer.

It was as if he was hoping you’d glance up, catch his eye, and read the unspoken questions there. In the quiet moments, he’d watch you, a silent longing in his gaze, feeling the bittersweet ache of being close but somehow… not close enough.

It was an unspoken tension, a soft thread pulled too tight between the two of you. And though he never voiced it, you began to sense how much he missed you—not just physically, but in all the little moments you once shared, now slipping through his fingers.

After all, you guys were all you truly had in all these times. He would always crave everything about you. About loving you, about being close to you. Just you. He missed you.

Nanam Kento was sure that he hadi tried to be patient. He reminded himself, over and over, that this was temporary, just a busy period that would eventually pass. He knew how much this book meant to you and understood how important it was to have an editor who could match your energy and vision. 

But despite all his quiet resolve, he couldn’t ignore the pang of envy that crept in every time he saw you light up, laughing or discussing something animatedly over the phone.

The way you and your editor connected; it was undeniable. The easy flow between you two, the synergy that seemed to bridge ideas without any need for words, stirred something unsettled in him.

He would come home from a long day at Jujutsu high, weary but hopeful to catch up with you. Instead, he’d often find you mid-call, your voice carrying hints of excitement he hadn’t heard in a while. You’d wave him a quick greeting, mouthing that you’d be off soon, but “soon” stretched, and his footsteps grew slower on his way to your side.

It wasn’t that he doubted you or the love between you two. He trusted you deeply. But the way you seemed to come alive with this editor… it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He knew you and this person worked well together, that they understood your work and helped bring out your best ideas. 

He understood it logically, but logic did little to quell the feeling of being left on the sidelines. After all, it was a feeling he recognized too well—the familiar ache of watching from a distance, of caring deeply and yet holding his tongue.

Some nights, he’d sit across from you at dinner, glancing up occasionally, only to see you distracted, your mind clearly still on your work. Or you’d mention a new idea your editor had suggested, a change you hadn’t considered but were now eager to explore.

And though he nodded, offering his encouragement, he couldn’t shake the thought: When was the last time I could make her smile like that?

As the weeks went by, he felt it more keenly, this quiet envy of the time you spent together. It wasn’t that he begrudged you for the partnership, but he couldn’t help wishing that he could have more of that side of you for himself; the side that was vibrant and full of life, that spark of curiosity and joy he’d always adored.

Nanami Kento wasn’t one to give voice to his insecurities easily, and he knew how silly he might sound, envious over something so innocent. He was a secured man, in all the ways he knew he was. He knew that too well. Yet as much as he told himself it was foolish, the feeling lingered.

So he held back, watching you in those moments with a quiet ache, determined to keep his envy hidden. He’d stay later at the school, throw himself into lesson planning, sometimes even offer to cover additional duties, as though it might distract him. But each time he came home, seeing you lost in conversation or laughter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, for now, a part of you belonged to someone else.

He told himself it was just work. You had deadlines; he understood that. But there was something else. Whenever your phone pinged with a message, you’d check it quickly, smile to yourself, then type out a reply, sometimes with a small laugh or a shake of your head. And every time, he’d feel a sharp pang of something foreign to him: jealousy.

Kento tried to reason with himself. You were his wife, and he trusted you implicitly. You had built a life together, one based on love, understanding, and mutual respect. But that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in his chest whenever he saw you so absorbed in those messages or whenever he saw that spark of excitement in your eyes when you talked about the feedback your editor gave you.

He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake the thought. When he saw you typing away late into the evening, smiling at the screen, a quiet worry settled in the back of his mind. What was this editor like? Why did their input seem to matter so much to you? And why did Kento, who usually approached everything in life with composure, find himself so deeply unsettled?

Tonight, though, he’d had enough. He stood in the doorway to your office, watching you as you leaned over your laptop, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fully immersed in your work.

You looked beautiful, more beautiful than ever, but that same nagging feeling of jealousy coiled tighter in his chest. And before he could stop himself, something in him just snapped.

“So, my love.” he said, his voice calm yet edged with tension. “Another late night, huh?”

“Yeah, it would seem so!” You retort, noticing him. “You’ve just come home?”

“Just a while ago.” He says to you, watching you turn your head back to your computer. You were typing even faster. He was sure you were trying to finish it, now that he was home.

You looked up once again, a soft smile lighting up your face. “I didn’t even hear you come in. You came in as sly as a little cat!” You stretched, setting aside your laptop and glancing at him warmly. “I was just going over some notes. The editor had a few thoughts on the latest chapter.”

”Did he have any suggestions for this part?" he asked, casually trying to keep his tone even as he nodded toward your screen.

You looked up, clearly surprised. "Who, my editor?"

"Yeah, my love." he said, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he leaned against the doorframe. "It just seems like he's been really… involved in your work lately."

You tilted your head, noticing the unusual tension in his voice, the way his words held a heaviness that wasn’t like him. “Well, that’s what they’re paid to do, you know?” you replied gently, hoping to keep things light, maybe coax a smile out of him. 

But his expression didn’t shift. You could tell almost immediately. Instead, his eyes held a quiet, guarded intensity that stopped you in your tracks. Realizing this was more than a casual remark, you closed your laptop, giving him your full attention.

“Kento… Is something wrong?” you asked, voice soft, searching his face for a sign of what was going on inside him.

He crossed his arms, hesitating. For a moment, he almost looked as if he wanted to brush it off, to go back to his usual collected demeanor, but he stopped. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that caught you off guard. 

“I know it’s irrational, and I know it’s probably nothing.” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But… I don’t like seeing you so wrapped up in this person’s feedback. You’ve been smiling at your phone more than you do at me lately, and I’m… not exactly used to feeling like this.”

The vulnerability in his words, the admission from someone usually so calm and composed, made your heart soften instantly. You reached out, covering his hand with yours, feeling the tension there, the way his fingers reflexively squeezed back. 

“Kento, baby.” you said, voice warm. “You don’t have to feel that way. No editor or anyone else could ever mean as much to me as you do. None of them are you. There’s only one of you, you know?”

He relaxed just a little, his shoulders easing as he let your words sink in. But he didn’t let go of that guarded look, the one that still held a hint of uncertainty. “Then why does it feel like I’m… competing for your attention?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a simple question, but the way he asked it, with a vulnerability that you knew he rarely revealed, struck you deeply.

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I didn’t realize how it looked.” you admitted, your thumb brushing lightly along his hand. “It’s just… I got excited about the project, and the new feedback’s been inspiring. But…I’m so sorry for not noticing or making you feel that way, baby.” 

You reached out, tracing a gentle hand down his arm, feeling the tension start to melt away as you looked into his eyes. “None of that compares to what I have with you. I hope you know that.  You’re the one I come home to, Kento. You’re the one who matters most. I love you. Only you.”

He seemed to exhale, his expression softening. You could see the quiet relief in his eyes, the way the tension finally started to lift, and it made you want to close whatever lingering distance was left between you. And then, his voice, low and almost hesitant, broke the silence.

“Tell me, my love.” he whispered, barely above a murmur. “Tell me that you want me. Just… say it.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice, that rare openness he was offering, made your heart ache in the best way. You don’t think you had ever felt like this before Kento. But every day since then, your heart has created more motions you could never understand. And you know, you just knew – it was because you loved him more than anything in life. 

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again. 

Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him.

“Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and before either of you could say another word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. The warmth you had come to hold onto in this life. 

You sank into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your ear. There was a familiar comfort there, a quiet strength in his embrace, that had always felt like home.

For a few moments, you both stayed that way, close and quiet, as if the world outside had faded and left only the two of you. He lifted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead/

Kento murmured into your hair, his voice gentle. “Promise me you’ll take a break from work. I’ll do it too. We’ll spend time together. Just us. No one else.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Of course, my baby. I can postpone everything else. If it’s you, everything else can wait. My husband being happy is more important to me!” you whispered.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, and he held you a little tighter, his own smile finally breaking through, his usual calm confidence restored. For Kento, there was no greater feeling than knowing you were his and that you were here, sharing this quiet, peaceful moment with him.

As he held you close, he felt a deep contentment, one he rarely allowed himself to savor. The jealousy that had once gripped him faded entirely, replaced by a quiet certainty. Of course there should be. Why wouldn't there be?

The certainty that your love, your life together, was the one thing in the world he could rely on. That he was sure. You love him, after all. And as he closed his eyes, resting his chin atop your head, he silently thanked the universe for you, for this love that was more real, more enduring, than any fleeting worry or passing jealousy.

This, he thought to himself, was where he belonged. 

Right here, in this moment, in your arms.

Nowhere else can compare to this.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AND HAVE A PICNIC. The night before you had agreed that it would be nice to enjoy the Tokyo sun, and have a picnic at the park. You talked about a cat cafe nearby too. He talked about how the yakisoba dish was introduced at his favorite restaurant. There were new spots popping out in Tokyo for you both to check out.

That’s what you agreed on. Today was supposed to be simple, a peaceful day just to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But the moment you woke up and felt his gaze linger a bit longer.

Slowly, smoothly, you could feel his hand finding the curve of your waist, you knew that quiet was about to turn into something much more intense. You knew your husband too well. When he’s hungry — he remains hungry.

He pulled you close, his grip both gentle and possessive as his eyes darkened. “Mine, only mine.” he murmured, the word almost a growl, his fingers tracing your skin like he wanted to memorize every part of you. 

The world around you melted away as he took his time, every kiss and touch filled with a need that made your heart race. You let him, giving himself over as he murmured softly against your skin, “My pretty wife… just for me.”

You could feel him stretching you out so perfectly with his fingers, causing you to moan loudly. Your husband was good, too good at everything he does. But when it comes to you, he was beyond excellent. Your eyes felt hazy as he looked at you with that predatory stare. You held him even closer, your moan getting louder. 

Your head turns awry with the high as you continue to ride his fingers as he kisses your neck, you're stuck against the wall occupied by him. No one, not even your previous lovers, those green boy boyfriends were able to make you feel this good.

