#[kind of disconcerting because i thought everything was over and good]

[vigil4nted]

so uhh does anyone want to let me know if there's rumors being spread about me??? getting the feeling someone's doing that again bc i'm seeing a wave of blogs i have never interacted with hardblocking me.

i'd be more than happy to clear up any misgivings about me because i am really really tired of certain people trying to spread stuff behind my back that has no basis and is provably false.

so if you hear anything i'd really appreciate if it could be brought to me?

[noira-l]

𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

chapter summary: The onsen's heat melt away your coldness, while the festival's treats sweetened your heart. But it was Satoru, with his fiery passion and childlike joy, who truly made you feel alive again.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

wc: 16,4k

warnings: MDNI, smut with plot, so much tension, establishing relationship (?) public intimacy (onsen), summer festival motives (traditional clothing, games and foood), lovemaking, dry humbing, p in v, oral/fingering (f reciving), unprotected sex, creampie, intense at the end, dirty talk, teasing, namecalling (sweetie, wifey etc.), dacryphilia, tooth rotting fluff, soft, spicy and touch starved Satoru.

author's note: oh dear, that loooong, but we are finally here. I couldn't finished this chapter in a month, it was eating me alive. I'm a virgin when it comes to writting smut scenes, so please be gentle. Hope you enjoy it in the end, your pulse will quicken and your heart will sugar coat ;3

s.masterlist

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 '𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭'

"Mr and Mrs Gojo, we are pleased to welcome you to our establishment, we wish you a pleasant stay." the woman at the front desk beamed, her smile broad and a little too wide as she handed over your wristbands. Her eyes darted nervously to Satoru, who stood next to you, his presence undeniably commanding the room. Naturally, a faint blush crept onto her cheeks.

You felt a familiar weight as his hand settled on your waist, possessive yet gentle.

"Thank you." Satoru replied, his voice filled with that infectious enthusiasm "My wife and I are looking forward to a time full of relaxation!" his tone was warm, but it carried that undercurrent of determination, the kind that always made you wonder just how seriously he took even the most mundane things.

You couldn’t help but notice the effect he had on the staff around you. There was a collective intake of breath, and you watched as the women at the reception seemed to hold it, eyes wide and dreamy. It was, frankly, a bit embarrassing. You’d seen this reaction countless times, but it didn’t make it any less disconcerting when it happened right in front of you.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like when he actually started using the spa. The baths, the onsen… you winced internally at the thought. You already regretted booking the full package. Satoru was a magnet for attention- talkative, charming, and with looks that could make anyone pause. What had seemed like an idyllic, relaxing retreat was starting to feel like an exercise in patience.

It had all sounded so good when you read about it: relaxing massages, body treatments, the tranquil atmosphere. And part of you was still excited; you'd been waiting for this for what felt like forever. But now, seeing the ladies at the front desk practically swooning at the sight of him was… well, let's just say it was a little annoying.

The location itself was well decorated. You walked away from the reception area for a moment, as Satoru started talking to another staff person. It was quite a distance away from the village where you had an accommodation, but it was close enough to the surprise you wanted to take him to in the evening. You could see that everything was well-maintained and quite fresh, as if a renovation had taken place here not long ago. Ceremonial ornaments adorned the walls, trimmed bonsai trees stood as miniature sentinels in each corner, and the view from the wide windows was breathtaking, the landscape rolling out in serene waves of green and stone. You could feel a sense of calm settling over you despite your earlier irritation.

There weren't many visitors at this time of day. You guessed that was partly because you'd arrived in the afternoon, and partly because most guests were likely preparing for the evening's festivities. Your gaze wandered to a lacquered painting on the wall, depicting a serene scene of a man and woman submerged in water, their backs turned to each other. The art was surprisingly well-preserved, capturing the beauty and tranquility of the surrounding area.

"Ready?" you felt a hand embrace you from behind. You nodded your head.

"Do you know where to go and what to do?" your gaze fell on his eyes, he threw a towel over his shoulder.

You'll probably never get used to the shifting shades of blue that swirl in his sparkling eyes.

"I asked the staff about a few things." he said in a melodic voice. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder.

"Good, I'll meet you after the treatments and when you've finished bathing, if you'd be early, then don't leave without me, I'll wait for you here." he gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up, his signature grin spreading across his face.

"Have fun." he added before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the entrance to the men's changing room, a dark blue curtain swaying gently as he slipped behind it.

You watched him go, a mixture of exasperation and affection welling up inside you. With a small sigh, you turned on your heel and made your way to the women’s section, pushing aside a curtain as red as the blush still warming your cheeks.

----

Oh yes.

That's what you needed.

You don't remember when you felt so relaxed. You felt your whole body eased and your head pleasantly calmed. Your aching hip and shoulder blade, which had suffered an injury after your last mission, finally experienced proper treatment. A complex of massages prepared your body, while scrubs and regenerating masks gave your complexion a healthy glow. You liked to take care of yourself. As you rose from your seat, finishing your last massage with some special stones, you heard a quiet whisper from behind the curtain.

"Have you seen the white-haired guy?" this question set your ears ringing.

"Yes, handsome and charming." the giggle of the other voice was terribly loud.

"But apparently he's married."

Your feet found the ground, yet you remained still, your ears attuned to their every word, each syllable a slow drip of poison.

"Ah, what a shame, wasting on such an uncute woman." Pity, right? you furrowed your brow at this comment, sudden breath catching.

The words struck like a blade, your breath stuttering in your chest, a flare of heat rushing to your face.

"But are you sure? He didn't have a ring." Your fingers curled into fists, nails biting into your palms, the silk of the robe whispering against your skin as you fought the urge to rip through the curtain.

"Yes, at the desk, he said the woman next to him was his wife." the tone had shifted, dripping now with mockery, each word a taunt that twisted the knife deeper.

"But you know what they say, no ring no problem."

You opened the paper door to your cubicle, not wanting to wait for the next treatment or hear what these old maids had to say.

Out in the corridor, the air was cooler, less stifling, yet it did nothing to quell the fire simmering just beneath your skin. The air thick with the lingering scent of oils and herbs. Each word you had overheard replayed in your mind, an echo that rattled in the silence around you. The pity, the mockery, the casual cruelty of their voices scraped against your thoughts like nails on glass.

Uncute woman. The phrase curled around your mind like a serpent, squeezing until it left marks that stung with each breath.

You didn't want to spoil your mood, even though it had somehow gotten under your skin anyway. You just hope that the hot water will wash it out of you.

The wooden floor creaked under your step. The colours of the glass slowly changed, revealing the sunset outside. After pulling back the white curtain at the end of the corridor, you were shown one of the most stunning views.

The hot spring lay before you, a hidden oasis cradled by the forest. It was framed by rugged stones and ancient trees, their branches bowing gently as if in reverence to the sacred waters. A traditional torii gate loomed at the edge, draped with sacred Shinto ropes and tassels that whispered secrets to the evening breeze. In the background, rocks and trees wove into the scene, and just beyond, a small wooden temple stood, its silhouette blurred by the rising mist. Lanterns glowed in the encroaching twilight, casting a warm, flickering light upon the surface of the water, illuminating the steam that curled into the air like ghostly tendrils. It was a scene of tranquility, an invitation to forget, to cleanse.

The overall scene set you in relaxation and some sort of spiritual cleansing.

You let your towel slip from your grasp, draping it on the cabinet before stepping into the milky water. It lapped against your ankles first, sending tendrils of heat spiraling up your legs. Slowly, you eased further in, each step a deliberate act of immersion, the water climbing higher, coaxing the tension from your muscles with each passing second.

Finally, you lowered yourself until the water barely kissed the tops of your breasts. You spotted a small wooden bucket resting on one of the stones nearby and reached for it, the wood warm against your fingers. You poured the water over your hair, again and again, the heat cascading down your shoulders, soothing the raw edges of your thoughts. It was a ritual, a cleansing, and as the water soaked into your skin, you felt the weight of the day begin to dissolve, leaving behind a languid heaviness that settled deep into your bones. Now, you felt it, how heavy and warm were your muscles.

But then, you felt it—a presence. It pressed against the edges of your awareness, a shift in the air that made you alarmed. You turned, the water rippling around you, and your eyes met his.

"What are you doing here?" your voice was pretty quiet. It didn't need to be louder since you were surrounded by silence or a quiet hum.

Satoru stood there, half-shrouded in shadows at the entrance to the water, his form outlined by the soft glow of the lanterns. A towel hung low around his hips, and a flush painted his cheeks, stark against the usually pale skin. His gaze was fixed on you, wide and unblinking, as if he had stumbled upon something he wasn’t meant to see. He blinked once, then twice, before his eyes finally rose to meet yours.

You glanced down and covered yourself from him with your hands, doing this surprisingly slowly.

"It's konyoku." he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as his eyes flickered downward again, tracing the path of water droplets as they trailed down your skin.

"What?" now you were beginning to blush from the weight of his gaze on you. You felt warmth spread across your cheeks, an echo of the blush that colored his face.

His eyes moved with agonizing slowness, drinking in the sight of every glistening drop on your skin. A different kind of heat simmered in the water now, not from the spring, but from the way he looked at you. You were hot, but not just from the water - you could feel the fire in the way his eyes devoured you.

"Konyoku, a mixed bath." you were sure his voice cracked slightly.

Realisation has struck you, hard.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't know. I thought that since the spa was divided into sections, it would be the same with the onsen." shame twisted in your chest, tightening around your ribs, and you averted your eyes, feeling the heat of embarrassment mingle with the warmth of the spring. You felt that you were making everything awkward right now by missing such an important detail.

"Calm down, I don't mind." his voice was low, soothing, as if trying to ease the tension that thrummed in the air between you. A smile flickered across his lips, a familiar, comforting expression that quickly faded when he noticed how much you were trying to cover yourself.

He took a step forward, his hand reaching out toward the towel hanging loosely around his waist. You turned your back to him instantly, instinctively, giving him the privacy you assumed he wanted. The movement sent ripples across the water, the sound echoing softly in the silence.

You felt the water move more and more as he approached you step by step.

"Are you ashamed of your spouse?" his voice came from right behind you, dripping with that familiar arrogance that always seemed to unsettle you in ways you couldn't quite explain. You felt the heat of his breath against your ear, and a shiver raced down your spine despite the warmth enveloping you "I thought you didn't mind seeing me after so long." his tone was teasing, but it was the way he said it, the dark edge to his voice, that made your cheeks flush not in pink, but crimson.

"Your view doesn't bother me." you replied, although your voice was not laced with confidence.

"Then why are you looking away?" his voice dropped, a whisper that sent a jolt of electricity through you, your breath hitching involuntarily. You could feel the shivers dancing over your skin, and you clenched your hands tighter, trying not to let him see how much his proximity affected you.

"I'm not used to seeing you like this."

"Like what? After all, I sleep in just my underwear many times." his breath ghosted over your neck, the moisture on your skin amplifying every sensation. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on remaining calm.

"But you're naked now."

"And so are you." his hands found your hips, his touch gentle but firm, fingers pressing into your skin as if he wanted to feel every inch of you. He pulled you closer, and you felt it- him -pressing against your lower back. A gasp escaped your lips, your mind spinning.

What is he doing? He had never been this bold before.

You felt his lips graze the back of your neck, a featherlight touch that ignited sparks along every nerve. His mouth moved with an agonizing slowness, gliding over your most sensitive spots, while you struggled to keep your hands steady, to stop them from reaching out and pulling him even closer.

"I've changed you into your pyjamas many times.." he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your ear "When you came back from missions, battered or when you fell asleep on the sofa." his hands parted in two different directions, easing you. One hand finding its place on your thigh, stroking around the inside of it, the other gently cupped your breast, gliding small circles with his thumb over the hardened nipple. Warm hands made you feel pliant under their touch "I know your body." his nose nuzzled against your neck, his breath warm and heavy, sending shivers cascading down your spine.

"Doesn't change the fact that it turns me the hell on." his words were a low growl in your ear, just before his teeth grazed your earlobe, sending a shockwave through you. You couldn't hold back the moan that slipped from your lips, and you couldn't stop pressing your body back against his, feeling his hardness against you, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

He tightened his grip around you, his hips pressing closer, moving in a rhythm that made your head spin. The friction between your legs pulsed with every subtle movement, and your skin felt like it was on fire, molten under his touch. His hand slid from your thigh to your chin, tilting your head back. When you looked up, his eyes were on you, half-lidded, burning with hunger. It was like staring into a blue inferno, his gaze devouring you whole. His hair was damp, sticking to his temples, his cheeks flushed, his lips slightly parted as he breathed heavily. The sight of him, so undone, sent another wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You bit your lip glancing up at him.

The world around you faded, the fact that you were in a public space evaporating from your mind. There was only him, the way he looked at you, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he leaned in. The pounding in your ears matched the rhythm of the pulse between your thighs, and you felt the last thread of restraint slipping away.

He leaned in, his lips hovering over yours, so close you could feel his breath mingling with yours, warm and sweet. You parted your lips, waiting, wanting -

A sudden, violent splash shattered the moment, the water surging against your bodies. You both turned your heads, alarm breaking through the fog of desire. The water was roiling with movement, a hand breaking the surface, followed by a head gasping for air. Instinct took over as you pulled away from Satoru, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

Without thinking, you rushed toward the figure struggling in the water, hands slicing through the hot spring as you fought your way through the resistance.

"I'm coming! Please hold!" you grabbed a hand sticking out of the water and pulled hard, fishing out a very old gentleman who was coughing and gasping for air.

"Are you alright, Sir?" you asked looking at his face seeking confirmation. "Please be more careful, there is no barrier here and it is easy to slip." your tone was gentle yet firm, a blend of concern and reprimand.

"I'm totally alright. I apologise for myself." he croaked out, his voice thin and rasping as he tried to catch his breath. He offered a weak smile, his eyes clouded with age yet warm "I came here because it's my late wife's birthday today." he murmured, a toothless grin spreading across his face "I wanted to remember…" he caught his breath unevenly "…to remember…. of her favourite place…" his voice wavered, breaking on the last word. You guided him to one of the stones by the shore, seating him carefully as you submerged yourself in the water again, trying to offer him and yourself some dignity.

"This place has always looked like this… and my dear Suki…. loved to sit here…" he continued, his voice now more of a murmur, eyes distant. He began to recount his memories, fragments of a life filled with love and loss, perhaps as a way of thanking you for saving his. You listened, your attempts to excuse yourself gently rebuffed or entirely ignored. Every time you tried to retreat back to Satoru, the old man would draw you back in, his stories weaving a net of nostalgia that held you in place.

You glanced over at Satoru, a silent plea in your eyes. He was sitting on a stone, arms crossed, a scowl etched into his face. His eyes were dark, drilling into the old man as if sheer willpower could make him disappear. He didn't even try to mask his annoyance. You gave him a helpless smile, one that said - 'please, do something.'

He didn’t move. You could see the irritation rolling off him in waves.

Gojo was not happy that he was getting the biggest cockblock, from a guy who can't even walk. On the other hand, he was full of admiration for your nature and how ingrained you are in helping others. That's one of the qualities he really admires about you. Even if it means running to help someone, naked.

Finally, after what felt like ages, you managed to extricate yourself from the old man's grasp. With a quick apology, you slipped away, ignoring his attempts to pull you back into conversation. You swam over to Satoru, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off the elderly man. His scowl deepened, his jaw clenched as you approached. He looked like an angry kitten.

"Did he at least thank you?" Satoru's voice was low, edged with irritation that he didn’t bother to hide.

You sighed "No, but he did apologise for himself." you sat down next to him, on the rock below, water now reaching your neck. You leaned back, resting your head against the rough surface of the rock. A wry smile tugged at your lips. "I guess that counts as a thank you."

Satoru glanced away, his eyes shifting to one of the lanterns flickering in the deepening dusk. He was avoiding your gaze, staring off into the distance with a tight expression. The silence between you was thick, the weight of unspoken words pressing down like a heavy fog. It got quite dark and the light from the lantern became more visible. You opened your mouth to say something.

"About earlier- " you began, but were interrupted by.

"Nah, it's nothing. I just got carried away…" tone casual, too casual. He turned his head even more you to not face you. "Don't think about it too much, okey?" his tone sounded normal, but he still didn't look at you.

You felt a sharp pang in your chest, an ache that spread like a crack through a fragile surface. You could literally hear it. Not enough to shatter, but enough to leave a clear mark.

He just got a little carried away, huh?

So much for that. Just a moment of oblivion. Nothing more.

"I just shouldn't have... sorry." he dropped his arms to his sides, his body language mirroring the sudden distance between you

"That's okay." you forced a smile, the kind that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Nothing happened, right?" the phrase stung on your tongue, echoing words from the past, reopening wounds that had never fully healed. Your 5th anniversary. You chuckled bitterly, the sound hollow in the dim light.

Long moment pases.

He shifted uncomfortably beside you, his eyes darting around for an escape from the unbearable tension.

"How did you like the spa?" oh, this conversation is going to be awkward. You can see that he wanted to change the subject quickly and drop something that you both could loosely chat about.

"Oh… em…" you gathered your scattered thoughts, grasping for something to say "The treatments were nice, especially the peelings. The massages also helped a lot on my muscles and bones. And this place…" Your eyes flicked to his jawline, the water droplets clinging to his skin. "It’s relaxing."

"How about you?" you smiled, trying to keep the conversation going to avoid the awkwardness and painful thoughts that were simmering in your head.

Bitter, sore are your thoughts.

He sighed, his gaze fixed on the rippling water before him.

just got carried away just got carried away just got carried away

The words looped in your mind, each repetition a fresh sting.

"I liked everything." he admitted quietly and smiled a little "Mushiburo was kinda cool. So were the facial treatments and that deep tissue massage." he rested his cheek against his palm and his hand against the stone beside "I'm surprised you got everything so right for my preferences." you raised an eyebrow, managing a small, humorless smile.

"What is so surprising about this? I've known you for years, besides, you often steal my sheet masks." you giggled akwardly. Sometimes you'd purposely buy ones with nice scents, or with cute patterns on the material.

He chuckled, a faint smile breaking through his sullen demeanor.

"It's not my fault that they produce such good cosmetics. And with you, my pores keep opening up." you nudged his side playfully, and for a moment, the mood lightened, his usual toothy grin returning. Conversation immediately became lighter.

"And I still have to use earplugs to sleep." you teased, the mock irritation in your voice genuine enough to draw a laugh from him.

"You said you got rid of them years ago! Did you lie to me?" he gasped in mock horror, dramaticly raised his voice a little.

You shrugged, a wry smile on your lips "No, you just stopped talking in your sleep."

For a moment, laughter filled the space where tension had been. Yet, even as you shared that fleeting levity, you couldn't shake the shadow lingering in the back of your mind, the weight of the moment that had almost been, and the hollow ache of what it had meant to you compared to what it seemed to mean to him.

----

The two of you walked side by side down the dimly lit corridor, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and cedar. Your fingers brushed against each other briefly before you pulled your hand away, shoving it awkwardly into the pocket of your robe. Satoru didn’t seem to notice - or maybe he did, but he made no move to close the space between you.

The reception area came into view, its soft glow inviting but distant. You could see the receptionist standing behind the counter, busying herself with some paperwork, her eyes flicking up occasionally to check the room. As you and Satoru approached, the sounds of hushed voices and the distant hum of soft music greeted you, a stark contrast to the stillness of the onsen.

"Thank you for your visit." the receptionist greeted with a warm smile as you reached the desk. Her eyes shifted between you and Satoru, lingering for a moment on the tension that seemed to hang between you like a veil "I hope we provided an execptional service, you enjoyed your time here."

Satoru nodded, his face a mask of politeness. "Yes, it was... relaxing." his tone was measured, the usual playful lilt absent. Her smile never faltering, as both od you were giving her towels and accesiories.

"I’m glad to hear that. Would you like to schedule another appointment in the future?" her gaze shifted to you, expectant.

You hesitated, glancing at Satoru out of the corner of your eye. He was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable. "I think we'll have to see about that." you replied, offering a polite but noncommittal smile "It was a lovely experience, though."

Satoru cleared his throat "Yeah, we'll see. Thanks for everything." He gave the receptionist a curt nod, already turning toward the exit.

"You're very welcome." the receptionist said, her smile remaining as she escorted Satoru to the exit with her shining eyes. She glanced back down at her paperwork, as soon as he leaves.

You followed him toward the door, feeling the weight of everything that had happened - and everything that hadn’t - settle onto your shoulders. The cool air hit you as you stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the warm, cocooning atmosphere of the spa. A very late evening greeted you with its light. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging clothes, tighter as you walked silently toward the small, barly lighten path.

Satoru walked ahead, his hands shoved into the pockets. His eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw something there, a flicker of emotion, maybe regret or confusion. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that casual mask he wore so well.

"So..." he started, his voice almost too casual "that was… an interesting expierience."

You let out a short laugh, the sound brittle and devoid of humor. "Interesting. Yeah, that’s one word for it."

You walked down a stone staircase down a small mountain, the forest that surrounded you seemed to grow brighter with every step you took.

He shifted his weight, looking down at the ground. "Look." he said after a pause "I don’t want things to be weird between us."

Your heart twisted.

Too late for that, you thought, but bit back the words.

Instead, you took a deep breath and forced a smile. "It doesn't have to be weird." you replied, though even you could hear the strain in your voice. "We’re adults. We can just... move on, right?"

You didn't want to spoil the mood for the rest of the trip.

You still had something grand in store for him, a surprise that should have been the highlight of his day. He deserved to enjoy it, to lose himself in the moment, and not be tethered by the cloud of your mood. You knew how to rein it in, knew your limits. This wasn’t the first time you'd found yourself in the midst of such a tangled situation, and you told yourself things would fall back into their familiar rhythm soon enough. They always did. Or at least, they were supposed to.

The real conversation, the one that weighed heavy on your mind, could wait. It had to wait. This was your one escape, your only holiday together, a time meant for joy and laughter, not for words that could splinter the fragile peace you'd managed to grasp. So you pushed it down, buried it deep, determined to leave it untouched until later. Not now. Not when you both should be basking in the moments that you had left.

He nodded, though his expression didn’t change "Right. Move on." he repeated the words, but they sounded hollow, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

A silence settled between you, awkward and heavy. You shifted on your feet, glancing around the stones, searching for anything to fill the void that had opened up.

"So, what now?" he asked, the question hanging in the air between you.

You glanced away "Well, we still have time." you admitted "Maybe we should just… go along the plan. We can already approach one place and get ready."

He ran a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah. Rest sounds good."

You were just a step away from the car when Satoru came to a halt. You paused beside him, the air thick with everything unsaid.

"You know." he began, his voice low, his gaze fixed somewhere in the darkness ahead "It’s okay to... talk about things, if you need to."

A tightness gripped your throat, choking off the words that clamored to escape. They lodged there, a heavy, unspoken weight. "I know." you whispered, barely managing the words. "But... maybe not now. Not tonight."

He inclined his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Not tonight." he echoed, the words hanging between you like a fragile thread.

He turned his eyes to you then, seeking, searching for something in your expression - some reassurance, some bridge across the chasm that had opened between you. But you didn’t have it to give. Not now.

So you forced a smile, a faint, fragile curve of your lips. It wasn’t much, a mere shadow of what you used to share, but it was all you could muster in that moment. And maybe, just maybe, it was enough for now.

----

Satoru stood in the dimly lit guest room, the scent of incense and freshly laundered fabric lingering in the air. The room was small but welcoming, its walls adorned with intricate patterns that spoke of the village's traditions. He glanced around, eyes catching on the various spools of thread and bolts of fabric neatly arranged in the corner - evidence of the woman’s craft. She was a tailor, and judging by the way the room seemed to hum with her skill, not just any tailor but one with years of experience and a touch for detail.

The elderly woman, now in her twilight years, had greeted him with a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She had disappeared into another room and returned with the yukata draped over her arm, a beautiful navy blue garment adorned with delicate white clouds that cascaded into a soft gradient near the hem. The fabric shimmered faintly in the candlelight, each thread carefully woven to form an elegant, almost ethereal piece.

Satoru stared at it, his breath catching for a moment. There was something mesmerizing about the simplicity and grace of the design. The woman approached him, gesturing for him to take off his robe. He hesitated briefly, then complied, handing her his worn spa robe. She handed him the robes with a gentle nod.

As he held the garment, it felt impossibly light in his hands, the fabric soft and cool against his skin. He slipped his arms into the sleeves, feeling the smoothness glide over his skin. The elderly woman moved closer, her hands deftly adjusting the fabric over his shoulders. He let her work, dressing him layer by layer, standing still as she fastened the material around his waist, her movements practiced and precise.

Satoru glanced down at himself as she tied the obi, a dark navy sash that matched the garment perfectly. It cinched his waist securely, but not uncomfortably so, creating a sleek silhouette that felt almost regal. The yukata fell to his ankles, the hem brushing lightly against his skin with each breath. He turned slightly, catching his reflection in a small, polished bronze mirror hanging on the wall. The sight took him by surprise.

It fit perfectly. The yukata hugged his frame in all the right places, the sleeves hanging just so, the length tailored to his height with almost eerie precision. It was as if it had been made specifically for him, down to the smallest detail. He turned again, the fabric flowing with him like a second skin. It looked more beautiful than his clan robes.

He glanced at the woman, who watched him with a satisfied smile. "It suits you,." she said in a voice roughened by age but filled with pride. Her eyes gleamed with a knowledge that made him pause.

He wondered then, how much of this had been orchestrated by you. How quickly you must have moved to arrange this, to involve the village tailor, to ensure everything was perfect down to the last stitch. The realization sent a chill down his spine, not of fear, but of awe. How meticulous, how precise you were. It was both astounding and, in some quiet way, frightening.

But Satoru liked a scery women.

He chuckled to himself.

Gojo shifted his gaze back to the mirror, his lips curving into a faint smile. He could picture you now, working behind the scenes, your mind a whirl of details and plans. You had always been that way -considerate to the point of obsession, ensuring that everything was seamless, that every experience was as perfect as it could be. It was something he admired about you, even if it unsettled him at times.

He let out a soft breath, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in the garment once more. This was so like you. To think of everything, even the smallest details, to make him feel… special. Seen.

The elderly woman stepped back, her work finished. She bowed her head slightly, a gesture of both respect and completion. "You wear it well, your wife sure has taste." she murmured, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"Thank you." Satoru said, his voice softened, almost reverent. His fingers brushed over the fabric, feeling the texture under his fingertips. It was more than just a piece of clothing - it was a piece of you, a glimpse into the lengths you would go to for him.

He turned toward the door, ready to step out and show you. As he moved, the yukata flowed around him, its fit and design a testament to the care that had been put into it. And as he opened the door, a thought lingered in his mind, warm and unsettling: How well you knew him, how easily you could shape the world around him without him even realizing it until he was standing there, wrapped in it. He smiled again, this time a little wider, though the unease remained at the edges.

