#but i didn’t want to fully lose the sound of the waves so

[dragestil]

if i should fall on that day / i only pray, don’t fall away from me

🎵 “i, carrion (icarian)” by hozier

📍 bray, ie

[just-jordie-things]

national anthem - gojo satoru

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 12.2k warnings: mentions of drinking and smoking (cigarettes + weed) summary: you're a special grade? with no life experience? someone like you sure is lucky gojo satoru wants to take you under his wing and show you how to enjoy life. gojo satoru sure is lucky that someone like you teaches him how to love. more info: set in 2006, friends to lovers, gojo sort of wants to corrupt reader but he's too soft on her, he's an overconfident coward in this idk you figure it out

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[ i’m your national anthem, god you’re so handsome, take me to the hamptons, bugatti, veyron // he loves to romance ‘em reckless abandon, holding me for ransom, upper echelon // he says to be cool but, i don’t know how yet // wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck ]

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Two Special Grade Sorcerers in one place was already a fight for territory and ego- at least to Gojo Satoru.  Geto Suguru never really felt a push to prove himself, but his white haired counterpart seemed to enjoy a good ol’ fashion pissing competition, so when Satoru felt like being competitive, he often just went along with it.  Besides, there was a certain entertainment in watching him lose.  Satoru would tell anyone that he didn’t feel threatened around Suguru- or Yuki, when she was around- but there was an undeniable flicker of excitement in his eye when an opportunity came along to show off.

A show off, that was the perfect description for the first impression (y/n) got when she first met the infamous Six Eyes.  She wasn’t sure what to expect arriving at Jujutsu Tech on that sunny afternoon in 2006.  The mixture of giddiness and unease from picking everything up and starting life over at the ripe age of eighteen had her insides all fluttery, but she was fairly certain her excitement outweighed all else.

The manager who’d picked her up from the train station and drove her to her new home had given her a short introduction to the other sorcerers her age, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the whirlwind of their first official meeting.

“So you’re the new Special Grade meat!” 

She’s startled as soon as she approaches the group of three.  She’d been all smiles, ready to hold out her hand and introduce herself properly, but it appeared they’d already known all about her.

“Shut up Satoru, you sound like a douchebag,” The dark haired sorcerer beside the loud one shouldered past, reaching out to be the first to shake her hand.  (y/n) still has a bewildered look on her face as she reciprocates, confusedly glancing between the two.  “Don’t mind him, he’s always like that.  I’m Geto, but everyone calls me Suguru anyways, so you can too” 

“Alright,” She says through an airy laugh.  “Then I’m (y/n)... the Special Grade meat”

Suguru shares the laugh as he drops his hand, and suddenly the white haired one is darting forward, pushing him aside just as he’d done to him moments ago, and grabbing (y/n’s) hand before she could fully lower it.  Her eyes are wide, every instinct telling her to take three steps back, but she lets him shake it at a wild pace.  

The cursed energy that comes off of him in waves hits her like a truck, solid, undeniable, strength.  Reason tells her that he could end her life with his handshake alone.  The goofy, shit eating grin on his face tells her otherwise.

“Gojo Satoru!” He introduces, still shaking her hand.  “But you already knew that, right?” 

Wordlessly, she shakes her head at him, curiosity striking her the longer she took him in.  A show off for sure, with the volume of his voice despite being right in front of her, with the performance in his ongoing handshake, with that stupid smile he hadn’t wiped off his face yet, with all that cursed energy- Gojo Satoru was a sight to behold and he knew it, too.

Back home it would’ve ticked her off, but for some reason, there’s a compulsion to her amusement in him.  Slowly, her bewildered expression morphs into one of pleasant surprise.

“Can’t say I had the slightest idea,” She replies, and that seems to do the trick to get his smile to falter, even momentarily.  Technically, she knew of him, only because of the manager’s due diligence in giving her the names of her new colleagues, but she wasn’t about to treat him to that information.  “But I do now,” Her smile brightens, “You’re the guy with the white hair” 

He scoffs at first, not out of disgust or annoyance, but pure surprise at the genuine response.  The two behind him, Suguru, and the girl she hadn’t met quite yet, Ieiri Shoko, were nearly doubled over in laughter.  Loud cackles that echoed across the courtyard they stood in.  (y/n) merely held her polite smile as she waited for Gojo Satoru’s full reaction.

His shit eating grin softened into a more authentic smile, amusement casted over his features as he gazed down at her through his lenses.  He didn’t need his Six Eyes to tell him she was strong, her own cursed energy seemed to buzz and crackle right off of her like electricity.  As if she’d been gathering up static for so long and it was dying to leap right out of her.  It would be overwhelming, if he wasn’t the sorcerer he was.

“Always noticed for my looks first,” He sighs dramatically, and (y/n) raises a brow at him, slightly amused, slightly intrigued.  “But I guess we’ll have that in common, huh, Special Grade?”

Before she’s given any real time to react, or even process what he’s said, he’s interrupted. 

“Alright, that’s enough of you, you’re making us all look bad now,” 

The third sorcerer with the lab coat and an unlit cigarette in her hands is the next to leap forward, grabbing Gojo Satoru by the elbow and forcibly yanking until he gives in and drags his feet back to Suguru.  (y/n) watches as he mutters under his breath and makes wild hand gestures to Suguru- who seems to roll his eyes and remain otherwise unresponsive.

“You won’t get used to him, so get used to knowing that now,” The girl says, capturing (y/n’s) attention.  “I’m Shoko, I’ll be your best friend here, alright? Don’t let him get too comfortable” 

(y/n) giggles, introducing herself yet again with a shy fit of laughter.

“Seems like he gets comfortable pretty quick,” She muses, casting a glance over to where Suguru was trying to drag his friend away.  He didn’t seem to be winning that fight, and it wasn’t long before Gojo was going boneless against him.  “So, small class size, huh?” 

