I don't know if you guys saw about this couple on tiktok where the wife has polycystic ovary syndrome and the husband cooked specific foods to regulate hormones and help her get pregnant. And when the baby was born, he began to choose clothes that matched his daughter's, everyday.
But Bakugou immediately came to mind.
Like he knows all that PCOS can cause and that the idea of maybe not being able to conceive children could affect you. So he avoids touching the subject. Like if you want to try, ok, if not, that's ok too.
Even though internally he might yearn at the idea of increasing the family, imagining a mini you or mini him running around the house, he was okay with letting go of it. All for you.
And when you decide to try, he tries to hide it, but ends up letting out a sigh of happiness. He wanted to try it too, plus the idea of 👉👌 madly didn't seem too bad.
So you start a diet-based routine to regulate your hormones, you walking around with a thermometer and insane periods of ovulation, with you dragging him to mall toilets.
No time to waste.
Gifted as he was, Bakugou looked for ways to not only bring what was needed for his body at meals but also make it more pleasant for his taste. He really worked, incessantly, because it was a two-way street. And he wanted to give you his all, only the best on this journey.
But Bakugou tried to keep his feet on the ground. He wanted to be there for you if it didn't work out, open to other possibilities, like pure support muscles.
So 6 months of trial and failure go by, when you decide to consult with an artificial insemination specialist and are surprised by the information that you are not only expecting one baby, but two. It was right at the beginning and that's why you didn't notice.
Another 9 months of bakugou being the pure juice of the perfect husband. Totally considerate and loving to you. Enough to even avoid touching you for fear you might break. He was soft before, now knowing you were carrying your babies then so. He even offered to clean you up when you went to the bathroom.
He really meant it when he said he would be there for everything. come what may and let there be what to have. He is everything for you.
When you finally give birth and you're there so tender and, even tired, dedicating yourself to breastfeeding the two most beautiful little packages of love he's ever seen, Bakugou allows himself to step out of the support bubble he built to protect you. Always keeping himself strong for you, he ended up neglecting himself and his feelings. And when he saw you there, after months of suffocation and expectations followed by faces contorted in sadness, he couldn't have been more grateful for the end of it all.
He asks to hold one of the babies because he feels out of practice with holding two, but promises to learn fast.
"Ready to clean dirty ass in a double dose?" you ask smiling.
"I cleaned yours, theirs is nothing."
"Bakugou!"
He couldn't wait to take them home and start the new battle that would be, but this time against dirty diapers and crying at dawn.
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not to mention that I lose my defensive posture when a guy treats me well and I get into the flirting game, but the slightest interest he shows in something else I automatically
not to mention that I lose my defensive posture when a guy treats me well and I get into the flirting game, but the slightest interest he shows in something else I automatically
“i asked my students to draw you.” were the words presented by sugawara the second it was midnight of your first year anniversary. an olive colored binder in his hands, filled with a heafty stack of paper. the cover a collage of photos of his and your adventures together throughout the year of your relationship.
his students were no stranger to your relationship with sugawara, he was an open book when it came to you. happily rambling on and on about you when asked— letting himself get distracted, instead of focusing on their intended addition and subtraction lessons. they adored you and the stories of you, including your presence alone. his small students being all the more excited anytime you dropped by and helped sugawara around the classroom for the day. so approaching the time of your one year together, his student’s favorite teacher announced his gift plan during arts and crafts time. all for his upcoming anniversary with his lovely girlfriend that they also adore so much. their little hands grabbed their broken crayons and dried out markers. happily ready to help contribute a gift for you.
the binder was filled with a drawing from each student. each page having their own time to shine in your eyes. a warm, gentle expression plastered onto your face— appreciating the small details of the portraits of you. of course, it wasnt museum level work. but each detail made your heart warm each time. the harsh eraser marks, the parts where the ink from markers gave out, clumps of crayon wax. all of these were a given. but the details of your beautiful body didnt go amiss. you could tell, sugawara probably emphasized on making sure they didnt lack any detail about you. the soft shape of your figure, the color of your skin, your stature, your clothing style, the accessories you wear— and it only made your heart swell in warmth even more.
as you continued onto another page, your plump fingers dug through the corner to flip to the next illustration. though sugawara’s gentle hand was suddenly placed atop of yours, warmth and love easing comfortably onto your skin. his voice followed with a soft tone that eased carefully beside your ear, “i shouldnt have favorites… but this next ones my favorite.” and with your raised brows of intrigue and anticipation, the page revealed before you was a drawing of two figures. one in a clean tuxedo, and the other in a white dress and veil— standing hand in hand under a smiley face sun… you and him.
“who knows…” his voice mellowed carefully like his touch, with a shining glint adorned his eyes as he examined the drawing. his thumb subconsciously caressing your left ring finger. “maybe this student was onto something.”
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Warning: Slight swearing , vivid description of kissing
《▪︎Chp2 - Chp4▪︎》 Masterlist
Y/N POV
I have just handed this stranger my hand.
I have handed a Grayson sthe my family honour to take our name.
I just have just handed Eiser my heart in hopes he will love it.
and I really don't understand my feeling toward this
Just minutes ago I let fear consume me. I risked ruining my family's already purslane reputation soly so I didn't know what awaited in this man clutchs. Know I just to have to bury the obvious dreed draining my will to be here and the already awkward introduction to our "blooming with deep love" relationship.
but the vail of optimization has to fall aggrement and it seems I am the one to let it go so when Eiser looked at me for eassurance and held out his hand I told him my true feelings. "I know , but I still don't know"
A very vauge but accurate represation of what I felt. There was just too little known about him and how we will fall into our roles of husband and wife but I still took his hand because I was willing to find out.
His large hands were eloped in mine as he guid me up the podium. He checked that my trail didn't make me trip. His eyes trained on my dress with a solft look. I appertiated all the consideration by returing a bright smile.
We took a final step to the poduim. Looking back I see a wave of people. Investers , staff ,childhood friends and my family staring back at me with intenspation I wonder know what there reaction would be to finding out I was a run away bried. 5 000 guest there would alot.
I may of been distracted for too long before a cold touch of slender hands skimped my cheek. Directing my attention to Eiser as he looked down at me with a pointed look , nudging his head to our waiting priest. Well shit , I awardly shuffle my body to be facing each other so the preiest could start the sermon , embarrassed.
All sounds drowned out as I wallo in self-pity. It was even more hard to stay composed while still trying to maintain eye contact with Eiser. His attation was all on me with a unreadable expression and stricking blue eyes over whelmed me.
"Do you Eiser Grayson take the hand of Y/n sernity to be your lawfully weded wife" The Priest asked towards him
Eiser stare suddenly became hard. Searching my soul so intimately I should look away but I didn't.
He reached for a very lavish ring , my wedding ring. Grandmother did't allow me to have much input in the wedding preparation , she said because I was already swammped with work it would give me even more unnecessary stress so I haven't even care to see such a important peice of jewellery.
Eiser delectly look my right hand and sliped on the ring. His pale hands as soft as they were in the garden.
"I do" he finaly responds to priest , flashing a faint charming smile to me.
The priest turns to me and asks
"and do you Y/N Sernity take the hand of Eiser Grayson to be your lawfuly wedded husband"
I repeated Eiser actions. Taking his ring and slipping it onto his ring finger before looking back to Eiser with the sudden happness of how well the everything was going , disproving my fears.
"I do" more composed I then respond.
"Then I here by decalre you husband and wife , you may now kiss" the priest declares.
"Well that was some thing I forgotten. My nerves start to rise again as I take to look down so to not look Eiser in the eyes. I had kissed other before but the amount was little and I was little and it sure wasn't infront of 5000 people.
My vail is slowly removed. Letting my face be shown to Esier in all it glory.I muster up the courage to again meet Eiser eyes but his was already on mine , waiting for my approval yet again to make a move.
Eiser pushs to be flush against my chest by sliding his hands to the small of my back. Leaning down so close I can see the intense blues in his eyes.
"I am going to kiss you Y/N , I need kiss in a way to send a message to those arounds us" he wispers
"Can I?" the angst in his tone noticable.Is he anxious too.?
What he was doing was wanting to put up a show. We already skiped our vows , there could be staff who saw my attempt to escape and our relationship was already speculated to be contractual beacuse of the suudenes so we need to sl
"Yes you may Eiser"
Lips coverd mine softly and swiftly. Hands tangls into my hair to keep the connection from drifting. He angles his head to deepen the kiss and push it to be longer
This was the most intense I ever flet. Eiser had took my breath away in more ways in one this evening , with anger , saddnes and know ... lust.