No one could make you feel this way. Only him. Only your husband, your Kento. And every single time, he knew it. Even with his jealousy, he knew it. You were always going to fold when it’s him. Only him. 

“K–Kento.” you moan out, your voice breathless as you rock against his fingers, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. “You’re… you’re… oh—”

His eyes darken with desire, and a sly smile creeps onto his lips. “That’s it, my love.” he replies, his voice low and filled with warmth.

He peppered soft kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fire inside you that burned brighter with every passing second. His fingers pushed deeper, faster, and you felt so incredibly full, the exquisite stretch making your head spin.

“Come. Come for me.” he urged, his words wrapping around you like a spell, both a command and an invitation. The way he held you against the wall, the heat radiating from his body, only heightened the electric connection between you.

Every kiss he placed on your skin felt like a promise, an affirmation of the bond you shared. No one else had ever made you feel this way; so cherished and desired. With him, you were always ready to surrender completely, to give in to the overwhelming pleasure that built within you. Nothing else can compare with what you feel for your husband. Nothing. 

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body responding instinctively to his every touch. He was so good at remembering where to touch you next. After being together for this long, Kento knew your body even better than you. He knows how to make you cry, how to make you moan. He knows everything.

“Kento.” you gasped, the sound a mix of pleasure and longing, and as his fingers curled just right, that coil finally snapped. Your body shuddered, a wave of bliss crashing over you, leaving you breathless as you surrendered to the moment, lost in the magic of him.

You looked up at him, and his gaze was intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger that sent a rush of warmth through you. Without a word, he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with a fervor that reignited the fire within. 

His movements were slow at first, but as he pushed his fingers one by one, even deeper, your moans escaped you uncontrollably, pulling him closer as you urged him on, wanting nothing more than to feel every bit of him.

Somehow, you had been able to accommodate every tight, muscular finger in his hand. And you knew it felt good. He knew it felt good. Because he knew just what to do. No one else would. Only Kento would.

He responded with a low, pleased growl, the sound reverberating through his chest as his free hand tightened around your hip, holding you possessively against him.

There was an undeniable power in the way he claimed you, every inch of his touch a reminder of the connection you shared. You felt cherished and owned, completely his in this intimate moment.

Each thrust of his fingers sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, each stroke deliberate and filled with purpose. Your body responded eagerly, arching into him as you surrendered fully to the sensations, every moan escaping your lips urging him on.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only you, him, and the electric energy that wrapped around you both, binding you together in a rhythm that felt both primal and tender.

As the intensity of the moment deepened, you could feel the heat radiating from him, a tangible connection that anchored you both in a world of your own. His lips traveled down to your neck, trailing kisses that ignited your skin, leaving behind a trail of fire. You could feel the way he held you, his grip firm yet gentle, and it made you crave more, the need building inside you like a rising tide.

“Just like that, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing. The sound of his voice sent a thrill through you, adding to the layers of pleasure that enveloped you.

He continued to move his fingers with a deliberate slowness, coaxing every last ounce of ecstasy from your body. Each time he pushed deeper, you gasped, the sensations pulling you closer to the edge once again.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could merge your bodies into one. Drool started to form from your lips as he thrusted even deeper, pleasure repetitive in your lips to his ears. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed making a mess of you way too much. 

“K–kento. Oh my….g—oddddd…..” you breathed, the urgency in your voice echoing your desire. You needed him, all of him, and you wanted to feel that connection intensify. He looked into your eyes, and in that moment, you saw the depth of his love mirrored in his gaze, a promise that went beyond the physical.

He quickened his pace slightly, and you felt every pulse of his fingers inside you, each thrust igniting a new wave of pleasure. You could sense the hunger in him, a deep-seated need to feel you unravel beneath him.

“You’re perfect, aren't you?” he said, the words reverberating through you as you lost yourself in the moment. His possessiveness only heightened your arousal, each stroke of his fingers an affirmation that you belonged to him, and he to you.

With every thrust, every kiss, you felt the world around you blur, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of passion. Your bodies moved together as if they were made to fit, every touch syncing perfectly. You surrendered completely, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, pulling you under and lifting you higher.

“Come for me again, my love.” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with desire. You could feel the pressure building once more, and with a desperate need, you clung to him, riding the waves of sensation that coursed through you. 

The world outside faded entirely as you focused on the way he made you feel—alive, cherished, and utterly consumed by the moment. And as you finally tipped over the edge into bliss, you knew that this was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, lost in your shared passion.

As the world outside faded into a distant hum, you and Kento found yourselves enveloped in an intimate cocoon, where it was just the two of you. His gaze held yours, deep and searching, as if he were reading the unspoken words that danced between you. The air was thick with anticipation, and your heart raced in sync with the pulse of the moment.

With a gentle touch, he caressed your cheek, his fingers trailing down to your neck, igniting sparks of warmth beneath his fingertips. The softness of his touch contrasted with the burning desire that simmered between you, creating a perfect tension that left you breathless. You leaned into him, craving the connection that felt both familiar and exhilarating.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with warmth, laced with a hint of playful teasing that made your stomach flutter. You nodded, feeling a rush of trust and excitement wash over you. You knew he would take care of you, just as he always did.

As he shifted closer, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. When he entered you, it was as if time stood still. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy that made you gasp softly. You could feel every inch of him, filling you completely, as he took his time, letting you adjust to the fullness.

Kento's eyes never left yours, and in that moment, you felt utterly cherished. Each movement was deliberate, as if he were savoring the connection between your bodies and the bond you shared. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both surrendered to the rhythm of your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, and you could feel the sincerity in his words.

Those simple words sent a wave of warmth through you, making you feel both desired and loved. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer, as if you could merge your souls together.

He held you firmly, as though afraid to let go, fingers pressing into your skin with a hunger that left no doubt of his intentions. His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, gripping you with an intensity that was both grounding and electric, each touch sparking a heat that made you shiver.

The way he held you was raw and consuming, as though he wanted to memorize the feeling of you beneath his hands, every curve, every softness. He knew everything like the back of his hand/

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against your skin, each kiss he placed making you arch closer, melting into the strength of his hold. The roughness of his grip, his possessive energy, pulled you deeper.

It was like he was marking you as his, his touch heavy with a passion that left you breathless. He looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense, a silent promise of everything he wanted to give, everything he wanted to take.

The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, his warmth surrounding you, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way. Every inch of you felt alive under his touch, every nerve alight with a need that only he could satisfy.

His hands continued to explore, leaving trails of warmth, his touch demanding yet tender, as if reassuring you that he was there, and you were his.

The heat between you intensified, his hands roaming slowly, leaving a trail of tingling warmth wherever they went. You trembled, feeling the power behind every touch, every possessive whisper.

You could feel him drinking in the sight of you, holding you close as if he didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t rushed; it was filled with a focused, possessive affection that only made you crave him more.

Time blurred as his movements became a mix of gentleness and intensity. His hands slid lower, holding you firmly, possessively, as he whispered your name.

His words washed over you, filled with longing and satisfaction as he whispered, “You’re mine. Only mine.” Each soft murmur made your breath catch, his voice rough with devotion.

Your husband had always had a way of grounding you, pulling you back to him in the moments you needed it most. He held you with a quiet strength, his touches both comforting and electric, each caress more deliberate than the last.

When the busy schedules and late nights began to take their toll, you’d find yourself in his arms, feeling the tension melt away as he made you his world.

He was possessive in the gentlest way, his lips tracing along your skin, his voice murmuring low, tender words that anchored you to the present.

"Mine, mine." he'd say, over and over, his voice a husky whisper as he pressed deeper, slow and unhurried, savoring each moment. "My beautiful wife, my one and only."

You let yourself unravel under his touch, feeling each surge of pleasure as he pulled you closer, his mouth finding yours in heated kisses, his hands firm as they held you against him. The world outside faded, and there was only him—each movement, each shudder of pleasure woven with his love and need for you.

And as your body trembled, giving in to the pleasure he offered, he’d whisper words that sent warmth spiraling through you: His only. His good girl. His good little wife.

With every pulse and every breath, he made you his, claiming you in the way only he could, and you felt yourself give in, letting him take what he needed, knowing that he was yours just as deeply.

In these moments, he was entirely yours, just as you were his, both of you wrapped up in a world where only the two of you existed. And as he held you close, that familiar need he had for you was clear in his eyes, you could feel the depth of his love; the way he wanted you, needed you—all pouring out with each possessive word and touch.

Every thrust was slow and measured, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose, as if Kento were painting a masterpiece with your bodies.

He took his time, carefully crafting a rhythm that drew you both closer to the edge of ecstasy, like the steady buildup of a powerful wave ready to crash upon the shore. Each moment felt like an eternity, stretched and molded by his touch, igniting every nerve ending with heat and longing.

Kento relished in the way you responded to him, the way your body quivered beneath him, your breaths coming in soft gasps that filled the space between you.

He liked making you wait, savoring the way your eyes widened in need and your body writhed, pleading for more. The way you mewled over and over again, lost in the depths of desire, was music to his ears, a siren call that drove him further into the depths of his own hunger for you.

“Please, Kento. More. More—” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation, the need pooling in the pit of your stomach. Each word was a plea, a yearning that echoed in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“P–please….pleaseeeee…..”

A teasing smile played on his lips as he leaned down, his breath warm against your neck. He bit gently into your flesh, a sweet sting that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to moan, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. 

“Enjoy it, my love. Enjoy the slow burn.” he murmured, his voice low and husky, wrapping around you like a silken ribbon. “Let’s have fun, hm?”

His words were a command and a caress, urging you to embrace the intensity of the moment. The way he spoke your name, the way he held you, felt like a tether pulling you deeper into the shared experience. You were both caught in a delicate dance, a balance of power and surrender, where every pause and every gentle caress built anticipation.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined, lost in the growing tension between your bodies. Kento was in control, but you loved it. You loved the way he took his time, how each thrust felt like an exploration, a journey into the very essence of what it meant to be together.

