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sommerregenjuniluft · 4 months

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@jegulus-microfic january 9 - write - 946words - feat. fem!harry because i was craving girldads

(this one also esp goes out to @veryinnovative)

“Papa?”

“Yes, mon chou?” Regulus responds, shaking a curl out of his eyes to look over his shoulder as he keeps stirring.

Harrie is still bent over her artwork, crayon held in a tight fist, pigtails standing askew with half her hair falling out of them and in her little face anyways.

“Will you help me write my name?”

Regulus lowers the temperature of the stovetop to let the sauce simmer as he puts on the lid, “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

He crouches down to check the potato wedges and veggies in the oven, satisfied when they look according to the alarm he set, and gives his hands a quick rinse before he saunters over to his daughter.

The soles of his plush slippers are a faint noise against the whirring of the oven and the soft bubbling of the pot. The air smells warm and cozy with the home-cooked meal and the drying clementine peels that are still on the table from Harrie’s earlier snack.

Regulus bends over her to regard her painting, nose buried into her wayward hair, inhaling. It smells like her Strawberry Shortcake (the kid’s show) shampoo, like James’ cologne and still that distinct brand of baby that Regulus is utterly obsessed with and hopes she never loses. Well, at least as long as she’s small enough for him to still pick her up.

Harrie is unperturbed, keeps drawing little blue petals around a flower besides what Regulus assumes must be their cat, Mochi. Or maybe a very oversized ant. His little artiste.

“Can I give you a kiss?” Regulus mumbles into the crown of her head.

“Yup.”

Harrie squeals when Regulus plants a loud smooch on her chubby cheek. She smells like grapes and walnuts there too. James must’ve packed them for her lunch in kindergarden.

She tapers off into a hearty giggle when Regulus keeps peppering kisses before he lets himself fall into the kitchen chair beside her.

“So,” Regulus says pointedly, making a show of granting her his undivided attention.

Harrie nods her head, making little, silly Mhm-mhm-mhm noises. Like she’s trying to convey the importance of what follows. Or like she has a tune stuck in her head. Regulus bets his money on both.

He grins, tucking a strand behind Harrie’s ear that just falls right back into place. “Where do you want your name?”

A tongue pokes out of the corner of his daughter’s mouth and she turns her pen to point at the top edge with the end of it, “Right here.”

“Alright.”

Harrie chooses another color for her signature and then they begin to write together.

“An H. Huh—as in house,” Regulus makes, Harrie repeating the sound automatically. “Two straight lines down and then one across the middle. Good job.”

“Then Ay,” Harrie continues. The beginning of the alphabet she’s already got memorized.

“That’s right, mon chou.”

“Ha-rrr.”

“An R—that’s a straight line, with a bump on top and a leg on the bottom. That’s it. We need another one of those, remember? Your name has two.”

Just as Harrie sets onto the next letter Regulus hears a car rumble up into their driveway, head instinctively swiveling around to the window.

When he looks back down the second R isn’t entirely correct. “Whoops—look, this one has its leg on the wrong side, honey.”

“Oh,” Harrie makes, eyebrows rising, and she goes to grab her eraser.

She corrects her letter and then proceeds to draw the I without prompting from Regulus, adding a wonky heart on top.

“Good job. And an—”

“E–like eeeraser,” his daughter sings, adding the three horizontal lines to the last letter, right as Regulus hears a keychain jingle against the front door.

Harrie is now drawing a little star next to her name as James comes into the kitchen with Mochi in his arms, a leaf sticking to his paw.

“Daddy,” Harrie yells, scrambling down from her chair and hasting into James’ arms, Mochi already fleeing for his cat tree, presumably.

James hums delightedly, smiling as he squeezes their daughter to his chest, “Mm, mi amorcito.”

He’s still in his coat and beanie from outside, glasses fogging up—though luckily for him, he’s had the mind to slip out of his boots at least.

Harrie rubs her palms along James’ stubbled jaw when they pull apart, making him chuckle. “Missed me?”

“A little,” Harrie shrugs.

“Oh, only a little, huh?” James challenges, whisking Harrie up and whirling her around in the air, twirling himself and making her scream with joy.

He sets her against his hip after he successfully lost one of her hair ties on his little escapade, never to be found again or for Mochi to play with.

“Smells amazing, love,” James says warmly, gazing at Regulus before helping Harrie gently pull out the other hair tie too.

Which reminds him Regulus to check on the sauce again.

He smiles sweetly at his husband and wanders back over to the counter, grabbing the lid with a kitchen mitten and stirring the thickening sauce as he gets hit by its savoury tang and hint of black pepper and parsley.

