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ghost-with-a-teacup · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐈)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: After you reveal the truth of what your relationship really was between you and Miguel, everyone's keen on learning more. So what better way to give a little more insight than a dinner at your shared home?

Warnings: None~ Just back again with silly shenanigans and the softest of fluff :3

A/N: Hello, everyone! After the first part of 'What's In Between' blew up (you can read it here, thank you so much by the way, you're all so sweet), many people have asked for a part two, so here it is! Enjoy <3

The moment you break the news to them, the volume of the table booms to a fever pitch as everyone begins talking at the same time.

“W-WHAT?!”

“Married? No way,” Hobie says.

“How long have you been together?” Pavitr asks.

“I can��t say I saw this coming…” Miles says, eyes widening in surprise.

Miguel had been watching you the moment you snuck up on the group, but with the newfound panic from everyone he couldn’t help but make his way over to the commotion.

“You’re all being loud, what are you yelling about now?” Miguel asks, walking over and standing by your side.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL US YOU WERE MARRIED?!” Gwen shouts.

“You never asked,” he blinks, “and also, it’s none of your business.”

“Miguel, as your best friend I am deeply offended that you haven’t told me after this long, does our friendship mean nothing to you?” Peter says, hand on his chest in pretend hurt.

“You are not my best friend,” Miguel deadpans.

“After I opened up to you no less, I mean, you were the first person I told about Mayday! All the details-” he continues, ignoring the comment.

“Not by choice,” he mutters.

“Does no one know about this?? At all???” Pavitr asks, “I mean, you two are married.”

“I mean, Jess knows about it,” you gesture, and she only grins.

“And now all of you do too,” Miguel sighs. “Vida mía, I thought we talked about this,” he admonishes.

“Oh, c’mon, it was cute how they were all trying to figure it out for so long. I was starting to feel bad,” you say, smoothing your hair back. He only stares at you for a moment before sighing.

“Fine,” he relents, “Can’t do anything about it now anyway.” He smiles softly at you, and the group watches in awe as their cold leader softens in your presence, but his gaze quickly grows dark as he turns back to the group.

“One word of this to anyone outside of this group,” he says with a pointed finger before trailing off, allowing everyone to fill in the blanks as to what he might do.

Everyone’s faces pale like a sheet at the unnamed threat (well, except for Hobie, he only watches with blatant amusement on his face), but you only laugh.

“Miguel, don’t threaten the kids,” you giggle. “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite,” you whisper to them with a wink.

“Hey, that’s what I say!” Peter says.

“You are his best friend after all,” you grin.

“I have never said those words a day in my life,” he scoffs, but you ignore him, eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Oh! I have a lovely idea, how about you all swing by our place for dinner later? We never have guests,” you suggest.

Gwen gasps, “Really?”

“This…maybe doesn’t seem like the best idea,” Miles says as he shrinks down in his seat at Miguel’s glare towards you.

“I have plans tonight…though I don’t think they’d mind if I cancel,” Hobie says nonchalantly, but everyone knew there was no way in hell he’d miss something like this.

“What am I, cat litter?” Jess asks. She was the only person to have been at your shared home, having joined around the same time as you, and being one of the few people Miguel fully trusts.

“You know it's not like that, Jess,” you turn to her with a grin.

“Absolutely not, it's already a liability that they know querida, now you want them traipsing into our home?” Miguel argues, and you narrow your eyes at him, never one to back down from a fight. While it got on his nerves, it's what he loved about you too. He needed someone that wouldn’t take his shit.

“Miguel,” you say, giving him a look. “All our enemies are literally in alternate universes who, aside from those small tears, have no way to go cross-dimensional, let alone find us in the expanse of a universe. Besides, I think it would be nice,” you say, and Mayday seems to agree since she climbs right up into your arms, babbling happily.

“And don’t think I don’t know you have a soft spot for this lil ragtag team,” you smile, bouncing up and down as Mayday laughs.

He huffs, “I am anything but soft, especially for them. They never listen, don’t follow protocol, are immature, and the list goes on.”

“He’s lying,” you whisper, covering your mouth from his direction as though that would stop him from happening. Mayday grabs your hand though, playing with your fingers happily. “See how his ears are turning red?”

At that, his ears turn more red and the group tries to stifle their snickers to no avail.

“Querida,” he warns. “Do you feel the need to share anything else about me? Or have you had enough,” he asks, poking your shoulder. You place a hand on his bicep with a gentle smile, and his expression softens much to his dismay.

“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you grin. “Alright, it’s settled then! You’re all coming over tonight.”

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, preparing the food for dinnertime when everyone would be coming over.

Then, you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck as a familiar presence makes himself known, strong arms wrapping around your waist as his head rests on top of yours.

“Vida mía, the food smells good,” he says softly before sighing. “But I’m not very happy with you today.”

You let out a sigh of your own as you turn off the stove before turning around in his arms to face him.

“Miguel, my love,” you say, smoothing out the collar of the pullover he wore before looking up at him. “I know you well, don’t I?”

“More than anyone,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest amount as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Then it’s safe to assume that you’ve been wanting to hang out with more people in the Society apart from work-related things?” you ask, placing your hand on his chest.

“I can’t afford anything like that in this line of work, you know that querida,” he sighs, that familiar hardened look in his eyes for a moment.

“Miguel, your only friends can’t be me, Lyla and Jess,” you pout.

“Vida mía, you are my wife,” he says.

“Yes, and it's miracle enough that I was able to grow close enough to you to get to that point,” you chuckle, “so my existence in your life is proof itself that you are capable of growing close to people. I’ve seen you, I think you’re ready and deep down I know you don’t always want to be perceived as the cold and unfeeling leader of the Society. Why not start with them?”

“That’s not a decision for you to make,” he says, glancing away from you.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling a bit guilty that you threw Miguel into this without warning. “I should have spoken to you about it first but who knows. Maybe this is a good thing, opening your heart a little more,” you explain. “Don’t think I realize you’re the hardest on them because you believe in them,” you smile.

He huffs before pausing to think for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder when you snuck your little way into my head, querida.”

“Admit it, you’re growing soft,” you giggle softly.

“Never,” he counters, tickling your side which makes you scrunch up your face as you laugh breathlessly.

“OKAY! Okay, you’re one soft fluffy teddy bear, happy?” you say which only makes him continue with even more fervour.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I think I have ever heard you say, querida,” he snorts but finally relents.

“Yeah….I can’t even say that with a serious face,” you chuckle. “But you do have your moments, tough guy,” you smile, leaning up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. That’s when the doorbell rings, and immediately your eyes light up.

“Oh! They’re here!!” you say excitedly, escaping from his grasp as you move to open up the door.

“Here we go,” he murmurs to himself, and you turn to face him.

“What was that?” you ask.

“Nothing, vida mía,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes in disbelief.

“Behave, Miguel,” you tell him.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he replies, and you grin before opening up the front door.

There, you find Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter (alongside Mayday of course), Hobie and Jess all standing outside, chatting amongst themselves before turning to you.

Miles almost looks like he’s in disbelief like he couldn’t really believe this was your home quite yet.

“Hi!” Gwen starts.

“Took you lot long enough,” Hobie says. “Was starting to think we'd have to build a fire and cook it ourselves.” Gwen punches his shoulder, to which he lets out a little “Ow!”

“Sorry about him,” Gwen apologizes.

You just find yourself laughing at it all though.

“No apologies needed, we were a little preoccupied. Come on in, make yourself at home,” you say, opening the door a little wider for them to make their way through.

“Not too at home though,” you hear Miguel say, leaning into the foyer from the living room, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ignore him,” you say, giving him a pointed look to which he just stares at you blankly. “Dinner will be ready soon, I just have to set the table and we can eat, alright?”

“It smells delicious,” Pavitr says, “I’m starving.”

Mayday seems to agree as she crawls up from the baby carrier onto Peter’s head, making grabby hands from the top.

“Someone’s hungry,” Peter chuckles. “Got anything she can eat?”

“I have a few things, don’t worry,” you smile.

“It really does smell really good though, but it always does,” Jess adds.

“It’s nothing special,” you say sheepishly. “Just some of Miguel’s favourites.”

You guide them all into the living room. “Settle in! I’ll be done in a snap,” you say.

As you make your way back to the kitchen (with Jess joining you to help out), back in the living room the squad of spiders settle in almost hesitantly, a watchful eye monitoring all of their reactions.

No one dares say anything, only sitting around nervously.

“So…nice weather we’re having,” Peter says, trying to lighten the mood but even Mayday gives him a deadpanned expression.

Miguel sighs. “You’re all acting like there’s a ticking time bomb waiting for you to speak before setting off,” he says, still leaning up against the doorway.

“We don’t know, mate. Is there?” Hobie jokes, but Miles’ face drops anyway.

“There isn’t, for the record. I can be harsh but I’m not evil,” Miguel scoffs before making eye contact with Pavitr who looks like he wanted to ask something but was holding back.

“One question,” he says simply with a nod.

“How long have you two been together?”

“…a little over 4 years now,” he replies.

“How did you meet?” Gwen asks.

“I said one question,” he says before your voice cuts in.

“My universe was one of the first he visited! He hated me back then, though,” you laugh as you walk back in. “Speaking of which!! I have some things you might all want to see after dinner,” you grin mischievously.

“I thought you said I was the one that had to behave, mi corazón,” Miguel says, a warning tone in his voice.

“And I am, aren’t I?” you say, poking his side playfully. “Anyway, dinner’s ready,” you say, leading them to the dining room. “I know it's not much but-”

“How in the hell is this not much??” Hobie exclaims, and you just shrug. “You should see dinner with my family, then you will think that it’s not much,” you say with a chuckle.

On the table sat a wide expanse of food, all of Miguel’s favourites from Mexico. Empanadas as the appetizer, alongside pozole, ceviche, enchiladas, and chicken with mole poblano all served with a side of rice, beans, or homemade corn tortillas depending on each person’s preference.

You can see Miguel’s eyes visibly brighten as he looks at the food, settling in at the head of the table with you by his side.

“Come eat!” As you say that, everyone sits down before beginning to eat, everyone heading straight to what appealed to them the most.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Miles says, eyes closed in bliss.

“Oye, don’t let your Mother hear that, kid,” Miguel says, but the corner of his lip was upturned in the tiniest of smiles. The most he would allow himself around this many people.

“Thank you, Miles,” you smile.

“This, uhh, how do you say it again? Poh-zuhl?” Gwen asks, and you laugh out loud as she turns pink, meanwhile both Miguel and Miles cringe slightly.

“I’m sorry for laughing, sweetheart. You’re almost there; it’s pronounced like ‘poh-zoh-lay’,” you say kindly.

“Ohh, okay gotcha. Pozole. It’s really good! Feels…comforting, almost,” she says.

“Yes,” you say, glancing at your husband with a soft smile, “it’s Miguel’s favourite. Says it ‘tastes like home’.” A chorus of ‘awws’ go around the table, while Miguel only holds the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Alright, alright. Enough with the cheesy stuff, let’s get back to eating, yeah?” Hobie says before shoving his fork back into his mouth.

Once dinner was finished (and after both Miles and Gwen insisted that they did the dishes despite much argument from you), everyone was settled again in the living room laughing and talking together, and while Miguel only said a few things here and there and sat by your side like a lost puppy, he did seem to be enjoying himself.

“Alright! Now, before everyone goes back home, I have one more thing I’d like to show you,” you say once it quiets down a bit. Standing up, you make your way over to a large bookshelf you and Miguel had built together when you first moved in together.

“I’ve gotten tired of having only myself to show these photos to, so this is the perfect opportunity,” you smile.

“Querida-” Miguel says, holding out a hand to block your way but you look at him with pleading eyes, and he can’t do anything but relent. He couldn’t say no when you looked at him like that.

With a triumphant ‘haha!’ you grab a photo album labelled with a date and a single word; ‘Ours’.

Everyone crowds around as you place it down on the coffee table, and you open it up to the first page.

Gwen is the one that gasps first, eyes wide with awe.

“You both look so beautiful,” she says softly.

There, front and centre was a photo of you and Miguel on your wedding day. You were smiling wide at the camera, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand while Miguel only looked at you with an expression so in awe it was as though you painted the stars in the sky.

“You clean up nicely, big man,” Hobie comments, and Pavitr nods.

“Weddings, my favourite,” Jess says, a fond expression on her face as she thinks back to her own husband.

“I had a bird fly into my face at my wedding…but they are nice,” Peter says, rocking Mayday gently as she naps away after the hearty dinner even despite the commotion.

You continue to flip through the photobook, pausing periodically for a little anecdote about each one. Miguel had long stood up to make room for everyone else, but he looked at you in the same way he did on your wedding day.

Like you were the light of his life, the one good thing he had amongst the millions of universes parallel to his own. Like you were his everything.

“Admit it, you like them,” you smile, the house finally quiet after everyone headed home. He only rolls his eyes before pulling you into his lap, his face going into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

“There is a big difference between ‘liking’ and ‘tolerating’, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing circles into your hip soothingly.

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Whatever you say,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and settling into his touch with a happy sigh.

You both sit there for a moment in silence, the two of you weren’t ones to fill silence with mindless chatter. If words needn’t be said then they weren’t.

“That was…nice, though,” he admits softly after a little while.

“I know,” you whisper.

“That won’t happen again for a long while though,” he says, pulling away to look at you, crimson eyes pleading with you wordlessly.

You can’t do anything but laugh.

Taglist (for those who requested a part two): @lotustv @mars-ifuknowmeirlplsgoaway @elliewilliamsactualgf @randomhumans-blog @iluvkonig @phillygraves @gothgirlziez

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #marvel

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ifwebefriends · 10 months ago

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My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

#Bluey #bluey the sign #meme #Bluey heeler #rad heeler #bandit heeler #chilli heeler #baby race #my ramblings #my rambles #frisky heeler #brandy cattle #spoilers #bluey the sign spoilers #bluey spoilers

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sinsofsummers · 2 years ago

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sensational

6.9k | joel miller & f!innocent!reader part two

this comes from this request. a few liberties were taken with the details (the reader knows that sex exists, but not much else), just fyi!

summary: thanks to becoming an orphan at age 13, you've lived the rest of your life oblivious to all the world can offer. now that you're in jackson, joel miller ignites something in you that only he can give answers to. warnings: slight angst (mentions of parent loss), innocent!fem!reader, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 25), kind of pervy!joel, smut (18+, mdni!!!), fingering, grinding, reader watches old pornos with joel, slight praise kink, no use of y/n. note: i planned originally to have this be just one part, but even though it ends in a way that i like, i could maybe be convinced to write a second part teehee (part two coming soon!)

You used to love the rain. The way it cascaded down your skin in little droplets, cleansing your body from a hard day's work, and the way it made your hair look so perfectly disheveled.

You craved the rain, until it became nothing but a reminder of the night your parents died.

It had been years at this point, but you would never quite forget how young, and small, and unsuspecting you'd been when they told you to run. How cruel, that time might pass, you might change, but with one smattering of rain, you returned so swiftly to the worst night of your life.

The three of you had been living alone, making your way...somewhere, but they never told you where. Your parents' only wish was to keep you safe, that much was clear. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that upon an ambush by at least ten clickers, after both your parents had been infected, that they'd insist that you run.

"Please, darling," your mother had pleaded, a lump in her throat as she formed the words. "Don't make me beg. I need you to run. Promise?"

Your father was somewhere else, but you could hear him yelling in the distance, in a fight for his life. You were too young, even at thirteen, to understand that those were the sounds of a dying man.

"I'll be right behind you," she'd choked on the last phrase, and in hindsight, you knew she was lying. But in the moment, you'd believed her. You couldn't see the bite she was hiding on her arm, her fate already sealed. "I'll come for you, my love," she insisted, "but I need you to go. Head for the woods."

It was the last time you saw her. You'd turned tail and had run as fast as you could for the woods.

The last thing you heard was a gunshot. A single shot, echoing around you in the trees. It may have been impossible to know, but you didn't need to turn back. Your parents were dead.

If you hadn't found Jackson, who knows how long you might have lasted. Nearing your twenty-first year, you'd proven valuable to the community, and they'd welcomed you in. Jackson was the first home you'd had since you were five.

It hadn't occurred to you that you were years behind your peers in terms of...well, everything, until you met Joel.

Rugged, tan, and sporting a perpetual frown paired with an ever-present crease between his brows, Joel Miller was your patrol partner. You weren't exactly sure why, and he didn't seem particularly pleased about it, but then again—he never seemed particularly pleased about anything.

It hadn't struck you as anything to be proud of, or to boast about to the other young women in Jackson, but they certainly loved coming up to you and expressing their jealousy when they felt so inclined.

"What's he like on patrol?" they'd ask, their eyes wide and lips curled in smirks as they waited for any insight you could give them on his mysterious personality.

All you could ever say over the next four years was a quick, "He's quiet."

Maybe that was why the two of you worked well. He wasn't much of a talker, and after you'd lost your parents, you hadn't been one to waste any breath on conversation, especially when you had survived alone with your own thoughts for almost eight years.

Silence was your mutual understanding. No talking meant no questions, and no questions meant no problems.

And this worked. Until it didn't.

-- -- --

It started like anything started. Quietly, hardly a bother, until it sank into the marrow of your bones and demanded that you address it.

More literally, it started in your shoulders. You'd been on patrol with Joel, a quiet, "Let's go," his only words to you that morning. They were his only words to you every morning, and that day was no different.

Patrolling with him was easy. Like you'd said—no talking, so no problems. You rode next to each other on your respective horses, and there was nothing more than a glance or two toward each other when necessary. It was the only form of communication that the two of you shared.

His big brown eyes had always startled you, looking so inviting in the contrast of the white snow during the winter, but they never showed you more than he allowed you to see. And all you saw of Joel was his dedication to sleep, patrol, eat, and repeat.

You hadn't felt the desire to look that closely at him until some of the girls in Jackson asked you how big his hands were, or what he looked like up close.

"You know," one of them had crooned, not realizing you were unsure of their intentions, "what does he look like without that big old coat on?"

You'd shrugged. "Why should I know?"

Another one wiggled her eyebrows. "Doesn't it get...lonely out there? Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company?"

The faces of those girls, the glint in their eyes, it was something you couldn't quite decipher, as much as you wished you could. So one day, you'd asked the man himself what it all meant.

When you said it for the first time, it was so quiet that you could hardly even hear yourself.

Joel grunted, the only indication that he'd heard you.

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't find a reason why. This was just Joel. He seemed to know everything there was to know about life; surely he could help you understand this. "Why do the girls in town keep asking me what it's like to patrol with you?"

He didn't answer for a second, but then shrugged. "They botherin' you?"

"No." You weren't quite sure that was true, and knowing him, he could probably hear the lie in your voice. "They're just kind of...belligerent."

His eyebrow cocked. "S'a big word," he mused. "Sure you know what it means?"

Your cheeks grew hot. "Yes," you insisted sharply. "I do read, you know."

He murmured a response, but the wind carried it away from you. You rode in silence for a bit longer before he said, "Don't let those girls get in your head. I think they just wanna get a rise outta you."

"A rise?"

Joel nodded and brought his horse to a routine stop. This was where the two of you always stretched your legs. He reached up to help you down your own mount and set you on the ground gingerly. "You know," he said, as if you should know, but with no regard for the fact that you didn't. "You're still kinda new here. Seems they're still pretty dead-set on embarrassin' you."

"I'm not embarrassed," you insisted again. "I just...is there a joke I'm not getting?"

"Any reason you chose to talk so much today?" was his only answer, which made your stomach clench.

There was no reason for you to be offended, as it was your typical routine to remain quiet unless absolutely necessary, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved downward. "Sorry," you mumbled, "forget I asked."

He was quiet again as the two of you walked at least two hundred paces, stretching out your sore muscles in the snow. It used to be comforting, the silence. It wasn't maddening, it didn't ever bother you if Joel was in his thoughts. You weren't even sure at times if he had any. But all that had changed now; his brow creased more than it usually did, and you wanted nothing more than to ask him what he was thinking.

Joel was the one constant in your life now. Maybe it was a—well, probably it was a trauma response from losing your parents, but you couldn't help it. You didn't need much from anyone, just someone to stay. Joel was strong enough to take care of himself and was smart enough not to make any rash decisions. As far as you could tell, he'd stay.

So how could you be so embarrassed by asking these questions?

"I forgot how long you said you were...alone out there," his grunting voice filled the space between you once more. It was quiet, and he sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to speak.

"Since I was thirteen," you said mechanically, so familiar with others in Jackson asking the same question.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "And you're how old?"

"Twenty-five," you said, feeling oddly small in his presence.

He shook his head. "That's a long time to be alone," he muttered, blowing out a breath.

You huffed. "Yeah, well, I survived. And besides, I've been here for four years now, you know."

"I know."