For now, though, he let it slip away. Tonight was meant for you and him, and the thought of seeing your face when you saw him like this… that was worth setting aside every other concern.

Satoru stood outside the small house, the evening air cool against his skin. He let out a slow breath, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the village lights began to flicker on, painting the landscape in hues of dark purple and pink. In the distance, the colored lanterns swayed gently, strung up between trees and around the central square, casting a soft, inviting glow. It was mesmerizing, the way they shimmered in the dusk, a quiet prelude to something that felt almost magical. He wondered if this was it, if this was the surprise you had meticulously crafted for him. The thought made his chest tighten with a mix of anticipation and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name.

He glanced down at himself, smoothing his hand over the navy blue fabric of his yukata, tracing the gradient of clouds that faded into the darkness near his feet. It felt different on him, not just because of the craftsmanship, but because of what it represented- a piece of you, woven into every thread. He took another deep breath, trying to steady the fluttering in his stomach. How long had it been since he felt this way? Nervous, excited, all at once.

The door behind him creaked softly, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned, eyes widening as they fell on you. For a moment, the world seemed to still.

You stood framed in the doorway, a vision of grace and elegance. The yukata you wore was a delicate pink, adorned with painted mountains and flowers that spread across the fabric like a whispered dream. Higher up, sakura petals floated as if caught in an invisible breeze, dancing toward your shoulders, adding an air of ethereal beauty to your silhouette. In your hand, you clutched a small handbag, its design mirroring the motif of your attire. Your hair had been styled with care, adorned with floral decorations that sparkled faintly with small beads, catching the light with every movement.

Satoru felt his breath hitch. For a heartbeat, he forgot where he was, lost in the sight of you. It was as if the world had been painted around you, a living canvas that paled in comparison to the figure stepping toward him. The quiet confidence in your steps, the way the fabric of your yukata moved with you, it took everything in him not to reach out, to pull you close and keep you there, a part of this moment forever.

You approached him, the soft rustle of your garments the only sound in the stillness of the evening. As you drew nearer, he could see the faint smile on your lips, the way your eyes gleamed under the lanterns' glow. You stopped just in front of him, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to hum with unspoken words.

He swallowed, searching for something to say, anything that could capture what he felt.

"You look..." his voice trailed off, the words faltering on his tongue. Perfect. Stunning. Ethereal. None of it seemed adequate. He chuckled, a nervous sound that surprised even him "You look beautiful." he finally managed, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.

Your smile widened, a soft blush coloring your cheeks, and for a moment, he could see it, everything you had put into this, the care, the thought, the effort to create something that would make him feel... special.

It made his chest ache.

"Thank you." you replied, your voice soft, almost shy, a contrast to the confidence in your appearance "I see they found something that fits you perfectly." your eyes roamed over his yukata, taking in the way it hugged his frame "I was a bit worried about the measurements."

He glanced down at himself, then back at you, a grin tugging at his lips.

"I have to admit, it feels like it was made just for me. You really went all out, didn’t you?" there was a teasing lilt to his voice, but behind it, there was something else, an awe, a gratitude that he wasn’t sure how to express.

"Maybe I did. You deserve it, sometimes." you shrugged lightly, a playful glimmer in your eyes.

You reached out then, your fingers brushing against his sleeve, adjusting a small crease in the fabric. It was such a simple gesture, but it sent a warmth spreading through him, settling somewhere deep in his chest.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the air between you charged with a quiet intensity. Satoru let his gaze drift back to the horizon, where the lights continued to dance in the distance.

"Is that where we’re headed?" he asked, nodding toward the colorful glow.

You followed his gaze, a secretive smile playing on your lips.

"Yes." you said, turning back to him. "But it's more than just the lights. It’s... everything. I wanted tonight to be special."

He felt his heart skip a beat at your words, the sincerity behind them. You had always had a way of turning the simplest moments into something extraordinary. It was one of the things that drew him to you, that kept him tethered to this feeling, even when everything else felt uncertain.

"Lead the way." he said, offering his arm to you. You hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it, your hand slipping into the crook of his elbow. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it was enough to send a thrill through him, a silent promise of what the night held.

As you walked together toward the lights, the village around you seemed to come alive, lanterns flickering to life one by one, guiding your path. Satoru couldn’t help but glance at you from the corner of his eye, the soft smile that graced your lips as you looked ahead. He wondered how he had managed to deserve this, to deserve you. And as the cool evening breeze brushed against his skin, he found himself hoping, wishing, that this moment could stretch on just a little longer.

And it didn't even started.

In the back of his mind, that familiar unease stirred, a whisper of fear at how much you could move him, how deeply you had woven yourself into his world. But for now, he let it be.

Tonight was yours, a carefully crafted world of color and warmth, and he wanted to lose himself in it, if only for a while.

----

As you walked together down the lantern-lit path, the air grew sweeter, carrying with it hints of caramel, fruit, and sugar. The colors ahead became more vivid, the soft glow of lanterns giving way to brighter lights that adorned the festival grounds. When you reached the entrance, Satoru came to a sudden halt. His eyes went wide as he read the banner hanging above the gate, the words written in an elegant script illuminated by string lights.

Regional Candy Festival

Satoru blinked, processing what he was seeing. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in the scene before him, the entrance gate decorated with multicolored paper lanterns and ribbons that fluttered gently in the evening breeze. His eyes flicked to you, a mixture of surprise and wonder playing across his face.

"You... brought me to a sweets festival?" he asked, almost in disbelief. He had a soft spot for sweets, you knew it, you spoiled him with them.

You stepped in front of him, a grin tugging at your lips. "Yep. It happens once a year, and it's a big deal for the locals. They prepare for months, bringing together candy makers from all over the region. It's more than just sweets, it's a celebration of tradition and community."

He murmured something under his breath, his eyes flicking back to the festival grounds, where the lights twinkled invitingly. You watched as a faint blush crept up his cheeks. There was a boyish excitement in his eyes that he tried to suppress, but it was impossible to miss. His gaze darted back to you, still in a state of half-disbelief.

"Come on." you said, not giving him a chance to linger in his thoughts. You grabbed his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. He tensed for a fraction of a second before letting you pull him forward, his longer strides quickly matching your pace as you led him through the gate and into the heart of the festival.

The grounds opened up before you, a sprawling array of stalls lined up along winding paths, each one bursting with color and life. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional clink of glass jars being opened and closed. Rows of booths were adorned with streamers, paper flowers, and hanging lights that bathed everything in a warm, inviting glow.

The festival grounds were bustling with life, a vibrant tapestry of people woven together by the allure of sweets and the warmth of community. Everywhere you looked, there were clusters of families with children darting around, their laughter ringing out like music against the hum of the crowd. Parents called out to their little ones, balancing bags of candy and festival toys as they tried to keep up. Children with sticky hands clutched cotton candy or candied apples, their faces smeared with sugar and joy.

The stalls themselves were a feast for the eyes. Wooden tables were piled high with every kind of confection imaginable. Glass jars held rainbow-colored rock candy, shaped like precious gemstones that glittered under the lantern light. Trays were filled with handcrafted mochi, their surfaces dusted with delicate powders of matcha, strawberry, and kinako. You pointed to a booth displaying intricately molded sugar sculptures, delicate flowers and animals crafted with such precision they looked almost too beautiful to eat.

Couples strolled hand in hand, their expressions softened by the lantern light and the shared experience of this magical evening. They lingered at stalls, heads bent close together as they sampled sweets and whispered in each other’s ears. Some took turns trying their luck at the game booths, while others simply wandered, soaking in the sights and sounds. You watched as one couple fed each other small bites of mochi, laughing when powdered sugar dusted their noses. Another pair stood near the goldfish scooping game, the woman holding her breath as her partner carefully scooped up a tiny fish, cheering when he finally succeeded.

The festival was a haven for both locals and visitors alike. Groups of tourists mingled among the crowd, their eyes wide with delight as they explored the rich tapestry of traditions laid out before them. They snapped pictures of the stalls, the lanterns, and the intricately crafted confections. Some had even donned yukatas provided by the villagers, their vibrant fabrics blending seamlessly into the colorful scene. You could hear the mix of languages and accents, adding an extra layer to the festival’s melody. For many of them, this was a rare glimpse into the heart of the village, an invitation to share in something deeply cherished.

It was a beautiful chaos, a symphony of life and light, where every face held a story, every voice contributed to the joyous chorus. You and Satoru were just two among the many, woven into the fabric of this moment. But as he turned to you, his eyes reflecting the colorful lights around you, it felt as though the entire festival was just a backdrop to the world you two had created together tonight.

"Look!" you said, dragging him over to a stall where a candy maker was busy spinning fresh cotton candy into intricate shapes -dragons, flowers, butterflies -all infused with subtle flavors like lavender and yuzu. Satoru's eyes widened as he watched the man's hands move skillfully, weaving sugar into art. He bought it immidietly.

He was practically vibrating with excitement, his crystal blue eyes darting from stall to stall, each new sight triggering a fresh wave of childlike joy. It was like he had stepped into a wonderland of flavors and colors, and he was determined to try everything. His usual aloofness was nowhere to be found - instead, there was a wide smile on his face, pure and unfiltered, as he grabbed anything that caught his attention.

"Look at this!" he exclaimed.

The next stall you passed was filled with traditional Japanese sweets, wagashi in all shapes and sizes. Sweet bean paste and chestnut filling were encased in delicate, pastel-colored mochi. Some were shaped like tiny cherry blossoms, while others resembled seasonal fruits. Satoru couldn’t help himself - he reached out and picked up a small sakura-shaped wagashi, examining it with a kind of reverence before you nudged him to take a bite.

The moment he did, his eyes fluttered shut, a soft hum of pleasure escaping his lips as he melted into the taste. "It's so… delicate." he murmured, almost in awe, his usual animated demeanor replaced by a quiet appreciation.

You could hardly keep up with him as he moved through the festival, drawn to every colorful treat and sizzling skewer. He grabbed your hand again, and before you knew it, you were being pulled along, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you tried to keep up with his boundless enthusiasm.

Further down, you found a stall selling caramelized fruit, the skewers of glossy red apples and candied strawberries glistening under the lantern light. Without hesitation, you picked up a stick of candied strawberries and held it out to him, watching as he hesitated only for a split second before leaning forward to take a bite.

The moment the sweet and tart flavor hit his tongue, his eyes widened in surprise, and a delighted smile broke out on his face.

"Oh, this is amazing!" he said, his voice muffled slightly by the bite still in his mouth. He chewed quickly, the taste clearly captivating him. "It's like... sweet and sour magic on a stick!" he exclaimed, looking at you with eyes that sparkled with glee.

"You like it?" you teased, unable to stop smiling at his sheer enthusiasm.

He nodded vigorously, his gaze already drifting to the next stall lined with treats. His eyes were wide with wonder, darting between the rows of colorful mochi, the crackling sound of caramel being spun into cotton candy, and the steam rising from buns filled with savory or sweet fillings.

When he reached the booth with the caramelized fruit, he watched the vendor's hands intently as they dipped apples and strawberries into molten sugar, his eyes wide with fascination. "This… this is art." he murmured, almost reverently, before taking a bite of a candied apple, his expression turning blissful as he chewed.

You couldn't help but laugh softly as he moved through the festival, completely absorbed in every new experience. Satoru was such a foodie. He grabbed anything that caught his eye, his excitement so pure and infectious that it made the night even more magical.

You continued to wander, stopping at a stall where the vendor demonstrated how to make traditional hard candies, pulling sugar into thin, colorful ribbons before shaping them into delicate lollipops. You watched, captivated, as Satoru leaned in, utterly absorbed in the process. When the vendor handed him a lollipop shaped like a fox, his eyes lit up with the kind of joy you rarely saw, unguarded and genuine.

He moved through the festival grounds like a whirlwind, his eyes alight with curiosity and excitement as he surveyed the array of sweets laid out before him. It was as if every new sight, every fragrant scent, pulled him deeper into a wonderland of flavors. You could hardly keep up as he darted from stall to stall, his enthusiasm spilling over with every new discovery.

You laughed, charmed by his enthusiasm, as he moved on to a nearby stand selling mitarashi dango - skewered rice dumplings coated in a glossy, soy sauce glaze. Satoru took a skewer, eyeing the dumplings curiously before popping one into his mouth. His expression shifted through a series of reactions, starting with surprise, then contemplation, and finally pure satisfaction.

"It's sweet and savory at the same time." he marveled, licking the sauce from his lips. "The dango is chewy, but the sauce... it's got this depth to it. It's not just sugar -it's like... umami?" he looked at you as if seeking confirmation, his brows raised in excitement. "How do they make it so good?"

Before you could answer, he was already reaching for another treat - a yatsuhashi, a thin, cinnamon-flavored rice flour pastry wrapped around a dollop of sweet red bean paste. He bit into it, the cinnamon adding a warm spice to the sweetness of the bean paste. He let out a satisfied sigh, chewing slowly as if each bite needed to be fully appreciated.

"This one's so delicate." he said, holding it up to examine the thin layer of mochi encasing the filling. "The cinnamon just... wraps around the sweetness in this really comforting way."

You watched him with a fond smile, your heart swelling at the sight of him so genuinely happy. For all his power, all his strength, there was a part of him that remained untainted by the world - a part that found joy in the sweet and the simple.

And in that moment, you couldn't help, but fall a little bit more in love with him.

As you made your way through the festival, his hands never left yours. You sampled sweet potato candy, bean paste-filled pastries, and even shared a warm taiyaki filled with red bean paste, the crispy shell cracking open to reveal the sweet, steaming filling inside. Satoru's laughter mingled with yours as he stole bites from your hands, his eyes sparkling in the glow of the lanterns.

Hours seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, filled with laughter, sweets, and the simple joy of being together. At one point, you found yourselves standing in front of a booth that sold soft, fluffy daifuku. You insisted he try one filled with fresh strawberries and cream, and he obliged, taking a bite and closing his eyes to savor the taste.

Satoru looked like he was on the verge of a sugar-induced bliss, his hands full of various confections he had yet to finish. He turned to you, his cheeks flushed with excitement, his eyes shining. "I don’t think I can eat another bite." he admitted, laughing. "But... one more daifuku wouldn't hurt, right?"

You laughed.

"Right." you agreed, because watching him this happy was worth every indulgence in the world.

"I can't believe you found this place." he murmured, looking at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and gratitude. "You planned all this... for me?"

"I wanted to make you happy." your heart skipping a beat at the warmth in his voice.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at you, the noise and bustle of the festival fading into the background. "You did." he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You smiled, a quiet happiness settling over you. The festival continued to buzz around you, the air alive with the scents of sugar and joy.

----

The festival grounds were alive with a hum of activity, each game station vibrant with laughter and the bright clink of prizes being won. Paper lanterns hung above each booth, casting a warm, welcoming glow that made the whole scene feel like something out of a dream. Satoru's eyes scanned the array of stalls, and a mischievous grin spread across his face as he took in the possibilities.

"How about a little friendly competition?" he suggested, his tone teasing, as he nudged you toward the first game booth: the ring toss.

The ring toss booth was simple yet enticing, with rows of bottles lined up behind a wooden counter, their tops painted in different colors. The goal was to toss rings and land them around the necks of the bottles. Prizes hung above the stall - stuffed animals, wooden trinkets, and even small bags of candy, each prize depending on the difficulty of the toss.

Satoru paid for a handful of rings and handed half of them to you.

"Let's see who wins more." he said, his grin wide and confident. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips.

You went first, taking aim at the closest bottle. The ring left your hand in a neat arc, clattering around the neck of the bottle with a satisfying clink. Satoru raised an eyebrow, impressed but undeterred. His turn was next. He flicked his wrist, the ring soaring through the air before landing perfectly around a bottle in the back row, the more challenging target. He turned to you with a smug smile.

"Beginner's luck." you muttered playfully, determined not to be outdone. The competition escalated from there, with each of you aiming for the most difficult bottles, laughter spilling over each time a ring missed its mark or clattered to the ground. In the end, Satoru managed to land more rings than you, and he leaned against the counter, grinning.

The vendor handed him a choice of prizes, and instead of picking something for himself, he turned to you.

"Your prize, wifey." he said in an exaggerated formal tone, selecting a plush fox with bright eyes and a bushy tail. You accepted it with a grin, hugging the soft toy to your chest.

Next, you made your way to the shooting gallery, where small paper targets were lined up on moving tracks. The air rifles were simple, old-fashioned models, but the challenge was in the steady hand and precise aim required to knock down the targets. Satoru stepped up confidently, glancing at you with a raised brow.

"Care to join me, or do you want to watch a master at work?" he teased.

"Master, huh?" You shot back with a smirk. "We'll see about that."

The booth attendant handed you each a rifle, and the game began. You both took turns aiming and firing, the sound of popping balloons and the clang of knocked-over targets filling the air. Satoru was annoyingly good at it, hitting the bullseye almost every time, his focus and sharp reflexes evident. But you weren’t far behind, managing to knock down several moving targets yourself.

In the end, Satoru won by a narrow margin. He turned to the vendor, pointing at a small, intricately painted porcelain fox figurine. He picked it up and turned to you, holding it out with a gentle smile.

"You spoil me." you replied, taking the figurine carefully. His only response was a casual shrug, but the way he looked at you, eyes softening in the warm light, said more than words could.

Moving on, you came to the goldfish scooping game, a traditional stall where delicate paper scoops were used to catch darting goldfish in a shallow pool of water. The challenge lay in the fact that the paper would tear easily, making it a game of patience and skill.

"Watch and learn." Satoru announced confidently, kneeling down by the pool. He dipped his paper scoop into the water, eyes tracking the fish. For a moment, it looked like he would succeed, but just as he went to lift a fish out of the water, the paper tore, and the fish slipped away. You burst into laughter, watching his confident expression crumble into one of playful annoyance.

"Not as easy as it looks, huh?" you teased, taking a scoop for yourself.

You bent over the pool, moving the scoop slowly through the water. You felt Satoru’s eyes on you, watching intently as you coaxed a small, golden fish into the scoop. With a delicate lift, you managed to catch the fish and place it into the bowl beside the pool. Triumph surged through you as you glanced up at him, a victorious smile on your face.

He shook his head, grinning. "Beginner's luck." he echoed your earlier words, making you both laugh.

The night continued with more games. At the dart-throwing booth, you took turns popping balloons pinned to a wooden board, Satoru effortlessly hitting the hardest targets.

That dammed Six Eyes.

When you missed a shot, he playfully nudged you aside, throwing his dart with dramatic flair and popping a balloon right next to yours. The booth attendant offered a variety of prizes, and once again, Satoru chose something for you - a delicate glass jar filled with colorful, star-shaped sugar candies.

Then there was the strength tester, a tall tower with a mallet that needed to be struck to send a metal weight up to ring a bell.

"Should I use my cursed energy?" he asked, feigning seriousness. "Or should I give everyone a fair shot at winning?"

"You mean to tell me you're so weak that you need to use your powers to win a festival game?" you shot back with a playful smirk, raising one brow in challenge

He feigned an offended look, but couldn’t hide the amusement twinkling in his eyes. He chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. Without a word, Satoru hefted the mallet, swinging it with ridiculous ease. The weight rocketed to the top, hitting the bell with a resounding clang that echoed across the festival. The crowd cheered as he turned back to you, flexing his arm in mock arrogance.

"Show-off." you muttered, though your smile betrayed your amusement. Crossing your arms, you shook your head, trying to play unimpressed, but he was just too... him.

"Your turn." he said, holding the mallet out to you.

You took it, feeling a little weight of it in your hands. The crowd murmured, clearly intrigued to see if you could match the previous performance. You swung the mallet with a little efford. The metal weight shot up, reaching the top, drawing a round of applause. Satoru clapped the loudest, his eyes shining with pride as he pulled you into a quick, impulsive hug.

"That's my wife!" he proclaimed proudly, his voice carrying over the crowd. He was practically bubbling over with pride, and you couldn't help but smile at his excitement.

A few men in the back exchanged wide-eyed, almost intimidated glances, clearly taken aback by the display of strength.

You shrugged it off casually, feeling a little embarrassed by all the attention. "It was nothing special." you said, trying to play it cool.

"Who's the show-off now?" Satoru teased, his eyes glinting mischievously. He knew your strength well, of course - you were a sorcerer, just like him. But the opportunity to see you take center stage, to let the world witness a glimpse of the power he admired so much in you, made his chest swell with a little pride.

You shot him a playful glare, but your lips betrayed you with a smile. "Still you." you replied lightly, bumping your shoulder against his. "I just don't have to show off as often."

He chuckled, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you both turned to leave the booth.

The two of you moved from game to game, your laughter mingling with the sounds of the festival. The evening was filled with moments of light-hearted competition, Satoru trying to outdo you at every game, and you refusing to back down. He won more often than not, but each time he did, he chose a prize that he thought you would like - a stuffed animal, a small wooden charm, a delicate bracelet with tiny bells that jingled softly whenever you moved.

He wasn't just winning; he was showing you, in his own way, how much he cared. With each prize he handed you, his eyes held a tenderness that made your heart flutter. By the time you finished with the game stalls, your arms were filled with tokens of the night- small treasures that would remind you of this moment for a long time.

----

The crowd had thickened as the night wore on, and at some point, you and Satoru had gotten separated in the bustling festival grounds. He had turned around to say something to you, only to find an empty space where you had just been standing. His heart skipped a beat, a sliver of panic settling in his chest. He scanned the throngs of people, his height giving him a slight advantage, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of your pink yukata amidst the sea of colors.

And he has a really good eyes.

Satoru moved through the crowd, his eyes darting from face to face. The festival was loud and bright, filled with laughter and chatter, but it felt strangely hollow without you beside him. A frown creased his brow as he began to retrace his steps, weaving through the clusters of families, couples, and friends. Where could you have gone? He wondered if you’d wandered off to one of the game stalls or perhaps been drawn to something that caught your eye.

Minutes felt like hours as he searched, his mind racing with a dozen possibilities. A part of him knew you were capable and safe, but the thought of you being out of reach, even for a little while, unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He turned a corner near a booth selling candied fruits and finally, he saw you.

You were walking toward him, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Relief washed over him, mingling with the faint annoyance he felt for letting you out of his sight. As you drew closer, he noticed that you were holding something behind your back, hiding it coyly.

"Where did you run off to?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light, but unable to mask the concern in his eyes.

"I didn’t run off." you replied teasingly, "I just got a little... sidetracked." you stepped closer, finally revealing what you had been hiding. In your hands were two matching bracelets, each coiled neatly with a small collar and string.

Satoru blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The bracelets were simple yet elegant. The one in your right hand was a deep blue, the color of the evening sky just before nightfall. It had a smooth, round collar of polished metal that shone subtly under the lantern light. Attached to it was a braided string, also blue, interwoven with fine silver threads that glimmered softly. The bracelet in your left hand was pink, a soft blush hue that mirrored the shade of your yukata. It too had a small collar, this one in a warm rose gold, with a braided string of pink and gold threads.

"I won these at one of the game stalls." you explained, your voice laced with pride. "Thought they’d be a nice little keepsake." you held them out to him, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

Matching.

They were matching, and it hit him with a warmth that spread through his chest. He reached out and took the blue bracelet from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. It was lightweight but sturdy, the kind of thing that wouldn’t break easily even if worn often.

"You got these for us?" he asked, his voice softer now, the earlier worry dissolving into something more tender.

"Yes." you replied simply. "I thought... it would be nice to have something to remember tonight by." You held up the pink one, showing it off with a small flourish. "This one's mine." you added with a smile.

He couldn’t help but smile back, the knot of tension in his chest loosening. He slipped the blue bracelet over his wrist, the string settling comfortably against his skin. The metal collar gleamed faintly, catching the light. It felt right, somehow, to have this - something small yet meaningful, a token of the time you had spent together.

You fastened the pink bracelet around your wrist, the rose gold collar glinting as it caught the reflection of the lanterns. For a moment, the two of you stood there, the noise of the festival swirling around you, yet feeling like it was just the two of you in that instant. He glanced down at your wrist, then at his, a small chuckle escaping him.

"Matching bracelets, huh?" he said, his voice teasing but his eyes warm.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. "Well, I thought there were cute." you said lightly, though your eyes held a depth that made his chest tighten.

He took a step closer, lifting his wrist to brush against yours, the two bracelets touching, their colors a striking contrast. "Thank you." he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "For this... and for everything tonight."

You smiled up at him, your eyes reflecting the colorful lights around. "You're welcome," you whispered, the simple words carrying the weight of all you felt.

----

As midnight approached, the festival grounds began to shift in mood. The stalls were still alive with chatter, but a palpable sense of anticipation hung in the air. People moved in the same direction, gathering toward the open space near the edge of the festival grounds where the fireworks would soon light up the sky. Families found their spots, children clambering onto their parents' shoulders for a better view, while couples huddled closer, whispering excitedly.

Satoru nudged your arm gently, drawing your attention away from the crowd.

"How about we get a better view?" he suggested, tilting his head toward a small hill that overlooked the festival. The slope was gentle and dusted with wild grass, illuminated softly by the glow of the lanterns scattered across the grounds below.

You nodded, letting him take your hand as he led you away from the crowd. The climb was short, the grass crunching softly beneath your sandals. You reached the top just as the first firework burst into the sky - a single golden streak that shot upward, hanging for a heartbeat before exploding in a shower of shimmering light.

From the hill, the view was breathtaking. The night sky stretched out above you, a canvas of deep indigo speckled with stars. It was vast and open, the kind of sky that seemed to pull at your very soul. The moon hung low, a silver crescent cradled against the horizon, its pale light mingling with the colors that now blossomed in the air.

Another firework followed, this time a bouquet of red and gold that spread wide before cascading down like a waterfall of sparks. You stood side by side with Satoru, your fingers still entwined, he didn't let your hand go feeling the soft evening breeze play with the edges of your yukata.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing how you gazed up at the display, your eyes wide with wonder. The colors danced across your face, painting your skin in hues of emerald, sapphire, and ruby with each explosion. Your lips parted slightly, a soft smile forming as the sky above you came alive in bursts of color and light.

Satoru’s gaze softened as he watched you. He had seen fireworks countless times before, in different places and under different circumstances, but tonight felt different. It wasn’t just the beauty of the fireworks that captivated him - it was the way you seemed to lose yourself in the spectacle, the way your eyes sparkled with each new burst, reflecting the colors that lit up the sky. He found himself more drawn to you than to the display, your presence grounding him in a way that made the world seem a little less chaotic.

The fireworks continued, each one more magnificent than the last. Spirals of green and blue shot up, followed by crackling gold that spread across the sky like a phoenix spreading its wings. Some fireworks were loud and thunderous, their echoes rolling across the valley, while others were silent, fizzling into tiny stars that lingered for a moment before fading into the night.

You sighed softly, tilting your head to rest against his shoulder. He stiffened for a brief second before relaxing, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable for you. He glanced down at you again, subtly, as if trying not to disturb the moment. The way you leaned into him, trusting, at ease, sent a warmth flooding through his chest.