At his back he hears Harrie and James babbling, conversing about something or the other as she takes her seat again. Something about finger paints and Ron and tea cup and pee accident.

Regulus is just stretching to get some plates when there’s strong arms wrapping around him from behind, prompting his lips into another immediate smile.

“Mi vida,” his husband mumbles, pressing a soft kiss behind Regulus’ ear.

James is warm and smells like caramel latte and outside air and the same hint of cologne found in their daughter’s hair.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus dads #jegulus girldads #jegulus raising harry #jegulus drabble #jegulus fic #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #lune’s tiny fic

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carabarabonanza · 3 months

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Ant Princess! Shes got honey pot ant boobies lol

#slay the princess #ant #anthro #insect #bug #honey #queen #princess #art

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vinetae · 1 year

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"We're made to fade, my dear."

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊɪᴍɪɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (Neighbor!AU)

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ, 18+ ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ/ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ!ᴊɪᴍɪɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴀᴜ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀꜱ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟ, ꜱʟᴏᴡ ʙᴜʀɴ ʜᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ ꜰɪʀᴇ.

ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕥𝕖: (To be decided..)

𝙰/𝙽: 𝚆𝚘𝚠, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚁𝙳 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜. 𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚜𝚘; 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 :(

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His love for stealth and secrecy got him into a bit more trouble than most kids. While other children had been busy blowing their allowances on the newest video game or action figure, Jimin had been saving up for something major. A small but carefully designed polaroid. Similar to the ones teenagers in the movies consider 'vintage'. He'd saved all one-hundred and seventy-two dollars for that rickety thing.

He'd spent hours snapping innocent pictures with his newly acquired, first love. Bees buzzing quiet in the hives above his little grounded tree fort, some ants marching on by during a planned and directed motive to store food for winter days, and even a few quick pics of his favorite dog, Ki.

For a while, things had been calm on his camera roll. A few blurred mess ups, but it had all been part of his learning experience. Things had been calm.

Quiet.

Until puberty hit.

His innocent images faded and once foliaged film strips had been slowly swapped with more.. how would you say...

Provocative activities.

Thousands of snaps, thanks to his college one-night stands had been plastered on his dorm walls. Each woman having a different set and sight to feast like-minded starving artist's minds upon. Some had been tied down, ankles cuffed to their twin sized bed, one of Jimin's belts practically shoved down her throat, etc.

His sexual needs dripping into the pot of his once innocent honeyed hobby. Narrowed and darkened eyes now guide the unsuspecting hands of his own creations and motives, as he's led blindly through the rest of his campus years. Taking in women, in exchange for more beautiful creations of his own. Women ranging all from each sides of the spectrum. His selfish deeds had given the girls unconscious boosts of confidence. He'd been titled "The Flasher".

Some had even agreed to the act. Allowing him to dress them up in all sort of attire and -unattire- until his heart's end. Some sensual black lace coiled around their beautiful sculpted figures, while some had preferred to be in the complete nude.

They never complained. Some were even asking for copies after their scandalous acts. The women had been pretty kind to his hobby.

Once he'd finished grad school, he'd decided to move into a small little town on the outskirts from the city. Nature calling, rather than his boss. He preferred it that way. Not having to listen to anymore dramatic, stretched college sex stories of who fucked who. His mind had been at peace.

Until a certain little lady stepped into his sight.

The white tailed summer's dress cascaded down her elongated figure. Half exposed legs stretch further than the he could see. A pair of sparkly, white heels to match.

Certainly wasn't a usual sight for the south.

His breath rolls out in a few hushed chuckles, wiping the excess paint from his feather brush. He watches the young woman haul the minimal of her suitcases towards the neighboring house, plopping the load onto the bouncy oak planks of Miss Kim's old porch.

He lowers himself down to the little padded chair he'd sat out for his creative activities, knee bending at the joint as he relaxes a bit. The cool winds of summer brush along his lightly tanned skin like his brush strokes upon the once blank canvas.

His eyes train upon the newly announced stranger's slim figure, watching as she struggles searching for the key the previous owner had hid. A chuckle rolls from his breath, mind wandering to his faded memories of the previous tenant.

A few moments drip by, before he mumbles a few, familiar words to her un-aided struggles.

"Flower pot."

After a few more seconds, he watches the expression of her features shine like the sun. Lighting up like the fourth of July, as your hands place themselves right where he'd silently explained.

A smile creeps his sharp features.

Interesting.

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Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

(Tag list = You'll get notified when this fic is released.)