“Yeah, well, not a lot of jujutsu sorcerers out there,” Shoko shrugs.  “And… we had a few transfers to Kyoto.  Which were totally not due to that idiot” She adds the second part under her breath, but when (y/n) laughs, she does too.

“Well, I’ll try not to transfer, then” 

Shoko brightens, just a little bit, but enough to be noticed.

(y/n’s) sure she’ll stay true to her word.  Besides, it had seemed like her time at Jujustu Tech would prove to be interesting… maybe even fun.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The smell of tobacco wasn’t pleasant, but she tries to put up with it for the sake of Suguru and Shoko.  It appeared that the most exciting part of their night was sharing a smoke by Shoko’s window, as they’d visibly relaxed once they’d sparked up.

It didn't matter that (y/n) didn’t voice her discomfort, because Gojo Satoru could see it written all over her.  The way her eyes widened when Shoko had pulled out the pack, the way her nose crinkled when Suguru lit the first cig, and even now, how she can’t stop anxiously glancing over to the two of them as they smoked.

“You’re not a smoker, huh?” 

She’d been sitting against the wall, a mostly forgotten magazine in her lap when Gojo had approached her, crouching down to her level to properly gain her attention.

“Huh?” She’s lost at first, but it only takes a short nod of his head towards the window for her mind to catch up.  “Oh, um, I guess I’ve never really smoked before, but, no, I’m not a smoker”

It’s unexplainable, the way she stammers over her explanation like it’s a lie.  Because it’s the complete truth.  She’d never smoked a cigarette in her life, and she’d never been around anyone who did.  The smell was only familiar because of how often it wafted amongst the streets, but it was always unpleasant.  Trying it for herself had never really crossed her mind.

“You’ve never tried it?” Gojo tilts his head curiously, and for a moment she thinks he resembles a cat, but before she could tell him the connection, he’s standing up again and striding over to the window.

She can only watch as he swipes the pack of cigarettes from between the two, scowling when he pops open the box.

“Did you buy this yesterday?” He scoffs, plucking out one of the sticks before tossing it back at Suguru, who catches it with ease, but frowns back at the white haired sorcerer.  “Jeez, addicts much?” 

“Relax, Satoru” Suguru rolls his eyes just as Gojo snatches the lighter off the windowsill as well.  It earns him another glare, but neither Suguru or Shoko comment on it, instead returning to whatever conversation they’d been having before Gojo had so rudely interrupted them.

It’s not until he’s returning to her spot on the floor and taking a seat beside her that she realizes why he’s done this.

“Here ya are,” He grins, holding the items out to her in both hands.  (y/n’s) eyes wander between the two, the cancer stick in his left hand, the hot pink lighter in his right, before looking up at him and shaking her head.  “What, you don’t wanna try it?”

“I just… I mean…” She struggles to give him a proper reason.  She doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, because she couldn’t care less what other people chose to do, but she wasn’t about to lie to him and say she was ecstatic to get a taste of the thing she knows is bad for her.  “I don’t think I’d like it…” 

“Well, that’s alright,” Gojo chuckles as he shrugs his shoulders.  “I hate it.  It’s nasty,” 

He goes so far as to stick his tongue out towards the window, where Shoko had clearly overheard his less-than-quiet comment.  She returns the favor, but Gojo’s already turned back to (y/n).

“It reeks.  And it burns a bit.  And honestly? I’d rather spend the money on mochi,” He tells her honestly, and it earns him a giggle, so he smiles a little wider.  “But you deserve to at least try it, right?” He asks, wiggling the lighter at her.  “Just to say you did it?” 

“I’m not really wired that way,” She admits, her laughter turning nervous, but nonetheless, she finds herself plucking the lighter from his fingers.  “Why try something I know I’ll hate?” She asks, and generally, it’s a rhetorical question, but Gojo’s answer does have her curious.

“Because,” He shrugs again.  “Trying new things is the fun part,” He suggests, before adding, “And just because you can” 

Her eyes drift down to the pink lighter in her hand.  She rolls it over between her fingers a few times, fiddling with it as the idea settles in her mind.  She gets lost enough in thought that she doesn’t even realize how fluidly she’s twirling the small object between her fingers like it was a trick of misdirection, but Gojo finds amusement in how easily and quickly she’s able to maneuver it about the back of her knuckles.

“I can’t say I have an argument for that,” She tells him finally, turning to him with a small smile, and her hand outstretched.  “But when I hate it, you can’t be mad” 

He doesn’t place the cigarette in her palm like she’s expecting, instead raising it towards her lips, flicking it slightly to prompt her to open her mouth.

“Don’t bite down too hard, you’ll ruin it,” He instructs.  She blinks at him in surprise, but follows along anyways and parts his lips so he could set it between them.  She keeps her hold on it as light as possible.  “And the taste of tobacco is awful,” He adds in a quieter voice.

She tries not to think about how close he sits to her, or how his fingers brush over her bottom lip and then her chin as he places the cigarette between her lips, but the harder she tries not to think about it, the more he thinks about it.

“Want me to light it for you?” He asks, and now he’s the one to hold his palm out to her.

Too nervous to speak with the cig in her mouth, she gives him a small nod, and places the lighter back in his hand.  He grins when her fingers drag over his before she pulls her hand away.

“Alright, don’t overthink it,” He says, leaning forward a little closer with the lighter in hand.  “I’ll light it, and all you gotta do is breathe in.  Not too harsh, just a little inhale, got it?” 

She shrugs and nods, certain she could understand the complexities of smoking a cigarette, but she had a feeling that Gojo Satoru liked knowing what to do, and showing her what to do, so she let him.  It couldn’t hurt, right? If she fed his ego just a little bit? 

With a flick of his thumb a small flame erupts, and soon the end of the cigarette is burning.  Just as he said, she takes in a short breath, just enough to feel the smoke touch her lungs.

Her eyes meet his when he pulls the lighter away, but he stays sitting closely in front of her.  Even through the dark lenses he always kept perched on his nose she could tell that he was eager to watch her reaction.