I grip onto eiser chest for a sense of balnce and to indecated I need to breathe. However I doen't seem he understood because when we finally sepreated . Lips swollen , flushed from the lack of air and realization of what just happed. Eiser swips my feet off the floor , catchs my fall and then dips us into a second kiss.
There was no time for my reactions before a tongue dips into my open mouth and hands slids up my thigh. Tingles of heat become even more intense and I can't digstingish the famliar yearning heating me hard.
I push back and chase for more. Gripping on to him for dear life and changing angles for even more entrance of his mouth.
Oh god... oh god.I don't want him to stop
but he does.
Eiser detangles us.Setting me on my feet again and put distance between us.A small connects of saliva being and aftermath of our kiss. Both Eiser and me still continue to stare at eachother , relishing on our achievement of marriage, realation we are know stuk with other for the foreseeable future and questionably intense kiss.
Regardless of which weight on our minds it didn't deter the crowd from going wild. I just only realised I wasn't only ones in the room. That kiss was to distracting and world numbing to remembered.
"lets go" Eiser must of realised that too as be grasped my arm in his and started to lead us to the aile.
All rights reserved for to @thebettermoon. Don't repost or copy my work
synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.
[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]
____________________________________________
A couple of months ago when your best friend had come up to you as you were browsing country properties online and asked what you were hoping to gain from moving to a rural place that was barely big enough to be called a town, you had said “a simpler life”. For years your head was filled with schedules and deadlines and meetings and cluttered by random facts about your coworkers so you could keep up with the polite work chitchat. Happiness was secondary, at best. But now as one of Kita’s hands moved from your cheek to your waist and gently guided you until your back was up against a fence post you thought happiness - true happiness - had finally found you.
He had no reason to be such a great kisser. With quiet passion he pressed himself against you, squeezing your chubby hips in tandem with your panting. Breathing became irrelevant. You just needed him close.
He gasped against your lips when you reached up to tug at his hair, damp from sweat in the midsummer heat.
Kita broke the kiss and waited for you to look at him. His warm brass eyes shone like honey in the sunlight. You waited for him to say something, trying to control your shallow breathing as much as possible but your thoughts were fuzzy because his thumb gently caressed your cheek. He leaned in to touch his lips against your forehead and you were already preparing to beg him to kiss you again when he did. Slower this time, the urgency from before lost in his embrace.
“Kita-san…”, you mumbled when you felt the tip of his tongue brush over your bottom lip.
“Shinsuke.”, he corrected, before deepening the kiss.
As much as Kita would have loved to say he didn’t care if anyone saw because he was too engrossed in your taste, your scent and the feeling of your soft body against him, he figured - at least for now - he shouldn’t fall apart from your touch right next to the tomatoes for all the world (or at least a random passerby on this barely traveled road) to see.
When he had managed to turn the kiss into something sweet rather than urgent he wanted to congratulate himself, because for a while there a familiar stir in his lower abdomen suggested he’d have a problem very soon. But now with your lips moving so unhurriedly and the absurdly amazing feeling of swiping his tongue into your mouth he wasn’t doing any better. Arguably much worse, actually.
Without meaning to, he brushed up the hem of your shirt and almost innocently placed his hand on your skin. Calloused hands on your impossibly soft hips along with the growing need to take off every single last bit of clothing that dared to cover your body - Kita was quite sure he must have lost his mind if his first instinct now was to have you right here in the veggie patch.
What were you doing to him that he - “Ah…”, Kita let out a shaky moan when your hand, previously driving him mad at the back of his neck, now ran down his chest and began to rub the quickly hardening outline in his pants. “Stop…”, he pleaded. He really did not want you to stop. “Not here.”
And he took your hand to lead you over to your house.
Once inside you made quick work of his shirt, dropping it on the floor on your way to the bedroom. He kissed you continuously, his hands in your hair and on your hips - squeezing, caressing, grabbing. When he laid you down on your bed he knew he’d never seen anything as gorgeous as you. The way you looked up at him with big expectant eyes, the slight part of your lips, the sinful hills of your generous curves begging to be touched. Your long flowy skirt dipped between your plush thighs, making him painfully aware that your legs were spread, waiting for him.
He stood in front of the bed, staring at you, frozen in the moment until you sat up and began undoing the button and zipper of his pants.
“Lay down.”, you said quietly, in a tone you’d used before when you offered him a seat at your table. Swallowing hard he lowered himself onto the bed next to you. You rolled to the side, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and leaned down to kiss him again. Your fingers traced over his chest, down his abdomen and slipped into his jeans. Kita whimpered when your hand closed around the stiff imprint in his boxers. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as you continued to stroke his cock through the fabric, gasping against your skin. He tried to gather enough sense to kiss or touch you, but all in his head was your hand squeezing and teasing, your shallow breaths next to his ear and your divine scent in his nose. It hardly took any time at all until he came.
“Oh.”, you said surprised when with a tremble and a splutter of your name, you felt him twitch in your hand and wetness pooled against your palm.
“I’m sorry.”, he panted.
“That’s okay.” You couldn’t help but smile at the dazed glaze over his eyes as he looked at you.
“Would ya mind if I used the bathroom for a second to …”, he vaguely gestured to his pants and you pressed your lips together not to laugh and so just nodded.
Staggering a little once he was on his feet, he made his way out of the bedroom.
When you heard the bathroom door open and close you muffled your giggle in the pillow. How adorable could one person be?
A realization tiptoed into your mind. He was probably still a virgin, you thought. The grandmothers in town had emphasized many a time how happy they were to finally see Kita - Shinsuke - with someone. Before, you figured, he might have just kept his private life, well, private. But now…
It wasn’t like you yourself were an expert in this area. But the life in the city and a couple of random dates as well as a tumultuous 3 year relationship did give you some authority.
A knock on your bedroom door brought you back to the present.
“You don’t have to knock, Ki- Shinsuke-san.”, you chuckled and the door opened.
You were glad he hadn’t picked up his shirt off the floor.
“Everything alright?”, you asked and he nodded quickly, standing a little awkwardly in the doorway.
“Should… I make us some dinner?”, you offered.
His eyes widened slightly. “No, I… what about ya?”
“It’s fine!”, you assured him earnestly, “We don’t have to-“
“But I want to.”, he said simply and his cheeks dusted pink, “Please lemme take care of ya. I’ll … I’ll do my best, I promise.”
You pressed your thighs together at his honest declaration and he laid back down when you scooted over a little.
And there he was again with his incredible kisses.
“Just tell me what ya need me to do.”
Your mouth went dry.
“Alright… first”, you said, trying to covertly clear your throat, taking his hand and bringing it from your hips up to your breasts, “touch me here.”
You laid your hand over his and squeezed a few times. He understood and continued on his own.
“Kiss me.“
He leaned in, only softly brushing his lips against yours at first but soon, his tongue pushed into your mouth again.
You moaned when his fingers grazed your hard nipple, poking against the fabric of your top.
“Lift my shirt.“, you instructed next and you saw his adams apple bop up and down as he swallowed, but he did as you asked. Bit by bit, his hand slid under the hem and raised it above your bra.
“You like it?“, you asked, teasing because you thought it was so cute how he started at the lacy trim. He nodded. “Take it off. It unhooks in the back.“
Surprisingly enough, he got it on his first try and you swiftly slipped out of the bra straps and tossed it in a corner, keeping your top on but leaving yourself exposed.
“Touch them again and… you can kiss them if you like.“
Kita took one of your breasts in his hand, the flesh spilling between his fingers as he squeezed. He lowered his head to the little valley between them and kissed you, once, twice, before bringing his lips all the way to the stiff little pearl on top, automatically taking it into his mouth and sucking it. The moan that followed was a great indication that he was doing well. He started to wonder why people ever did anything else but pleasure their partner. This was all he wanted to do for the foreseeable future, if you’d only let him. Your fingers in his hair and voice in his ear, you instructed him to move his hand lower.
Reluctantly, he let go off your breast and moved down to your tummy, squeezing a handful of your softness there as well before you told him to go lower once again. As he was still engrossed in kissing and sucking your breasts, he felt your hand on his again, guiding him into the waistband of your skirt and then your panties.
“How does it feel?“, you asked, quietly, and he looked at you with adoring eyes.