Again, this will be a drawn out fic, rather than a short and sweet one. There will be LOTS of heavy tension and avoidance of certain.. ahem.

Feelings.

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simpforfandom231 · 4 months

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Queen of jealousy

Pairing: Rachel Zegler x Fem!reader

summory: Rachel just being the queen of sarcasme as she gets jealous when a boy flirts with her girlfriend. the show turns into a comedy show almost with funny yet snarky comments.

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The night was ablaze with the vibrant energy of a bustling bar, neon lights turning Rachel Zegler's infectious smile into a beacon of joy. She was a walking, talking dose of bubbly happiness, a total opposite to her girlfriend, Y/N, whose toughness could rival a titanium wall. With Rachel's co-stars in tow, they embarked on a night of laughter and camaraderie, blissfully unaware of the comedic chaos awaiting them.

As they nestled into a cozy corner booth, Rachel's laughter echoed through the bar, drawing curious glances from nearby patrons. Y/N, cool and collected, surveyed the surroundings with a watchful gaze.

The story took an unexpected turn when a bold young man, brimming with misplaced confidence, approached their table. Oblivious to the unspoken boundaries, he unleashed a storm he was hilariously unprepared for.

"Hey there," he grinned, locking eyes with Y/N. "What's a tough cookie like you doing in a place like this?"

Y/N, ever the epitome of composure, responded with a polite smile, "Just hanging out with my girlfriend, Rachel."

The boy's arrogance swelled as he leaned in, undeterred by Rachel's existence. "Girlfriend, huh? She doesn't look tough. Maybe she needs a real man."

Rachel, usually unfazed, shot him a look that could melt ice. "Real man, you say? Honey, I like my women tough and my men fictional, like your chances."

The co-stars erupted into giggles, catching the subtle undertones of Rachel's jealousy. The boy, however, remained convinced he had found a chink in Rachel's armor.

Undeterred, he upped the ante, boldly wrapping an arm around Y/N. "Seems like your girl knows where to find a real man."

Rachel's patience dwindled, and she fired back with a smirk, "Oh, sweetie, if I wanted a real man, I'd order one online with free shipping. Now, step off before I start a masterclass in sass."

The co-stars burst into laughter, realizing that Rachel's jokes were thinly veiled threats. Unfazed, the boy persisted, taunting Rachel further.

Y/N, sensing the impending explosion, intervened with a loving touch. "Rachel, babe, let's not waste our time on this clown."

But the boy's audacity knew no bounds. He escalated the situation by patting Y/N on the back, a move that sent Rachel's tolerance plummeting.

Rachel, now channeling her inner MMA comedian, rose from her seat, eyes ablaze with fury. "Alright, buddy, playtime's over. Time for you to learn a lesson in personal space."

Y/N, finding amusement in the chaos, leaned back with a smirk. "You just made her go from Disney to MMA. Congratulations."

The co-stars, recognizing the impending showdown, watched in anticipation as Rachel took a bold step towards the boy. Y/N, with a playful yet warning tone, urged her to calm down.

The boy, finally grasping the gravity of the situation, took a step back, stammering, "Okay, okay, I get it. No need to get all feisty."

Rachel, far from satisfied, shot him a wicked smile. "Feisty? Honey, you have no idea. Now run along before I turn you into the protagonist of my horror-comedy screenplay."

The bar resumed its lively atmosphere, the incident becoming a humorous anecdote for Rachel's co-stars. Y/N, now grinning at the absurdity of it all, wrapped an arm around Rachel, whispering, "You, my dear, are the queen of turning jealousy into a comedy roast."

As the night progressed, Rachel's jealousy lingered beneath the surface, simmering like a pot of snarky comments ready to boil over. She couldn't resist adding more zingers whenever the boy dared to linger within their vicinity.

When he attempted a feeble comeback, Rachel quipped, "Sweetie, if humor was an Olympic sport, you'd be in the 'not even qualifying' category."

Y/N, thoroughly entertained, egged Rachel on with a mischievous grin. "Babe, save some of those killer lines for our next stand-up comedy gig."

Rachel, with a twinkle in her eye, replied, "Oh, don't worry, darling. I've got enough snark to last us a lifetime and a Netflix special."

The co-stars, thoroughly enjoying the banter, joined in with their own quips and jests, transforming the bar into a haven of laughter and playful sarcasm. The boy, realizing he had unwittingly stepped into a comedy roast, slinked away, leaving Rachel victorious and Y/N thoroughly amused.