She rips the stick from her mouth and coughs, and even once all the smoke is expelled, she sticks her tongue out with the desire to rid her mouth of the terrible flavor.  

Gojo chuckles quietly, taking the cigarette from between her fingers as he stands up for a moment.  He’s sitting again just a second later, passing her a bottle of water that she takes and chugs down greedily.  He’s still laughing when he passes the cigarette to the window dwellers.

“So you were right, huh?” He asks her after she’s got half the water down.

She nods back at him, taking a few more gulps to soothe the ache in her chest from her own coughing.

“But at least you tried it?” 

Finally pulling the bottle away, she turns to face him again.  Her brows are pinched together with annoyance, but there’s a flicker of a smile on her lips that Satoru can’t ignore.  It makes his heart beat at a disastrously wild pace. It makes him grin.

“Oh, I’ll be telling everyone you peer pressured me,” She tells him assuredly, to which he scoffs, but before he could argue, she continues.  “But… at least I tried it” 

The momentary defensive stature he’d taken relaxes just as quickly, and he even laughs a bit.

“Atta girl, Special Grade,” He teases.  “That’s the spirit” 

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she picks up her magazine and settles back against the wall in a comfortable position.  Gojo doesn’t have much interest in fashion, but he sits beside her and follows along as she flips through it anyways.  

She supposes it’s because he has no interest in smoking with the others, that this was the better option.  He supposes it’s just because her shampoo smelled so light and fruity that he wouldn’t mind lingering around just a bit longer.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[gojo s.] are you up?? 1:46 a.m.

[y/n] it’s almost 2. 1:47 a.m.

[gojo s.] fast response! so ur wide awake! :D 1:47 a.m.

[gojo s.] put on something warm and come to the window 1:48 a.m.

Gawking at her phone, (y/n’s) sure this is just some kind of stupid joke.  There was no way if she peeked out her window now that Gojo Satoru would be standing out there.  This late at night? On a Tuesday? They had training tomorrow bright and early- and wasn’t there a curfew?

She’s not sure what comes over her when she actually shuffles out of her warm covers and tiptoes over to the window.  Peeking through the curtain just to be sure wouldn’t hurt, right? 

Sure enough, when she pulls the curtain aside just enough to look outside, Gojo Satoru is standing out there.  He must’ve been expecting her to check, because he’s looking straight at her, grinning from ear to ear before he waves.

(y/n) shuts the curtain and snatches her phone off the bed.  Just as she begins to furiously type, she’s getting an incoming call.  With a huff, she answers it and brings the phone to her ear.

“Gojo Satoru, what the hell are you doing outside my-” 

“I knew you’d be down!” He’s shouting before she could finish her scolding, and (y/n) winces as she tilts the speaker of her phone away from her ear to relieve the ringing he’d caused.  “Get dressed and hop on out!” 

“Hop on out-? What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t you wanna go do something fun?” 

“Right now?” She lets out a humorless laugh.  “Gojo, it’s the middle of the night, I’ve been trying to sleep” 

“I can’t sleep either,” He replies, completely missing the point, but it’s only then that she starts to hear him out.  “I need a midnight snack,” He adds, this time his voice filled with it’s usual syrupy level of glee.  “I’m sure it’d help you, too!” 

It’s a ridiculous idea.  She had training in about five hours from now, and so far tonight she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.  Gojo Satoru might’ve been all powerful, but that didn’t mean he had power over her, he couldn’t just make her go because he wanted a snack and company to go along with it.  It would be incredibly easy to tell him no and hang up the phone, and it would keep her out of trouble, too.  A double win.

Yet, she’s at her dresser and pulling off her pajamas before she’s even given him a verbal response.

“I hear movement, are you getting dressed?” He asked her, full of hope and excitement.

“Yes,” She huffs as she gets into her uniform slacks.  They were the only pants she owned that weren’t pajamas- and there was no way she was going out in the middle of the night with Gojo Satoru in hello kitty pajamas.

After throwing her jacket over her tee shirt and buttoning it up enough, she crept back over to her window, pulling open the curtains properly, her phone still in her hand.

“Oh good-!” 

Before he could finish whatever he was saying, she snaps her phone shut and slides it into her back pocket.  She needed both hands to slide the window open, at least if she wanted to do it carefully enough that it didn’t creak and squeak when she did so.

Even from a story below, she can tell that Gojo is pouting at his own phone before he puts it away.  He seems to get over it once she’s got her window open and she’s swinging a leg out, though.

“Come on down, Juliet, I’ll catch you!” He hollers, louder than he should have.

(y/n) swings her other leg out, sitting on the window sill almost completely leaning out of the building.

“Move out of the way, Gojo” She hisses down at him, but he only extends his arms, waving his fingers at her to prompt her to come down already.

He’d been pacing around out here for the last forty-five minutes debating on texting her, so he was antsy to finally get going.

Giving up, (y/n) pushed off the window sill, and landed on her feet with ease and perfect balance seconds later.  She certainly didn’t need him to catch her, but he’s right in front of her anyways, hands settling on her shoulders as if she wasn’t standing before him in perfect condition.

“Good?” He asks, and he’s still grinning ear to ear, but it’s a little different.

She’s not sure how she didn’t notice before, but he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.  She could see the crinkles at the corners of his bright blue eyes when he smiled.  For a half a second, she could’ve gotten lost in the cerulean waves swirling in his irises.  His eyes were bright even in the dark, they practically gave the illusion of glowing.

“Yeah- yeah,” She chokes on her answer, and quickly averts her gaze before he could tease her for staring at him so blatantly.  “Let’s just get going, I don’t want to get caught” 

“I’d never get us caught,” Gojo scoffs, apparently offended that she could even think such a thing.  “Besides, you’ve got a clean track record, you’d probably get off easy anyways” 

She rolls her eyes at him as they start their trek off campus, but she can’t help the small smile of amusement on her face.  Gojo wasn’t wrong, she did have a squeaky clean record, which she’d proudly maintained since transferring here, but now…

It wasn’t that she was aiming to rebel, she didn’t need to do anything crazy, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t live a little… right? And what was one trip to a twenty-four hour convenience store in the grand scheme of things? 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re obnoxious?” She asks, but her voice betrays her with soft fondness, and it’s obvious that Gojo notices with the way he looks over at her with the largest, stupidest grin on his face.