“You‘re wet.“, he observed and noticed how you bit your lips as you nodded.
“For you.“
Maneuvering your hand a little further so you had more control over his much longer fingers you pushed his index against the squishy folds he felt.
“Push it slowly into me.“
He did and was rewarded with another of your moans. You grabbed his wrist and moved it back and forth so that his finger went in and out of your warmth.
“Add a second one.“, you whispered and his middle finger joined the penetration.
“Just like that, Shinsuke…“
He loved hearing his name from you.
“Curl them up a little - yes… like that. Nng, now use your thumb to rub my clit. - Just there, yes. That‘s it - ah, don‘t stop.“
Completely mesmerized, Kita watched your face as you fought to keep your eyes open and focused on him. He was quite glad that this was a lot less difficult than he initially thought it would be.
You moaned his name again. “Kiss me, please.“ Your voice was small but much higher now. He didn‘t need to be asked twice. Keeping his fingers moving rhythmically in and out of your heavenly pussy he kissed his way up from your breasts over your neck before urgently pressing his lips to yours.
He felt you clench around his fingers, hips bucking into his touch and high pitched whines drowned in your kiss. Eventually, you let go of his hand but he kept his fingers inside you, slowly pumping in and out because he couldn‘t get enough of the feeling. He really wanted to do that again. But judging by your panting he should probably give you a minute.
Your kisses softened until he only rested his forehead against yours. His hand stopped moving but wasn‘t going anywhere.
You cupped his cheek and drew him in for one more chaste peck before you asked, “Are you gonna stay for dinner?“
Kita blinked and nodded. “If that‘s alright.“
You snorted and he joined into your laughter.
______________________
Six months later
“Whaddaya think?“ You stepped away from the kitchen table that was heavily laden with all kinds of different dishes from pickled vegetables to stews, crispy chicken and steamed fish and, of course, Shinsuke‘s favorite tofu burgers. He straightened from the floor, having just finished fixing a loose floorboard.
“It looks incredible, darlin‘.“ He pulled you into his arms and kissed your temple. The snow flurry outside promised a white Christmas.
“Ya look incredible, too.“, he muttered into your hair.
You chuckled, very familiar with what came next. Offering no resistance whatsoever you let him gently push you towards his couch and a moment later found yourself trapped underneath him. He grinned as he leaned down to run the tip of tongue along your neck, his fingers nimbly untying the string of your cooking apron.
“Shin… they‘re gonna be here any minute.“
“No no, they‘re always late.“, he murmured against your skin, now kissing down to your collarbone and undoing the top buttons of your blouse, “We still have time.“
With a giggle you threw your arms around his neck, then jumped at a screech.
“Kita-san!!“
In the doorway stood the twins Shinsuke had told you so much about. The blonde held up a hand to shield the eyes of the gray-haired one, who peaked past his brother‘s fingers to the dining table.
Shinsuke sighed and glared at Roku who all too happily sat next to the guests on the porch, merrily wagging his tail and looking between them and his owner, “Some guard dog ya are.“
genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, neighbors to lovers
warnings: spoilers
synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.
[part 1] [part 2]
____________________________________________
The next day you waited in the front yard for him on his way home and invited him for dinner again. And the day after that. And after that. Before long, you offered a standing dinner invitation and he happily accepted.
Now, Kita’s steps quickened when he called it a day. It became rarer that he stayed until sundown to maybe do something that could be easily taken care of tomorrow. Having dinner with you every night was almost as if … almost like… coming home to you. The first thing he did when he stepped through your gate was go check on your plants. The tomatoes were doing really well and your radishes, while a bit on the puny side, also weren't too shabby. He wound a few of the newly formed pea vines around the trellis, then went to knock on your door.
A wonderful smell wafted in his nose but his heart only jumped when he saw you. You were setting the table, an apron around your plump hips, your hair tied up to a bun. It took every ounce of self control he had not to greet you with “I‘m home“. But maybe you‘d find it funny if he did? He tucked the thought away for later. Right now he dusted off his clothes, took off his shoes and stepped inside.
With the rainy season came a new routine for Kita. He loved this time of year because his fields thrived in this weather and it was fun for him to go check on their growth every other day when there was a break from the downpour. While the rain splattered loudly on the roofs and puddle-strewn streets, he stayed inside, doing the paperwork that came with farming, going over numbers and making phone calls to ensure the supply chain was in order once it was time to harvest mid fall. Before, he would have used the remaining time in his days to read or do some maintenance around his home, fixing little things he noticed or building a new piece of sturdy furniture to then deliver to his grandmother in the little hamlet he grew up in 40 minutes away. And while he did do all those things, he made very sure to keep aside more time for you as well. You met up in town for a cup of tea or to go to the grocery store together or drove to a neighboring town for a famous fish market he had told you about, eating your fill of gorgeously fresh sashimi and having a drink under the beautiful traditional awnings of the shops while looking out onto the stormy waves of the ocean. You never called it a date. You always made sure to refer to it as an “outing” and while he was glad to spend time with you, no matter what it was called, he couldn’t help but deflate a little whenever you clarified it to the people in your town who had gotten curious and suspicious about how often you two were spotted together. “Our Kita never spends this much time with anyone, let alone a pretty thing like ya. Ya should pay Yumie a visit soon, I reckon.”, one of the grandmothers had noted the other day and Kita had vehemently shaken his head behind your back to make her stop. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his grandma. She would want to meddle or as she would put it “help”. She would probably invite you over for dinner and ask all kinds of embarrassing questions, strongly hinting at the fact that she wasn’t getting any younger and Kita should hurry up and give her a pretty wedding and plenty of great-grandchildren. It wouldn’t matter that her grandson hadn’t made any romantic advances to you yet or that you perhaps didn’t even see children in your future. In all honesty, Kita would be happy with whatever you wanted. You would want children? Alright, he could get started on that straight away as far as he was concerned. You would want to spend your days with him alone and get those little goats you were gushing over the other day? He would gladly comply and build their enclosure as soon as you’d say the word. But as much as he was yours, you weren’t his. He was accompanying you on outings and although you were incredibly sweet and initiated contact often, he had learned that this was just the way you were. And he was foolish to read anything else into it.
He almost didn‘t hear the knock over the rain. It was early in the morning and he sat on his couch with a cup of tea and a book but looked up when he heard your voice calling his name.
Opening the door he came face to face with a pitiful pout.
“My home flooded.“, you announced.
“What?“
“Apparently the roof isn‘t roofing as it should and now there is a huge puddle in my living room.“
A few minutes later he stood in your doorway, marveling at the myriad of blankets and towels laid out on the floor while in the middle of the room a big flower printed bucket was steadily filling up with water trickling in from the ceiling.
He would have a word with the town‘s realtor later for selling you a house that was anything less than perfect.
“Once the rain calms down a little I’ll have a look at it. Weather report said it should be dry in the afternoon.”
You threw him a hopeful smile.
“Really? Thank you so much! Can I make you lunch in return?”
He shook his head and upon seeing your face falter he immediately followed it with, “Ya’ve been cooking for me for weeks. Lemme do it for once.”
Personally, you thought you deserved an award for not drooling all over Kita‘s kitchen table. Seeing him shake out his wet hair when he returned from a quick run to the greenhouse for some fresh veggies was already testing you but now he was preparing said fresh veggies to turn into omurice and you were just about ready to lose your mind. There was something so wonderfully cozy and domestic about seeing this man prepare his produce with a little unconscious smile on his lips. His shoulders, broadened by the field work, moved smoothly as he fried the rice and you didn‘t hear him at first when he asked you a question, because your thoughts were somewhere else entirely. The meal immediately turned into your new favorite dish and his cheeks blushed when you couldn’t stop gushing about how good his rice tasted. You learned a while ago that it was a big source of pride for him when people complimented his produce, so you made sure to do it whenever possible, suppressing all the squeaks rising in your throat when you saw him turn shy. As you two enjoyed lunch, he requested more stories about your traveling and how you came to Japan, listening intently and asking for more details here and there. Laying a hand on your well-filled tummy you leaned back and let your eyes wander through his pristine home and out the open window, watching the continuous streams of collected rain drizzling from the shingles of the porch awning. Your eyes fell onto the little open shed next to his gate and the curled up form of his dog lazing around underneath.
“Shouldn’t we let him in?”, you asked and Kita followed your gaze.