More exploded, this time in a sequence of vivid purples and pinks, creating shapes that wove and twisted through the sky. The crowd below gasped and cheered, but up on the hill, it felt like the show was just you two, a private spectacle shared in the quiet space you'd carved out together.

Satoru's eyes flickered back to the sky for a moment, then back to you. The reflection of the fireworks in your eyes made them appear like two bright, endless galaxies, full of depth and life. He couldn’t look away. He wondered if you realized how radiant you looked in this moment, how the joy and serenity on your face seemed to eclipse even the brightest fireworks above.

The finale began, a rapid succession of bursts that filled the sky with color and light. Golds, blues, reds, and greens overlapped in a cacophony of brilliance, trailing sparks that lit up the entire valley. It was as if the heavens had opened, showering the earth with a celebration of light.

You inhaled sharply, your hand tightening slightly around his as the sky was filled with an intricate dance of sparks. In that instant, you turned your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his. For a heartbeat, the fireworks ceased to matter. It was just you and him, standing there, the world around you a mere backdrop to this fleeting, perfect moment.

He offered you a small, genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and softened his features. Without a word, he lifted his free hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering near your cheek. The final burst of fireworks illuminated the sky in a blinding flash of gold, and in its light, you saw the sincerity in his gaze, the quiet depth of what he felt but left unspoken.

As the fireworks faded and the sky darkened once more, the echoes of the display drifting away into the night, Satoru leaned closer, his breath warm against your temple.

"Beautiful." he murmured, his voice low, though you weren’t sure if he was talking about the fireworks or something else entirely.

----

As the final crescendos of the fireworks show began to die down, the sky settling back into its inky darkness speckled with the faint glow of stars, you felt a familiar energy stir within you. It bubbled up, almost unbidden, a restless desire to add your own touch to the night’s spectacle. You glanced at Satoru, his gaze still turned skyward, his expression a blend of awe and contentment. For a moment, you hesitated, not wanting to disturb this serene moment. But then, a small smile tugged at your lips, and you decided you couldn’t help yourself.

You raised your hand slowly, focusing your energy into your palm. A soft light began to gather there, a warm, luminous glow that pulsed gently, growing brighter with each heartbeat. The positive energy bent and twisted under your will, taking form as it pooled into a delicate, shimmering shape. Satoru sensed the shift in the air and turned to look at you, his eyes widening slightly as he watched the light in your hand begin to transform.

Before him, the light morphed into the shape of a bird, its wings outstretched, its body composed of gold radiant. It was intricate and beautiful, each feather outlined in a soft, golden hue that seemed to pulse with life. For a heartbeat, it stayed there, perched in your palm, glowing brightly against the darkened sky.

Satoru stared, his eyes wide, breath held as he watched the luminous creature you had crafted. He didn't know you manage to lern how to create posivitve energy. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen, a pure manifestation of enegry, delicate and awe-inspiring.

With a gentle exhale, you lifted your hand and let the bird go. It took flight, rising gracefully into the air, its wings moving fluidly as if it were a living creature. It soared upward, leaving a faint golden trail behind it, weaving through the night sky with an elegance that took the breath away. The crowd below gasped as they noticed this new light, their eyes following the bird as it glided over the festival, casting a warm glow upon the faces of the people gathered.

Satoru couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. His usual composure cracked, revealing a look of raw wonder that you rarely saw on his face. His lips parted slightly, his eyes reflecting the hue of the bird as it climbed higher into the sky, the positive energy within it growing more intense. It was as if you had captured a piece of the stars and given it wings, a living embodiment of the night’s magic.

The bird flew above the festival, a graceful arc that seemed to bless the gathering below. It soared higher and higher, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a final, powerful beat of its wings, the bird exploded in a brilliant burst of sparkles.

The sky lit up with the most stunning shade of gold the world had ever seen, a color so vivid and warm it felt like sunlight breaking through the dark. It spread across the horizon, an eruption of light that outshone the final fireworks, cascading down in a rain of shimmering sparks that slowly faded into the night.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their voices echoing across the festival grounds. They didn’t know where this last miracle had come from, but it didn’t matter. To them, it was simply the perfect ending to a perfect night.

Satoru stood frozen beside you, his eyes fixed on the fading light in the sky. Slowly, he turned to you, his expression one of utter astonishment. "You…." he began, his voice low and almost breathless. He struggled for words, his usual confidence slipping away as he tried to grasp what he'd just witnessed.

He didn't know you can bend energy like this. This was hard, for an average sorcerer this would took forverer to uderstand, or to even create it, but you just created a bird from it. Something so hopeful, full of light, to contrast the curses and darkness that you normally conquer or exorcise.

"You did that." he finished, his voice carrying a mix of awe and disbelief.

You looked at him, a playful glint in your eyes "I couldn't help myself, sometimes I want to show off too." you admitted, a small, sheepish smile on your lips. You glanced back up at the sky where the golden sparks had lingered, now just a faint memory in the dark.

He continued to stare at you, his gaze intense, as if trying to etch this moment into his memory. Then, to your surprise, his expression softened, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. It wasn’t his usual teasing smirk or the sly grin he often wore - it was a smile of pure, unguarded admiration.

"That was amazing." he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made your heart flutter. There was no pretense, no hint of the usual banter. Just those simple words, spoken with a sincerity that made your breath hitch.

He reached out, hesitating for a fraction of a second before his hand found yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, warm and firm, grounding you in the reality of this moment. His eyes holding yours.

You felt a warmth spread through you, different from the power you had just wielded. It was softer, deeper, something that came not from within you, but from this quiet connection between you and him. You squeezed his hand, your smile widening as you gazed up at him.

"Thank you." you murmured, the words barely audible over the cheers still ringing from below. But you knew he heard you, saw it in the way his eyes softened further, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand.

"Not a show off, yeah?" he teased. You just smirked at that comment.

The night sky was dark again, the fireworks over, the golden light faded. But for the two of you, standing there on the hill, the brilliance of that moment lingered, glowing quietly in the space between you.

----

Your friend’s car hummed softly as it navigated the quiet, winding roads back to the rental house. The festival was now a distant glow behind you, the sounds and lights fading into the night as the car drove through the peaceful countryside. Satoru sat beside you in the back seat, his gaze fixed out the window, lost in his thoughts. The soft glow of the dashboard lights cast gentle shadows across his face, highlighting the mix of emotions that swirled within him - contentment, tenderness, something deeper that twisted his heart with an almost painful ache.

You sat quietly next to him, the bag of prizes resting on your lap. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather a quiet after the storm of the evening, a shared stillness that spoke of the connection forged throughout the night. Occasionally, you glanced at him, catching the reflection of the moonlight in his eyes. Each time, he seemed to be miles away, caught in the lingering magic of the night’s events.

When your friend pulled up to the rental house, you turned to him with a grateful smile.

"Thank you so much for the ride." you said, your voice soft. He gave you a warm smile in return, waving off your thanks with an easygoing shrug.

"No problem." he replied, glancing at Satoru with a nod. "You two have a good night. Get some rest."

Satoru mumbled his thanks, distractedly opening the car door and stepping out. You followed, carefully gathering all the prizes he had won into your arms - the plush fox, the porcelain figurine, the small glass jar filled with sugar candies, and all the little trinkets that had come to symbolize the memories of the night. Satoru reached over to help, his hand brushing against yours as he steadied the tower of items. For a brief moment, your eyes met, and you both smiled, a quiet understanding passing between you.

"See you around." your friend called out before driving off, leaving you and Satoru standing in the driveway, surrounded by the stillness of the night. The rental house loomed ahead, dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the festival. You both moved towards it, carrying the night’s treasures with you.

Inside, the house was cool and dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. You walked into the living room, carefully placing all the prizes on the small wooden table. Satoru watched you from the doorway, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, his heart feeling strangely heavy. You moved with a quiet grace, arranging each item on the table with care. The sight of it - the plush toys, the small trinkets, the delicate bracelet still on your wrist made something in him twist painfully.

He felt raw, like every barrier he had carefully constructed around his heart had been stripped away by the night. Watching you smile softly at the collection of prizes, your eyes glowing with the warmth of the evening, he felt a surge of emotions that left him feeling fragile.

Vulnerable. Eager.

A deep yearning for tenderness, for some word or touch that would ground him in the storm of feelings swirling inside.

You glanced up at him, catching the look in his eyes, so open, so full of unspoken things and you felt your own chest tighten. You gave him a gentle smile, one that didn’t need words, before turning toward the bedroom, carrying a small bag with you.

"I arranged with the seamstress to pick up the yukata tomorrow." you said over your shoulder as you entered the room. "We can leave them here tonight." your voice was light, matter-of-fact, but the simplicity of the statement seemed to pierce through him, highlighting the fleeting nature of it all. The night, the festival, the moments of connection, it would all end with the dawn, leaving behind only memories and the ache of what once was.

He stood there, rooted in place, feeling like he could shatter with the slightest touch. The need for some form of closeness, some affirmation that this wasn’t just a dream, burned within him so fiercely it was almost painful. He watched as you placed the bag down on the small table in the bedroom and you began to take off your hair decorations, the fabric of your yukata rustling softly in the quiet.

Satoru swallowed hard, his throat tightening around the words he couldn't bring himself to say. The house around him felt both too large and too small, the space between you a chasm he desperately wanted to cross. Every step you took, every soft movement, felt like it was tearing him apart with a longing he could barely comprehend.

You turned back to face him, sensing the shift in the air.

He was standing in the doorway, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that made your breath catch. There was something in his eyes, that dream like blue gazing, something raw and unguarded that you had never seen so openly in him before. It was as if all the walls he had built up over time had crumbled, leaving him exposed and yearning for something he couldn’t quite name.

"Satoru, is eveything okey?" you whispered, taking a step towards him. You were so caring, so devouted, so... His name on your lips was a lifeline, a tether to reality in the midst of his tumultuous emotions. He watched you close the distance between you, feeling the vulnerability within him flare up, a stark contrast to his usual self-assured demeanor.

He didn’t know how to ask for what he needed, didn’t even know if he could.

But as you stood before him, your eyes soft and searching, he felt a glimmer of hope, that maybe, just maybe, this tenderness he craved wasn’t out of reach.

Satoru stood there, every emotion crashing against him like relentless waves. The gentleness in your eyes, the way you looked at him with such unguarded warmth, made his heart twist painfully in his chest. He wanted to reach out, to close the distance between you. The need to touch you, to feel the solidity of you against him, was so strong it hurt.

He had spent so long keeping parts of himself hidden, maintaining that cool facade, but this night had unraveled everything deep within him, leaving him raw and aching for more.

You stepped closer, sensing the turmoil within him, the battle waging behind those intense crystal eyes. Your hand moved almost instinctively, reaching up to brush a strand of his hair from his forehead. The touch was feather-light, but it was enough to break something inside him. He inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment, as if savoring the feel of your fingers against his skin.

When he opened his eyes again, the vulnerability there was unmistakable. He didn’t try to hide it. Instead, he let you see everything, the longing, the fear, the desire for something more than words could express. You felt the weight of his gaze, the way it bore into you, pleading without a single sound.

"Satoru?" you asked, whispered his name again, your voice a soft anchor in the storm of his emotions. It was a question and an answer all at once, an invitation for him to close the distance if he wanted to.

And he did. God, he did.

He reached out slowly, his hand trembling slightly as it cupped your cheek. The warmth of your skin beneath his palm sent a jolt through him, a reassurance that this was real, that you were here with him. You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment. It was so simple, yet it held the weight of everything he had been yearning for all night.

His other hand found your waist, hesitantly at first, then with more certainty, pulling you closer. He needed to feel you against him, needed to know that this connection wasn't something that would fade with the night. Your bodies came together with a quiet sigh, fitting perfectly in a way that felt like the culmination of every unspoken word and stolen glance.

Satoru pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut as he breathed you in, the scent of your hair, the warmth of your breath against his lips. It was overwhelming and grounding all at once. He didn’t move for a moment, just held you there, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it.

"I..." he began, his voice hoarse, choked with the rawness of everything he felt. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words.

How could he tell you that you made him feel like he was standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying, yet so breathtakingly beautiful?

How could he explain that you made him feel more alive than he had could ever imagine?

But you didn’t need him to say it.

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with understanding, with the same mix of emotions that were tearing him apart. You brought your hands up to his face, cradling it gently, your thumbs brushing softly over his cheeks. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut once more, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.

" 'toru.." you whispered, the sound of his nickname a soothing balm against the rawness of his heart. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

He opened his eyes then, staring down at you, searching your face for something - permission, maybe, or reassurance that this wasn’t a dream. And what he found in your eyes was everything he needed. Acceptance, tenderness, a silent promise that you were here, truly here, with him, in this moment.

Unable to hold back any longer, he closed the remaining distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. It wasn’t hurried or rough - it was a quiet plea, a soft surrender to the feelings he had kept locked away for so long, that sometimes slipped from him in his weakest moment. His lips moved against yours with an urgency born from the fear, that this might slip away if he didn't hold onto it tightly enough.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands. You kissed him back with the same intensity, meeting his vulnerability with your own. It was as if every touch, every breath you shared was weaving you both closer, binding you in a way that felt unbreakable.

He pulled you tighter against him, his hands moving from your waist to wrap around your back, holding you as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. The kiss deepened, slow and aching, filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that neither of you could fully express. In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was no rental house, no onsen, no festival, no past or future - only this shared space between you, warm and safe.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged, his eyes still closed as if savoring the lingering taste of your lips on his. He felt fragile, like he might shatter at any moment, but in the most beautiful way possible. You had cracked him open, and for the first time, he didn’t want to close himself off again.

"I just..." he started, his voice breaking slightly. "I just needed this." his words were almost a confession, a quiet acknowledgment of the vulnerability that had overwhelmed him.

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Me too." you whispered back, your voice steady and full of a certainty that eased the tightness in his chest. You were here with him, present and real, and that was enough.

He let out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening for a moment before he relaxed into the embrace.

"Stay." he murmured a plea. He didn’t mean just tonight. He meant here, in this space you had created together, in this fragile yet undeniable connection.

And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that was exactly what you intended to do.

Satoru's breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to keep control. Every nerve in his body was on fire, every inch of his skin tingling with the need to be closer to you. The kiss, the way you held him, had set something loose inside him.

"I... I can't hold it anymore." he confessed, his voice low and raw, edged with an emotion that made your heart skip a beat. He swallowed hard, his breath hot. His eyes were intense, a storm of desire, fear, and longing swirling within them. "I just... can't."

He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening as if realizing how close he was, how tightly he was holding you. He stepped back an inch, his hands dropping from your waist, as if he had been burned. His gaze flickered with uncertainty and something close to panic.

"I'm sorry." he blurted out, his voice cracking. "I didn’t even ask... if I could... if you wanted this... if I could ever touch you like that."

Well, he didn't asked it at onsen. Not that it mattered, when you craved it so much.

It was so unlike him - the confident, arrogant Satoru you knew - standing there with his shoulders tense, his eyes searching yours desperately for reassurance. He looked fragile, his usual facade stripped away to reveal a man who was vulnerable and uncertain, terrified of crossing a line that would push you away.

You felt your heart squeeze painfully at the sight of him like this. Without hesitation, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a firm, reassuring embrace. His body went rigid for a heartbeat before he melted into your hold, his hands coming up to clutch at your back as if you were his lifeline.

"It’s okay." you murmured into his ear, your voice steady and soothing. "I want you to touch me. I want this." you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your gaze soft but filled with certainty. "I want you, Satoru."

Something shifted in his eyes at your words, the fear giving way to a rush of relief and desire that made him shudder in your arms. He let out a shaky breath, his hands moving up to cup your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if he was still trying to believe that this was real. His eyes searched yours for a moment longer before he leaned in again, capturing your lips with a hunger that left you breathless.

This kiss was different from the first, a torrent of passion and longing that had been held back for too long. His hands moved with more confidence now, sliding down to your waist before finding the belt of your yukata. He paused, his lips hovering over yours, his breath warm and ragged.

"Tell me if you want me to stop." he whispered, his voice a mix of command and plea, his eyes locked onto yours.

You shook your head, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"Don’t stop." you replied, the words barely a breath "I don’t want you to stop."

He needed no further encouragement. His fingers deftly untied the belt of your yukata, the fabric loosening around you. He kissed you again, harder, faster, as his hands slipped beneath the material, pushing it off your shoulders in a slow, deliberate motion. The fabric slid down your arms, pooling around your feet in a soft whisper. You felt the cool air against your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat radiating from him as he pressed his body against yours.

You gasped into his mouth, the sensation of his hands on your bare skin sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. He pulled back slightly, his eyes tracing the line of your collarbone, the curves of your body now exposed to him. There was no arrogance in his gaze, no smugness, only awe and reverence, as if he was seeing you for the first time, even if he saw you over the course of years together so many times.

It made you feel beautiful, cherished in a way that went beyond the physical.

Your hands moved to his waist, finding the belt of his yukata. You paused, your eyes meeting his in a silent question. He nodded, his gaze dark and intense, silently giving you permission. With trembling fingers, you untied his belt, letting the fabric fall open. He shrugged off the yukata, the material slipping from his broad shoulders, revealing the hard lines of his body.

He stood before you, every inch of him laid bare. His body was always a perfect view to admire. For a moment, you both stood there, the weight of what was happening sinking in.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you against him. Skin against skin, his warmth enveloping you entirely. You let out a soft sigh, your hands finding their way up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

He bent his head, his lips trailing down the side of your neck, leaving a line of fire in their wake. His hands roamed your body with a mix of urgency and tenderness, exploring every curve, every contour. You arched into his touch, your own hands sliding up to thread through his hair, holding him to you.

"Satoru..." you breathed, his name a whisper on your lips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. They were dark with desire, but there was something more there - something that made your heart ache. Vulnerability, tenderness, the look of a man who had finally allowed himself to want something deeply, fully.

"I need you." he said, his voice barely more than a rough whisper, his hands tightening on your waist. "Can I?"

You answered him with a kiss, pouring everything you felt into it -your desire, your acceptance, your own vulnerability laid bare. You pressed closer, letting your bodies meld together, the world around you fading into nothingness. There was only the two of you, standing there in the dimly lit room, skin against skin, heart against heart.

Slowly, he guided you back towards the bed, his movements careful and deliberate. Every touch, every kiss, was an unspoken promise, a silent declaration that this was real, that this was more than just a fleeting moment. As you sank onto the bed, he followed, his body hovering over yours, his eyes locked onto yours with a gaze so intense it made your breath catch.

He kissed you again, softer this time, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your heart swell. He held you like you were something precious, something fragile that he never wanted to let go of. And in that moment, as his lips traveled down your body, as he worshiped every inch of you with his touch, you knew that this was the start of something you both had been waiting for to happend again, something that went beyond words, beyond the night.

His body was bathed in the soft, dim light of the room, the contours of his muscles standing out in sharp relief. You had seen him like this before in passing years with him, but in glimpses, that had never lingered. But now, with nothing between you, there was a quiet intensity to his presence. He was beautiful, every inch of him carved with a kind of grace that took your breath away.

His hand reached for the clasp of your bra behind you and undid it in an efficient motion. You wondered for a second, how much practice he got out of you, over the years you'd spent together, if he'd learned that smooth move through you.

His gaze returned to you, his eyes raking over your body, now laid bare almost before him.

His hands moved tentatively at first, fingertips grazing the delicate skin just beneath your collarbone, tracing downward toward the swell of your breasts.

You could see the way his throat worked as he swallowed, his pupils dilating with every inch he explored. His fingers were warm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before they finally settled, cupping your breasts gently. He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, his gaze softened, filled with something deeper than just desire.

The way he looked at you made your skin prickle with heat, not from embarrassment, but from the sheer power of his desire. It wasn’t just lust in his eyes, it was an admiration, a raw need that made your heart thud in your chest.

"So beautiful." he murmured, almost to himself, his voice low and husky. He leaned down, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to the curve of your breast, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. The tenderness in his movements was at odds with the intensity in his eyes, as though he were fighting a losing battle to savor every second without rushing.

Slowly, he reached out, his fingers grazing the curve of your waist, trailing down your hip, and finally, over your thigh. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to explore your skin, his hand moving with a mixture of awe and possession.

"God." he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "You’re... perfect. You always were." there was an almost pained quality to his voice, like he was struggling to find the right words to express what he was feeling.

You reached up, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. His muscles tensed under your touch, a subtle shudder running through him as you traced the lines of his body.

Satoru moved then, his body pressing against yours, skin to skin, the sensation sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. He kissed you again, harder, his lips claiming yours with a fervor that made you dizzy. His hands slid down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs as he shifted, pulling you closer to him, as if he couldn’t bear even the smallest distance between you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, drawing him nearer. His body pressed against yours fully now, the heat of him sinking into you, making you arch into his touch. He broke the kiss, his breath ragged against your lips as he rested his forehead against yours. For a moment, you both just breathed, the rhythm of your heartbeats filling the space between you.

"I’ve wanted this." he confessed, his voice raw and strained. "I’ve wanted you... for so long. Again."

You didn’t reply with words, there were none that could capture what you felt. Instead, you pulled him down to you, your lips finding his again in a kiss. The way you moved against each other, the way you fit together, felt like a completion, the rubbing against eachother, like something that had been missing had finally fallen into place.

You felt him everywhere, his presence overwhelming, consuming, and you surrendered to it completely.

Satoru suddenly went down. Each kiss sent shivers down your skin. Kissing your belly, lower abdomen and the inside of your thighs. Until he came to the place that needed it most, covered in a thin material. His white hair tickled your delicate skin.

"You are so wet." he gasped, mesmerised, running his finger over the soaked fabric. Shame crept onto your face, you wanted to hide your face, but you couldn't take your eyes off the fascination and hunger his face expressed. He played with the slippery material for a while, charmed by your reaction as you wriggled and shook slightly, waiting for more. You thought you were going to burn, that you couldn't stand the friction, which sent waves of heat and anticipation into every cell of your body. His hands glided down your legs, pawing at the material of your underwear and finally slipping it off, showing him a sight that was finally not covered or obscured by anything.

“I missed this view.” he placed one tiny kiss on you, on that tender spot, eliciting a gasp from you, making you come alive.

He was so focused. Watching you shine all over there for him. One finger slipped suddenly into you, bringing out the gasp from your lips. He slided in so easily, that you should be ebarressed by this easiness. You tightened your fingers on the fabric of the sheet.

He pumped it inside you a couple of times, stretching the walls slowly, like he was exploring. Then added another, pumping a little faster and firmer. He searched for tempo, angle, rhythm that would elicit as much sound from you as possible. Your moans and gasps filled the room, as he finally observed, what made you tremble and your toes curl. His fingers were perfect, long, so wonderfully filling.

You couldn't comprehend how perfectly they straddled your walls, how perfectly they hit all your sensitive spots, that you dreamed of targeting every time you let your tension ease. Without success.

He started working his mouth too, kissing, sucking and licking with such ferocity, that you thought you could see stars from every move his mouth made. You couldn't concentrate, the world felt dizzy, you bit your lip to keep quiet, not wanting to sound stupid from the pleasure you felt.

This encouraged Satoru to increase the intensity of every thing he performed on you. His fingers began to slide in faster and deeper, even though you thought it was impossible. His tongue licked a bigger chunk of your flesh, and his mouth sucked harder, eliciting shivers from the orchestration that was happening on you.

Your other hand weaved into his hair, catching a large chunk of white curls and pressing his head slightly, against you. He growled lightly, pressing himself closer to you. His nose rubbed against your clit with every movement of your hips, which caught a rhythm of their own, chasing something you longed to reach. Your legs shook and you could feel everything inside you building, swirling looking for a way out.

"Please, please…" you begged breathlessly, absolutly drowned in pleasure. You wanted it so badly. He made you wanted it. So much that you didn't think about what you were talking about, that you didn't know where you were. You only knew that he, his touch, was driving you to the edge.

It all grew inside you, higher and higher, until it finally shattered you, arching your back and tightening your thighs against his face. Orgasm spread over you like a wave, leaving you shaken and vulnerable. Stronger, than you could have imagined.

You squeezed your thighs tighter instinctively, somehow trapping his face between your legs, as he guided you through the whole process extending your pleasure to the end.

Satoru didn't seem to mind, growling and moaning a little. More than once he joked about how he could die between your legs, but you never took his words seriously. Until now.

Your chest rose and fell in heavy, irregular breaths. A haze of bliss clouded your senses, leaving you utterly dazed. Your hands, once clenched tightly in the sheets, now lay limp at your sides, your body sinking into the bed, as if it could melt into the warmth that enveloped you.

Satoru watched you with a satisfied, almost smug expression, his lips curling into a flirtatious smile. There was a gleam in his eyes, a mixture of pride and possessiveness, as he took in the sight of you, completely undone, caught in the afterglow of the pleasure he had drawn from you. He raised a hand to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully, while his tongue darted out to lick his lips. He could still taste you on his tongue, a taste that lingered, rich and intoxicating.

He had tasted so many sweets tonight, but nothing compared to the taste of you. You were, without a doubt, the sweetest thing he had ever experienced.

He moved up slowly, his lips leaving a heated trail along your skin as he made his way back up to you. You could feel every breath he took, the warmth of his exhale sending shivers through you. As he hovered over you, he paused for a moment, his gaze locking onto yours, he wanted to gave you a minute to gain consciousness.

As soon as he noticed the dazed look in your eyes begin to fade, the focus slowly returning, Satoru didn’t hesitate. He moved with swift precision, lowering his head to press his lips against the delicate skin of your neck. His kisses were hot and urgent, trailing along the line of your throat, igniting sparks across your skin.

You gasped softly, your senses still heightened and your body sensitive to his every touch. He kissed you there with an intensity that made you arch into him, each kiss lingering as if he wanted to imprint himself into every inch of you. His lips traveled to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where he nipped gently before soothing the skin with his tongue, drawing a shiver from you.

His hands were not idle, they moved up your sides, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.

As Satoru pressed his body closer against yours, you felt something hard, sizable, and warm against your pussy. You could feel it sliding over your wet folds, latching onto your clit teasingly, soaking up your wetness and spreading it all over his member, smearing a white pearl of precum on the tip. You were almost drooling.

It was a sensation you hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity, a feeling you'd been yearning for, one that made every nerve in your body come alive. Now, here you were, your body trembling with excitement and need.

His mouth found the curve of your neck, and you felt a gasp escape your lips as his teeth grazed your skin. He hissed softly, the sound a mix of restraint and desire. His hands were everywhere, gliding over your waist, your hips, as he held you close, making you two rub agains eachother with more friction. A soft moans and gasps escaped your lips.

He moved to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his lips pressing firm yet gentle against your pulse point. You could feel the heat of him, the tension in his muscles as he fought to keep himself in check. He pressed himself against you with more force, rubbing against your entrance teasing it, making you hold your voice.