Again, the silence. Infuriating.

Then, you couldn't help it. "What's...'spooning,' and why do those girls ask me if we've done it?"

Joel stumbled, reaching out for balance. His hand found purchase on your shoulder, and you caught him awkwardly. "You don't even know what spooning is?" He sounded incredulous, as if you'd asked a juvenile question.

The warmth from his hand was astonishing, and distracted you from your embarrassment, if only for a moment. It sank through his glove into your coat, and down toward your skin. Something about the weight of his hand on your shoulder, even for a second as he removed it quickly, was enough to send you spiraling.

Your face burned. "Never mind," you said quietly and mounted your horse again. How stupid could you get? You scolded yourself. You'd ventured too far into this conversation, and now you didn't know how to get yourself out of it. "I was just...never mind. We should get back."

He nodded, but his face still looked somewhat pinched. "Yeah. S'getting dark."

The sun was still up. No intention of sinking beneath the horizon for at least a few hours. You rode again in uncomfortable silence, this time letting it fill the space. You foolishly thought that maybe if you were quiet long enough, he'd forget that you'd made a fool of yourself, that you'd exposed yourself to the truth: that you knew hardly anything about...anything except for survival instincts.

When Joel spoke again, it surprised you. "I didn't mean to tease ya," he said. "It's just kind of a surprise that you're not...that you don't..." he looked over at you, and there was some type of pleading in his eyes, as if he were begging you not to make him say it.

"That I don't what?" you said dumbly, hoping you didn't sound as childish as you felt.

He pondered his next words carefully, and then he hummed, "If you want, I could...teach you some stuff."

"Like spooning?" You felt a warmth in your face as you watched his shoulders hunch with a soft laughter. Your own shoulder burned where he'd touched it, and something bloomed in your gut.

He chuckled. "I don't know about all that," he said, "but I'll help you get...back on track. Would hate for someone to take advantage of your...innocence." It sounded sinful, the way he said it, and the something in your gut pulsed.

"You don't have to," you shook your head, but you didn't even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. "I'll just ask someone else."

"Darlin', don't trust anyone else to give you straight answers. I'm older'n half of everyone in Jackson, anyway." He flashed you a look. "I'll help. Whatever you want to know."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your stomach turning strangely. "Anything?"

He nodded dutifully, but his eyes had already left yours. Joel Miller, ever the professional. "Whatever you want."

-- -- --

Joel liked to consider himself someone who would never again suffer the shock of surprises. After having lived through and seen more shit than any normal person could, he thought he'd experienced it all.

That is, until her pretty lips had opened and asked him to teach her about all she'd missed. Until she asked him to teach her.

He hadn't really seen her as the picture of innocence until he'd heard how long she'd been alone, surviving with no one and nothing besides her own thoughts and the clothes on her back.

The least her parents could do was teach her how to shoot, he'd thought when he first met her. It was a curiosity that was quickly resolved, as she'd proven herself valuable to Jackson.

Tommy had wasted no time putting them on patrol together. "It'll be good for you," his brother had reasoned when he brought up concerns. "You know, to talk to someone out there. I know she's on the young side, but you don't gotta fall in love with her." He'd flashed an apologetic smile when Joel had scowled. "You're scarin' everyone, Joel. Bein' all quiet and shit...it's—"

"It's what?" he'd asked gruffly. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm a grown man."

This was all true, and he very much didn't do it on purpose. With no one around whom he deemed worthy of his conversation, Joel Miller had become the quiet, introspective version of himself that everyone decided to become scared of all of a sudden.

The way he saw things? It wasn't his fault everyone in Jackson was boring. Or childish.

But her. With her unmistakable will to survive and those eyes that could burn fierce with ire one moment, and soften with curiosity the next...it was only a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever she asked.

He should have seen it coming, especially considering her past. Every time he thought of just how...unsuspecting she was about...everything, he had to shake his head, clearing it of any thoughts that threatened to take advantage of her.

But being ignorant of spooning. He had to clear his throat every time he thought of what that might mean for himself in this particular arrangement. If she knew nothing of something so...palatable, he could hardly help himself when thinking of what else she might be unaware of.

He tried to be patient, and he tried to be respectful, but at the end of the day, he was Joel Miller. From the moment she looked at him with those wide eyes, he was lost.

-- -- --

"What I would give to give that man the ride of his life," one of the girls next to you hummed at breakfast the next morning, her eyes presumably glued to Joel, who'd just come into the cafeteria. You didn't look up at him, instead casting a confused glance toward the girl who'd spoken.

"Ride where?" You cursed your quick instinct to ask questions, as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. Face burning, you looked down again at your plate. "Never mind," came your almost instantaneous response. You were getting used to having to apologize for your ignorance, and people rarely—especially not these girls—offered their kindness.

One of the other girls snickered. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway," she said, smiling widely. Her next words were nothing short of a drawl, the complete essence of mockery. "'Joel, what's it mean to ride?'" she pinched her face in what you assumed was an impression of you, and it only made your eyebrows furrow despite your stomach sinking in utter horror.

And then there he was. He'd called your name, and now he was standing behind your left shoulder, hand outstretched to save you.

You were sure his hand had never looked quite as appealing as it did now. The calluses on his palm were raised and visibly rough. For a moment, you stared at his fingers and wondered what they might feel like against your cheek.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, that something arose in your gut once more before you heard him murmur your name again.

"Come on," he grunted, but there was a gentleness to it that made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Time to go."

The girls at your table were silent when you took his hand gingerly and let him lead you from the cafeteria. You noted the swift wave of cold that hit your hand as soon as he dropped it, just a second later. Clasping your hands together, you hoped in a fit of desperation that you might preserve some of the weight and warmth of his touch on your skin. It failed.

"Thanks," you said later, when the two of you were outside the community's borders. Jackson felt a bit too stuffy for any real admissions of gratitude, you'd decided. It turned out to be a good conclusion when you felt the delicious churn of your stomach at the idea of being alone with him once more.

I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway, one of the girls had said. Doesn't it get lonely out there? You were reminded of another's teasing, and this time your cheeks burned at the memory. Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company.

He was big, you considered. When he stood next to you, his frame was almost larger than life, and his shoulders were sinfully broad when you watched him walk in front of you on previous patrols. The sheer size of him was enough to send you into a heady descent.

As usual, Joel didn't answer for what felt like ages, and you'd begun to wonder if he could see where your train of thought had led you. Then:

"You could have told me they were bein' that outrageous," he grunted, keeping his eyes forward. "I woulda helped you out sooner. S'no fun feelin' left outta everything."

It was...odd to hear such words come from a man like Joel. Although, you reminded yourself, you'd hardly spoken to him in the four years that you'd been in Jackson; who was to say he wasn't normally like this? A quiet, brooding older man, yes; but maybe he was naturally like this. One to offer his help.

"If you wanted to help, you would have made an effort four years ago." You let your words hang in the air. You didn't mean for them to come off sharp; it was simply the truth. "I don't need your help," you added, tightening your hands on the reins of your horse and swallowing roughly. "It was fine. I am fine."

He flashed you a look as if to say, is that so? You couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his eyes creased, the only sign of amusement. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on him, although you weren't sure how you were going to explain the way your mouth went dry at the sight of his big brown eyes.

"Besides," you insisted quietly, "you're not my dad."

Joel cleared his throat. Looked down, shoulders tense. Inhaled. "No," he said decidedly. "No, I'm not."

Emboldened by this clarification, you inquired, "So what did those girls mean earlier? Riding, I mean?"

If you could have guaranteed the image of Joel's eyes going wide in surprise to remain in your head for the rest of your days, you would have done it instantly. His forehead was creased as his eyebrows lifted, and despite his position facing away from you, you could see it all.

The way he seemed to wrestle with himself before answering, the way his hands seemed to clench in his gloves. "So, uh..." he started, and then paused again. Mustering up whatever courage he needed, Joel finished, "Well, ya see, when a man and woman love each other very much—"

"Joel." Oh. You couldn't help it when a breathless chuckle left your lips.

He was silent, and when he finally answered, it wasn't a question. "What."

"I'm not fucking stupid. I know how reproduction works."

Joel's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and you couldn't ignore the look of complete relief that washed over his rough features. "Thank fuckin' Christ. Didn't know if I had it in me for another sex talk. I'm too old to be doin' this."

"Believe it or not, my parents did leave me with the basic information." Swallowing roughly, you continued. "And I know...I know that men usually...take. It's an assertion of power, from what I've...seen."

He shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've run into your fair share of dirtbags, even in the middle of the world goin' to shit." He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and you secretly enjoyed the way it stood up. "Anyone ever, you know...take...from you?"

Hearing your own words regurgitated back to you left you feeling fluttery. Shaking your head, you got down from your horse; you'd reached your typical resting spot. "No," you said firmly. "They never wanted me."

Joel nodded. "S'good," he said, and it bothered you to no end that you couldn't understand the emotion in his voice. "So..."

By now he was standing next to you, closer than you were used to, judging by the way his coat sleeve bumped yours as the two of you walked, stretching your legs. "So," you said, thinking up a way to make this conversation less awkward. "I just hate feeling like a kid again. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. There's more than just survival when it comes to living. I just want to know what I'm missing out on," you confessed with a hand on your stomach.

When Joel brushed by your side again your stomach flipped. And what the fuck is that about, and why do I keep feeling it? You asked inwardly, but you were too nervous to ask. Bombarding Joel with questions, especially after you'd just started talking to him on patrol after four years, seeming to be the wrong path to take.

He shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. "There's nothing to miss if you don't know what you're missin'."

"Yes," you admitted, "but that doesn't stop any of those girls from making me feel like I'm..."

"Innocent?" he murmured, and you thought you weren't meant to hear it until he turned to look at you.

Those big brown eyes, they just won't quit, a voice nudged you in your head.

"I don't want to be innocent," you groaned, throwing your head back. "God, not in the sense that they see me in. Sounds like a damn curse."

The sound of his rumbling laughter, however quiet, sent a shock down your spine and you nearly tripped in the snow. "There's pros and cons, I s'pose," he offered. "It's like I said: I'll help you get back on track. If that's what you really want."

"It is." You stopped walking, took a look around at the landscape, otherwise empty with the scattering of trees. You swallowed, pressed one. "So...riding. It's a part of reproducing, then?"

He chuckled again, but this time it didn't come off as demeaning. It was like he was teasing you, but good-naturedly. "Let's not jump too far ahead of ourselves, yeah? Start with somethin' smaller. Then we'll work our way up."

Joel's eyes were piercing when he held yours in his gaze. If someone watched this conversation, you were sure they'd be able to see the blush blooming on your cheeks.

"Learnin' takes time, ya know," he mused, his growling voice nearly a hum that could have warmed you from the inside out.

You'd made it to the edge of the woods now. This was normally where you turned back, heading for home. But neither of you moved. The bubble of something pulsed again, and you swallowed roughly before whispering hoarsely, "So where should we start?"

-- -- --

If Joel were a better man, he might have warned her what the curse of innocence in a young woman could be. He might have shook his head, stepped back, and told her to ask someone else. He might have taken the reins and turned the two of them back toward Jackson.

If he were better, he wouldn't have stepped closer to her. If he were a better man, he wouldn't have looked into her sparkling eyes and let the question slip. Fuck it all.

"You ever been kissed, darlin'?"

-- -- --

You swallowed. Don't make a fool of yourself, you begged yourself before answering with a quiet shake of your head. "Not many contenders out there. Not any good ones, anyway."

He'd leaned closer to you with his question, and now you could practically see each line of age in his face. Joel's expression was unclear; he could have been pleased with this information or...or maybe there was pity in his eyes. "No," he said with an understanding nod. "No, I suppose there wouldn't have been."

He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and you watched as he traced it along his lips. The gray strands in his hair glinted off the sunlight, blinking pleasantly in your eyes. That something pulsed once more in your stomach, and there was a sort of realization that came with it.

Joel, you thought. Joel is making me feel like this.

"Will you kiss me?" The words were out of your mouth before you could reel them in.

But instead of laughing, or scoffing, or giving any sign of mockery, Joel Miller inhaled quietly. "You know how much older I am than you?" he asked.

You nodded. "We're both adults, Joel. Besides," you felt a ghost of a smirk come to grace your lips, a feigned confidence coming to save you in this moment of truth. "I thought you told me to ask you these questions."

He sighed. "You're right."

"So? Will you?" you asked, with a small, "please?" coming out afterward.

He moved slowly, something you were equally thankful for as you were frustrated with, but his forehead met yours soon enough. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek, and he let out a shaky breath, letting it fan deliciously across your face. The knowledge that he was just as nervous as you were was not only a comfort; it was perhaps the most attractive thing you'd ever known.

And when you lifted your chin, just a hairsbreadth from his lips, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for him to meet you in the middle. It only took a moment before he was closing his mouth over yours, and Joel Miller was kissing you.

He was gentle, of course, but there was something restrained about his kiss, the way he slowly slotted his lips over yours as if you might crack under any more pressure. It only made you want more, more, more...

You pressed your hands to his chest and curled them into fists, tugging his jacket to lessen the distance between your bodies even more. You didn't know how you were doing this, how you'd managed to find confidence in what could have easily been a humiliating experience. Your first kiss at twenty-five? With anyone else, it might have been a nightmare.

With Joel, it was turning out to be the most delightful dream.

"So soft, baby," he pulled back to whisper against your mouth. "These lips are so soft for me."

You hummed your response and pulled him back to you, letting him see that you wanted more. That incessant pressure was building, and it wasn't until he had his arms sliding around your waist that you forced yourself to pull back, head spinning. "Joel."

He blinked. "What? Too fast?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, darlin', you're just so—"

"No, that's not it." You managed a weak smile, but the look in his eye, the question and the undeniable desire—is that what it looks like?—quivering in his brown irises, nearly made you collapse. He waited for you to continue, his hands never leaving you, a courtesy you were grateful for. "I feel...hot." Your cheeks warmed. "Um, there's this...pressure."

His lips closed in a tight smirk, and he squeezed your hips. "Where, baby?" he murmured, and you could have sworn you saw stars outlining his head at the sound of the pet name. "Show me," he cooed.

"Um." You paused, unsure of just how. But with his hands on your waist, his heavy, warm touch melting you on the spot, you took one of his gloved hands in yours and guided him to your stomach. "Here. Kind of."

"Yeah?" he said, and you forgot about the cold. About your horses waiting to be mounted, about your other responsibilities in Jackson. All you could see were his dark eyes that had somehow grown darker as you pushed his hand down, down, down...

"Fuck, babygirl," he cursed, and let his hand rest on the crux of your thighs, just barely pressing on the source of the tingling sensation. If anything, it made it worse, and you let a breathy whine fall from your lips. "You're gonna be the death of me, huh?" he groaned.

You couldn't form words. Just one kiss (a very good kiss, mind you) and a heavy hand on your core was all it took, apparently. You could hardly look anywhere but his face, your mouth dropping open as your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his hand before you realized you were doing it. "Joel—" you whimpered, and he pulled his hand away.

There wasn't enough time for you to feel jilted, as he tugged you back to your horse and practically launched you onto it himself. "We're goin' back," he said firmly, "now."

Swallowing, your throat dry and rough, you pressed a hand to your cheek, feeling the heat swimming under your skin. "Did I do something wrong?"

You could hardly see him shake his head as he mounted his own horse, looking back at you to make sure you were following him. "'Course not," he called over his shoulder. When you caught up with him, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder, he continued. "Look, darlin', f'I'm gonna be givin' you your first kiss and makin' you feel that good..." he sighed, his dark eyes finding yours. "I'm not doin' it in a fuckin' snowbank."

-- -- --

The entire ride back to Jackson was painfully long, silent but for Joel's mumbled directions, despite the fact that the two of you had taken this same route countless times in the four years that you patrolled together.

Your eyes were trained forward, and you knew his were as well, but it took everything in you not to glance at him even for a second. If you did, you were afraid that the pressure building in the crux of your thighs would never go away.

It would be unfair to say that you were completely unaware of what might happen when you got back to Jackson, but you still didn't know much, which left a nervous bubble rising in your gut. It wasn't like there were any books left in Jackson that you could read about it, or any movies that Maria would allow to remain in the community's borders.

Again, you got a wave of feeling like this should have concerned you, or at least made you a little anxious. But with Joel pulling ahead, his strong back the only thing you could look at, you felt the knot of tension release in your stomach. This was Joel. After four years—even four mostly silent years—of working together, you felt like you...knew him, somehow. That he couldn't possibly lead you astray.

Sure enough, when you were both within the borders, horses returned safely to their stables, the tension returned. Or had it ever really dissipated?

Joel hovered close to you as you left the stables. "Let's go, darlin'," he breathed, a gloved hand on your lower back as he guided you.

"Where?" you said, and you hoped it didn't sound as desperate as it did to you, the pressure getting worse. "I need—"

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed gently, his head on a swivel as if looking for anyone who might stop you. "We're goin' to mine. I've got the perfect lesson planned for ya, alright?"

It was all you could do to nod and let him push you forward through the snowy streets. If only those girls could see you now.

Once inside, you took a breath. There was no one around, and once the door closed behind you, the silence felt all the more heavy. "Ellie?" you asked, if only in courtesy.

He shook his head, and you bit your lip when you saw him smirk. "Just us, doll."

Joel shed his outer layers, and when he stood in front of you, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen him without his coat. Without his gloves, aside from that morning.

Your eyes snagged on his fingers, and you swallowed roughly when you saw the way they twitched, as if in anticipation for something. Or maybe he was holding himself back, you considered. His jaw did seem to have an impatient clench to it. Hands rough like you knew they would be, it didn't take long for your mind to wander into thinking of what it might be like to feel those hands on your skin.

With any luck, he'd give you the sweet release you craved, however it would unfold.

"See anything you like?" he teased, and your cheeks warmed.

"Sorry," you fumbled for a response, your eyes dropping. You'd meant to clear your head, but then your eyes were caught on his thighs. Specifically how hard the seams on his jeans were fighting to remain unripped. "Um, a lesson, you said?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to take your own coat off, leaving you in the sweater and pants you'd had on all day. You were sure your hair was knotted and would be for days, but he only smoothed a hand down your face, letting you lean into his touch. His fingers were still cold, but your face was hot and it offered a dizzying sense of relief.

"I could never teach you all this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an absentminded swipe across your cheek. "Not without getting...distracted," he finished, pressing his other hand to your waist. Underneath the thick layer of your coat, his hand felt like a hot iron scorching your skin, despite there still being a few layers of clothes between your bodies.

"Distraction is okay," you breathed, lifting a hand to cup his on your waist. "Right?"

He shook his head, a chuckle lifting from deep in his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Tonight, I want to stick to the plan."

"Which is?"

Wordlessly, he removed the hand on your waist and entwined it with your own, tugging you toward the living room where an old television had been placed on a rickety-looking shelf. "Sit," he directed, and you did so without hesitation. He paused, biting back a smile at your eager cooperation, and adjusted himself.

It occurred to you that as much as you were affected by him, he was experiencing a similar effect from you. His pants, already tighter than sin, seemed to have become even tighter, as a bulge began to grow while he stood just a few feet from your face.

"Joel—"

"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand and went to the television to grab something. He came back with something you recognized: a VHS tape. "Don't worry 'bout me, sweets. Tonight's just for you."

"We're gonna watch a movie?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart sank a little. You had been hoping that the two of you would kiss some more, and maybe even...you didn't even know the name for it.

"Not just any movie," he grinned, putting it in to watch. The video started. "A special one."

When the scene opened on a man and a woman in the throes of passion, you gasped. "No way," you whispered. "I thought Maria—"

He shrugged, sinking down on the couch beside you, his knee bumping yours. "She must've missed this one," was all he said.

The woman looked to be enjoying herself, as her scene partner kissed her neck, dragging his tongue from the dip in her clavicle to the curve of skin where her neck met her ear. A cartoon-ish moan left her lips, but you didn't pay it any mind. The sight of it made your thighs clench together subconsciously, the lick of pressure rising again in your center.

"Joel—"

"Shh," he said gently. "C'mere, darlin'." With no more than a heavy hand on your waist, he tugged you closer to him, situating you over his lap. "Comfortable?"

You almost said no; you knew that this wouldn't be an acceptable seating arrangement in the cafeteria (or anywhere public, for that matter), but when his hands landed on your thighs, you nodded swiftly. His fingers curled around your skin, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his fingertips, poised as if he might spread your legs from where they were squeezed together between his own thighs.

Something hard and solid nudged at your core, and you couldn't help it when you leaned back into his chest, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. A breathy moan tumbled from your lips, and your stomach fluttered when you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

"That quick, baby?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck. "You really are a sweet young thing, aren't ya," he teased, pressing his nose to the joint between your jaw and your neck, "fallin' apart for me already?" He rocked his hips forward, his bulge pressing harder against you, and it nearly sent you into a spiral.

