Bokuto Koutarou - I'm Your Baby, Right?

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AU: Magic

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AU: Magic

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN Reader, Witches/Wizards (and so on) are not gendered terms they are descriptors of specific magic practice, also the reader gets called 'mama' but it really doesn't have anything to do with their gender.

Word Count: 5.5+

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Your hands worked gently into the shoulders of the older woman as she slowly knocked back a steaming cup of tea. The dainty container was painted with intricate yellow patterns along the edge but was hidden by the woman's swollen fingers. Similarly, her feet were lifted on a footrest as she waited for the swelling to go down.

A fluttery breath escaped her as you lifted your hands off the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. "You're an angel, (L/N). This tea is lovely." Taking a hand off the cup, the older woman rubbed her swollen belly with gentle strokes, shifting the silk fabric with every swipe.

"I'm not an angel, Mrs. Hooper. But thank you." You reach for your supplies, placing the dried herbs and flower petals back into their respective jars before dropping them into your satchel.

"Oh pshh, you are nothing short of magic."

Swinging the leather bag onto your shoulder, you smiled at the pregnant woman. "I wouldn't be a witch without magic, now would I?" You padded your matching leather shoes toward the house's main entrance, eager to get out of the pristine home filled with golden antiques that you could never dream of having in your little cottage. "Tell your husband to walk over with the money when he gets home, you need to stay sitting or you'll pop!"

Mrs. Hooper let out a light laugh while waving you out from her reclined seat in the middle of the main room. The beautifully carved door closed behind you gently behind you as you walked down the concrete stairs to the main road. People rushed past you quickly, eager to get onto the train cart before it rolled it's way to another part of town, apologizing as they knocked you into the fancy home's metal stair rail.

Heading in the opposite direction of the pedestrian traffic, you took calm steady steps toward the town's south edge where the houses gradually became smaller before hitting a grassy field followed by a wall of tall pine trees. The town was filled with ringing bells and stomping feet as people ran to their jobs.

At the edge of the town's centre, the concrete roads turned to stone paths and houses became sparse. Looking across the grassy field, past the scurrying children that dirtied their clothes with pesky grass stains and dirt, you saw your little house peeking out behind the first row of trees, surrounded by wild flora.

The kids and their parents waved to you as you walked past.

The wooden door creaked in agony as you pushed it open, croaking again as it swung shut. You kicked off your shoes, leaving them by the door as you stepped toward your kitchen table. A raspy purr emitted from the previously empty flower basket on the table, vibrating like an old man puffing out his last breath of cigar smoke. You peaked your head over the woven basket rim.

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