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#really proud of the props on these pages
novae-comic · 1 year
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Vivi and Sesam talk about their powers~
(Click the link below to see dialogue~)
Novaecomic.com
It's the start of the month which means it's a great time to join our Patreon! If we reach our goal, we'll update 3 times a week!
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krashoutluv · 2 months
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Imagine Ak Jason that's been with his s/o for a long while and they're comfortable having sex and all and he makes them squirt. How's the man reacting? I gotta know!
I GOTCHU ANON I GOT YOUUUUUUUUUU🫡🫡
Ak!Jason Todd n’ Squirting ((NSFW, EXPLICIT/DETAILED))
reader has coochie but no gender terms used :p
unless doll is gendered to you
‘tis under the cut >:]
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TOTALLY AN EGO BOOSTER 4 HIM !!
He likes knowing he’s fucking you good and how good hes doing so🤤🤤
and he totally didn’t google “how to squirt” to get this to happen
IM LAUGHISNF SO HARD—
—LISTEN HE KNOWS THERES GOTTA BE SOME SCIENCE BEHIND IT.
he skimmed like the first page of articles (he read every fuckin link.) before clicking off bc he felt kinda cringe and acted like nothing happened
HE DEF GOT ALL THAT SHIT MEMORIZED THOUGH.
but he’s also smart enough to that majority of it is communication and it doesn’t mean hes doing bad if you cant squirt
but he really wanted to make you squirt. *picture cut to him grabbing his chest while curled up in a ball on the floor*
JASON’S body was pressed onto yours almost fully, grinding his dick into your pussy. The wet coarse noises of your twos hips pressing into each other, and the lewd noises leaving your mouth filled the room. One of his hands intertwined with your own, the other rubbing at your clit. He placed a pillow under your ass so he could push your cock at all the right places. His pelvis grinding into your pussy, dick angled at your g-spot cushioning out your steady moans. Jasons face was buried between your neck softly breathing as he used his whole body to rhythmically pace himself against you. Taking in all of you, your soft sticky skin pressed against his own, every inhale and exhale of your chest, the way your hips randomly bucked up as he pushed against you. Those moans. He closed his eyes, letting his body passionately feel you out, running orgasm after orgasm out of you. You’re breathing sharpened and you threw your head back. You start grinding your wet pussy into him, letting your other hand trail up to his hair softly kneading his black hair locs. He involuntarily let off a deep “mmh…” He sped up his movements, rutting his hips a bit faster then yours. Jason just barely pulled out and pushed in, his cock still at your g-spot before grinding back down on your wet cunt. Stuttering your breaths, you let out a soft”Fuck,,, fuck,,, fuck….” before being able to whine out how you wanted his hand, playing with your clit to move faster. He started rubbing fast circular motions across your cunt, obscene noises of your soaking cunt got louder. He started pumping his cock against your g-spot, letting go of your hand to prop your legs up for him before intertwining your fingers once more. He pulled his face from your neck to watch your cunt come undone, letting out heavy breaths along your chest. Your mind had started going foggy, only being able to feel his body against yours and the sticky sensation between your legs, you inhaled and before a sudden hit of tranquil hit your body. Exhaling, your hips relaxing as you felt the heat of a intense orgasm hit you. Jason watched as squirts of hot liquid sloppily bounced against his happy trail. He had no problem physically staying quiet but mentally he was holding on by a thread. Continuously fucking you through your pleasure, before slowing down and looking back up at your relaxed body.
“You got another one of those in you doll?” he said through hot breaths peering up at you with those big pretty blown out blue eyes.
oh yeah, that egos peaking tonight.
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This was fun writign hejshehhdhehee
COULDNT HELP MYSELF I KNOW HES GOOGLED IT BEFORE!! I KNOW ITTT!! *IM BEING DRAGGED OUT OF THE ROOM WHILE YELLING*
ILL DIE ON THIS HILL JASON WOULDNT BE DIRTY TALKER TILL LATER IN THE RELATIONSHIP!! (m gonna make a list of shit he’d say dw yall dw..)
he so proud of himself though
inbox is open if yall want more !!
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kaeyas-beloved · 11 months
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It’s The Way He… || #2
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Characters: Alhaitham, Cyno, Dainsleif, Heizou, Itto, Kaveh, Xiao, Wanderer
Summary: Just cute/heartwarming/breath-taking things he does <3
Genre: Fluff + Snippets
CWs: gn!reader (you/your), injuries (Cyno), petnames (my love; Kaveh),
a/n: did a pt. 2 because the last one got lots of love and I though they were really cute so I wanted to do some others <3
|| Pt. 1 ||
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Alhaitham
It’s the way Alhaitham props his chin on you - your head, shoulder, just whatever is easiest at that moment - as you read. His eyes, a beautiful mix of green and orange, will skim the page you're on. It's no quantum physics or retelling of historic events, but if you like it then he'll give it a chance. Just, don't be too upset when he asks you to read faster, he wants to know what happens next is all.
"Are you almost done? I've finished the page. What? What's that look for?"
Cyno
It’s the way Cyno is so serious as he dresses your wounds, a stark contrast to the genlteness of his touch. It doesn’t matter if it’s a paper cut, a rash, burn or a gash from battle, it’ll receive the same level of attention and care from the general. If he had it his way he’d get Tighnari to fix you right up, because at least Cyno knows you’re in good hands, but that can’t always happen, so he’s your next best. In a way that’s alright, at least this way he can personally see to it that you’re looked after.
“This will sting a little, sorry, but it has to be cleaned. I’ll try to lessen the pain as much as I can and finish quickly. If you’d like, I can tell you some jokes to take your mind off of it?”
Dainsleif
It’s the way Dainsleif never forgets the little details about yourself. You could mention it once and he’s already committed it to memory, he's committed you to his memory. For 500 years he's walked alone, maybe not always physically, but it still felt like there hasn't been anyone with him. You are the first connection he's had in so long, and even if he's doomed to live long past you, the image of everything that creates you, he’ll will himself to remember for as long as he can, because just the thought of you makes him feel like he's alive once more.
“You told me once that the stars brought you peace. I thought it’d be nice to look out at them tonight, for they too do the same for me. However, if I was to be truthful, you, without a shadow of a doubt, bring me the most peace.”
Heizou
It’s the way Heizou leaves a riddle on the kitchen counter for you every so often before he leaves for work or errands. There’ll be clues scattered around the house for you to find as well, each one becoming more cryptic than the last. Of course, he knows you well enough to not make them so tough you can’t figure it out. He wants you to receive your prize after all~
“Did you figure out today’s riddle?” … “Heh, that’s correct, I knew you’d get it! Now, come and claim your reward. I think you’ll really enjoy it this time~”
Itto
It’s the way Itto runs up to you the instant he sees you in the streets of Inazuma, arms ready to grab hold and lift you as high as he can or as high as you allow. He'll even do a little spin with you he's that happy to see you. It doesn't matter if you’re alone or with someone, he is a loud and proud oni who shows off the person that owns his heart!!
"There you are my partner-in-crime, my beetle battle buddy, my number one! Say, if you're not busy how about you tag along with me? I just found this awesome raman place that's pretty cool if I do say so myself. How about we check it out?"
Kaveh
It’s the way Kaveh readily helps you with your outfit and any bells and whistles that go with it. As a renowned architect there are times where he’s invited to formal events, and you are his first go to for a plus one. And where there’s formal events there’s formal attire, and the hassle of making sure everything is perfect. Be it a tie or some piece of jewelry, Kaveh and his keen eye for detail are there to help attain that perfection.
“Ah, here, let me help. Sometimes, it takes another pair of eyes to catch if something’s off. Of course, you look stunning regardless my love. There, shall we head off?”
Wanderer
It’s the way Wanderer stumbles to match your pace. For as long as he's lived he's moved at his own pace, never once slowing or playing catch-up for others. For you though, he'll stop to admire the things he's overlooked due to his immortality, he'll race to make sure you don't run too far from him that he can't raech you. No longer does he run away from those he loves, now he runs alongside them.
"What? You stopped for a flower? It's pretty? Please, I can think of many more things that are prettier than some flower, but I suppose we have some time. Who am I to stop you from doing what your little heart desires."
Xiao
It’s the way Xiao carries with him the little gifts you give. May it be a flower, a picture, a letter or another object of some kind, the yaksha will have it tucked into the safest pocket he has. To you it may have just been something you picked up or made while thinking of him, but for Xiao, it’s his good fortune charm. Something that has a tangible weight to it, his constant reminder that someone is waiting for him back home. However, he can never bring himself to tell you this, covering up the why he brings it everywhere with some barely strung together excuses or redirections.
“Of course I’d take it with me, why would I not? Huh? You think I’d have no real use for it? Tsk, you still don’t know the ways of the adepti, do you?”
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Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kaerui-kaisen // @ajaxstar // @genshin-impact-writings // @stage-lucida // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @xiaos-wife // @irethepotato
. . .
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cloudysleepingzone · 30 days
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Heya^^ could we possibly get some romantic hcs about dazai, atsushi, and possibly fyodor with a artist s/o, they sometimes doodle on unimportant papers when the meetings are way too boring for them , and sometimes when they have free time they draw their lover in their sketchbook, maybe a painting or two of their lover <3 anyways love your writing and don't forget to hydrate! Have a wonderful day or night!!
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BSD with an Artist S/O
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Decided to add Chuuya and Tecchou due to a very similar request!
Contents : Dazai, Atsushi, Fyodor, Chuuya and Tecchou x Reader (separate), gender neutral reader (they/them used), fluff, suggestive for Dazai's part and sorta Tecchuu? Not really. Pet Names.
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Dazai Osamu
Doesn't matter what your drawing, he's watching.
Can you blame him though? He just loves watching his lover just doing something they enjoy!
If you draw him he will start acting like a dramatic prince for a solid 10 minutes.
"(Name), draw me like one of your French girls~"
You sit quietly at your desk, the surface covered with your sketchbook and a handful of pencils and pens. "Belllaaa~!" Though your peace is interrupted by your loving boyfriend trying to get out of doing his job again. "What are you drawing beautiful?" He leans over you, his arms wrapping around you from behind as he props his chin on your shoulder. The sketchbook page had small doodles of the two of you, mostly just small cute doodles of holding hands, Dazai tilts his head slight to the side, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. "You know, if you need any ideas you could always draw us with less clothes~"
Atsushi Nakajima
Our sweet boy
He's so supportive of your work he loves seeing the look on your face when you make something your proud of
You draw him? Oh boy...he can't even form words
"You're getting even better sweetheart, you keep improving!"
Your a mess, your finger tips covered in different shades of blue and grey, just like the tip of your paintbrush. Atsushi was behind the canvas, laying comfortably on your shared bed with a soft smile on his lips. "Am I doing alright? I'm not moving too much?" He was doing an amazing job. A perfect job. "Your doing good sweetheart, I'm almost done". You've drawn him from memory plenty of times before, but it feels so much more romantic with him right in front of you. "You look really pretty when your focused..." He mumbles under his breath, even if your the one painting him, he's the one doing the most admiring <3
Fyodor Dostoevsky
To a non familiar eye he seems completely uninterested or even annoyed at your interests. But that's far from true
He adores your work though he sucks at showing it
Got a piece you're really proud of? Yep he's putting it in a fancy frame
You? Drawing him? Aren't you just a sweetheart...
It was already late at night, the curtains had been drawn and you were currently in the shower. Meanwhile your husband Fyodor was already dressed in something more comfortable and was waiting for his dear. Fyodors finger tips gently run over the cover of your current sketch book, which laid on top of a desk in your shared bedroom. He picks up the sketchbook, flipping through the pages slowly before a certain page catches his eye, a page seemingly dedicated to just him. His normally cold and hard gaze softens a bit at the sight, some being full line art and color and others being simple messy doodles. His admiring is interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. "Sweetheart what are you doing?". Your husband gently closes your sketchbook, setting it down onto the expensive hard work surface. "Just admiring your work my dear..."