However, the night took an unexpected twist as the group migrated to the dancefloor. The boy, undeterred and seemingly equipped with a dance floor invisibility cloak, reappeared, attempting to grind on Y/N. Rachel, her jealousy now reaching cosmic levels, couldn't contain her irritation.

She shot the boy a glare that could've turned him into a popsicle. "Seriously? The audacity on this one," she muttered under her breath.

The co-stars, catching wind of the renewed drama, gathered around, awaiting the next installment of the Rachel vs. The Boy saga. Y/N, with a bemused smile, gave Rachel a nudge. "Babe, it's dance, not Mortal Kombat."

But the boy, oblivious to the simmering volcano of jealousy beside him, continued his misguided attempt at grinding. Rachel, now in her full snarky glory, decided to turn the dance floor into her comedic stage.

"Oh, look who's back for another round of rejection," Rachel quipped, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Didn't get enough of the cold shoulder the first time?"

The co-stars erupted into laughter, their amusement reaching new heights. The boy, unfazed by Rachel's verbal jabs, persisted in his awkward dance moves.

Y/N, thoroughly entertained, joined the show. "Rachel, honey, show him your patented 'You're in my personal space' dance move."

Rachel, embracing the absurdity of the moment, launched into an exaggerated dance routine that could only be described as a mix between a salsa and a martial arts demonstration. The co-stars cheered, and even the boy couldn't help but crack a nervous smile.

But Rachel wasn't done. She seized the opportunity to fire off more snarky comments with each dance move. "This one's called the 'Don't Touch What's Mine' cha-cha," she announced, twirling with mock elegance.

Y/N, doubled over with laughter, egged her on. "And here comes the 'Your Moves Are as Smooth as Sandpaper' spin!"

The dancefloor became a stage for Rachel's jealousy-fueled comedy, with the co-stars and onlookers reveling in the hilarity of the situation. The boy, now thoroughly embarrassed, attempted a retreat, but Rachel wasn't about to let him off the hook.

"Before you leave, let me teach you the 'Exit Stage Left, Never to Return' shuffle," she declared, shuffling towards him with exaggerated flair.

With the crowd in stitches and the boy realizing he had become the unwitting star of a comedy spectacle, Rachel delivered the final blow. "Consider yourself officially evicted from the Dancefloor of Love and Laughter. Adiós, amigo!"

#lucy gray x reader #rachel zegler #fandom #lucy gray baird x you #lucy gray baird x reader #thgedit #tbosas

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oceanlipgloss · 4 months

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TEETH

BEELZEBUB.

+ warnings: suggestive themes.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Fire whirled in his guts.

She had shyly bitten her lip, and he hadn't known where to look. Should he stare at the imperfect dollop of cream at the corner of her mouth, or admire the way her perfect teeth pressed down on soft flesh?

He remembered that night in the kitchen very well. He remembered how she had looked even better. It made his stomach hurt just to think about that, but he still closed his eyes and feasted on the memory.

Her lips were glossy, candied apples glazed not with sugar only, but also honey. They had to taste so sweet too, right? Sweeter than anything he'd ever had...

Dazed as he was, he couldn't quite think back then. He had felt like he was going mad. How could he not have?

His body had burned, burned, burned. The world was melting off from the heat, like soft serve. Pots and pans were melding together while spoons and forks trickled in threads of shiny metal.

And it was crazy, the way his provoked heart had hammered. His broad chest was heaving. The air felt hot in his flapping lungs. None of his shallow breaths were enough.

Oh, but what about the urges that had ravaged him? They were chomping generous helpings out of his brain. Would his brothers have commented on how that predicament might have made him a true meathead?

Still, he was painfully aware of how his violet gaze wandered like a pantry-lost ant—but he couldn't stop looking at her. Stubborn eyeballs had went round and round and back to her the minute he forced them to lock on the burnt caramel floor.

Had it even been possible to resist?

She was a dessert straight out of his dreams or heaven's oven, covered in cream drops from head to toe.

...a dessert he couldn't sink his teeth into, though.

The solid muscles of his blazing abdomen tensed. Cobalt blue fabric cracked into an unironed mess, crumpling in his big hand.

Trouble was really, truly cooking. Really.

His face was on fire and his body was on fire and his entire existence was on fire, and he couldn't even keep his eyes off her.

He couldn't take her into his arms and steal the tiniest bite even though at that moment—with ravenous desires gripping him and all—he felt like the incarnate of gluttony more than he ever had before. The sin boiled his blood and seared his veins.

He was hungry, hungry, hungry. Starving. Famished. He was all those things, and this was too cruel, too cruel, too cruel. Much too cruel.