You swallowed, your throat dry. The sounds of the movie seemed far away as you opened your eyes and looked at his beard, peppered with gray and scratching at your chin when he leaned over you. "Joel," you whispered, bringing your hands to cover his own on your thighs, "I-I want to know everything." You'd never meant anything more fervently, more desperately, than this.

If you'd known how addicting this could feel, being so close to him, feeling his hands on you, perhaps you would have been embarrassed at the way your hips began rubbing yourself on his lap, hoping for—you didn't even know what could be after this. You just knew that the way you felt was the most intense thing you'd felt in your entire life, and you wanted to keep feeling this way, as long as you could.

Joel tutted, squeezing his hands on your thighs. "Oh, look at you," he groaned, a deep, carnal noise that made your chest constrict, "you're a natural, doll." His lips brushed your shoulder, and he darted his tongue out to lick a small strip up your neck.

Your heart swelled with the praise, and it was all you could do not to squeeze your eyes shut. "Please," you begged quietly, as if someone might hear you.

"I know, baby, I know," he crooned, dark eyes locked onto your own as his hand crept closer—to your waistband—closer—unzipping your pants—closer...there.

Your hips lifted from his lap with the heady sensation of his fingers pressed to a bundle of nerves between your legs. "Joel—!" you squeaked.

You felt him smile against your cheek. "So wet," he murmured, "so slick for my fingers, baby." He began rubbing that spot in tight circles, a slow, torturous pace. "Let me know when you're gonna come, yeah?"

"When I..." you trailed off. You'd never...how would you know? "I don't..."

Joel hummed in your ear, rocking his hips again and releasing a guttural groan. "S'okay, pretty girl," he reassured you, "I'll be gentle. Lemme know when it feels like it's too much. "I've gotcha."

You were too far gone to doubt him. This was Joel. He wouldn't let you fall, as much as you felt like you were going to slide to the floor at the feeling of his hand coming up from your leg to caress your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. A strangled mix between a cry and a moan left your lips, and with one more kiss to your brow paired with a quick swipe of his finger over your ever-sensitive bud—

Something gave way and you jerked your head back, digging into his shoulder. Your legs spasmed and you squeezed your hand over Joel's, holding his hand in place underneath your panties.

"Fuck, doll, just like that," he encouraged you. "Look at you, eyes rollin' back for me. Shakin' like a good girl." His hips tensed beneath you and you felt his chest shudder as he released a punishing moan. "Got me feelin' like a damn teenager, comin' in my jeans."

His fingers stilled, but his hand didn't move. Your legs slowly stopped shaking, and the solid mass beneath you was softening. You let out a sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed. Your cheeks were flushed, you could tell; but this time, it wasn't embarrassment that brought the warmth to your face.

"You okay?" he murmured, carefully removing his hands from their places on you. "Feel alright, darlin'?"

Your head turned, nestling into the crook of his neck. Nodding quietly, you shifted in his lap. "I...I didn't know it could be like that," you shivered.

Joel paused the video, the living room falling quiet around you. Swinging a hand under your legs and tugging you to a more comfortable position over his lap, he raised his fingers to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your desire. Your jaw slackened when you watched him open his mouth, lapping at the tips of his fingers.

"Trust me, doll," he said with a glint in his eye. You whimpered in anticipation as he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I've got so much more to teach you."

tysm for reading! you made it to the end! part two is in the works posted!

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rafecameronssl4t · 5 months ago

Note

Do Sarah and Wheezie get along with reader in the arranged/forced marriage au? It seems like they’re constantly going to dinners and events for readers family; does she ever hang with the Cameron’s? Is Rose a better mother figure to her than her own?

With the Cameron’s || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I hope this gives you better insight into reader’s relationship with Rafe’s family plus bonus lil snippet of what Rafe is like during the pregnancy (will go more in depth in another fic)

Warnings: none really (not proofread)

Word count: 1,550

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

"Are we running late? What if the plane leaves without us—" Wheezie’s voice quickly gets cut off by Rafe’s sharp tone, his irritation palpable. "Can you shut up for one second?" he snaps, huffing in frustration. His fingers press against his temples as if the very sound of her voice is grating on him.

The sharpness in his words makes you wince slightly, but when your eyes meet Sarah's across the seat, a faint smile tugs at your lips. Rafe’s temper wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore. "It’s our private jet, Wheezie," he continues, his voice now dropping to a bored drawl as he looks out the window, his hand settling possessively on your thigh, squeezing it as the runway comes into view.

"They're not going anywhere without us." You shift slightly under his touch, not used to these fleeting moments of affection in front of the Cameron's, but you say nothing. It’s a part of your dynamic now—Rafe’s firm grip on control, always balancing on a fine line between caring and detached. Rose, sitting in front, turns around, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is it safe for you to travel, Y/n?" Her voice is soft, almost maternal, a stark contrast to your own mother. You manage a small smile, trying to ease her worries. "Yeah, perfectly fine. I checked in with our doctors." Your tone is calm, almost rehearsed, as if you’ve had to explain this more times than you can count. Rose nods, satisfied, and returns her attention to her phone.

As the car slows down, Wheezie’s eyes widen when she finally sees the jet, her loud gasp shifting everyone's attention. "Woah," she breathes, her face lighting up in awe at the sight of the sleek aircraft, the one your grandparents had gifted you after the wedding. "Pretty nice, huh?" you tease, nudging her lightly. Her excitement was always contagious, and like always, you let yourself enjoy it.

"Your first time flying private?" you ask, winking at her as she nods vigorously, still mesmerised by the plane. The car rolls to a stop, and Rafe is the first to get out, his movements confident and deliberate. Without a word, he turns back toward you, offering his hand. Gratefully, you take it, carefully stepping out, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin.

Your eyes sweep across the aircraft, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight as you feel Rafe wrap your shawl around your shoulders. Your eyes scan the jet, taking in its sleek lines and pristine exterior. It’s a symbol of the life you’ve been thrust into—luxurious, yes, but hollow in so many ways.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, a pleasure to see you again," Anthony, the pilot, greets both of you, extending his hand to Rafe’s first, then yours for a firm handshake. "Good to see you too, Anthony," you reply politely, flashing a smile that feels more natural now. While Rafe and the pilot exchange words about flight plans and weather conditions, you glance back at Sarah, who is still staring at the plane in disbelief.

"I can’t believe I’m about to fly on a private jet," Sarah murmurs, almost to herself. You chuckle softly, catching her wide-eyed expression. "You better believe it, Sarah," you say, the humour in your voice masking the exhaustion underneath. It was a strange life—one you still weren’t fully used to—but moments like these reminded you how surreal it could all be.

You step closer to where Rafe and Anthony stand, their conversation coming to a halt as you approach. "Is everything as it should be?" you ask, your gaze flicking between them. Rafe shifts slightly, turning toward you, while Anthony’s face brightens with a warm, professional smile. "Yes, everything is set," Anthony replies, his voice reassuring.

"The flight to New York should be only around an hour and a half." His smile deepens, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with a sense of familiarity. You nod in acknowledgment, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Anthony, who follows your gesture. "How many weeks are you now?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of small details, suddenly unsure. "Oh, uh—34 weeks now?" you reply, though your tone carries a hint of uncertainty. You turn to Rafe for confirmation, and he's already watching you, that rare, softer expression gracing his usually unreadable face. "35 tomorrow, actually," Rafe corrects, his voice gentle as he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

The motion feels natural, almost instinctive, though there's still a flicker of surprise at how he’s been acting since you've been pregnant. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, almost absentmindedly, as if his hand belonged there. It’s a small gesture, but it lingers, and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a sense of unfamiliar warmth in his touch.

He looks back at Anthony, who nods knowingly. "You're in good hands," Anthony says with a wink, glancing between the two of you before excusing himself to check the final details for the flight. You stay pressed to Rafe’s side for a moment longer than usual, the warmth of his touch and the gentle smile he’d given you lingering. As you follow Rafe up the steps of the plane, his hand reaches back toward you, a silent gesture that feels automatic.

You pause for a moment, looking at his extended hand, then slide yours into it. His grip tightens, pulling you up the stairs with a familiarity that’s still strange to you despite how long it’s been. His attention is already elsewhere, but there’s something steady in the way he holds on. The second you step inside, Wheezie lets out a gasp, her eyes wide as she takes in the lavish interior. "Oh my god," she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

Sarah, beside her, shares the same shocked expression, her mouth slightly agape as she slowly looks around. Rose, ever composed, gracefully accepts a flute of champagne handed to her by the flight attendant, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she takes a seat on one of the plush leather chairs. "I could get used to this," she says with a contented hum, easing herself into one of the leather seats as she crosses her legs, holding the glass delicately.

"You know, Rose, you can use my jet whenever you want," you say, settling into the seat across from her. There’s a familiar warmth in your voice because with Rose, you didn’t have to hold back as much. She’d seen you at your best and your worst, and over time, a genuine bond had grown between you two. "You're family," you add with a small smile.

Your words are warm, genuine, and for a moment, you feel a small sense of pride in being able to extend such a gesture. It was your grandparents’ gift, after all, but now it felt like another small piece of the life you were slowly building alongside Rafe, complicated as it was. Rose glances up at you, her lips curving into a fond smile. "Thank you, Y/n. That's really sweet of you, darling."

She lifts her champagne glass slightly in a subtle toast of appreciation. Between Rose and Ward, you had always preferred Rose. You return her smile, her eyes sparkling with the kind of closeness that comes with shared secrets and long afternoons together. There was an ease with her that you didn’t find in Ward's scrutinising gaze.

The two of you had even started forming your own little rituals—getting your hair and nails done together, sharing gossip that never left the salon. In a family where appearances were everything, it was a quiet comfort to have someone you could let your guard down with, even just a little. Rose had been the one who welcomed you the most. From the outside, she appeared cool and distant, but you knew better.

Rose raises her glass slightly in a toast. "Here’s to us," she says, her tone light and affectionate. You chuckle softly, lifting an imaginary glass in response. "To us," you echo, feeling a familiar sense of comfort in her presence. Rose had become more of a mother figure to you than anything else, a relationship that had blossomed in the shadows of family expectations and high society obligations.

She offered you the warmth and guidance your own mother never quite gave, filling the void with her quiet support and understanding. Rose had a way of making you feel seen in a world that often demanded you play a role. With her, it wasn’t about maintaining facades or living up to expectations—it was about the genuine bond you had formed through shared experiences and mutual respect.

There were times you confided in her—about your uncertainties with Rafe, about the overwhelming pressure of impending motherhood—and she always listened, offering advice that felt sincere rather than patronising. She knew the world you had been thrust into, had navigated it herself long before you, and in her own way, she helped you find your footing.

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narxcisse · 22 days ago

Note

Hello, could you please do it for silco x wife reader please .

That's all and thankyou

★ — Husband Silco headcanons

As Silco's spouse, you are viewed as an equal, someone who commands respect in the underbelly of Zaun.

Trust is everything for him, and the bond between you two is unshakable. He values loyalty above all else, and your relationship is built on that foundation.

While Silco projects strength and control publicly, you're one of the few who sees his moments of vulnerability—his fears, regrets, and dreams.

He's fiercely protective of you, willing to eliminate any threats without hesitation. You are one of the few people who can calm his rage when things go awry.

Despite his chaotic life, he ensures you both have a quiet, hidden sanctuary away from Zaun's turmoil where you can spend time together.

Many nights are spent with Silco recounting stories from his past or his plans for Zaun, trusting you with details he wouldn't share with anyone else.

He isn't overtly romantic, but his love shows in subtle ways, like holding your hand during stressful moments, ensuring your safety, or preparing tea when you're tired.

Jinx adores you. She might even see you as a parental figure or confidant. You help balance her chaotic tendencies, which earns Silco's gratitude.

Silco values your input and often discusses plans with you. Your insight sometimes shifts his decisions, though he'd never admit how much influence you have.

Whether you're a strategist, fighter, or influencer, you contribute to his vision of Zaun's independence. He admires your strength and capability.

While he isn't outwardly affectionate, his kisses are deliberate and filled with meaning, often given in private moments.

Silco gives meaningful gifts—a weapon for protection, a rare trinket from Piltover, or something that symbolizes your bond (as matching bracelets)

For him, you're his anchor in the chaos of Zaun. He makes it clear that, despite his ambitions, you are his priority.

Being with Silco means constant danger. Rivals may try to use you against him, but Silco's network ensures you're well-protected.

His ruthless methods can sometimes weigh on you, leading to occasional conflicts. However, the respect between you ensures that issues are addressed maturely.

His obsession with Zaun’s freedom means his attention is divided, but he always makes an effort to remind you that you are his safe haven.

In private, Silco lets his guard down, leaning on you, tracing your face with his fingers, or resting his head against yours after a long day.

If you’re injured or unwell, he takes time away from his empire to personally ensure your recovery.

Silco sees you as a partner in his dream for Zaun's independence. He often shares his vision, and your support strengthens his resolve.

Even in the darkest moments, your bond with him remains unbroken, a testament to the love and trust you share.

#silco x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #silco x you #league of legends #league of legends x reader #x reader #arcane x you #league of legends x you #arcane silco #silco arcane #arcane silco x reader #lol x reader #arcane season 1 #arcane season 2 #jinx mentioned #arcane jinx #narxcisse

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mononijikayu · 6 months ago

Text

what’s your type? — gojo satoru.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?” “Ask away.” “.........What’s your type?” You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?” “I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much. Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—” You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 10k words.

NOTE: feeling a little bit better, no more fever. but im still longing for satoru. he won second place in the last poll, so his story has to be contrasting sukuna!!! thank you for still reading my works and healing with me. it's really healing to just take time and see him be the silly man he is. i love him so much, guys. so so much!!!

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

November 2005

IT'S ALMOST BEEN SIX MONTHS AND SOMEHOW HE STILL DOESN’T KNOW YOU. And because of this he doesn’t think he can sleep at night. You were Gojo Satoru's senpai, a figure shrouded in mystery and calm that even he, with all his power and insight, could not easily unravel. To Satoru, you were more of an enigma than he could ever hope to be—a person who never spoke more than necessary, and when you did, it was with careful precision, revealing only what was directly asked.

You were a Zen'in by blood, yet you never uttered a word of reproach against your relatives, despite their reputation. It was no secret that the Zen'in clan was a place of harshness and cruelty, but you kept your thoughts tightly sealed, never letting your personal feelings slip. Not even with discontent, it somehow never found a way out of your lips. Your life outside of missions and the classroom was a locked box that Satoru could never open.

Gojo Satoru can’t help it, but he often finds himself wondering about you. Your restraint, your quiet strength. Everything about you was so unlike him, so tranquil and graceful and yet, in some ways, it was what made you so fascinating to him. He knew you didn’t like the higher–ups, nor the clan elders; it was in the way your deep purple eyes would narrow ever so slightly during meetings, in the subtle tension in your posture.

But you never voiced your displeasure, not even in private. Yaga–sensei thinks you got that from your father. And you were too much like him. It was unquestionable, unshakable, vibrant loyalty to the jujutsu world, but Gojo Satoru couldn't tell whether it was out of duty, fear, or something else entirely.

For someone like Gojo Satoru, who thrived on breaking down barriers and challenging the status quo the moment he was born, your unwavering silence on certain matters was almost infuriating. He doesn’t think you were that way when you were born either. But perhaps he was used to being the one who held all the cards, who saw through people with ease.

Yet with you, he was left guessing, speculating. You were the aloof cloud he can never understand. Even when he tried to prod for more, you would give him just enough to satisfy his immediate curiosity but never enough to truly understand you. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted to understand you. To get to know you. To be close to you.

It wasn't that you were cold or distant—far from it, he thinks. You were always there, always supportive when it mattered. Maybe even more than Yaga–sensei sometimes. But you kept your past, your thoughts, and your emotions locked away in a treasure trove he’s been trying to find. And just as always, it was leaving Satoru to wonder what kind of experiences shaped the person you were. Were you haunted by the same ghosts that plagued him, or was your silence a shield against something far darker?

To him, you were like a mirror that reflected his own complexities. The first in centuries to be born with the gift of Ryomen Hiromi, the only heir of the Zen’in clan in its lifetime. But maybe you were someone with a filter that softens the edges. You represented a kind of strength that didn’t need to flaunt itself—a quiet resilience that came from facing the world with resolve and not letting it change who you were at your core.

In a world full of curses and chaos, where everyone had their demons, you remained the one riddle Gojo Satoru couldn’t solve. A mystery he wished to solve. And perhaps that was why, despite all his power and knowledge, he found himself drawn to you again and again, in search of the answer to the question that haunted him the most: Who were you, really? Who was this senpai he looked up to the most?

The room was quiet, save for the sound of Gojo Satoru's footsteps as he paced back and forth. His restless energy filled the space, making it impossible for Geto Suguru to focus on his book. After a few more laps, Suguru finally had enough and gave up, placing the book aside.

"Satoru, would you stop that? You're making me dizzy." Suguru said, rubbing his temples in frustration. “And now the book feels moot to your annoying footsteps.”

Satoru paused mid-step, looking at Suguru with a pout. "I can't help it! I’m just too curious about them. They’re always so secretive."

Ieiri Shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold from her spot on the couch, took a drag from her cigarette before chiming in. "Let him be, Suguru. At least he’ll burn off some of that energy. We might actually get some peace and quiet later."

Satoru shot her a playful glare. "I’m not that bad."

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue the point. Instead, she leaned back and let out a soft sigh, enjoying the rare moment of levity. "Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that."

Suguru, however, wasn’t quite done. "You shouldn’t pry into their life, Satoru. That’s their business, not ours."

Satoru crossed his arms, his curiosity still burning brightly in his eyes. "But they never talk about anything! Don't you want to know more about them?"

Shoko nodded in agreement with Suguru. "I do, but it’s not our place to dig into their past. If they want to share something, they will. Until then, we respect their privacy."

Satoru sighed, his excitement dimming slightly. He knew they were right, but it didn’t make it any easier. There was something about the mystery that you carried with you that kept pulling him in, a puzzle that he was desperate to solve.

"Fine." he conceded, plopping down on the couch next to Shoko. "But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep wondering."

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "Knowing you, that’s as close to restraint as we’re going to get."

Shoko smirked and gave Satoru a light tap on the head. "Just don’t let it consume you, alright?"

Satoru grinned, though the curiosity still lingered in his expression. "No promises.”

Satoru leaned back on the couch, trying to shake off his curiosity about you, but it was harder than he expected. His mind kept wandering back to the mystery that was his strong, dependable senpai. Despite the warnings from Suguru and Shoko, he couldn't help himself.

"Come on, Suguru, don’t you wonder about anything? Like, what type of women they’re into?" Satoru suddenly asked, unable to keep the question to himself any longer.

Suguru rolled his eyes, clearly not interested in entertaining Satoru’s curiosity any further. He has had enough for a whole day already. He sighed. "Satoru, seriously? I thought you put it to rest already!”

“But I wanna know more about them. What’s their favorite mochi? Do they like coffee? What’s their favorite cafe? Do they like idols? What’s their type—”

“Satoru, stop—Ah, my ear! That was so loud!”

“Suguboo!” The blue eyed sorcerer cried as he leaned against Suguru’s shoulder as Suguru groaned with exasperation, trying to get Satoru off him.

But Shoko, who had been lazily biting the lollipop in her mouth, suddenly perked up at the sight. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her flip phone, her fingers typing away with practiced ease.

Satoru noticed and immediately scooted closer. "Wait, Shoko, what are you doing? Do you know something? Don’t tell me you have senpai’s number. Are you texting them? Tell me! I’m dying here!"

Shoko grinned, enjoying the moment as she finished typing. She flipped the phone around, showing Satoru the screen.

His cerulean. eyes zeroed in on the contact name: Utahime–senpai. Then, underneath, a simple message: Eh? Hm…..Yuki–senpai asked them one time, and Yuki-senpai said that they answered Norika Fujiwara—that’s our senpai’s type, which bummed Yuki-senpai. She's not senpai's type.’

"Yuki-senpai, the special grade abroad?"

"I guess so." Shoko retorted back to Suguru. "Apparently she and our senpai's close."

"Hm, that makes sense." Suguru nodded back at his friend. "Huh, I never expected that senpai would be into women. Good for them."

"Right?" Shoko grinned back at the long haired sorcerer. "Women are the best!"

For a moment, Satoru just stared, processing the information. "Wait, Norika Fujiwara? That’s…"

"Yup." Shoko said, her grin widening as she leaned back, clearly amused by his reaction.

Satoru’s eyes widened as it finally hit him. "Our senpai… is into women?"

Shoko chuckled as Suguru shot her a mildly disapproving look, but even he couldn't suppress a small smile. "You know, this makes sense now. Kyoto High has K-1 events on their TV. And Norika Fujiwara's on the programs sometimes."