“Hm? Why? Roku is a guard dog. He lives outside.”
“But… it’s wet outside.”, you mumbled.
“It’s nice in the hay, I promise.”
“Hm…”
“Don’t worry, he is doing well. If he’d be in here he couldn’t do his job properly to guard ya.”
Using his chopsticks, Kita placed a red bean mochi for dessert on a small plate with more fresh strawberries and handed it to you. You accepted and chewed the sweet treat thoughtfully, still looking outside, unaware of his adoring smile.
The rain did let up in the afternoon just as predicted and together you carried a ladder and some supplies over to your house. You insisted on helping and although you couldn‘t do much to assist, you noted that you could still cheer him on and make sure the ladder didn‘t fall.
Moving slowly on the wet roof he went to work. The leak was fortunately nothing major and it didn‘t take long to fix. On his way back to the ladder however -
He drew in a sharp breath when he felt a muscle pull in his shoulder.
“Oh my gosh, are you alright?“, he heard you call from the ground.
“Yeah. Just slipped.“
Kita almost missed a step on his way down when he suddenly felt your hand supporting his back. He was really trying not to enjoy you fussing over him but when you led him inside and ordered him to sit on your couch while you prepared an ice pack, he couldn‘t help but play it up eeever so slightly. And then regretted it instantly when you offered to apply a muscle relaxant balm. Ears and cheeks burning, stomach stirring, skin tingling and thoughts racing, Kita focused on a wood knot on your floor, telling himself to calm down as you rubbed the balm onto his shoulder.
With the start of the new week he was once again busy with errands in town and the city and only got to see you for your daily dinner - by now his favorite part of the day. When he got home on Friday night, he was surprised that Roku didn‘t come to greet him as he stepped out of his car. Kita looked around and found the black and white dog snuggled in the open shed in his usual space but now lounging luxuriously on a very plush dark blue pillow. He sighed as he knelt down to pet the soft floppy ears, Roku blinking sleepily up at him but not moving from his new bed.
It looked like you made it yourself, it even had the dog’s name embroidered on the side.
“She really spoils us both, hm?“, Kita muttered and Roku grumbled in agreement.
And so, with another sigh, he decided to confess to you. Soon. Even if just for his own peace of mind.
Once you had left after dinner and he was alone with his thoughts, Kita tried to focus on his book but his mind kept wandering. He had never confessed to anyone before. Quite honestly, as much as his grandmother would have been disappointed, he had been fully prepared to be alone for the rest of his days. He never would have guessed that a gorgeous foreigner from the city would take up residence in his heart. You reminded him of the little wild tulips that dotted the fields with white each new spring. They had always been his favorite because although maybe unassuming and almost delicate at first glance, when you looked closer they were resilient and just… beautiful. He should probably write you a letter to let him choose his words carefully. Yes. And he’d deliver the letter to your doorstep to then patiently wait for your response.
“Did ya already get this one?“, you asked. Deciding to use the break in between downpours Kita had suggested to do some pruning in your veggie patch. The soil was soaked and muddy but the stone plates he had laid down a few weeks ago kept both of you from sinking in.
He smiled and nodded, working on the tomato plants while you went over to trim the superfluous sprouts from the bell peppers. He noticed some days ago that you had started to use his dialect in a few words here and there and every time it happened, his stomach did a little somersault.
“Thank you, by the way. For everything else, too.“, you said suddenly. He looked at you for a moment before continuing his task.
“Don‘t worry about it. It‘s not a big deal.“
“I don‘t just mean the pruning. I mean everything. It‘s a huge deal!“, you exclaimed, “You helped me with my garden, I don‘t know what you did to that realtor but I got compensation for the leaky roof and a whole handwritten apology letter. You give me advice, share your phenomenal produce for free, built me a planter, fixed my roof“, you gave a nervous chuckle while he blushed at the list of your appreciation, “and you mean to tell me none of that is a big deal?“
“Because they‘re only natural when ya love someone.“, he shrugged and froze a moment later mid-snip when he realized what he had just said.
“What?“
“I…“
“You… you love me?“
He took a silent deep breath. “Well… yeah.“, he then said in a tone as if confirming the sky was blue, “I thought it was rather obvious.“
When you didn‘t respond, he went back to pruning, trying to exude his usual air of calm but his heart pounded in his chest. There it was. And you didn‘t say anything. So you didn‘t feel the same after all. But at least it was out now. He examined the leaf of a momotaro tomato when he felt your hand on his cheek, turning his head to you. His eyes widened when your lips touched his. Short at first. You looked at him, probably waiting for a reaction, then leaned in again.
Kita squeezed his eyes shut to drown out the rushing sound in his ears. With trembling hands he needed two attempts to get the gloves off his hands so he could cup your cheeks and pull you closer.
____________________________________________
a/n: if you made it this far, thank you so much for sticking it out. I really really loved writing this. Because this is truly everything I love 😌 the next part will have a little spice in it but if you’d rather keep this story sfw this is where is “important” plot ends 🌟
WHERE OUR PIECES FALL IN PLACE | NANAMI KENTO X CHUBBY READER
instead of an expected reunion—imagines that he’ll meet you in the middle of the street randomly one day by fate. maybe in a garden among pretty flowers but you’d be the only thing he can’t take his eyes off. or by the ocean, no one else but a man confessing his sins that shall be buried below water and he’ll be anew, he’ll be forgiven—nanami is only left with silence on your end.
a sequel to ‘SAY IT’S HERE’
sometime in the middle of the twin’s birthday party, when the candles are blown out and yuuji’s tiger face paint starts to crack around the corners of his smile, geto hands nanami two slices of cake. nice thick wedges of strawberry and chocolate, alternating pink and brown towered high with rainbow sprinkles on top.
it isn’t a surprise the twins couldn’t decide on a cake flavour so geto layered them both, however, what does surprise nanami is that he hands it to him on a plate with ice cream on the side as well. he pokes his spoon into the melting scoop of vanilla and wonders how people have the appetite for something this insanely sweet. then looks up to see gojo gobbling down his fifth serving of cake, exerting himself in getting that last piece of boba at the very bottom of his milk tea, plastic cup contracting with these resounding pops they both ignore. not to mention that he’s already gone through two pints of rocky road.
geto’s face is stoic but reluctantly so, a crease forming between furrowed brows, “thanks for coming, and thank you for the gifts, the girls love them,” is all he says, voice even. despite his loyalties to you, he doesn’t forget that he’s nanami’s friend too.
which nanami could commend him for, he doesn’t make it about himself, this is the day his daughters were born, he’s meant to celebrate. call it common ground. geto's lips lift at the corners when he looks over to see the two of them slowly prying wrapping paper off the multiple boxes nanami had flown in. he’d been undecided on what to get because gifts are not his strong suit, he’s never understood the need for such materialistic representations of love but he likes the twins, so he bought…everything under the sun. (yuuji helps them with the bigger ones and in the process, screeches so loud he almost breaks a window when it’s revealed that nanako and mimiko have received not one, but two game consoles.)
“by the way, i’m not picking sides but i think you should talk to her,” geto says warily, his hand clasped beneath his chin as he eases his way into the subject. to say that he’s torn would be an understatement because he always does this. gets in his feelings and worries til grey hairs and frown lines appear yet, it shows. geto can’t help but care for others and make it known, say it with words that don’t get caught in his throat, and proves it through his many sentimental ways.
nanami almost dismisses the notion because it’s not like he hasn’t tried. it’s been the longest time without seeing or hearing from you since…well, since you broke up with him via call, left your job, and stopped coming around the usual places. the cafe, the bakery. there had been a few missed calls in between (47 to be exact, all sparingly spaced out across weeks because he doesn’t want to seem too desperate. he’s meticulous like that) some voice messages he’s left in your chat that probably went unheard. he’s even contemplated if he should show up at your apartment. (but he’s not crazy. of course not.)
I was reading and as I read my mind went "this, this is this... this is what's missing in the works. I don't know what this is, but it's definitely the kind of thing that would keep me up for 72 hours awake reading."
type???