How was he expected to polish off those cravings—deliciously carnal as they were—and stand his ground in the face of the only woman he had ever loved, when all he wanted was to swallow her whole?

How was that fair, when whipped cream lolled on her figure and made her beauty even more delectable?

All he wanted was a nibble. He would promise to try not to be insatiable. He really would. So, please...pretty please, with a cherry on top.

Just a crumb.

Her cheeks were strawberry-red, but she had summoned some strength. “Can you get it off for me?”

The delicate finger had pointed at a corner. Oh no, oh no, oh no. She was actually gesturing at that corner. The edge of her lips.

That was when his heart began to pound as it had then—so fast it could render him dead—albeit how he was currently laying in bed.

At the moment, his legs were under the quilt, not moving towards her alone as if they had grown a mind of their very own.

His mouth wasn't on hers, tongue smearing sugary cream into her parted lips.

His lip wasn't between her teeth.

So...why did he suddenly taste something just as sweet?

+note: inspired by MC's interaction with Beel while he was under the influence of Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup, a powerful aphrodisiac.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#beelzebub x mc #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #om! beelzebub #shall we date beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me #obey me swd #shall we date? obey me!#om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me fanfic #obey me shall we date #obmswd #the story factory

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irbcallmefynn · 4 months

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Ant

Ooh! Can I be a honey pot ant like Ikfa? Cause I'm getting that abdomen alllll filled up for cuddling reasons! >w< also more arms means more hugging!

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beastie-bones · 7 months

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Idk if this is gonna be to obscure but may I please have a care package for a Honeypot Ant please? :D

Here you go anon! 🍯🐜

Links below ⬇️

#otherkin #image board #therian #aesthetic #moodboard #otherhearted #board #animal #otherkith #furry #alterhuman #ant #bug #insect #honey #honeypot ant #care package

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lovedrunkheadcanons · 9 months

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Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Pic) Read on AO3

Rated M

Hannah waited for the little honeybee to lap up the rose pollen on her finger, its velvety yellow body tickling her skin as it licked and buzzed. After a minute or so, the task was finished, and bidding a fond farewell, the little honeybell turned herself around, flicked her small antennae at the generous human in thanks, and flew off.

“You’re welcome,” Hannah chimed as the insect departed, possibly returning to her hive with the saddlebags of fresh pollen clinging to her legs.

Honeybees were such amazing creatures; Never stopping, never tiring, hurrying from one pollen-filled bloom to the next. Unafraid of new opportunities. Hornets and wasps, however, were mean spirited and highly aggressive, as were German dark bees and the African “killer” bees. Common bumblebees were often mistaken for their honeybee cousins, but were not the same in both size and mannerism and could not produce honey. Other honey-less, distant relatives included ants, sawflies, and the noblest of all hymenoptera, the praying mantis, but none worked harder, nor carried as much environmental importance as the honeybee, which was why Hannah loved them so. The same golden insect emblazoned all over St. Peter's Baldachin and who’s wax was used in making Paschal candles were a gardener’s best friend. It was said that a single bee colony could pollinate close to 300 million flowers in a day, meaning if there were no honeybees - or bees in general - there’d be no flowers. If there were no flowers, there would be no flower gardeners. If there were no gardeners the world would be a much darker and less beautiful place. Crops would fail, as would roughly ¾ of all flowering plants without some sort of human intervention. Not good.

For this reason, Hannah's affection for the honeybee was insatiable. They could do no wrong in her eyes and not once had she been stung. Mother Nature’s little helpers.

Having done her good deed for the day, Hannah wiped her hands over her dirty overalls, put her gloves back on, and picked up her gardening shears and disinfectant wipes. The roses weren’t going to trim themselves.

Last week was spent tirelessly transplanting the roses from Jujutsu High to the Gojo estate. These were the same roses she had planted her first week; the night she was attacked from returning to her dorm after dark. Hannah had woken before sunrise carting the wheelbarrow and a shovel. Finally August, the rose shrubs were now rose bushes and had prospered beautifully in their foreign environment, taking on a deep reddish-purple hue reminiscent of merlot. To minimize any damage she might incur, Hannah surgically dug a moat around the thorny rose shrubs with the shovel, avoiding the delicate root hairs, and used her gloved hands to (again very carefully) unearth each prickly rose bush from the soil. Technically, it was not advisable to transplant roses in the middle of summer when the flowers were beginning to bloom and the sun was at its hottest. They were also covered with leaves and very heavy (for her). Hannah worried the whole procedure would stress the plants, causing them to go into “transplant shock,” but these were no ordinary roses. They would endure, and once all six roses had been successfully uprooted, she enlisted the help of Mr. Aoyama to wheel them up (yes, all the way up) the hill to the house.