Chuuya Nakahara
New art supplies? He's buying it. You want a new set of expensive as hell paint brushes? Pfft, pocket change.
If you even mention getting into a new form of art he's already handing you his credit card without another question.
"It looks pretty already doll, make sure to show me when it's done yea?"
Like Fyodor, he puts his favorite pieces in fancy frames <3
You walk into Chuuya's at home office, not bothering to knock (not like he minds) "Chuuya, I finished that painting you wanted to see!" He slowly turns his chair around, a small smirk on his face, completely ignoring his task of sorting through files for now. "Let me see it babe". You turn the canvas around, showing him your paintwork you've spent a few weeks on. He stand from his seat, walking up to you and placing a gloved hand on your cheek, planting a loving kiss on the other. "It looks beautiful sweetheart, just like you. I'll be hanging it up." Chuuya had already started a small selection of your art that was displayed in fancy gold and silver frames over a fireplace, in the style as if they were million dollar paintings. To him they may as well be, to him your art is priceless. Your priceless.
Tecchou Suehiro
You could make something weird and he'll like it
He will just silently watch you draw whatever, doesn't matter what.
"That looks good sweetheart"
Drawing him? God I don't know if his heart can take something so sweet!
Here you are, sitting on your boyfriend's back while he does sit ups. It was actually pretty normal at this point. The only sounds in the room was the huffs coming from Tecchuu throat and the sounds of pencil scratching against paper. "Hm...maybe I should draw you like this, it would be pretty good anatomy practice" you quickly sketch up some messy line art you can fix later, shifting slightly to show Tecchuu. "Huff Looks good" Despite the slight strain in his muscles he's able to respond pretty easily. I get up from your seat on his back, letting him get up with a groan before stretching his arms. Moving your pencil back to the paper, you continue to look from your boyfriend to the paper back and forth. "This is a bit better" you your sketch book around, it was just a simple sketch of his muscular figure but it was like fine art in his eyes. "You've been improving a lot haven't you?"
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bcyhoods · 2 months
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lovefool — “you’re welcome to stay, if you want” w eddie!!
librarian!reader is always calling my name so i needed to do something before i combusted | 1.1k fem!reader
Eddie’s got his feet propped up on the study table and his chair teetering on its hind legs. The dull sound of his rings tapping the hardcover in his hands fills the immediate space. Despite the fact that he’s actually read this particular horror novel at least thrice before, today it only serves as bookworm-ish guise.
The boy aimlessly flicks through the pages, eyes reflexively leaping over entire paragraphs to peak over at the reception desk. With each glance, he feels his heart start racing, his stomach starts flipping. And it has nothing to do with Stephen King, everything to do with you.
You’re sitting behind the polished wood with a pair of deep auburn-colored reading glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. Every so often, they slide down and prompt you to scrunch the muscles in your face and wiggle them back up. Whenever you ultimately give up and push them back into place with your finger, Eddie smiles to himself.
The pair of you have spoken quite a handful of times, but it only took Eddie seconds within that first interaction to be smitten. You’d worn a pretty color on your lips, an even prettier smile behind it. Your eyes lit up upon seeing the tower of Tolkien novels he’d placed in front of you to check out, then you’d complimented his taste, then his hair. Then as if to seal the deal, you reached underneath the desk to retrieve a flimsy bookmark with a map of Middle Earth and placed it on top of the stack.
Now, he’s proud to be a frequent library-goer. Admittedly he feels a little silly about it, at first. But the flash of recognition that crosses your face before you wave at him makes him forget.
You float through the building, burning hot under his watchful eye, shutting off yellow desk lamps and bidding farewell to patrons with a sweet smile. The closer you get to him, the more the familiar aroma of cigarettes and his cologne seem to engulf you. It’s your turn now to have your heart beat erratically in your chest.
“Hi, Eddie.” Your saccharine voice cuts through the silence and has him immediately closing his book. He gazes up at you, big brown eyes boring right into yours. Like he knows you’re about to swat his feet, he grins and kicks his legs down onto the floor.
“Hey,” he sighs out.
“Carrie’s that good, huh? ”
Eddie’s head twists in confusion. It’s like your presence sent him face first into a stupor, and now he’s racking his brain trying to figure out what you were asking. Only when you smirk and point at him does he realize you’re talking about the book. The book that’s in his hand, that he was meant to be reading this whole time.
“Oh! Yeah, Carrie,” he confirms with a gummy smile as he waves the novel up, “What can I say? The lady calls to me. You finished it yet?”
You wince at the question. A few weeks ago you’d each recommended each other a book, per Eddie’s suggestion. He’d read your recommendation within the week, returning it with a broad smile that made you feel giddy. It’s taken you a little longer. He sees it all over your face and gasps.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t read it, yet? You’re really hurting my feelings here, sweetheart.”
The nickname makes your heart catch in your throat and stumble on your words for a second. “It’s—I just…I started it! I promise. I just haven’t had time to read the whole thing,” you explain through a shy smile.
Eddie chuckles at your suddenly bashful demeanor before an idea pops into his mind. Even thinking about it makes him blush. He doesn’t give himself much time to dwell on the idea of your rejection before he’s blurting it out.
“I can read it to you.”
You watch him, surveying his expression to find any hint that he’s joking. But he’s got a doe-eyed look on his face. He’s dragging one of his rings across the curve of his lips with uncertainty.
“You’d…? You’re kidding,” you decide matter-of-factly.
He vigorously shakes his head, hair flying in every direction as he throws his hand over his chest. A bright smile shines across his face. “Cross my heart. I’ve been told I got a shot in the audiobook industry. Might even hear me on one of those little cassettes in the future.”
The boy is lying through his teeth. It’s rare that someone indulged in a positive conversation with him, let alone complimented his voice. Though, it makes you huff out a laugh, maybe a little too loud for a library setting and he swears his heart is about to break out of his rib cage.
You nod at him rather emphatically and agree, “Must be your charisma.” Your hand drops to pick at the chipped wood of the table and your gaze drops with it to hide from him.
“Hey, your words.” He tosses his hands up in the air, smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. He clears his throat before asking, “What do you say? Think it’d be good practice for me to have a live audience.”
He looks so genuine, a soft expression taking over rough features. His leg bounces under the table with anticipation. His fingers move to where yours are, and he hesitantly reaches his pinky to your own. It’s just a tap, but it sends a tingle up your entire arm and has you reciprocating the touch.
He’s making it so hard for you to say no. You glance up at the clock on the nearby wall and frown. “Well, right now I’m kinda supposed to tell you that the library closes in a few minutes.”
Eddie spares a glance behind you and realizes that he’s the last person on this floor, maybe the entire building.
“Oh. Yeah, well…some other time.” His shoulders sink just slightly before he’s standing upright and smiling at you. “I’ll get out of your hair, m’lady.” He bends at the waist to bow at you, waving his arms theatrically.
You’re smiling at him again, something warm and entirely too sweet. As he turns to the exit, you feel something tug at your chest. Like he’s taking a piece of you with him. It has you calling out before you’re able to stop yourself.
“Eddie?”
He twists back and hums.
“You’re welcome to stay, if you want. I mean I’d love to take you up on the offer, if you don’t mind following me around while I reshelve some returns?” A nervous laugh falls from your mouth as you hitch your thumb towards the non-fiction shelves. Eddie spots your other hand still picking at the chipped wood.
He beams at you with flushed cheeks and a puffed chest.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
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firefirefruit · 3 months
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Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twelve
Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter
Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro
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Chapter Twelve: Read Me, But Don't Weep
“Raya? Are you there?”
The clock ticks in the empty studio, wooden floors untouched by the sound of footsteps for days.
“We’re really worried, Raya. Please let me see you.”
Gramps used to be walking around the studio at this time of day. He’d have a steaming cup in hand as he’d trail past your empty workbench, a proud smile curling on his lips. He’d pick your blades up when he thought you weren’t watching and run his finger on their sharp edges.
“Sanji’s here with a meal for you.”
If his finger bled, he’d smile to himself with an approving sip of tea. If it didn’t, he would’ve peeled a post it note from the large stack you’d keep on your table.
“She still isn’t responding. I…I don’t know what to do…”
“Give her time, Nami-san. Look there.” A clinking of plates. The faint silhouette of a cigarette in hand. “She’s finished another bowl. That’s progress.”
He’d draw an arrow across the note using his non-dominant hand, balancing the cup in his other. He’d tack it on the metal, recap the pen, and sit outside with his journal.
The shadow of a small figure props up on his shoulder. “But her wounds, Sanji. If they don’t get tended to, I won’t sleep at night…”
An inhale of smoke. “I have an idea.”
“Look at me!” it would say. Very vague, very non-descriptive. But you’d instantly know what you needed to refine.
When he’d go to sleep, you’d snag the same scrawled-on note from your workspace, scrawl a goofy animal bowing, saying, ‘thank you, old man!’ underneath his text, and quickly slip it into his logbook.
You haven’t slept for days. It’s the anxiety - the sudden twang of loneliness that pulls in your chest when you’re in your bed; the light flickers, your eyes search for the time, and suddenly it hits you that Suki isn’t going to come into your room to wish you goodnight anymore.
The clock's unforgiving chime echoes at five in the morning. Your workshop, usually a sanctuary, feels stifling as you pace anxiously. A tumult of possibilities, questions, and thoughts overwhelms you, each one intensifying the tight knot in your chest, and frankly...
Well, frankly, when you close your eyes, you’re haunted by the image of those eyeballs.
One purple, one grey. One purple, one grey. One that makes you scream, the other that makes you cry.
Today’s the day you finally decide to go through his journal. Always meticulously placed on his favourite stool, its edges torn, and pages thickly bound with a multitude of Gramps-esque thoughts, it lays there from a distance as a heavy reminder of him.
When you open its contents, your fingers tracing through each page, a flurry of multicoloured papers roll out like a snowstorm, covering the floor with hundreds of small post-it notes.
“FLATTEN ME HERE >” one note says.
Below his instruction is your response, a drawing depicting a bear clasping its hands together, saying,
“Thanks, Gramps!”
A blue post-it note, this time:
“Good job. Very sharp.” Smudged traces of blood adorn the top of its corner.
“Need a plaster?” you respond, presenting a very detailed drawing of a smug human smile slapped on a cat’s face.
And you can’t help it. Tears seem to be pooling up in your eyes as you crouch to the floor, fingers gently going through each note in silence. You miss him. You feel out of control. You’re just…lost.
Gently, a soft rapping interrupts the stillness at the front door. Your attention sharply redirects to the source, and with a swift, almost instinctive motion, you vigorously swipe your face with the rough fabric of your sleeve as if trying to erase all emotion on your face.
“Good morning, Raya-san. I’ve put your breakfast outside the door…”
His figure lingers in the crook of the opaque door. He pulls a cigarette to his mouth, a hand tucked into his pockets, and he waits. Only for a second. Waiting to see if maybe this time, you’ll open the door.
True to expectations, there's no response from you. You're crouched on the floor, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of notes, observing his figure as it remains a mere blur. He exists as an elusive presence, unable to connect with you on any level beyond the provision of sustenance.
He fidgets slightly, pressing his legs away from the door.
“…Hey, just…please don’t forget to hydrate.”
As the echoes of his departing footsteps fade, you gradually unfurl from your crouched position. Moving with deliberate quietness, you approach the door, fingertips grazing its surface before grasping the knob. With a gentle turn, you lean in to peer through the peephole, confirming the emptiness beyond.
He's gone.
A sigh of relief escapes you as the door swings open. Your gaze drifts downward, and an overwhelming tide of gratitude and warmth floods your being. The remnants of his kindness linger in the air, a subtle yet tangible embrace. He tends to you, a guardian of care, even in the silence you offer, even when your words remain unspoken.
It’s the usual loving, simple breakfast that graces the front of your door.
Hot tea, no milk or sugar. Sliced apples and oranges adorn the plate like a bunch of blooming flowers - ripe to eat and fragrant to the nose - with a bowl of hand-made yoghurt resting by its side. Surprised, you cock your head at the meal - it's just the way you like it. You suppose that after a few days of testing out different meals with you, Sanji’s been closely observing what you have and haven’t been touching on your plate.