"Heh, you're right!" Shoko grins at her friend. "I wonder if they only watch for Noriko Fujiwara."

"I don't think our Senpai's that shallow, Shoko."

"Well anyway, you did say you wanted to know more about them." Shoko said, putting her phone away. She raised her thumb up for Satoru. “Now you do!”

Satoru was stunned. He had always respected you as a powerful and composed figure, but somehow this revelation made you even more intriguing in his eyes. "Wow… just when I thought I couldn’t admire them more. They're becoming cooler by the day. You guys don't understand!"

Suguru sighed, shaking his head at the whole exchange. "Satoru, you really are something else."

"Hey, I’m just appreciating my senpai!" Satoru shot back, but his tone was lighter now, a mix of surprise and admiration in his voice.

Shoko smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "Well, now you know. Just don’t let it go to your head."

Satoru nodded, but it was clear from his expression that this little tidbit of knowledge had only deepened the enigma that you were to him. Because he couldn't help it, when it came to you. He couldn't help but want to know more.

He stood up, trying to open his canned soda and sighed. He thinks he feels faint. But maybe, just maybe, its the weather. He feels unwell, somhow. Gojo Satoru sighed. He should sleep more.

THE AUTUMN LEAVES MARKED YOUR ARRIVAL. The next few days saw you at Jujutsu High, filing a report about a recent mission in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. The mission had gone smoothly, but there was something about the activity at a nearby temple that piqued your interest, so you planned to stay on campus all day before heading out to investigate.

Satoru had been unusually quiet since your arrival. He watched you from a distance, his usual playful banter replaced by a thoughtful silence. He still hadn’t figured out how to bring up what he’d learned about you—how could he, when the revelation had left him so distracted?

By the time you suggested sparring, hoping to shake off the tension in the air, Satoru seemed eager to agree. The two of you moved through the training area, exchanging blows with a familiarity that spoke of years of experience. But something was off. Satoru wasn’t as sharp as usual; his mind was clearly elsewhere.

You took advantage of the momentary lapse in his concentration. In a quick, fluid motion, you downed him, pinning him to the ground with a sigh. He groaned, feeling the ground and gravel against his face.

"You’re stupid to let me have a shot at downing you, Gojo-kun." you muttered, shaking your head. “That was a rookie mistake.”

Satoru blinked up at you, startled by your words, before realizing his mistake. He had let his guard down completely. He sighed, a rare admission of fault slipping past his lips. "Yeah, sorry. I’m just… distracted."

You raised an eyebrow, still holding him in place. "Distracted? What's going on, Gojo-kun? Is it about a mission or something to do with the jujutsu you’re working on?"

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. It wasn’t like him to be at a loss, but this was different. His thoughts were clouded by what he had discovered, and now, faced with you directly, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Finally, he decided to dodge, just a little.

"It’s nothing serious. Just something on my mind that I can’t quite shake."

You narrowed your eyes, clearly not convinced but deciding to let it slide for the moment. You released him, standing up and offering a hand to help him up. "Well, whatever it is, don’t let it cloud your judgment. You can’t afford to be distracted out there."

Satoru took your hand and stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes. He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, senpai."

You studied him for a moment longer, clearly aware that something was off but choosing not to press further. "Just remember, Gojo-kun—whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m here if you need anything."

He nodded again, appreciating your offer but still unsure how to approach the topic of what he’d learned. "I’ll keep that in mind."

With that, the two of you continued your sparring session, but Satoru's thoughts remained tangled. The revelation had stirred something in him, and he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself forever. But for now, he would focus on the task at hand, trying to push the distraction aside until he could find the right moment—and the right words—to bring it up with you.

You cracked open your canned soda, the familiar hiss of carbonation filling the quiet evening air. Taking a sip, you glanced at Satoru, who was fiddling with his own sweet drink, clearly still wrestling with his thoughts. You couldn’t help but smile, the tension between you now a thing of the past.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“.........What’s your type?”

You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?”

“I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much, really. Pretty face, pretty lady. But I have to say, Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—”

You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

He blushes, almost embarrassed as you shake your head at him. “......Is it bad?”

“Hm, not at all.” You snickered at him. “You’re just curious. But I now have a question!”

“Y–yes, senpai?”

“Was it Mei–Mei or Utahime?”

“!?” His face was priceless. It was as though he was a child who had just been caught stealing cookies during the night in the kitchen.

"Ah, Shoko must have asked Utahime." you began, the amusement evident in your voice, "Man, that girl has a big fat crush on Shoko, doesn’t she? She just gave up easily. At least with Mei–Mei, it will be a good five million yen.”

Satoru didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on opening his drink. His silence spoke volumes, and you chuckled once more with a softer essence, shaking your head.

“Well, it’s not like I’m hiding anything.” You tout, sighing as you look at him. “But I guess that I’m not as obvious as they come, I suppose.”

Taking another sip, you continued, "I do like Fujiwara Norika. She’s my type of woman. Looking back at it now, she reminds me of someone I dated once. And I think that makes Yuki-chan feel like she has to dye her hair brown now."

Satoru froze mid-sip, and the next thing you knew, he was sputtering, spitting out his drink in surprise. "You… you dated before?" he blurted out, his eyes wide with shock. "Do...do I know them?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. "Why wouldn’t I? I’m older than you by a couple of years, you know? And it wasn’t really a secret....Hm.....Would you know? I don't think you liked anyone else from the other clans. But I guess in a way, it doesn't matter, you know?”

Satoru stared at you, still processing what you had said, but then he noticed the brief flicker of sadness that crossed your face, even when you try to laugh it off. It was subtle, barely there, but for someone as perceptive as Satoru, it was impossible to miss. His usual playful demeanor softened, and he watched you carefully, sensing that there was more to the story.

You sighed, looking out at the horizon, your voice quieter now. "I loved someone a long time ago, Gojo. And it broke my heart when she left. But that’s over now.”

The weight of your words hung in the air between you, and for once, Satoru didn’t know what to say. He could see the pain in your eyes, a pain that was buried deep but still lingered, like an old wound that hadn’t quite healed.

"But, Gojo-kun....you know…." you continued, your voice growing steadier, "I didn’t love her because she was a woman. Or that she looked like Fujiwara Noriko. Even if that's what others believed. I loved her because she brought me to life."

Satoru was silent, absorbing what you had just shared. He could see now that your quiet strength, the way you carried yourself, had been shaped by experiences that ran deep—experiences that he had never even guessed at.

You turned to him with a genuine smile. "People like us have the rarity of that, don't you think? Not has the shot to be brought to life by love."

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the setting sun casting long shadows around you. Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I’m sorry, senpai. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile. "It’s alright, Gojo-kun. You didn't upset me at all. It’s part of life, part of who I am. And you asked properly. It was right to be honest. Besides, what makes us human if we don't carry our own stories with us, don’t we?"

Satoru nodded slowly, feeling a new sense of respect for you. He had always admired your strength, but now he understood that it wasn’t just about power or skill. It was also about the resilience you had built through the pain of loss, through the love that had once lifted you and then left you heartbroken.

"Thanks for telling me, senpai." he finally said, his usual bravado tempered by genuine gratitude.

You nodded, appreciating his sincerity. "Just remember, Gojo-kun. Your curiosity isn’t a bad thing. But some things take time to understand. Don’t be in such a hurry to know everything all at once. Even about me. Just….just enjoy things little by little.”

He smiled, a small, thoughtful smile that showed he was taking your words to heart. "I’ll try to remember that."

You leaned closer to him and let your palm pat his head. He gasped, looking up to you as he nearly dropped his soda. You laugh. “Aren’t you my cute, curious and dependable kouhai, Gojo Satoru!”

Gojo Satoru felt his ears turn red as much as his body. He lowered his head, enjoying your touch on his hair. Gentle and yet tenderly comforting all at once. He wished you didn’t have this much of an effect on him. But he supposed that he knew that he’s not good like that when it comes to you.

With that, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, sipping your drinks as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in twilight. It was a rare, quiet moment between two powerful sorcerers, a moment where the weight of your shared experiences brought you closer together, not just as comrades, but as individuals who had lived, loved, and lost in the ever-unforgiving world of jujutsu.

January 2006

IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE ITS NEW YEAR AGAIN.The cold Kyoto air was crisp as Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara made their way up the steps to your family’s ancestral Mikoto temple in the heart of Kyoto. The New Year had come fast approaching, and while you had insisted they didn’t need to make the trip all the way to Kyoto just for you, Gojo Satoru had been adamant to see you. As he always was. He was just that sort of young man.

Satoru's enthusiasm for joining you at the temple for New Year's was palpable, his childlike pout accentuating just how much he wanted to be there. Despite your logical protests about the cold and the crowd, Satoru seemed undeterred, his energy almost infectious.

“It’ll be too crowded, Gojo-kun.” you said with a raised brow, trying to keep a firm stance on your decision. “And not to mention too cold. Just stay in Tokyo.”

But Satoru wasn't one to give up easily, especially not when it came to spending time with you. He pouted, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made you sigh in exasperation. “Ehhhhhh, I don’t want to.” His voice was a playful whine. “Come on, senpai! Me being there would make it all fun.”

Suguru, always the calm voice of reason, chimed in from beside him, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “We’re going to be there too, Satoru.” he pointed out, his tone laced with subtle amusement. “Are we just chopped liver to you?”

Shoko, ever the instigator, snickered at the exchange. “When it comes to our senpai, that big baby is going to be thinking about him.”

Satoru’s indignant protest was immediate. “Hey, I’m not a big baby!”

Before you could respond, Haibara’s grin lit up the conversation. “I’ll go too! I think it would be fun to see how Bishamon temples do festivals.”

Nanami, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic. “I don’t.” he mumbled under his breath, pushing his hair out of his face with a resigned air. “It would be too cold. And I don’t wanna get a cold.”

"Hey! You'll offend senpai like that!" Haibara pouted at Kento.

Nanami Kento turned to you with a blank face. "Does it offend you, senpai?"

"Not at all." You grinned at him.

"See, they don't mind."

"Huh!? But I do!" Gojo Satoru retorted back. "You're going, Nanami!"

"I don't wanna."

"No, you're going!"

"Satoru, don't be so loud."

"But Suguboo!"

"I can't believe I'm stuck with all of you." Shoko huffed, cigarette smooke coming out of her mouth.

Despite your earlier reservations, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of all of them wanting to be with you for the New Year. It was going to be a lively celebration, that much was certain. Even after many times you’ve told them to not go, they still told you they were going. And sure enough, it was too cold all the way around.

Nanami sighed, adjusting the scarf around his neck as they neared the temple gates. "This is ridiculous. We could have celebrated in Tokyo."

Haibara, ever the optimist, smiled brightly at his friend. "Don’t worry, Nanami. I’m sure everything will be well. It’s New Year’s day, after all. We should be celebrating together."

As they reached the top of the steps, they were greeted by the sight of Kusakabe and Utahime already there, standing near the entrance of the temple. Iori Utahime was wrapped in a thick coat, her breath visible in the chilly air. Beside her, Kusakabe Atsuya was typing away on his flip phone. When Utahime spotted Satoru, her expression immediately shifted to one of irritation.

"Why are you here, Gojo?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of suspicion and annoyance.

Satoru grinned at her, his usual carefree attitude on full display. "Because I’m your favorite kouhai, of course!" he replied, his tone teasing as ever. “Aren’t you happy? To be graced by my presence, Utahime?”

Utahime’s eye twitched in irritation, and she started towards him, clearly ready to give him a piece of her mind. But before she could get too close, Kusakabe quickly stepped in, gently pulling her back. Everyone was looking at them but none of that mattered to Gojo Satoru who continued to grin at his elder.

"Utahime, let it go. It’s New Year’s day!" he urged, trying to keep the peace. “Senpai’s also here, we can’t cause headaches for them!”

"But he—!" Utahime began, only to be cut off by Kusakabe, who was already steering her towards the temple entrance, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Satoru just chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction he’d gotten out of her. "She’s so easy to rile up." he said to Suguru, who merely shook his head with a smirk.

Shoko, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, nudged Satoru. "Maybe try not to annoy everyone before the night even begins." she suggested, though there was little bite to her words. “Utahime, don’t mind him.”

"Where’s the fun in that?" Satoru quipped, but he did ease off, his attention shifting to the temple grounds. He leaned towards Shoko. “Heh, love sick.”

Shoko slapped his arm. He flinched and groaned in pain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You emerged from the temple just as they were finishing up their banter, surprised to see so many familiar faces. "I thought I told you guys not to bother coming all the way out here." you said, though there was no mistaking the warmth in your tone. It was clear you were happy to see them, despite your earlier protests. “It’s very busy here, I didn’t want you guys to suffer waiting.”

Satoru stepped forward, handing you a small package wrapped in festive paper. "No way we were letting you celebrate alone, senpai! Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper New Year without you. Or me. Together.”

“Heh, love sick.” Suguru snickered lowly.

“Shut up!” Satoru slapped his arm.

You accepted the gift with a smile, though your gaze softened at the sight of them all gathered together. "I appreciate it. Truly.”

Nanami, still grumbling under his breath, finally spoke up. "Next year, we’re doing this in Tokyo."

Haibara laughed, patting Nanami on the back. "We’ll see about that, Nanami. For now, let’s just enjoy the night."

As the group made their way inside, the temple's warm glow and the smell of incense welcomed them. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air as they prepared to ring in the New Year together. Despite the long journey and the cold, it was clear that none of them would have wanted to be anywhere else.

You ushered everyone inside the temple, the warmth from the lit braziers immediately driving away the chill of the winter night. The monks at the temple were handing out hot drinks to keep warm. Nanami took two, as the others enjoyed one. Satoru thinks that it was sweet plum tea, but it’s not sweet enough for him.

The temple’s interior was adorned with traditional New Year’s decorations—pine branches, plum blossoms, and bamboo, all carefully arranged to welcome the coming year. Gojo Satoru was often here as a child, being a descendant of Hiromi.

He can pinpoint the places he had studied with his Mikoto teachers. But he has never seen it in this way, with all its vibrant decorations. He supposed that he was always celebrating New Years at those boring clan parties.

The air was thick with the fragrant scent of incense, and the sound of gentle chanting echoed softly through the corridors. The bells rang as people prayed in front of the statue of Bishamon. The line was the longest he had ever seen, probably longer than when he buys new Digimon merchandise. But he supposed that it would be the case. The Hiromi Shrine was the most popular of the Bishamon worship shrines in Kyoto, especially because of the performances.

"Make yourselves comfortable." you told them with a smile. "I’ll be back soon. I have to prepare for the dance offering to Bishamon. It’s a tradition I have to lead."

“Heh, you dance, senpai?” Shoko questioned, drinking her plum tea. “Just like Utahime.”

You smiled back at her. “Hm. I’m a priestess in Mikoto shrines also. Bishamon likes being praised, after all. So, it is part of our duty.”

“Your dancing has always been immaculate, senpai.” Utahime cheered as she looked towards you. “Graceful as always.”

“Does this mean you know this?” Suguru turned to Satoru with a curious face. “You have common ancestry with that, don’t you?”

“I was taught, but I wasn’t allowed to perform it.” Satoru retorted back, fixing his glasses. “I’m still a Gojo, you know?”

“I’ll be going now.” You tell them, fixing the pleats on your haori. “I still have to change clothing.”

“Good luck, senpai!” Haibara says, clapping his hands. Nanami mumbled the same but in a lower tone.

You giggled. “You have my thanks. Enjoy the show, okay?”

The group nodded in silent agreement, their eyes following your form as you disappeared deeper into the temple. The faint sound of your footsteps echoed briefly before being swallowed by the hushed serenity of the sacred space. As the heavy wooden doors closed behind you, a soft thud resonated through the air, leaving them standing in the warm, golden glow of the temple's main hall.

The ancient architecture loomed around them, exuding an aura of timelessness and reverence. Flickering candles cast gentle, dancing shadows across the polished floors, while the subtle scent of incense hung in the air, intertwining with the soft murmur of distant prayers. It was a place where the divine felt near, a sanctuary where the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the sacred atmosphere to envelop them.

Each of them felt the weight of the temple’s history, the centuries of devotion embedded in its very walls. Here, in this tranquil space, they were reminded of the depth of their connection to you, and the unspoken bond that drew them all together, even in the quietest of moments.

Satoru leaned against a pillar, his eyes following the path you had taken. "This is a big deal." he said, breaking the silence. "The dance offered to Bishamon isn’t just for show. It’s a prayer for protection, strength, and victory in the coming year. As descendants of the Hiromi clan, it has to be taken with care and concentration.”

Shoko, intrigued, glanced at him. "So you know all about this, then? In great detail."

Satoru shrugged, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yeah, I’ve seen it done before, in the Mikoto household. But senpai… they’ve always taken it to another level. They’re the real deal when it comes to this tradition."

Suguru nodded thoughtfully, glancing around at the intricate decorations. "It’s rare to see someone so deeply connected to their heritage like this. It’s impressive."

Nanami, still somewhat grumpy from the trip, nevertheless looked interested. "It must be a lot of pressure, carrying on such an important tradition."

"It is. She’s the only third one to hold Hiromi’s cursed technique. So she’s held in high regard." Satoru agreed, his gaze still fixed on the doors you had disappeared through. "But senpai handles it like it’s nothing. That’s just how they are."

As they talked, the soft sounds of preparations being made drifted through the temple. The atmosphere grew more reverent, the chatter fading into a respectful silence as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

When the doors finally opened again, they all turned to look. You emerged, dressed in the finest Heian-era clothing, each layer of silk and brocade meticulously arranged. The colors were vibrant, yet harmonious, a testament to the skill and care that had gone into the ensemble. Your hair was styled in the traditional manner, adorned with delicate ornaments that caught the light as you moved.

The group fell silent, their eyes drawn to you as you approached the altar. Gojo Satoru felt his breath catch in his throat, completely awe-struck. He had seen you in combat, had witnessed your strength and skill countless times, but this was different. This was a side of you he had never truly seen before—regal, composed, every movement filled with grace and purpose.

As you took your place before the altar, the room seemed to hold its breath. The flickering candlelight reflected off the golden statue of Bishamon, the god of war and warriors, who stood as the protector of the temple. You began to dance, your movements slow and deliberate, each gesture a prayer offered up to the deity.

The bells chimed softly in time with your steps, the melody hauntingly beautiful. The sleeves of your kimono floated gracefully through the air, and the rhythm of your movements told a story of reverence, dedication, and unbroken tradition. Every step, every turn, was imbued with a power that transcended the physical, connecting the past with the present, the divine with the mortal.

Satoru was mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced with an expression of deep respect and admiration. He had always known you were special, but seeing you like this—fully embracing your role as a descendant of the Hiromi clan, leading this sacred ritual with such grace and authority—was something he hadn’t anticipated.

As the dance continued, the room seemed to glow with a warmth that went beyond the physical. It was as if the very spirit of the temple had come alive, watching over the ritual with benevolent eyes. The other sorcerers watched in respectful silence, each of them feeling the weight of the moment, understanding that they were witnessing something truly sacred.

When the dance finally came to an end, you stood before the altar, hands folded in a final gesture of prayer. The room was silent, the only sound was the soft crackling of the braziers. Then, slowly, you turned to face your audience, your expression calm and serene.

The group remained silent, each of them still processing what they had just witnessed. Satoru, however, couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He had always known you were extraordinary, but tonight, that belief had been solidified in a way he hadn’t expected.

As you stepped down from the altar, Satoru caught your eye, and for a brief moment, there was an understanding between you—something that didn’t need to be spoken. It was in the quiet awe in his gaze, in the way he nodded slightly, acknowledging what you had just done.

"That was… amazing." Shoko finally said, breaking the silence, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Right?” Utahime grinned from ear to ear. “Senpai’s been practicing this for months!”

“I always wondered how they have the time to do all this.” Kusakabe whispered under his breath. “That was just….amazing.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, a rare look of respect on his usually calm face. "Yeah. Truly."

Nanami, who had been skeptical about the whole thing, couldn’t help but nod as well. "I can see why this tradition is so important."

Haibara, always the optimist, beamed at you. "You were incredible, senpai!"

You smiled softly, bowing your head in thanks. "Thank you. I’m glad you could all be here to witness it. It means a lot to me."

As the night continued, the group moved on to the other festivities, but Satoru remained quiet, still caught up in the image of you dancing under the temple’s sacred light. He knew he would never forget this New Year, nor the way you had shown them all the true depth of your heritage and strength.

As the night wore on, the temple grounds gradually filled with the sounds of celebration. The solemnity of the ritual had given way to a more festive atmosphere, with laughter and chatter echoing off the ancient stone walls. The group of sorcerers mingled, sharing stories and enjoying the warmth of the small fires that had been lit to stave off the winter chill.