They had placed the bushes in their own individual pot. Hannah’s homemade compost wasn’t ready. So she bought a light soilless mixture made of peat moss and perlite instead. Excellent for retaining moisture, yet allow for water to drain properly from the drilled holes at the bottom of the containers. In the end, the hardy roses not only survived the shocking ordeal, but thrived, their ruffled petals blooming like plumage, untraumatized by the event. They weren’t going anywhere. If the attracted honeybees were any indicator.

Hannah ran a disinfectant wipe over the blades and went back to trimming, cutting at a clean forty-five degree angle right above where the stem met another leaf. The clipped rose was then transferred to a water bucket with the others. So far, she had enough roses to make a bouquet for the English dining room. They hardly ever ate in there, but the wine-colored flowers would pair lovely with the oak furnishings.

She began humming a tune. A shadow eclipsed her as she clipped another rose off its stem. She felt a weight land on her braided crown, something like lips and a nose.

“Why’re you doing that?”

Hannah didn’t have to look up to know who it was, not that his voice didn’t give him away. Lately, Satoru liked perching his head on top of hers as a way of grabbing her attention.

“To clean the shears,” she answered, showing him the shears and wipes, his head staying nestled where it was. “Roses are prone to infection, so it’s best to sanitize the blades after each use.” She held up the freshly cut rose for him to take. “Here, smell one.”

Satoru took the multi-layered rose, aware of the thorns, and drew it to his nose. His brows shot straight up. “Woah.” The smell was so sweet and fruity he could literally taste it on his tongue, forcing him to comically choke down a cough.

Hannah tried suppressing a giggle. “Intense, isn’t it?”

The Six Eyes wielder nodded, blinking a few times. “Boy, you’re not kidding.” He cleared his throat and held the fragrant bloom to his nose once more, taking a more moderate whiff. The deep burgundy petals felt velvety soft on his skin. “Smells almost like candy.”

Hannah's smile widened. “These roses were a gift to me from Sister Edith before I came here.”

“Sister Edith,” Satoru mused in thought, rose still pressed to his nose. “You’ve mentioned that name before. Who was she again?”

“She was my Japanese instructor during my stay with the Sisters of St. Horatia. Every word I’m speaking to you is because of her.”

“Ah, now I remember. Sounds like she was quite the lady.”

“Of course. The best.”

“You must miss her then.”

Hannah’s smile slipped a crack. “Very much so,�� she spoke somberly, running her hands over the rose petals in her lap. “Edith was fluent in almost every language you could think of, from Greek to Juǀʼhoan. I’ll probably never see her again, circumstances being what they are.”

Satoru’s brows furrowed. “How come?”

Hannah snipped off another rose. “The Sisters of St. Horatia is a cloistered order. They’re not permitted to leave the convent.”

“Wait, for real? Like ever?”

She turned to nod solemnly. “Like ever.”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“It’s the life they chose, Satoru.” Hannah rested the rose on her lap. “The Sisters of St. Horatia are unique in that they’re archivists. They specialize in preserving and interpreting ancient texts. Magical texts. It’s believed their library holds some of the West’s oldest sorcerery. Mother Superior oversees the whole operation.”

“Mother Superior?”

“The abbess,” Hannah said. “In convents, the head nun in charge is called ‘Mother Superior.’ I don’t know what her actual name is. She’s tied closely to the Association and was tasked with facilitating where I went as a child, including my education.”

Satoru’s face perked up. “Oh right, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She stared blankly at him. “You want me to join a convent?”

“Wha — No.” He seemed partially offended. “Why would I want you to join a — ”

“Relax, silly. I’m teasing,” Hannah said, perhaps a little too happy he took the bait. “Married women aren’t allowed to join convents. As soon as they saw our marital records, I’d be swiftly booted out.”

“Oh.” Her husband’s shoulders drooped. “Well, I wanted to get your thoughts on something. See if you might be interested.”

“Sure, but can you give me a moment to finish with these? I’m almost done.”

Satoru eyed the bouquet of roses she was assembling. “Anything I can do to help?”

Hannah stopped her pruning and thought for a moment. “Actually, now that you’ve mentioned it….” She leaned over and patted the large rose pot in front of her. “I’d like to move this one up to the house, but it’s too heavy. Think you could lend a girl a hand, Mr. Muscles?”