This time, however. you notice that there’s something obscure being propped in the corner of your eye; right next to the plate, there’s a big red box with a medic sign neatly painted across its lid.
“Chopper..." you mutter to yourself, running your fingers over the white medical bandages from within the box.
You feel so guilty – for all of it. You don’t deserve this level of kindness, this thoughtfulness that these members are showering you with. How ungrateful you are to not even open the door to thank them, to show them your face, to offer a smile and let them know that you’re going to be okay.
And still, without expecting anything in return, they still tend to you; Sanji feeds you, Nami sits in front of your door every day and obnoxiously talks to herself out loud, Chopper constantly worries for your physical health… All the while, you haven’t offered a reassuring word through the gap of your door.
Besides receiving it from Gramps, you haven’t experienced much unconditional love in your life - and that scares you. All of this scares you. Their love. It just...feels weird.
You find yourself perched on the floor, grappling with the swirling thoughts in your mind.
“What would you do if you were in my place?” Leaning in, you whisper to Suki's journal, your eyes carrying a silent plea for guidance. You feel the journal's roughened leather cover beneath your palm, your fingertips explore the edges of papers slightly unhinged from its binding.
Then, mid-bite, you pause. Your attention shifts as your fingers discover a loose piece of paper. It's strategically placed, almost as if meant for your eyes alone. Reading the words scrawled across its outer corner, you momentarily forget the apple in your hand, drawn into the unseen musings between the pages.
Raya. Read me.
Your heart pounds in your throat, immediately pulling the sheet out from its bound home.
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Raya,
In the best-case scenario, I naturally left you as I gave you my parting words.
In the worst, I probably pretended not to know you.
All in all, I hope that as you read this, you start snapping the way you always do whenever I’m trying to get a rise out of you…
Raya, if I have passed, please let my body rest in Wano. After that, I want you to immediately get the hell out of that place and start living your life.
If I am alive - and this is incredibly imperative - do not look for me. I want you to imagine me as having passed, to immediately get the hell out of my workshop, and to start living your life.
There’s much I haven’t told you. Some say I’m better at writing words than speaking them, and I must wholeheartedly agree; I suppose that’s why I began writing in the first place. You still have a part of me within these entries. Words never die, but the memories of them do.
I’m very much aware that I hadn’t said this enough to you – perhaps out of my ‘Wano-esque’ pride, as you call it – but I am incredibly proud of you.
I’m glad that my granddaughter was the catalyst for kicking me out of my home country - because if it had never happened, I would have been a thankless old man, doing thankless things in the comfort of my own home. And that’s why…
I decided to join the Straw Hats behind your back.
I know you’re probably incredibly furious with me right now. But please hear me out before you do anything.
I’m sorry for doing this without you knowing, but I‘d somehow known that I wouldn’t have enough time to kick your ass out of my workshop before I’d be gone.
Raya, even if I’m too old for adventure, I want my spirit to watch over and follow yours. I joined so that you would simply have no other choice but to follow me.
Become the greatest blacksmith of your generation. Hell, become a pirate. Join me on the Sunny.
Kozuki Sukiyaki
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The paper in your hand aggressively shudders, your gaze drifting to the door in front of you. You shove down the sob rising in your throat, fingernails digging into your skin.
He did what?
You’re seething. What the fuck? This actual hardass planned this all from the beginning. He knew. He knew something was going to happen and instead of informing you, he joined a fucking pirate crew.
Gramps would smile every time he’d open his journal, looking forward to every morning when he’d be able to read another new message.
You barge out the door, letter firmly grasped in your claws.
You’d stay in the workshop, pretending to be refining your blades, but in the corner of your eye, you’d be secretly watching, waiting for him to open his leather cover, and be met with your love.
The sunlight splinters through into your weakened eyes, the heat in your legs increasing as you begin charging towards the cave, towards the coastline, towards the fucking Sunny.
It was something so little, something so insignificant. But between you two, it was an earth-bending way of expressing your love, your gratitude to one another.
You leap onto the Sunny, standing straight in front of a knotted Luffy, his body stringing over the mast like a broken flag.
His eyes widen immensely as he sees you, breathing in a considerable amount of air, before screaming,
“RAYAAA-“
You throw your hand into the air, gaining more and more speed as your fingers plunge forward, and you strike at Luffy’s cheek.
You slap him. You slap Luffy with Gramps’ letter. Hard.
“Raya!” Usopp shrieks, running to restrain you. “What’s going on?”
“What did I do now?!” Luffy moans, wringing his arms around the mast.
“You let my old man join your crew?” You scream at Luffy, Usopp struggling to restrain you.
A synchronous “What?!” from the entire crew resounds on the Sunny, everyone momentarily forgetting their activities.
“Is it true, Luffy?” Chopper’s eyes are practically bulging.
“Oh, that!” Luffy scratches his head, a goofy grin plastered across his face, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing in your eyes. “Yeah, I did!”
"What do you mean, 'Yeah, I did'?" Sanji interjects, cigarette dangling from his lips. His usual calm demeanour cracks, revealing a hint of irritation.
Luffy shrugs, "He asked if he could join, and I said sure. He's a cool oldie."
Usopp struggles to hold you back as you seethe with anger, the letter crumpled in your grip. "Cool oldie? Luffy, he’s gone! He didn’t intend to actually join; he's trying to make me join. Do you understand?” Luffy, still clueless about the emotional turmoil he's caused, scratches his head again. “No?”
You find your voice, the anger giving way to a desperate plea. "Luffy, he did this because he knew he was going to be taken away, and he didn't want me to be left all alone. He wants me to join, to continue his legacy.”
Luffy's grin fades as he looks at you, the weight of the situation dawning on him. "Ohhhh…”
Zoro, who's been leaning against the mast with closed eyes, finally speaks up, "Luffy, you should've at least informed her. We don't know what she's been through."
You snap your head up, glaring straight at the fucking marimo.
“What did you just say?” You hiss.
Zoro, leaning against the mast with his eye still closed, seems undisturbed by your sharp retort. His posture remains relaxed, but there's a subtle tension in the air, an unspoken challenge between you and the swordsman.
Your glare, fuelled by frustration and betrayal, meets Zoro's closed eye. It's as if he can sense the storm of emotions within you, yet he remains unfazed.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Zoro opens his eye, revealing a keen gaze that pierces through the charged atmosphere. The intensity in his expression matches yours, a silent acknowledgment of the clash between two strong-willed spirits.
As you lock eyes with him, there's an unspoken understanding that goes beyond the immediate conflict. It's a recognition of shared defiance, a stubbornness that transcends words. Zoro doesn't look away; instead, he meets your gaze head-on, challenging you to confront the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.
Usopp, sensing the escalating tension, takes a step back, observing the interaction between you and Zoro with a raised eyebrow.
You take a step forward, still seething with anger, and Zoro, in response, pushes himself off the mast. The distance between you two narrows, and the air crackles with the unresolved energy of conflicting emotions.
“Don’t act like you understand anything,” you hiss, your voice laced with bitterness. “You’re the one who let him get taken.”
Zoro's eyes narrow at your accusation, a flicker of irritation breaking through his calm exterior. The crew, still frozen in the wake of your outburst, watches the confrontation unfold with a mixture of surprise and concern.
"I didn't let him get anything," Zoro retorts, his voice low and steady. "Your old man made his own choice. Don't put that on me."
Your fists clench at your sides, the pain and anger surging through you. The words you exchanged with Suki's journal replay in your mind, intensifying the overwhelming emotions. You take another step forward, closing the gap between you and Zoro, your eyes locked in a battle of wills.
"He joined the crew to protect you," Zoro continues, his gaze unwavering. "He wanted you to live freely, without being tied down to whatever he’s hiding."
"He didn't need to join a crew of pirates for that," you shoot back, your voice shaking with rage and sorrow. "He could've told me. He could’ve let me choose my own choices."
Zoro's jaw tightens, and a rare hint of emotion flashes in his eyes.
Franky and Chopper, still on edge, watch the intense exchange between you and Zoro.
You tear your gaze away from Zoro, the anger subsiding into a heavy sadness. Your shoulders slump, and the weight of the recent events presses down on you; everyone watches, unsure of how to comfort you in your moment of vulnerability.
Luffy's expression turns more serious as he looks at you, "He said not to tell you…He wanted it to be a surprise."
You hold the paper in your hand like grasping at the last remnants of your grandfather. "Luffy, do you have any idea what he wrote in this letter?"
The crew falls silent, awaiting your response. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before speaking.
"He said if he's alive, I shouldn't look for him. Pretend he’s dead. Continue living my life as if nothing ever happened. I’m sick of him telling me what to do, Luffy. I’m sick of the secrets and the surprises and...and...."
The weight of those words hangs in the air, a heavy silence settling over the tumbling waves. Nami places a warm hand on your shoulder, squeezing you in comfort.
“Something bad’s happening,” you say, looking at each and everyone in the eye. “I can just feel it. And there’s no chance that I’m going to just… let my old man...”
“Then, join us,” Luffy intervenes, crossing his arms.
You stare at him, taken aback by his bluntness. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?"
“I did,” Luffy affirms with a nod. He steps towards you, placing a hand on the other side of your shoulder, and offers you a slight smile. “No hard feelings, Swords, but we’re gonna grab Gramps with or without you being a part of our crew. And this time, it’s your choice. Not Gramps. Not anybody’s. Yours. You choose.”
"I..." You pause, unsure of what to say. "I mean..."
Luffy cocks his head at you, beaming.
"Well? What's it gonna be?"
195 notes · View notes
chaotic-mystery · 11 months
Text
Say It Right |
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✰ Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader
✰ Summary: what happens when your dad leaves and Joel looks too good working on an old mustang?
✰ Word Count: 1.9k
✰ CW: SMUT. 18+ ! Minors DNI. Unprotected p in v, Mutual pining, established relationship, implied age gap (reader is mid 20s Joel is late 30s) choking, roughness if you squint, swallowing, oral (m receiving), secret relationship (duh), dirty talk.
All of my dbf! Joel is pre-outbreak, but he’s not a father (I’m sorry!)
ꨄ Let me know what you think! ꨄ
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The Texas summer nights were your favorite, especially when your dad invited you over to hang out with him in the garage as he and Joel worked on his old blue mustang. Your dad had a fridge full of beers and the radio in the corner playing some local station so it wasn’t too boring. Every so often your dad would be so far under the hood cranking away at some piece with a wrench, you’d look over at Joel who was already staring at you, admiring how good you looked sitting on that old bar stool in your own world. What you’re actually doing is zoning out and thinking about Joel's hands that are caked in grease, his clothes that are absolutely filthy from crawling underneath the car. The words on the pages of your book aren’t even computing in your head, it’s just a prop at this point to cover your face when your thoughts become sinful. His dirty hands touching on your body, pinning you against the car as he takes you from the back, fistful of your hair as he calls you a good gir-
“Honey? Did you hear me? Can you get me the torque wrench from the tool box please?” Your dad requested, a frustrated sigh vacating his mouth. “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, the book is just so good.” You mutter the terrible lie as you wag the book slightly in the air, Joel standing next to your dad with a little smirk dancing on his lips. As you turn around to look in the tool box and look for the torque wrench, your dad told Joel to hop in the car so they can see if it runs right after he tightens one last piece. Handing it to your dad and curious to see what they’re doing, you held the light for him so he could see what he was doing. “Thanks, Honey. Hopefully this makes it run smoothly.” He grunts as he tightens it as much as he can, telling Joel to flip it on. The blue beauty tried to start, but it sputtered before it grew quiet in the garage. Your dad tossed the tools on the floor, throwing his hands up. “Fuck this, I’m taking a break. I need more smokes and I’m out of beer. I’ll be back soon. Do you guys need anything?” Your dad asks, pointing between you and Joel. Shaking your head no, you looked at Joel and he hesitated before saying, “No, im good buddy. Go get your smokes, cool off.” Your dad pushed the garage door button, causing the big overhead door to open. The rain was pouring on the slab of concrete, thunder rumbling in the distance. 