Satoru, however, found himself oddly quiet amidst the festivities. He stood a little apart from the others, his gaze often drifting back to where you were, speaking with Utahime and Kusakabe near the shrine. The image of you during the dance was still fresh in his mind, replaying over and over again like a scene from a film.

He had always admired you—respected you, even. You were his dependable senpai, someone who had taught him much, someone who had always been there. But tonight, something had shifted.

The way you had moved, the way you had commanded the space during the ritual, had revealed a side of you that he hadn’t fully grasped before. It wasn’t just about strength or skill. It was about who you were at your core—a person deeply connected to your heritage, someone who carried the weight of tradition with grace and dignity.

As he watched you now, a realization began to creep up on him, one that he hadn’t seen coming. It wasn’t just admiration he felt. There was something more—something deeper that made his heart beat a little faster, made him more aware of your every movement, every word.

It hit him all at once, like a sudden gust of wind that took his breath away. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the one who was always so sure of himself, found himself completely and utterly disarmed by this newfound awareness.

He liked you. A lot. More than he hoped.

The thought was startling, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it. Love wasn’t something he had ever given much thought to—his life was too chaotic, too filled with danger and responsibility. But standing here, watching you laugh with the others, he couldn’t deny it. It was there, unmistakable and undeniable, a feeling that had been building without him even realizing it.

Shoko noticed his distant expression and wandered over, nudging him with her elbow. "You’ve been quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?"

Satoru blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He glanced at Shoko, then back at you, still trying to process what he had just figured out. "Just… thinking." he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "That’s a first. What about?"

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Senpai."

Shoko followed his gaze and immediately understood. Her usual smirk softened into something more genuine. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I think I do."

Shoko didn’t tease him this time. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on you. "You know, it’s not surprising. They’re… special."

"Yeah." Satoru agreed quietly, his eyes never leaving you. "They really are."

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Satoru felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, anxiety, and something he wasn’t quite sure how to name. Love was a powerful thing, and for someone like him, it was both thrilling and terrifying.

But as he watched you smile, saw the way you interacted with the people around you, he knew one thing for certain: whatever came next, whatever he had to face because of this realization, he was ready for it. Because this feeling, this love—he knew it was worth it.

"Guess I’ve got some things to figure out," he muttered, more to himself than to Shoko.

She chuckled softly. "You’ll manage. You always do."

Satoru smiled, feeling a little more grounded. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this newfound love, but for now, just knowing it, acknowledging it, was enough. The night was still young, and there was time—time to enjoy this moment, time to figure out what to do next.

As the celebration continued, he allowed himself to relax, to savor the warmth of the fire and the sound of your laughter. There was no rush. For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo was content to just be—content to stand by, to watch, and to let his heart lead him wherever it wanted to go.

February 2010

HE HAD NEVER EXPECTED THIS OUT OF HIS LIFE. In the first months after your marriage, Gojo Satoru found himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions he hadn’t fully anticipated. Marriage, to him, had always been an abstract concept—something distant and almost inconceivable.

After all, he was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, someone who walked a path few could follow, always teetering on the edge of danger. He had grown accustomed to a life where attachments were fleeting, where relationships were superficial at best, and where he never had to worry about being tied down by anything or anyone.

But now, everything had changed. With a simple gold band on his finger, a tangible symbol of a bond he never thought he’d have, Satoru realized he was in completely unfamiliar territory. The weight of that ring was more than just the metal—it was the responsibility, the commitment, and the vulnerability that came with it.

In those early days, he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, his hand subconsciously reaching out to make sure you were still there, a silent reassurance that this wasn’t just a dream. He’d never been one to fear anything, but the thought of losing you, of this newfound connection slipping through his fingers, sent a chill down his spine. It was a feeling he didn’t quite know how to process—a mixture of fear and protectiveness, of love and uncertainty.

Satoru had always prided himself on being in control, of being able to predict and outmaneuver any threat. But this—this was different. Loving you, being married to you, was something he couldn’t strategize his way through. There were no enemies to defeat, no curses to exorcize, just the simple, profound reality of sharing his life with someone else. And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.

He’d catch himself watching you when you weren’t looking, his gaze softening in a way that was so unlike the confident, cocky sorcerer everyone knew. He marveled at how easily you fit into his life, how you managed to break through the walls he had built up over the years. The way you understood him, the way you didn’t flinch in the face of his power or his occasional bouts of arrogance—it was as if you had always been meant to be there, by his side, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

But with that grounding came a vulnerability that Satoru wasn’t used to. He was no longer just the strongest sorcerer—he was your husband, a role that demanded a different kind of strength, one that he was still learning to wield. The idea of being responsible for someone else’s happiness, of being someone you could rely on, made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. Could he really be the partner you deserved? Could he protect you not just from the dangers of the world, but from his own flaws and insecurities?

These questions haunted him in the quiet moments, when the world slowed down and it was just the two of you. He was used to facing challenges head-on, but this was different. This was about being present, being open, being honest—things that didn’t come naturally to him. And yet, despite the doubts and the fears, there was something about being with you that made him want to try, to be better, to grow into the role he never thought he’d take on.

As the months passed, Satoru began to understand that marriage wasn’t about being perfect, or about having all the answers. It was about the journey you were both on, together, learning and growing with each step.

He realized that it was okay to be unsure, to be afraid, as long as he was willing to face those fears with you by his side. And slowly, he started to let go of the idea that he had to be invincible, that he had to carry the weight of the world on his own. Because now, he had you, and that was a strength unlike anything he had ever known.

He’d never been one to doubt himself, but when it came to you, things were different. There were moments when he would catch himself overthinking, a rarity for him. Did you really want to be married to him, or had circumstances forced your hand? The thought gnawed at him more often than he’d like to admit.

After all, your relationship hadn’t exactly been conventional. You had always been enigmatic, revealing only pieces of yourself when asked, keeping much of your life private. Even when Satoru confessed his feelings, he wasn’t entirely sure how you felt. You accepted his proposal, but he couldn’t shake the lingering suspicion that you might have done so out of obligation or to avoid being entangled with the Zen’in clan—a fate worse than anything he could imagine for you.

There were nights when he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling of your shared room, trying to figure out how to navigate this new reality. He loved you—he knew that much. But he was terrified that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had simply chosen the lesser of two evils, and he was the one left trying to make sense of it all.

Satoru wasn’t used to feeling insecure. He was used to being in control, always confident in his abilities and decisions. But with you, everything was different. You were his equal in so many ways—strong, intelligent, capable—but you were also someone he couldn’t quite read, someone who could keep secrets even from him.

One evening, as you both sat in the quiet of your home, Satoru couldn’t keep it in any longer. You were sipping tea, looking as serene as ever, while he fidgeted with his hands, uncharacteristically restless.

“Can I ask you something?” he began, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “Of course.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “When we got married… Did you… I mean, did you want to?”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—sometimes I wonder if you did it because you really wanted to or because it was… the better option. Better than being forced into something with the Zen'in clan.”

You set your tea down, regarding him carefully. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his question hanging in the air. Then, you reached out, taking his hand in yours.

“Satoru…..” you began, your voice steady, “I won’t lie to you. I didn’t have the kind of love story that most people dream of. My life was never about fairy tales or perfect endings. And yes, part of me did see our marriage as a way to avoid a fate I didn’t want.” You squeezed his hand, your gaze never leaving his. “But that’s not the only reason I said yes.”

His breath caught as he listened, his eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. “Then what made you say yes, to me being your husband?”

“I said yes because I trust you.” you continued, your voice soft but firm. “I trust you in ways I’ve never trusted anyone before. And… I wanted to see where that could lead. I may not have been in love with you when we first got married, but I knew there was potential for something real between us. Something worth exploring.”

Satoru’s heart swelled at your words, but there was still a part of him that needed to know more. “And now?” he asked quietly. “How do you feel now?”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached your eyes. “Now? I don’t regret it for a second. You’ve become someone I care about deeply, someone I respect and… yes, someone I can truly….deeply love.”

The relief that washed over Satoru was almost overwhelming. He hadn’t realized just how much he had to hear those words until you spoke them. He knew that maybe you felt them, maybe you shared his feelings, his understanding. But to hear them? That’s a whole different thing. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his usual confidence beginning to return.

“Good….good.” he murmured, pulling you into his arms, holding you close. “Because I really, really care deeply for you, and maybe one day…..I wasn’t sure what I’d do if you didn’t feel the same.”

You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest. “I guess we’re both learning how to navigate this together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I think we’ll figure it out. After all, we’re together. We can handle anything.”

And in that moment, with you in his arms, Satoru knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was ready to face them. Because he wasn’t alone—he had you, and that was more than enough.

epilogue

March 2015

It was one of those rare, peaceful afternoons when everything seemed to align perfectly. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the Gojo household was uncharacteristically quiet. Well, almost quiet.

Satoru Gojo, the ever-proud husband and now father, was lounging on the couch with a smirk that could light up a room. In front of him stood Megumi and Tsumiki, both of them sporting expressions of mild confusion and curiosity.

Satoru had been waiting for this moment—when the kids would finally ask about the somewhat mysterious nature of his marriage to you. And now, with Satoshi—a tiny bundle of energy strapped to Satoru’s chest in a baby carrier—he was more than ready to provide an answer.

“So, how did you and Gen–san end up married?” Tsumiki asked, her tone innocent but her eyes sharp, clearly expecting an interesting story.

Megumi, ever the skeptic, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense. You’re you… and they’re… well, them.”

Satoru grinned, patting Satoshi’s back gently as the baby cooed happily in the carrier. “Why, that’s easy! It’s because they love me!”

The room went silent for a moment as Megumi and Tsumiki processed Satoru’s answer. The stillness hung in the air, almost as if time itself had paused. Then, Megumi rolled his eyes in that exasperated way he often did, clearly unimpressed by whatever explanation Satoru had given this time. Tsumiki, on the other hand, couldn’t help but giggle, her laughter light and infectious, breaking the tension with ease.

Little Satoshi, cradled comfortably against Satoru’s chest, joined in with his own soft laughter, the sound a mix of pure joy and innocence. His tiny hands clutched at Satoru’s shirt, his laughter causing his small body to wiggle slightly in his father’s arms.

Satoru blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the chorus of reactions around him. For a brief second, he looked almost confused, as if he hadn’t quite expected that response. But then, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, softening his usual cocky expression. In that moment, surrounded by the ones he loved, Satoru felt a warmth in his chest that made everything else seem distant and unimportant.

“That can’t be the whole story.” Megumi muttered, clearly unimpressed with Satoru’s self-satisfied grin. “I won’t believe Gen–san falling in love with you like that.”

Tsumiki leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Come on, Satoru–san, there has to be more to it than that.”

Satoru chuckled, his trademark grin still plastered on his face. “Well, if you must know, it all started with my irresistible charm. I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with this face?” He pointed to himself, looking ridiculously smug.

Satoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands, making the whole scenSatoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands with pure delight. The sound of his laughter, so innocent and full of life, echoed through the room, adding to the already absurd scene. His bright eyes sparkled as he looked up at Satoru, clearly enjoying the attention and the light-hearted atmosphere.

Satoru’s smile grew wider as he watched his son, the absurdity of the moment not lost on him. The combination of Megumi’s eye roll, Tsumiki’s giggles, and Satoshi’s adorable antics made the whole situation feel almost surreal—like a snapshot of a life he had never imagined for himself, yet couldn’t imagine living without now.e even more absurd. Life was great, he thinks. No matter what happened before.

Megumi groaned, rubbing his temples as if dealing with Satoru was giving him a headache. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you!” Satoru responded cheerfully, clearly missing—or ignoring—the point.

Tsumiki, always the more patient of the two, tried again. “But really, what made you two decide to get married? Was it some big romantic gesture?”

Satoru paused, his grin softening as he thought back to the moments leading up to your marriage. “It wasn’t really like that,’miki.” he said, his tone more genuine now. “It was more… complicated. But in the end, we realized we wanted to be together. And so we made it happen.”

Megumi and Tsumiki exchanged a look, sensing there was more to the story than Satoru was letting on. That doesn’t seem to be how you told the story. You were more straightforward than your husband, but Satoru got the complicated right. Nothing about the story was ever simple. But now that you are here, nearly five years later. What is complicated to a whole lifetime of happiness?

“And then they fell head over heels in love with me!” Satoru added quickly, not wanting to lose the lightheartedness of the moment. “Then bam! You guys came into our lives and made more love grow! Like kabam!”

Tsumiki laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re such a goof, Satoru-san.”

“Maybe I am, ‘miki!” Satoru replied, his grin returning full force. “But I’m their goof, and that’s all that matters.”

Megumi sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess if they can put up with you, that says something.”

Satoru beamed, clearly taking that as a compliment. “Exactly! Now, who wants ice cream? Satoshi here has a craving.”

As if on cue, Satoshi babbled happily, his tiny hands reaching up toward Satoru’s face, his little fingers grasping at the air as he tried to touch his father. Satoru leaned down slightly, letting Satoshi’s hands brush against his cheeks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the child’s excitement.

Tsumiki giggled at the sight, her amusement evident. “I think that’s just you, Satoru-san,” she teased, her tone playful.

Satoru shrugged, completely unbothered by the light jab. “Well, Satoshi is my son,” he declared with a grin, gently nuzzling his cheek against Satoshi’s tiny hand. “My little dawn, my copycat! He’s bound to inherit my great taste in sweets!”

His words were met with another round of giggles from Tsumiki, while Satoshi, as if understanding his father’s pride, continued to babble cheerfully, his joy infectious and filling the room with warmth. You finally came around the corner, fully dressed to go out for the day. You grinned at everyone.

“My love! Woah, you look dashingly extraordinarily fantastically—”

“Satoru.” You giggled, looking into his deep cerulean eyes. Full of love, full of wonder— for you. “Your compliments don’t have to be that long, baby.”

“Huh!? But how will the world know how much I love my beloved?”

You smiled, walking over to him. You placed a kiss on Satoshi’s massive cheeks, eliciting him to laugh. Then you looked at your husband and leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He smiled against your lips, enjoying the touch of your lips against his own. When you parted lips, he looked dazed with love for you.

“New lip gloss?” He asked you, grinning. “It’s more fruity than before.”

“Do you love it?”

He grinned harder. “I do!”

“Ugh, married people.” Megumi gagged, looking at the two of you.

Tsumiki swooned with a smile on her face. “Ah, married people.”

With that, the conversation shifted to plans for an impromptu ice cream outing, and any lingering questions about your marriage to Satoru were put on hold—at least for now. Sweets came first in your family. But as they all headed out the door, there was a sense of contentment in the air, a feeling that whatever the story behind your marriage was, it was something that had brought everyone closer together. And that, in the end, was all that really mattered.

As the four of you headed out to the nearest ice cream shop, the lively chatter filled the air. Satoru, as usual, was at the center of attention, effortlessly juggling his roles as the strongest sorcerer, doting father, and husband with a charm that was uniquely his.

Satoshi, snug in his baby carrier, was babbling away, occasionally pulling at Satoru’s white hair, fascinated by its softness. Tsumiki walked beside them, laughing at Satoshi’s antics, while Megumi trailed slightly behind, trying to mask his amusement with an air of indifference.

Once you reached the shop, Satoru wasted no time in ordering a variety of flavors—far more than anyone could reasonably eat. He carried the overflowing tray of cones and cups to a table outside, grinning as he set it down.

“Alright, everyone, dig in!” he announced, looking far too pleased with himself.

Tsumiki eagerly grabbed a rainbow sprinkle cone, and even Megumi couldn’t resist picking out his favorite flavor, chocolate chip. You grabbed pistachio and your husband Satoru took a seat, carefully adjusting Satoshi in his carrier before picking up his own ice cream. He looked around at his little makeshift family, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and contentment.

As they enjoyed their treat, Tsumiki’s curiosity got the better of her again. “Satoru–san, do you think Satoshi will grow up to be like you?”

Satoru smirked, scooping up a generous amount of ice cream. “Well, he’s got the looks for it, that’s for sure,” he said, tapping Satoshi’s nose with a finger. “But as for the rest, who knows? He’s got plenty of time to figure out what kind of person he wants to be.”

Megumi, ever the realist, chimed in. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your ego.”

Tsumiki tried to stifle her giggle while Satoru feigned offense, dramatically clutching his chest. “My ego? I prefer to think of it as confidence. And besides, who wouldn’t want to be like me? I’m the complete package!”

“Because they love me!” Tsumiki teased, echoing Satoru’s earlier statement with a playful grin.

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “Exactly! See, Tsumiki gets it.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You are too much, Satoru.”

“But you love me, don’t you?”

“Fortunately, yes. I do.”

Megumi shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Despite the banter, it was clear to him how much Satoru cared for you and the life you’d built together. Satoru might joke around, but there was no denying the depth of his feelings, especially when it came to you and Satoshi.

After a while, the conversation turned to other topics—school, upcoming missions, and plans for the weekend. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the scene. As they sat there, laughing and talking, it was easy to forget the pressures of their world, if only for a little while.

Finally, when all the ice cream was gone and Satoshi was starting to get sleepy, they decided to head back home. Satoru, now carrying a drowsy Satoshi in his arms, led the way, still chatting animatedly with Tsumiki and Megumi as they walked. Your shopping bags filled one hand and the other, a matcha drink you so adored.

As they neared your home, Megumi suddenly asked, “So, do you think you guys will want more kids?”

You choked on your drink. You coughed. Megumi looked panicked at your state. You haven’t really thought about more kids. Having Megumi, Tsumiki and Satoshi felt more than enough. Tsumiki handed you a wet wipe, worry evident on her face. She took the matcha drink so you could clean yourself.

“You alright, my love?” Satoru asked, fear in his face. “Megumi, get water!”

Megumi nodded as he rushed off. You cleaned your face from the matcha.“I’m…I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just surprised, that's all.”

Megumi finally came back and handed you water. You smiled at him and drank the water slowly. You thanked the boy, patting his head with your free hand. Satoru took a breath of relief and paused, glancing down at the now peacefully sleeping Satoshi, his expression softening.

“We don’t know yet, about more kids. We haven’t thought about it yet.” he said thoughtfully. “If that’s something we both want, then why not? After all, I think we make a pretty good team.”

Tsumiki smiled, nudging Megumi. “I think it would be nice if Satoshi had a little brother or sister to play with.”

Megumi, trying to maintain his usual indifferent facade, just shrugged. “As long as Satoru–san doesn’t try to turn them all into mini versions of himself.”

You smiled. “Another version of me would be a change, don’t you think?”

“Satoru–san would spoil them!” Tsumiki grinned. “I would too!”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I wouldn’t dream of them being like me. I don’t want them to be. Everyone’s got to find their own path, right? I just want them to be happy and strong enough to protect what’s important to them.”

He looks at you and grins. “But another version of you I could hold dear and treasure? I would be the happiest man.”

“Simp.” Megumi snickered as you put down the shopping bags.

As they reached the door, Satoru turned to face them, his grin returning. “And what about it? I’m proud of being a loving husband!”

“What Satoru said, that includes you two as well.” You smiled at Megumi and Tsumiki. “You’re all part of this family now, whether you like it or not. Okay?”

Megumi rolled his eyes, but the small smile on his face gave him away. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go getting any more ideas.”

Tsumiki giggled, and Satoru opened the door, ushering them all inside. “No promises!”

The door closed behind them, shutting out the world as the Gojo household settled in for another evening. And as Satoru laid Satoshi down in his crib, watching the tiny baby sleep, he couldn’t help but feel that life, with all its chaos and surprises, had turned out pretty damn good. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

He smiled to himself, knowing that whatever the future held, he was ready to face it with you, Satoshi, and the rest of the family by his side. Because in the end, it wasn’t just about being the strongest—it was about being loved, and loving in return. And that was something even Satoru Gojo knew he couldn’t do alone.

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tamby-teeze · 11 months ago

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Okay, so I know a solid 40% of the new Fantasy High was about Tracker "There's still deep attraction here" O'Shaughnessy, but HERE ME OUT

Gertie Bladeshield is the perfect woman for Kristen Applebees.

Cause, like, look, there was a lot of talk in episode 11 about impulsivity and chaos as an aspect of Kristen's character, mainly in how it's mirrored in Princess "Kristen if she had money" Naradriel, but it's also been a general focus this season, especially in how she often uses it to guard her emotions. Think back to "That's what you think", an incredible improv moment, but if you look at the big picture, Kristen's estranged parents make an incredibly inflammatory statement about her religion right after actively bullying her little brother, and instead of honoring any of the actual negative emotions she's being filled with in that moment, she pirouettes away. It's brought up in the adventuring party after this exact episode how Kristen is a cleric, a high-wisdom class that is naturally insightful, but uses these silly deflections to hold other people back from being insightful into her (hence Mac & Donna's lifetime insight disadvantage)

This isn't just limited to small moments, too. To take a broader look at the season so far, Kristen's chaotic, shrimp-jumping, wrangler-wearing, salsa-dipping, middle-school-campaigning, steel-workers-union-supporting bid for class president is often shown explicitly as a distraction from her existentially important job as the only cleric of Cassandra. Even when trying to earnestly apologize to Cassandra and prove to them that she's gonna prioritize her over class presidency, the only way she can articulate it is "You're the meat, mama." Her emotions are always guarded by some amount of chaos and impulsivity.