Satoru issued her a mock salut. “Ma’am, yes ma’am,” and rolled his shoulders, biceps and triceps rippling under his shirt. “Watch and be amazed, kiddos. Mr. Muscles is gonna show you how it’s done.”

Topped with heavy soil and plant, the large clay pot weighed well over a hundred pounds. It would’ve easily taken two average-sized people to lift, but Satoru managed the feat on his own no problem, a testament to how strong he physically was. Hannah had seen him bench press twice his usual body weight with workout equipment. Yet she stayed close behind as he hobbled to the house, awkwardly carrying the pot, for fear he’d throw out his back. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he stationed the container near the stairs leading up to the porch. Hannah nodded. This new spot would do nicely.

“Woo, that was good,” Satoru said, wiping the sweat off his brow and looked up at the sky. “Sun is brutal today.”

Hannah agreed. It had grown considerably hot since lunch. Deciding to take a break from the summer sun, the couple collected the clipped roses and walked back inside the house to the reception hall. There on the center table was a glass pitcher filled with ice water, two cups, two damp towels for each to cool off with, and a vase to put the roses in. Makoto sure was sneaky.

“So,” Hannah said, after finishing her first glass of ice water. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

Satoru ran one of the cool towels over his neck and chin. “Tsumiki and Megumi’s school evaluations came in.”

Hannah poured herself another glass. “And the verdict?”

He put the towel down and smirked. “Take a look for yourself.” She observed him reach inside his back pocket and pull out two opened envelopes. Curious, Hannah walked over and took them from him, re-opening each and laying the contents on the table for a better look.

Japanese primary school evals (from first to sixth grade) were assessed by a three-tiered rank system (1,2,3), with 1 indicating the student “needs effort,” and 3 indicating the student’s grasp on the subject was “satisfactory” or higher. Hannah eyed the two report cards, noting how Tsumiki scored nothing below a 2 (“almost satisfactory”) with Music, Social Studies, and Japanese being her best subjects. Megumi also received high marks. The lowest he scored was a 2 in Music and English, with Mathematics, Science, Sports (and surprisingly enough, Art) all scoring a 3.

Below the subject lines were the behavior evaluations where teachers listed the students' cooperation in class, both towards staff and the other children. Hannah skimmed those parts, but caught the underlined text “gets into fights” on Megumi’s page. Perhaps she would ask about it later, though overall she was pleased by the outcome.

“See, I told Megumi he had nothing to worry about,” she laughed. “He did well, and from the looks of it, so did Tsumiki.”

“Tsumiki’s scores are always good,” Satoru said. “But Megumi? His English scores? I’ve never seen them stay above a 1. It’s the only subject he struggles with on top of socializing. These are his marks now.” He revealed to her two other evaluation cards, placing them next to the newer one on the table. “And these were his marks from December and March.”

Hannah examined the older evaluations. His grades looked relatively the same, except for English, which showed a glaring 1 printed in the center box on each. His new score was 2. Megumi had improved his grade by a full number in the course of a single semester.

“Any chance you had something to do with it?” Satoru added slyly.

Hannah looked up. “I didn’t do much,” she said, shaking her head. “He understood the basics. All he needed was someone to explain them better.”

Butterflies swarmed her stomach as his lips came together, grinning so wide it seemed almost maniacal. “Good, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Hannah blinked at him confused for a moment, but then he explained his reasoning. “I had a meeting with the school board this morning. Jujutsu High, that is.”

“Yes, I remember you telling me. How’d it go?”

He gave her a wink. “The wait is officially over. You, my dear Hannah, are looking at Jujutsu High’s new hire.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “Really? They gave you the teaching job?” Satoru nodded and a beaming smile soon appeared on her face. “Oh Satoru, congratulations. That’s wonderful news. I’m happy for you.”

Her husband bashfully scratched his head. “Thanks. My first day won’t be till next year, so there’s still time, but that’s not all.” He lifted a finger, tapping her lightly on the nose. “The department will also be in search of a new English teacher soon.”

Her smile faltered. “An English teacher?”

“Yeah.” Satoru walked over and situated himself down on one of the cushions, leaning his elbow on the table. “Seems the current one is looking to throw in the towel. To be honest, I don’t know much about him - cause yours truly tested out of English freshman year - but apparently he’s been teaching English since the late Cretaceous or whatever, and during the meeting he asked if we knew anybody interested in filling the role,” he pointed at her, “and I said you.”

“M-Me?” Hannah squeaked.

He nodded. “Yeah, you.”

A couple seconds ticked by, the news of this proposal slowly sinking in.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking.”

“You think I could teach English at Jujutsu High?