I don't know how to verbalize what I'm feeling, but, Lord, you know
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WHERE OUR PIECES FALL IN PLACE | NANAMI KENTO X CHUBBY READER
instead of an expected reunion—imagines that he’ll meet you in the middle of the street randomly one day by fate. maybe in a garden among pretty flowers but you’d be the only thing he can’t take his eyes off. or by the ocean, no one else but a man confessing his sins that shall be buried below water and he’ll be anew, he’ll be forgiven—nanami is only left with silence on your end.
a sequel to ‘SAY IT’S HERE’
sometime in the middle of the twin’s birthday party, when the candles are blown out and yuuji’s tiger face paint starts to crack around the corners of his smile, geto hands nanami two slices of cake. nice thick wedges of strawberry and chocolate, alternating pink and brown towered high with rainbow sprinkles on top.
it isn’t a surprise the twins couldn’t decide on a cake flavour so geto layered them both, however, what does surprise nanami is that he hands it to him on a plate with ice cream on the side as well. he pokes his spoon into the melting scoop of vanilla and wonders how people have the appetite for something this insanely sweet. then looks up to see gojo gobbling down his fifth serving of cake, exerting himself in getting that last piece of boba at the very bottom of his milk tea, plastic cup contracting with these resounding pops they both ignore. not to mention that he’s already gone through two pints of rocky road.
geto’s face is stoic but reluctantly so, a crease forming between furrowed brows, “thanks for coming, and thank you for the gifts, the girls love them,” is all he says, voice even. despite his loyalties to you, he doesn’t forget that he’s nanami’s friend too.
which nanami could commend him for, he doesn’t make it about himself, this is the day his daughters were born, he’s meant to celebrate. call it common ground. geto's lips lift at the corners when he looks over to see the two of them slowly prying wrapping paper off the multiple boxes nanami had flown in. he’d been undecided on what to get because gifts are not his strong suit, he’s never understood the need for such materialistic representations of love but he likes the twins, so he bought…everything under the sun. (yuuji helps them with the bigger ones and in the process, screeches so loud he almost breaks a window when it’s revealed that nanako and mimiko have received not one, but two game consoles.)
“by the way, i’m not picking sides but i think you should talk to her,” geto says warily, his hand clasped beneath his chin as he eases his way into the subject. to say that he’s torn would be an understatement because he always does this. gets in his feelings and worries til grey hairs and frown lines appear yet, it shows. geto can’t help but care for others and make it known, say it with words that don’t get caught in his throat, and proves it through his many sentimental ways.
nanami almost dismisses the notion because it’s not like he hasn’t tried. it’s been the longest time without seeing or hearing from you since…well, since you broke up with him via call, left your job, and stopped coming around the usual places. the cafe, the bakery. there had been a few missed calls in between (47 to be exact, all sparingly spaced out across weeks because he doesn’t want to seem too desperate. he’s meticulous like that) some voice messages he’s left in your chat that probably went unheard. he’s even contemplated if he should show up at your apartment. (but he’s not crazy. of course not.)
Synopsis: bridgerton au- 22 yrs old nd have yet to marry, only to be set up in an arranged marriage to Choso ^-^
Pairing: Choso x Fem!Reader
Content: no use of y/n nor readers appearance, Choso is 26, enemies (on one side) to lovers, reader is sharp tongued and stubborn, plotttttt booooo, just a niche fic I couldnt stop thinking about ^-^, catered for a very specific audience, if you get it- YOU GET IT.
Presented to society at seven and ten. One of the many young potential brides.
You had asked your mother to allow you to wait a few years- focus on your studies instead of marrying you off. As lacking in presence as your father was, even he said, ‘Absolutely not.’
The first year had a handful of potential husbands. But none of them could nack your witty remarks towards them. Causing your second year to have an even less amount of suitors.
The second year, you were already deemed a spinster by your parents. Attending balls and only sitting on the sidelines in the very same gowns you've worn before- only ever seeing it as a meaningless affair. Only present to watch the other young ladies receive marriage offers before you did.
By the time you were two and twenty, your mother and father saw you and saw a sort of disappointment. An only child- raised and trained for marriage- and refusing to let go of the silly notion of going through life unmarried.
They blamed you- but in reality it was a mix of their inability to keep up with the fashions of the seasons. Having to re-wear dresses didn’t help you in the situation either. That and the lack of an eye-catching dowry. Seemed as though no man wanted to marry a woman with a mere four figure dowry, no matter how beautiful.
One afternoon, as you read a book in the drawing room, you sat on the couch lazily, wearing a day dress that you deemed obsolete—dressing up for no one but the servants and your mother.
And your mama spouting- “I do not know why you insist on filling your mind with nonsense.” Pacing back and forth a few feet from you.
Causing you to lower your book and look at her with pursed lips. “It is not nonsense, mama,” you snipped, lining up your eyes with the words again. “It is Shakespeare.” you muttered, a small smile curling on your lips at the look on your mother’s face.
She was about to start speaking again- only your father walked into the room with an unaccustomed smile on his lips. Almost exasperated, “And what is it you have to smile about, my lord?” your mother scoffed, sitting on the couch across from you with a sigh.
“I have found a proper suitor for your daughter,” he said, causing your shoulders to tense and your book to lower in disbelief.
“I am your daughter as well- father.” you scoffed. Lightly pinching the bridge of your nose and sitting up.
The gleam that shone on your mother’s eyes was one you hoped you’d never see. “Who?” she asked, breathless and eager to see who would finally take you from their hands.
Your father flashed his eyes to you, almost worried for the words that dared spill from his lips- “The lord Kamo.”
You closed your eyes with a soft sigh. You had been appropriately raised to not talk back to your father, but the vein that pulsed in your mind when he said that name almost made you snap at him.
Lord Choso Kamo.
To others, just another lord without a bright and shiny title. Firstborn son and heir of the Kamo name, his mother gave birth to 8 more boys- all one year apart. And on the eighth, his mother died.
His father remarried within the year, speculated with a woman he had an affair with when his mother was still alive. Giving Choso one last little brother.
And to you, three years your senior. Choso was a playful child growing up. Chasing you around- stepping on your shoes and stealing your ribbons at the various balls you would attend with your mother.
But somewhere around the time his father died, he became more serious. Now head of the Kamo family at a mere five and ten, he grew taller and more serious-faced. And no longer picked fun at you, nor chased you around. If anything, he ignored you.
Even as a child, you had developed a special kind of disdain towards him. Seeing him as an ill-raised boy, blamed for his misdeeds by your mother. “But mama- he is the one who chases me!” you would defend when she would pull you away by the arm.
And in your teen years- you would avoid him like a plague. Holding your head high as your eyes looked over at him- his eyebrows, thick and furrowed with severe eyes scanning the ballroom.
You disliked Choso not only for his actions as a child but also because he had a dismissive aura when it came to these balls—and when it came to you now, apparently. Far too mature and busy to even hold a conversation with you now.
Only once when you were four and ten did you approach him. Standing much taller than you at seven and ten, hands behind his back with a stern look in his eye.
Choso stood near the far wall of the ballroom, his eyes scanning the lively room for his little brothers. To make sure they did not stain his legacy even further than his father had.
“I think you owe me a dance, my lord,” you spoke, standing beside him but not bothering to look over at him, dressed in a dark plum suit, a color he had taken a liking to at his coming of age.
His face churned in confusion, “Owe you a dance? Whatever for.” he spoke- improper and uncaring of this supposed debt you imposed onto him.
“For stealing my ribbons and stepping on my shoes.” tilting your head slightly, so sure you were correct.
He only scoffed, walking away from you and collecting his rowling brother.
Choso’s coldness against you was upsetting. Not because you wanted his friendship but because of how improper and indifferent he was when it came to you. Not even bidding a goodbye before walking off.
In the third year you were on the market, you stood beside him once more—you, freshly twenty, and he, three and twenty. Thinking if no other man would have you, who was the Lord to deny you?
It was not as though he was the worst man of the bunch. A decent name, a decent fortune- and a better-looking face than most suitors. His only flaw was how standoffish he could be and how improper he was with you.
Yet still. You gave the man one last chance.
“You still owe me a dance, my Lord,” you spoke, watching the people dance at the center of the room. Choso looked over to you, quickly scanning the light pink gown you wore that evening, surely to attract a suitor.
Your gaze caught the bags below his eyes, a side effect of the late nights spent in his study with only candlelight illuminating the mess of books his late father left him. And his long hair tied back, giving you an unobstructed view of his strong jaw.
“Should you not be looking for a husband?” he spewed, looking back at the dancing crowd and lightly widening his eyes. Unable to see the youngest sibling he was watching.
You let out an unamused laugh, “That is what I am doing, is it not?” looking over at him with a pleased expression.