Now, how does that relate to Gertie "I've had a crush on you for a really long time" Bladeshield?

In both of the two scenes we've gotten of The Best D20 NPC (/j (but I do really like her)), Gertie has shown a pretty similar propensity for making bold, chaotic decisions in the heat of the moment. However, in my observation, these decisions do NOT come from a place of emotional suppression. Quite the opposite, actually.

Think back to her Grand Entrance into the narrative. Gertie, being one of the last people awake at Fabian's party, gifts her longtime-crush a jar of honey, something that connects directly to her passion/special-interest of beekeeping, in a homemade container designed as a pun on Kristen's last name. (in hindsight, the crush was very obvious) Then, in the middle of her infodumping to her about honey, Kristen's rich friend makes an incredibly dismissive remark about her good-natured gift. This obviously pisses her off, but unlike Kristen "That's what you think" Applebees, Gertie "I don't give a shit who's kid you are" Bladeshield lets herself feel those emotions very loudly, immediately starts a duel with possibly one of the most accomplished sword-fighters in the history of Aguefort, and declares him a life-long nemesis. She acts very brashly and impulsively, but in a way that doesn't hide her emotions, instead expressing them.

(I know there's a lot of talk about outbursts of anger being tied to Ankarna, but not only does the scene not really seem like foreshadowing to me, it's more interesting to see it through the lens of being Gertie's actual actions)

This trend continues with the 12th most noteworthy thing to have happened in episode 11 (which incredibly high acclaim), where after being explicitly asked to talk about bees by her crush, and being placed inches away from her face, kisses her on the lips. Now, excusing the albeit upsetting lack of consent, it once again shows Gertie acting very impulsively in a way that exposes her feelings to the people she likes. With these two instances of characterization being literally the only two scenes we get with her, it poses her as a very interesting parallel to Kristen, someone who shares in her willingness to make impulsive decisions, but differs wildly from her in the way she uses them to react to strong emotions.

However, does this really make Gertie the Autism to her ADHD?

(idk if Gertie really shows autistic traits, I just wanted to say that) Well, part of what Tracker a good companion for Kristen was that, as a fellow cleric, she naturally had very high wisdom, meaning she had enough insight to look past the layers of shrimp and salsa and engage with her on a deep level. However, clerics aren't the only class that cast spells with wisdom, so do rangers, including swarm-keeper rangers, which is a subclass that both has a good few abilities focused on spell-casting and was confirmed to be Gertie's subclass in an adventuring party. While her highest stat still could be dex (which, come to think of it, is a hilarious contrast to Kristen), there's no doubt that Gertie has a higher chance than most at being able to look past Kristen's barriers and see the complex hive of sweet, buzzing emotions underneath.

Hell, maybe that's where Gertie's crush comes from in the first place. Maybe, seeing this popular, proudly sapphic cleric be incredibly playful and chaotic on school grounds, she not only saw a bit of herself, but a little more. Perhaps, the type of mind that dedicates itself to allowing small, harmless critters to prosper even when no-one cares to join her club, is also the type of mind able to recognize when someone isn't allowing their truest emotions to prosper, making her wonder if they might have something to gain from sharing some of that chaos, using it not to hide, but to be free.

Or maybe it's just cause her last name has "bees" in it, idk.

#even if Gertie's crush gets played off as a bit #I love gertie so goddamn much #and she deserves more love #fantasy high #gertie bladeshield #kristen applebees #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 fhjy #fantasy high junior year #bladebees #beesbees #appleshield #gert's bees

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its-cartooncrazy · 1 month ago

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[Image description: a list of all tarot cards in the major arcana, along with their meanings. They have been matched to a vessel from slay the princess, using the drawings from the memories page. Full text ID under the cut.]

Hello I spent like a week being abnormal about this (no I did not know the tarot cards by heart before this, yes I do now) so here is my definitive list of which princess matches which tarot card. If you disagree with me then you're wrong (joking, please feel free to tell me with your reasoning, I'd love to hear it!!)

Full list of my reasonings under the cut (scroll to the big text saying "Reasonings" to skip the ID)

[Full ID: three columns, listing first the tarot number and name, then card meanings, then the princess. They are as follows:

0. The Fool. cycle of life, birth & death, hope, optimism, childish, spontaneous, lateral thinking. The Damsel

1. The Magician. practical, success, witty, at home, central nervous system & lungs & senses, unemotional, over analyses. The Moment of Clarity

2. The High Priestess. heightened perception, unknown, mystery, occult, patience, intuition, strong independent woman, unable to control or dominate. The Wraith

3. The Empress. powerful women, creativity, growth, beauty, birth, fertility, warm, loving, sensual, enjoys life to the full. The Adversary

4. The Emperor. structure & power, competitive, achievement, authority, hierarchy, dominance. The Tower

5. The Hierophant. status quo, appearances, marriage, teaching, interpreting, structure, routine. Happily Ever After

6. The Lovers. love, romance, union, soulmates, resolved inner conflict, choice. The Wild

7. The Chariot. reward, victory hard won, don’t give up, try again, vehicles, overcoming obstacles, self discipline, hard work, focus. The Beast

8. Justice. logical decision, balanced mind, negotiation, truth, honesty, integrity. The Spectre

9. The Hermit. Solitude, thinking, introspection, learning, teaching. The Prisoner

10. The Wheel of Fortune. Fate, coincidence, luck, cycles, confusion. The Stranger

11. Strength. generous, loving, courage, conviction, optimism, resolve, generous, antagonism resolved, animals (loving). The Den

12. The Hanged Man. unable to move, temporary pause, patience, self limiting, trapped, sacrifice, wait for info. The Cage

13. Death. cycle of death & rebirth, transformation, something is ending, confronting smth alarming, major change. The Eye of the Needle

14. Temperance. balanced, adaptable, see both sides, calm, solve disputes, works well in a team, mixing opposites, blending, time. The Princess and the Dragon

15. The Devil. material world, buying love, material security, mental health, powerlessness, violence, obsession, secrecy. The Witch

16. The Tower. disruptive, violent, necessary change, enlightenment, trauma, loss, upheaval, tragedy. The Fury

17. The Star. hope, new life, fresh insight, phys or ment wounds heal, heal & inspire others, help, human rights, nature, equality. The Thorn

18. The Moon. dreams, imagination, subconscious, illusion, vagueness, deception, fear, anxiety. The Nightmare

19. The Sun. happiness & vitality, energy, confidence, children, freedom, fun, self expression. The Razor

20. Judgement. decisions, awakening, rebirth, healing, homesickness, celebrate success, self evaluation, blame. The Grey

21. The World. end of a cycle, accomplishment, journey, belonging, wholeness. The Apotheosis

End ID]

Reasonings

The Fool I put the damsel down for pretty early, just because of the childish optimism, but later I was thinking about the damsel route and why it wouldn't fit the Lovers and I said the damsel is more about how they are rushing into it. And then I remembered the Fool is about rushing in lol. I couldn't really consider anything else after that

The Magician mentions the central nervous system and lungs, so I considered putting the nightmare here for paranoids mantra, but the card didn't really fit her that well and the central nervous system is different to the autonomous nervous system anyway so. The Moment of Clarity gets this spot for her practical breaking of you, and the success it brings her. Not one of my easiest placements but I'm still pretty happy with it

The high Priestess was hard to place because she's about the occult, and powerful women who don't need a man. If only there was a princess who fit that mold... (/s if it wasn't clear) so yeah. Half the princesses were written down here at one point. The Wraith gets this spot because I found other places for all the others I guess and also because "She could not find her strength in others, so she found it in herself."

The empress is again a powerful woman, but a loving and nurturing one, who encourages growth. It was both the growth and the partnership she has that gave her the adversary

The Emperor is about hierarchy and dominance. I knew very early on that the tower would fit best here. "This one is dominance."

The hierophant is about structure, appearances, and also marriage. Happily Ever After is all about being trapped within this structure, with ties specifically to marriage. Literally tell me I'm wrong?

The Lovers. Okay. So there's a few this could be. The Damsel, with the voice of the smitten? Not really as equal a partnership, as I mentioned in the Fool section. They don't really know each other. The Thorn, where you can kiss her? Well that ignores like. The entire rest of the route so no. Happily ever after? Maybe, but I prefer her in hierophant. The adversary, with your equal partnership in kicking each others asses? Easily, but I also put her elsewhere. Ironically, the Lovers was one of the last two cards I placed, and the only princesses left were the wild and the grey, and unfortunately I couldn't agree with the drowned grey going here. The wild has you literally being one, achieving a common goal. It's not my favourite placement but I dont hate it so.

The chariot is about putting in the hard work and seeing it through, and she does make an effort to capture you (swallow you whole) and bring you to the door so she can escape. Also it's about vehicles, and she literally acts as a vehicle for you. That idea was too funny to not do tbh

Justice is one of three cards that mention balance, so I wanted one of the ones where you merge to go here. Much like the scales of justice, it is about considering all sides and picking fairly, so it had to go to the spectre, who gets justice for her murder when you help her out. The spectre was written down for like half the cards on this list though my god

The hermit is about solitude and self introspection. The prisoner, sitting in silence for millenia, felt very fitting. I also wanted the cage to be here, because the image of the hermit is him holding up a lantern, and having the cage holding her head like that would be fun, but she fit better in the hanged man so.

The wheel of fortune was one of my later picks. Fate, and also cycles. Its a little vague, and can fit with quite a few princesses, but I put the stranger here. Is it the vibes? Something about coincidences and not meeting her feels similar, but I cant put my finger on it so if you can explain please do.

Strength, but of the inner sort. The Den didn't really have anywhere better to go, I don't know if instinct matches with any of the cards. I felt confidence in ones self was pretty similar to instinct, plus it has ties to animals.

The hanged man is self restrictions. I would have liked to put the thorn here, honestly, hanging from her vines. Ultimately it was the best choice for the cage, though, and I had another good option for the thorn. Anyway, the cage can be hanging from all those chains and hooks. "This one is a body that convinced herself she was only a set of eyes." Sounds like her limits are self imposed for sure!

Death and the tower have similar meanings in that things are coming to an end, and both of them I felt were good fits for both eye of the needle and the Fury. Ultimately I put eotn here because its more cyclical, and when she was the adversary she wanted to continue fighting over and over again.

Temperance is the second balance card, specifically about blending this time. Opposites merging, solving disputes. Felt very much like the princess and the dragon chapter. "This one is perspectives bleeding into one."

The Devil is a person tricking you, but also material security. I only ever put the witch down for this one, and I only ever put her down for one card lol. The mutual trickery and betrayal in her chapter felt too fitting. "A trick behind your back, and a trick behind mine."

The tower, like I said, is similar to death in that they are both about things ending. But the tower is more dramatic, about the sudden upheaval, so I thought thematically it matched with the Fury better, who is very upset and very taking it out on you. This is one of the cards I knew the meaning of from the beginning, so unfortunately there was never a point in which the tower was matched with the tower :(

The star is hope and healing. One of many that the spectre could have matched with. (I wanted to make her star shaped wound be the star... oh well). The Thorn fits well here, if you both choose to end the cycle of violence and leave together. The star also has ties to nature, which fits with the thorns... thorns... I would have preferred her at the hanged man for her self limiting, being trapped in her own thorns, but this is also a very good choice so I'm not too mad lol

The moon is fear and anxiety. Plus the moon only comes out at night, when everyone is sleeping, when you have nightmares! But mostly it's the vagueness, mystery and anxiety stuff.

The sun being joy meant I knew I wanted the razor here from the beginning. I briefly considered putting her at death (for the cycles, and also the uh, death) but I think the dying part of her route is not actually that important? Anyway the razor is my wife and I'm glad she's enjoying herself. "She is cruelty. But she is also joy." See, shifty gets it!

Judgement is where you look back on everything and judge yourself. It was one of the last two cards to be assigned, and the wild did not fit here at all. Plus the grey sort of punishes you for your actions? It's unavoidable, is my point.

The world is accomplishment, wholeness. She is as close to becoming the goddess she truly is as any vessel ever comes. "This one sits at the cusp of awakening." Shifty says. Also Apotheosis literally means climax so I had to put her at the end of the tarot, you understand.

So yeah that's that. Thanks for reading, if you managed to get through all that. Feel free to debate different interpretations at me, I'd love to hear em!

#slay the princess #straight up dont know what to tag this as #tarot #i guess i mean i did literally interpet all the cards #i am not going to tag all the princesses

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arahdow · 8 months ago

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WHO?! pt. 1

Pairing. Sonic x reader. Shadow x reader.

Content. fem reader. they mention another girls name as a prank. insecurities, angst but most of all hurt to comfort bcs in this house we appreciate aftercare after a sad moment. mhm humor.

Word count. 1.7 k

A/N. this is a two part post!! the reason i divided it was bcs i’m having a lot of trouble writing for silver and knuckles (i’m thinking on adding scourge too) 😫 so i’m trying to give myself some more time BUT in the meantime please have this and forgive me for not posting something of mine in a while 🤧 i assure you i’m working on different requests and ideas, so pls be patient and wait for the best!!

+ no beta read anddd a lil too ooc maybe

Sonic was always a prankster, but his prank backfired? That’s new…

Another tiring day at work, helping her coworkers get their job done even when she had her own work, doing extra hours, even walking home felt like a burden. She only wanted to lie down for at least the whole weekend.

Sighing, she opened the door of her shared home with the blue hero, Sonic the hedgehog. He called himself a hero, something along the lines of ‘blue justice’ and she always laughed at his antics. She wanted nothing more than to hug him and sleep in his embrace.

As she walked to the kitchen, she heard Sonic humming and washing the pots he used to make dinner. He wasn’t used to cooking, but he liked to treat his girlfriend, especially when she went overtime.

“Hello.” She greeted, her voice weak as she noticed the delicious smell of the food he made.

Wiping his hands, he turned to his girlfriend, kissing her on the forehead. “Go and change, I'll be waiting darling.”

The girl nodded with a sleepy smile and went to their room, before she could enter, Sonic yelled: “Be sure not to get asleep, Amy!”

And it’s like her whole world crashed. Feeling like a cold splash of water running down her body, she soon felt her stomach drop. Amy? Why Amy? Was Amy there before? Why was he mentioning her? What?

A whole world of ‘what’s’ and ‘why’s’ ran through her head. Still, it wasn’t enough for her to stop feeling hungry, so, even if she wanted to stay by herself now, she knew if she didn’t eat she'd probably pass out in their shared room.

Feeling a sting on her chest and throat, the girl changed herself and walked to the kitchen again. Her appetite forced her to meet her lover, but was he really tough? Was he still… Hers?

In silence, she sat beside Sonic starting to eat. The man looked at her confused but followed her movements without a word. She always thanked him for the food and let him have the first bite. It was a cute tradition between them and now she just went straight to eat. He couldn’t blame her, so he accepted it and kept on eating.

Sonic almost forgot the prank. Honestly, he was expecting some kind of teasing back, as his lover always had a callback, but now? She seemed too tired to add something of her own so he left it at that.

He was ready to talk about something else when he noticed tears staining her face. “Dear? Wha-” He hurriedly went for a napkin and gave it to her. “What is it?”

The girl refused the napkin and turned away from him, her tears running free. Then he stared at her barely touched food. “Lov-”

“Why Amy?”

Sonic bit his tongue, looking at her. Amy?

“What’s with-”

“Do you love her? Again?!”

The man flinched a bit at her broken voice. His chest constricted with pain.

“Listen, I-”

“I don’t…” The girl scoffed and braced herself. “I don’t want to know the details, just, have you fallen in love with Amy again?”

He reeled back, inhaling with insight. Oh. He. Fucked. Up.

“No, love-”

“Then why mention her? Why is her name in your lips when I’m the one you swore to spend your life with?” Sonic was already panicking inside watching the meltdown his girl was having.

“It’s not like that!” He managed to say, stumbling on his words to prevent her from cutting him off again. “Love, it was a prank.”

The girl looked at him, her tears suddenly stopping, it almost looked humoristic if it wasn’t for the whole reason she was crying.

“I’m sorry you’d thought I could do that to you,” he explained, standing up and wiping her tears by himself with the napkin she refused to grab. “I was trying to be funny like we always are but… I guess it wasn’t the right timing.”

“No shit.” She replied, a sarcastic tone in her voice as she sighed, the weight on her shoulders disappearing. “Ah, thank chaos.”

“I mean, how could I do that to you when I already have an engagement ring somewhere in my room?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. Wait. “Wait what?”

“What?” He echoed, the atmosphere in the room changing completely as he winked at her. They were in for a long night, but first, he had to make it up to her, and he knew exactly how.

Sonic told him about it and said it was funny, so Shadow mentioned it while his partner was venting because he thought it was good timing. spoilers: it wasn’t.

“Can you fucking believe it, Shadow? My sister wants me to attend this stupid gathering, I told her it was fucking useless, I don’t give two shits about them because of what they did in the past, they never… They’ve never even fucking apologized! I’m just so mad right now, how can they be so stupid? Idiots! But you know what’s worse? The fact that…”

Shadow looked at his partner, listening intently at her venting. His gaze went in between her and her hands folding the laundry. His mind somewhere else as he recalled a conversation he had in the morning with his blue copy.

“This is a good way to cheer your girl up! Believe me! I’ve tried it before and it totally works.” Shadow looked at him, a skeptic look in his eyes.

“Are you sure pranking her is the best way to cheer her up? But why if it’s something vulnera-”

“Naaah, I don’t think anything is that bad that you have to care too much about it.” Sonic explained while munching on his fifth chili dog of the day. “And besides, it’s just a simple harmless prank, she’ll laugh and it’d be alright.”

“...And I was like, ‘You remember what auntie said the last time I was there, why do you want me to go so fucking bad?’ ugh, it’s like a nightmare, I can’t wrap my head around it, really!”

He knew it was something serious because she was cursing a lot, or maybe she felt kind of free now that she was letting it all out? Was it a great time to do that prank? Maybe she’ll stop running in circles and just give herself some time…

“That sounds hard, Sora.”

Silence.

His face was stern, his position sitting on the bed seemed relaxed, but on the inside he was gauging her next words or actions in response to his words. Pressing his lips, he waited for her reaction, but it seemed like the world just stopped, did he stop time unconsciously? No, because the ceiling fan was still moving over their heads.

“What did you just say?”

But he didn’t reply. More like he couldn’t. He already wanted to say it was a prank, but he stopped himself. Maybe if he waited a bit more… He could hear the sound of her cries.

Her cries?

His mind shifted violently, attentive to the sound of distress coming from the girl. Shadow took a step, horrified at the scene. She covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees as she kept on crying.

That was his sign. Kneeling in front of her, Shadow took her by the wrist, relieved that she didn’t push him away instantly.

“Shh sh, it was a prank, I'm sorry, I wasn’t being serious.” He said, trying to reason with her. That seemed to make the trick as she stopped for a bit, head still on her hands as she seemed to take a deep breath. The calmness didn’t last long as the girl shook her head and kept on crying, her face still fully covered.

He tried getting her hands away from her face, trying to get a glimpse of her eyes, wanting his point to come across, but she wasn’t budging.

Shadow just stared at her, his capacity of dealing with emotions almost close to none as he tried to find a way to solve this situation he himself caused. Lucky for him, her cries started to die down, not because she was less sad, but because she was tired from crying.

Being able to see her eyes eased him for a bit, but something still pulled at the strings of his heart: what would she say now?

The girl got up from the floor, walking out from her room straight to the kitchen. Shadow followed silently, afraid of her next move or word. She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank. Two, three gulps and then she stopped, closing the bottle again. Shadow felt his heart beating hard against his chest with suspense, when she turned at him, her red eyes from crying staring deeply into his.

And then she smiled.

“Damn,” she said, sighing. “I needed that.”

Shadow blinked a few times trying to register her words. “What?”

The girl chuckled and wiped the tears off from her face, staring at him. “Yeah, you think I believed you?” a sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Chaos, you seemed so nonchalant trying to convince me you really had another girl, that was so funny!”

“Wait, you… You faked it?” He asked, still not being able to wrap his head around the entirety of the situation.