He would withdraw slightly, teasing you with the promise of more, before plunging back into you with a slow, deliberate push that sent sparks of pleasure radiating from the core of your being.

Each pulse of his body against yours was a reminder of his possession, of the bond you shared that was both beautiful and intoxicating. The slow burn he created enveloped you, igniting your senses and drawing you closer to the precipice of your desires. You could feel the heat building within you, an insistent wave that throbbed and twisted, desperate for release.

“Just like that, my love.” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Let it build. Let it consume you.”

You let his words command you, letting them wash over you as you melted into the sensations. Every tear that fell was a blessing of pleasure and the pain mingling together, a sweet agony that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

You could feel your heart racing, your breaths quickening, as you approached that sweet, familiar edge, caught between the bliss of the moment and the urgency of your need.

With every deep stroke, you felt a delicious tension building within you, a tightness that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Each time he filled you completely, it ignited a spark of pleasure that resonated deep in your core, drawing soft gasps from your lips. Your husband was a great lover. Perhaps the best there ever was. 

You surrendered to him fully, giving yourself over to the sensations that enveloped you. The outside world faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you entwined in this intimate dance. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, made every moment feel precious. 

You can only focus on him. Only him. He was what mattered. The way his eyes held yours, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes of his love and desire.

You could write as many beautiful works as you could ever want. But perhaps the most beautiful creation in your life was him. Loving Nanami Kento was your most beautiful creation.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel. It was a combination of love and raw passion, an electric current that flowed between you, binding you together in a way that felt profoundly intimate.

Every caress of his hands, every whispered word, heightened your awareness of him, igniting your senses and making you acutely aware of the depth of your connection.

You could feel his warmth enveloping you, a comforting presence that made you feel safe yet desired. The way he moved, the way he took his time to explore every inch of you, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection and longing.

With each thrust, you could feel your bodies communicating in a language all your own, a silent exchange that deepened the bond between you.

As you both lost yourselves in each other, the outside world faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you entwined in a universe of your own making.

The air around you thickened with anticipation, and every touch felt electric, as if the very essence of your connection pulsed between you. As if you truly belonged together.

You could sense the tension coiling tighter, each movement a languid dance that drew you deeper into an exquisite rhythm, a beautiful synergy that melded your souls together and ignited a fire within you that felt utterly intoxicating.

“Kento, I’m coming. I’m so close.” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as desire swirled through your veins.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, his lips soft yet insistent, igniting a cascade of shivers that traveled down your spine. “Come for me, baby. Let go.” he urged, his voice low and rich with promise, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

That was when he shifted, his movements quickening, a sudden urgency that sent your heart racing. The delicious friction intensified, and with each thrust, the world outside vanished completely, leaving only the two of you in a haze of passion. 

Every kiss, every whisper, every pulse of his body against yours propelled you closer to that blissful edge, where pleasure and surrender intertwined, drawing you both into a beautiful climax that promised to sweep you away entirely.

As Kento quickened his pace, the urgency of his movements sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building to a peak that felt both thrilling and inevitable.

The air around you crackled with electricity, every sensation heightened as he pressed deeper, claiming you in a way that made your heart race and your body ache for more. His breaths came in ragged gasps, mingling with the sound of skin against skin, each thrust driving you further into a euphoric haze.

“My love, I’m so close.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m….I’m gonna come.”

You could see the raw need in his gaze, the way he was completely lost in the moment, just as you were. It was intoxicating to know that you had this effect on him, that you could pull him into this blissful space where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

“I want you, baby.” you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency as you felt that familiar coil tightening within you. “I need you.”

“D’ you want me inside, hm? Where do you want me?”

You moan, thinking about how hot it was. How hotter it would be to have him inside of you. “I-inside me. Please. Please. Make me full.”

“Y’d like that? You want me to make you full of me, my love?”

“Yes, yes, o–oh, yes—”

With a low growl, Kento shifted his focus, pushing into you with a deep, purposeful thrust that sent stars dancing behind your eyelids. The world outside was a distant memory, all that existed was the heat building between you, a fire that consumed you both whole.

His movements were rhythmic yet fervent, each push coaxing you closer to the edge, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. It felt so good. It felt way too good and you wanted it to last forever.

“Let go, my love.” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers coursing through your body. “I’m right there with you.”

And then, with a final, deep thrust, you felt him come inside you, warmth flooding you as he released with a low groan, his body pulsing against yours. The sensation was overwhelming—a rush of heat that spread through you, mingling with your own climax as pleasure washed over you in waves, leaving you breathless and trembling benea

th him.

You held on closer to him, taking in a new dawn’s breath.

You were so in love with this man, more than you know. 

And he was the same — he couldn’t get enough of loving you.

“You know, if I had known jealousy would make you like this…” you finally say, your voice still laced with breathlessness as you regain your composure.

The warmth of the moment lingers around you like a soft blanket, and you can feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body. Kento’s kisses trail along your glistening skin, each gentle press of his lips a sweet reminder of the connection you’ve just shared.

His lips are soft against you, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and the scent of your mingled skin fills the air with a heady sweetness that is all-consuming.

“I would get you jealous often, baby.” you tease, a playful smile curving your lips as you look down at him.

Kento pauses, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his expression a mixture of amusement and mock seriousness. “Is that so?” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends a delightful shiver through you. 

The intensity in his eyes is unmistakable, a mix of possessiveness and affection that makes your heart flutter.You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound echoing around you in the intimate space you’ve created together.

“Absolutely. You should see how cute you get when you’re all riled up, baby.” you say, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “Fiesty and all.”

His lips curve into a smirk, and he leans closer, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re lucky I’m not the type to stay jealous for long, my love.” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “But if it means I get to have you like this…” 

His voice trails off, and he plants a series of soft kisses down your neck, each one sending delightful tingles racing across your skin. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to relish the sensations he stirs within you. 

“You’re incorrigible sometimes, Kento.” you whisper, feeling the weight of his affection enveloping you. The playful banter only adds to the intimacy, making it all the more special, as if you were sharing a secret joke that only the two of you understood.

“Only for you, my love.” he replies, his voice sincere as he pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “But really, seeing you light up like that—it’s worth it. Just know I’ll always come back to claim what’s mine.”

epilogue 

As the soft glow of the evening light filtered through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room, you and Kento found yourselves nestled comfortably together. You hadn’t left the bed much since this morning.

And your husband was incredibly happy about that. He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Everything about the room smelt like sex and sweat, that was to be expected. Your husband’s insatiable when he gets into it. 

But the atmosphere was relaxed and intimate, the air filled with the kind of warmth that comes from deep affection. Everything about the aftermath was the passion of lovers who will always be in love.

And you couldn't help but admit that you felt blessed with that. This passion between you and Kento, it will never die. For bitter, for worse, for good and better — you will always have this. You will always be together like this.

After a playful exchange repeating over and over again, you both took breaks in between. For a while, you both watched some television. Kento seems to enjoy Love Island, so he wants to watch the whole series with you now. A little while later, the two of you talked a little bit about the little things you’ve seen and done lately.

Soon enough, you were sure you were hungry. Kento immediately kissed you and went to the kitchen, coming back with some bowls of favorite snacks and some refreshing drinks, on ice.

But of course, he urged you to drink the water most. With all the screaming he’s made you do, he’s a little bit more worried about your voice, 

You both conversed about silly things now, laughing at how Yuji seems to be as silly as ever before. About how Gakuganji seems to continue to be annoyed by Gojo Satoru’s phone calls.

But then he talked about Gojo Satoru expecting another child on the way, albeit accidental. In that moment, you realized it was that moment. So, you took a moment to shift the conversation to that.

“You know, baby…..” you began, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know you’re still busy, I’ve been thinking maybe….just maybe…”

“You know surprises aren’t needed.” He laughs, lowering his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I know, I know.” You roll your eyes playfully but let out a small smile, leaning against his chest. “Don’t you think it’s time we consider having kids soon. I’m really happy to make that happen soon.”

Kento turned to you, his brow raising in playful skepticism, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Is that so? You’re ready to dive into the chaos of parenting, my love? You know it’s a lot of work, right?” He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting, filling the space between you.

You couldn’t help but grin back, your heart fluttering at the prospect. “Of course! But I think it would be so worth it. Just imagine our little ones running around, making messes and keeping us on our toes.”

He smiles at you fondly. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I know so.” You grinned at him. “I can also see you being the doting dad, teaching them all about fighting and how to protect themselves. Or you know, just making some bread from home! I do miss authentic rye bread from an expert in Danish baked goods. Imagine how our kids will feel when they eat it too!”

He laughed, a rich, hearty sound that echoed in the room and made you feel light with joy. “You think so? I suppose you’re right, my love. I can already picture myself getting wrapped around their little fingers. They’d have me wrapped around their hearts in no time.” 

The sincerity in his tone made your heart swell with happiness.

Everything about your husband makes you feel happy everyday.

If life were to teach what happiness looks like, it would be him.

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. “And they’d have your strength and my charm. Can you imagine how adorable they’d be?”

Kento’s expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You know, I’ve always wanted that. A family with you. You make everything better.” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, igniting a sense of hope and love within you.

“So, you’re on board with the idea?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with anticipation.

“Absolutely, my love.” he replied, that playful smirk returning to his face. “But first, I think we need to indulge in another round of this.” 

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and captured your lips in a kiss that sent shivers down your spine. You melted against him, losing yourself in the moment, the kiss deepening as he pulled you closer.

It was intoxicating, filled with a mix of passion and love that made your heart race. Everything about Kento was just a pool you wanna drown in. Everything about him was worth drowning in. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other, a perfect blend of laughter, warmth, and desire.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your cheeks flushed with warmth, Kento looked at you with that glint of mischief in his eyes that you adored.

“Okay, let’s talk about the details later, my love.” he said, grinning widely. “But for now, I think we have some important work to do to ensure that happens.”