“No, you are talking to me-” he murmured. Walking off and trying to find the pink-haired sibling with a penchant for wandering off.
After that, you swore never to speak to him again. There was a spark of hatred in your heart when you saw his stupid, serious face at the balls. And when his eyes caught on yours, you would look away, uncaring if people saw. If anything, you wanted people to see your dislike for that brinking-on beastly man.
So when your father said that he- Lord Choso Kamo was to be your husband, you almost hemorrhaged on the spot.
You did not speak to your father for three days and two nights. At the dinner table, you stayed silent. Picking at your food and avoidant of any conversation. And your mother held more than enough excitement for you both. Planning the flowers, the gown- all before the Lord even proposed.
And when your father grew tired of your silence- he shouted at you to speak.
You bowed your head, tears in your eyes—“Please,” you said in a tone of voice you had not used since you were a girl. Peering your eyes up at him, full of salt water and a weary lip. You said, “Please, do not make me marry that man, father.”
Though your papa was generally uncaring when it came to what you felt. The way you looked at him- he saw a glimmer of his little girl in your eyes. The same little girl that would cling to his leg, scared of the strangers he would present her to.
Your father took your hands in his- and you were so sure he would call it off.
“I will allow you a two-week courting period.” He whispered, watching the tears spill from your eyes. “You must marry him,” he spoke your name softly.
It wasn’t until the following day you heard your father speaking to your mother- the stoic man practically in shambles at the thought of using his only daughter as a form of paying his debts.
Before the late Lord Kamo passed, your father owed him a substantial amount of money. A debt your father was still unsure how he would pay. And the news of Choso’s father's death washed over your papa as a wave of relief.
So when a six and twenty-year-old Lord Kamo wrote to your father- something along the lines of; ‘I have in my late father’s books that you owed him an undisclosed sum of money. I would like to discuss this face to face-’
Your father thought up a million things—selling off the silverware, the dresses, and letting go of the staff—but it didn’t amount to half as much as he owed.
So when your father met up with the young Lord Kamo at a gentleman's club, he was far too inebriated. Drinking to fill the uncomfortability he felt with the severity Choso imbued in his words.
“It is my understanding you have yet to marry?” your father spoke- glass half empty in his hand as he looked at the brown-haired man before him.
Choso furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the drunk man and squinting. “I have yet to.”
“Then the matter is settled. You may have—*hic* My daughter,” he said, thralling his arm around Choso’s shoulder with a happy smile. “She is well-read. And you have been friends since youth, have you not?”
Choso parted his lips to speak—“Phenomenal!” your father said, “We will discuss the technicalities later,” ending the conversation and continuing to another topic.
In Choso’s mind, he knew the impending task of finding a wife had run at him at full speed. And rather than slotting through the many carefully primped young ladies, Choso found peace in knowing if he should have to marry, let it at least be you who he does.
The least objectionable option. Finding it revolting how the many mamas would peddle their overly young daughters to grown men. Be it you- three years his junior and knowing you far better than he would know any of them.
And when your mother advised you that the Lord Kamo had asked to see you- you felt a pool of nerves and unease form in your tummy. Knowing that the two-week period your father had granted you, would begin the minute, he would come see you.
Your mother mulled over what you were to wear when he would visit. Trying to find the best option- an option that would make your beauty distracting enough to ignore your sharp tongue.
“Mama, I’ve already told you- he is not interested in marriage” you insisted- your mother ordering you to hold a dress against your body.
“Hush up.” she insisted, causing you to sigh.
Tossing a light pink chiffon gown onto your bed- “I have known him since I was a child- mama, he knows what I am like.” sitting onto your bed with a scoff, “A frilly gown I’ve worn before won’t change his opinion on me.”
Your mother shouted your name- “Your father has said that he already agreed- mouthy and far too mature as you are. Lord Kamo has agreed to marry you.” she insisted. Making your mind reel at the possibility that he only agreed to vex you, knowing him.
As your ladies maid fixed your hair- looking into the mirror and thinking of your foiled plans. Plans that had been entirely derailed simply because the Lord said ‘yes’ to marrying you.
And as you sat in the drawing room- back slouched and a bored look on your face. Your mother did not hesitate to slap your back when the footman walked in “The Lord Kamo, to see you- my lady.” he directed at you.
Straightening your back- fixing your face as you watched the man stand at the doorway. Flowers in hand and with his hair pushed behind his ears. Unfurrowed eyebrows and nervous eyes looking at you.
You rose to your feet, “My lord.” you exasperated, lowering in a half-assed curtsey as he slightly bowed.
“My lady.” he spoke- almost unsure and far too formal for the relationship you had with him.
You clenched your jaw looking at him- your mother leaning to your ear, “Be kind, and smile.” she instructed through clenched teeth. Sitting at a tea table a few paces from the couch you were sitting on.
Choso took a step towards you, holding out the bouquet. “These are for you,” he mumbled- yet another thing you disliked about him. He spoke unclear words far too often.
You plastered a false smile on your lips, reaching for them- “Thank you. My lord.” dropping the smile and holding them out for your ladies’ maid to take them. Thinking of a snide comment, only laughing softly to yourself at- ‘make sure to leave them in the sun till next week.’ you said in your mind.
“Did I say something funny?” he asked- watching you sit onto the couch and following you.
You eased your expression. “No, unfortunately you didn’t.” you spit. Hearing a slight cough come from your mother, reminding you to be kind.
Choso parted his lips to speak- “May I ask you why you agreed to marry me?” you interrupted- a hushed tone so your mother would not scold you. Eyebrows stern and determined to know his reasonings.
The Lord squinted his eyes slightly with a furrowed brow. “I have yet to ask for your hand?” he queried- as though you had the answers that you, yourself, were looking for.
“My father says you agreed to marry me in two weeks.” deadpan face looking at his confused one.
The corner of the Lord’s lip curled, “Your father was drunk when he struck that deal.”
You rolled your eyes and looked off to the side. “So you do not wish to marry me.” you stated rather than asked. So eager to hear the words- ‘I do not want to marry you.’
“I did not say that.”
You almost groaned in frustration at his words. Only your twitchy eye went unnoticed by the man sitting before you. “Then?” you pressed, pursed lips and squinty eyes awaiting his declaration- or an excuse.
“I am reaching the age to take a bride.” he started, bordering on a mumble that only frustrated you even more.
“And why not take on a well-behaved child bride-”
Choso’s expression churned in a flash of disgust. “I did not choose you,” he spoke your name in a whisper. Improper as ever- not even using your family name with a simple ‘miss’ before it.
You blinked harshly at your name callously spoken as though you were already wed.
“Your father offered-”
“And you accepted.”
“Because I have known you since I was a boy.” he defended, “I found marrying you to be simpler than carding through the many eligible young-” you sighed at his droning on. Giving you every excuse besides the one you wanted to hear.
“You also said 'yes' to this union, did you not?” he asked. You looked off to the side, scoffing at his assumption.
Intertwining your fingers together and pursing your lips, “This union is everyone’s choice but mine.” you muttered. Looking down to your hands with a frustrated look on your face.
Choso called your name again- this time in worry. Making the vein in your temple pulse from his improper tendencies. “If you do not want to marry- I will not force you to.”
“You do not know a thing.” you spouted, causing your mother to look up from the embroidery cloth to see why you were seething in your words. And Choso only smiled at your mother, assuring her it was okay.
Clearing your throat- standing from the couch and urging him to do the same. “I think it’s time for you to take your leave, my lord.” You spoke- hearing your mother stand.
“Can’t you stay for tea?” she asked- only for Choso to look at you. Mouthing a soft ‘No,’ instructing him to assure your mother that was not necessary.
The next time Choso saw you was at a ball. You stood near a wall, a pondering look on your face, an unsipped glass of lemonade in hand, and an empty dance card on your wrist.
Looking off as though you were physically here- but your mind was elsewhere.
The Lord came up to you for the first time since he was seven. Calling your name in a mutter and pulling you from your thoughts.
“Yes, my lord?” you spoke- refusing to turn and look at him.
He inhaled sharply, “Have you thought more on-”
“It is all I think about these days.”
Choso tried thinking back on the lessons he was taught as a boy- how to approach a lady and how to ask for a dance.
He parted his lips to speak- “What is it you want, my lord?” you asked, interrupting his attempts to communicate with your tone bordered on frustration.
“I owe you a dance, do I not,” speaking your name with the same thoughtlessness as he always held. You sighed, placing your glass on the table beside you.