"Look what a mess you've made... of me." he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, almost ragged. He bit down softly, eliciting a sharp inhale from you, and then soothed the spot with his tongue, sending a wave of warmth coursing through you.

Your hands found their way to his hair, threading through the soft strands, holding him to you as his mouth continued its exploration. Each hiss against your neck, each brush of his lips, sent sparks of electricity shooting through your body. It was as if every nerve ending was attuned to him, responding to every little touch, every sigh against your skin.

When he finally lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your heart race. He held your gaze, his lips parted slightly, his breathing shallow.

"Tell me." he whispered, his voice barely more than a husky murmur, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me what you want."

There was no teasing in his voice now, no playful smirk on his lips, just raw honesty and a need for you to guide him, to let him know this was what you wanted too.

With a shuddering breath, you tilted your head slightly, baring more of your neck to him in answer.

"I want you." you whispered, your voice trembling with the emotions swirling inside you. "I want all of you."

The tension was unbearable, every second stretched into eternity. You felt like you were going mad, the need consuming you, overwhelming every thought until you could barely stand it anymore. Your voice, breathless and trembling, broke the silence.

"Satoru." you whispered, your voice thick with desire. "Stop teasing." a bashful command. Your words, so raw and urgent, sent a shudder through him.

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as though savoring the power of that moment, of your need for him, but the look in your eyes must have driven him over the edge, as he lifted your leg slightly, making more room, and guided the tip to your entrance, pressing gently against it.

A short moan broke from your lips as you felt him stretch you. Satoru wanted to slide in slowly, giving you time to get used to it, but you were so wet, so eager, that you accepted him at once. That suprised you both, as you gasped for air.

He didn't even know that he had pushed his hips all the way in unconsciously, too lost in the pleasure and the feelings he had inside to think logically. His eyes softened, his expression changed, his brow furrowed and his mouth opened, letting out a sweet moan.

"F-fuck, so tight... so wet…" moved gently backwards and pressed himself to the very end "A-ah, fuck!"

He filled you up so well. You put your legs around him pressing him closer to you, wanting to feel every last bit of his member. Satoru definitely let himself be carried away by the pleasure, pressing his lips to your neck and rolling his hips in a slow rhythm at first.

Every thrust he made you shiver and pleasure spilled from your lower abdomen to your entire body, dulling your mind. The rythm was nice and slow. His cock reached to the deepest parts of you kissing your cervix with every move.

It didn't take long before his movements began to speed up. Thrusting into you faster and with greater intensity, making you unable to control the moans that were coming out of you. His member lapped deeper, deeper and deeper, until you drove your nails into Satoru's back from the sensation, as he hit your g-spot. He whined, as you dragged your nails across his back.

"That's the spot, huh?" he said with an exhale of broken breath.

A few moves like that and you were both drunk on pleasure. He was so vocal, moaning, whining, gasping, complimenting how wonderful you were to him, how good it felt, how you take him so well.

He shifted, his body moving against yours with more precision, as he adjusted the angle of his thrusts to hit the sensitive spot inside you every time.

You could feel the tears coming to your eyes. It felt so good, so wonderful, as his cock penetrated your insides, meeting a point that took your breath away and made you dumb with pleasure.

You were so cockdrunk you were begging for more.

"Plase, more.. aaahn~" your eyes rolled back "j-justlikethat… ah 'toru.. please!" you repeated his name like a prayer, as he fulfilled your every little request - on more, on harder, on faster.

His thrusts were relentless and the sound of skin slapping against skin was everywhere.

You could feel the second orgasm gathering inside you, even more intense than the last one. Satoru must have felt it too, because he lowered himself to your ear to whisper a question.

"Where…?" he gasped, another moan breaking out of him as you pressed his hips with your legs, making his head fall onto your shoulder, helpless from the amount of pleasure you both felt.

"Inside." you cried, as he began to kiss away ever tear that fell down your flushed cheeks.

You were so close, you felt like you're gonna burn until nothing's left. What send you over the edge was his thumb, making it's way between your colliding hips and rubbing your sensitive clit that send another wave of pleasure that compleatly washed you away. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back, leaving marks for him to admire later.

He felt how you tighted against him, he growled, feeling he is going to bust in just a few seconds as well.

He kissed you hurriedly, swallowing your moans, as he rapidly pounded into you with everything that has left in him. He pulled away from your lips. For moment he rested his forehead against your, as his movements began to be stutter.

"Please sweetie, take me there." his voice sweet from pleasure "I want it so bad.. please."

A few harder thrusts and his body tightened against you. A loud moan escaped his swollen lips, as pressed his hips as far as he could into you. His cum painted your walls white, everything spilling inside you like warm lava.

His head fell numbly onto your breasts.

His chest rose and fell in sync with yours, each breath a quiet testament to the intensity of the moments just passed. You lay there together, your bodies tangled in the sheets, the air around you warm and still. Your breathing was slowly starting to calm down.

Slowly, you reached out, your fingers seeking his. The moment your hand found his, he squeezed it gently, a silent exchange of everything that words couldn't capture.

A soft smile crept onto his face, one that spoke of contentment, satisfaction, and something deeper that had been unspoken for far too long. He turned his head to look at you, eyes softening as they met yours. There was a glow to him now, a tenderness that made your heart beat faster.

You turned your head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, feeling the sweat-dampened strands of his hair against your lips.

He pulled out of you, leaving behind a feeling of emptiness, his cum leacking from you, staining the sheets, but now coulnd't care less.

You will clean it later. Maybe.

Satoru shifted beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist in a gentle, but firm embrace. He pulled you closer, tucking you against his chest, as if he needed to feel every part of you pressed against him to believe this moment was real. You snuggled into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck, his warmth enveloping you completely.

For a moment, you both simply lay there, breathing in the calm that had settled over you like a warm blanket.

Then, you lifted your gaze to meet his, and he was already looking down at you, his eyes soft and bright. There was a glimmer of something playful in his eyes, something so unmistakably him.

A small giggle bubbled up from his chest, and before you knew it, you were both giggling softly. It was the kind of laughter that came from a place of pure joy, a sweet, almost childlike sound that filled the room. His laughter was warm and contagious, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you.

"You're such a dork." you whispered between giggles, unable to stop smiling.

He let out a breathy laugh, pulling you even closer. "Says the person who’s giggling right along with me." he teased back, his tone light and filled with affection.

You both dissolved into another fit of soft laughter, your foreheads pressing together as you shared this small, tender moment.

Satoru's lips moved gently over yours, soft and unhurried, as if savoring each kiss like it was the first. His hand cupped your face, fingers tracing light patterns on your skin, while your own hand absentmindedly stroked his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was calm, peaceful, the perfect kind of afterglow, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

But then, reality began to creep back into your mind, and with it, the thought of what came next - what people would think, especially those closest to you. You let out a soft sigh against his lips, pulling back slightly to rest your forehead against his.

"What do you think Megumi’s going to say when he sees us like this?" you murmured, a hint of amusement in your voice, though the thought gnawed at you a little.

Satoru chuckled, the sound low and warm, vibrating through his chest. His eyes glinted with that familiar playfulness, the corners of his lips curling into a small, teasing smile. "Megumi?" he echoed, tilting his head to look at you "He'll probably think some curse took over us." he said, his voice light with amusement. "Either that, or he'll just roll his eyes and pretend he's not surprised."

You couldn’t help, but laugh softly at that, the image of Megumi standing there with his usual unimpressed expression coming to mind. "He would, wouldn't he?" you replied, shaking your head. "I can already see the look on his face."

"Yep." Satoru continued, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "He'd just sigh and probably mutter something about how troublesome we are. But you know he wouldn't really mind. Deep down, he'd be happy for us."

You smiled at his words, letting them settle over you. It was true, Megumi had always been quietly supportive in his own way. "Yeah." you agreed softly, your fingers tracing random patterns on Satoru's chest. "But still... it feels strange, like we've been hiding this part of ourselves for so long, and now it’s just... out there."

Satoru hummed in agreement, his lips moving against the side of your temple.

"Maybe." he admitted. "But we were never really hiding, were we? We were just... finding our way here." his hand moved to your back, stroking it gently, a soothing rhythm that made you relax even further into his embrace.

"It is real." he murmured against your skin. "And maybe it's a little strange, and maybe Megumi will think we’ve lost our minds, but this is us. And I think we’re exactly where we’re meant to be."

You closed your eyes, feeling the truth of his words settle into your bones. It was real, and it was beautiful in all its strangeness.

"Yeah, that true." you whispered, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks."

Satoru grinned, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "Exactly. And if anyone asks, we’ll just tell them the strongest sorcerer finally met his match." he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, earning a laugh from you.

"You really are impossible." you teased, shaking your head.

He just smirked, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against yours again. "Only for you." he whispered, his voice soft and full of warmth.

He continued, his expression slightly changed.

"But honestly, I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re my wife - not just on paper anymore." his eyes softened as he looked at you, the weight of his words sinking in "We've been each other's since we took care of one another, and now… now we’re really together." he continued "I've always been yours, I was too scared to accept this. Now.." his blue gaze still focused on you "I'm not afraid."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of the moment, but everything to do with the feeling of finally being seen and claimed in the way you had always longed for. You cupped his face, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone as you looked at him with a softness that mirrored his own.

"And you’re finally my husband. We’re finally together. The way we were always supposed to be." you replied, your voice trembling with the emotion of that truth.

It had taken eight years, eight long years of pretend marriage for you both to truly become this - a union that was more than just a title, more than just a piece of paper, more than friendship and sharing duties. It was real now, tangible in every kiss, every touch, every word shared between you.

He grinned at that, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of joy and relief. "We have the rest of our lives to make up for lost time." he added, his voice tender, his thumb continuing to stroke your cheek. "No more half-measures, no more walls, no more running away. "

You nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy tears, tears of finally being seen, of being loved the way you had always longed to be.

"Just us." you whispered back, leaning into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand anchor you.

"Yeah." he murmured, his lips brushing yours in the softest of kisses, sealing the promise between you. This was where you were meant to be, where he was meant to be. Together, in the quiet after the storm, finally, undeniably, whole.

"Just the two of us."

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

[d6volution]

Disconcerted.

Jax/Reader.

tags: heavy angst, hurt no comfort.

requested by: @ibbitynibbity

Another new addition to the circus. Great. Those were Jax's first thoughts when you arrived.. you were just like the other newbies, asking questions and not shutting up about this mysterious exit. That was until Caine explained how there never was an exit in the first place. It was merely a placeholder. Then your whole world came crashing down. You were distant for a while.. but soon you opened up and got more comfortable with the members.

You were kind, charming and actually.. kinda funny. Jax found himself getting drawn in by your aura. It was hard not to.

Unfortunately when it comes to Jax, grabbing his attention wasn't always a good thing.

Jax stuck his foot out as you walked by, with a 'digital' breakfast tray in your hand.

CRASH.

Everything flew from your hands, and you hit the ground with a thud, any previous chatter silenced, and all eyes were on you. "J.. Jax.." Gangle spoke up, clearly disturbed by his crude actions, but the bunny simply rolled his eyes.

"Whaatt? They'll be fine, it's just a joke. Right , y/n?" His grin grew wide as he watched you pick yourself up from the ground. Your breakfast glitching away into thin air. "S-Screw you, Jax.." Your voice was trying its hardest not to crack. This hadn't been the first time, no. This poor excuse of a bunny really seemed to get a kick out of tormenting you.

Gangle still made a point to come over and help you out, dusting off your clothes when you stood up. A flimsy ribbon caressed your back in a poor attempt to sooth you. "Thanks Gangle.." You said, shooting a small smile at the kind bundle of red.

"N.. No need to thank me.. he's.. been being a-a jerk more than usual.." She mutters under her breath, making sure to be quiet enough that Jax couldn't hear her. Luckily enough he didn't. The bunny just watched, his smile dropping when he saw you smile at gangle.. why smile at her instead of him? He was just messing around. You should find it funny.. you /would if you had any sense of humor at all.

It doesn't matter. It's not like he'll stop anyways, he told himself and silently poked at the 'food' on his plate.

You headed back to your room, too embarrassed to continue eating in the main hall. Arriving at your door you were greeted by a small note attatched to it, where your faceplate usually is. You blinked before gently yanking down the sticky note.

'Just a little apology doll, ;) maybe you'll have more fun with them instead."

Them?

Who the hell did he let into your room? You thought, and anger bubbled up throughout your body as you swung the door open. But, it was... empty. You sighed and closed the door behind yourself, flopping onto the bed and bouncing a little unceremoniously. Just then, you felt something crawling on your arm, no a LOT of some things crawling on you. Immediately, you shot up, screaming, and swatting the spiders off of your body. You hurried out of your door and fell back onto your ass in the process.

"Ouch.." The spiders had gotten knocked off of you, but their little shadows were still moving stood in your room, causing you to shudder.

Just like clockwork Jax was standing outside of your door, pointing and laughing at you. "Oh, this it too priceless, you should have seen your face, y/n. Bravo. I needed that laugh, babe." He was hunched over, still trying to catch his breath.

You were shaking with anger, the only reason he even knew about your fear of spiders was because of the time you all decided to come together as a group and open up to each other a little. Talking about your likes, dislikes... hobbies and.. fears.

"Jax.. wh-what is wrong with you..?" You said, still shaking from both anger and fear of the spiders from earlier. "What did I do to you to be treated like this!? Y.. You're insane! I hate you!" You screamed at him and his smile seemed more forced now. "Uh huh.. sure ya do." He scoffed and your breath hitched , you could hardly hold back your tears anymore.

"I do! It's n.. not my fault you're obsessed with me or something!" Tears were streaming down your face and Jax took a step closer to you. "You flatter yourself y/n, why would I be obsessed with someone like you huh? You can barely speak your mind without stuttering half the time— Nah, you're just here for a laugh. A form of entertainment for us all." He smirked before walking past you.

Your eyes were wide and you stood frozen in place. Was that true..? Was everyone laughing too.. behind your back? You spun sound but the hall was now empty. Did everyone think you were weak? Just something to laugh at to past the time?

You laughed dryly and felt your vision briefly glitch.

"Oh y/n! There you are." Kinger came rounding the corner shuffling over to you.

"H.. Huh?" His presence snapped you out of your train of thought, and your vision seemed normal again.

"Oh, a-are you okay?" He asked, seemingly worried.

'A form of entertainment.'

The words rung in your ears and your wondered if Kinger was laughing with Jax too before this. " ... No, Jax let spiders loose in my room." Your voice was hoarse from all that yelling and crying.

"Did you say spiders? I.. I'll remove them, I think they'll like it in my insect collection even though they aren't really insects but.." Kinger continued to speak to himself as he happily entered your room. Meanwhile you leaned against the wall, sliding down until you were sitting on the floor completely, silently waiting for him to remove the spiders from your room.

Jax walked back to his room, seemingly unbothered... well until he was behind closed doors. As soon as he entered his room, his shoulders slumped over and he sat on the edge of his bed. "Think I might have went a little overboard this time.. maybe I should check on them.." He muttered to himself, burying his face in his hands.

"Don't be a wuss, Jax. Just apologize. Can't be that hard." He said and stood up to his feet. Who knows maybe this could be a fresh start? A whole one eighty. He wondered if he could get some flowers too.. for, the apology of course. He said in his head as if he had anyone else to convince rather than himself.

Back in your room, you had your door locked and shut. Huddled on your bed, beneath your blankets with just your face poking out. You were muttering to yourself, staring at the wall. 'They all hate you, they all agree with Jax. You're nothing but entertainment. You're stuck here, there's no way out. No way out, no way out no way out.

The thoughts were becoming words and your vision began to glitch again, but worse this time.. at first you tried to fight it. Holding your head in your hands as if to physically keep yourself from falling apart.

Knock, knock.

'y/n, open up will ya? you're not still mad from earlier right? c'mon. i've got something to show ya.' Jax's voice was muffled from outside, but hearing his voice alone was enough to make you snap.

You laughed as your vision went completely black, only specs of color being seen here and there. Then it was silent.. and oh how blissful the silence was.

Jax sighed, and dug into his pocket after hearing no response .. pulling out a key and unlocking your door... his smile dropped and for once he looked to be in complete horror. "No.. no.." He muttered as dropped the makeshift apology basket, for a moment he was frozen but you didn't give him time to process. You were towering over him, a glob of abstracted black shifting shapes taking the form of a mindless monster.

He scurried down the hall, and you unceremoniously bursted through the small door leaving a gaping hole to your room. You bellowed and Jax felt his world crashing down on him. Did.. he cause this? Did he make you abstract?

His mind was racing and he hurried and hid around a corner. Fuck, fuck fuck. He grabbed his head and slid to the floor.

Even for someone like him this was too much, too much too fast. He was going to apologize. He.. didn't mean any of this he was just a dumb ..idiotic bunny. Jax relentlessly scolded himself until Ragatha came rounding the corner, huffing and puffing.

"J..Jax! Thank god.. y/n .. they abstracted.. we have to find Caine.. Jax..?"

He was smiling, but it was more crazed. "T.. This is all my fault.. I.. I'm.. Hah.." He laughs, and lowers his head so Ragatha couldn't see his expression.

"Go get Caine Rags.. I'll distract y/n." His voice was monotone.

"W.. What? No, let's go together—" She tried to reach her hand out and he immediately slapped it away. "I said go get Caine! Now." His voice was laced with a growl but in no way intimidating.. no, his voice shook. It was on the brink of breaking.

Jax stood up and walked in your direction, you were hard to miss. Leaving destruction in your very path.

"Y/N!" He called out, trying to get your attention. And that he did, your large form turned to face him. Bellowing loudly as you ran right for him, but he didn't move.. he stayed completely still and without hesitation you knocked him into a wall. "A.. Alright, you.. earned that one.." He said weakly, trying to pull away from your grasp now but you kept slamming him into different surfaces until he was glitching out uncontrollably.

"Oh my ! You were not exaggerating!" Caine's voice could be heard from a distance, but Jax was in far too much pain to even register it. The glitching hurt, but maybe its what he deserved for being such a asshole. Not just now, but all the time. Maybe his luck finally ran out and karma was here to bite him in the ass.

"And away with you!" Your abstracted form was tossed into the cellar by Caine and Jax reached out to you without thinking, "N.. No.." But you disappeared beneath floor.

Snap!

Jax was back to normal, the pain was gone.. well physically anyway, the pain from losing you was still burning deep in his chest. He didn't have anything to say. Any questions that Caine and Ragatha threw at him was ignored. He walked by them, and all the other members who began to show up after hearing all the commotion. He could hear their voices trailing off , talking about you.

How could you do this?

Do you think it could have been too much them?

Was it Jax..?

He walked faster and slammed the door to his room. Locking it behind him. Maybe it would be better if he stayed here..away from everyone where he could no longer cause any harm.

His thoughts only got louder and more consuming , his room seemed to shrink and box him in.. he sat on the ground before curling up in a fetal position as his thoughts started to eat him alive.

Just then, there was a brief glitch in his vision.

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 18

Part One Link to ao3 Part 17. Part Nineteen

Thank you to @stevethehairington for being supportive af and the worlds best beta and @thefreakandthehair for encouraging everything I do y'all rock!!!

Step Eighteen: Get Some Supplies

Eddie had spent quite a lot of time watching Steve in the last few weeks. Observing the way Steve spoke, the way his smile curled slowly on his lips when he thought no one was watching, the way he noticed almost everything, but was somehow still so oblivious. Eddie saw it all. 

But by far the most interesting thing about Steve was the way he could switch at the drop of a hat. 

It was the most interesting, but also the most frightening. It was like the headlights on the van all over again- one second Steve had been joking around with him, saying things that made Eddie’s heart race and his chest sink heavy with guilt; and the next his entire face went blank, a hard protective look in his eyes and a painful tension setting his spine perfectly straight. 

All because of the sound of a car. 

Eddie had no way of knowing what happened to Steve to make him like this, but curiosity was eating at him again, completely pushing aside the fact that he had almost spilled the entire bet to Steve in a fit of regretful shame. 

Well, not completely pushing it aside. Eddie’s heart was still racing like a jackrabbit, but that was besides the point. 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie murmured. 

“Nothing,” Steve replied immediately, his voice so dead it killed something in Eddie too. Steve carefully pulled away from Eddie, leaving cold handprints where his warm palms had just been against Eddie’s skin. “Stay here.” 

Not a chance. Eddie knew whose car that was, and he knew that if Hargrove was here, then nothing good was about to come of it. He waited maybe two seconds before following Steve out of the kitchen, tracing his steps to the front door that was slightly ajar, slipping out the door and onto the porch-

And walking directly into Jim Hopper’s back. 

Hopper startled like he had been shot, and Eddie reared back on instinct, nearly hitting the door in his effort to put space between himself and the police chief. When Hopper saw who bumped into him, he practically growled, his eyebrows furrowing into one long fuzzy stripe as he gave Eddie a completely unwarranted death glare. 

Rude. And uncalled for. 

It wasn’t like they were friends, but Eddie and the chief usually had a pretty good rapport. Kind of like Tom and Jerry, if Tom was the chief of police in a podunk Indiana town, and Jerry was a trailer kid who dealt drugs on the side for grocery money. Usually Hopper regarded him with put upon fondness, not straight hostility, and the shift was… disconcerting to say the least. 

Luckily for Eddie, Hopper seemed to have a bigger target for his rage tonight. A target with a blue camaro and even worse anger issues. 

Steve had only been outside for maybe thirty seconds, but that thirty seconds was long enough for him to get in trouble. Hargrove had gotten out of his stupid car, leaving the engine idling as he swaggered up to Steve, a condescending smirk in his face as his eyes flashed dangerously. Max had also scrambled out of the car, and was on her way around the hood and over to Steve’s side. 

This wasn’t going to be good. 

But, before anything could go wrong, Eddie was reminded they weren’t alone. 

“Is there a problem here, Hargrove?!” Hopper barked just as Billy reached towards Steve, putting every ounce of authority he had into his growling tone, making even Eddie shudder. Eddie had only gotten that tone out of Hopper once or twice during his many run-ins with the law, but each time it scared the bejeezus out of him. 

“No sir,” Hargrove spat out, instantly taking a step away from Steve. It seemed that even his impervious armor of assholery could be penetrated by Hopper’s power. 

Hop started down the steps of the porch, and Eddie burst into action, scurrying after him and attempting to look at least a little bit intimidating as he came to Steve’s aid. 

Mission probably not accomplished, but Eddie hoped Steve at least appreciated the gesture. Hargrove was fucking scary, and if he could beat Steve’s face in, Eddie was pretty sure that Billy might actually kill him if Eddie decided to take a swing. 

“Max, go inside,” Steve said softly as they came over, a gentle hand pushing against her arm and urging her towards the safety of the house. She pushed back, giving Steve a silent glower. Little Red was stubborn, almost as stubborn as Steve, and it was obvious she didn’t want to go anywhere without knowing nothing bad would happen to her babysitter. 

It was admirable, but it was also really, really, stupid. If anything happened, Steve would one hundred percent focus on protecting her first, which might get him hurt. Eddie wasn’t great in a fight, but he knew how to find people’s weak spots, and anyone with eyes knew that Steve’s weak spots were the people he loved. 

“Please,” Steve whispered, taking his eyes off of Billy to give her a silent look. 

Another switch. The guard dog was gone, a sweet chocolate lab in its place. Soft and careful not to hurt as he nudged his pup away from the mountain lion that wanted to devour her whole. 

Max sighed shortly, stopping to press a quick hug to Steve’s side and an even quicker flick of her middle finger towards Billy before she ran over to the porch. She sat herself down on the bottom step, her fiery red hair standing out in the dark as she leaned forward with her hands on her knees, watching them all like a hawk waiting to take flight. 

It was a compromise, and enough to keep her out of the fight that still seemed to be coming. 

“I’ll be back to get her at 8 sharp tomorrow, Harrington. She better be out here waiting,” Hargrove stated, bristling with barely concealed fury as Hopper and Eddie both flanked Steve. 

“I’ll drop Max off sometime in the afternoon, Billy,” Steve replied coolly, leaning casually backward as he crossed his arms. He was a picture of calm, a complete deviation from the rest of them. “If she’s gonna be later than 3, I’ll give you a call. Mkay?”  

Steve finished his sentence with a bitchy little smile, and Eddie bit his tongue, hating the way that his pants were starting to feel tight. It should not have been so much of a turn on to see Steve act like an ass, but when he was using his powers for good, there was something incredibly alluring about watching the former King tear someone down without so much as a swing of his fist. 

Hargrove’s nostrils were flared, and he looked like he swallowed an entire bag of lemons. He opened his mouth, probably to say something stupid, but Hopper wasn’t having any of it. 

“Anything else?” The man asked rhetorically. Before Billy could even shake his head, Hopper continued, putting his hands on his hips, “Good. Then scram before I bring you in on trespassing charges.” 

Hargrove deflated like a balloon, and Eddie barely resisted the urge to scoff. Of course Billy was the same as any other bully. It always went that way- they were all cocky and confident when they were with someone they thought they could beat, but if someone with actual power over them showed up, they instantly showed their belly. 

Eddie had no doubt that if Steve was out here alone, words would fly at the very least, and Steve might’ve even ended up with some new bruises. But the prospect of spending Christmas Eve in a cell seemed to be enough to get Billy Hargrove to fuck right off and leave them alone. 

Good riddance. 

“I could’ve handled that,” Steve complained the second Billy’s car disappeared around the corner. The annoyed face he was making at Hopper was ridiculously cute, and honestly, unfair. Eddie probably could have handled just the scrunched up nose, or the adorable little pout, but together they were a deadly combination that left him wanting to clutch his chest and beg for mercy. 

God, he was down bad for this boy. 

“Mhm,” Hopper hummed, raising a brow. 

“I could have!” Steve insisted. He turned to Eddie expectantly, waiting to hear his DM back him up. 

“You definitely could have,” Eddie reassured, despite not being entirely sure that Steve actually would have gotten out of that on his own, “but as much fun as bringing you to the hospital tonight sounds…”

The unsaid words spoke louder than Eddie had intended, and he even managed to get Hopper to bark out a short unexpected laugh. Eddie broke into a grin and shot Hop a smirk, the smile fading as Hopper seemed to realize exactly who had made him laugh and quickly went back to his angry scowling. 

What was his problem? 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Babydoll,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes, dragging Eddie’s attention back over to him. Behind them Hopper seemed to choke on air, but Steve didn’t seem to notice, too focused on his next mission. 

“I thought you couldn’t come tonight?” Steve asked Max as he walked towards where she was sitting. 

“Mom and Neil decided to go to a resort for the holiday, so it was just me and Billy alone for Christmas.” Max sighed as she stood, casually stretching her arms high above her head. “I’d rather step in front of a bus then deal with that so I gave him five bucks to drive me here.” 

Her movements and her tone were nonchalant, uncaring and almost lazy, but Eddie wasn’t fooled. Max was chewing on the inside of her lip, and she was avoiding eye contact like the plague. Most people might’ve missed it, but Eddie was good at looking. 