With that, he pulled you back into another passionate kiss, laughter bubbling between you as you savored the moment. You felt the electric connection between you, the promise of a beautiful future hanging in the air, ripe with possibilities.

As you both continued to kiss, the playful banter resumed, filled with sweet nothings and playful teasing about the “practice” needed for the future family you envisioned. After all, practice makes perfect.

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: How Arti Gives Back

In the RW community on this site, I’ve heard quite a few Artimand thoughts about how Gourmand would help Artificer heal from her trauma and grief. And while that’s all good, something that’s continuously puzzled me when shipping Artimand romantically is, “but how would Artificer help Gourmand?”

Let me tell you, one of my all-time favorite qualities in a ship is the characters helping each other improve themselves, especially in ways no other character pairing can. And while it’s easy to see Gourmand helping Artificer improve, given the vast amount of grief and lust for vengeance she has to overcome, and since Gourmand probably has a natural inclination to help others in need, what would she give to him in return? And to add to that, why would Gourmand fall in love with her and choose her as a mate, as opposed to just casually looking out for her and straight pitying her at worst, especially when she’d most-likely appear very un-qualified for romance initially?

Well, I’ve developed some thoughts and headcanons for that, and I’ll put them below the cut! Please let me know if anything could be improved, or if you can add to it! I’d love more reasons to think of these two sweethearts!

Option 1: Combat

Arti would help Gourmand improve his combat skills. The way I see it, Gourmand is a very strong warrior, but doesn’t often engage in combat simply because he doesn’t see a need for it outside of defense. Even then, due to his kind nature, he typically only fights back enough to deter predators, not kill them. However, with Arti being a carnivore, and having LOTS of experience with more complex combat situations than just defense (mostly from scav encounters), I like to think that Arti would give Gourm more combat tips and they may even end up bonding on occasional hunting trips together. And it would circle back to Arti because Gourm, with his cooking skills, would make the resulting meals from their hunts taste SO much better than what Arti is used to, allowing her to slow down and really enjoy food in a way she hasn’t been able to with her warrior lifestyle!

Option 2: Motherhood

This one’s pretty self-explanatory. Given Arti was a mother once, and Gourmand’s story ends with him getting 2 pups, I could easily see him wanting Arti to stay around to act as a mother for them. Not only would that give her the chance to embrace motherhood again, but it would take some pressure from Gourmand because he has a partner (and an experienced one at that) to help him with parenting! I mean, don’t get me wrong, Gourmand is undoubtedly great with pups, but even so it’s good to have some help! Even more so since (depending on what general age you headcanon the pups as) he’d likely have to leave his pups alone while getting food; it’d be nice to have someone with her own experience caring for pups who can look after them during those times and, to add onto the first option, even help teach them how to hunt and survive on their own!

And heck, I personally actually like to imagine that, a little later, after she gets comfortable enough and fully overcomes her grief, Artificer would actually have a second litter with Gourmand (naratively-speaking, this would signify the completion of her character arc)! Of course it’d be a big deal for Arti, but just imagine how much fun Gourm would have exploring the new experience of getting to raise biological pups this time! And I can just see him being so, so thankful that Arti somehow managed to give him even more family to love!

Option 3: Passion

So this one’s the most personal-headcanon-based, and built off my personal depiction of Gourmand as a character. In my headcanon, Gourmand starts out as a rather reluctant leader of his colony. I have this whole idea of what specific event led to him becoming the leader, but to summarize, it seemed like a very sudden chance event at the time, yet from it he was more-or-less unanimously chosen to lead by the other Outer Expanse slugcats due to him having shown great creativity, survival skills, and protectiveness. Gourmand himself, however, doesn’t really feel he’s fit to be a leader; he’s used to an easygoing life just peacefully surviving and doing his own thing, not managing and defending an entire colony! He’s so used to seeing the simple parts of the world that he often underestimates himself, so something as “grand” as leadership often appears too great for him.

That’s where Arti comes in. I like to imagine that Artificer is extremely passionate, but that for a long time after her pups’ deaths, that passion was manifested almost exclusively as immense rage, grief, and desire for revenge against their killers. But imagine if, once she gets comfortable with Gourmand’s colony, she begins to show that passion in positive emotions! Not only would she, after seeing what he’s capable of in hunts, help him see that he IS the perfect leader for his colony, but just IMAGINE: Arti hyping Gourm up as the biggest, strongest warrior in the Expanse, just before the two prepare to take down a king vulture; or Arti patching him up after a really tough battle and assuring him he’ll be even better next time; or Arti teasing Gourm and them chasing each other around as they spar together in the OE fields; or Arti getting all dramatic as she recites tales of her epic scavenger battles to his eager pups; or Arti showering Gourm with kisses after he makes a REALLY good meal with her favorite meats!  There are SO many possibilities for hypeman Arti, and I figure that, once Gourm sees her fiery spirit used in a positive way, especially to help him and his family, he can’t help but fall for her! And this idea is part of why I like the Spicybun ship name so much - while Gourmand helps Arti mellow out, Arti literally spices up his life! They just compliment each other so perfectly!!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

MAN do I love these two so much! This is about all I have right now on this subject, but again, I’d LOVE to hear any other ideas for how Artificer would help Gourmand, or additions to these ideas! I just adore the “opposites attract” ship trope (although I personally prefer to call it “inverses attract”), and I think Artimand is easily one of the best examples of that in Rain World! 

Thank you to anyone who made it to the end of this wall of text! And let me know if I should share any more Rain World headcanons, because I’ve definitely got more!

Oh, and if you've found this, @melissa-titanium, hope you like it again! Let me know if you ever want me to stop @-ing you with these Artimand headcanons, by the way!

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK

⌈ A Marauders Era Fix-It-Fic - featuring Reader as Walburga Black but better ⌋

LAST UPDATED : 01/11/24 | [dd/mm/yy]

SERIES SUM. : Just another fix-it-fic where you fall into a fictional universe and take up the role of a villain but... in this instance, you replace Walburga Black.

You love the fandom but the Marauders Era has always been quite vague ...will you be able to live peacefully? One thing's for sure, you're getting a divorce and you're taking the kids!

UPDATE SCHEDULE : on the first day of every month, a new chapter will be posted the first chapter is the only exception ;)

CHAPTERS :

i. ARRIVAL (special thanks to @thebestofoneshots for beta reading this chapter!) ii. SHOPPING (1/2) iii. SHOPPING (2/2) iv. BEGINNINGS v. SIRIUS : FIRST DAY vi. POTIONEER ⌈new⌋ ...

EXTRA :

ANON ASK : HOW THE SERIES CAME TO BE

DISCLAIMER : please read

TAGS : son sirius black/mother reader ; son regulus black/mother reader ; isekai au/transfering worlds au ; walburga black is evil ; not reader though hehe~ ; hurt/comfort ; fluff ; platonic fluff ; second chances ; reader basically adopts remus, barty crouch jr and peter pettigrew ; peter pettigrew redemption arc? ; but he never betrays the marauders in the first place so... ; remus gets a better life ; reader becomes a semi-political figure to help werewolves + house elves ; reader assumes a male alias ; alternating chapters from different povs directly effected by reader's actions ; reader is a powerful independent business woman and single mother ; reader is a milf ; reader secretly hates dumbledore ; reader hates orion black ; reader hates JKR (we all do) ; divorce ; mentions of child abuse (physical and mental and emotional) ; mentions of neglect ; angry reader ; canon jily ; mentions of wolfstar ; regulus being a precious baby ; sirius has his moments too ; reader being a powerful trio with minerva and pomfrey ; reader potentially adopting the black sisters (bellatrix, andromeda and narcissa) ; reader adopts everyone! ; there'll be ocs ; reader leaves to live her dream cottagecore life ; happy ending! ; i'll add more tags in the future

TAGLIST DISCONTINUED...

[drdtfuitgumies]

the 100th situation!! yippee!

we've officially hit our 100th situation (not counting the pinned post)...!! to celebrate, i drew everyone* for one of my oddly specific, self-indulgent aus with a target audience of one (me); my drdt x digimon au!

version without any digimon

the au is mostly running on vibes (especially as we don't have concrete backstories for everyone, and a lot of interpretation has to be done), but the digimon adventure trilogy is the main inspiration!

disorganized notes: -) i'll be going to more detail in my other acc! linked here -) this takes place in an universe where hope's peak academy and the tragedy never existed. they still have their "talents" but they don't get nationwide recognition or anything. this helps and hurts some backstories -) i'm separating the story to two arcs. the first arc is where mai befriends everyone in the right half of the image and takes them adventuring in the digital world, ending in her untimely and unfortunate death. which was totally not supposed to happen, whoops :( this fractures mai's friend group and only the valiant efforts of a post-character development arei prevents them from completely cutting off contact with each other -) the second arc takes place ~3 years after, where mai's friends' unaddressed drama and hard feelings finally crop up again and two innocent bystanders (teruko and eden) are forced to take front seat and suffer the consequences. everyone left in the left side of the image isn't relevant to the plot and are background cameos at best but i didn't wanna leave them out -) its basically Character Building Playground for me and a way for me to cope about what could've been. but it also means that the most "content" i make up in my head is actually between the first and second arc, because i wanna figure out how awful everyone's coping mechanisms are and the falling outs that ensue...