“Never with a straight face,” He replies, only to laugh when he catches her smiling at him as soon as he looks at her.  She wants to roll her eyes again, but she doesn’t.  She just laughs with him and doesn’t argue.  “You can admit you like my company, I won’t tell anyone,” He adds, only partially teasing.  “”Promise” 

“You better keep that promise,” (y/n) mutters back.  “For whatever her odd reason, Shoko thinks I’m cool, and I’d like to keep that status” 

“That’s because you perform your twisted little cursed technique on her every time she asks,” Gojo says.  “Shoko’s got an obsession with the occult, and you are certainly all things occult” 

The corner of her lips tilt into a smirk.  She wouldn’t necessarily agree, but he wasn’t wrong about her cursed technique.  With the ability to access anyone’s thread of fate- that little string hidden in their soul that keeps them alive as long as it’s intact- her cursed technique was a bit more involved than the other Special Grades’ she’d met thus far.  

It was gruesome when executed on an assignment, Gojo had seen it first hand only once.  With a plunge of her hand into a curse’s body she’d retrieve the thread, and rip it apart with both fists.  The curse was exorcized immediately and they called it a day sooner than expected.

Shoko, however, enjoyed seeing it the way anyone liked a party trick.  She’d clasp her hands together and beg for (y/n) to open up her soul for her.  All of her hours spent in the morgue and the lab might’ve been warping her curiosity, but she was always delighted when cursed energy would encase (y/n’s) hand and she’d reach right into her body as if she phased right through the skin and bones, before retrieving that solid black thread.

“Are you saying that I’m not cool?” (y/n) asks Gojo suddenly, and she’s only messing with him, but he backtracks instantly.

“I never said that!” He shouts, his voice echoing over the empty path they walked into town.  “You’re easily the coolest person I’ve ever met, (y/l/n) (y/n).  You put the special in Special Grade for sure!” 

That has her rolling her eyes again, even though she’s laughing at the stupid line.

“There are more interesting qualities about you than a cursed technique, that’s all,”

The sudden genuine comment has her laughter fading and a look of quiet surprise overtaking her features when she looks back at him.  He’s already staring at her, with that stupid grin and his prying eyes that seemed a little softer now.  He had these moments often, where in the midst of his teasing and nonsense, he’d say something so deeply real, and she knew it, that it would practically knock the wind out of her.  Like right now, where all she can do is stare at him and wait for him to say something else.

“Like, yeah, I have the Six Eyes and I’m mastering Infinity and sure, I suppose I am the strongest being on this earth, maybe ever,” He starts to ramble, and (y/n) can practically feel the idiot comment making it’s way out.  “But I’m more than that.  I’m also… really handsome,” 

She snorts, before a short burst of giggles follows and she shakes her head.  Just as expected, Gojo Satoru will always bury the real feelings under the perfectly tailored facade.

“What? It’s true!” He barks in offense when she laughs.  “I’m ridiculously handsome- it’s almost too much hotness for one man to carry alone!” 

“Uh-huh” 

“So you agree? I’m ridiculously handsome?” He grins like he actually caught her in something, and she laughs again.

“I didn’t say that,” But she didn’t exactly deny it either, did she? “But more importantly, you’re ridiculously rich, and you’re buying me mochi, too” 

And just like him, she’ll bury the budding sparks of feelings she doesn’t want to admit she has in order to preserve something more long lasting.  Friendship.  She’d never had friends like this before, people who understood her so deeply, people who took an interest in her even when their interests didn’t align.  Gojo Satoru especially took an interest, and she had a feeling he enjoyed making her push her limits, because she enjoyed letting him do it.

“Pfft, fine,” Satoru mutters in mock annoyance.  “Was jus’ gonna buy it anyways” 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After that, Gojo Satoru has a knack for getting (y/n) to sneak out of her dorm past curfew.  He wasn’t always dragging her off campus, oftentimes they’d just sit on the roof, or wander the courtyards, but there was the occasional midnight snack run that he’d insist on taking her on.  One time he insisted on showing her how he’d refined his technique, so she sat around for a good two hours while he just showed off.  This wasn’t necessarily out of character for him, so she sat and gave him her attention even though her time would’ve been much better spent sleeping.

Unfortunately, and unknown to him, the feelings that she was developing for him had started to accelerate.  It seemed that with every night he came to her window to pester her, her heart simply couldn’t feel irritation towards him.  Not that he couldn’t get under skin, it’s just that he managed to settle in there.  To the point where when she was away from him, she found herself counting down the time until she’d get to be near him again.

It was almost pathetic, when she really thought about it.  Missing the boisterous presence of Gojo Satoru was laughable.  At first she buried the idea, but she wasn’t one to live a life of denial, and no sooner than he could next drag her out in the middle of the night did she accept that she was actually falling for the Six Eyes user.  Their friends would poke fun at her if they knew- which they did, but this wasn’t due to her actually telling them.

But it was unable to be helped.  He always found a way to make her heart skip a beat before it picks up in pace.

“I think Nanami is a worthy sorcerer, I don’t have any problem with his company” She shrugs with her words, before leaning back on her elbows.  

The tiles of the roof weren’t the most comfortable to sit on, but they often found themselves lounging around there anyways.  Maybe it was because it was the perfect place to view the stars, or maybe conversation just seemed to come so much easier up there.