And Steve was too. 

“Sorry about your mom,” Steve murmured as he pulled her in for a hug. Max let him hold her for all of four seconds before pulling away roughly, tossing one braid over her shoulder and sticking her nose in the air. 

“I don’t care,” Max declared, despite all of them knowing how very much she cared. 

“Well El is going to be thrilled. She’s been stuck with just the boys all night,” Steve offered, giving Max an out from the big feelings talk. 

“I’m sure she was fine,” Max muttered, kicking at the ground, “not like anyone was missing me.” 

Eddie had spent the better part of his life being unwanted. From his parents, to his teachers, to basically the whole world. Not only was Eddie the local freak, he was also a barely closeted gay man in a small Indiana town. He had gotten good at being okay with being left behind or abandoned.  

But seeing that part of himself in the little girl in front of him hurt in a way he didn’t even think to expect.

Luckily, Steve seemed to have this handled. 

“Lucas was missing you,” Steve said teasingly, crushing her against his side as he dragged them both up the stairs. “I was too. Now that you’re here I can finally start karaoke. I’m thinking of starting with "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.”

“Fuck off Steve, that song sucks and you know it,” Max complained, trying to wiggle out of his grip. Steve held her tighter, turning back to give Eddie a ‘watch this’ look before taking a comically long breath in.

“I WANT A HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR CHRISTMAS,” Steve crowed at the top of his lungs, startling the silent frigid air of the night with the force of his voice, “ONLY A HIPPOPOTAMUS WILL DO!”

“Oh my god, you suck!” Max shouted, finally escaping his grasp and clapping her hands over her ears. Her tone was angry, but Eddie could see the huge beaming grin that was overtaking her face. Once again the unstoppable force of Steve Harrington had managed to smooth things over. 

“I can see me now on Christmas morning creeping down the stair!” Steve continued without a care, giggling like a kid as he did. “Oh, what joy and what surprise! When I open up my eyes! To see a hippo hero standing there!”

Now Max was laughing too, holding her stomach as she tripped towards the front door to try and run from Steve’s singing. He held up his hands in mock trumpet form, vocalizing the instrumental parts of the song as he followed her in, leaving the front door wide open. 

And leaving Hopper and Eddie all alone outside. 

The silence materialized out of nowhere, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. As much as Eddie wanted to just run into the house after Steve and never even look at Hopper again, he held back. Yes, this was awkward, but Eddie could deal with awkward. He was good at awkward. He regularly stood on lunch tables for fun. He could do this. He would have them back to their normal bantering rivalry before midnight.

“Hiya chief! So how’s-”

“Are you selling Steve drugs?” Hopper demanded, cutting him mid-sentence and rounding on Eddie with fury in his eyes. 

Eddie, unable to help himself, did the absolute worst thing he could have in response. 

He laughed. 

He couldn't help it. The question was just that ridiculous. He had sold to Steve in the past, even jacked up his price with the ‘rich douchebag’ tax, but it was only ever weed. A joint here and there barely counted as drugs in Eddie’s book. Steve wasn’t even one of his regulars. And since joining Hellfire, Steve hadn’t even mentioned Eddie’s side hustle. 

“Chief, even if I was, would you really expect me to tell you?” Eddie snickered, still in shock that he was being asked this by Jim Hopper of all people. Was he worried that Steve was going to give Jane drugs? It couldn’t be that, there was no way anyone would ever think Steve would do that. 

So Hopper was just… weirdly overprotective over Steve. He almost sounded like a dad. 

“Cut the crap, Munson,” Hopper growled, taking a menacing step forward. “I’m serious. I don’t know what game you’re playing here-”

“Dungeons and Dragons,” Eddie supplied, still chuckling at how insane this conversation was. 

“-but!” Hopper continued, putting emphasis on the word and on ignoring Eddie, “nothing better happen to him, or so help me god-”

“Hop!”

Hopper was cut short by the sound of Joyce Byers. She and Steve were standing in the open doorway, twin disappointed looks on both of their faces as they took in the scene in front of them. Steve hung his head low, softly muttering to himself as he plodded down the steps and grabbed Eddie’s wrist, tugging him back towards the house. 

“Handle this?” Steve begged as they passed her. 

Joyce, who was in the process of lighting a cigarette, gave him one short nod, eyes already locked on her target. Eddie didn’t really know Mrs. Byers all that well, but he had dealt with enough irate mothers to know when to stay out of a woman’s way. 

“You promised you wouldn’t act so crazy-” Eddie heard her hiss to Hopper from behind their backs. 

“I am concerned! Am I not allowed to be concerned?!” Hopper exploded, and Steve slammed the door before they could hear anymore, pressing his back against it and groaning as he hid his face in his hands. 

“Why does everyone think I’m doing drugs?” Steve muttered. It was definitely a rhetorical question, but Eddie couldn’t help being a bit of a jackass. 

“I mean it’s not like I’ve never sold to you before, Sweetheart,” He pointed out, sticking both hands deep in his pockets and letting the smirk on his face grow three times as big as Steve groaned even louder. Eddie wasn’t exactly happy to be threatened by the chief of police, but it was nice to know that there was someone who was looking out for Steve. 

Hop was no Wayne, but every person needed a grumpy old man to watch over them in Eddie’s humble opinion, and if Hop was Steve’s, then Eddie could handle a few words thrown his way. 

Steve slowly slid down the door as he grumbled and mumbled, ending up cross legged on the floor, staring up at Eddie with the most pitiful pout known to man. 

If it was anyone else, Eddie would have kept the joke going, teased them to oblivion until they were both laughing until their stomachs hurt. But Eddie was a weak, weak man, and Steve’s eyes had somehow grown inhumanely wide and sad, and there was only so much he could take. 

“Come on, let’s go check on our completely clean, absolutely drug-free cookies,” Eddie offered, sticking a hand out to Steve to help him up, “just to prove to Hopper that I’m not your hookup.” 

Steve heaved the world’s biggest sigh in response, but took Eddie’s hand anyway. As he stood, rather than letting go, he intertwined their fingers, pulling Eddie into the kitchen and squeezing their palms together once before he went for his oven mitts. 

“By the way, I didn’t get to thank you,” Steve said randomly as he slowly lifted the tray filled with cookies out of the oven. 

“Thank me for what?” Eddie asked, reaching a hand towards the fresh treats, his mouth watering at the delicious aroma filling the air. 

“Hey! Too hot, you’ll burn yourself,” Steve said, jostling the tray to one side as he smacked Eddie’s fingers away before they could get singed. He placed the tray down far from Eddie and began to transfer the cookies onto a cooling rack. 

“I meant thank you for having my back out there… you didn’t have to do that,” Steve explained, his voice getting uncharacteristically shy as he continued to stare down at the cookies and avoid looking at Eddie in any way. His shoulders were curled inwards, and his bottom lip was caught firmly between his teeth. 

Eddie could have lightened things back up, made a joke about Steve’s innate ability to get into trouble, or pulled some bullshit insult about Billy’s intelligence to make them both smile and shake their heads, but he didn’t. There was something about the hesitancy sitting in Steve’s body, the way he was almost holding his breath, waiting to see why Eddie had gone after him when Steve had told him to stay behind. 

Like he couldn’t understand why someone would want to protect him instead of the other way around. 

“I didn’t want you getting hurt by him again,” Eddie stated, feeling his cheeks get stupidly warm as he did. It wasn’t like some big declaration of feelings or love, but the way the words laid his soul bare felt just a shade too close for comfort. 

“I would’ve been fine,” Steve protested, wrapping two cookies in a paper towel and handing them over to Eddie to test taste, shooting him a wry little grin as he did. “Billy won’t touch me now anyway. Not after last time. Max made sure of that.” 

“There shouldn’t have been a first time, and there won’t be a second,” Eddie said firmly, ignoring whatever weird joke Steve was making about Billy’s thirteen year old little sister being able to stop her eighteen year old brother. “Hargrove might be able to kill me with a single punch, but I’ll die fighting for your honor, Stevie.” 

“Well, I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t need anyone else dying on my watch,” Steve said softly, his smile disappearing as his eyes faded somewhere distant and sad. 

In an instant they were back in no man’s land, unmoored and untethered to the reality around them. Steve wasn’t at a party with him anymore, just lost in some far away place that Eddie couldn’t reach. Somewhere painful, and empty looking, and all Eddie wanted to do was pull him back and protect him from whatever was trying to steal his happiness. He wanted Steve to let him in, unhook the heavy cape that was set on his shoulders and unburden himself from whatever guilt was holding him hostage. 

Whatever it was, Eddie would help. He could make this easier, at least a little bit. All Steve had to do was tell him. All Eddie had to do was ask what was wrong. 

The time for being cautious was past them, and the time for being afraid Steve might run was over too. They had to be close enough for Eddie to at least know something about whatever was torturing Steve so badly. 

And Eddie had to care enough about Steve to put him over his stupid little crush. 

So despite the fact that his heart was threatening to leap out of his chest, and the dread was making his fingers ache, Eddie took a deep breath in and forced himself to speak. 

“Hey Sweetheart?” 

But unfortunately, the universe had other plans. 

“Steve!”

“What!” Steve yelled back to Mike, breaking away from Eddie and turning just in time to see all of the kids pile into the doorway like a pack of rabid animals. 

“Now that Max is here, can we do White Elephant?” Lucas pressed, impatiently drumming his fingers on the wall.

“Please?” Will added, quickly shooting a look over to his friend before turning back to Steve with barely hidden glee. 

“Fine,” Steve sighed, dragging out the word as the kids cheered and ran out of the room.  

The wild tornado of children had passed as quickly as they came, but whatever moment the two of them had been having had long since passed. Sharing Steve was gone, and Babysitter Steve had come back in full force. There was nothing wrong with him, nothing that would take precedence over his kids at least. 

It was admirable, but Eddie kind of hated it. Actually, more than hate. Eddie despised the fact that Steve was no longer with him, lost in taking care of the rest of the world once more. It was a good trait, something to respect, but it meant that Eddie had lost his chance to dig past Steve’s walls a bit more, and maybe finally get some answers. 

“Oh wait, Eddie what were you going to ask me?” Steve said, halting in his pursuit of the kids and turning to face Eddie. 

It was sweet that he cared, but it was pointless. This wasn’t the time anymore. 

But…

The supplies he had in the lunchbox in his van might just be the perfect way to get Steve to open up a bit. 

“I was going to ask if you maybe wanted to make some not clean kinda full of drugs cookies for us to enjoy later?” Eddie asked, mentally apologizing to Hopper. Steve quickly looked around to make sure no one else was listening, his eyes wide as a secretive smile already started to pull at his lips.  

“Ask me again once the kids are asleep,” Steve whispered in his ear, intertwining their fingers. Eddie steadfastly ignored the full body shudder rolling through his body, already calculating how much of a profit loss he was going to have to go through to get Steve to finally talk. 

Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[bumbleklee]

something happens and im head over heels (diluc x reader)

hi hello hi! havent posted in a while so please be gentle with me (i am fragile). feel free to leave a comment, would love to chat with you guys about this little piece

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

characters: diluc, baby!klee, reader, unnamed neighbor

synopsis: diluc is stuck babysitting his neighbor’s baby–the only problem? he isn’t really the babysitting type. good thing you are!

key tags: minor cursing, babyfic, first kiss, clueless diluc, modern!au (technically college era but no mention of college), lowkey punk!diluc

word count: 4109

“I tried calling Jean but she isn’t around and then I phoned Eula but I think I sent her into overdrive at just the thought of babysitting.” You hear Diluc shushing the baby in between words. “What if I just drop her off at the fire station and her mom can pick her up after her shift?” 

“Okay–don’t do that.” You shake your head in bewilderment, imagining the absolute shit-show that would be. “You just need to calm down. She’s probably freaking out because you’re freaking out.” 

There’s shuffling in the background and Diluc curses when he knocks something over. “She gave me a bag, right?” He continues, his voice laced with pure disconcertment, “And I don’t even know what half of this stuff is. There’s like a bunch of plastic thingies and a bag of powder that kind of looks like meth–” 

“Not meth.” You interrupt him. “I mean, probably not meth.” 

“That’s not the point,” Diluc emphasizes, “The point is that I’m a fucking loss and really need your help.” 

(full story underneath cut)

Diluc Ragnvindr doesn’t know much about his neighbor. He knows that she’s young, probably in her late 20s or early 30s, and that she’s a single mom to a little baby girl (who has a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night and cry so loudly that it nearly wakes up everybody in their apartment building). He also knows that she works at the local hospital–specifically in the emergency room–and that her mom usually comes around every evening to watch the baby. But other than a simple wave to each other when they simultaneously take the trash out, Diluc doesn’t really know her. 

So when she shows up on his doorstep at eight thirty at night with a bundle of pink blankets in her arms and a panicked look across her face, Diluc was, to say the least, surprised. 

“Um, you’re Diluc, right?” She stammers nervously, bouncing the baby in her arms. “Crepus’ son?” 

Diluc blinks once. Then twice. “Yeah,” He says, “That’s me.” 

The woman stares at Diluc for a moment, like she was contemplating everything in her life that had led up to this point, before heaving a desolate sigh. “Is your dad home by any chance?” Her tone suggests she already knows the answers and Diluc catches her anxious eyes darting from him to the vague view of his living room.

“He’s away this weekend. Sorry.” 

“Dammit.” His neighbor thinks for a while longer, clicking her tongue against the inside of her mouth a few times before asking, “Have you ever babysat before?” 

Diluc holds back a laugh. Babysit? Him? This must have been a life-or-death situation if his sweet neighbor was asking him to watch her daughter. Because, sure, they didn’t know each other but Diluc doesn’t doubt for a moment that she has some assumptions based on his appearance alone. 

“Err…isn’t there anyone else you can ask?” Diluc asks awkwardly, his eyes drifting down the apartment hallway as if someone much more suitable for the role is going to pop out. 

“Believe me, you’re the last person I would have thought about asking.” His neighbor says nonchalantly and Diluc tries not to take offense. “But there was a bad accident on Route 46 and I was called in to the hospital. My mom is out of town too, otherwise I would have asked her. And–” She gestures to the closed doors lining the long hallway, “–I don’t even think anyone lives in those apartments. At least I know your place is habitable.” She pauses again and her eyes shift down, gazing sadly at the quiet baby in her arms. "It's so hard being a single parent...I barely have any help and just..."

Her voice wavers more and more with each word and it looks like she’s about to start crying. But before she could crack, Diluc huffs quietly and crosses his arms across his chest. 

“Okay, okay,” He says exasperatedly. “I’ll watch her. Go save lives. Or whatever.” 

His neighbor’s face lights up at his agreement and before Diluc can fully comprehend what's happening, the baby is being shoved in his arms and a black bag full of many things is dropped at his feet. She whirls around, straightening her scrubs, and looks over her shoulder one last time. 

“Call the front desk if you need anything!” She calls, blowing a kiss to her daughter. 

“Wait!” Diluc yells, a sudden wave of dread washing over him. “Does she need to eat? How do you change a diaper? Does she have a name?” 

Ignoring his more-important questions, his neighbor yells back, “Her name is Klee! Thanks again!” 

Diluc watches as his neighbor races towards the elevator at the end of the hall, presses a button, and disappears from view. He stares at the empty hallway for a second before the baby in his arms makes a noise–reminding him that, oh yeah, he’s in charge of a baby now. 

He turns to look at the baby, his arms tightening around his tiny frame, and mumbles to no one in particular. “What did I get myself into?” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Your phone rings four times before you manage to grab it. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” You say to the ringtone before grabbing your cell phone off your bedside table and swiping across the screen without bothering to look at who was calling you. “Hello?”

“Hey. I need your help.” 

“Diluc?” You zone in on his voice and immediately pick out exhaustion, agitation, and even a little fear. And the more you listen, the more you notice…a crying baby? “I swear to God, Ragnvindr, if you kidnapped a baby and want me to be your getaway–” 

“I didn’t kidnap anything!” Diluc abruptly snaps. “Shit, shit, it’s okay, Klee…” You rub your forehead in confusion as Diluc explains that he’s babysitting for his neighbor. “Fuck–everything was fine for, like, twenty minutes and then she started crying and she hasn’t stopped since! I don’t know what to do!” 

You hold back a giggle. Of course notorious ‘bad boy’ Diluc Ragnvindr doesn't know what to do with a crying baby. You aren’t surprised–in fact, you’d be more surprised if he did know what to do. 

“I tried calling Jean but she isn’t around and then I phoned Eula but I think I sent her into overdrive at just the thought of babysitting.” You hear Diluc shushing the baby in between words. “What if I just drop her off at the fire station and her mom can pick her up after her shift?” 

“Okay–don’t do that.” You shake your head in bewilderment, imagining the absolute shit-show that would be. “You just need to calm down. She’s probably freaking out because you’re freaking out.” 

There’s shuffling in the background and Diluc curses when he knocks something over. “She gave me a bag, right?” He continues, his voice laced with pure disconcertment, “And I don’t even know what half of this stuff is. There’s like a bunch of plastic thingies and a bag of powder that kind of looks like meth–” 

“Not meth.” You interrupt him. “I mean, probably not meth.” 

“That’s not the point,” Diluc emphasizes, “The point is that I’m a fucking loss and really need your help.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

When you finally get to Diluc’s apartment, his front door is unlocked so you let yourself inside. You assume your friend has his hands full with the baby anyways. 

“Luc?” You ask, wandering into the disaster-zone Diluc calls his living room. Dish rags and bathroom towels are thrown everywhere, there were random baby items all over the floor, and the yellow powder that Diluc thought was meth was spilled on a couch cushion (and upon closer investigation, you realize it’s just baby formula). You snake down the apartment halls until you spot Diluc in the kitchen. 

He already looks so spent. His hair is loose from its usual ponytail, locks frizzy and tangled, and his eyes are tired and pleading. He leans against the fridge, bouncing a wailing baby in his arms robotically. 

“Hey.” You greet with a teasing smirk. “Nice baby. Where’d you get it?” 

“Shut up.” Diluc murmurs, a frown etched deep into his face. Your smirk morphs into a sympathetic smile and you hold your arms expectedly. Diluc doesn’t hesitate to transfer Klee into your embrace and while her cries don't cease entirely, they quiet to a whiny whimper as she tries to process who you are. 

“What’s the matter?” You coo sweetly, rubbing Klee’s back with a gentle hand. “Is Diluc being mean and scary?” 

“Hey!” 

“I'm just kidding.” You laugh briefly and turn your attention back to the baby in your arms, looking for any physical signs of distress–not that you thought Diluc would have ignored them, but he was so frazzled that maybe he missed something. When you adjust Klee against your hip, her face scrunches up in discomfort and she pushes against your chest. You hum in recognition and move her onesie aside to see if there’s a blue stripe on her diaper. And sure enough, there is. “She just needs her diaper changed.” 

Diluc pales visibly. “How do I do that?” He fumbles with the hem of his Pearl Jam t-shirt. “Are there instructions on the diaper or something?” 

You laugh again and roll your eyes playfully, “I’ll show you.” 

Diluc takes Klee from you so you can rummage through the black bag on the floor and pull out a package of wipes and a clean diaper. Diluc watches you in amazement and wonders how someone could be so calm and collected about something that made him want to crawl up the wall. You grab a nearby towel–the cleanest one, to be honest–and lay it on the ground before taking Klee back from Diluc and setting her down on top of it. Your quick fingers unsnap the metal buttons on her onesie and discard the dirty diaper, cleaning Klee up and sliding a fresh diaper underneath her wiggling body. 

“See?” You beam, pressing down the sticky sides of the diaper. “Super easy!” 

“For you,” Diluc mumbles. He sits on the edge of the couch and watches you interact with Klee like you’ve known her forever. You tap her belly occasionally, enticing a giggle, and the baby kicks her legs excitedly. She was attentive, reaching out towards you and babbling incoherent sentences loudly. She was loud, and a little annoying, but if Diluc was being honest, he was just glad that she wasn’t crying anymore. “When’d you become a baby whisperer?” 

You clean up and drag Klee into your lap, letting her play with your sweatshirt strings. “My mom used to watch my cousins,” You explain, “And I guess I picked up on a thing or two.” 

Diluc hums in response. Watching you play with Klee made him feel warm. Not a bad warm, but a good warm that filled his stomach with butterflies and made his chest feel weightless. Part of him was totally impressed by you and your ability to swoon over everyone and anyone–including little babies like Klee–unlike himself, who became a quivering mess during the unknown. You kept your cool no matter what. You owned every situation life threw at you so yeah, Diluc was totally impressed. 

But even more than that, Diluc is glad that you gave him the time of day. You could have brushed him off, could have told him to figure it out, but you went out of your way to drive across town and hold a baby–a stranger’s baby, even–just because he asked. 

“You know…” You voice grabs Diluc’s attention again and he gazes down at the floor where you’re sitting. “I was supposed to go out with Itto Arataki tonight. But I canceled our date to come here.” 

Diluc holds back the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah?” He says instead. 

He knows Itto Arataki back from high school–though they were never particularly friends. He was captain of the football team and had a 2.3 GPA and drove the most obnoxious and ugly muscle car in town. Diluc didn’t care for him then, doesn’t care for him now, and the more he thinks about your potential date with him, the more a feeling of irritation grows in the pit of his stomach. 

“Yeah,” You say casually. You face Diluc and silently mimic packing and rolling a joint in the air. “He was going to give me a free eighth.” 

Diluc stifles a laugh, “What a steal.” He doesn’t particularly care to hear about how you were going to smoke with Itto (because–you could smoke with him instead). “You could have gone if you wanted to.”

You shrug, “And miss out on hanging with my best friend, Klee?” You tickle her feet and blow on the top of her head before looking at Diluc again. “This is ten times more fun than hanging out with Itto Arataki, anyways.” 

Diluc raises an eyebrow, “You’re kidding.” 

You shake your head adamantly. “Nope. I’d much rather spend time with you than the idiot who only graduated because his daddy threatened to press legal action against every single teacher at that school.” For a moment, Diluc wonders if you even know what you’re saying, wonders if you realize that you just prioritized Diluc Ragnvindr–the same Diluc Ragnvindr who pierced his own ears at fourteen and sells his extra Adderall to college freshman–over Itto Arataki–the hero of your hometown. He’s about to ask if you have your head screwed on right but before he could open his mouth, Klee starts fussing again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

As the night progresses, you and Diluc come to four conclusions about one another: 

Diluc is absolutely terrible with children. 

You are absolutely amazing with children. 

Diluc can’t stop imagining you with a different baby, maybe one with fiery red hair that kind of resembles you, and keeps shaking his head violently to disperse the invasive thought. 

And you think Diluc is acting really weird because he won’t stop shaking his head. You just hope he doesn’t have lice or something. Ew.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

“She cries a lot.” Diluc comments when Klee curls her head into the crook of your neck, angry whines leaving her mouth. You frown slightly, swaying back and forth. “Do you think she’s hungry?”

“Maybe,” You shrug, moving over to the black bag and sorting through it with one hand. “Does she just take a bottle? Or does she eat solids? Do you even know how old she is?” Diluc blinks at you, not having an answer to any of your questions. “Right. Okay. One night off her routine won’t hurt.” 

You carry the bag of formula–at least whatever was left in the bag–and an empty carafe to the kitchen and somehow manage to put together a bottle for Klee with one hand, all while Diluc stands back and watches. He wants to help, really, but feels like he’ll just be in the way more than anything. Klee cries more until you push the rubber tip into her mouth, but she only bothers to drink half of the bottle before she lets it slip from her mouth and pushes it away with her little hands. 

Sighing, you pass Diluc the half-empty bottle. You bounce Klee in your arms for a few minutes, pat her on the back, and try to make her laugh, but to no avail–she won’t stop crying. “Maybe…she’ll calm down with some music?” 

“How would I know?” 

“I don’t know! Just put something on.” 

Diluc grumbles something and heads into the living room, connecting his phone to the speaker. He scrolls through his Spotify playlists and clicks on a random one and hits shuffle. Heavy rock music fills the apartment and the opening chords to Enter Sandman start. You’re about to yell at Diluc for putting on such rowdy music for a baby but Klee only hiccups and turns towards the living room, her eyes wide and curious. 

“No way.” You laugh breathlessly, carrying Klee to the living room. Diluc’s eyes glimmer with elation and he jumps up, grabbing Klee’s tiny hands in his big ones and singing the words to her, finally eliciting a smile from the baby. 

Enter Sandman fades into Shout It Out Loud. “Well, the night’s begun and you want some fun.” Diluc taps Klee’s nose. “Did you think you’re gonna find it?” He taps her cheeks. “You gotta treat yourself like number one.” He taps her forehead. And next thing you know, Diluc has Klee in his arms and is bouncing around the living room, whirling her around in circles and dipping her up and down. “Shout it, shout it, shout it out loud!” 

It was your turn to sit back and watch–as warmth spread throughout your chest.  

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

After an hour of dancing around the living room, Klee yawns. 

It’s then that Diluc realizes his apartment isn’t really set-up for a baby. Fortunately, Klee isn’t walking yet but she is crawling, which means you and Diluc are constantly pulling chargers or wires out of her mouth. It also means that Diluc doesn’t have a crib, or anything remotely close to a crib.  Maybe you could just hold her all night. Or maybe Diluc could put a blanket down in the kitchen sink and lay Klee in there or maybe…

“How many pillows do you have?” 

Diluc cocks his head to the side. “What?” 

“I said,” You repeat, drawing out the vowels, “How many pillows do you have? On second thought, just grab all of them and meet me in your room.” 

Diluc cocks his head again, to the other side this time, and watches as you saunter down the hallway and kick open the door to his bedroom, carrying Klee inside. If it was any other night, Diluc might even throw a fit about you barging into his sacred space–but he was too exhausted to put up a fight tonight. Instead, he gathers all of the pillows from the living room, hall closet, and bedrooms. 

By the time Diluc gets to you, you’re already busy doing whatever you had planned. You fluff the pillows on Diluc’s bed and lay them on either side of Klee, making sure they’re tight and secure. You take the other pillows from Diluc and finish up your makeshift barricade around the baby. 

“There!” You beam proudly. “She won’t be able to roll over with all the pillows.” 

Shit. You were really good at this. And here Diluc was, ready to put her in the sink. 

Diluc stands stiffly in the middle of his bedroom as you run around like a headless chicken. You shut the blinds so the moonlight won’t seep through the window and turn off the floor lamp in the corner. The bedroom is veiled in darkness until you turn on a nightlight (which, in all fairness, Diluc totally forgot he owned) and a warm glow embraces the space. 

Klee is fighting sleep. She wants to sleep, desperately, but her body doesn’t, and she whines uncomfortably. You sit on the edge of the bed and pat the empty spot next to you, urging Diluc to fill it. “What’s wrong?” Diluc asks–the question directed at Klee and you. 

You smile softly, “She just needs some help falling asleep.” 

“Um…” Diluc says, his awkwardness coming back. “Like a blanket or something?” 