“If you wanted to,” he caveated.

“And the school board wouldn’t mind? Spouses working together, I mean.”

“I don’t see the harm.” Satoru shrugged. “It’s not like English and Jujutsu orbit in the same circles.”

“Why would you mention my name, Satoru? I don’t have a uni degree or a teaching certificate.”

“Neither do I,” her quickly husband rebutted. “I never went to university. The only certification I have is a high school diploma.”

“But that’s still more than I have. And my Japanese citizenship hasn’t been finalized. Won’t that hinder things?”

Satoru waved his hand. “Naw, we’ll find our way around that crap. We do it all the time.”

“Then what of the estate? If we’re both busy teaching, who’s going to run it? Makoto can’t juggle the work all by herself.”

“The estate is busy now because I’ve been putting off renovations for years. Once those are completed things’ll start to die down.”

“I have no credentials, Satoru,” Hannah pleaded, hammering the message home. “No references. No formal education. I don’t even know the first thing about preparing lectures or grading papers, and this would be high school level English, not sixth grade. My public speaking skills are rubbish. I’ll make a complete fool of myself in front of everyone.”

“No, you won’t,” Satoru assured, taking her hands. “I’ll be here to help. Plus, you’ll have a year to prepare, and Jujutsu High’s enrollment has been on the decline for decades. The classes shouldn’t exceed more than a handful of students at most.”

“But what if someone else needs the job?” Hannah kept lamenting. “Someone with experience who’s better qualified. I’d be selfishly taking the opportunity away from them.”

“Then that’s their loss,” Satoru tisked, rolling his eyes. “Don't get me wrong, Princess, I admire your compassion - love it even - but we gotta strike while the iron is hot here. Nobody is gonna shame you for being ambitious every once in a while. The reason I’m asking is because I think you’d be right for the job. Give you something to do besides loafing around the house all day making flower arrangements,” he tucked a strand of loose auburn hair behind her ear, his new favorite habit, and tilted her chin up to look at him as his voice grew soft. “Can’t have those good brains go to waste now, hmm?”

Hannah looked away, a flush forming on her cheeks. “Flower arranging isn’t ‘loafing around,’” she pouted, crossing her arms. “I've been outside since dawn.”

She felt Satoru bridge the gap between them, wrapping her in his embrace.

“Look,” he sighed defeatistly in her hair. “Forget I said anything. It’s obvious you're not interested.”

Rather than push him away, Hannah leaned more into him, resting her head comfortably on his chest. She felt so safe there, entranced by the steady rhythm of his heart. “I never said I wasn’t interested,” she mumbled into his cotton tee. “I’m simply questioning how it would work.”

“Oh, it would work,” he chuckled deeply, chest rumbling under her cheek. “I’d make it work.”

“You shouldn’t use your position to land me a job, Satoru. It’ll be seen as corrupt.”

“Hey, there’s gotta be some perks to being me,” he joked. “Not like I’d have to say much. You’re from England, the frickin’ motherland of English. What other credentials would they need?”

“A lot.”

He laughed and undid her braid, combing his fingers through her long shiny hair. She didn’t tell him no because it felt nice. “Just tell me you’ll think about it, okay?” he said. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“But what about — “

“Nope, no more buts.”

“But I — “

“Access denied.”

“Satoru.”

“Satoru is unable to take your call at this time. Please leave a message and he will get back with you after this obnoxiously long beep. Beeeeeeeeeee…. ”

Hannah slumped and let out the smallest exhale, thus giving up the fight. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

He paused mid-beep.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Yay!” He hugged her closer, lifting her off the ground and swaying back and forth. “Knew you wouldn’t let me down, Princess. I knew it, knew it, knew it.”

Hannah couldn’t help but smile. Cheek smothered against him, he placed her back on the ground, allowing her to tilt her head up.

The Six Eyes were like twin spheres of blue abalone, shining down at her. She could see every shade and tint; turquoise, chalcedony, larimar, the sky and sea. How she adored looking at his eyes. They were none of this world. Magnetized, she found herself standing on her tippy toes, lips soft and pliant, wanting to be nearer. Words needn’t be exchanged. Satoru got the message and lowered his hands to her hips. Gravity became weightless as he propelled her upwards again, bringing their mouths together, her body melting into his sweet kiss.

It was good they had these moments to fall back on because the next few days would not be as kind. This was but the calm before the storm.

Rougher waters lay ahead.

Chapter Contents

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #Satoru x fem oc #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x oc #Satoru Gojo x female oc #arranged marriage #fanfiction #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #romance

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