“It’s nothing to do with that,” Satoru mutters, a bitterness to his words that she didn’t often hear from him.  He was always overbearingly sweet or chipper with his speech.  Maybe it was the roof that brought on a sudden change in tone, or maybe it was because they were something he couldn’t hold back.  “You’re more than capable of taking that assignment alone.  You’re Special Grade.  You don’t need some first year- or anyone- to partner up with you,” 

Just as she’s about to open her mouth to come to Nanami Kento’s defense, she seals her lips tight.  It wasn’t about Nanami’s ability at all, she realized, as Gojo set his gaze firmly on the horizon.  It was about hers.

“The higher ups never want to admit when someone is stronger than them, probably ‘cause they’re scared we’ll overthrow them, or something,” He mumbles the last part, but (y/n) has a feeling there’s more feelings brewing beneath the surface of his bitterness.  “They want to morph into this strong… thing… but then as soon as you actually achieve their ridiculous expectations they’ll spend the rest of your life doing everything they can to remind you that you’re not…” He trails off for a moment, and even though he’s refusing to look at her, she can see emotion flickering in the corner of his eye.  He lets out a sigh before finishing his thought,  “... good enough”

(y/n’s) quiet as she lets it sink in.  She doesn’t want to speak too soon and lead him to assume she’d brushed off all he said, but before she could accurately voice her thoughts, he turns to her and releases an airy laugh.

His lips are curved into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and (y/n) can’t help but frown before he even says anything.

“I don’t think that came out right-” 

“No, it did,” She interrupts him gently.  She gives him a small nod of her head, understanding perfectly what he was saying.  It was a warning, but it was also a compliment to her abilities, and she wanted him to know that she appreciated it in it’s entirety.  Surprisingly, Satoru shuts his mouth.  “If taking on partnered assignments is what gets me through the rest of my time here, I’ll do it,” She explains, and she watches as his forced smile begins to crumple with disappointment.  “Besides, it’s good for Nanami to get the experience too, yeah?” She muses, but Satoru’s expression doesn’t flinch.  He doesn’t even blink.  “I have to fall somewhere in between being a good sorcerer and being a good upperclassman, too” 

“You’re already doing that,” He points out, almost rudely, but his adamance makes her heart stutter.  “You’re a Special Grade, and you already train and tutor the others, what more could possibly be asked of you?”

His upset is evident in his features, but the creases of his frown and pinched brows only deepen when (y/n) lets out a soft laugh.  It’s quiet, but genuine nonetheless.  She couldn’t help but find comfort and amusement in his determination.

“Sorry,” She murmurs when she realizes her laughter only fueled his irritation.  “I’m just amazed that Gojo Satoru is so worried about my reputation” 

“I’m not- (y/n), it’s about more than- ugh,” He huffs after he stumbles too much and loses sight of what he was really trying to say.  This time, (y/n) stifles her laughter behind sealed lips, but the slight movement in her shoulders still gives her away.  Satoru turns away again, his face growing warm as he finally mumbles in defeat, “I just don’t want them taking advantage of you, too” 

(y/n’s) smiling at him, although he can only sort of tell with his peripheral vision.  She leans forward and tilts her head, trying to get him to turn towards her again, but he refuses.  He can’t have her seeing the creeping blush on his face, after all.

“Thank you, Satoru” She tells him, and it’s the first time she’s called him by his forename alone- she tended to call him Gojo Satoru just to spite him- but hearing it now, spoken in such a small but genuine voice, it has him giving in and looking over at her so quickly it’s almost embarrassing to give her such a noticeable reaction.  His eyes are wide and his mouth is snapped shut, worried it’d go completely dry if he left it open.

Gojo Satoru is fairly certain he’s never experienced what falling in love felt like, but he’d never tried to seek it out, either.  He was content with his life, he felt as though he checked all the right boxes, with being born the strongest sorcerer, having the greatest friends in the world, he’d never really considered what having more would look like.

Right now, it looked like (y/e/c) eyes and a shy smile.

As suspected, his mouth goes dry when he opens it.

“You’re… welcome” He answers slowly, and it’s a bit awkward but (y/n) doesn’t point it out.  She simply leans back on her arms again and turns her attention back towards the stars.

In a few minutes she’d strike up conversation again and they’d spend the rest of their night chatting aimlessly about nothing special in particular, but neither one wanted to be the first to alert the other of the time.  So they’d sit there until the sunrise would peek over the horizon, and slowly, but eventually, they’d sneak back into the building with tired goodbyes and plans to meet up with their friends during lunch like they always did.

Everything was exactly as it always was.  But it was undeniably different.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Satoru scoffs when Shoko tells him about a party she’d been invited to by a non-sorcerer she and (y/n) ran into while in town.  A non-sorcerer party sounds like the perfect way to waste an evening.  Although he won’t admit he feels relief that neither one of them actually planned on going, and he knows that (y/n) already tucked herself in her room for the night.  

She’s probably studying, he thinks to himself fondly.  It was a friday night, sure, she should be doing something fun with her evening, but he’d much rather have her here than out doing who knows what at some lame party.

“He was cute too, can’t believe she turned him down,” 

That little comment had him snapping back into conversation- he might’ve tuned Shoko out a bit when she started going on about the cashier giving her a hard time over her less-than-authentic ID for her smokes- but now all of his senses were tuned back into what she was saying.

Shoko rolls her eyes when his head swivels at super human speed.  She’s not offended that he’d so clearly been ignoring her, not when it’s so amusing that she brought him back to earth the only way she knew how- by praying on his jealousy and pride.  Oldest trick in the book, she smirked to herself.  She and Suguru had mastered this trick ages ago.

“Wonder why she’d do such a thing” She mutters in mock curiosity, before pulling out her new pack of cigarettes and sticking one between her lips.  Satoru narrows his eyes at her, picking up on the lack of subtlety.  It wasn’t often that he did so.

“You’re blaming me for (y/n) not being interested in some random non-sorcerer?” He laughs humorlessly at the notion, and Shoko mirrors it with a laugh of absolute humor.