His truck slowly backed out, pulling off down the street. Joel climbed out of the car and started working on the engine once more. You peaked at him over your book, the bridge of your nose resting in the crook of the pages. The clicking of the torque wrench echoed the garage walls that were covered in tool boxes and playboy posters, Joel seeming to be in deep concentration. “Do you wanna help? I can feel your eyes on me, sweet girl” he remarked from under the hood, a chuckle following closely. “Uh- yeah, sure” you mutter as you walk towards him, your hands suddenly feeling damp with sweat. You helped your dad work on things here and there but you didn’t want to seem like an idiot in front of Joel. Cars weren’t really your strong suit, but you knew the basics and that was enough to make your dad proud. 
“So, take this and tighten all these bolts here that you see, okay?” he explained as he placed the wrench in your hands and pointed to the bolts he wanted you to tighten. Reaching down under the hood, you start tightening one when you feel his hand on your waist and the other on the side of your head holding onto the hood. His eyes watch your hands as you move the wrench back and forth, taking your time and enjoying the rain and Joel's presence. The radio was playing your favorite song, ‘Say It Right’ by Nelly Furtado, and you started swaying your hips slowly as you stand up straight.
Oh, you don't mean nothing at all to me (Hey, oh, oh, hey)
No, you don't mean nothing at all to me (Hey, oh, oh, hey)
But you got what it takes to set me free (Hey, oh, oh, hey)
Oh, you could mean everything to me (Hey, oh, oh, hey)
Both of Joel’s hands gripped your waist as he pressed himself against you, grinding against your ass that moved to the beat. “You like this song, baby? Sing it for me with that pretty voice of yours?” He mutters as he brushes your hair off your shoulder and to one side, placing a kiss on your bare skin. His brisk kiss was just enough to send warm tingles down your spine, your cheeks warming up quickly. “I’m not singin’ for you, cowboy. Nice try.”
I can't say (say) that I'm not (not) at a loss (loss) and at fault (fault)
I can't say (say) that I don't (don't) love the light (light) and the dark
You turn to face him after you close the hood of the car, leaning against it with your palms resting flat against the cold metal. His brown eyes looked at your lips and back at your eyes and you knew he wanted to kiss you. “Are you gonna kiss me already or do I need to kiss you?” you mocked and tilted your head to the side slightly, the sweat on your skin glistening under the fluorescent garage lights. He walked towards you slowly, splitting your legs as he stood between them and leaned over you with his hands supporting himself on either side of your body. “What makes you think I wanna kiss you, darlin?” he playfully asked as he brushed his lips over yours softly, his breath dancing over your hungry lips. 
From my hands I could give you something that I made From my mouth I could sing you another brick that I laid From my body (from my body) I could show you (I could show you) A place (a place) God knows (that only God knows) You should know, this space is holy (Oh oh oh oh) Do you really wanna go? (Three, four)
“I saw you staring at me every time my dad wasn’t lookin’. C’mon, I’ve been a good girl. I’ve sat over there in my own world and not teasing you for once in front of him.” your fingers tinkered with the small necklace hanging from his neck that was dangling in your vision slightly. “You think so, sweetheart?” His lips closed the space between you, his soft kisses turning roughly quickly. 
“Joel the garage door is open” 
“Who gives a shit, they can’t see us and it’s the middle of the night on the weekend. If they’ve got nothing better to do, the least we can do is give them a show, right?” he joked as he kissed your neck and down your chest, his plump lips leaving a trail of kisses down to the tops of your breasts. 
“You wore this little sundress to make my head spin, didn’t you angel?” his hands pawed at your full breasts, his hands running over the soft material that barely covered them. “Maybe, I’ll never tell. You look so good covered in all that grease and dirt, Joel. I don’t know what it is but I wanted you to pin me against the car and take me right there.” Your thoughts flew out before you could stop and he wrapped his hand around your neck slowly, giving you a dark grin as he pulled you close and you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Is that what you want me to do to you, pretty baby? You want me to fuck your little pussy right here on daddy’s car?” You took your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded, tossing your head back as you imagined what he’s going to do to you. Joel stands up and the belt on his waist comes undone, his jeans went down just enough for your hand to pull his hardened cock out from his underwear and start moving your hand back and forth. His head falls back in pleasure and groans your name quietly. His hand went up your dress and rubbed your clit through your underwear, the fabric growing wetter and wetter. “Do you feel how much I need you, Joel? Please, make me feel so good” you whimpered as you spread your legs and rested your feet on the bumper, knees bent as you pulled your dress up around your torso for him. 
“Fuck me, baby doll, you are so damn sexy. Look at you just waitin for me, so patient” His fingers pull your panties to the side, a groan behind gritted teeth was gifted by Joel, his eyes mesmerized by your glistening pussy. The head of his cock slapped against your clit before making its way inside you, earning a delicious moan from you. “God damn, Joel baby, you feel so fucking good inside me already.” Grabbing your hips as he starts thrusting inside you, he pulls the top of your dress down to expose your beautiful breasts. The pad of his thumb is put on your tongue and yanked away with your saliva dripping off it as he rubs the wetness over your nipples. Your whimpers of his name get louder and mix with his moans, his praise sending your head into the clouds. You reach down and rub your clit softly, slightly overstimulating yourself. Joel noticed what you were doing and begged you to keep going, to let him watch. “Yeah baby, get yourself off on my fuckin cock, baby. Rub that pretty fuckin clit for me” he moaned as he pumped into you harder, you sweaty skin sticking and slapping together. He was glistening and looked so beautiful, his hair damp and dripping slightly with sweat but he didn’t care. Joel leaned down and kissed you, shoving his tongue in your mouth. Drinking up your moans and sharing his in your mouth, you rubbed your clit even faster, moving yourself to the edge of releasing. “Fuck Joel yes- keep going just like that. Fuck me harder, Joel. Make me cum on my dad’s car, baby.” You begged him as your stomach started caving, your orgasm right around the corner. His calloused hand met your slightly sweaty neck once more, squeezing tightly as he pounded into you with everything he had. You lost all senses as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, his name being shouted from your lips. Seeing you turn into such a begging mess for him had him wanting to fill you full of his cum, but you had a different idea this time. Trying to talk through deep breaths, you asked him sweetly, “Let me swallow this time? cum in my mouth.” The look of pure shock dressed his face and he knew you were being serious. “If that’s what you want, then yeah angel. Get on your fuckin knees because im so close for you, baby doll.”
Quickly getting down on your knees in front of Joel, you gripped the back of his thigh with one hand as you started jacking him off with the other hand. You put the salty head in your mouth, mixing your juices and his precum with your tongue, swallowing and moaning as you did. 
“Oo, just like that baby. Don’t move that pretty face darlin, keep that pretty face right fuckin there for me” his jaw clenched as he began shooting his cum down your throat, your name being wrapped between curse words. You swallowed it all and continued to suck him off until he went soft, and you tucked him back in his pants. He held out his hands to help you up, pulling you flush with his drenched chest. “Go wash your knees off before your dad gets back, baby doll. Can’t let him figure out what we did instead of fixing his car.”
911 notes · View notes
kompaktcat · 8 months
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Sasha here!
CW here for references to hypnosis;
With the recent vibe of robot girls being The Thing on here lately I thought it might be fun to share a related thing of mine that's been an ongoing project for a while. While I have not had the drive or capacity to really work on new updates for it for a long while (I just kinda came out of a bit of a dormancy which does not help), this project was the collision between my enjoyment of machine/robot/pet play, hypno stuff, and a l o v e for prop making that we don't get to indulge nearly enough.
The goal with this was to make something that looked like it was plucked straight out of its universe and plopped into ours, and while not perfect, I'm proud of the work that went into it. It's intended to carry the vibe of an old software manual binder, but in a retro future sorta way.
The other goal was "Imagine if a robot girl had a manual to mess with her firmware" because let's not dance around that.
Please note that within the context of this project, where "System" appears, is meant to convey "operating system," as this project was conceived prior to RealisationsTM
Presenting the Firmware Operator's Manual
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Neofelis Integrated Systems is imagined to be a prominent industry leader in the electronics integration and cybernetics field, that is rumored to dabble in biosynthetics and synthetic intelligence development, but these rumors are unsubstantiated outside of the company. In reality they're a Bit Fucked beneath the surface.
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Opening the cover, numerous post-its are scattered on the interior, to help sell the idea that this manual existed in a real working environment. An extra LOTO tag is included in the manual, Just In CaseTM
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The interior title page mirrors the outer cover, but with some additional information. Numerous pages within this project are also dotted with UV reactive EUrion constellations to depict anti-duplication measures.
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Contents 1/2. The second half won't be shown here because Reasons. EPM here refers to Elevated Permissions Mode -wiggle eyebrows-
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You can't just design and construct synth prototypes without proper regulation. That just won't do. Everything is definitely above board here.
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These pages are just such a vibe. I can't help but add them between sections.
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There are a few graphics that were made and sprinkled into this project to really fuel the software manual vibe. The chassis diagram in the print copy is now out of date, slightly. Also, never miss an opportunity to hide memes in a creative kink project. We like easter eggs.
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Beyond this there's complete sections regarding ethics and safety (some of which is genuinely important SSC/RACK info, because that's important), and the sections containing various hypno commands, which will not be shared openly for obvious reasons. There's also the Error Codes page at the back, full of error codes I really have not bothered to memorise admittedly.
Anyways, that's all to share. Questions are encouraged though!
232 notes · View notes
octuscle · 8 months
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Aye Chronivac? I’m glad I found you. See, I have a bit of a soft spot for rugby, despite being a scrawny nerd, so I was at a game for my local team. It’s not great rugby, they’re kind of just a bunch of chavs getting out some energy haha. Well one of their props got injured today and the coach looked through the spectators and then came up to me saying meet him in the club after the match. I did and saw your guys’ logo on his phone before he played with it for a while, and then said we’re done and to call him in 2 days giving his number. Do you have any idea what happened?
That was really a bit crazy now wasn't it? You leave the clubhouse. And even though you're not really a pub-goer, now you feel like a Coke…. But as you stand between the Chavs, still wearing their sweaty jerseys, you prefer to have a beer like them. You don't know the guys, but you can still drink with them… And after two or three beers you know Michael, Wayne Gaz, Mike, Darren, Tom, Luke, Liam, Adam and Tom as if you were in kindergarten together.
It's pretty late when you stagger out of the pub together…. And it takes you some effort to unlock the lock. Fuck, these guys are really hard drinkers. With effort and difficulty you make it to the bathroom and vomit a whole row of pints into the toilet. Nevertheless, you feel surprisingly well the next morning. So well, in fact, that you go for a run before work. Amazingly, your running shoes are in the hallway and your running clothes are hanging over the chair. You didn't even know you owned such a thing….
At work today, you're not quite on top of things. You surf through the sports pages on the Internet. Reading the news about your team's opponents in the next games. Discussing the last games in internet forums. Chatting with the guys on WhatsApp. At the end of the day you really have a guilty conscience. When your boss asks you when you leave the office what you thought of yesterday's game, you feel caught. But obviously your boss really just wants to talk about rugby. He's never done that before.
After work, you go straight to the pub. A few of the guys are there, too. Someone says that your team played like shit yesterday. Without thinking, you hit them. Nobody insults your team. And the first bar fight of your life begins.
The next morning, after running outside the office, you just jump in the shower. Instead of your usual white shirt, you're wearing a rugby jersey. But that's okay, you're not doing an accountant's apprenticeship anymore. You work in the warehouse. You are certainly not an idiot. But you prefer to work with your body. That's why you're so grateful that Coach wants you on the team.
During the lunch break you call Coach. He says that you are welcome to join the training today, he could imagine you in the team.
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Rugby has always been your sport. You are very proud to be a real team with the others, not just drinking buddies. And tomorrow you will crush the opposing team!
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ayeyolooo · 8 months
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Beyond compare <3
Warnings: please read before reading the story.