Without much thought, you say, “Why don’t you sing to her again?” 

This catches Diluc off guard. Sure, he took choir in high school and never turned down a drunken karaoke session but singing underneath a loud metal song was very different from singing a lullaby in a silent bedroom. He didn’t want to traumatize the poor child.

“Come on,” You plead sweetly. “She loved your voice so much before…I’m sure it would lull her right to sleep.” Diluc feels his face grow warm and he looks away, not sure how to handle the compliment. He’s extremely thankful for the darkness of the bedroom that conceals his cherry-red cheeks from you. 

Diluc composes himself enough to look back at you. He’s about to protest again but his voice jams in his throat when he realizes how close he is to you. Your faces are only inches apart and all Diluc had to do was lean forward and–

Klee cries out again, this time louder, and Diluc clears his throat. “Yeah, um, fine,” He manages, “But you can’t tell anyone. Especially my brother.” You make a ‘zipped and locked’ motion and Diluc twists his body so he’s facing Klee. She kicks her legs angrily, her tiny fists hands curl into fists and before Diluc really knows what’s doing, his voice leaves his mouth delicately. “I wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather…but traditions I can trace against the child in your face.”

You can’t hide the smile that grows across your face. Diluc hates Tears for Fears, thought they were sellouts who made music for teenage girls who wanted to be different, yet here he was–singing their most popular song to an innocent little baby. 

“Something happens and I’m head over heels. I never find out ‘till I'm head over heels.” 

You sit back and listen. Klee is quiet now, an occasional coo leaves her lips, and you’re positive that she’s going to fall asleep any minute. So Diluc keeps singing, perfecting the song word-for-word until there’s no more lyrics to say and a sleeping baby. And secretly you’re a little bummed out–you could listen to Diluc sing forever. 

But, alas, the bedroom is filled with a gentle silence and you reach across the bed to make sure the pillows are still secure before standing up and stretching your arms. And when the realization finally hits Diluc that he had just sung a baby to sleep, he wants to jump up and fistbump the air as hard as he could. He wasn’t as bad with babies as he thought and this was living proof. 

“I did that!” Diluc exclaims in a hushed-whisper. He grins at you, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes and wrinkles his nose. “I got that baby to fucking sleep all by myself! God, I feel like I can do anything right now–” 

Diluc doesn’t get to finish his sentence. In fact, he doesn’t even get to finish his thought. Because, in a matter of mere seconds, you’re dipping down towards Diluc on the bed and holding his face oh-so gently and crashing your lips together. And as cliche as it sounds, Diluc swears time stops. 

You pull away first, your eyes big and wide. “Oh my god,” You whispered. “Luc, I just–” 

“Oh.” Diluc says in a breath of air. He sits back on his hands and stares at you. He feels like his entire body is on fire. 

“I’m sorry,” You continue. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

“It’s fine,” Diluc nods. “Just…” 

He reaches a slender finger up and runs it across his bottom lip. You keep staring at him with utter shock written across your face and Diluc partially wants to remind you that you’re the one that kissed him. But his mouth refuses to move, refuses to speak, so he sits there in silence.  

“Did you hate it? 

Diluc hesitates before shaking his head, “No.” 

“Good,” You say quietly. “Good.” 

Diluc feels the bed dip again and you sit next to him. Your knees knock against his and when he doesn’t pull away, you take that as an invitation to lean in again. Diluc’s hand cups your jaw and everything feels fuzzy. You kiss like a champion, as expected, and Diluc kisses like each one is his last. Your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces and it’s enough to course electricity through your veins. 

When he needs air, Diluc pulls back enough to press his forehead against yours. “What are you doing?” He asks solemnly. 

“Kissing you,” You say–like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

Obviously it goes deeper than that. Because you kissed Ayato and you kissed Thoma and Childe and Itto Arataki and, well, not Diluc. Except you were. You were kissing Diluc in his dark bedroom while his neighbor’s baby slept on his bed surrounded by pillows. And it was fucking mental. 

And confusing. And overwhelming. And Diluc doesn’t really know how to have a single coherent thought about it. 

“Hey,” You urged, “What’s the matter?”

Diluc closes his eyes so he doesn't have to look at yours staring into his soul. “I don’t know,” He admits. “Everything and nothing.” And this was true. His mind feels like a jumbled mess of broken records and no matter how hard he tries to put them together, nothing would play. He eventually equates it to getting hooked on a book he thought he would hate, and how surprised he is that he’s really into the book, but it’s too late to put it down and really needs to see how it ends. “Kiss me again.” 

You do. 

“Again.” 

You keep kissing Diluc experimentally, like you’re trying to work your way up towards something. You kiss him until your lips are swollen and your jaws hurt and then some. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” You finally tell him. 

“Really?” Diluc asks and you nod. 

In the darkness of his bedroom, Diluc smiles. Kissing you doesn't necessarily mean anything. But it doesn’t not mean anything, either. Though he hopes it evolves past the darkness. At least one day. 

And, knowing you, Diluc has a good feeling that it would. And hopefully without a baby in the room. 

a/n: no promises i won't delete this but for now--enjoy <3

[partypoisonzz]

thoughts on vamp!trey? any thoughts? any spare thoughts at all? 🫣

— (totally not sqiblet)

(also sorry if u we’re looking for mcr related asks i just now considered that as i’m writing this lol)

All asks of all kinds (except like my social security number and shit lol) are welcome here. Plus I want to let everyone know about our special boy. 😗

Vampire!Trey Headcanons

CW: NSFW content, AFAB reader, graphic descriptions of blood/wounds, mentions of death, mentions of scars, breathplay, mentions of menstruation

SFW

He's obviously fucking terrifying. Extremely strong, extremely intense, could totally accidentally kill you from feeding and has had it happen before with other people. But he loves you and you love him, so he has this compulsion to keep you safe that he hasn't had in the past, as well as a stronger telepathic connection than he's had with any of his feeding partners. He can tell when it's too much for you. As soon as this happens, he stops everything.

Kinda weird to say about a guy who could plausibly kill you at any moment, but he's an acts of service guy, — partially because you're keeping one another alive, which is the biggest act of service of all, and partially because he's come to know you so well and wants to make sure you have everything you want and need. But if you make over him for taking care of you, he will not take the bait. He just gets all embarrassed and tells you to shut up and not mention it.

Secretly obsessed with the heated blanket that he puts on to keep you warm after he takes too much blood. He's been ice cold for nearly thirty years, so the warmth makes him feel weirdly human. He also likes how you fuss over how cold he is, all the while curling in closer to him. You don't mind wrapping yourself around a gigantic ice block. That's amoré.

Fixated on your bite scars. It isn't that he feels guilty, — it's the only way he can live, and you want him to do this, — but he still can't function knowing he's left permanent marks all over you without drawing attention to it. He traces over them when you're laying together. He kisses them sometimes, too.

Loves how affectionate you are towards him, but doesn't know how to handle it at all. Part of him still feels like he doesn't deserve you, or that your attachment to him is just a result of the mild mind-control powers that his venom contains, so having you look at him like he hung the fucking moon feels disconcerting. He never asks for reassurance, but he needs it when he gets into his depressive, paranoid moods. If you keep telling him you love him, he just might eventually think that he deserves it... Maybe.

Gets in moods sometimes where he's essentially an apex predator with the zoomies. At that point, you just kinda have to try and fight against his superhuman strength and dramatically freak out while he pretends to eat you in a borderline cartoonish fashion. It's fucked up and ridiculous, but it's one of the only times he treats his condition like something other than a curse, and also you generally end up making out afterwards, at which point he usually bites you for real.

NSFW if ya nasty

Gets so, so needy when he's hungry. If he's gone a couple days since he first realized he needed to eat for whatever reason, he will be a trembling, wild-eyed mess when you finally tell him to take what he needs. He's always a bit less considerate than usual, biting all over with reckless abandon, but he's usually also gasping and moaning, telling you that he "needed you so bad" and "you taste so good, fuck, you're perfect."

Uses his telepathic powers to edge you. He knows when you're close without you saying anything, and he stops just to make you beg. He wants you to be shaking and crying, pleading with him to let you come. This usually ends with either his teeth in your neck while he fucks you harder or removing his head from between your legs to finish you off with his fingers while he bites your thigh. The overstimulation of having him bite you while you finally come always leaves you a fucking wreck.

He also pushes every limit he can because he knows exactly how much you can take. He will press down against your windpipe until he knows he needs to let up, edge and/or overstimulate you until you can't speak, fuck you as hard as he can with his hand over your mouth until he knows that it's too much. Even when he knows he needs to settle down a bit, he keeps up the aggression, telling you to "just take a little bit more, I know you can" and "stop making so much fucking noise."

Loves eating you out. He has you sit on a towel every time regardless of the time of month because he always leaves a bunch of bites all over your hips and legs, so blood gets everywhere, anyway. Part of the appeal is that he wants to do you a favor after you've supplied him with his literal life-source, but also he just loves it in general. It feels intimate in a carnal way. He holds your legs open and goes absolutely insane. He's not gentle about it, — he literally eats you out like you're his last meal. He pins your hips down against whatever surface because his hunting instincts tell him not to let you move and fucking devours you without much rhyme or reason, smearing blood all over your thighs and his face. He'll make you come over and over until he's finally satisfied, laughing at your trembling legs and blissed-out expression when he finally pulls away.

Will have you sit on his lap while he feeds off you, so he can feel you up and, if you're lucky, finger you. Due to his predatory instincts, the more that you whine, the more ruthless he gets, pulling away from your neck to muffle your cries with his palm and tell you to stop squirming so it will be over quicker, even though he's rocking his hips up against you the entire time.

Licks the blood off of you every time he bites you. He doesn't want to waste a single drop, but he also just loves the way that you react, all desperate and usually already fucked out. Sometimes, he looks up into your eyes while he's doing it, and you're an absolute goner. You've come to crave the feeling of his tongue running over your wounds, and you find that the taste of your own blood in his mouth when you grab him by the hair and pull him up to kiss you isn't bad, either.

[hebuiltfive]

The Waiting Room

Buddy and Ellie fall sick, leaving Gordon dealing with a very nervous Alan in the veterinarian waiting room.

Words: 1,237

Rating: Gen. Audiences.

Tags: Comfort, alan's having a bad night, Mentions of Anxiety

Notes: My cat had to go in for an operation today and I've been a nervous wreck, so I wrote out my feelings via Alan (sorry Al).

I'm in no way an expert of reptiles. Any and all information is garnered from a quick Google search, so if there are mistakes, that's why.

Read it below or on AO3 here.

He'd never seen the kid pace so much, and this was Alan be was talking about. Alan, the little ball of anxiety who was always animated with some kind of energy, nervous or otherwise. It was almost disconcerting to watch.

Gordon sighed. “Al. Come and sit." 

"Can't." His little brother replied, nails now being bitten between nervously chattering teeth. 

Thankfully they were the only ones currently in the waiting room. Having to fly over at one in the morning certainly had Virgil grumbling at the controls, but it did give them the privacy to panic in peace, at least. 

"You'll wear a hole in their linoleum if you don’t." Gordon patted the plastic seat beside him. "Sit." 

At first, he thought Alan hadn't been listening, too wrapped up in his thoughts to pay heed to what Gordon was saying, but eventually his brother ceased his anxious pacing and took the seat offered. 

His nails had been given a reprieve from being chewed too, much to Gordon's relief, instead replaced with a bouncing leg. Clearly that excess energy was still in need of shaking out. 

"They're going to be fine." Gordon reassured him, placing a comforting hand on Alan's shoulder. 

Alan didn't say anything, he just continued to stare at one specific stain on the floor. 

"These guys are the best in the country.” Gordon continued. “They’re in good hands." 

"This is all my fault." 

And there was the confession, incorrect as it may have been, that Gordon had been waiting for.  His little brother had it in his head that he must be to blame for Buddy and Ellie’s affliction.

G ently, Gordon shook his head. "No." 

"Yes! I should have been watching them more carefully. I should have taken notice. I mean, how do you not notice them turning yellow?” 

"Alan, you're with them whenever you can be. You never take your eyes off them when you're home." 

"That's not true." 

… Gordon paused because o kay, maybe that was a little exaggeration, but he wasn't going to play into that right there and then. "Allie, listen to me. It isn't your fault." 

"Yes, it is!" 

"You didn't make them sick." 

"Oh, my God! What if I did? What if I brought something home with me after a rescue? What if I infected them with something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Exactly, Al, because that’s probably not what happened. Living creatures get sick all the time, it's just a sucky part of living."

Alan's head dropped, his chin resting against his collarbone. "What if I've killed them because I wasn't diligent enough?" 

"They're not dead!” 

"Yeah, not yet. What if Virgil walks out of that room without them? What if they died on the table? What if the vet had to ‘put them down'? Gordo, I won’t be able to live with myself if i killed them." 

“Alan, dude! Slow down, alright? I am ninety nine percent sure you’ve not killed them."

“That’s not one hundred percent sure.”

“That’s because not everything in life is a guarantee.”

The Tracy family were no stranger to that line, and whilst it hurt Gordon to be so blunt and to the point, he knew Alan needed to hear it.

The fact that his brother had jumped to that conclusion so quickly, however, hadn’t escaped Gordon’s notice.

"Alan, look at me. Buddy and Ellie are going to be fine." 

Simply b ecause they had to be.

Whilst Alan had taken more of a liking to the dragons, they had been Gordon's gift from two of his heroes. At first, Gordon had been keen on sending the dragons to a sanctuary in Australia because reptiles were very much not his thing. Being chased through wild jungles with overgrown cousins had made cemented that fear he had of reptiles, but after seeing his little brother so enamoured by them his viewpoint over whether they should keep the dragons quickly changed.

After all, this was Alan who had been pestering Scott for years about getting a fluffy dog to cuddle and play with. Bearded dragons weren't exactly in the same ballpark, so if Alan wanted to keep them, Alan could keep them. Scott didn’t seem to have a problem with it, after all they took less space than a dog would have done, and Gordon didn’t have to worry about finding them new homes.

So, no. Whatever Alan believed to be the worst just wasn't going to be an possibility. They were International Rescue. They saved people all the time. Two little dragons should be no problem. 

The minutes passed and began to feel like hours, slowly ticking by. Alan shuffled on his seat to rest his head against Gordon's shoulder, and Gordon instinctively wrapped his arm around his little brother as both a comfort to Alan and to himself. 

Virgil finally reappeared after what felt like an eternity. He held the little carrier in one hand, closing the door to the examination room gently behind him. 

Alan jumped to his feet, that nervous bouncing remaining as he hopped from one foot to the other. Gordon stood to join him, his arm still draped over his little brother's shoulder. 

"Well?" Alan asked as Virgil approached them. He crouched a little to see into the cage, to make sure that his beloved dragons were still in there, breathing and alive. “What happened?”

"They're going to be fine." Virgil declared, giving Gordon a small nod when he met his eye.  

It didn't surprise the aquanaut that their older brother been worried about Alan too. The kid had been fit to bursting when he stormed Gordon's room not two hours before, almost in tears because something was wrong with Buddy and Ellie. He'd had to whole household worried. 

"What is it? Is it normal? Will they heal?"

"It's called Yellow Fungus. Yes, it is common. Yes, they will heal. We caught it fast enough so the veterinarian is confident that with the right course of treatment, Buddy and Ellie will be as good as new soon." 

"See, Al?" Gordon began, bumping his shoulder with his little brother's as Alan went to relieve Virgil of the carrier. "Told you they'll be okay." 

But Alan wasn't listening. He’d been given the all-clear and was now too busy whispering words of reassurance to the dragons as he slowly made his way to the exit.  

"I've got to just go pay for the appointment and treatment." Virgil said, placing said treatment bag into Gordon's hands. 

"The kid's going to do more damage to himself by walking into a wall if he doesn't look where he's going.” Gordon commented, his eyes following his little brother as he very nearly collided with one of the columns. “Alan! Eyes front!” 

His warning call was to no avail. He sighed. "Honestly, he's going to give himself an injury if he isn't careful. Think the vets treat gremlins too?" 

Beside him, Virgil chuckled. "He's relieved they’re okay, that’s all. Thanks for watching him, by the way. It was probably best he wasn't in there." 

"Eh, no problemo. Why else do you think I tagged along?" 

In the distance, there was a slight bump, followed by an ow as Alan had very gracefully collided with the doorframe rather than walking through the door. 

To his credit, Gordon resisted the urge to face-palm. "I got it. You go pay. We'll wait for you in Two." 

"F.A.B." 

[kkoumiii]

❁ 𝐁𝐚𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 | 배제이콥⎾𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚⏌*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

/!\ Friendly reminder that my readings should not be taken at face value, I do not claim to hold the truth and I do not mean any harm to this idol, my readings are only for entertainment purposes. /!\

🌌 𝗕.𝗢.𝗬 (𝗕𝗲𝘁 𝗢𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂) - 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖮𝖸𝖹 🌌

1:02 ───ㅇ───── 2:40

⊱ ᴊᴀᴄᴏʙ's ϙᴜᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs ⊰

• Hedonist (Light attribute) | Knight of Swords | Ace of Wands | Leo ~ I will •

- When he has something in mind, he’s determined to do it and works hard to achieve his goals

- This man is CHILL. He’s definitely not the type to get into drama just for fun or be hotheaded

- Still, he has a lot of pride, and he’s slowly gaining more confidence

- This is no surprise that Jacob is generous, reliable, kind, and has a big heart. But what else could we expect from the angel of The Boyz? Soft energy kind of boy  

- He is not hard to satisfy, he is pretty much up to everything. You want to go for a walk? He’s cool with it. Want to have a picnic? Sure, let’s go. Wanna go to a fancy restaurant? He will gladly join you. Whether it is simple or high society activities, he doesn’t mind if he is with someone he appreciates

- Secrets keeper

- Jacob is creative and has an eye for beauty. He tends to have his head in the clouds since his imagination is running high

- He likes and needs new projects to stay on track and remain motivated

- He enjoys getting attention but won’t fight for the spotlight

- Opportunist, he’s up to challenge but within reason, he will get cold feet if it’s too much out of his comfort zone

- Sometimes, Jacob seems to see only people’s good side since he focuses more on their potential and idealizes them

- Yet somehow, he remains realistic, probably because he is aware of this tendency and his own limits. I can interpret this as him being very tolerant and kind to people, but if it goes too far and someone tries to take advantage of him, he won't let it slide anymore. Though, I feel like the issue has to go to great lengths for him to act upon it.

⊱ ᴊᴀᴄᴏʙ's ғᴀᴜʟᴛs ⊰

• Poet (Light attribute) | The Moon | Fifth House ~ Creativity •

- This boy tends to avoid daily boring tasks and reality in general terms; he needs to be brought back down to earth from time to time since he’s often lost in his thoughts

- Related to what I said earlier, he tends to be delusional and turns a blind eye to most of the mistakes people do, especially those he holds close to his heart

- He is probably also a bit gullible and manipulable, and sadly some people use this to their advantage. This is disconcerting since I feel like he is aware of all of this, but he still lets it slide

- Basically, he lacks discernment and is too idealistic

- He isn’t always taken seriously because he seems to be always portrayed as this kind, chill, and friendly man, but no one expects him to also be annoyed, angry, or stand his ground sometimes

- Which leads him to often be taken for granted

- The thing is, he seems to reject emotions or feelings he deems as negative, which feeds this image of him always being kind and sweet. It feels like he always has to play a role to match what people expect from him

- And sometimes he is oblivious to people’s true motives

- After all, maybe he acts this way to protect himself from conflicts and problems. But I think he is slowly but surely learning to stand up for himself and not let other people walk all over him.  

⊱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ϙᴜᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs ᴅᴏᴇs ʜᴇ ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴇ? ⊰

• Storyteller (Shadow attribute) | Beggar (Light attribute) | Networker (Shadow attribute) | The Hanged Man | Uranus ~ Genius •

The first words that came to my mind with these cards were authentic, thoughtful, patient, and resourceful. Basically, people who are naturally more withdrawn, don’t overshare, and keep their progress to themselves feel more reliable to Jacob. He appreciates people who truly do what they say and do not wait for approval since they will do everything in their own way anyway. Still, someone adaptable who is not afraid of change and can put things into perspective seems essential to him. Jacob is also inspired by resilient people who take time to work on their shadow side and do not rush to change the course of events because they wait wisely for the right time to make a move. Very important as well: someone who does not talk just for the sake of talking. He admires well-educated and cultivated people but boasting about it would be a major turn-off.

I'm in awe of this gif, his smile is everything 🥰 Lots of love xx

[wangsejabin]

Chapter 56

As a matter of fact, the distance between the stands and the theatre building would have affected the sound amplification.

The sound amplification was not affected at all by the construction of this pavilion, but it had the effect of gathering sound. It was only after looking at it for a while that Pan'er could see it, and felt as if the green clothes were whispering in her ears. The prince seemed to see what she was thinking and pointed to the water, and Pan'er realised that the water was used to amplify the sound.

If you want to talk about theatre, Pan'er really doesn't know anything about it, she just watches it. But the Prince knows a bit, even if he doesn't know everything, he knows that the key to watching a play is the stature, singing and costume of the playwright. The costume is not only the dressing and make-up of the opera singer, but also the decoration of the stage. These are the most costly things. The lotus flowers that bloom in February, the rosewood in the water pavilion, not only the furniture, but also the fence and the flooring that the Prince saw, were all made of rosewood and were worth a lot of money.

It has to be said that watching a play in this kind of place is a pleasure, and Pan'er, who was impatient to watch this kind of babbling play, actually enjoyed watching it. She was particularly attracted by the young lady who played Du Liniang. The Prince saw her eyes glued to it. "Was it good?"

"Not bad, I've never seen much of the play before, but this time I can understand it. And Master, look at this Du Liniang's costume, it's so pretty, this body, and this face, with the autumn water in her eyes, yet she is delicate but not charming ......"

"He's a man." Eh? Well, Pan'er had only just responded. She knew that many opera singers were counter-actors, that is, men playing women, and she also knew that there were many fops who bagged opera singers, and this 'bag' was not meant literally, with the suspicion of good male style.

And then she thought about what the Prince's words meant. She raised her eyes to look at him, but he turned his face away from her, so that she could only see the side of his face. He was not angry, was he? She muttered to herself, and after some thought, she suddenly waved to the Prince, smiling brightly again, "Your Highness, Master......"

"What for?" The prince was finally willing to reward her with a proper face. "You lean over a little." The prince leaned over, but she wasn't enough and continued to beckon.

Only then did he grab her sleeve and pull him towards him, and then he came up to his ear and said, "Master, I look at him because he is good-looking, better-looking than me, and I am a bit disconcerted. In Pan'er's heart, His Highness is the most handsome man, the most attractive and dashing." The prince was amused by her, and then whirled around, slightly bashful in his old face.

"Just watch the show, sit back and watch, you have no rules."She hurriedly went to sit down again, her posture extraordinarily dignified and virtuous. When the Prince saw her like this, he smiled again. The play was soon over, and Pan'er was still a bit impatient after watching it. The old man was lean and dressed like a scribe, the young one was just ordinary looking, but also dressed like a scholar.

The younger one was no more than an ordinary-looking man, but also dressed as a scholar. To be here, and dressed in this way, one would naturally think of nothing else but Jiangcheng father and son. The father and son walked up to the prince, saluted respectfully, and then bowed to Pan'er. Pan'er didn't dodge and accepted it all. Only then did Jiang Cheng say, "Your Highness, your servant has set up a banquet at Cuiyunzhu, would you like to go and taste it?"

The Prince looked at Pan'er sideways, and Jiang Cheng said, "I have also prepared a banquet for Her Ladyship Feng Yi, and the view from Cui Yunzhu is beautiful, so it is perfect for enjoying the moon. The Prince raised an eyebrow, meaning to ask. But Pan'er shook her head and said to him, "I'd rather not go, I'm a bit tired after a long afternoon's stroll."

The prince nodded and said, "Then you should go back first. Dr. Wang should be here too, so have someone ask him to take your pulse." When this was mentioned, Pan'er remembered this matter and nodded her head in response, and told the prince not to drink, and then hurried away with Xiang Pu Qing Dai. When she left, she even forgot to curtsy.

Jiang Fu secretly smacked his lips, and could not help but sigh that his father was still old-fashioned. If he had really been unwise enough to serve two beautiful girls, not to mention whether the newcomer would be favoured, this Su Feng Yi would probably have had to give him a hard time, just by looking at the way she was getting along with the Crown Prince, it would have been too easy to say that she was quite favoured.After that, the group went to the Cui Yun Building. When Pan'er returned to her quarters, Aunt Qing came to report that Dr. Wang had been waiting for a while. She called him up.

In the palace, there are rules for the doctor to ask for a pulse, but there are not so many rules when you are away from home, so Pan'er did not ask anyone to draw a curtain or anything, she just put a silk handkerchief on her wrist and let the doctor come forward to ask for a pulse.He stood with a respectful half-bend, his face stoic, but from the way his eyes moved from time to time under his half-lidded eyelids, it was clear that he was making a careful diagnosis.

Not long afterwards, he took a step back and arched his hand in congratulations, "Congratulations to Feng Yi, congratulations to Feng Yi, this is a slippery pulse." If a woman had never given birth, she would naturally not understand what this slippery pulse was, but Pan'er had given birth in her previous life, so she naturally knew that this slippery pulse was a happy pulse.

"Can you tell how long it has been going on?" She asked with a happy expression on her face. "In reply to Feng Yi's words, a month or so, less than two months, but the pulse is already obvious and ......" "How?" "Although I am good at generous pulses, my family's medical skills are in gynecology, so I also have a few unique skills. Feng Yi's pulse is solid and strong, slippery...

This means that the mother's body is healthy and the foetus is stable. But when I feel it, it doesn't look like one pulse, there is another pulse that is not as obvious and strong as this one, but it is also faintly visible, so I suspect that Feng Yi's birth is probably a double birth.

"The woman's elbow suddenly slipped off the table, thanks to her quick reaction, but she also gave a lot of fright to Aunt Qing and Xiang Pu. "Master, did you hit yourself?" Pan'er stroked her elbow unconsciously and shook her head, "Nothing, nothing ......" All could see that she looked a little dazed, but if she said she was happy, it was a little forced.

Aunt Qing couldn't help but feel a little worried, but with Dowager Doctor Wang still around, she couldn't say anything. After a while, Pan'er regained her composure: "Are you sure?" The doctor hesitated a little, but after looking at Pan'er, he hung his head and said, "Feng Yi knows that when the doctors work in the palace, they dare not say too much, for fear of inviting trouble. But Feng Yi's pulse is more than 80% positive, but the days are still early, so we can't be sure yet, we'll see in another month or so."

"That's fine, I'll invite you to come back for a pulse after a while, don't tell anyone about this beforehand, it's better to wait until it's confirmed, lest we have an empty joy."