“She’s your most favorite Special Grade, isn’t she?” She muses, plucking the cigarette from her lips to exhale the smoke in her lungs before she presses him again.  “If it weren’t for you, she’d be out living her life for once” 

“You’re acting like I keep her from doing anything-” 

“I’m not,” Shoko shrugs, her expression turning bored.  “I was actually trying to insinuate that she’d rather hang around here getting in trouble with you than doing, I don’t know, normal things.  Like parties.  And… other things that happen at parties” She finishes with a smirk before she sticks the cigarette back in her mouth to puff some more.

Satoru flusters, not having a quick witted comment to come back at her with.  His silence is just as damning, however, and Shoko begins to laugh again, plumes of smoke puffing out as she does so.

“She’s probably never even been to a party,” She says, as if talking to herself, but Satoru’s well aware that she’s just luring him into her trap.  

Now, he’s not completely sure what that trap is, some sort of admission of guilt he assumes, but for what? 

“She’d probably love the scene.  Dancing, mingling.  Non-sorcerers would love her for sure.  She could do her whole ‘there is no god, only I control your fate’ thing, they’d eat that up” 

“She said that one time-” 

“Yeah, and it was badass,” Shoko cuts him off.  “I got chills and I wasn’t even there,” She pulls up the sleeve of her jacket then, chuckling when she finds the little hairs on her arms standing up.  “See? Chills” 

Satoru swats her arm out of his face when she shoves it in front of him.

“What are you getting at? Are you asking me to take her? I don’t want to go to a party with a bunch of strangers whose collective idea of a good time is alcohol poisoning and shitty music” 

“Harsh, Satoru, who’s got your panties in a bunch?” 

He could teleport away right now, before Suguru even completely approaches the two of them, but isn’t it all the more damning if he turns and runs? He doesn’t make a decision before Suguru has joined them at their usual table in the courtyard.  Shoko’s passing him a cigarette without any words exchanged.

“Guess” She speaks in monotone as she hands him her lighter.

“I’m leaving” Satoru finally decides, stuffing his hands in his pockets, surely about to stomp away.  The other two snicker between one another.

“Awe c’mon, don’t be like that, Satoru” Suguru calls, but he doesn’t try to chase down his sulking friend.

“When ya get to (y/n’s) can you remind her she still has my spare jacket?” Shoko hollers, which is followed by the sound of her and Suguru bursting into a fit of laughter.

Satoru warps with a huff before they could continue obnoxiously yelling at his back.  He barely wipes the scowl off his face before he’s knocking on the door he reappears at.

“It’s open!” Is called from inside, but he’s still cautious when he slides it open.

(y/n’s) at her desk, one earbud in her ear and one hanging in front of her.  She’s surrounded by piles of books and papers, not to mention the highlighter in her hand and the pen tucked above her ear.  She’d clearly been busy with her studies, but when she looks up to see who her visitor was, she picks up her iPod Shuffle and hits pause before she plucks the other bud out of her ear.

“What a surprise,” She greets him with a warm smile.  “To see you actually using the door, that is,” 

That cracks a smile on his unusually sour face, and (y/n) leans back in her chair, already forgetting the work in front of her as she takes him in.  Her arms cross over her chest as her brow furrows just a little bit.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Something has to be wrong for me to stop by?” He asks, leaning back into the doorway.  “Can’t I just be a good friend and come say hi?” 

She raises a brow at him.

“Hi” She says with a smile too sweet to be real, or at least he thinks.

Satoru rolls his eyes, but his own smile is more genuine than he’d like to admit.

“Hi,” He replies.  (y/n) smiles a little wider.  “Is this really your plan for the night?” He asks, wagging his finger in a circular motion at the pile of work she had before her.

“It was,” She claims.  “But I have this odd feeling… like you’re about to drag me off…?” She can barely contain her delight, even as she presses her finger against her pursed lips in mock curiosity.

“Take you away from your studies? Who do you think I am, Special Grade? A bad influence?” 

“And apparently a mind reader, too” She quips.

“Well… do you want me to drag you out of here or not?” 

It’s only a dizzy spell from Satoru’s warping later that they find themselves in the middle of a neighborhood, in front of a house she doesn’t recognize.  Needless to say, it was not a usual spot for them.

“A house party?” (y/n) furrows her brows at him, before glancing down at herself.  She’d ditched her uniform jacket at least, but she was still in black slacks and her white tee shirt.  “You couldn’t have told me to wear something different?” 

Satoru frowns, before mirroring her actions.  In the same pants and a black tee shirt himself, he takes offense to her insinuation.

“You don’t think I make this look good?” He pouts.

“I think we look like we’re in costumes- what are we doing here, anyways?” She asks.

“Shoko told me about it,” He says, before taking a step towards the house.  “C’mon let’s go in” 

Begrudgingly, she follows him, even though she’s still completely unsure of the whole thing.

“This is really what you wanted to do?” She asks, and Satoru doesn’t miss the way she stiffens when he lets himself into the house without even a knock.  She supposes knocking or ringing the doorbell would have been pointless, seeing as the music playing inside was so loud the bass could be heard from the front yard, but it unsettles her nonetheless.

No, he thinks.

But what he says is; “Why not?” with that big dumb grin of his that tells her she should keep her guard up tonight.

It’s strange that she can trust him with her life while simultaneously not trusting him in the slightest at this moment.

The house party is picture perfect, captured like every movie scene depicting a house party ever.  Countless bodies inhabiting the open living room, the staircase, and the few hallways she could see just from stepping through the door.  It seems everyone’s either holding a plastic cup, a beer bottle, a cigarette, or some combination of the three.  When they take a few steps in and she doesn’t feel any weird stares, her stomach starts to settle, but the voice in the back of her mind still whines that she should’ve at least changed into a pair of jeans.

Satoru’s not taking any of it in- at all.  Despite his Six Eyes, he hardly notices the bustling of dancing bodies, or bodies trying to push through the crowd.  The music is at just the right volume to ring in his ears in a way that will ache tomorrow, but he doesn’t register the melody enough to identify the song, and he doesn’t try, either.  He’s far more charmed by the way (y/n) takes it all in with complete enamourment and intrigue than he could be by the scene itself.