summary of my unserious thought process behind each partner choice (more detailed in my other acc): -) the characters from hu to teruko specifically have partners who are relevant in the digimon adventure continuity. if you've watched tri in particular, you know exactly why i chose mai and teruko's partners ^_^ -) hu: morphomon. thank you lost evolution kizuna for introducing a butterfly child-level / rookie!! -) ace: patamon. they are both orange. interpreting patamon as a small angry dog was also really funny to me -) david: gabumon. protag assignment. gabumon wears a fur pelt to appear stronger and it's stated to experience a "180° personality shift" -) xander: agumon. protag assignment. they would be BEST friends -) j: tentomon. juxtaposition of cute pink baby form vs very cool and scary looking insects that shoot LIGHTNING. -) arei: piyomon/biyomon. no reason in particular the evolutions i picked just fit really well -) charles: palmon. plant. the idea of charles naming a plant "charles jr" was hilarious to me, and then the idea of palmon wearing matching goggles and a labcoat was very very cute -) whit: gomamon. sea ouppy... commonly characterized as a very laidback and fun-loving partner in digimon media. -) mai: tailmon/gatomon. Kity :) this specific tailmon is also meant to mirror monotv and behaves like it -) teruko: meicoomon. Kity :) sad kity who turns evil and fucked up :( -) eden: solarmon. silly machine digimon. also commonly evolves to the clock digimon -) min: wormmon. bookworm pun. also very vague allusion to ichijouji ken. Min is not plot relevant (for now) and she's actually way better off here than canon!! -) rose: lalamon. no reason in particular i just think they would be friends and lalamon's face is funny. -_- and 0o0 -) nico: loogamon. wolfy :) wolfy who bites -) veronika: porcupamon. spooky monokuma-esque bear -) levi: bemmon. ourple. also the one "unnatural" digimon pick that i thought fit him well. also, also hoping that digimon liberator gives me a shiny new bemmon evolution line that can work with him! -) arturo: jellymon. i had absolutely zero idea what to do with him because hes one of the two characters i cant get a grip on (for writing) so i just sicced Ghost Game's Jellymon on him

[crescenthistory]

hear me out…b4 with paul <333

thanks for your request babe! this fit best as a silly drabble in my mind, enjoy<33

Prompt: B.4 “Kiss me again”

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: sparring, kissing, goofing

The blade whistles through the air, missing your cheek by a breath as you twist out of the way. You’re not fast enough to avoid the follow-up, though – Paul’s foot sweeps low, knocking you off balance. You hit the ground hard, air rushing from your lungs.

He is standing over you in an instant, poised and confident, dark curls falling over his forehead, eyes glittering with the quiet triumph he always tries to mask.

“Yield?” he asks, that edge of teasing already creeping into his voice. He extends a hand down to you, his stance relaxed, clearly feeling like he has already won. Typical.

“I’ll think about it,” you huff, reaching up as if you’re taking his hand. The second your fingers brush his, you tug, hard. He yelps in surprise as you yank him off his feet, using his own weight to pull him down.

He lands hard beside you, his expression startled for a split second before it melts into a grin. You don’t give him time to recover, rolling over to press the flat of your practice blade to his throat.

“Yield?” you echo, your smirk matching his earlier confidence.

Paul laughs, bright and unguarded, and it’s the kind of sound that makes your chest feel too tight. His shoulders shake beneath you, his amusement spilling out in waves, and for a moment, you forget about the training ground and the hours of drills. It’s just him, here, like this.

“Okay, okay, I yield.” His hands coming up in mock surrender. In his eyes, though, there is a dancing, teasing glint that should tell you he’s not done playing yet.

You lift the blade, relaxing your grip – and he strikes.

With a swift movement, Paul rolls you both over so you’re beneath him, pinning you to the ground. Before you can protest, he catches your wrists, holding them down with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. His body is warm above you, his breath still coming fast from the laughter.

“Can’t believe you fell for your own trick,” he murmurs, leaning in close, voice a low drawl meant to needle you.

Your lips twitch, torn between frustration and amusement. “Can’t believe you’re so insufferable.”

“I’ve been told.” He smirks, leaning in even closer, so close now that his breath ghosts over your skin. “But admit it. You love losing to me.”

He loves to push the limit with you, but you won't let him get away that easy.

“Oh, please.” You scoff, squirming under his grip. “I am so above that.”

You throw your hips up on the side of his, mind too focused on not losing to panic over your proximity, as you use your weight and sheer willpower to topple him over, ripping out of his grasp from the momentum.

Both opponents scramble to your feet, eyes trained on the other to catch any small movement. Despite yourself, a smile begins to tug at the corner of your mouth, relishing in the pure childish fun of it all.

Once Paul sees, he smiles himself, shaking his head slightly at your antics.

In the next moment you throw your body around and lunge, taking advantage of his slight distraction.

Your foot connects with Paul’s chest, and he stumbles back, laughing as he barely regains his balance. His grin grows lopsided, wild, as he twirls his blade in hand, trying to recover some dignity.

“Oh, don’t even think about it,” you warn as you see him shift his posture. You know him too well, his signalling, his tells – he’s about to pull one of his flashy moves, the kind that makes you roll your eyes but also secretly impresses you. 

Paul cocks his head, increasingly infuriating smirk still on his lips. “Think about what? Winning?”

You narrow your eyes. “Trying and failing to, at least.”

Ignoring you, his foot sliding forward with practised ease, body twisting in ways it shouldn’t be able to, blade arcing toward you in a sweeping strike.

You sidestep him, just out of range, letting him stumble slightly past you.

“Really?” you tease, pressing in close before he can recover, mock blade at the ready. “Is this the same Paul Atreides that’s supposed to be great?”

“Oh, I’m saving my energy,” he quips, but his breath is coming faster, his shoulders rising and falling. “Just giving you a false sense of security.”

“Right,” you say, repressing an eye roll so you can keep your focus on him. “So, in this plan, I’m supposed to get overconfident and–”

Paul surges forward before you can finish, his blade coming at you in a quick, fluid strike. You barely manage to block it, relying on your reflexes as you twist and catch his wrist in your hand, using his momentum to throw him off balance. He stumbles, wide-eyed, and you spin, finally pressing him back against the smooth stone floor of the courtyard.

His back hits the ground with a soft thud, and you’re on him in an instant, straddling his waist, pinning him down. Your practice blade presses lightly to his throat, though your grin is what’s really sharp now.

“How did that work out, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yield, or are we going to keep pretending?”

Paul’s breathing has quickened beneath you, but there’s still that mischievous glint in his eyes, even as he raises his hands in a final surrender. “Alright, alright,” he says, smiling. “You win this round.”

You can’t help the triumphant laugh that bursts from you. “Oh, don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m not,” he replies, his voice dropping an octave as he looks up at you, his eyes flicking to linger on your lips. “Not when you fight like that.”

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat. It’s all playful until it’s not.

Maybe if you weren’t full of endorphins from the fight and, more importantly, the win, you would have thought twice. Instead, you drop your knife in favour of his cheek and lean down to catch his lips with yours.

It’s short lived, seconds feeling like minutes when you’re this high, but when you pull back, Paul’s hands shoot up to secure you by your waist and neck so you can’t go far. 

He whispers your name with a wild look in his eyes. When you meet that gaze, you realise what you did and what it meant.

Paul tilts his head up slightly, lips still brushing yours. “Kiss me again,” he murmurs.

For a second, you’re frozen, caught in the quiet intensity of his gaze. His voice i soft but insistent, and the teasing banter from a moment ago seems to have slipped away. The challenge remains, though.

“Paul…” you start, but whatever you were going to say fades as his hands tighten on your hips, urging you closer.

“You heard me,” he says, his tone lighter this time, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re going to deny the victor their spoils?”

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. “Pretty sure I’m the victor.”

When Paul rolls you over this time, it’s with lazy ease as you don’t feel the need to fight it. His hand falls from your face to hold him up, most of his weight being placed on his hips on yours.

“What about now?” 

“Doesn’t change a thing, Atreides.”

Still, you give into him and tug on his hair to bring him back down into another searing kiss. What started as a playful gesture shifts into something deeper, something that makes you forget about the sparring match, about the training grounds, about everything except the feeling of Paul’s lips moving against yours. His hands slide up your sides, settling on your waist, and his fingers flex slightly, like he’s anchoring himself to the moment, to you.

When you pull back for air, your foreheads resting together, Paul is smiling –  that rare, genuine smile that you only ever see when it’s just the two of you, away from all the expectations and responsibilities.

“You know,” he says, voice breathless but still tinged with humour, “you didn’t have to knock me flat to kiss me.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you sit back slightly, still straddling him. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides,” you add, raising an eyebrow, “if you wanted to kiss me so badly, you could’ve won.”

Paul laughs, full and bright, and you feel his body shake beneath yours. “Oh, I let you win.”

“Right,” you drawl, shifting to poke him in the chest with your finger. “Sure, sure. Go on and keep telling yourself that, future Duke.”

His grin softens, and he reaches up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d rather be here.”

The way he says it so earnestly hits you somewhere deep, making your heart stutter in your chest. You swallow, your playful bravado slipping for a moment as you meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with that same intensity, the one that makes you feel seen in a way that’s almost too much.

“Paul…” you start again, but he interrupts with a playful grin, his hands slipping to your waist again.

“Don’t go all serious on me now,” he teases, though there’s a gentleness to it, a way he’s pulling you back into the easy, playful rhythm you share. “You’ve still got me pinned. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

You laugh, shaking off the sudden tension. “You mean while you let it last?” Your tone imitates his.

“Exactly.”

“Well, if we pretend I’m in charge,” you say, leaning down again, your breath mingling with his, “then I say we take a break from all this training.”

Paul hums in agreement, his lips brushing yours again as he murmurs, “You always have the best ideas.”

“Now you admit it.”

[unluckilyimnot]

Fluffy 4 for bbg Sakura :3 (like in a "If I run and leap at him, he will catch me, watch this" "NO I'M HOLDING COFFEE" meme)

4 jumping in their arms with sakura

note: please ii loved that, that's such a fun idea thank you sm for participating !!

m.list | rules | from this

You’ve got to be a close friend of Suo, to Sakura’s distress. You really get along a bit too well, with the same sarcastic humor that turns his life in hell itself at least once a day. That’s your way to say that you love him dearly Nirei guessed – to be honest, he loved it too. You were Sakura’s great weakness and it shows daily thanks to your and Suo’s prank on him.