"Yes." In fact, she knew all these things, but she always felt that she was a half-wit, so it was safest to ask the doctor. The two silly girls laughed so hard that they couldn't keep their mouths shut for half a day, not noticing that Pan'er's face was not very happy. In fact, this was not something Pan'er had expected, but when it came to it, she was still a bit dazed. In her previous life, not many people knew that when she was pregnant with the third prince, Pan'er was not carrying one but two babies.

Even she didn't know that she was carrying two babies, but only when she was in labour and couldn't come out did she realise that she was carrying two babies. But by that time it was too late, she had taken too long to give birth to the first one because her belly was too big, and only after the first one was born did she realise that there was another one in her belly, and that the one after her had come out of her mother's womb and died without even crying.

The midwife told her that the baby had been in her belly for too long and that she had taken too many supplements during her pregnancy. The most important thing is not to supplement your body indiscriminately when you are pregnant with a twin baby, because if you are not careful, the baby will be too big and you will easily get into trouble.

She remembered that when she was first pregnant, she was afraid that the Crown Princess would know to hide it carefully and did not dare to eat her own food, so she ate Baijiao and the girls'. The first thing that happened to her was that she was not able to hide it anymore and the Crown Princess found out about it.

She thought that the Crown Princess would be unhappy, after all, the second prince had not been well since he was born and her pregnancy at this time was undoubtedly a blow to her heart, but fortunately it did not take long for Hu Liang Di's side of the family to find out that she was pregnant, so she was relieved.

The Prince visited her once during that time, and unknown to her, he told the Prince Consort that her meals had changed dramatically since then.According to Fuqiu, she was given whatever the Crown Princess ate during her pregnancy, so that some people wouldn't blame the Crown Princess for treating her badly if they didn't grow their own flesh. She ate with fear and trepidation, but she thought that the Crown Princess would not do anything else, and there were advantages and disadvantages to her being in the Crown Princess's palace. So it was until she went into labour, during which time nothing happened to her.

It was only later that she realised that it was too easy to take the life of a powerless woman in the palace, just like the food, and no one could say that the Crown Princess had done anything wrong by singling her out and treating her with sincerity.

But the end was that the child was too big and died, and although she was lucky to give birth to one, it hurt her body and she never met with joy again. After more than twenty years of recuperation, she did not want to have a baby, but at the age of forty, she gave birth to a sixteenth son.

This is not even known to the Crown Prince, remember what Fuqiu told her at the time? "The Crown Princess has just lost her second son and has been in a bad mood. You know that the Crown Prince is having difficulty with his heir, and now the Empress is ill and has just been grieved by the death of her second son. The East Palace is now at the top of the tide ......"

She knew that this was the Crown Princess' intention, and in order to preserve her son, she was foolish enough to agree. The poor daughter has no name and no family, not even the incense can be worshipped, except for her to burn some paper money privately on the anniversary of her death.

In her previous life, she had always avoided this matter, and few people around her knew about it, and when Bai Jue was released from the palace, no one knew about it. She only occasionally recalls it when she tosses and turns in her dreams. If there is any question as to when Pan'er began to hate the Crown Princess in her previous life, it was from this time.

She was born lowly, shallow-eyed, and simple and cowardly, which is the common problem of lowly people, that they are too easily satisfied with the status quo, always getting by, too tolerant, and easily able to live on their own. She did not hate the way she was treated by the Crown Princess, because she felt she was a tool, and occasionally she felt resentful when she was favoured, but she felt she had to accept her fate.

She was not resentful either, for it was the Crown Princess who brought her to the Forbidden City, and she could steal the limelight from anyone but the Crown Princess. But from this time on, she began to hate, to resent, to resent, to rebel ......

Later, when she was finally able to move to another part of the palace, she told herself countless times that she should have known.

Had she known ……

There is no such thing as early knowledge in this world, and no amount of money could buy regret.Now the early knowledge has come.

Lost in thought, Pan'er hadn't realized the prince, who had been drinking at the Cuiyunzhu, had returned. It was only when the Crown Prince walked up to her that she reacted."Master ......" The crown prince hmmed and tried to touch her head, but found that she was wearing her hair in a bun, his hand fell on her shoulder again, finding that a pat was not appropriate, and finally fell on the back of her hand. "Nurture your body well, and give me a ...... healthy child."

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas22: Day 6: Homecoming

I've just discovered that we're losing power all day tomorrow, so I'm off to make sure everything is charged and ready to go. And we're decorating the tree tonight, so this is a post-and-dash.

Tonight we have a little angsty oneshot I wrote quite a while ago and I wasn't quite happy enough with so it just sitting there.

I hope you enjoy it!

He finds them in Minnesota.

(Was he looking for them? Maybe.)

The house is a sprawling place, the forest surrounds it and they are as they ever were, unchanged.

(He cannot say the same.) 

“Jasper!”

Esme is delighted to see him, and so is Emmett. Carlisle and Rosalie are pleased but subdued. Edward is watching him cautiously. There’s nothing to hear in his mind anymore, Edward doesn’t have to worry.

(He tries to remember what she smelt like; it was a million different things at once - lemons and flowers and cotton and warm blood and…)

He lets Esme hug him, high-fives Emmett but there’s nothing there. No peace or resolution or balm, just this ache of the void that exists in him now. Maybe he thought coming back here would fix things. 

“We’ve missed you,” Rosalie says, reaching out to squeeze his hand and he nods. He feels tired; his head, his bones, his heart. Like he wants to lie down and wait for oblivion. 

“It’s good to see you.” His voice is rough, unused, and the words sound flat. Carlisle and Esme exchange a look that he catches, and then Esme is hustling them back to the house. 

(Carlisle is worried; has never seen Jasper look so brittle and haunted and young, and he is ashamed to admit he wonders how many people had to die for his estranged son’s thirst to make him look such a way.)

Back in the house, in a new living room that is close enough to all the other living rooms the Cullens have owned to be slightly disconcerting, Jasper wonders why he came back at all. 

He hadn’t left on the best terms, strung-out and frustrated. Animal-hunting and school and the human charade - it was far too much to expect. It was too much, it was not enough, and he refused to stay. 

So he left them behind, and he wandered. And he killed a lot of people. 

The Cullens have questions, and he tries to focus. That’s a lot harder these days. 

Where has he been?

(Around.)

Why is he back?

(Where else can he go?)

How is he?

(Still alive. Still walking around with his throat on fire with the weight of every horrific thing he’s ever done weighing him down.)

For a minute, he imagines what it would be life if she were here, too. Human or vampire, it wouldn’t have matter. They would have loved her. It was impossible 

“What is her name?”

He looks over to Edward, sitting at the piano. Edward smiles at him, obviously misunderstanding or not hearing all the intricacies that go with the face in his mind. That she’s more than a collection of images, of memories. That she could come to the Cullens and meet them, could sit in this living room and ask them so many questions and tell them about her life with Jasper and it could have been that easy.

“Alice.”

Hearing her name hurts, the way glass sliding into human flesh does. 

“We’d love to meet her,” Esme says, beaming at him.

“I would have liked that too,” he manages hoarsely and he puts his face in his hands because it’s another day, she’s still dead, and she’s never coming here. She’s never going to be mothered by Esme, and doted on by Carlisle. She’s never going to raid Rosalie’s closet, or be pranked by Emmett, or ask Edward to play music they can dance to. 

“Jasper? What happened?” Carlisle’s voice is kind, gentle, and the older man already knows. Not the details, but the result. 

Sometimes he wishes he’d never left them. That he’d stayed and never met her, but that idea causes a rise of panic. It is what it is, it can’t be changed.

He takes a shuddering breath and begins to talk. 

The words are slow coming and rough. Ugly. Alice was human and now Alice is dead. A mugging gone wrong, and there was so much blood and it was everywhere and when he closed his hands over the wound in a panic, he heard the crunch of her ribcage and realised he’d made a bad thing so much worse. 

And she was so frightened and couldn’t catch her breath and then she was gone, bled out in a dirty alley - no long lingering good-bye, or breathless words of love. The life in her eyes dimmed, her heart went still, and her blood congealed. And she was gone, never coming back. She will not be rising again on the third day, unbreakable and pristine. 

She’s rotting in the ground underneath a stone that says ‘Mary-Alice Brandon’ and all the years she lived. 

She was going to be a dancer. 

She liked brightly coloured drinks and oranges and singing along to the radio when she did the dishes.

She always wore a necklace with a tiny ‘A’ on it, because she hated being called ‘Mary’. 

She put together all his broke bits, all the pieces of him that had been worn away, and stitched him into something that he could live with. Wrapped him up in the warmth of her affection, her hope, and her passion. She’d make him dance with her, spinning and dipping her, and they’d laugh and he’d kiss her gently - it couldn’t go too far, but he loved her so completely. 

(He’s never denied that he’s a monster, a parasite, a blight on humanity, and nothing confirmed that more than when he lapped her blood off his hands. It doesn’t matter that he looked back down at the hole in her chest, at the blood on his pants-shirt-face and the pool on the ground and promptly vomited up venom that was barely pink and he can still taste her on his tongue and it is a hell he has lived with every day since. That she died in his arms and his instinct was to feed on her.) 

Esme pulls him into the tightest hug, and he can feel her grief for him, her regret and sadness and misery that he has lost the one thing he has ever wanted. Her emotions feel very distant, muted, to him these days. It’s not a bad thing.

(He can’t feed on human blood now. It’s impossible, because all he can see is her. All he can taste is her. There’s no appeal now; it just sickens him. So Carlisle will be happy, at least, that he has to feed on animals now. He has no other choice.) 

“You have to tell us all about her, okay?” Esme says, looking devastated. “I bet she was beautiful, Jasper.”

God, she was. 

He took two things from her that night. Her phone and her little ‘A’ necklace. Her phone had all her photos on it, hundreds and hundreds of them with her bright smile and her big eyes. Videos of her dancing, talking, singing. She’s so alive in those videos that it feels impossible she’s gone. 

(There’s even a few pictures of them together, that she took and promised to never show anyone. She used one for her background screen, hugging him tightly around his neck, and he’s staring at her with a smile on his face and a look on his face that he’s found the only thing that will ever matter to him. It’s hard to look at now, knowing that he ended up hastening her death. Maybe she could have been saved, maybe she just needed medical attention. Maybe, maybe, maybe.)

He lets Esme fuss, he can feel her distress. Everyone else is just looking at him, waiting for something. Anything. And there isn’t that anymore. He’s just a void, a blackhole of grief and solitude and that bone-deep exhaustion. 

“You’re home now,” Emmett says. He looks heartbroken, like he’s mourning a sister he never met. Rosalie hasn’t said much, probably has a lot of questions about how and why, but she’s always been good to him. She won’t ask until he’s ready to answer. 

“Home,” he agrees, and it is the closest he’s ever going to get now. Because home was lying next to her on her bed, her head on the edge of her pillow, snuggled as close as she could get to him, whilst he read. Home was holding her on the couch, whilst they watched a movie after she got home at night, as she traced his hands absently. Home was every smile, every giggle, every ounce of hope and love that she emitted in his direction, and it’s all gone now. He’s never getting it back. 

So he’ll stay here. With people he cares about, who will understand that what’s been broken can never be put back together. That they are unchanged, the same people who welcomed him in once, and who have welcomed him back again. 

But he has changed, and there’s no going back. 

[ejzah]

A/N: In part one of this story, Deeks and Rosa run into one of Max’s old acquaintances. I believe @mashmaiden pointed out that Kensi and Deeks should have had a discussion with Rosa if something like this should occur. So, this chapter is a follow up where they have that discussion.

The Past Haunts, Part 2

***

“Hey, babe, did you and Rosa have a good time exploring your old haunt?” Kensi asked when she came home from her workout. Deeks accepted her kiss distractedly.

“Uh, yeah, it didn’t exactly go like we planned,” he said, and Kensi frowned, picking up on his tone.

He’d spent the last hour going over his encounter with Gabe. He was kicking himself for how he reacted, but in the moment, he’d panicked. And once Gabe turned his attention to Rosa…his only thought was to protect.

“Didn’t go as planned as in the ice cream shop was closed or something more serious?”

“As in,” Deeks sighed, jaw tightening. “We ran into someone who new Max Gentry. He recognized me.”

“Oh my god,” Kensi gasped. “Was Rosa—”

“No, nothing happened,” Deeks assured her quickly. “He honestly isn’t that dangerous, and I got rid of him quickly.” He dragged his hand through his hair.

Kensi breathed out slowly, looking vaguely relieved, still unsettled.

“I think I unnerved Rosa more than anything. You know, because I had to pretend to be Max.”

“Oh Deeks,” Kensi murmured, expression shifting once again. This time to dismay.

“I know, I should have anticipated that something like this could happen. Max was all over Reseda.”

He was an idiot for letting himself forget that part of his life so thoroughly. He found himself avoiding looking directly at Kensi.

“You couldn’t have. We all have so many aliases floating around, it could happen to any of us.” Kensi grasped his shoulders, waiting until he made eye contact. When he did, he saw way more understanding than he thought he deserved. “So please stop blaming yourself because I don’t.”

Deeks gave a short nod, and forced himself to put aside his own feelings for the moment.

“Ok. But we need to figure out something in case this ever happens again. The next person might not be scared off that easily,” he said.

“You’re right. Is in Rosa in her room?”

“Yeah, she’s finishing her biology paper.”

***

They found Rosa sitting on her bed with her laptop and several textbooks. She looked up with a smile, gesturing them both into the room.

“Hey, Deeks told me what happened when you guys were out earlier,” Kensi began.

A small line formed between her eyebrows, and her eyes flicked to Deeks before she nodded.

“Yes. Marty explained everything to me.”

“I know that was probably a little disconcerting.”

“It was,” Rosa agreed. “But I felt safe with Marty. And I know that he doesn’t do that kind of work anymore.”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean dangerous people from my past aren’t out there,” Deeks said.

“For all of us,” Kensi added. “Unfortunately. Deeks and I talked about what we could do to make sure you as safe as possible if anything like this happens again, and we came up with a plan.

“We’ll have a code word: Tacos.” She flashed Deeks a look, and Rosa flashed the tiniest of smirks. “If either of us says that and nothing else, you leave immediately.”

“Then you find the closest, busiest place you can, and call Sam or Callen immediately,” Deeks continued. “Whatever is going on, you do not stick around. I don’t care how worried you are about us. Ok?”

“I understand.” Rosa looked very serious again, but not quite scared. She squared her chin a little.

“I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this sooner,” Kensi said.

“It’s alright. There will always be danger, but at least I have you and Marty to watch over me,” Rosa said with one of her shy smiles.

[sophieswundergarten]

Yet Another Sophie Live-blog Reaction to Reading "S.O.S" (Chapter 14)

@nobody33333333 I love this chapter so much!!! I love all of your stuff, but this was so neat!!! Absolutely beautiful :)

So, without further ado, my insanely unhinged notes on how Bods has yet again created a masterpiece:

The Title Is Scaring Me

However, reading one of the Great Jeffers Scenes right off the bat made me quite happy

Erika!!

(Yes. I will continue to cheer for every single minor character whose name I manage to recognise :>)

Oh boy, the magic scene

How dare you make me Feel Things over Curtain’s stupid magic tricks

Something about “Martina didn’t deserve the Brain Sweeper. Not because of them” is just so good!! It perfectly parallels things that the Society has said/thought before, and I really like how you added it right here

And we once again enter the spiral otherwise known as “Curtain Rationalising War Crimes to Himself” SIR. You can’t wipe a child’s brain and call it a good thing!!

“But fortunately for Martina, being betrayed by a member of the Wetherall family was a situation with which Dr. Curtain could empathize.” Oh goodness. I see we’re pulling no punches this chapter.

I really love how you explain Curtain’s little magic trick in practical terms, as well as why he did it. Because, even though it’s warped and kind of problematic, he still loves Kate

Also, his concept of “the principle of the matter” and how he keeps his promises is such an interesting detail to include in his thoughts!!! I like how it communicates his morals and loopholes, because with that “letter of the law” kind of thinking, of course there are some things he’d let slide

THE MISUNDERSTANDING. THE WAY CURTAIN IS TRYING TO COMFORT HER IN HIS WEIRD SICKO WAY AND KATE IS TERRIFIED BECAUSE SHE THINKS SHE’S GOING TO LOSE SOME OF THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN HER LIFE. AHHHHHHH

Just. “a mix of confusion and terror” is the perfect way to describe all of Kate’s responses to Curtain being all wacky at her

Ah, yes. The “Milligan Surrendering Bit”. This marks the first time of many (Aside from seeing your message that you were updating) that I had to walk away and screech and wave my hands about before coming back to continue reading

The greys are so bad at their jobs, honestly. Even if he’s lying, you should probably react with more of a plan than “Okay, sure, lets take this guy in!”

(At least, that’s my opinion. I’m sure they’re trying their best, and Milligan appearing out of the bushes would be disconcerting to anyone)

OH. OHHHHHHHH MY WORD. Milligan doing all the same stuff he’s done so many times before but he doesn’t know it. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And we’re so close to him getting (At least some) of his memories back, too. I don’t know how to feel but most of it is just insane amounts of anticipation

I love the exchange of "[W]hat exactly do I want you for?” / “Everything.” / “Everything?” so very much. I enjoyed watching it on-screen, but the subtle details you add make it so much better, especially because the written format you’re using allows you to see what the characters are thinking about each other. Stupendous

ALSO. THE PARTS WHERE CURTAIN GETS ALL WORKED UP BECAUSE HE THINKS NICHOLAS IS PURPOSEFULLY TRYING TO HURT HIM (Especially when they involve the Wetheralls) ARE RIDICULOUS AND FANTASTIC. I AM LOSING IT. I’M GOING TO RELEASE TERMITES IN YOUR BASEBOARDS. AJKDJKDSKJDFJKDSJKDS

Oh, and he knows that Milligan cares about Kate so much!!! The dramatic irony of Curtain (As the kind of “main character”) and the audience knowing all of the things, and then he just refuses to elaborate on his creepy vague statements is both beautiful and infuriating

“Well, Curtain figured, traitor or not, the least he could do was indulge his former friend. For old times sake. After all, Curtain had the time to spare, and for as much as he liked to think of himself as the superior performer, he couldn’t deny that Wetherall’s stories always had a bit of a dramatic flair to them. Curtain supposed there was nothing wrong with a little entertainment before his moment of triumph.” This paragraph is gorgeous. I love it. I love it, I love it, I love it. It just made me feel such heartache and hopefulness at the same time. Curtain's pain and Milligan being just on the edge of remembering, oh my word. I don’t have any clue how to put words to the exquisite mix of emotions reading it creates in me.

MARTINA MARTINA MARTINA MARTINA MARTINA

It’s really interesting how you write Martina’s reasoning, with her telling herself that if people got in trouble, it was because they deserved it. She didn’t get in trouble because she worked hard, and that's how the world worked. (I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that her parents don’t seem to value the work she puts into things and how she might feel like she has to earn appreciation)

Oh no. Jackson and Jillson. This can go one of two ways and I don’t feel like either of them are good

Once again, your J&J dialogue is spot on and fills me with very happy wiggles

I don’t know if it was intentional, but the fact that Jackson is the one who says “or us” both times when they’re saying Martina wouldn’t betray them is so sad

THE CONFLICT. THE EMOTIONAL TURMOIL. The way that Martina is wrestling with doing what’s right and betraying the only friends or security she’s known up to now and the way that Jackson and Jillson don’t know how to form independent opinions but they still care about her and it is just a huge mess but I love it!!!! AH

I’m really proud of Martina, and of course the way you detailed her decision is wonderful, but I am still so sad for them

Okay. Bods. Listen to me. The way that you can write such gut wrenching angst and sorrow and have so many heartfelt moments, but you also pepper in things like “(which apparently included the lengthy task of painting perfect rectangles onto a warehouse floor, lots sneaking through the sewers, and testing the believability of several disguises and accents, all of which Wetherall was happy to demonstrate)” is flabbergasting. That’s such a delicate balance, and somehow you execute it perfectly each and every time. I love how this fic is a huge mix of things, because I know that I will never have to face overwhelming despair, but it also has enough intrigue and complexity that I am always invested. You are unfathomably talented.

MILLIGAN AND GARRISON OH NO I’M GOING TO LOSE IT ONCE MORE

And more hints to Garrison’s opinions on psychics!!! Oh goodness gracious, I want to shake her. Just talk to someone for heaven's sake. Ask for help!!!

The memory fragments you keep slipping in for Milligan’s point of view as extraordinary and I love them but also I am going to have to start shredding bedsheets now

AND THE FACT THAT THE LINES ARE FROM THAT FIGHT. I knew immediately what scene it was, and the “Where was your precious conscience then?” just about had me sobbing on the ground

But, you know, par for the course, this chapter made it so much more painful

“Milligan almost took a step back as Curtain approached him. He felt a sensation creeping up on him. A familiar sensation, one that told him to run.” followed by “Curtain did not bother to watch as his men dragged Wetherall to the Brain Sweeper. There was no need. He had already watched them do it so many times already.” was like being decked in the face twice over in the span of thirty seconds

And Curtain!! Who is still grieving his friends because he can’t let himself process one (1) single emotion in a healthy way ever!!! And so he has fully committed himself to the idea that what he’s doing is the right decision that he has basically no sense of reality at this point. It’s such a weird whiplash effect to go from the mostly reliable narration of some of the other characters to Professional Liar Curtain's inner monologue

I wonder if he truly didn’t think it would cause Garrison problems to sweep Milligan or if he just had so much going on he figured it was worth the risk to trust her with it

ASKJFHDSKJSLDKGASJKDFJDSK NO!!!!!!!

Garrison and Kate is one of the worst potential relationships we lost in my opinion

(I say as if it doesn’t change all the time depending on which bit I’m reading)

Oh, and they took her bucket. And Garrison doesn’t know why it’s so important.

THE CABINET.

Oh, yes!!! YES!! Garrison, oh my goodness I am so excited. She may not be the best person, but she’s trying her hardest and I have been waiting to see what she would do for ages. You’ve made her into such a compelling character. Oh great heavens. **Incoherent screaming**

StickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickyStickySticky

“Curtain looked at Sticky in surprise. The sequence was right, but Sticky had messed up the first part. He had ordered people not only to not acknowledge that Curtain’s commands were in their heads, but to ignore to them entirely.” I am infatuated with how you add these little details, because even though they might be what would logically follow, you give them such a sense of belonging in the story and it makes the whole thing a lot richer.

Oh dear, every time Curtain starts thinking about which of the kids are spies he goes along the lines of “Of course! It was so obvious!” and somehow he’s still always off

“As for Reynie Muldoon, the boy clearly had some social issues and was a bit of a rule breaker” Why does he keep judging this child so harshly

GARRISON’S RUNNING. I THINK SHE’S ABOUT TO GO DO SOMETHING INADVISABLE

Isaac!!! I was holding my breath waiting for this since you mentioned him and I am so excited!!!

Aw man, he’s such a goof.

You don’t know how happy I am that you resolved poor Isaac being sent out into the woods

“-Martina doesn’t like you. Reynie lied to you so that you would give him his keycard.” For some reason this line stuck out to me. It’s so… visceral. It’s very blunt, but it’s true. And it’s showing a much more vital side of Garrison that she’s been hiding from for years, and I’m ecstatic about her little (and big) character breakthroughs

“ “But maybe one day I’ll learn to love again,” the thirteen-year-old boy mused sadly. “And maybe the next time things will work out.” ” Who is this child. Why is he like this. I have so many questions but I love thim.

In a way, he’s so mature, and the way he reacted to Garrison has a lot of sensibility in it, but also he’s thirteen

OKAY

OKAY LISTEN

I STILL CAN’T PROCESS THIS BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS AMAZING FANTASTIC LOVELY WONDERFUL AWESOME GLORIOUS EXTRAORDINARY PART THAT YOU WROTE

I AM TRYING MY BEST BUT MY MIND DISSOLVES INTO LITERAL GIBBERISH WHENEVER I THINK ABOUT IT SO FOR THE SAKE OF GETTING THIS OUT SOON I’M GOING TO HAVE TO PUT THAT PART ON HOLD

BUT KNOW THAT I LOVE IT AND I WAS SCREAMING SO MUCH LAST NIGHT AND I STILL AM SCREAMING RIGHT NOW

(I do love that you added Mr. Oshiro being like “I’m an actor!” in the middle of that)

The Jackson and Jillson stuff almost killed me. I don’t know how I’m going to survive the rest of this fic when you try and give me a heart attack every few minutes

YEAH MILLIGAN

I need you to know that I legitimately started laughing out loud as soon as the clapping happened

I was giggling like a madman, alone in the dark, and I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it

“Milligan frantically looked around him, looking for the sight of Kate Wetherall (which was the only person Milligan assumed Jeffers could have been referring to), but of course, found no one.” Yet another hugely artistic and lovely line that I want to hug extremely tightly

I adore how once again Milligan is completely distracted and Does Not Care In The Slightest and just knocks Jeffers out and keeps moving

Peak “rival” relationship

HHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and Milligan and Garrison and—

AND SHE KNOWS. SHE KNOWS HE’S KATE’S DAD AND I WANT TO HUG HER

Oh. Oh, and she thinks he’s going to hurt her. And she thinks she deserves it

This is the “I think you need better friends” / “And I think my friend deserves better” thing all over again and I’m going to cry

THEY’RE BOTH CONFUSED AND SAD AND HURT AND THEY CAN’T COMFORT EACH OTHER

AND SHE TELLS HIM

SHE TELLS HIM AND I WASN’T EXPECTING THAT AND ONCE AGAIN I HAVE FALLEN PREY TO THE NOBODY SIGNATURE LAST SCENE GUT PUNCH

“And this could all be a lie, a distraction, there was no point in Milligan getting his hopes up when he had a mission to fulfill, and… if Kate was his then he…he wouldn’t have abandoned her, he could never have forgotten her…could he?” Oh, hello. Thank you for ripping my heart out again

I do really love how you worked the bit about Milligan’s hair being short in

(Also because I cut my hair and donate it every couple years, so that was kind of a neat personal connection for me :>)

“Milligan’s eyes began to fill with tears, realizing just how much he might have lost. A daughter who grew up without her mother or her father, a love he had lost and couldn’t even remember. A part of him didn’t want so much tragedy to be real. And…it might not be. These memories still felt so far away, it felt like he was remembering a dream he’d had once. But to another part of him, it felt right. Like was the truth that he had been searching for all along, and whether it was unpleasant or not didn’t matter because it was real. It was his life.” There are too many absolutely majestic snippets of your writing. I’m sorry for copy-pasting so much of your own work, but it’s driving me up a wall.

Oh!! OH!! And she gives him memory revival tricks!!!!

But they can’t help him.

AND HE CAN’T JUST LEAVE. BECAUSE HE STILL CARES ABOUT HER.

BUT. BUT GARRISON STILL THINKS SHE’S IRREDEEMABLE. 