The scene itself was unimpressive.  A loud, smoky atmosphere that had his skin crawling before even attempting to walk through the crowd of people made him want to wince.  He tried to keep his expression as neutral as he could, not wanting to take away from (y/n’s) experience, but when his eyes surveyed the place, they squinted with disgust.  It was even starting to smell.

“What first, hm?” He turned towards her in an attempt to block out the setting they found themselves in.  If only he could turn off his Six Eyes and tunnel vision completely on her.  “Body shots? Dancing?” 

(y/n) scoffs, but a humored smile curls on her lips as she meets his gaze.

“How about just a drink?”

“A shot?” 

“One beer” 

His grin twitches, before he gives her a nod and takes off into the crowd that had his Infinity flickering on instantaneously.  Satoru’s got his sights set straight on the kitchen, it seems a little less crowded in there, and the array of coolers and bottles on the counter was the most appealing thing about this place.  

(y/n) let her eyes wander every person they passed, taking in everything she could.  Every smile, every laugh, every outfit and anything else there was to take note of.  A few people noticed her curious staring, some waved, some seemed indifferent, some stared back, but nothing captured her attention quicker than Satoru tapping her on the shoulder once they’d reached the kitchen.  He’s already holding a bottle out to her, and she takes it with a quiet thank you.

He takes it back from her moments later when she tries to unscrew the bottle cap.  The grin she knows to be cautious of returns as he points a finger at it, thumb outstretched, and with a quiet zap the cap flies off.  Surprisingly, he doesn’t completely shatter the bottle with his abundance of cursed energy, but the bottle cap does go flying, and they hear a distant ‘ow!’.

“I could’ve found a bottle opener” (y/n) tells him, but he knows she was at least a little bit impressed by his finite control over his technique.

“But ya already got one,” He quips with pride.  She stifles her laugh by raising the bottle to her lips, taking a few long drinks.  Satoru’s eyebrows almost raise to his hairline, a shocked laugh belting out of him when she finishes.

“I figured you’ve never had a drop to drink before” He says when she gives him a confused look.

“I haven’t” She confirms.  Satoru keeps his mouth shut after that.

They spend a few hours at the house party, to both of their surprise.  There’s some mingling, (y/n) seemed to enjoy meeting new people, and drunk people seemed to enjoy flocking to her.  Girls thought her attire was badass, guys liked talking to a girl that talked back- at least until Satoru’s face would screw up enough that they’d leave.  Other than a few offers of phone numbers, he couldn’t say he hated the whole party setting.

But his acceptance of the whole ordeal might have had less to do with the party being fun and more to do with the company he kept for the night.  As much as (y/n) moved about to enjoy every aspect of the simple party, she had a habit of sticking as close to his side as possible.  If she was walking away, her hand was latching onto his, or his elbow, to keep him moving with her.  If they were surrounded in a tightly packed space, she was glued to his side, tucked under her arm and pressed against him from torso to leg.  Satoru deducted that he’d never show up to one of these things alone, but if she asked him? Hell, he might agree without thinking twice.

“Hear me out- hear me out!” She doesn’t need to tell him twice, but she shouts when she repeats herself just to be sure that Satoru can hear her clearly.  “I think we should throw our- our own party, back at- back at home” 

It’s cute that she calls it home, he thinks.  Logically, he knows it’s because she’s never really had a solid place to land before Yaga scouted her and took her in, but it still has a way of making his heart flutter with the idea of her involving him in her idea of home.  

They’ve taken a break from chatting with strangers, to Satoru’s relief, and right now he had her attention all to himself.  They were currently wallflowering in a corner between the hallway and the living room, a water bottle being passed between them, although he tried to keep it more in her hands than his, considering she out drank him rather quickly.

“I dunno, Suguru and Shoko aren’t really party animals,” He replies, earning a bubbly giggle from her, which he takes to mean she agrees.  “I think you might just be enjoying yourself too much” 

“No such thing,” She argues with a definitive shake of her head.  “And don’t lie, you’re having fun, too!” 

She’s shouting a bit again, and Satoru laughs.  Shoko and Suguru wouldn’t believe him later when he tells them about how cute she was when she was tipsy and talkative.  Oh well, he’d have to enjoy it for himself first hand.  He already couldn’t get enough of it, of her eager attention.  He’s so wrapped up in it he’s been leaning closer and closer each time she speaks.  Until he’s practically hanging onto the corner of the wall, pressing closer to the side she’d been leaning against.

“I wouldn’t attribute that to this party” He scoffs, almost rudely as he glances at the remaining people.  

There’s a couple making out on the couch, a circle forming at the bottom of the stairs with a bong being slowly passed around, a few people are passed out on open furniture, at least one person sleeping on the floor- and he can only imagine what’s going on upstairs.

When he looks back at her, her eyes are already focused on his.  Round and full of pure delight, as if this had been the greatest night of her life.  Satoru pushes his sunglasses on top of his head, revealing the slight squint in his gaze.  (y/n) tilts her head curiously when she catches the furrow forming in his brows, too.

“What?” She asks him, still studying his puzzled expression.  It’s a bit difficult, with his pretty eyes on display, her mind was a little one track at the moment and it was hard to focus on anything other than the perfect cerulean oceans.

“How come you never went out ‘n did this stuff before moving here?” 

Her shoulders rise and fall unceremoniously.  

“I guess cause no one ever dragged me into doing them.  Teleporters were in short supply, too” She laughs at her own joke, and Satoru cracks a smile, reveling in her amusement.

“Well aren’t you in luck, then,” He hums, and he admits his insides are starting to feel doughy when he’s the object her soft gaze is so set on, and it’s probably about time to convince her to head home, but that would mean ruining her fun, and he can’t bring himself to do so just yet.  “Did you get to have all the synthetically produced fun you wanted?” He teases, and she shrugs again, but this time the motion is gentler, more careful.