Looking over at him with a peaked brow, “Why is it now you want to dance? Not once have you ever shown interest before.”
He scoffed softly, “I aim to court you- dancing is part of it, is it not?”
You let out an unamused laugh, “If dancing meant courting- you declined that proposition long ago, my lord.” taking a sarcastic tone, holding your head high as he furrowed his eyebrows.
Unknowing what you were talking about, Choso squinted his eyes. “Why do you speak to me in that tone?” he looked over at you, trying to recall if he had insulted you or even done something to warrant your curt behavior.
You sighed harshly, bored of this conversation- and irritated that Choso had the guts to ask that. “My mother is summoning me-” Trying to find an escape from this conversation; you chose to lie.
Turning to face him, pursed lips and your jaw slightly clenched, “Good evening, my lord.” you spat, his eyes widening and scoffing.
As you turned to walk away, he called your name- loud enough for more than enough people to turn their heads to the source. Seeing you still in Choso's presence, his face troubled as he looked at the back of your head.
The control you had in not turning around and snapping at the man, was control you weren’t sure you held. You only breathed in a small breath and continued your steps, hearing the Lord step behind you as you walked out of the ballroom.
Nodding your head 'no' as you stepped onto the terrace- breathing in the crisp evening air and clenching your jaw. Your name was spoken again, in the same uncaring tone he always held when he referred to you.
“If I have done something to offend you-” You turned around swiftly, angered by the face before you and your eye threatening to twitch.
“If? If you have done something?” you scoffed, finding it unbelievable that he didn’t even know what he did wrong. Choso turned his head, awaiting your explanation as your gloved hands balled into fists at your side.
Choso parted his lips to speak, your name falling from his lips carelessly, making you even more upset. “Please, tell me if I have done something wrong.” The urgency in his tone fell on deaf ears.
“I do not wish to speak of this any longer-” you muttered, “My Lord.” you gritted, a breath leaving his lips at the name.
“Why do you insist on calling me that?” he lightly grimaced, cringing every time you’ve ever referred to him as that.
The control you held slipping from the satin covering your fingers. “Because it is polite—something you do not harbor,” you spat, shivering at the crisp breeze brushing against your arms.
Choso furrowed his eyebrows- even more confused than before at your proclamation. You scoffed- “Do not pretend you are unaware of what I speak of.” your chest puffing and slightly spilling from the top of your gown.
You abandoned the topic, knowing he would only look at you with the same stupid expression in wait for you to further elaborate.
Turning away from Choso and placing your hands on the balcony’s edge, sighing softly before a smile crept onto your lips.
“We have yet to marry, and we are arguing already,” you whispered, looking out into the gardens with a pummeling headache.
Choso sighed, his face troubled. “I’ve already told you—if this marriage is not of your will, I shall decline your father.”
You breathed a sharp exhale from your nose at his claim, knowing it was not up to you nor him. It was a duty your own father entrusted to you.
“It is of my will.” you muttered, hearing his footsteps creep beside you. Looking out to the same view as you.
“Then why is it you hold such disdain for me?” he whispered, looking to the side of your face in worry.
Dropping the veil of anger to answer his question in earnest. “Do you remember when we were children? And you would chase me around the Easter gardens?” you asked, taking a softer tone and looking to the very same gardens below you.
“Or when you would step on my freshly polished shoes- or steal the ribbons of my hair?” Looking back to him with a soft expression- watching his face churn to a pensive one.
A small smile formed on your lips, “I was able to forgive all of that- but when I was ten and four, you declined my offer for a dance.” your mouth in taught purse, watching his lips part to defend himself.
“And when I was twenty, I offered again.” the corner of your lip curling in disbelief, “And you declined- again.”
“This is all because I refused to dance with you?” Choso asked in a half laugh.
You huffed a smile, “No, not because you declined my offers for dancing, my lord.” clenching your teeth and the seething below your skin burning in your cheeks. “Because after all of that- you somehow managed to foil my plans for the future.”
Sighing in a straggled breath, “After all of that- you agreed to marry me. And go on as though we have been friends since childhood.” You nodded in disappointment.
“But we have been-” Choso stated in almost a question.
“You bullied me in childhood. We are not friends.” You spat in a whisper, turning and taking a step away. Only for his hand to grasp onto your clothed forearm, holding you back with an amused expression.
“Bullied?” he asked in a surprised tone. “If anyone was a bully- it was you,” speaking your name and looking at your angered expression.
Choso loosened his grip on your arm, “Do you not recall? When you would pull my ears or push me?” he smiled, remembering the memories he held fondly.
“Or when I would call you 'my lady'- and you would snap at me? Tell me that was not your name- and that you were no lady?” he scoffed with an earnest smile. You furrowed your eyebrows, barely able to remember the memory he was referring to.
“If I am so horrible- why did you agree to marry me?” you whispered, the smile on his face only growing in the slightest.
His cheeks slightly flushed and daring to inch closer to you. “I do not find you horrible,” the tone he took when saying your name made your own cheeks threaten to warm. “I never have.” he smiled.
Watching your tight expression soften, you parted your lips slightly. Darting your eyes back to the ballroom and seeing a pair of debutants whispering whilst looking through the doors.
You cleared your throat, taking a step back and exhaling a shaky breath. Choso furrowed his eyebrows and looked over to where you had looked, “A dance, my lady?” he offered his hand out to you.
You took it with a sigh, what you interpreted as anger filling your cheeks. Allowing him to guide you back to the ballroom.
A hand on your waist and other holding yours, taking precise steps as your eyes avoided his. Thinking of a way to break the tension without stuttering. “If you insist on marrying me- I ask we speak of agreements beforehand,” you expressed, avoiding the gaze Choso held on you.
His hand guiding you into a waltz, “Agreements?” he murmured, snapping your eyes back to him and nodding.
“Yes, agreements. Discuss what shall happen if we marry.” you reiterated, keeping a stern brow and ignoring the wisp of a smug expression on his face.
Choso lightly smiled, “Very well.” he murmured again, making you nod your head no with heat rising in your cheeks.
“Bring freesias for my mother- and stop mumbling.” you seethed, watching his smile deepening as he heard your demands.
-
(a.n) sooo niche and I overindulged I know, but I don't CARE.
I would secretly look forward to about 20 chapters that I would read from 0AM until 6AM and go to work with two craters under my eyes, but with the thought of "damn, it was worth it"
My outburst today is because I'm kind of tired of being reduced to just weight. it's exhausting how people feel free to be rude to you as if you don't have a mirror at home. simply because they are your family.
I'm 23 years old and for as long as I can remember, I hear comments about my weight, like, all the time. the root of my insecurity has always been the things I heard inside the house, nothing I heard outside hurt as much as what I heard inside the house.
in fact, i went into the world very armored, very compelled to be extremely careful with everything i do, the way i act, how i talk, how i look. always having to police so as not to look too much and risk becoming a target. not that it always worked, but most of the time, from what I heard outside, nothing was as heartbreaking as what I heard inside.
I remember like it was yesterday the first comment I heard, when I was only 9 years old and so skinny. "be careful not to start being unable to get through the door in a little while". in front of all the family members. some laughed, others scolded. how it hurt, I even remember crying, but I don't know what hurt the most. if it was the comment or the humiliation that turned with it.
I also remember as I grew up, these kinds of comments grew up with me. family members commented on my body as if I wasn't there, as if I wasn't worthy of respect, as if I wasn't worth taking care of either.
"it's for your own good" they'd say. "the people out there won't be sorry to talk about it". How careful, no?
I grew up having to suck it up and shut up because I wasn't worthy of being treated right. I grew up learning that I should hate myself for my body. that when someone commented something that hurt me, I should accept it and say thank you. for, apparently, that was being taken care of. that was affection. that is painful love.
and when i go out into the world and finally allow myself to open up, i meet so many wonderful people. obviously there were those stones in the way, but the treasures I found were incomparable. people who didn't boil me down to my weight, people who when talking to me weren't impolite or judgmental, people who saw me as a worthy human being, people who saw value in me.
so when I see myself hearing those kinds of comments again and again being hurt by the same words, it's a throwback. a fucked up throwback to all the emotional development I've had.
Now that I know what it's like to be appreciated for who I am, what it's like to be seen and what it's like to be cared for or cherished, I don't go back to being treated like I was before.
even if it's family or whatever, I'm not bothered with my weight, with my appearance. I'm uncomfortable with how they treat me. and if they are not willing to change for my companionship, I am more than willing to change my companionship. changing ties. that simple.
either learn to treat me right or you'll learn to never talk to me again.