“ “No one deserves this,” Milligan insisted, “including you.” ”

AND THEN YOU BRING THE DREAM THING BACK AGAIN

And it’s in Isaac’s little speech!! And Jeffers!!! Oh man, I don’t know if I’m reading too much into it, but you and your metaphors and your themes and your motifs and just your writing

Poor Garrison somehow always ends up alone. Oh, I want Milligan to be able to talk to her!!!

Also can you please stop causing my molecules to disintegrate because your fic is so good? I’m going to freeze every butterknife you own in a block of ice

Bods!!! So, so good!!! I know I completely skipped over Isaac and Lindsey and the kids and everything, but this was already, like, five pages long and that particular scene sends me into such a state of elation that I can’t articulate a coherent thought at the moment. I am so happy that I had the time and ability to read this chapter as soon as it came out, and I thank you once again for sharing your genius ideas and beautiful writing skills!! It made my whole week, and I just cannot get over how talented you are :)

[freakingoutthesquares]

Pulp Words: Siân Pattenden Taken from Select Magazine, October 1994 Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

Russell Senior is the guitarist with "mad, staring eyes" and an interesting sideline in violin-playing with Pulp. He lives in Sheffield with his girlfriend and two children in a Coronation Street-style abode with a "certiflable lunatic" over the road who throws stones at his window. He is having a problem getting rid of the Artex that swamps the walls of the house at the moment, and has just finished painting the bathroom.

COCKTAIL SHAKER "I've always liked the idea of it, but only recently have I been able to afford to do it. The idea of sophistication like in a James Bond movie. It's just civilised values. Particularly in Sheffield, there's a tendency for things to turn into a Hogarthian nightmare. All these lairy people wandering about. It's for people like me to keep a stiff upper lip."

SUNGLASSES "I have so many. It started a few years ago in France. I wore these sunglasses, and afterwards in a nightclub loads of French people offered me money for them. I thought, Here's a way to earn money. So I bought loads of pairs and wandered around waiting for people to buy them. They didn't. Also, I've got these mad staring eyes. At concerts people'd be dancing, but there'd be a pool of emptiness in front of me, with people looking terrified. I started wearing sunglasses so I wouldn't disconcert people."

SOPHIE "She's my daughter, she's six. She's very into the macabre, Egyptology, vampires, things like that. Her favourite book is the Tibetan Book Of The Dead. Her teachers must think we're Satanists or something, because I see her school books and it's all drawings of vampires and stuff like that. I quite like horror films and horror books, but it's mainly her interest. She wants 'em."

JACKET "It's my own and I have worn it, but I wouldn't wear it to do the gardening. I got it from the cat shelter at the top of our road - a charity shop, not a place for beleaguered cats. I think originally it was the jacket that the mayor of a small American town owned."

GLASSES "These are from East Germany. I bought dozens of boxes of these in a car boot sale and they're the only ones left because they're so fragile. They're amazing, the kind of thing that would be in Modesty Blaise. They're completely impractical, which isn't really me. I like everything to be functional. I only use drinking glasses that are not made this century. It's tacky, new glass. I don't like tack and I don't really like the '70s either."

LAMP "You know lava lamps? I used to sell them. That's very Pulp, innit? That's a glitter one. The thing about your lava lamp is they take an hour to warm up, and they're good to look at but the light they give out isn't terribly interesting. Whereas the glitter ones give out a nice warm light. That's from my dealing days - kitch value that is, but I use it."

TREASURE CHEST "About three years ago Sophie found a large golden key in a wood near us, and recently she found a bottle with a map. We found this old tunnel from the map, and we came across this treasure chest. It's true. It had brass candlesticks in it, rum, spices, amber, old books in Latin, Roman coins - treasure. It was worth nothing individually, but accumulatively... it was everywhere the glint of gold. It's here to stand for the fact that I'm the treasurer of the abode, which means doing things like doing the books."

WALLPAPER "It's fairly neutral. The main thing in this house is getting round the Artex in the other rooms. I regard Artex as an affront to civilised values, a deeply cynical form of decorating. To me it's the epitome of bad taste, I try to avoid it."

CHESS "I play on tour. Touring is 90 per cent intensely boring, and there's always a tendency to do the most mind-numbing things - to be surrounded by screwed-up cans of lager, play Nintendo and have three kinds of music all playing at the same time. It's terrible. Whereas chess perks the mind up. I'm not a good player but it's one of those civilised things."

STEREO CABINET "I don't think it looks very nice. It's OK, but you've got to put it on all the black hifi stand stuff. I've got a thing about keeping any sort of reference to music out of the mainstream of my life. You won't see any Pulp posters in my house. I don't listen to our records."

MUSHROOMS "I use them in cooking, I pick them to eat them. I learnt about them from books. I had this chart with mushrooms on, I saw all these exotic things you could find in the woods. Fungi is an amazing world, but there's a certain snobbery involved - it's just an excuse to charge exorbitant prices for a meal. Most of them aren't as nice as ordinary mushrooms from a shop. That's the truth, as someone who's tried most of them. The best? A shaggy parasol is probably the finest."

HERBS "I like having all the herbs and spices there are, every nut in existence, every seaweed. I like going to shops to buy a nice vegetable or piece of meat, and come home and think, What are we going to do with you then? I like having every possible cuisine available to me. That choice. If I was going to live in London it would be because you can't get fresh basil in Sheffield."

RECORDS "I don't listen to that much, but I'd listen to Wagner and Bach quite a lot. The Rolling Stones are probably my favourite classic rock band. (Confidentially) I have listened to The Auteurs a bit, that's my concession to the '90s. It doesn't play a large part in my life music, at home."

SUNGLASSES STAND "Plastic and fluorescent, maybe luminous. I wouldn't have that kind of rubbish in my living room ordinarily, it's my one token Pulp thing. If you're going to say Pulp is all about '70s-ness and kitschness, well, it's one media perception that isn't me. There are other elements to Pulp of which I'm one."

VIOLIN BOW "To represent my amazing violin playing in the group, such as it is. My violin's at the practice room. No, I don't play it round the house to amuse the kids."

Kitten.

[dragonmuse]

I posted 1,731 times in 2022

That's 1,657 more posts than 2021!

1,000 posts created (58%)

731 posts reblogged (42%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lostanxiousfool

@forpiratereasons

@dragonmuse

@brigdh

@whose-modern-au-is-this

I tagged 1,291 of my posts in 2022

Only 25% of my posts had no tags

#ofmd fanart - 397 posts

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Longest Tag: 133 characters

#doug and ed constantly showing up for dates at the same time and actually just become friends because they spend so much time waiting

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

@greenapricot and@thehobbitbadgerasked for resolution on Alma’s favor in the last bit of 'wake myself in the shadows'. There are some CWS for this one which are also spoilers, so they're in the tags, scroll to view them first if you have any concerns. Not out to jump scare anyone!

Alma: I need that ride. 

Izzy: when? 

Alma: Tuesday at 2pm 

Izzy: where am I picking you up? 

Alma: I’ll come to you.

She arrived in sweatpants and a sweatshirt that had a Southern State logo crumbling off it. No makeup. Instead of her usual little purse, she carried a tote bag. It was deeply disconcerting.

Izzy, as promised, did not ask. 

“Want anything before we go?”

“No. I’ve got the address.” 

In the car, she plugged her phone in, put her GPS on the screen then started a throbbing playlist that drowned out all possible conversation. Izzy followed the directions and kept his eyes on the road. A half hour later, he made the final turn and she abruptly stopped the music.

“I might be there a while. You can drop me off. I’ll text when I’m ready.” 

“Fuck that,” he found a parking spot. “I’ll wait with you.”

“No, I…” Alma looked at the unassuming office building. “I can do it on my own.”

“So fucking what? You think they’re handing out medals for that?”

“But-“ she started then stopped. “Okay. Yeah. I’m…I’m maybe a little freaked out.” 

“Let’s go then.” 

Inside it was just a very practical doctor’s office. Everything in shades of brown and tan. Alma gave her information at the desk then came to sit next to him in the waiting area. 

“I won’t tell him,” Izzy told her, flipping through a magazine he wasn’t reading. 

“I might,” she rested her head in his shoulder, “but not today.” 

They had to wait a long time. Alma took his magazine and Izzy did Sudoku on his phone until her name was called. She got to her feet, squared her shoulders and disappeared through a door. 

Izzy was good at waiting. He took slow even breaths and let teh time wash over him.

Not even forty-five minutes later, she shuffled back out, looking even paler than usual. 

“Done?”

“Done,” she gave him a slight smile. “Get me out of here, it smells like a canister of cheap air freshener came all over a bottle of antiseptic.”

“Vivid and fucking accurate. Let’s go.” 

She didn’t punch the music this time, even let him use his own phone. 

“I thought I might be upset,” she said, settling into the seat. “But I am so goddamn relieved, I could cry.” 

“Not surprised. If you didn’t want it.”

See the full post

64 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

#4

Whats the bravest thing lucius has gotten into izzys closest and that he’s actually worn

(I started so many racy ideas here then realized that none of that would get to Izzy more than this) 

He was folding his laundry when he found it. Lucius liked to do that sometimes, stuff something unexpected into the hamper for Izzy to find later like a particularly devious squirrel. There had been some wild shit, including a pair of underwear that Izzy still couldn’t look at unless he wanted to throw off his whole morning schedule. 

This was something else. It was simple enough. Just a black tank top, the kind he wore to go to the gym or run. Except on the chest where a small embroidered logo might go, there was a rainbow. A flag. 

Izzy sat down hard on the bed, holding it in his hands. It wasn’t ostentatious. It was as subtle as a vibrant rainbow could be. But it was saying something. It was announcing something. He rubbed the material between his fingers. It was soft, probably comfortable.  

He folded it and set it on top of his other workout clothes, then pressed the entire pile into a drawer and closed it firmly. Unfortunately, that didn’t close off the thought of it. 

Could he just do that?  

Lucius would. Lucius wore his sexuality like a badge of pride. He dared people to make something of it. It was bravery that Izzy had learned to respect and now, to envy. Before he’d lost Eddy, before his world had shifted so hard on its axis that he no longer recognized it, Izzy had thought he was brave. 

Now he suspected he’d just been a bit dead inside. 

Lucius didn’t bring up the tank top next time he was over. Most of the time he liked to cajole Izzy into his choices, or outright order him which only made it better, but there was a silent agreement that this could not be one of those times. 

There had to just be a day. An ordinary enough day when he was going to the gym and then the grocery store. Nowhere he’d ever felt uncomfortable. It was hot which helped. The kind of summer day when you knew it was going to be boiling by noon just from the heave of the air conditioner. 

He pulled it on and gave his reflection a quick look. He hadn’t changed. It was only a tiny blotch of color.  

The gym was just down the street. He preferred to get his miles in at home, but he didn’t have room for an entire weight setup, so a few times a week he burned an hour or two there. He’d gotten a little lax for awhile, but now there was Jim to keep up with. Not to mention the way Lucius showed his appreciation for a little hard work. 

There was barely anyone out yet, and he walked into the gym without seeing another person. Inside, it was fairly quiet, too early on a weekend day to be crowded. He got in most of his lifting with only a few other familiar faces around him. None of them paid him any mind, too focused on their own workout. 

Just when he was on his last rep on the leg press, Probably A Fucking Cop walked by. Izzy had noticed him enough to mentally tag him. He was closer to Izzy’s age, steel gray hair cut short in a way that screamed law enforcement. They were often here at the same time, but Izzy never talked to anyone and Probably A Fucking Cop didn’t either. 

Except today as he went to pass by, he slowed down. His eyes flicked to the shirt and then, to Izzy’s intense shock, Probably A Fucking Cop checked him out. It wasn’t even subtle, the dragging gaze and the speculative look. 

Their eyes met and Probably A Fucking Cop’s head tilted ever so slightly. The least possible effort into invitation. 

Izzy did fifteen more reps, eyes glued to the tips of his sneakers until he was absolutely positive the guy had moved the fuck on. Jesus fucking fuck. 

“What the fuck do I do with that?” Izzy demanded when he explained the whole thing to Lucius. They were in the bathroom, Lucius showering off the workday. Izzy had just followed him in to rant and Lucius had let him, closing the curtain between them with a wink. 

“You know what I’d do with it,” Lucius laughed. 

“Yeah, I’m not fucking a cop in a public changing room,” Izzy rolled his eyes. 

“Which is why I have more fun than you,” Lucius teased. They both knew that Izzy’s traitorously loyal heart could not deal with fucking someone else, no matter how much else he'd changed. “But Iz, it’s okay just to take it as a compliment and move on.” 

“I’ve never been made like that,” he admitted. 

“I bet you have.” The curtain rustled, Lucius reaching for the soap. “And you just didn’t know it.” 

“How?” he frowned. “I get why it happened wearing that thing but-” 

“I’ve watched it happen to you,” Lucius cut him off. 

“So people just know?”  What a fucking disturbing thought. 

“It’s not like you wear a neon sign or anything. Some people can just sort of tell by the way you look at them or the vibe.” 

“Are you saying people are hitting on me and I don’t fucking notice?”  

“Yeah, goblin,” Lucius was clearly tickled by the idea. “That guy at the camera shop that you always talk about lenses with. Allen?” 

See the full post

67 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

#3

76 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

#2

...this one is long y'all. It's going to go straight to an AO3 posting, I think and it'll get it's own story because even if no one ever asks about it on it's own, I think it's got the gams to stand alone.

WHO KNEW?!

86 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I'm just saying, what's the point of writing fanfic at all if it doesn't make me laugh at all my own jokes, then cackle like a supervillain at at all the delicious feelings I'm cooking?

146 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[unpossession]

Attendance  at   the  will  reading  was  scarce;    Willow was not surprised to find, sitting amongst the rows of empty seats with one leg crossed over the other, picking at a loose thread in her tights, that aside from herself only three people showed up. Of the three people in the room with Willow, two were lawyers. So really, those who stood to inherit anything at all was whittled down to two:   Willow, and her cousin, Hugo. Their large family used to be so tight-knit, but death after untimely death seems to have thinned the herd to near extinction. Old grudges, too, have had that effect. In fact, if Willow didn’t have to be here she might have skipped the whole thing entirely herself, being estranged from those she was about to inherit her whole life from. 

Charlie initially insisted on joining Willow for support, which was sweet, but her indifference on the topic of her visit unnerved them enough to withdraw the offer when Willow gave them a chance. Charlie had seen this kind of denial before, and the blank look in Willow’s eyes only meant that the more meddling that went on, the more annoyed she would become. The more likely she was going to lash out at any given moment. Willow notoriously needs her space in this country, it’s a very different story with those she has befriended lately. She doesn’t like to be known the way that Charlie knows her. Knew her. It’s fucking embarrassing, to be frank, for someone to remember what she was like before the book. Before everything, not that Willow likes either version of herself too much. 

...But these were thoughts for the taxi there. In the room, Willow was only thinking of one thing: Getting the fuck out of it. 

Because of the small turnout, it meant that the attendees were forced into conversation. Willow had purposely, prior to this, avoided Hugo at all costs. To be alone with him now and feeling his sadness weigh heavier than her own, was near unbearable, with his probing questions and the glare in his eyes that let her know he was reading her the way he used to when she was younger. 

Hugo was like a brother to Willow at one point. Incredibly close with her father and always locking her in the old dumbwaiter in his parent’s house when she visited, banging on the door pretending that she was trapped forever, doomed to a short and cramped and starved existence until one of the adults noticed she was gone. As Hugo got older, he became less interested in her, more interested in his music; he’d discovered the secret to score-writing, absorbed wholly with the process of sound, of emotion. He’d discovered what Willow has always struggled to see about herself. That they were gifted.

Hugo, ever the academic, was a quick study. When he realised he could feel the emotions of those around him, he was fast in understanding that he could also manipulate them. It bothered him what Willow never acknowledged that they could do the same, and eventually as she matured and allowed herself to be ruled by feeling, they drifted further apart. Playful jabs at one another became laced with actual malice. Their relationship deteriorated even further after her book was published. 

Still, they’re family, and he’s all she has left now. They both are.

             “Hey,”          He was never any good at dealing with Willow when she was upset, though. Her feelings were too big, ever present. Standing behind her now, a warm hand on her shoulder, he’s unsettled by the lack of anything at all coming off of her. Melancholy usually rolls off of her in waves. Even more disconcerting is the glassy look in her eyes as she turns, the shell-shock pallor of her face is nothing new, but the void where her eyes used to be... He searches for something behind them, anything... And comes up blank.  Hugo pulls her into a hug. The first time they’ve embraced since they were children.       “I’m sorry. I’ve tried calling you. I didn’t know if you were coming.” 

           “Hi...”       Willow’s voice is strange, she returns the hug tightly but remains guarded. Stunted. She feels frail in his arms.       “I decided last minute.”

Nothing about the missed calls, then. He assumes they were intentional. Silence falls over them, and continues even after they part. Willow has nothing to say, and for the first time in a long time, Hugo can’t think of anything either. They return to their seats. This time, Hugo takes the chair beside her.

           “Where are you staying?”      It’s not what he wants to ask, but he doesn’t want to rattle her. Not today.  

           “Charlie’s.”  

           “You two are still friends? I thought...”  

           “They forgave me,”          Willow answers him with her usual deadpan tone. It begins to worry him. Talking to her has never been so difficult, even when... He watches her straighten the ribbon around her neck, something he used to tease her about.           “They know I was... I wasn’t right in the head, back then.” 

Looking at her now, Hugo doubts that she’s right in the head. How can she be? To flee the country and only return for this. 

         “You didn’t come to the funeral.”        

         “I couldn’t.” 

         “You could have. You just--” 

         “I couldn’t.”    She warns him not to continue this line of questioning with a glare, anger rolls off of her and quickly dampens when she catches it herself. Hugo thinks for a moment he even sees tears in her eyes. 

         “It was a beautiful ceremony. You should have---” 

         “It was two empty coffins. I didn’t miss--”     It’s not like Willow to be this callous. Hugo leans away from her, looking wounded.

          “Willow,”    He doesn’t feel any guilt coming off of her at all. It worries him. He puts his hand over her own, resting on her knee.     “You know that’s not the point. The point is closure, the point is that--”            “Hugo, I couldn’t,”        Trembling now, she turns to him fully. There’s nothing behind her eyes. He’d be proud, if this wasn’t the worst time imaginable to discover the ability to disconnect. It frightens him that she isn’t sad, that she isn’t guilt-ridden and suffering, that he can’t play the role that he wants to play for her. Maybe it was stupid, but he wanted to be here for her. Reconcile. She’s making it clear that she doesn’t need him. As if she can read his mind, she elaborates:        “I’m sorry. I couldn’t be here. It wasn’t-- it wasn’t an option. And I’m sorry. Everyone is expecting me to cry and crumble and I just-- that’s not an option either. I’m sorry.” 

          “Right. Okay,”           Hugo squeezes her hand. She remains cold under his touch. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t feel. He begins to feel sick, being around her, but he wont be the one to leave her entirely alone. Hugo tries a different approach, his voice hushed.      “I’m thinking of moving to LA. We could be a little closer...” 

        “Don’t do that on my account, you love it here.”     Willow looks ahead, staring down the lawyers, talking amongst themselves. She wants to leave. She wants to get this done. 

        “Money’s better. I could do more projects... Meet your new friends. Can I visit? Can I at least do that?”            Hugo asks, and Willow has to give him credit; this is the most he’s admitted to caring about her in a decade.             

       “I don’t have a spare room.”  

       “That’s not what I’m asking.” 

       “They don’t know.”      A pang of guilt comes off of Willow, then mellows out. Suppressed. He’s sure she’s doing it on purpose. 

       “Don’t know what?” 

       “Any of this.”          Willow’s voice is clipped, uncomfortable.

       “Any of..?”        It takes him a few seconds to understand, and when he does, his worries double, triple, quadruple. He leans in, but Willow insists on looking straight ahead. She takes her hand away from him, she pulls her hair around her neck and hunches her shoulders. Cringing away from him.   “Willow--” 

He’s horrified, mostly because Willow has never been one to hide her sorrow. Often crying in public, lamenting in her journals, sighing deeply into bus windows. She has never been secretive about her suffering. If the people that are living with her don’t even know what’s going on, her friends, her new family ---  She’s changed, and he thinks not for the better. The woman sitting beside him now, cold, far-away from herself, is not his cousin. She’s not the kid that he grew up with. She’s a husk --- 

He’s about to write her off, but the dam breaks suddenly, quickly. Shame. Heavy, hot. Permeating the room. Her tears collect beneath her chin. He knows, suddenly, that she is afraid to move. Afraid to feel. Hugo watches her, waiting. Coaxing her to feel a little more, manipulating... Share, Willow. Share.

       “They wouldn’t look at me the same,”         Willow sniffles, dabbing at her tears with the back of her hand.          “I-- I’d be too much. Like before.” 

Hugo holds her hand again. This time, she squeezes his fingers hard enough to turn them white. Then, as soon as she’s given a breather, she closes the tap. She turns it off. She steels herself in time to hear from the lawyers her bounty, the reward for being orphaned:  Her childhood home; her father’s car; her mother’s jewelry; the old house that ruined her life; the money. 

                  “I don’t want any of it,”     She confided in Hugo.          “I don’t deserve it.” 

She surrendered the car and the houses to Hugo before leaving.

[vitaminwaterreviews]

IU - Modern Times

Let’s start off with the average because I want to see how this compares to Pink Tape. Average of 8.4 both with and without Voicemail. Pink Tape was 8.3, but it’s actually 10. But yeah, by the average quality of the songs, this was definitely the best kpop album I’ve ever listened to, there is no doubt about that.

First, I’m amazed by the quality of the production. Everything was so clean - the vocals, the instrumentals, just absolutely gorgeous production. SM in 2013 was still faffing around with whatever their old sound used to be, meanwhile Loen was not fucking around with IU’s music. And speaking of instrumentals, the genre choice was brilliant. Who would’ve thought that this 20 year old girl would be able to pull off jazz so well? Maybe I need to do an IU deep dive to see what her earlier stuff was like.

The features were fantastic, too. I was super impressed by the talent of Choi Baek-ho and Yang Hee-eun, neither of whom I’d heard of before, both of whom are absolutely incredible singers. But more importantly, they fit their respective songs so well! Hearing IU harmonize with such great vocalists was definitely one of the highlights of the album. The Jonghyun feature wasn’t as vocally demanding, but it was still such a pretty song. I didn’t even realize that Gain was a separate vocalist until I checked the credits; maybe that’s a good thing, because it means their vocals blended well? Either way, it happened to be on my least favorite song on the album, so she was kind of screwed over there.

This album wasn’t an experience in the same way that Pink Tape was, but it was full of some ridiculously high-quality songs. It certainly made me appreciate IU as a vocalist even more than I already did. I’m so glad I finally got around to this album.

Love IU’s music so much, but I only know a few songs! So let’s give this one a listen, I hear it’s pretty good.

Love of B

Haha what

Okay, I think I’m on board with this sound

It sounds very … tavern

I can’t tell if she actually sounds younger or if I’m just imagining it

This song is super stripped back. Her vocals are super super clean, no doubling or harmonies or effects. Kind of a bold choice

Love the scatting

Haha that outro

9/10

Everybody has secrets

Oh okay, now we’re all quiet and sultry

It’s a lot faster, more upbeat

Super latin

This style of percussion and the violins, honestly not a sound I’ve always enjoyed

7/10, it’s a Good song, not totally my type

Between the lips (50cm)

Now we’re like, classy restaurant jazz

Haha this is super sensual, I think I like it

Wow that was Such a cool moment

Super intense and now we’re quiet again

8/10

The Red Shoes

MV time

EIGHT MINUTES?? Welp, here we go, impress me

Moody piano, moody scenes

Who’s this filmmaking gentleman, I wonder?

Is that IU? Jesus she looks like a kid

Nah, just younger than I’m used to seeing her

Haha okay, proper big band vibes here

oMG she outs on the red shoes and now its all Colorful

It is genuinely disconcerting how young she looks though. Kinda like … Jessica? Nayeon? I dunno

Why does this kind of remind me of the Lilac MV?

Yo the shoes themselves are dancing that’s wild dude

I dunno if i buy the song itself tbh, it feels kind of-

She looked EXAcTLY like Jessica right there for a second lol

Haha the shoes are making her dance, that’s such a cool effect actually

Great acting on her part

Yo are they gonna make her jump?

Oh no they’re just gonna make her disappear into the black and white world of film again

Lol a credits roll? I mean fair enough, this was a Proper MV with a plot and actors and shit

They credited MR SHOES haha

9/10, the song was alright but the MV was SO excellent, what a fun experience. One of my all time favorite MV’s, no doubt

Modern Times

This is the literal title track, but it is not the title track

Oh my god the clarinet

The background harmonies

This album is actually SO good, like the default sound of this album is so good

It sounds like a person from the 1940s’ conception of Modern Times haha

Or maybe just someone from Paris

Haha the background vocals are so cute

Why do I feel like this part should be in cut time?

8/10, solid song, the background vocals are so good

Bad Day

Ballad time?

Lyrics and music by IU, that’s neat

Super super simple so far, just piano and vocals

Here’s a violin

Here’s something lower than a violin

Is there a woodwind back there? Hard to hear

And now the beat comes in

Wow this is actually Super good

Her voice is so pretty

Wow, this song is all over the place and I really appreciate that

9/10, really really good song. I won’t listen to it much but What a good song

Obliviate

Like the Harry Potter spell?

Electric piano

Super Latin

Actually this whole album feels like music we’d play in Jazz band haha

Dude this horn riff is popping off

Does it sound like she’s saying “Maria” to anyone else here?

9/10 wtf dude

Walk with Me, Girl

Oh he’s a SINGER alright then

This is so good, I’m laughing. Kinda like Toy in Pink Tape haha

Not crying yet though

I know I’m not typing much, it’s because I’m vibing too hard

9/10, what a talented vocalist

Havana

Strings, are we classical now?

Nope, no we aren’t

Her voice is so good

Kinda getting Disney vibes from this for some reason?

What are they singing here? Spotify just has an eighth note

8/10

A Gloomy Clock

Jonghyun, you’re our inspiration~

This doesn’t feel nearly as jazzy, that synth is kinda messing with the vibe for me

Mmm but now that it’s a duet and the synth is gone it’s way prettier

Oh my god Jonghyun’s background vocals are everything

8/10

Daydream

Oh my god her voice, who IS this

Why did kpop just stop being interesting?

The duet here is SO pretty wow

8/10

Wait

And now we’re fast again

I vibe with this, this is an interlude? An outro? Not sure which one it is, because there’s also a bonus track

Oh she does sing, that’s neat

9/10

Voice Mail (Korean Ver.)

I certainly don’t know the Japanese version so I guess I’ll listen to this too

The vibe of this song is Totally different to the rest of the album haha

That guitar is so electric

This feels more like a ballad and less like a jazz ballad

Mmm nice and warm tones now

Well, nobody can ever say IU is a bad vocalist, her “ah”s are so good

8/10 I guess, not my favorite but she’s just So good