“Yeah! Woah, I really needed to cry, I feel lighter now, thanks for the push, Shadz.” She said, winking at the black hedgehog, walking past him to their room again. “And, I recommend you practice your facial expressions, you seemed scared even before I started crying, if you plan on pranking Sonic, you’ll need to try harder.”

The man stood there, shocked as he then turned and questioned. “What the- Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” She asked, stopping before entering the room, turning her head at him.

“That! I-“ He suddenly felt the weight of everything on his chest, making him almost suffocate from the whiplash of emotions he just experienced. “I almost had a heart attack.”

With a playful glint on her eye, she nodded before turning around and keeping on walking. “Suits you right.”

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #shadow #sonic #shadow x reader #sonic x reader #arah ⊚ masterpieces

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pboogerswbb · 2 months ago

Text

SO IT GOES - prologue

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, none Wordcount: 5.6K A/N: LILA IS BACK with a new series. this is the prologue, purely here to give people an insight to our oc Izara (who i already love btw), so not as much paige here, but she will make a much bigger entrance come first chapter of the series. again, ty so much for everyone who hyped this up based solely on the synopsis i wrote and ty for your support! i am so excited for this series you guys don't even know!! this one will be a looooong one so buckle up

Passport? Check. Silk pillowcase? Check. Laptop? Check.

The list seemed to go on and on, filling out three sheets of paper, both front and back. Some people called it excessive but to me it was necessary. It was better to be over prepared than leave things up to chance. I had been making lists all my life, I wasn’t about to stop now. They have worked for me so far.

Flipping through the maroon moleskine notepad in my hands, my green eyes skim over one page after another - grocery list, changes I must make to my skincare routine, presents to buy next Christmas, wedding registry. There’s a sting in my chest as I stop, my french manicured hand brushing over the soft paper: Vitamix blender, Ginori 1735 cake plate, Baccarat candlestick set.

Inhale, exhale. The pain won’t relinquish. I bring my hand to the soft cotton of my turtleneck, rubbing soothing circles on my chest just like my mum used to when I was little.

“There you go Izara, don’t you feel better? It’s a magic trick, it takes the sadness away.”

The black suitcase is laid out on the floor in front of me, clothes folded neatly in their own nooks. I keep rubbing and rubbing but the sadness won’t go away. So I stop, my fingers carefully flipping a few pages forward.

Move to The US

Pros

Good career move?

New experiences

Cons

Leaving my family and friends

Boss talked about promotion for me in the next year

Leaving London

Visa hassle

Expenses

Wedding delayed off

Leaving Jasper (pro?)

My memories of the day resurface, the way I was locked in my car, dreading walking inside where my husband-to-be was expecting me. I had spent all day trying on wedding dresses near Soho, my mom and her sister fawning over Jasper the entire day. To everyone he was the perfect man, charming, nurturing and protective. But they didn’t know half of what I put up with. All day I wanted to scream, to throw a fit, tell everyone that they don’t know anything about my perfect fiancé. But instead I kept my mouth shut, and waited till I got into my car to cry. I didn’t like being vulnerable, for my relatives to see me weak. I had told no one about the conflicting feelings inside me, or the way I had applied for an open position to be a social media producer for the Dallas Wings. That very same morning the position had been offered to me.

So I sat in my car with my trusty lists, as usual. The moment I wasn’t sure whether to write leaving Jasper into the pros or the cons, I knew I had to go. It had been gnawing at my subconscious, making me sick to my stomach. Even according to the list this decision made absolutely no sense. But in my gut I knew had to go - desperately so.

“Izzie, are you done yet? We have to leave soon.”

My brother bursts into the room, watching the way I had undone all the packing that I had naturally finished a week prior. Clothes were all over my childhood bedroom, piles of them standing neatly. After calling off the wedding with Jasper I had decided to move back home, not wanting to stay with him and his temper under the same roof.

“What the hell have you done here?” He chuckles, shaking his head as I stand in the middle of the bedroom, notebook in hand, staring at the half empty suitcase.

“I think I’ve gone crazy Kiran,” I admit with a sigh. Two weeks ago when I accepted the job I had been so sure - now I wasn’t. This was insane, mad, completely, utterly unlike me. To get up and move, to disappoint my parents, to disappoint everyone. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, my life here. Every year I grew older I became more and more unsure. Now at 25 I felt like a complete fool, not knowing anything except this wasn’t the life I wanted. Something had to change - I had to change.

My younger brother walks over, wrapping a hand around my shoulder.

“Yes you have.”

I scoff and push him off. “That’s not helpful!”

He chuckles and begins to pack for me, just as neatly as I had done earlier. Guess being high-strung ran in the family.

“It is mad. But that doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do,” my brother mumbles, neatly folding my black cashmere sweater. “I think it’s good Iz, no matter what mum and dad are saying. Don’t mind them. They’ll come around.”

“I wasn’t raised not to mind them,” I chuckle, looking out the window, ours just one of many of the semi-detached houses extending along the road I grew up on. The cherry trees had just bloomed, pale pink blossoms covering the branches, decorating the pavement.

“Funny that, neither was I,” Kiran laughs and finally zips up my suitcase, picking it up and preparing to carry it to the car. “You got everything? Passport? Wallet? Documents?”

I nod with a smile. Even if we didn’t look almost exactly the same (though, we certainly did), it was impossible not to pick up on the family resemblance.

“I have everything.”

The drive to Heathrow Airport is quiet. Truthfully, I was far too nervous to speak. I could feel my stomach twisting uncomfortably, a nauseating weight on my chest. I watch as we pass the streets of London, the only streets I had ever known. We pass the red double-decker buses, the abandoned phone boxes, eventually making our way onto the highway.

London is cruel, relentless to its residents, yet simultaneously captivating and thrilling. I had travelled enough to know there was no place like it. Nowhere else I could hop on the Northern Line in the bohemian, eclectic Camden, switch tubes and step out to Canary Wharf, where skyscrapers stand tall above you and the streets are buzzing with men in suits, just in 40 minutes or so. The diversity of the city, the way it could feel like a large metropolis as much as a small charming town all at once, depending on where you were. I loved this city, I always would. But it was time for me to move on at least for now. I wasn’t getting what I wanted, not that I knew what that was in the first place.

“Can’t believe my sister’s gonna be working for the league,” Kiran interrupts the silence. “When you meet Bronny you must tell him hi.”

I let out a laugh, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening anywhere else except your delusions.”

“Hey, you never know!” He scoffs as we pull up to terminal 3, the butterflies growing deep in my abdomen.

“You’re such a guy,” I roll my eyes. “I’m working for the WNBA and all you want is to say hi to Lebron James.”

“Well who else is there, Steph?”

In reality, my brother loved basketball, he was the sole reason I knew the first thing about the sport. But he loved pushing my buttons more - and nothing pushed my buttons further than women being underestimated by men.

“A’ja, Stewie, Sabrina, Jewell? Arike plays for the Wings!”

“Never heard of any of them.”

I smack him on the shoulder as he’s parking the car, making him yelp. He was joking of course, but I wasn’t in the mood. Some would argue I was rarely in the mood to joke around but it’s just how I am. High-strung, intense. It was just me, I couldn’t help it. You know how some people have that spark to them? The kind where they step in the room and the place just lights up? That wasn’t me, and I was okay with it. At least I got shit done.

“Okay sorry,” Kiran whines, rubbing his arm. Neither of us wanted to get out, to face the goodbye looming ahead. So we sit for a while.

“Paige Bueckers was drafted there though, right?” My brother asks, staring at the big sign for Terminal 3 above the sliding doors.

“Yeah, she was.”

“She’s tough,” he says and I nod in agreement. I had followed her college career quite a bit, saw her go through injury and rise to the top again. She wasn’t my favourite player, I preferred focusing on the league - but it was undeniable she was a generational talent.

“She’s also really fit,” my brother adds, making me snort.

“Kiran, I'm fairly sure she’s also really gay,” I laugh. My brother turns to me with shock written all over his face.

“You really think so?”

I roll my eyes, “I- well yes. It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

“Damn,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Takes one to know one I guess.”

Another smack on his shoulder, another yelp spilling from his lips. One drunken night years ago I had come out to Kiran as bisexual and now it was his favourite joke in the world. I don’t think he realised I was serious, or that at points in my life I had dated girls as well. Honestly though, I hadn’t even thought about girls that way since I met Jasper. Not that I’d found any girl remotely attractive in the past years, perhaps it had just been a phase.

“You’re going to come back with some 6 '5 American basketball lesbian aren’t you?” He teases, making me roll my eyes.

“We need to head inside,” I laugh, climbing out of the car. I didn’t know much about what would happen, but I certainly wasn’t going to come back with anyone. The time I spend in Dallas would be time dedicated to me, to figuring out who I was, what I wanted. I had no time for love.

I pull the suitcase towards the doors, Kiran on my tail until we both come to a halt right inside. Quickly I check my purse again - passport, phone, wallet, charger, documents. All there. Just one thing left to do.

I turn to my brother and hug him. We had never spent more than a month apart since the day he was born. I had always been the annoying, bossy older sister, ordering him around since he could barely talk. But still, it had all been out of love. I wanted him to be safe and it was my job to protect him. He was my baby brother after all, even now at 23 as he stands 6’0 tall.

“Take care of yourself Izzie,” he whispers, squeezing me tight.

“You too, and of mum and dad please,” I tell him, holding my breath in as to not let any tears fall, though they’re already burning in the corners of my eyes.

We pull apart, and he smiles at me assuringly. “Call mum when you land, we don’t need her getting loopy.”

“I will,” I chuckle. There’s a few seconds of silence that stretches across us, our green eyes locked in each other’s gaze. We don’t need to say these things out loud, we both knew we loved each other.

“Well, have a safe flight and have fun in Dallas,” Kiran says and waves bye, turning around to walk away. “YEEHAW!” He turns around and yells before slipping out through the sliding doors. Laughing, I watch him, the ache in my chest growing exponentially. It was all becoming real. Me in Dallas, Texas.

A couple hours and a long security line later I’m sitting on the ascending plane, gazing out of the window. I stretch out my legs, glad to be short enough to fit in the seats comfortably. I’m holding a copy of War and Peace by Tolstoy in my hands, simply flipping through the pages, my mind too conflicted to focus as I watch the ground beneath me retreating further every second.

I could see Big Ben, The London Eye, Thames stretching across the length of the city, shrinking until we ascend through a thick layer of clouds, making it impossible to see anything. It’s only then I let myself cry, the first tears after ending my engagement only a couple weeks prior. I had no other plan, I needed this to work out desperately.

Jet lag was killing me, but I knew I could never allow it to show. It was the following day of arriving in Dallas. I spent all of yesterday sleeping, trying to let my body adjust to the time difference before my first day on the job.

Of course I had woken up three entire hours before my alarm went off. So when I get to the first media team meeting of the season, I have already had time to drink two coffees, go to the gym, shower, shave, do my jet black hair just to have a crisis and pin it up in a slicked back bun, do my makeup and send emails and make calls to the wedding venue to cancel it. I was on fire and wouldn’t let a little jetlag hold me down.

The maroon turtleneck and black slacks I was wearing had already been decided on the evening before as to avoid any clothing disaster. I wasn’t exactly sure how to dress for a job like this - but as I step into the tall building from the busy streets of Dallas I can tell I’m overdressed. Many of the people around my age are dressed much more laid back than I’m used to, wearing hoodies and jeans - and to my biggest shock of all, sneakers.

As I walk across the entryway the sound of my heels tapping on the tiles echo around the building, my cheeks turning bright red. I knew people were turning to stare, but instead of looking back and checking, I rush to the elevator, slipping in through the doors and facing my reflection. Maybe I was overdressed, but I look nice. The gold earrings decorating my ears contrast against my light brown skin and black hair, making them pop. I smooth over my belt, fixing the way the golden buckle of it was sitting on my slacks when a man around my age walks in just as the doors are about to close.

“Hey there!” He greets me, a charming smile on his face and brown eyes twinkling. His friendliness is so intense it nearly startles me.

“Oh, hey!” I reply, turning towards him. For a moment he looks at me, blinking, perhaps waiting for me to keep talking but when I don’t he’s quick to pick up my slack.

“I’m Trey, I do media stuff for the Wings. Basically a glorified cameraman,” he explains lightheartedly.

“I’m Zari, they just hired me to do social media actually,” I reply, shaking his hand firmly just like my dad always taught me to. There’s a sliver of recognition on Trey’s face as he takes in my words.

“Oh yeah! They said they hired someone new! Didn’t mention you were a Brit tho. Well shit we’re prolly gon’ be working together a lot then,” he says. It’s at that moment I decide that his enthusiasm isn’t fake even though it’s suspiciously intense. Maybe he’s just an energetic guy - maybe he’s just an American.

“I suppose yes!” I chuckle and look over the buttons of the lift. “So, perhaps you know which floor I need to go to then because I don’t?”

“Oh sure thing.”

Pressing on the number 10, the elevator finally begins to move upwards. I’m fiddling with the rings around my fingers, a nervous habit I had.

“You nervous?” Trey asks, picking up on my queues quickly. Guess I wasn’t as composed as I’d liked.

“A bit,” I admit.

Trey chuckles and wraps an arm around my shoulder comfortingly - or I suppose it’s meant to be comforting but I didn’t particularly find it so. “You’ll do good, everyone’s chill here. Except the boss but you get used to her. You can relax, Zari.” As much as the man’s enthusiasm and touchiness shocked me, I was glad to have someone show me where to go instead of wandering around the floors aimlessly.

In a corridor full of doors Trey picks the right one, opening it for me. Inside we find a team of 10 people or so sitting around a table, their discussion immediately coming to a halt when we step in, all eyes turning to me. I feel unease settle over me, but instead of panic I inhale and exhale. I knew I could do this, this was the only plan I had. I had never not had a plan B, a plan C before. This had to be it.

“You must be Izara,” a gravelling voice says as a red haired woman, likely in her 50s, stands up. She’s dressed much more corporate, a fitted blazer and a pencil skirt accentuating her curves. I immediately notice her brows, thin and sharp, appearing almost angry. I didn’t have to be told who this was, Trey’s description had been colourful enough for me to know she was my boss.

“Yes, well I go by Zari actually, if you don’t mind,” I say in a friendly tone, walking over in my black stilettos to shake her hand.

“You kids and your nicknames, oh well. Zari’s fine, but don’t complain if I forget,” she sighs, clearly already bothered. “I’m Linda Halford, the managing media director for the Dallas Wings. We spoke on the phone.”

Her eyes are blue and piercing, but there’s something about her straight forwardness that feels intriguing in contrast to the excessive friendliness of everyone else I’d met so far. Hell, even the cab driver tried to strike up a conversation after my flight. I wasn’t sure if I liked Linda or feared her - perhaps a bit of both.

“It’s nice to meet you in person,” I smile, sitting myself down on the chair Linda pulls out for me right next to her. All eyes were on me of course, the new girl. I just had to get through the first week and I’d be old news. Good old boring Izara. Just get through the week.

“I hope your travels went well,” Linda says distractedly, scrolling through a document on her laptop. As I open my mouth to answer, she keeps talking.

“Now, there are many big changes this year, and our media team has been… not up to par so to speak,” she glances up at Trey, and a couple of girls sitting next to him who I suppose I would be working with as well.

“Thanks to Bueckers, we’re about to have a lot more eyes on us. So I hired Izara-” Zari. Just call me Zari. I bite the inside of my cheek not to correct her, she didn’t seem like the type of woman you correct. “and she’s gonna help us. She’s here to innovate, to come up with ideas to boost online exposure and to boost clicks. We need to get active on Tiktok, and whatever the kids use. I need daily content. No more editing videos for weeks before posting them on Youtube, Trey.”

“My bad,” Trey says, making everyone chuckle, his eyes sparkling when they land on me.

Linda looks at him disapprovingly before continuing.

“We are sitting on a goldmine now guys. Paige Bueckers has over 2 million followers on Instagram. She is incredibly marketable, how do we use her best?” Linda asks, everyone going silent immediately, looking around, waiting for someone to bite. Fine, I will.

Clearing my throat I begin. “Well, I think it’s important that while we do use her to get clicks, we don’t make the Wings the “Paige Bueckers team” and repeat the same mistakes I personally think Indiana Fever did with CC,” My voice is steady, sure, even though deep inside I’m not quite certain about what I’m saying. I pause, composing myself - if there was one thing I was good at it was selling things with confidence. Even when I wasn’t.

“I think we use her for clicks, make loads of content with her but use that content to uplift other players and the whole team. Not just Bueckers, not just Arike, but everyone.”

Linda nods. “Yes, Izara. How do we do that?” Zari. Just say Zari.

I shrug. “A lot of Paige’s fans are young, I’m not sure if some of them even watch the sport at all. So we try to get them intrigued. Not posting purely basketball content, but including some fan service should help with that, incentivise the young girls to get involved with the sport. There needs to be a balance.”

To my shock, when I raise my eyes from the table, Linda is smiling. It’s not the warmest smile, but one nevertheless.

“And this is why we had to hire someone all the way from England, because you guys couldn’t figure this out in this hellhole,” Linda scolds my colleagues. The praise feels good, but I really didn’t want to come off as a show off or soon my only friend in all of Dallas, Texas would be Linda Halford.

“Good job Zari, welcome to the team,” the redhead says firmly before returning to her notes. “Okay tomorrow we are all having a little Dallas Wings get together. The coaches, players, everyone so be prepared to go out after work.”

As I write this down in my calendar I’m interrupted by Linda again. “Izara.”

“Yes?” I ask.

“By the end of tomorrow I’m expecting you to be friendly with Bueckers. You’re gonna be working together a lot, I need you on her good side.”

“Thank God!” I groan to myself, kicking off my black stilettos the second I step into my new home. The league had provided me with an apartment until the end of the season. It was modern, nice, sleek but so incredibly impersonal it pained me. It didn’t feel like me at all, the blank white walls, the dull grey furniture. It wasn’t home.

I crash into the couch face first, mixture of jet lag and stress of the first day on the job taking over. Not only was I the new girl, but I was also the English girl. All day I’d been asked if we really eat beans on toast, and if I’d ever seen the Queen - mind you she passed in 2022.

With too much left to do, I only let myself rest for a few minutes before getting up reluctantly, tiptoeing to my bedroom to start undressing. Throwing on a matching set of knitted cream coloured sweater and pants, I let my hair down, finally feeling comfortable.

Suddenly I hear a loud crash from the hallway, followed by even louder giggles and muffled yelps echoing around the building. Too curious about my neighbours, I step into my slippers and carefully open the door to see what’s going on.

“Bro, it’s not that heavy,” an accented voice groans probably a floor below me. Heavy steps on the stairs are closing in. Two people, I think.

“Lou, you’re kidding right?” Another girl complains, her voice bright.

“You’re too weak, just give it to me,” the other person argues, steps approaching me.

“Ha, no way, you’re just gon’ break my new plates. Ion trust you.”

“Next time you’re getting an at-home deliver- oh hey!”

A brunette girl with her hair down, only in basketball shorts and a sports bra sees me as she turns the corner, meeting my gaze as I peek through my door. She’s holding a cardboard box, full of pans and pots, hair sticking to her forehead from the humidity.

Suddenly the other girl appears, blonde, hair in a bun but other than that pretty much wearing the exact same thing.

“Who you talkin to- oh,” the blonde notices me, her blue eyes so intense my knees nearly buckle.

“Sorry, we’re being really loud, we’re gonna try and keep quiet,” the brunette apologises. The blonde is still watching me, never breaking eye-contact. Feeling uneasy, my eyes flicker to the brunette and I smile politely.

“That’s fine, I was just checking if you were okay?” I ask. The blonde walks past my door, my eyes lingering for a millisecond on the way her biceps flex as she carries a large and apparently heavy box of plates towards the next flight of the stairs.

“We’re good, sorry ‘bout that,” the blonde answers, her voice now much quieter, less lively than before when it echoes around the halls.

“Okay well, maybe next time you should get at-home-delivery?” I suggest, watching as the girls struggle slowly up the stairs before retreating back into my apartment.

“That’s what I SAID!” The brunette complains loudly. I can still hear them bickering when I close the door, a smile spreading to my face. The first time I’ve genuinely laughed since I landed.

It’s as if I knew those girls from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place it. Something about them was so familiar. It’s not till I hear them jogging back down for the next batch of boxes to carry upstairs, their voices loud enough to echo into my apartment, when I realise.

“Paige I’m about to call Bob Bueckers to come help us soon, I’m dead serious.”

“You don’t got my dad’s number.”

“Pretty sure I do!”

Oh. Peeking out through the peephole my suspicions are confirmed. Walking past my door it indeed is Paige and Lou, bringing more kitchenware upstairs. And I didn’t even recognise them. I look down at my knitted set with a deep sigh. So much about being professional huh? I better make a good impression tomorrow.