You were currently sitting on a seesaw, Nirei on the floor next to you and Suo on the second one, talking about anything coming to your mind. Sakura lost at rock paper scissors and had to bring back everyone’s favorite drink on this hot summer day. Maybe you were dumb from the beginning to stay outside with the heat but you quite enjoyed it until now – the only thing missing was the fresh drinks.

“He catches me every time when I run to him for a hug,” you said proudly to Suo after he implied that Sakura probably wasn’t really affectionate sometimes. He arcs in brow, not believing a word you said – or maybe he just wanted to mess around.

“Is that so. I won’t believe it until I see it myself,” he dares you subtly, a knowing smile on his lips. He didn’t even care to hide it. You scoffed at his boldness.

“Ok wait until he comes back, you’ll see.” You're maybe a little too confident but you believe in your boyfriend. He's taking forever to come back, but you're waiting patiently, dying to prove Suo's wrong. 

When he finally showed up, it didn't even take you a second to get up on your feet and speak again. “Watch this.” 

You immediately made your way to Sakura who was holding a small white bag, probably with drinks in it, and an ice cream on the other hand. You didn’t care though, rushing to meet him with a huge smile on your face. 

“You’re finally back !” you scream with enthusiasm, making him blush. He nodded, expecting you to slow down when you got nearly in front of him – but you didn’t and he started to panic. 

“Wait – I’m holding too many things here !” he tries to warn you unsuccessfully when you still jump into his arms. He yelped at your weight suddenly falling onto him and he had to drop the bag quickly and did his best to catch you without letting go of the ice cream. 

“You’re the worst !” he screamed in your ears, face red in the way he dropped everything to grab you by the waist as if you’re weighing nothing for him. Your chest is flat against his  – not helping him at all to control the beating of his heart. 

“So he does !” Sakura can hear Suo’s voice from afar before glazing his way to find him with a silly smile on his lips and then he realized that you might have done all of that just for Suo’s to see. 

[lavenderlacedquill]

OH MY GOD I HAVE BEEN EATING UP ALL THE WILL GRAHAM CONTENT YOU HAVE BEEN POSTING. i was wondering if i could request something from the angst prompts? i was thinking prompt, “sharing a kiss after not seeing each other for a long period of time”? with the quote "just-just hold me for a second". it could take place like right after he gets released in season 2. thank you for all you write!!! <33

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Will Graham Masterlist <3

Navigation Page <3

This request is perfection! When I watched season 2 and the whole Chilton arc, I was FULL of wonder for this very scenario!

Here's the prompt list anon is referring to :)

✧˖°

Okay, let's talk logistics. I don't think you would have been able to visit Will while he was in Chilton, whether that be because he personally didn't want you to see him there or because the hospital wouldn't allow a visit without a purpose.

So, for the entirety of his Hospital incarceration, you have had no contact with him. No visits, phone calls, any direct communication for nearly two months.

After his arrest, you stayed in your shared home. The first few days were filled with wallowing, but that could only last so long. Routine kept you sane, along with the small updates Jack would give you after each of his visits with Will. You knew that days were passing, but time seemed to stop, or begin moving in a completely different direction. The sun rose, set, the moon came out. All of that was the same.

But nothing was the same either. The dogs would curl up by the front door in the evenings, emitting quiet cries for Will, ones that would become part of your new routine. You'd wake up, always wearing one of Will's shirts, and make coffee before tending to the dogs. You'd go to work, come home, make a dinner for one, then get ready for bed. And the next day, everything would repeat again.

But today, you woke up from an afternoon nap to the sound of tires coming down your driveway. You make no move to get up until you hear the closing of a car door. You pull one of Will's warm flannels over your tank top and his boxers before stepping out onto the porch, the dogs following closely behind. Your head hangs low, expecting only a mail carrier, but the barking of the dogs snaps your head right up.

And there he is. Your Will. His hair is overgrown, eyes tired, face a little too scruffley for his liking. He bends down to greet the eager and excited pets he hadn't seen in weeks, not noticing you yet.

Your eyes grow glassy as his name falls from your lips, that all too familiar gaze meeting yours with the biggest smile you've ever seen.

Before your mind can even fully comprehend just who is in your yard, you break out into a run to close the gap, his arms opening wide to catch what's his. And he does.

Your arms wind around his middle, clasping in a tight hold at his back as his own make a home in the crooks of your neck. His hands bury themselves in your hair before resting his cheek there. He takes in your smell, one he nearly forgot, and you can feel a small tear land in your scalp as he presses a hard kiss to the crown of your head.

You pull away, only slightly, at the feeling. But before you can wipe the thin stream from his worn face he begins to protest.

"No no no," He holds your body even tighter to his, "just hold me for a second. I'm not ready to let you go."

You do just that.

His chest rises and falls with deep breaths, a whispered fuck, I missed you being said into your hair. Your throat is still tight with emotion.

You pull away again, quickly pressing a kiss to his lips before any words of opposition, the dogs beginning to gather around you both. His are chapped, as are yours. The sweet, intimate kiss quickly grown hungry from lost time, your palms sliding up his chest to meet his overgrown curls.

The heat settles as the cool air begins to whip between the both of you, your bare legs beginning to goosebump. Will's arm finds its way around your shoulder, a kiss being planted on your forehead as he leads your little pack back into the warmth of your home.

The dogs cross the threshold, you and Will pausing once you reach the porch. His hands hold your hips softly as you take him in properly. Seeing him up close, within arms reach, you swear you almost forgot what he really looked like.

Will does the same, finally noting his clothes draped off of your frame.

"You know, I was looking for this flannel several weeks ago."

He says it with a smile, half joking and half serious. It's cut short by a lightning fast peck from your lips, you retreating inside.

"If you stick around, maybe I'll show you where I hid it."

✧˖°

My request box is currently open, lovelies! Feel free to drop a request in there (or just Hannibal chitter chatter) just please read my guidelines first :)

[juanarc-thethird]

Their first meeting.

Blake is fighting Eve. She's not doing very well. Eve swings her sword at Blake, knocking her off balance and falling to the ground.

Blake: Argh!

She screams in pain. Eve wastes no time and raises her sword again to attack.

Eve: You die here.

She brings her sword down at high speed, but is stopped by a blow to her side. Shooting it seven meters away from Blake. Angry, she turns to see where the blow came from, and sees a guy hiding behind a white shield with two golden moons in the center.

Eve: Who are you?!

She says as she gets back into her fighting stance. The guy lowers his shield a little, showing his face of determination and bravery.

Jaune: I'm Jaune Arc, and I won't let you hurt my friends.

He says with a serious look fit for a warrior. His hair is combed back from all the sweat, his clothes are somewhat worn and torn showing part of his well toned body, and his eyes shine like the ocean itself on a bright morning.

Eve:...

Eve just stands there without moving an inch.

Jaune continues looking at her for a few seconds and she still doesn't move. So he decides to do something.

Jaune: Hey.. Um…

Blake: *Still hurt* E-Eve.

Jaune: Thanks. Hey Eve...

Eve: Hm...

Jaune: Are we going to fight?

Eve: No, I'm bored now. Bye

She turns around and leaves.

Jaune: *Confuse* She's leaving?

Blake: It's better that way. *Cough Cough* She's too strong to face alone.

Jaune: I understand, but why did she leave just like that?

Blake: I honestly don't know.

Ten minutes after Eva and Jaune met for the first time.

Eve returns to her lair, grabs one of the laptops, and starts typing.

Click... Clack... Click... Click-Clack-Click-ClackClickClackClickClackClickClackClickClackClickClackClickClackClickClackClickClackCLICK!CLACK!CLICK!CLACK!CLICK!CLACK!

Adam: Hello sister, what are you doing- WHAT THE FUCK?!!

On the screen he could see very detailed information about a certain Jaune Arc. Like VERY detailed and private information: "Where does he lives, his mother's maiden name, his first pet, his exes, favorite food, shoe size, medical history, he's single" Follow by "How to make someone fall in love with you?, Nearby churches, Wedding dresses" and "How to make someone disappear?"

Adam: *Worry* Sister, do you remember the talk we had about the things you shouldn't do when you fall in love with someone?

Eve: Yeah, and...?

Adam: This is one of them.

Eve:...

Eve: Are you sure?

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 13

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason)  Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Warning! This chapter is pretty rough (I think), please check the tags for triggers before reading if you have worries. Part 13:

The plan had gone off without a hitch. The Ghost had been noticeably distracted ever since Tim had asked Jason to sit their attempts to capture him out. He’d been very grateful though that it hadn’t taken long for the Ghost to appear again in Gotham’s industrial area. Jason only had so much patience. 

Thanks to Babs’ newly upgraded cameras they’d had warning and time for everyone to get together. 

Herding the Ghost to their trap had been a cinch with him only getting away from them a few times. 

The trap was set in a dead-end alley near the power plant which had power lines running through the ground underneath. They were insulated so he wouldn’t sense them. They would only be a problem if he tried to phase through them.

The Ghost froze in place as the trap came to life with electricity every wall covered with the net. It wasn’t just electrified wire it was meant to create arcs of electricity. It needed to be visible, it needed to stop their quarry in place. Tim didn’t actually want to electrocute the guy if he could help it. 

Dick jumped down to land beside Tim and Damian, his escrima sticks ready. 

The Ghost swung around, taking everything in. Then he started to sink through the ground. It was the moment Tim had been waiting for. Everything hinged on this one theory being true; that he wasn’t just afraid of electricity, but that it would stop him from phasing through. He jumped back up with a startled yelp. 

As he turned to face them mouth a thin pressed line, Tim couldn’t help the grin of a well-executed plan.

“Gotcha.”

Finally they could get to the bottom of this! But no! Tim’s instinct warned him before his brain even registered what was happening. Something about the Ghost’s posture had changed; he was looking up, tensing his body for something. 

No!

Tim fumbled for the button, his last ditch attempt even as Dick and Damian sprung forward recognizing the look of someone about to fly. He’d tossed the EMP device earlier in the night and it had attached to the Ghost’s back. He pushed the button now. 