Mentions of the Bible. The reader is portrayed as a black female. (But anyone can feel free to read it!) mentions of church,if you aren’t comfortable with it then you may click off of it. If you don’t like it there’s literally nothing that can do.. oh! And please excuse my grammatical errors🩷.
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You stood in the mirror trying to adjust your outfit because you were going out on a little picnic date with your boyfriend. He was the best boyfriend ever,he treated you so well. He would read to you, and read the Bible with you and go to church with you.
Your parents were extremely proud of you because you brought such an amazing man home. One thing that your boyfriend; ony stood by was his word. He was a strong man of God,and that made him wayyyy more attractive. You cleared your throat as you frowned at the brown sun dress that clinged onto your body. Your stomach had lower body fat which made you hate wearing dresses.
your phone had made a ding noise , so you turned your head and made your way to your bed. You plopped down with a sigh as you grabbed your phone from your white fluffy sheets and smiled when you seen who the message was from.
Ony <3:
Go and read songs of Songs
4:7 and 10
You grabbed your Bible and cleared your throat before flipping through the pages. Once you found the Bible verse your eyes scanned over it and your face went hot. You started to smile really hard. You immediately grabbed a highlighter from your desk, where the Bible was previously sitting on and highlighted the verses
4:7-you are altogether beautiful, my darling,there is no flaw in you.
4:10- How delightful is your love,my sister,my bride! How much more pleasing is your love than wine. And the fragrance of your perfume more than any spice!
The way he complimented you was beyond compare. He was literally your dream boyfriend. You literally loved ony so much. You FaceTimed him,with your face in the camera just smiling.
Your chubby cheeks rose up having your cheek bones stick out. Ony answer it with a smile. “Wassup ma?” He answered as he drove. “You are so sweet.” He looked down at you and his golds were revealed. “I’m just telling you the truth,mama.” He said placing his phone on his lap as he continued to drive.
“I’m outside.” He said flashing you a smile,making his dimples deepen which made your cheeks go hot. “Imma be out in a bit I need to change my clothes.” You mumbled. “Lemme see whatchu wearing.” He said placing his car in park and giving you all of his attention. “Okay.” You said propping your phone up on your dresser and stepping back so that he could see your outfit. “What’s wrong with that mama?” His eyes full of confusion. You turned to the side showing off your lower belly. “This.” You pouted as continued to stare at it. “Y/n cut it out,you’re so gorgeous. The lord made you the way he made you. He finds you beautiful right along with me.”
“Stop thinking that your body looks bad,because it doesn’t.” Ony said staring at you in your eyes. Making sure that you heard what he said. “Okay?” He softly asked you. “Okay.” You softly spoke. “Speak up y/n, I wanna hear you say how beautiful you are.”
“I’m beautiful.” You said. “Again.” He simply said. “I’m beautiful.” You said this time actually believing yourself. “There we go mama.” He said.
“Now cmon for our food get cold.” Ony said whining. You just chuckled and slipped your feet into your slides and grabbing your cropped Jean jacket. You hung up and began to lock the door.
You made your way to his car with a smile on your face. He got out and smiled down at you. He opened his arms for you and you wrapped your arms around his stomach. His arms wrapped around your lower back. “Hiii my gorgeous girl.” He whispered pecking your forehead.
As the two of you hugged you could hear birds chirping,and airplanes flying around.
“Okay ready to go?” Ony asked walking you over to the passenger side and opening the door for you. “Yes.” You said smiling up at him.
Once the two of you were in the car it was a comfortable silence. “Y/n , you may see all these girls but you. You’re beyond compare.”
Hiii my babiesss! I tried something new and I like it :) did you like it? If you did I’m happy that you did!! You are so gorgeous, just as the Bible says. Whenever you think that you’re ugly remember that you’re the most beautiful thing in Gods eyes. Until my next post,see you soon babies🫶🏽.
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lovelybarnes · 2 years
Text
you- b. barnes
pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: mutual pining, a littleeee angst about: request by the sweetest @lovelyrdjr , best friends to lovers
“bucky,” you sing as you enter your best friend’s room. he says your name back with a glance before looking back down at the book he’s reading—one of the ones you recommended—and drones distractedly. “guess what?”
he hums again, resisting the urge to look back up at you and the little butterfly clips pulling strands of your hair back. he recognizes them as the ones he gave you for your birthday last year. 
“bucky,” you whine when he doesn’t pay attention to you, poking his shoulder repeatedly. he holds back a smile, continuing to pretend to ignore you even though he hasn’t been able to concentrate on his book since the moment your perfume filled up the space of his room. you drag out his name again, climbing on his bed and dramatically draping yourself over him.
“yeah, sweetheart?” he responds, not taking his eyes off of his book but letting a hand fall on your shoulder, rubbing circles into your skin.
“i have news,” you inform, propping your chin on his chest.
“what’s your news?” he asks, sparing you a glance that he forces not to last long.
“well, you have to be paying attention to me to tell you.” you pout, tugging at his shirt.
“‘m paying attention.”
“no, you’re not.” you sigh exaggeratedly, dropping your cheek on his shirt. “and, as a punishment, you won’t get cake and sam will be my fiancé.”
that catches his attention, and bucky puts down his book, dog-earing the page he was on even though he doesn’t like doing it. you’re a horrible influence. “what?”
he feels you grin against his shirt, nuzzling your face deeper as you shrug innocently. “guess what opened today?”
“what do you mean sam is going to be your fiance?” bucky questions instead.
“the answer to my question will answer all of yours,” you reply cryptically, meeting his eye. you bounce lightly in petulance. “guess!”
bucky sighs. “the bakery?”
“close.” you grin, biting your lip.
“the… cake store?”
you nod excitedly. “and guess what they sell?”
bucky shrugs. “cakes?”
“yes, but what specific cakes?”
“this is a lot more than that question you said would give me answers, and i still don’t have any,” bucky complains.
“wedding cakes! and they give free samples to couples that are ‘to be wed,’” you quote the words with a goofy accent, beginning to tug his arm. “they look really good and i want something sweet and i already told the woman working there i was about to get married and would bring my fiancé back so we could try some cakes.”
bucky nods slowly, watching you bite on a nail at your confession. “are you asking me to marry you?”
you roll your eyes, pushing at his shoulder. “you know what i’m asking.”
“i think i’ll need a proposal for this,” bucky declares. “it is the custom.”
you glare at him for a moment before exhaling softly. “will you marry me?”
“that’s how you’re gonna propose?” bucky accuses, making you laugh as your head drops to his chest. shaking your head, you get off of him and drop to your knee.
“james bucket barnacles,” you begin dramatically, offering him your hand. “will you marry me and be my fiancé for an hour so i can eat cake?”
bucky pretends to think for a moment before bursting into a grin, pulling you to him. “yes, a million times yes!” he presses sloppy kisses to your face, making you laugh as you try to push him away.
“save that for the cake shop,” you recommend.
-
bucky is not proud of his triumph when people think you and him are dating. he’s never minded, and you’ve never said anything to him or to the strangers that compliment on your nonexistent relationship, shrugging it away with the fact that you will never see them again and find it useless to explain to them the nature of your relationship.
when he falls asleep with his head laying on your lap, your fingers combing through his hair, or when you smile at him in that soft way you only do to him, he catches himself believing that you don’t correct anyone for the same reason he doesn’t—not because it does not matter what unknown others think, but because you’re in love with him too.
when you ask him to pretend to be your fiancé, he revels in the fact that he won’t have to bite back his pride or hold back the ridiculous urge to thread his fingers through yours and wrap an arm around your waist. maybe he goes a little overboard, but he’ll insist it was for the role if you question it—which you don’t—and he’d kick himself if he didn’t take full advantage of the opportunity.
he’s buzzing from your touch already as you enter the shop, warmed further when you lean your head against his shoulder nonchalantly, sending you an amused look when the woman behind the register asks you if he’s “the bucky.”
he can’t help the pleasant feeling at the bottom of his stomach when you agree easily, squeezing his hand. “yeah, he’s my bucky—my fiancé.”
the woman coos at the both of you, commenting on how great you look together.
“it’s thanks to her,” bucky shrugs, genty bumping you with his shoulder. “i mean, look at how pretty she is.”
your skin heats enough for him to feel it through his shirt, making him grin and press a kiss to your forehead just because he can.
“oh, you two remind me of my husband and i,” the woman reveals earnestly. “we’ve been in love for forty-eight years. since the moment we met.”
“i know the feeling,” bucky murmurs, glancing at you to see your eyes already on him, caught on the startling honesty of his features until you snap yourself out of it, settling a smile on your lips.
“me too,” you agree quietly, toeing on the edge of too convincing.
“i’m so glad you were honest about this. do you know how many people pretend to be together to try cake?” the woman asks incredulously, shaking her head as she collects cake. bucky and you exchange a look. “so much so that i can tell if the couple is actually in love the minute they walk in here.”
“wow, that must be a frequent problem, then,” you mumble, biting your lip.
“yes,” the woman says. “but, luckily, no one can fake love once i’ve seen it enough.”
“some—some might…” you begin, her words getting the better of you, but she stares straight at you and wags her finger.
“oh no. not the real one. the one that’ll last. like yours.”
“oh,” you whisper softly, allowing yourself just one moment of believing her as your eyes meet bucky’s.
-
bucky doesn’t like to think about love.
he doesn’t like to talk about it—his love for you or, really, any of his love at all—since, by some means, love always goes back to you, leaving him in a panic because the platonic way he is supposed to love you is not so platonic at all, and he is left remembering that he has fallen in love with his best friend.
as terrified as he is of you finding out and putting your friendship at risk, he aches to tell you, to read the confessions that play in his mind when he’s around you out loud and simply attach them to a blank face instead of you, but you know him too well. as trained as he is, you’ve always seemed to be able to read his mind—and he yours—and you would figure out he was lying about his faceless girl, so he chooses to push it away and ignore it.
he leaves questions he has for himself unanswered through the fear that he’ll figure them out in a realization that he can’t hold it in anymore, that he has to risk the friendship because he can’t live as if he hasn’t completely fallen for you.
if you’ve noticed, you don’t bring it up, and he isn’t sure if he’s glad or upset about it since he can do the exact same thing to you.
he’s trying not to think about it now as pretends to concentrate on the show you’ve put on. it’s one of the comedies you love so much, and you’re completely immersed in the scene, pulling at his arm excitedly. one of the main characters is rushing to tell one of the others she’s in love with him as he does the same, and he can’t help but think, turning to you. his eyes drag over your features, his teeth digging into his lip when they catch on the happy twinkle in your eyes.
you turn to him, startled to find him looking back. “watch!” you insist. “this is the best part.”
you’re bouncing lightly as the episode goes on, one of your hands patting the bed until it finds his and holds it to your chest as if it was a comfort.
you squeeze it absentmindedly, thumb brushing against his palm.
your anticipation gets higher as the seconds pass, and then natasha is opening your door and calling your name, inviting you to game night.
friday pauses the episode when nat starts talking, and bucky is ready to angrily refuse natasha’s offer for making your features drop at the halt, glittery excitement washing away.
“sure,” you reply instead, lowering bucky’s hand to your lap and disappointedly moving to turn the television off when bucky stops you with a hand on your arm.
“why don’t we finish watching and then we go?”
you shake your head. “we can watch it later,” you reason. “i don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”
bucky isn’t happy about it, but agrees because you have. you drag him to the common room with you after brushing his hair away from his face with your fingers and straightening his shirt. as reluctant as he was at the prospect of leaving the comfort of your room—of the simplicity and comfort of you and him—the peck you give his nose when you’re satisfied with your work makes him a little dizzy and his reasons for not going a little blurry.
he sticks by your side for the entirety of the night, watching as your teammates get drunker while the sky bleeds black, the both of you remaining the more sober.
even after several of the bright drinks tony made, the knowing glint in natasha’s green eyes remains, her smirk growing as the night goes on until she sits next to you and throws an arm over your shoulders.