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @bueckersfive @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch

#paige bueckers #lilas writing #so it goes #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x female oc #wnba x oc

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ifishouldvanish · 2 months ago

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I saw that split moment before the fame's engulfed Olrox. There was a look of fear in his face before he was burned by her fire. It give some insight of how he probably remembering his life before being a vampire?

Point is, he doesn't look happy or ready.

See like, I actually don't read the look on his face as fear.

This to me is like, grit. Anger. Determination.

The clenched teeth, the intensity in the eyes. This looks very much like the face of a person who is bracing themselves for something they know they're not going to enjoy, but not something they fear.

Without getting too into headcanon territory, there's some cool details though I wanna highlight re: the mythological symbolism:

Just before Julia blasts him with fire, we get this shot of his blood dribbling onto the ground. We know that in the 'Aztec' religion, offerings of blood were common, that blood was the ultimate offering one could make to the gods. There's specifically this notion that one's blood gets returned to the earth upon death, thus fueling the cycle of life and death and rebirth.

That Olrox's transformation happens on what I'll call "hallowed ground" by virtue of his blood having been spilled on it, is very interesting to me and feels significant.

Then we get this sequence of flickering frames as he gets roasted. So to me, as I mentioned in my earlier post, this is a clear nod to being burned alive in the sacrificial flame. The Five Suns myth tells us how a few deities have taken turns sacrificing themselves to become the Sun by throwing themselves into the old god Huehueteotl's fire.

I bring up the sun stuff specifically because these frames... They don't look like ordinary fire to me. They look like full blown solar flares.

(Edit: the face in this first shot doesn't quite look like Olrox; could it be Huehueteotl himself, who is often depicted as an old man—much like we've seen Papa Legba appear when Annette is tapping into her power??)

And as Olrox seems to recover from the agonizing pain, his crouched, bowled over posture becomes this like, revitalized thing like he's the damned little mermaid. And the chaotic solar flares become this much clearer, dare I say... rising Sun?

Idk where exactly I'm going with this but there are just so many details about this scene that I love.

So... depending on the specific ritual/deity being honored, sacrifices would have their heart cut out. So there's this wonderful poetic beauty to Julia being left with this single, clean wound right in her chest, and that we get this gorgeous shot of her laid out like this. You know, like a sacrifice.

But what also feels SUPER significant is that like... this scene is our INTRODUCTION to Olrox. A big, bad vampire. And yet when he kills Julia Belmont, he doesn't take a single sip of her blood, despite having this giant puddle of it.

It's almost like... It's almost like??? He's leaving it there on purpose. Like an offering.

Again i don't wanna speculate too much here, but... Maybe it's meant to repay the god-like entity whose power he just tapped into to defeat her. Or maybe, it's a gesture of respect—an indication that he saw Julia as a worthy opponent who is thus a worthy offering to the gods. Or like, both.

Idk man, but I LOVE everything about this scene and the animation team deserves all of the kudos on earth for putting this together it's a masterpiece 🙏

#sorry not sorry this turned into a mini essay but I'm just so passionate about Mr Olrox Castlevania Nocturne #🥹🥹🥹#Olrox #castlevania #castlevania nocturne

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sakiofwaterdeep · 3 months ago

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Heyy! (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

I just read your Astarion fic and it's great! It's only one, though.. and I'm hungry for more.. MORE, I SAY! MORE! ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

Can you do Astarion with a soft and gentle fem/gn Tav please? •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀ Like, imagine having a soft and gentle Tav and because of this, Astarion can be a teeny bit sass and mean to her.. IT'S JUST LIKE YOUR FIRST ASTARION FIC! I'M KINDA IN LOVE WITH IT ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ ⁠ᴥ⁠•̥⁠`⁠ʔ.. but what if the tadpole gave him insight of Tav's life.. and he be like, "oh dang.." ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ

SORRY, IF IT'S KINDA REDUNDANT! IT COULD BE JUST A PART 2 OF YOUR FIRST ASTARION FIC ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

ur wish is my command <3

(tw - hints to sad backstory )

the campfire crackles and pops, lighting up the camp as everyone sits by themselves, doing their own things. well, apart from astarion - he's completely putting all his focus into looking at you.

currently you're sat with scratch, laughing as the dog playfights with you. astarions eyes are staring into you, he's trying to figure you out. he's trying to figure out how no matter what you are always kind to others, to random strangers and most of all to him - even after the things he's told you that he has done.

earlier that day you had a complete injured stranger you had found by a tree. fixed him up as best as you could, and took him back to his home. of course, astarion had rolled his eyes and asked "why you are wasting time when we could be on the way to baldurs gate right now?" but you ignored his sass and helped this stranger.

scratch lifts his head from your touch and looks up at astarion who's still staring at you, to which you follow scratch's gaze. astarion is quick and swift, quickly looking down at his book before you had met his gaze but you already know.

"go on boy" you say, throwing his ball to shadowheart, "go get"

scratch runs off with a happy bark as you stand up form your kneeling position, striding over to astarion with a small smirk on your lips, "you were staring"

"i was not staring darling, dont flatter yourself" he lies through his teeth, pretending to read his book, turning the page. you notice he looks - annoyed? at you?

putting your hand on his book, you close it shut and gently take it from him, to which he feigns a exasperated sigh and looks up at you, "yes, my dear?" his 'my, dear' sounding sarcastic but his sarcasm doesn't bother you.

"whats bothering you as something clearly is, and i think that something is me, so speak, please" you say gently - gently. you're always gentle, and why? for what?

"its just-" astarion pauses, letting another sigh, "you're always too nice, too sweet, i dont understand, what for?"

you pause for a moment, biting your lip before looking back into astarions eyes. using the tadpole, opening a way for astarion to look into your mind you speak, "...connect to mind"

and astarion hesitates for a moment, but the look you're giving him lets him know its alright. he connects with your tadpole and slowly the reason upon your politeness and kindness towards anybody reveals itself to him. horrible things happened to you, on parr with his history of cazador.

severing the connection, astarion shakes his head lightly to get back in the moment. his face has fallen into a sadder expression yet his eyes softer looking at you. "i-.." for once, he has no words.

yet there you after, even after revealing the true horrors of your past, your face is kind and your eyes are gentle, "its alright" your voice soft.

"i...had no idea" astarion says, his voice low, he's reflecting on his actions, you can tell "thank you. thank you for showing me"

"yeah, its alright. i just, dont want to treat people the way i was treated" your voice is soft, and quiet but it's evident you're a bit upset, astarion is quick to catch onto that.

and it's not like you and astarion haven't hugged once or twice before, infact the two of you had done heavier stuff than that not long ago, but feeling his arms wrap around your waist before you have any chance to say or move is surprising, but nonetheless, welcoming.

a smile graces your lips, your body flushes with a warm happiness, arms quick to wrap around his neck holding him in return.

"but, seriously darling, we do not need to stop for every person you see on the side of the road" he quips, his usual sassiness coming back to which you chuckle in response.

"no" astarion can't fight the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

#astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 imagine #bg3 x reader #bg3

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wokeupinmars · 5 months ago

Text

“I'll go wherever you go”

Pairing: Sierra Six / Court Gentry x Reader

Summary: Tender truths come to light when noisy neighbors cause Six and Claire to seek refuge at your place.

Warning: None. This part contains crumbs of Six and Reader's previous relationship and insight into the domestic life they're beginning to lead with Claire.

Word Count: 3K

Author’s Note: This is the second part of the Playing House series.

Part One: The Pretty Nurse Who Lives Down the Hall

Part Three: The End of Beginning

Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this!!

RG Masterlist

Your body moved on autopilot, working four twelve-hour shifts this week had drained you completely. All you wanted was a nice hot shower, followed by eating whatever leftovers were in the fridge and then hitting the sack.

The last thing you were expecting the night to bring was company but when you spot Six and Claire at your door, you knew a wrench would be thrown in your plans. You remove your headphones, “Everything alright?” you ask, once you get close enough to see the dark circles under both of their eyes.

“Oh thank god,” Claire breathes out, leaning into you immediately. You instinctively wrap your arm around her and look at Six, your eyes filled with concern, “What’s wrong?”

Whatever it was you knew it couldn’t be good. A few months had passed since they had moved in and while the three of you had fallen into some sort of routine, you knew Six was still reluctant to lean on you. Weekly dinners, movie nights, running any and all errands together, as well as spending the majority of your free time with them did little to chip away at his self-reliant nature. It wasn’t something you held against him, you knew him well enough to know that it would take some time for him to adjust to having someone willing to help him carry the weight of the world.

So for him to show up at your door like this, it must have been serious. He lets out an exasperated sigh and nods his head towards the door, “Can we sleep here tonight?”

“Of course,” you reply, stepping away from Claire to fish through your bag for your key and open the door. Claire walks through the door first, b-lining for your couch, you stand aside and wait for Six to enter but he motions for you to go in first, “Can you please clue me in on what’s going on? You both look like you could collapse on the spot.”

Six locks the door and glances back at you, “You know those two guys that live next door to us?”

“The college students?” you ask.

He nods, “Well one of them went away for the weekend, and the other has had his girlfriend over the entire time. They’re either arguing or having loud makeup sex.”

You grimace at that. “It’s so much worse than that,” Claire grumbles out, “The people that live above us decided that 2 a.m. is the ideal time to rearrange furniture.” You give them both a sympathetic look and gesture for Six to sit in the armchair. He leans his head back, allowing himself to sink into the chair.

“You should’ve texted me. You guys could’ve crashed here since I’ve been working the night shift,” you tell him as you set your bag down.

He knew you had been working the night shift for the past four days, your work schedule was something you always kept him updated on. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he murmurs, “his roommate was supposed to come back, I thought it would be over…nothing could have prepared to hear a three-way.”

Your eyes widen at that, “Good god.”

Claire begins to lull away, you crouch down to face level and rub her back gently, “Can you stand up for me, Sweetheart?” She nods her head and sits up, pausing for a moment, and then pushes herself up onto her feet. You guide her down the hall towards your room, letting her crash there. She looks up at you, her eyes barely open as you lay her down on your bed, “Thank you,” she whispers, as you unfold and drape one of your blankets over her.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

—

“She okay?” his voice was gravelly as he spoke.

“Out like a light,” you assure him. You set down extra pillows and blankets on the coffee table and start taking the cushions off the couch, “You okay with sharing the pull-out with me?”

He helps you pull the metal handle and unfold the bed, which makes a creaking noise that pierces the room, “And you’ll behave?”

“Haven’t I always been a good girl for you?” you tease, prompting Six to give you a look that you can only interpret as his sleepy attempt at a glare.

You leave him in the living room, heading to the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. The hot water beats against your skin, the exhaustion you had been feeling for the past few days seeping into your bones. You try to let your muscles relax and relieve all the tension stored in your body but you’re still a bundle of nerves.

Six was still awake when you got out of the shower, “Strawberries,” he murmurs.

“What?” you question, walking into the kitchen, opening the fridge, and scanning the shelves for something to eat. Six trails in behind you, “Strawberries,” he repeats, “You have strawberries on your shorts.”

Your lips form an ‘o’ as you put what remains of the pasta you made a few days ago to heat. The dish was steaming when you took it out of the microwave and set it on the table. You didn’t think Six would sit at the table with you but much to your surprise, he does. You press play on your answering machine and listen your voicemails instead of waiting idly, for the food to cool. Most of them were unknown numbers, your typical scam calls, the one that did catch your attention was from your former real estate agent. The message itself began playing halfway through, it was clear she hadn’t waited for the beep to start talking, “...I know you wanted to stop looking but the asking price for the house on 73rd you liked dropped by a lot…” her voice starts to break up and the voicemail stops.

Six raises his eyebrows at you, “I didn’t know you were looking at houses.” The confusion of his voice made it seem like more of a question than a statement.

You shrug it off, “That was before.” You feel the side of the container with the back of your hand to determine if it has cooled down enough to finally eat and sink your fork into the pasta, “You know you can go to sleep right?”

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest, “I know…why’d you stop looking at houses?”

You were blowing on the forkful of pasta before bringing it up to your mouth, you held up a finger, telling him to give you a second as you ate. “Why do you think?” you answer.

A quiet hum leaves his lips, “Left the job after they hired you to take me out and now this…I’m starting to think you’ve got a soft spot for me.” You scoff at that and point your fork at him, “In your dreams.”

“If only you knew.”

You recognize quickly that he’s probably far too tired to realize the shift in his demeanor. This felt like old times, back when the two of you would shack up in between jobs, it was nice and you wanted to revel in it but just like then, you knew it was only temporary, that you would have to let go even if you didn’t want to.

It wasn't until he started speaking again that you realized you had gone quiet, “Are Claire and I actually the reason you stopped looking at houses?”

“Yeah,” you don’t even bother denying it, “I kept telling myself it was just until you guys settled in. We’ve walked away from each other so many times before, I figured it would be no different this time around. I guess I didn’t think I would get attached…but now…I make sure I never have a night shift on Fridays so I don’t miss a game night, keep three different kinds of hot sauce in my pantry, and have essentially half of Claire’s things scattered around the apartment.”

He goes quiet and you’re almost certain you had gotten a little too touchy-feely for his liking, but then he starts to talk, “No one else uses the mug you always use when you come over. It's just yours...and Claire doesn’t actually like tea, we only buy it ‘cause we know it’s your favorite.”

You smile softly at that, your heart warms at the small gesture, “You do?”

“We do,” he confirms.

—

You finished eating and opted to leave the dish to soak, telling yourself it was a problem to be dealt with in the morning. You head back into the bathroom to brush your teeth and complete your skincare routine.

You watch in the mirror as he appears in the doorway a few minutes later, watching as you complete the steps of your skincare routine, “You know I’ve already got a shadow right?”

Six sighs heavily, stepping into the bathroom, and leans against the counter, just observing you, “What is that?”

“Moisturizer,” you answer, working the product into your skin. “Want some?”

He didn’t have a chance to reply when you pumped some of the cream onto your fingers and started applying it to his face, “Is it supposed to be cold?” his hand rested on your waist. You shush him and rub the moisturizer into his skin.

He lets out a quiet “Thank you” and waits for you to leave the bathroom before following suit.

“You want me to build a pillow wall between us?” you tease as you lay down. You expect him to lay beside you but he just stands at the foot of the pull-out, you pat the spot beside you, “Why are you just standing there? Come to lay down.”

“Move over,” he instructs.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “Why? What’s wrong with that side?”

“Nothing,” he states. You’re about to press further to understand what the issue is but he answers your question before you even have the opportunity to ask it, “This side,” he motions to the side you were lying on, “Is closer to the door.”

You huff out a sigh and reluctantly roll over onto the other side. He was right, the side you laid on was closest to the door. You didn’t think it was that big of a deal but you knew better than to try and fight him on this one. He flicks off the lights and waits a few seconds to let both of your eyes adjust to the darkness. The springs creak under both of you as he gets in. Silence fills the room as the two of you lay beside each other. You turn on your side to face him, only to find he’s already looking at you. “I missed you, you know? Don’t think I’ve said that yet,” you say quietly.

Six doesn’t say anything at first instead he stretches his hand out and rests it on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. You could tell he was testing the waters, you weren’t expecting any other kind of acknowledgment beyond that but you were pleasantly surprised when he snaked his arm under you and pulled you to his chest by your waist, “Miss you too,” his words coming out in a low rumble.

You lift your head, “Yeah?” you ask, unable to suppress your grin.

His hand comes up and pushes your head back down to his chest, “Don’t let it get your head,” he mutters. You let out a breathy laugh and zeroed in on the loud thumps of his heartbeat under your ear.

You soak in the moment, you know that it isn’t going to last forever, but you allow yourself to indulge in the comfort that being held by him brings anyway.

According to the glowing numbers of your cable box, only ten minutes had passed. The tranquil silence that washes over the two of you combined with the feeling of his hand rubbing up and down your back soothes you, “Court?” You whisper.

He lets out a groan, letting you know he’s listening. You take a deep breath, “I know it's a bit outlandish but if I did move would you and Claire come with me?”

Your words hang in the air for a second, ‘Would you want us to?” You could hear his heartbeat pick up ever so slightly as he spoke.

“Yes,” you affirm, shifting and nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the faint scent of his body wash.

“I'll go wherever you go,” his voice hushed,“We can talk about it more in the morning with Claire, she’ll be ecstatic.” A content hum escapes your lips, it was the answer you wanted to hear. You inhale deeply and let your body completely relax against him on the exhale. You stop trying to fight off your drowsiness and let your heavy eyes close. There’s a delicate pressure against your forehead before you finally doze off. A kiss.

—

The repeated clicks of a camera are what woke you up. Your face was smushed against Six’s chest, and your eyes fluttered open and immediately squeezed shut when you were blinded by a flash. Claire’s giggle rings in your ears. You sit up and rub your eyes. You blink repeatedly before your vision becomes clear. Claire was standing on one of your dining chairs, her Polaroid camera in hand, “Good morning,” she chirped.

“Morning kiddo,” your voice was hoarse as you spoke. You stretch and let out a yawn. You turned to the side to look back at Six’s sleeping form and brushed a few strands of hair that fanned across his forehead.

“I’ve never seen him like this before…so at ease,” she whispers, stepping down from the chair. A soft smile appears on your face as you continue to look at him, “Probably been a while since he’s gotten the chance to sleep in,” you say, matching her volume.

Claire taps her chin with her pointer finger, “Sure…but don’t you think it might be for another reason?” You knew what she was getting at but you chose to dismiss it, “Nope, definitely the sleep.”

“And not who he’s sleeping with?” she questions, tilting her head. You avert your eyes away from Six and back to her, “How do you feel about pancakes for breakfast?” It was a terrible attempt at changing the topic but when her eyes lit up at the mention, you knew you were in the clear. “With chocolate chips?” You nod and instruct her to go brush her teeth, letting her know that there are extra toothbrushes in the cabinet under the sink.

You wait until you hear the door to the bathroom close before saying aloud, “I know you’re awake,” as you continue to play with his hair. He opened one eye, peeking up at you before rolling over onto his stomach, lazily draping his arm over your lap. If you had to guess it was likely that he’d been awake from the second Claire dragged the dining chair from the kitchen and into the living room.

With a soft pat, you lift his arm just enough for you to throw your legs over the side of the pullout and stand. “You want chocolate chips in your pancakes too?” He makes a noise which you take as a yes.

Claire was out of the bathroom and eager to help by the time you were adding the wet ingredients into the dry, she stood beside you as you focused on getting rid of any lumps, “Can I add the chocolate chips?”

You point to the bag, silently indicating it’s time. She sprinkles the chips into the bowl of batter, watching from over your shoulder as you fold them into the mixture. “So you’re off for the rest of the—” she starts only to cut herself off when Six enters the kitchen, “Nice of you to join us in the land of the living.”

“It’s too early to deal with you two,” he mumbles, clasping his fingers together and holding them over his head to stretch. His shirt rises and you’re able to catch a glimpse of his happy trail. He tries to reach his hand into the bag of chocolate chips Claire’s holding but she's quick to slap his hand away and hold them away from him and scolds him, “You haven’t even brushed your teeth!”

—

Claire knew something was up just from the way the two of you sat across. “You guys look like you’re about to tell me you sent the family dog to live on a farm upstate and that he’s in a better place now,” she jokes, uncapping the bottle of syrup and dousing the stack in them.

You and Six exchange glances before he clears his throat, “We do actually want to talk to you about something.” The firmness in his voice makes her wary, a worrisome expression spreads across her face, “Now I’m nervous.”

“How do you feel about moving again?” The question makes her slump into her seat, “Why? We’ve been doing so good here, I like it here.”

“You like her,” Six corrects. The corner of your mouth curves up when he says that, you knew Claire had grown attached to you but it felt good to hear. “And you don’t?” Claire counters, “I don’t understand, we both like it here…we have someone here, why would we leave?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “We should have practiced this….I’m moving and—”

The frown on her face deepens as she interrupts you, “You’re moving?”

“I am, but,” you emphasize the word, “Six and I talked about the possibility of you two moving with me. Same area, just out of these crummy apartments and into a house.” You watch as Claire perks up, “Move in with you? For real?”

Six nudges you with his elbow, his nonverbal way of saying “I told you so.” He nods his head in confirmation. Claire is beaming. “So you’re okay with the three of us living together?” you ask her.

She shakes her head ‘yes’ profusely, “This is great, we get to live with you, I got pancakes, and Buster’s well.” Six’s eyebrows crease and confusingly repeats the name. “The family dog? God, Six, you gotta keep up,” she retorts, cutting into the pancakes, a grin graces her face when takes a deep breath and sighs.

—

Part Three: The End of Beginning

#sierra six x reader #court gentry x reader #ryan gosling x reader #sierra six #sierra six x you #sierra six fic #court gentry imagine #court gentry x you #court gentry #the gray man fic #the gray man fanfiction #the gray man

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