But the Ghost was already flying having taken off like a rocket. There was a half second delay and Tim realized with horror that even if the electromagnetic pulse did anything the Ghost was in the air. 

If it did anything he would fall. 

Oo o oO

There was a pulse like a wave of static and then Danny was dropping. 

Desperately confused he reached for his powers. Flight was as easy as breathing. Gravity was a mere suggestion. Or it should be! Nothing was happening and the roof below was coming rapidly up to meet him!

In reality it only lasted two seconds, but it felt like a terrifying eternity. His arms and legs moved uselessly; without his powers he had no control.

At the last moment he pushed his arms out. His right hand landed first, there was a sharp pain in his wrist before he curled up and rolled over his shoulder, landing on his back. Air punched out of his chest in a wheeze.

His eyes were wide staring sightlessly up at the clouds as he tried to suck air into his stunned body. He needed to get away before they found him. His core was an agitated scream in his chest. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t sink through the roof. 

He rolled up onto his knees with a pained groan, holding his right wrist protectively against his chest. Terror gripped his throat in a vice grip as he pressed his left hand flat on the concrete. He had to focus. Breathe, if he could just take a moment without panicking, he was certain he’d make his powers work. His core felt normal in his chest, they hadn’t suppressed him, not like Vlad did that one time. Frustrated tears pricked his eyes, he clenched his eyes shut, forced himself to take a deep slow breath. If he just found his calm, if he just focused…

There was not even the suggestion of any give. The roof was solid. 

Danny was solid.

There was a clatter and the high pitched whine of several grappling hooks reeling in. Danny’s head snapped up at the sound, eyes wide. He scrambled clumsily to his feet - his body felt so heavy, and his aching legs protested having to lift him.  

They gathered in a half circle around him on their near silent feet - the bats, towering shadows to his blurred eyes. Blood rushed in his ears.

Danny took a step back, barred his teeth in a snarl. 

“Don’t come closer,” he warned, the implied threat was a lie. He couldn’t do anything. He was powerless, weak as a kitten. It would be no trouble for them to capture him. But worse if they could neutralize his powers, they could hold him. Danny took another step back. 

His breath came in short, punched out huffs. Cold sweat made his hair and clothes sticky. Shadows lined in harsh white light leaned over him. Agony- No! Danny shook his head, he was not there. He stepped back, the back of his knees hit a low railing.

He would never go back. 

He turned and jumped.

Oo o oO

Tim didn’t hear any sounds but the blood rushing in his ears. He hadn’t expected the sheer panic the Ghost would have. None of them had. Not even the goggles had been able to obscure how terrified he was. His voice, the first time they’d ever heard him speak, had been thin and shaky, a hollow warning to not come closer. What was he so afraid of? They hadn’t come closer and yet-

Tim felt ill. What did he think they’d do to him, that he’d rather jump off the roof?! 

Jason had been right. He needed help. And now-

The others stood at the edge of the roof. Nobody was moving. Did that mean it was too late? There was nothing to be done?

Numbly, Tim walked up to the edge and looked down. For a moment he saw nothing, but then he caught movement further away, a flash of red- relief hit Tim in a whooshed out breath that left him weak-kneed. Jason had caught him. Tim turned around and sunk down to sit back against the railing.

He hadn’t even known Jason was out here. He must have turned off his tracker. Fuck, he was so relieved Jason had been there. 

He buried his head in his shaking hands. This was on him, his plan. 

His earlier exhilarated satisfaction of a well-executed plan was crumbled and soured, heavy in the pit of his stomach like lead. His gut turned ominously. If he threw up, it would be deserved, he thought despondently.

Oo o oO

Jason went on the Bats’ comm channel only to bark at them not to follow him. With Ghost in his arms shaking and breathing too fast and too superficial, covered in the cold sweat of terror, Jason didn’t want to know what he would do if they did follow him. 

He ran across the rooftops and used the grapple when necessary. The safehouse wasn’t too far away. 

There was utter silence from that sense where Jason usually heard Ghost’s call to him. It should be a relief not to hear his yearning and be unable to do anything about it, but it just felt wrong. Like something was missing.

Jason held him closer.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.” The words were useless, he knew that. Ghost had to be running from him for a reason even as he called for him - and Jason could understand why he’d been running from him, Jason was wrong inside, but Ghost was his only hope, and he couldn’t not chase. Right now the words were all he had, and he couldn’t let the others take him. They didn’t understand that he needed help. 

Jason’s anger over what had happened tonight was only eclipsed by his worry. Ghost might be afraid of Jason too, but not like this, not silenced by terror.

Jason repeated his useless assurances as he ran. Ghost was much too light in his arms, too thin beneath the worn clothing. Irrational fear that he would turn to dust in his arms, seized him. 

“You’re gonna be okay.” He said as much to reassure himself as Ghost.

“Please,” Ghost rasped voice unused.

Jason froze, stopping in place, hoping he’d say more. He didn’t. He pushed uselessly at Jason’s chest, still trying to escape. Jason’s heart broke. Frustrated tears pricked at his eyes.

“Please let me help you,” he pleaded. 

Jason didn’t know if his words had gotten through to him or it was just exhaustion, but he stopped struggling. Cynically, Jason leaned towards exhaustion. At this point panic and fear had to be the only thing keeping him conscious at all.

They arrived at the safehouse finally. 

It was one the others didn’t know about. Jason had a few of those as insurance. It was seemingly just a lived-in apartment, open floor plan living room and kitchen in one with artfully placed clutter, a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom. There were weapons and supplies hidden in the spaces between the real walls and the fake walls that appeared to be the apartment’s boundaries, but you’d only realize that if you checked another of the similar units in the building and noticed this one was smaller. 

Jason landed them on the sill, and worked the window open. He didn’t bother with traps, because he didn’t use it often. Using it would have been a sure way to tip off the bats of its existence. No, this and other’s like it was for emergencies, and sometimes when he needed to stash a victim or witness somewhere safe temporarily. And even if someone should try to burgle the place, Jason had some decoy money there, a large flatscreen TV and some other easily taken electronics. It was unlikely they’d find the real supplies when there were easier money. 

He maneuvered them both inside, set Ghost on the couch and closed the window and the drapes. He pulled off his helmet and set it carelessly on the coffee table - it rolled off to land on the floor. Ghost had already seen his face and hopefully, he’d respond better to a human than a mask. 

Moving slowly, trying to make himself less threatening he kneeled down on the floor in front of where Ghost had curled up in the corner of the couch.

“Hey,” Jason said trying to sound calm, when inside he was everything but. He held out his hands in peace. “I’m not doing anything, I just want to talk.”

The emotionless goggles turned towards him. Jason got nothing from him, he only had the defensive body language to read him by.

“Please say something.”

Finally something happened, Ghost’s breath hitched and he reached up to push the goggles away. His eyes were red rimmed and blurry, and they closed as he rubbed at them. Still hiding his eyes he whispered so low Jason almost didn’t hear him, “-just want to go home.”

Jason lowered his hands and slumped forward. Letting him go would be the right thing to do, Jason could argue all the way till Sunday that it wasn’t safe for him right now, with his powers out of order, but that wasn’t why Jason couldn’t promise to let him go. He desperately needed answers. How did he make the pit silent? Was it just him or was there hope for Jason?

“I have questions,” he admitted.

Ghost slowly removed his hands. His eyes were blue and wary as he looked down at Jason. Jason held his eyes and he didn’t know what he saw in Jason as the moment stretched between them, like an elastic pulled to the point just before snapping.

Ghost looked away with a pained expression, and then, unfurling slowly, Jason felt that familiar yearning. Jason shook his head helplessly. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help but didn’t know what to do.

“What do you need?” Jason asked.

Ghost looked back up momentarily and then away with a grimace. Shrinking in on himself. “Hey,” Jason said, frustration made him snappy, “I’m just trying to understand! It’s like you’re calling me, but I don’t know how to answer.”

That got Ghost’s attention, and his head snapped up holding his gaze intently.

“You can feel it?” He asked, and there’s this underlying desperate hope, shoved down by a voice desperately trying to hold steady.

“I can, and I just-“ He didn’t know what else to say, instead he reached out a hand to cup Ghost’s cheek. His eyes were wide and liquid and so blue before he clenched them shut and leaned into Jason’s touch with a small whimper. Jason didn’t dare breathe, as that small hum started, the one that was like a purr. Jason’s head was silent now, the underlying anger and frustration gone. In this moment he was just Jason. 

He didn’t even realize he was crying until tears spilled over his cheeks. He ducked his head. It had been some very long weeks. 

“How are you doing this?” He whispered, desperate to know. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Ghost answered hesitantly. 

Jason looked up to meet his tired eyes, the dark bags underneath his eyes were so dark and stark in his thin face he looked bruised. Jason looked away. Shame curled in his gut for pushing him this far. For being helpless not to give chase. He would have pulled his hand back if Ghost hadn’t still been leaning into his touch.

Quietly, he admitted, “I have this rage inside of me, you quiet it.”

“Hmm,” Ghost hummed thoughtfully with his actual voice, as he mulled over Jason’s words. “I’m pretty useless right now without my powers, so I don’t know if it’s anything I can help with permanently.”

“Okay,” Jason said quietly. Trapped in this strange bubble of quiet, desperate to break it he asked, “Do you wanna talk about what happened on the rooftop?”

The purring came to a stuttering halt. 

“That’s a no then,” Jason stated. Of course he didn’t want to talk about that, that should have gone without saying. Stupid. He sighed and stood up, drawing his hand back along with it.

“I’m just getting on the couch,” he assured when Ghost protested wordlessly. He sat down leaning heavily into the plush couch. After a moment he lifted his arm in invite. It took five long seconds before Ghost tucked himself underneath the arm. Jason squeezed him momentarily in a pitiful attempt at comfort, but it was all he could do. 