“let’s play a game,” she says to everyone, but her attention is on you. her words are eerily sober as she offers truth or dare, the others agreeing behind her. at the look she offers bucky, a pit grows in his stomach, suspecting she has a plan.
he doesn’t know how he did it, but he manages to avoid her for the entire game, until they’re a while in and the bottle’s neck points to him. a sinister grin curls natasha’s lips as she settles in, cocking her head at bucky. “alright barnes, dare—” she starts, choosing the order of her words obviously purposefully. he doesn’t miss the way her eyes flicker to you next to him, lips pursing. “or truth?”
he suspects she knows about the way he feels for you, and although it’s most probable that she won’t be as cruel as to force him to confess, he isn’t sure what else she could force him to do. spots of pink still splatter on his skin after the kiss you were dared to give your best friend; besides, he’d chosen dare far too many times when he was younger.
“truth.” he gulps.
“alright. i’ve noticed you’ve acted… differently lately,” nat begins. “nicer. although you barely come out here.”
“don’t hear the question, nat,” he points out, cocking a brow as she takes a sip of beer, avoiding your eyes.
“fine. i guess i’m just wondering if it’s due to an… interest,” she continues. “basically, are you interested in anyone, bucky?”
bucky swallows harshly, pressing his tongue against his cheek. his eyes tactfully flicker to you, unsurprised but startled to find you already looking back at him expectantly.
“uh,” he stammers, already knowing he’d answered the question by his actions. so he decides fuck it, they don’t know who it is and he’d rather just tell the truth. “yeah, i guess. i am—interested in someone.”
you blink, an indecipherable look going over your face for a second.
natasha, however, leans over with interest played on her features. “who?”
“‘think it’s only one question,” he mutters as a reminder, but then he hears your voice, intrigued.
“who is it?” you wonder. “is it the girl from the coffee shop? she’s so pretty.”
when he turns to you, he can’t tell you no, so he nods without thinking, “yeah, it’s her.”
something passes over your eyes; realization, he recognizes.
“my turn, right?” bucky asks, looking away from you with a blush and a clearing of his throat, but natasha shakes her head.
“actually, you’ve asked truth or dare the most out of everyone and wanda has one more question before she catches up to everyone,” she smiles. “so if it’s okay, i think she should turn.” she looks around innocently, the rest of the avengers unconcerned and shrugging sure, enjoying the show. wanda seems surprised at her words, but leans over to play anyway once everyone agrees.
she spins the bottle, and somehow—probably thanks to natasha’s fucking glare—it lands on you.
wanda claps keenly. “truth or dare, y/n?”
her face is inarguably more welcoming than natasha’s, and after kissing your best friend, giving total control over your social media to thor for the night, and making bruce blush after showing him the most… provocative photo on your phone, you pick truth. you realize it’s a mistake after catching natasha discreetly poke wanda’s arm.
“oh, uh, same question as bucky’s.”
you sigh through an awkward laugh, meeting bucky’s heavy stare. “yeah,” you admit, a strange pull curling your lips. bucky looks to his lap as he mourns in your truth. “this guy i met at that new antique store, it’s him. he’s really sweet.”
his heart would break at the words if he wasn’t paralyzed by the split-second confusion—the little time bucky’s subconscious leaves him in the dark while it ascertains something even bucky is unknown to until it isn’t.
you’re lying.
bucky’s neck snaps back up to look at you, not wanting to question you right now but later, when you’re alone. he suddenly can’t wait for this to be over.
-
he doesn’t have to wait long. natasha, for all her intrusions, recognizes when her plans have worked, and the game dissolves after a while, everyone dozing off of the couches or entertaining each other with their strange little antics.
it’s silent as you and bucky ride in the elevator, and then bucky has to get it out, the observation he can’t make sense of has been plaguing him for too long to make sense.
“you lied,” he blurts, meeting your wide eyes when your head snaps to him. your lips part in question, trying to seem nonchalant, but the speed at which you turned to look at him and the blur in your irises tells him you’re nervous. “in the game. about the guy, you lied.”
knowing well that if you try to lie you would probably get discovered again, you flounder. “you lied too!” you counteract instead. “when you sad it was the barista.”
bucky scans your face, and you realize what he’s doing too late. “it’s someone in the tower. someone who was there,” he realizes, his whole body pivoting to you.
covering your face in your hands, you complain, “stop doing that!”
the elevator doors open to an agent, making you lift your head from your hands, joining bucky when he tells them to wait for the next one, clicking to highest number on the tower as the doors close on the agent’s startled face.
you turn to him, “so what? you like someone in the tower too. that’s why you lied.”
“hypocrite,” bucky grumbles.
“it’s nat, isn’t it?” you press. “or wanda?”
“no,” bucky states, squinting at you. “it’s thor, right? either him or loki.”
“no. who is it, then? why won’t you tell me?”
“why won’t you tell me?”
“because!”
“ah, yes, thank you for that comprehensive explanation,” bucky deadpans. you glare at him.
“it’s nat,” you repeat, squinting at him even though you know it isn’t. you’re sure of it because you can hear the honesty in his voice when he negated it and you can hear it again now, because you can see it so plainly on his face in that easy way only you can do. yet you insist because there is no one else it could be.
“no it’s not.”
“it is! it has to be nat!” you exclaim.
“why does it have to be nat?”
“because there’s no one else!”
“well there is because it’s not her!”
“no—no, it’s her. i’ve seen you with wanda, you don’t like how intrusive her powers are. i don’t think you’ve even met gamora or carol and you don’t remember maria,” you list, scrounging for all the reasons you’re ashamed of having prepared. “it’s natasha. who else is there?”
“you, you idiot! there’s you!” bucky cries, stepping closer to you to take hold of your shoulders, shaking you lightly to get his point across.
“me what?” you ask dumbly.
bucky’s frustration at you bubbles over, and he growls an insult at your stupidity before pulling you to him, holding you steady as he kisses you.
you’re shocked for a second before you respond, melting against your best friend, the arms that were limp at your side looping around his neck to keep you upright. his hands are tight around your waist, tugging you as close as he can get you.
the kiss is desperate, teeth bumping as he guides you to the wall of the elevator. you pull away for a second to catch your breath, running a thumb over his cheekbone, admiring the color of his eyes. “it’s you too,” you say.
“yeah, i figured,” bucky teases, making you laugh and roll your eyes before you kiss him again.
the elevator doors part to natasha and wanda standing outside, natasha’s features colored with satisfaction.
“told you,” she whispers to wanda.
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bey0nd-1he-stars · 1 year
Text
Five Hargreeves - More than I originally planned
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Masterlist
Pairing: Five Hargreeves x reader
Word count: 1109
Warnings: Wounds, blood
Summary: Five comes home bloodied and bruised, you patch him up and give him love.
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You had stayed at the academy when Five told you he'd be going out to get a cup of coffee since there clearly wasn't any in these cabinets. You took a book from the bookshelf in the living room and sat down at one of the couches with a cup of steaming hot tea and a few pieces of chocolate that you occasionally ate between the page-turning. The sun had gone down and your only light source was the small lamp standing in the window and the light above Five's portrait. The fire in the open stove had almost gone out completely, the only flame left was the soft glow in the burnt coal.
After what seemed like almost an hour and a half you began to wonder where he was. It didn't take that long to get a cup of coffee. He'd taken the car, too tired to spacial jump, but even the car didn't take that long to drive. Five wasn't very stingy with the gas either and it was late so traffic couldn't really be the problem. You looked up from your book to check the time one more time and your gaze got stuck on Five's portrait. The oil paint was shiny and he looked so... nobel. Five had always been proud and probably a bit of a pompous ass, but on the painting he looked almost like royalty. He looked like he deserved to be up there. Considering he'd survived an apocalypse and gotten back to the right timeline to save his siblings and you, he probably actually deserved the portrait.
The front door got shut and the sound seemed to echo through the house. Your gaze snapped in the direction of the hall and you saw Five walk in. The obscure lightning made it hard to see him properly but when he almost fell towards the wall, propping himself up and limping in towards you, you shot up from the sofa and rushed towards him.
"Oh god, you're bleeding!" you placed your hands on his shoulders, examining him closer. He had a nasty wound on the side of the head, his clothes were torn in a few places and the smell of blood filled your nostrils. His uniform jacket was partly crimson red and his knees were scraped up pretty badly. Five made a vague gesture towards the jacket, "mostly not mine," his voice was hoarse and he shifted his weight over on you instead of the wall, trusting you to hold him up. You carefully led him to the couch you'd previously been sitting on and lowered him down to sit on it. He gave out a huff off air as he fell back to the cushions, his eyes closing momentarily before meeting your gaze.
"I'll be right back," you mumbled and set off towards the bathroom to get a first aid kit and some painkillers. When you returned, Five looked as if he was sleeping. His green eyes were closed and his breathing was somewhat even. You softly shook him, "I'm back," you mumbled and gave him a small smile. He looked extremely tired and worn out but gave you a weak nod as an answer.
"You don't have to..." he said quietly and made a gesture to the things in your hands and his wounds. You just shook your head at him and sat down in front of him on the floor. You poured out some of the alcohol you had to clean his wounds on a cotton pad and carefully started to clean the gashes he'd gotten on his knees. He winced and twitched at the feeling of the stinging alcohol. As you swiftly swept over the whole wound he let out a sharp hiss.
"Sorry," you whispered and placed a warm hand on his leg to hold him still. The comforting motion of your thumb softly stroking his gashed up skin made him relax a bit. You finished it up with taping the deeper wounds before moving on to the wound on the side of his head. Sitting down on the couch beside him to reach his head, the couch dipped down slightly and Five ended up slightly leaning on you. You didn't know if the action was intentional but you could swear he moved just a tad bit closer to you. He must have really hit his head if this boy was seeking touch on his own intiativ. 
"May I ask how you managed to get this traumatic brain injury?" your voice was just a whisper but a small smile played on your lips as you repeated what you'd done on his knees, on his head.
"The usual," he just replied with a small smirk, his eyes looking up to meet yours. You just shook your head at him, not really believing how he could get hurt so much. He was never without at least a scratch.
When you were done you pulled a hand though his soft, dark hair and pressed a soft kiss to his hairline. Five closed his eyes and sighted at the touch, leaning into your hand, encouraging you to continue the act of comfort. You moved your things away from the couch and put them on the floor before sitting down more comfortably. Five fell into you and you returned to pulling your hand though the dark strands. A content sight went though you and Five smiled at your reaction to the cuddling. After a few minutes Five sat up with a groan, propping himself up on his arm.
"I'm staining your clothes with blood, you know," he stated and you looked down at your sweater to see faint spots of red stained on it. "I should go change," Five groaned and pushed himself up to sit properly, not wanting to leave the couch, or your warm, comforting embrace.
"No, no- it's alright, come here," you gently grabbed his arm again, pulling him to you again, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his temple. Five sighted and he seemed to melt into your embrace, his touch starved years starting to catch up with him. 
"Are you sure?" he looked up at you through his thick lashes. You just nodded and pressed another gentle kiss at his forehead. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and pressed a kiss to your neck.
"You know," he started, looking up at you again,"I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned." You laughed softly at that, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.
"Same," you whispered against his lips, stroking softly over his wound. "Same."
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zeezeecave · 2 months
Text
Professor!Izogie x Professor!Reader Headcanons (FINAL Part)
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Content: Suggestive themes.
Taglist: @mybonafidefeelings @gr00vyminibus @masterajoy314 @blkbinz @xenaizogie @scribblecake @blacksapphhicmaddonna
~~~
Prof!Izogie and you finally agreed on how to conduct your lectures after going back and forth for 3 hours about it. You lectured on Tuesdays, and she was on Thursdays. On exam weeks, the two classes would pair up and explain their topics to each other as a way to study and test what they know. Just like what you two were doing now. Testing each other’s expertise in your respective subjects.
“So, the Agojie was first created by Benin’s first and only female leader, Tassi Hangbé?” You couldn’t begin to hold back your astonishment. “Why the fuck didn’t we learn this in primary school?!”
Izogie dryly chuckled, leaning forward in her chair and propping her chin on her palm, “Take a wild guess.”