Queria tanto que alguém escrevesse algo sobre geto suguru x leitor gordinho para aliviar as dores da alma miserável e da vida triste desse leitor gordinho aqui
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the title is quite explicit and self-explanatory, shitty moment and only here do I feel safe enough to expose my miserable and deplorable situation
this is going to be kind of sad so don't read it if it will make you feel uncomfortable or feel sorry for me, I don't want anyone's pity, I just want peace to keep going through this jungle I face every day
we start with my deplorable situation in every angle of my life, there isn't one where I'm really good or worthy of looking at and thinking "I'm doing fine". but well, I've been trying, really trying lmao.
well, I got a college internship, but my college is full of antics and required a minimum of credit to do the internship. I obviously hadn't. difficult situation, I had to lock up before due to serious personal problems. so I signed a letter committing myself to having all the credits at the end of the term.
friends, it was like two subjects, I had signed up for five, but life is like taking the wrong bus and only realizing it after a long time. I live like a long way from both (college and internship), it's 3 long hours standing on the bus.
At first, I thought I could reconcile, but damn, it was impossible. within a month I was sleeping 4 hours a day and it BROKE me. so I thought "I'm going to stop trying to take all of them", let's just say they were tough teachers, who really charge, they give a lot of work and the test is hell, to only go to the ones I had a better chance of passing.
But then again, life is UNPREDICTABLE.
I live in a favela/community, which means I can't go in and out whenever I want, there are times when there's a police operation, shooting, bombing and that prevents me from going, I can't risk my life, can I? if I'm suicidal yes (which I think a lot lately, by the way).
so, let's say that in one of the two subjects that I was SURE I would pass, I didn't miss it, even though I had the 2nd highest average in the class, hahahaajajah fuck me, I studied 6 hours straight for weeks to fulfill the workload of the contents that I missed due to circumstances BIGGER than myself. it was like 3 more absences, justified, 3 more absences that made me despair now.
my internship depends on these subjects, but only on that subject, as well as my college, because as I said, I live far away and it is impossible to maintain myself in it (even if it is public) if I don't work, it is unfeasible, I spend a lot, like A LOT of money (and look, I have a ticket that guarantees me 4 free bus trips). and like, my college offers some allowances like permanence (housing), food, passage, but apparently I'm not miserable enough.
you have no idea how I've been fighting, how I've been trying. I tried so hard, really.
in that same class that I failed, I went through some situations that made me question my sanity would it be worth taking risks to try to progress a little academically and financially.
like, are we in 2023? yes, i'm fat. yes, my hair gets frizzy. yes, I look defeated, I wake up at 4:50 in the morning and come back at 10/11. Being bullied and being told about things I already know is exhausting. but I thought, I can get through this, it's only one semester, I'll get rid of them and then I'll continue to do well in my internship.
but BAMMMMM 3 punch I take.
Is nothing I do enough? my maximum is not enough? Will you have to destroy me so I can get some kind of mercy
and I even forgot to mention, but from trying so hard to reconcile, from giving so much to do well in all areas, I acquired an autoimmune disease!!!
the name is psoriasis, and it was enough to destroy the only high point in my life, which was my self-esteem.
Now I don't even feel pretty anymore I have the right, apparently.
So, I would like to know if it's worth living like this? if God only gives burdens we are able to bear, I have news.
Today I already cried a lot, people. I already had thoughts like I haven't had since 2015, when I was massively bullied, lived in isolation and thought about throwing myself on the avenue every day before going to school.
and fuck, that's a fucking comeback.
I could say that I thought about taking all the pills I have to sleep here at home, which I have because psoriasis wouldn't let me sleep at night. but come on, I'm not brave enough.
I'm not miserable enough. I'm not hardworking enough. and the worst, I'm not brave enough.
just a complete failure on all counts.
and damn, I was starting to do so well on the stage. I'm like 3 months away, but I've finally been able to start to come out of my shell and engage with colleagues in the department. everyone is so nice. it's going to be so hard if I extend it until the contract time (6 months) and then have to say goodbye when I'm attached to them.
I'm kind of social and introspective, so it wasn't easy to make progress at first. but I was walking.
I talked to the teacher (I humiliated myself a little) and managed to resolve the situation.
who knew that I would be great at dealing with catastrophic situations, but unhealthy for simple things creating scenarios that would precede my death hahahahaha
the title is quite explicit and self-explanatory, shitty moment and only here do I feel safe enough to expose my miserable and deplorable situation
this is going to be kind of sad so don't read it if it will make you feel uncomfortable or feel sorry for me, I don't want anyone's pity, I just want peace to keep going through this jungle I face every day
we start with my deplorable situation in every angle of my life, there isn't one where I'm really good or worthy of looking at and thinking "I'm doing fine". but well, I've been trying, really trying lmao.
well, I got a college internship, but my college is full of antics and required a minimum of credit to do the internship. I obviously hadn't. difficult situation, I had to lock up before due to serious personal problems. so I signed a letter committing myself to having all the credits at the end of the term.
friends, it was like two subjects, I had signed up for five, but life is like taking the wrong bus and only realizing it after a long time. I live like a long way from both (college and internship), it's 3 long hours standing on the bus.
At first, I thought I could reconcile, but damn, it was impossible. within a month I was sleeping 4 hours a day and it BROKE me. so I thought "I'm going to stop trying to take all of them", let's just say they were tough teachers, who really charge, they give a lot of work and the test is hell, to only go to the ones I had a better chance of passing.
But then again, life is UNPREDICTABLE.
I live in a favela/community, which means I can't go in and out whenever I want, there are times when there's a police operation, shooting, bombing and that prevents me from going, I can't risk my life, can I? if I'm suicidal yes (which I think a lot lately, by the way).
so, let's say that in one of the two subjects that I was SURE I would pass, I didn't miss it, even though I had the 2nd highest average in the class, hahahaajajah fuck me, I studied 6 hours straight for weeks to fulfill the workload of the contents that I missed due to circumstances BIGGER than myself. it was like 3 more absences, justified, 3 more absences that made me despair now.
my internship depends on these subjects, but only on that subject, as well as my college, because as I said, I live far away and it is impossible to maintain myself in it (even if it is public) if I don't work, it is unfeasible, I spend a lot, like A LOT of money (and look, I have a ticket that guarantees me 4 free bus trips). and like, my college offers some allowances like permanence (housing), food, passage, but apparently I'm not miserable enough.
you have no idea how I've been fighting, how I've been trying. I tried so hard, really.
in that same class that I failed, I went through some situations that made me question my sanity would it be worth taking risks to try to progress a little academically and financially.
like, are we in 2023? yes, i'm fat. yes, my hair gets frizzy. yes, I look defeated, I wake up at 4:50 in the morning and come back at 10/11. Being bullied and being told about things I already know is exhausting. but I thought, I can get through this, it's only one semester, I'll get rid of them and then I'll continue to do well in my internship.
but BAMMMMM 3 punch I take.
Is nothing I do enough? my maximum is not enough? Will you have to destroy me so I can get some kind of mercy
and I even forgot to mention, but from trying so hard to reconcile, from giving so much to do well in all areas, I acquired an autoimmune disease!!!
the name is psoriasis, and it was enough to destroy the only high point in my life, which was my self-esteem.
Now I don't even feel pretty anymore I have the right, apparently.
So, I would like to know if it's worth living like this? if God only gives burdens we are able to bear, I have news.
Today I already cried a lot, people. I already had thoughts like I haven't had since 2015, when I was massively bullied, lived in isolation and thought about throwing myself on the avenue every day before going to school.
and fuck, that's a fucking comeback.
I could say that I thought about taking all the pills I have to sleep here at home, which I have because psoriasis wouldn't let me sleep at night. but come on, I'm not brave enough.
I'm not miserable enough. I'm not hardworking enough. and the worst, I'm not brave enough.
just a complete failure on all counts.
and damn, I was starting to do so well on the stage. I'm like 3 months away, but I've finally been able to start to come out of my shell and engage with colleagues in the department. everyone is so nice. it's going to be so hard if I extend it until the contract time (6 months) and then have to say goodbye when I'm attached to them.
I'm kind of social and introspective, so it wasn't easy to make progress at first. but I was walking.