It took a moment but the purr started up again. The feeling of contentment washed over him.

Jason didn’t know how long he sat there, letting Ghost’s purr soothe his frayed mind, but he sat there so long he started to feel the temptation to just close his eyes and sleep. That wasn’t helpful. Ghost himself had fallen asleep at some point, he discovered, as he shifted and found him blinking awake startled. 

The purring stopped. Wary eyes watched him as he moved away.

“Easy,” Jason said lowly as if he actually was trying to soothe a feral cat, “I’m just gonna check to see what food options we have.” 

He watched until Ghost leaned back into the couch. His eyes were mere slits watching Jason when he turned towards the kitchen. 

Ghost needed to eat and making food was definitely more useful than falling asleep. He walked over to the cupboards, and couldn’t help but yawn as he did so. He opened the cupboards one by one, searching for something easy. A lot of the things here had technically expired and were mostly there for appearance sake. The dried herbs and spices, had probably lost most of their flavor, so actually cooking was out of the question, not to mention he didn’t have fresh ingredients here, but one of the canned soups would probably do fine. 

He turned, tomato soup can in hand to ask if that was fine only to find the couch empty. Carefully he set the can down, so he wasn’t tempted to throw it. His hand clenched into a fist reflexively with no can to hold. He walked over to the living room side of the room, just to make sure he hadn’t just moved. 

He wasn’t there.

He was gone.

Jason sighed and sat down heavily on the couch. Of course he was.

Nothing had been disturbed, not the drapes nor the windows. Everything was exactly as Jason had left it. His powers must have returned. Whatever Tim had done hadn’t been that long lasting, a couple of hours at most. He would have simply gone right through the wall.

Of course he had left as soon a he had a chance. Jason hadn’t given him reason to stay. He’d had his chance to talk and he’d wasted it just sitting and basking in his presence.

He leaned his forehead on his hands and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

He only had himself to blame.

-

So this happened... this is better/worse? At least they got to hug?

Anyways, I think I may go back to shorter tumblr parts now that these two chapters are done (if you're curious this is chapter 7 and 8 in my doc and that's what they'll be on Ao3). The last chapter really couldn't be split and this chapter only had terrible places to split it. Better to end on sad Jason.

You can subscribe over on the masterlist

Update: next

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 197 }

me and you

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ we’re the new face of failure | prettier and younger, but not any better off | bulletproof loneliness, at best, at best… }

your heart was pounding with anxiety when your teacher began passing back your exam for algebra 2. your palms were sweating, and you felt nauseous at the thought of seeing your score.

his humming was heard, and the moment you saw your teacher completely eclipsing your form from prying eyes was when you knew you had failed. your test was flipped on its back, but from the sheer amount of red marks seen, you knew that the grade couldn’t possibly have been a passing one.

your heart was still felt thrumming against the base of your throat when you slowly turned it over-

revealing a 50% marked in bolded ink along with a message that read, ‘come see me after class.’

you internally groan, feeling the tears threaten to well up in your eyes as the frustration began to mount against you. it wasn’t like you didn’t study-

math was just an atrocious subject for you, and that fact will never change.

once the final bell rang, you wait for the students to head out first, their laughter and carefree attitude seeming to put a damper on your mood as you begrudgingly stepped closer to your teacher’s desk. he pushes up his glasses while keeping his hands folded on top of some assignments. he says your name in a gentle manner while meeting your gaze, taking note of the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes.

“now, i’m not upset with you. i just worry that you won’t understand the concepts well enough; that you may fail this course. because this is just our first exam, i’m willing to give you another chance.”

you give him a grateful smile and begin wiping away your tears. “thank you so much sir! so, what do i need to do?”

your teacher considers your words before telling you, “if you can correct every question you missed on this exam and turn it back into me by tomorrow, i’ll give you a passing score of 80%.”

upon listening to his explanation, the hope of a second chance was immediately ripped away from you, making the tears nearly drop from your eyes once more. before you could start bawling, your teacher suddenly lifts a hand to stop you. “now wait a moment, i wouldn’t be cruel enough to make you do this on your own. there is one young man who scored a perfect 100% on this exam, and i am going to enlist his help right now.”

he focuses his attention on someone settled behind you before calling out his name, making your heart practically freeze in response upon hearing the syllables that made up his name.

“sung jinwoo, could you please help this young woman and tutor her over the concepts covered in exam 1 along with correcting her answers?”

you look back to see the said boy with perfectly styled ebony locks of hair and stormy eyes meet your gaze. he was simply conversing with his friends when the teacher called out to him. he looks back to see your wide eyed gaze before giving you a beaming smile.

“sure, i don’t mind helping her at all.”

and it was at that exact moment you knew you were screwed-

because you had the biggest crush on jinwoo the world has ever known-

today was not going to end well.

he says his goodbyes to his friends before coming closer to you, running a hand over his hair as you had to look up to meet his gaze. despite being only 16 years old, he still towered over you (and over 95% of your classmates), making you wonder just how he had gotten so tall.

“my apartment is a little cluttered, and my sister may have gotten home from school, too. if it’s alright with you, can we head to your place instead?”

you give him a stiff nod, trying to keep your expression neutral and your voice even as you walked out of class together with him. he remains close to you, hands being shoved within the pockets of his coat. he maintains a safe distance from you, but didn’t stand so far away that you couldn’t admire his features up close. he was focused on the scenery that passes by from your periphery, and a part of you felt a deep sense of guilt for potentially wasting his time.

���jinwoo?”

he lets out a hum of your name, “yes?”

the sound of your name coming from his lips makes you shiver, nearly making you do a double take when you shake your head to help with calming down, letting out a sigh. “i’m sorry, i didn’t wish to put a damper on your plans or anything. it’s just… i have always been bad at math.”

jinwoo lets out a rich chuckle, “i know, but i never once minded it.”

a strange sense of nostalgia was felt coursing through you, halting you in your steps as you looked back at him to see his gentle smile. you kept opening and closing your mouth, unsure of what to make of the strange familiarity of his words. jinwoo ends up shaking his head before telling you, “don’t take this the wrong way, i just meant to say that i don’t mind helping you out, so it’s no trouble at all.”

satisfied with his reassurance, you visibly relax and continue your trek back home, unaware of the knowing smirk that paints jinwoo’s features as he keeps his eyes on your back, stepping in line from close behind you, as if wishing to shield you from any potential dangers.

after spending some time walking, you finally arrive in your neighborhood, heading towards your house as you placed a hand on your front door and unlocked it, allowing jinwoo to enter first. a casual smile paints his features when he thanks you, entering your home while taking off his shoes.

“my parents are still at work, so we’ll be by ourselves for the most part, if that’s okay with you…?”

jinwoo simply shrugs before gesturing at you, “it’s no problem at all. lead the way.”

you both end up being settled on your dining room table along with some snacks and bottles of cold water. jinwoo then starts spreading out his notebooks, pens, and calculator throughout the table before taking a seat next to you. he asks to see your exam with a sweet smile, and you hand it to him, still feeling shaky at the thought of your crush potentially judging you.

instead, he simply hums while moving his seat so that he was closer to you.

“it’s okay, i see your work, and you got very close to the right answer. your steps were just mixed up, that’s all.”

his voice remained kind and calm, never once becoming agitated with you as he slowly guided you through each problem that you missed. a few hours pass, and when you saw that you managed to correct all of the questions that you missed you couldn’t stop the wide grin from spreading across your face.

“oh my god, jinwoo, i did it!”

his grey eyes shine with mirth, “of course. i had no doubt in my mind that you could do it. you just needed some clarification and a gentle push in the right direction.”

when jinwoo was done commending you, he lets out a happy sigh before uncapping a bottle of water, taking a huge swig of it. as you put away your corrected exam, you couldn’t help but keep your gaze on jinwoo, watching the way his adam’s apple bobbed with each sip of water that he takes.

you were mesmerized at the sight of him, unable to look away as your eyes seemed to follow a single droplet of water as it made its descent from his lips all the way down to the base of his throat. he stops drinking from his water bottle moments later, now smirking at you when he asks, “what are you staring at?”

an undignified squeak was heard coming from you as you quickly look away from him, your features completely flustered as you found it difficult to meet his tranquil gaze. “it’s nothing! uhm…”

jinwoo lets out another rich chuckle when he puts his empty water bottle away before asking you. “have i shown you my favorite formula for algebra? i promise you, its helped me through many tough situations, and i’m sure it can help you, too.”

feeling grateful that he changed the subject, such talk of this amazing formula was enough to make your eyes go wide. “y-yes! please, show me this formula… if you don’t mind…”

jinwoo gives you a nod before leaning closer to you, taking a hold of your notebook as he opens it to a fresh page before uncapping his pen. it was then that he began writing against the lines in a neat script:

me + you = ♡

your heart rate becomes slightly erratic as your breath hitches in response. you meet with jinwoo’s gaze, seeing the look of adoration in them when he leans closer to you, not saying a word as he proved his feelings for you in a slow and sweet kiss.

you feel him smiling against your lips, causing a strange warmth to fill and course through your veins. jinwoo’s gaze never once strays too far away from you when he pulls away from you and admits, “you’ve always been on my mind. ever since the moment i first saw you, i wanted nothing more than to protect you… and keep you by my side.”

you wanted oh so desperately to tell him how much you liked him-

how you had always felt so strongly about him and basked in the way he made you feel-

but sadly, you knew that mere words alone would never be sufficient enough to convey your feelings for sung jinwoo.

so you did the next best thing-

you surge forward to capture his lips in another searing kiss, and upon hearing the way jinwoo lets out a soft growl of your name before returning your kiss, you didn’t think he minded your wordless declaration one bit.

a.n. omg i have such a block for jinwoo, but i’m trying; i’m trying so hard to balance everything and not have sylus taking over my life, currently unedited but i’ll make corrections later once this is posted 😭🙌🏻 there might be a double update since man i can’t get sylus out of my head lol ooops

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.