You huffed and rolled your eyes, “Patriarchy.”
She hummed, “Among other things.”
You weren’t too proud to admit to her that you would’ve gained confidence earlier on in life if someone had taught you that. A warmth spread through your colleague’s chest as she could tell you were starting to understand why history was important. 
She leaned back and searched book by book on her shelf with a manicured finger. Spotting the spine of the book scribed with the leader’s name, she pinched it off the shelf and handed it to you. “Most of her history has been deliberately wiped out, hence how small this book is.”
Prof!Izogie’s fingertips lingered in the air after your hand brushed hers when you accepted the book. She could have sworn the blood that rushed up her arms was a sign that there was going to be something more between you than she anticipated. While your eyes were skimming the description and first couple of pages, she took the liberty of really looking at you. The dress pants you wore hugged your midsection and hung loosely around your legs, leaving your curves to her imagination. When her eyes trailed back up, her breath hitched when you were watching her check you out. Gulping, she nodded to you. “Your turn.”
Prof!Izogie who was asking questions she already knew the answer to. She just really liked to hear you talk. Usually, when you both didn’t have any students visiting during office hours, the small room was filled with the typing of keyboards and the absence of conversations. She asked questions within her questions, marveling at how meticulously you answered each one. She wondered if you knew how hot you were when you spoke about things you were passionate about.
“Been feeling pretty tired lately. I started that,” she snapped her fingers a few times, acting like she was searching for a word, but really she was making shit up as she went. “keto diet last week along with my workouts.” 
Your eyebrows practically shot up to your hairline in disbelief. “Oh well, no wonder you’re tired!” You sat back in your seat and neatly slotted the book she gave you into your briefcase. Her heart fluttered from how carefully you treated her things. 
“Remember that aerobic process I explained, well there are anaerobic processes before that kick in that are imperative to…” And the wordy, but strangely understandable explanation that flowed from your lips graced her ears. 
Prof!Izogie who leaned forward on her desk, stroking her chin and nodding every other sentence to show you she was intently listening. Almost too intently. She was paying such close attention that she could see the slight tint of red on your lips, which probably faded throughout the day as you sipped your cup of coffee. She definitely wanted to kiss the rest of your lip tint off, just to see how it would look on her, of course. No other reason at all.
“... which would eventually cause kidney problems, heart disease, and brain fog,” You concluded. You only just noticed how engaged she was during your spiel. She even took off her glasses at some point, her dark and deep eyes looking into yours with a certain intensity you couldn’t quite place, but it made you fidget and burn nonetheless.
Izogie leaned back in her chair and took her black-rimmed glasses, still keeping you under her heated gaze, “I’d hate to have a brain fog,” her fingers twirled the specs slowly. “I wouldn’t be able to educate you properly otherwise.”
Something in your gut flipped. If you were standing, you’re sure that your knees would have turned to jello and buckled. 
Prof!Izogie who smirked when you tried to cover your flustered state with a clearing of your throat. The laugh that left her after you said so you don’t care about your kidney and heart being fucked up? The brain fog is what got you? was sweet and she felt so light. She knew she was blurring the lines between personal and professional with each flirtation she threw your way, but she couldn’t help it. You were too fine, too smart, too witty, and too fun to mess with to resist. And her catching your sneaky stares whenever you thought she wasn’t paying attention only egged her on.
Prof!Izogie helped you grade papers when she was done with hers. She moved her chair to the front of your desk, so she didn’t have to walk back and forth and verify if she was grading them correctly according to your rubric. She bit back a wide grin whenever you thanked her genuinely, adoration blooming when she could tell you were slowly letting her in by receiving her help better. In addition to her occasional teasing.
“Why do you type so loud yet your nails are short?” she said, head tilting to get a better view of you stabbing the keypad. You rolled your eyes and kept typing away,
“I can’t help it, it’s just how I type!” you responded. Her nails came into your view and your eyes shifted to them. They were way longer than yours, yet you barely could hear her typing from across this small space.
“Your technique just sucks,” her teasing was met with the childish display of your tongue before you went back to work.
Prof!Izogie who would only wait for you to leave the office to leave herself. It was finals season and you both were swamped with grading assignments in time before the last day of classes. She noticed you were pulling all-nighters alone one night and quietly decided to stay with you, despite your insistent protests. Seeing your eyes reddening from the consistent lack of sleep was the last straw for her though.
“Come on, we’re done for the night,” she said, leaving no room for debate. You groaned and wiped your eyes. You wanted to get these last few papers out of the way so that you could focus on the final exam.
“Just a,” a yawn crawled through. “few more of these, then I’ll…” Your head fell forward and Izogie’s reflexes caught you. Your eyes shot open for a second before returning to their half-lidded, fatigued state. A giggle shook your shoulders, and Izogie huffed. You were clearly sleepy drunk. 
“Your students will survive with getting their grades back a bit late. Nothing they haven’t dealt with before,” she said, throwing her work bag over her shoulder and taking your briefcase.
You sleepily searched your purse to hear for the jingle of your keys as you walked with Izogie into the parking lot. As soon as you heard them though, your bag was snatched from you. Slurred whining left your lips as you got dragged away from your car to hers instead.
“If you think I’m letting you drive home in this state, you’re nuts,” she opened the passenger door and gave you a ‘challenge me, I dare you’ look. “Hop in, sleeping beauty.”
You scrunched your nose and smirked, “... you think I’m a beauty?” 
This was going to be a long night.
Prof!Izogie had given you spare PJs for your night over. Just an oversized shirt that could almost pass for a nightgown. She ignored her fervent beating heart when she saw you in her clothes. She ignored her sweaty palms when she let you know that you’d be sleeping in her bed, and her on the living room couch. She ignored the lump in her throat when she bid you goodnight. But she couldn’t ignore the gentle tug at her sleeve when she tried to leave the room.
Prof!Izogie knew full well that if she turned to look you in your eyes, she would fold. Another tug and a soft call of her name followed. As if your calling out to her was a spell in itself, her head turned to you and she answered, her voice just above a whisper.
“Stay with me?” The meek request barely reached her ears.
She could practically feel her self-control draining out of her and seeping into the beige carpet under her. A cautious step forward, she asked you to repeat. You lightly kissed your teeth, no real annoyance behind it.
“Don’t get any ideas, I can only sleep with a large comforter at home and,” you shifted awkwardly, your gaze trailing away from hers. “you seem close enough.” 
Your sorry excuse of an explanation had her biting back a giggle before answering, “So, you’d like me to be your comforter?” She teased.
“Don’t say it like that!” You nudged her away from you and pulled the blanket up to your chest like your embarrassment had you in the nude. She stepped closer and sat on the side of the bed, her hips slightly touching yours. Though the covers weren’t relatively thick, you could feel the blood under your skin begin to simmer. 
Prof!Izogie who placed a gentle hand on your forearm as she leaned in, just inches from your face. Her heart hammered in her chest when you instinctively closed your eyes, waiting for her to close the distance. That could’ve been the moment when she gave into what she had been yearning for since you two first met. But a small part of her told her that this wasn’t how she wanted it. It wasn’t the right time or place.
The warm breath you felt on your lips was suddenly replaced with the coolness of her bedroom. Your droopy eyelids lifted to see her creating distance and getting off the bed to leave. Protests were on the tip of your tongue, but she beat you to it.
“I think that’s your sleep deprivation talking, Y/N,” she walked to the door and put a hand over the light switch before turning her head back to you, a small smile on her lips. “Sweet dreams.”
She left you in the dark, with your scrambled thoughts and stirred emotions about what could’ve happened if you had just leaned in a little closer. And the moment you closed your eyes, the dreams that began filled in the blanks.
Prof!Izogie and you in the lecture hall on exam day. Of course, the university assigned your final exams on the same day and time; you both were immune to the surprises at this point, but deep down, you didn’t mind it either. It just meant more time to spend together which she grew to enjoy. Once all the tests were turned in and you both wished your students good luck in their future classes, she now had you all to herself.
“This semester turned out better than I expected,” she said, stacking final exams and filing them into a folder. You hummed in agreement. Silence fell momentarily between you two, shuffling of papers and spare writing utensils filling the space before she began again.
“Want to celebrate?” she asked. Your eyebrows slightly rose.
“Celebrate what?” 
“The end of the semester, our hard work,” she slung her work bag over her shoulder and stuffed her hand in her pantsuit pocket. “...and maybe other things.”
The last part piqued your curiosity. Turning to her, a smirk forming on your glossy lips, you slowly stepped forward. She welcomed your entrance into her personal space, even leaned in herself. You were practically chest-to-chest, fronts rising and falling and hearts skipping and thumping.
Prof!Izogie’s mind whirling when your hand reaches the strap of her work bag to peel it off her shoulder. Her hands somehow found your waist, ready for the thing she was waiting for to happen as soon as you set the bag down on the long table beside her. Her fingers tingled in anticipation when she saw you bite your lip at her touch, but then you began sifting through her bag in search of something. Her eyebrows scrunched as she watched you, but her hands never left your sides.
You pulled out an exam paper and turned to her, “You accidentally took one of mine, silly.” you said in a low, sultry tone that made her stomach somersault. 
“Oh, how careless of me,” she looked down at your shiny lips, “Let me make it up to you?” 
Your gaze flickered between her lips and her dark pupils behind her glasses, “I’ll let you take me out to celebrate, then?” you suggested. She slowly nodded, rolling her lips into her mouth to prevent them from crashing into yours because you were just so close.
“Okay, I’ll send you my address later!” You slipped out of her grip. Putting the stray exam into your briefcase along with the others, you shut it and turned to the stunned woman. “See you tonight,” you said, throwing a wink her way as you brushed past her out of the lecture hall.
A breath she didn’t know she was holding escaped, and several hot and bothered breaths followed.
Prof!Izogie who couldn’t wait to make it up to you tonight.
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punsmaster69 · 2 months
Text
24/JAN/20XX
managed to sleep badly again.
papyrus definitely noticed.
we were making pancakes and i almost burned myself without even realizing.
says he might make me go to bed earlier for now.
could help, could end up with extra time spent staring at the ceiling.
tried to read something but all the words looked like they melted together on the page.
when i was talkin' to alphys, she said undyne and her were having trouble too.
that whole thing with tori the other night, plus knowing how long frisk has been secretly staying up, combined with the other's sleep issues, i realize...
"nobody can sleep lately, huh?"
"IT SEEMS NOT."
"OH! BY THE WAY! I DID GET THE CUBE SOLVED!"
he showed it to me. sure enough, fully solved.
"so, was this what you did instead of sleeping?"
"......."
papyrus tapped his foot twice and rocked a little.
"...YYYES, BUT, I WOULD CONSIDER IT A FAR MORE WORTHY INVESTMENT OF MY TIME!"
"you can't just."
"not sleep."
"to solve a puzzle."
"I DON'T SLEEP. YOU KNOW THIS."
"....."
"I'LL MAKE UP FOR IT SOME OTHER NIGHT."
"that is not-"
"WAIT!"
"I HAVE AN IDEA!"
"yeah?"
"WE COULD HAVE A BIG SLEEP-SLEEPOVER!!"
"you mean like-"
"A SLEEPOVER WHERE EVERYONE ACTUALLY SLEEPS!"
"hopefully."
"HOPEFULLY."
so we invited everyone over and got a blanket fort going.
——
papyrus covered the floor in every comforter, pillow, and cushion he could find.
i let myself fall backwards onto the now bed-like floor. frisk copied me, falling backwards and almost hitting me. probably intentionally.
"hey. i'm no pillow."
they positioned themselves horizontally so that their head was resting on me as if i really were one.
".....well."
they looked at me and giggled, getting comfortable.
"..guess i am now. can't argue with that."
"YO! PAPYRUS!"
rotating around on his knees with flowey on his lap.
"YEEES?"
"Can you toss me that long one?"
undyne pointed to the pillow near his feet.
handing flowey to toriel for a moment, papyrus grabbed the pillow and hurled it at undyne.
she caught it and added it to the section she was building with napstablook.
a pile of cushions draped with a blanket sat directly in front of the tv. i hear mettaton and alphys quietly discussing what to put on.
"Ooh, this is such a good one."
"But will it make for good background noise?"
"Here, let me suggest a nighttime 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘤."
the tv changed to display a movie thumbnail of mettaton in branded pajamas and a stuffed toy of some kind in his arms.
"......."
"Oh, you're so 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, dear."
swapping to one where he's holding a book while laying sideways over an armchair by a fireplace.
"The storytime one 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 be perfect for this."
alphys glanced at the runtime.
hint: far too long.
"..Yeah, i-it'll definitely put everyone to sleep."
"With my soothing voice? Of course it will."
"Uhuh."
——
the tv was put on low, though i think papyrus was the only one paying much attention to it.
mettaton moved over to sleep next to napstablook in their pillow-enclosure-thing that undyne is proud to have contributed to.
it took a long time for everyone to settle, but the second the lights were off most of them were out.
alphys and undyne were in the couch, but undyne slowly slid to the floor over time, ending upsidedown. she seemed unphased. alphys got up and laid on the cushioned floor beside her to make up for the movement.
i looked down at the child mostly asleep sprawled across me like a dog in a dog bed and pulled a blanket over them.
speaking of dog; the little thing appeared at some point. even it needed sleep apparently, curling up by my feet with a surprising calmness.
tori's been semi-buried under some pillows (flowey's doing) and is peacefully asleep like that.
on the opposite end of the spectrum, papyrus is asleep within a gap in the floor cushion layer where it opens directly to the carpet of our living room. despite being odd, he seems to have found it comfortable enough.
flowey's propped up with some pillows between the two of them.
and i should probably be closing my sockets too.
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scarlet-traveler · 7 months
Text
Every time Eijirou arrived at the little coffee shop a couple blocks from campus, the cute blond would be there.
That in and of itself wasn’t strange—it was a coffee shop, Eijirou was bound to see other fellow college students there, looking dead to the world as they got their caffeine fix for the day. What was strange was that the guy was always there when Eijirou got there not long after the cafe opened, when the scent of fresh-baked goods still hung heavy in the air and the rest of the world was still trying to get another hour of sleep.
He’d become part of Eijirou’s morning routine by this point: he’d arrive around 6:30 AM, greet whatever tired-looking college-aged kid was working the counter that day, order a french vanilla cappuccino and whatever pastry caught his eye, and settle at his favorite booth near the back of the shop where he would have peace to draw and a perfect view of the pretty blond as he did his own work.
The other guy always stuck close to the exit, sipping from a travel coffee cup rather than one of the shop’s mugs as he worked on his laptop and the assorted papers scattered across the tabletop, completely in the zone of…whatever he was doing. Something super complicated if the graphs and equations Eijirou had spotted on some of the pages as he came in were anything to go by. He must’ve been majoring in the sciences or something. Pretty and smart.
Eijirou hadn’t initially planned on watching the blond every morning. He hadn’t! Curiosity at the other early-riser had just grown into a few glances as he drew in his sketchbook between bites of breakfast, and soon it had become open (albeit sneaky) staring as he tried to learn as much about him as he could without actually interacting with him.
Pretty Blond (the name Eijirou had decided to give him for the time being) never really paid attention to his surroundings, earbuds in and blocking out everything around him. He also made a lot of faces as he worked. Most of the time he had a concentrated pout on his lips, but sometimes it would scrunch up into a frustrated scowl, his eyebrows angled downward and the barest hint of teeth showing past his lips as he angrily typed, or he’d have a wide triumphant smirk after puzzling through a hard problem that made Eijirou’s heart flutter in his chest the slightest bit. He liked seeing that face.
There was one morning as he’d been sketching that that smirk had grown on the blond’s face, the guy even lightly pumping his fist in triumph, and Eijirou suddenly had the thought to immortalize that look forever.
He stopped the still-life drawing of his croissant he’d been working on, and he flipped to the next page of his sketchbook and started drawing as fast as he could, determined to get as many details down as he could before that smile left his memory. It wasn’t his best work, the face slightly lopsided without his usual guidelines, and he hadn’t bothered erasing where he’d made mistakes, but that proud smirk shined up at him out of the page so he couldn’t hate it.
It became a thing after that, to use Pretty Blond as a drawing model every morning. Eijirou had been wanting to practice drawing people more, so what better way than to reference the guy that had so thoroughly grabbed his attention over the last few weeks?
Which brought him to today.
Eijirou hunched over his sketchbook, taking peeks at the blond every few seconds as he drew. He’d arrived a little later than usual, but the blond was still there at his usual table, and Eijirou had internally breathed a sigh of relief of not missing him.
The blond wasn’t making any faces today, and he wasn’t working on the multitude of papers he usually had either. Only his travel mug and a book sat on the table, and the guy had his head propped up on his elbow, a fist smushed into his cheek as he read. Early morning sunlight filtered in through the window behind him, casting his face in slight shadows while seeming to make his ash blond hair appear like it was on fire.
It was a beautiful sight, and Eijirou was doing his best to capture it in simple graphite.
Glance up, adjust the blond spikes—
Glance up, deepen the shading across soft cheekbones—
Glance up, add the tiny mole on the left side of his mouth he’d just noticed—
Glance up—
Eijirou breath hitched, his pencil freezing.
Pretty Blond was looking back at him.
Time was frozen as they stared at each other across the coffee shop, Eijirou’s eyes wide and the blond’s own unreadable, but it kickstarted back into action when the blond flicked his eyes downward toward Eijirou’s sketchbook before going back to his face, an eyebrow cocking.
Even with several feet between them, Eijirou felt his blood run cold from that gaze. Shit, had he noticed him staring? Did he know Eijirou was drawing him? He had to if his gaze had found the sketchbook so quickly.
Unable to hide it, Eijirou shakily lifted the sketchbook and flipped it around so the half-finished sketch was facing Pretty Blond.
Immediately the blond’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he even sat up straighter as he looked at the drawing. But…he didn’t look mad. He was just staring, but his intense gaze darting across the page still made Eijirou fidget nervously in his seat.
It’s not until the blond’s gaze met Eijirou’s again that he finally set the journal back down. The eye contact lingered, the other’s gaze scrutinizing, and Eijirou was trying to figure out how to beg for forgiveness for this huge overstep in boundaries when the blond propped his head on his fist again, almost identically to how he was before, and he waved lazily at Eijirou in a ‘go on’ gesture.
Eijirou blinked. He…he was letting him finish the drawing?
As if hearing the question out loud, Pretty Blond glared as if Eijirou had said something stupid before nodding at the sketchbook.
Eijirou scrambled to grab his pencil then, and he could feel heat rising to his cheeks as he got back to work. The light had shifted some as the sun continued to rise, but he could make this work.
As he glanced over at the blond again, he had that smirk on his lips as he watched Eijirou. He quickly dropped his gaze to the sketchbook, his entire face burning.
Damn that smirk.
It was maybe half an hour later when Eijirou finally finished, and he still had another twenty minutes or so before he needed to be at the art studio on campus. Before he could leave though he tore the finished sketch from his journal and stood, crossing the invisible barrier across the coffee shop to approach Pretty Blond’s table. He looked just as surprised to see Eijirou coming, pausing where he had been putting his book back into his backpack.
Eijirou stopped on the other side of the table, and before he could chicken out he thrust the drawing into the other’s hands. “Here. It’s only right that you keep it.” His now free hand then went to the back of his neck, scratching it awkwardly as a sheepish grin pulled at his lips. “I’m really sorry for just drawing you like that, that was probably super creepy and I should’ve asked first.”
Fortunately the blond didn’t look too creeped out, instead taking the drawing and examining it further. Eventually he shrugged, and he dug out a pen from his bag, scribbled something on the corner of the page, and pushed it back across the table toward Eijirou. “Keep it. Just buy me a coffee next time and we’re even.”
Eijirou picked up the sheet to see what he wrote: in a neat scrawl was the name Bakugou Katsuki—Pretty Blond’s name? He liked it—and below it was—
Eijirou’s heart skipped a beat. Was that his phone number?
His eyes jumped up to Bakugou, who was watching him expectantly. Instantly, a wide smile spread across Eijirou’s lips. “Yeah, sure man! Same time tomorrow?”
“Sure.” Bakugou finished putting away his things before standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, and with a wave over his shoulder he headed for the door. “Later, Shitty Hair.”
“It’s Kirishima, actually!” he called after Bakugou, but he only received a middle finger in response before he was out the door, the little bell over it ringing as it swung closed.
The next morning saw the same schedule: french vanilla cappuccino, a blueberry scone today, and heading to his booth in the back. Only this time, he wasn’t alone.
Bakugou was already sitting in the booth, his laptop and papers out, but there was still room on the tabletop for Eijirou’s own things. He looked up as the redhead approached, and Eijirou had the pleasure of seeing a real smile grace his lips. It was small, but it was there.
“Hey man!” Eijirou returned the smile with a wide one of his own. “Still want that coffee?”
Bakugou nodded and handed over his travel cup. “Black, no cream, two sugars.”
“Got it!” The order was made in less than a minute, and he slid the cup across the table as he slid into the other side of the booth. “So, would you be cool with being my muse again?”
Bakugou smirked over the lid of his cup as he took a sip. “You’re asking this time?”
Eijirou’s face burned. Bakugou may still be pretty, but he was sassier than he expected. “C’mon man, I’m trying to make it right! It wasn’t manly of me to do that and-“
Bakugou was waving him off before he could finish, the smirk still playing at his lips. “I’m just fucking with you. Do what you want. You want me a certain way?”
“Nope!” Eijirou grabbed his sketchbook and flipped it open to the next blank page. “Just stay how you are.”
~
Fic written for @krbkevents KRBK Month 2023 Day 21: Coffee Shop! Also on AO3, let me know what you think!
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Note
Hey! I’m trying to write a murder mystery novel and while I’ve got the broad lines laid out I’m not sure how to write a relationship like it’s already established. Not a romantic relationship, mind you but a mentor/friendship type of thing between my main character and someone higher up in the company (she’s an intern and he’s a chief editor). I really feel it’s important to make them close and make my readers like him because that will make the plot twist a lot better and painful, and believable.
Giving Weight to an Already Established Relationship
Regardless of whether the relationship is platonic or romantic, or what kind of relationship it is, if it's already established when the story begins, you need to find other ways to give the relationship weight so the reader will understand its importance. And, if there's a limited amount of page time before the two characters will be parting ways for whatever reason, it's all the more important to give it that weight as soon as possible. Here are some things you can do:
1 - Illustrate their good rapport by showing how well they get along. Show what they have in common and what they agree on. Show how their differences compliment each other, and how their disagreements aren't monumental. Show that they get one another, they both understand what makes the other person tick. Illustrate their empathy for one another, their easy communication, their in-jokes, and how they have fun together. Even if there has to be a lot of seriousness in the relationship for whatever reason, you can let the little smiles, smirks, and jokes show through in the right moments.
2- Establish their history by working in important details of their past, such as how they met, their early interactions, and pivotal moments early in the relationship. This can be done through narrative exposition, through character thought and memory recall, through dialogue with each other or other characters, through dreams and flashbacks (when used sparsely), and with "props" such as the character looking at the photo or video of them together early on. This allows the reader to be "present" during some of the moments they missed.
3 - Let them show how much they matter to each other even if it's only one moment. For example, maybe the mentor gives the mentee their father's watch and says they want them to have it because they're like the child they never had, and they're super proud of them, and love them to bits. And this prompts the other to say equally nice things. This gives the reader a direct window into how much these two mean to each other.
4 - Illustrate the stakes of the relationship beyond sadness if they were to part. What else is lost? Having a mentor? Beloved Friday night barbecues? Someone to walk the character down the aisle when they get married? A person whose knowledge or skill is valuable to the character's mission? By illustrating the full weight of what could be lost if the other character isn't there, you give the reader a deeper understanding of how important this person and relationship is.
Happy writing!
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