“I had a good time with you,” The reply is genuine, making it all the more hard hitting to his heart.  Even his Infinity couldn’t protect him from that.  Her eyes finally tear away from his, only to glance over the dwindling crowd of drunken bodies.  “You sort of scared off all my kiss options though” 

“Kiss options?” He repeats with a laugh, taking her comment for a joke.  When she looks up at him again, he can tell in her deluded, drunken mind, she’d been absolutely serious.  “You’re joking.  You wanted to kiss one of these clowns?” He clicks his tongue in displeasure, but her expression doesn’t waver.

“It’s a bit late for it now.  But I figured it was as good a time as any to get it out of the way,” She says, in that light but serious tone again, and now Satoru feels his heart dropping.  “Oh well,” She sighs, leaning further into the wall, until her head rested against it.  “Another time…” 

“What, it’s on your bucket list to kiss some rando?” He teases half-heartedly.  

Had she been trying to make a move on someone all night? Now Satoru’s mind was racing with thoughts that made his stomach twist into knots.  Had he misread their entire evening? Had she been trying to ditch him? Was he the one clinging to her? Well, he’d clung a little bit, but it felt natural to wrap his arm around her waist and keep her close! His heart started hammering in his chest as the nasty feeling in his gut began to climb up his throat.

“No,” She says, laughing under her breath at the idea.  “Just wanted to get the first one over with” 

Gojo’s eyes widen almost comically, before he leans in and drops his voice to a whisper, as if to spare her any embarrassment.

“As in first kiss?” He mutters, eyes darting around just to be sure no one else could hear.  (y/n’s) laughter bubbles at his dramatic display, and takes no offense to it at all, simply nodding her head.

“Yeah, as in first kiss,” She repeats with the same secretive act, before laughing again.  “Don’t act all surprised now” 

“Baby, I’m not acting,” The pet name falls off his tongue sarcastically, but he can’t deny it feels a bit too natural.  “You’ve never kissed anyone?” 

“Nope” She pops her lips and shakes her head.

“And of all places you wanted to kiss someone here?” He asks, his lips curling into a grimace as he recalled the candidates from earlier.  The pickings weren’t exactly ripe.

“It was just a kiss,” She rolls her eyes at his reaction.  “I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, Satoru, I just wanted to know what it was like.  Figured it might come up organically in a party setting” 

Satoru sticks his tongue out and gags.

“Absolutely not.  Why didn’t you just say somethin’? I would’ve kissed ya” 

“That doesn’t count” She shakes her head, and he narrows his eyes back at her.

“And why not?” He asks, clearly offended.  “I’ll have you know I’m a great kisser!” 

“Oh yeah? Your hand told you so?” (y/n) snickers, and Satoru’s pout noticeably worsens.  “I don’t want a pity kiss, I want a real kiss.  Y’know, so I can be good at it before it… really matters” 

“It would be a real kiss, dummy, what difference does it make?” He’s not following her logic, and he can’t tell if it’s drunk (y/n) logic or if this had been on her mind all night.

She blinks at him, the humor in her features fading away the longer he stares back at her and she begins to realize he’s being serious.  Her brows twitch, and her mouth opens but no words come out.  What was she supposed to say? Yes, kiss me now!? It felt awkward to suddenly rush into it and accept his offer.  But she also didn’t want to let the moment pass and regret it later.

“It won’t be weird,” Satoru purses his lips and shakes his head with as much nonchalance as he can muster.  It’s as though he’s reading her mind, and the thought of taking him up on it makes her face feel warm.  “Besides, I would be a bad friend letting you have a bad first kiss with some non-sorcerer that doesn’t know what he’s doing” 

“You’d feel bad?” A small laugh escapes her as she teases him, tilting her chin up at him.  Satoru nods his head from side to side with uncertain confirmation.  “Okay then” 

“Okay?” He repeats.

“Yeah” 

“You’ll let me?” 

It’s an odd way of phrasing it, she’ll let him kiss her, as if he was the one seeking it out in the first place.  However Satoru was simply doing her a favor, wasn’t he? Helping her get the first one out of the way.  He’d much rather he do it himself than let any of the idiots she met tonight get the chance.  But that’s just because they weren’t worthy like he was, and that was a fair assessment, wasn’t it? 

He swallows the lump in his throat with only a little difficulty before she nods back at him and gives him a hum of approval.  She’ll actually let him.

When he doesn’t make a move, she tilts her head at him in confusion.

“Well?” 

“Well come on,” He beckons her, before taking her by the hand and pulling her away from the wall they’d been hugging for the better part of an hour.  “Can’t have it be in some stranger’s house, might as well get a better view than that, yeah?” 

He grins at her as he half guides and half drags her outside.  She’s a little lost on his logic, because it was just a kiss wasn’t it? Did the setting really matter? Although once they’re outside she has to admit the moon’s luminescence did provide a nicer atmosphere.  A smile graces her face as she admires the sky, until Satoru stops them.

“Here’s good,” He decides, grinning back at her.  “Got a speech planned? Anyone you want to thank?” 

“Well, I never thought I’d make it this far,” She giggles as she goes along with the bit.  “I suppose at the end of it all I only have myself to thank, really-” 

“Ahem” 

“Oh, and of course Gojo Satoru, for the wonderful opportunity,” She corrects, barely containing her laughter through her made-up speech.  Satoru brightens, grinning from ear to ear at her delight.  “I think that’s all I got” 

He chuckles, before taking a step forward and closing the already small distance between them.  Her breath hitches in her throat as reality sets in.  She didn’t really think about actually kissing Satoru until he was close enough that his cologne wafted past her nose, and her eyes naturally fell to the pink curve of his lips.

“I’m not kissin’ you with your eyes open,” He laughs breathlessly, and her eyes briefly flicker up to his before she lets them shut.  The heat in her face begins to spread down her neck as she holds her breath.  “You need me to count down?” He asks, and he’s only partially joking.

“Just kiss me, ‘toru-” 

He doesn’t need further assurance beyond her impatient little whine, so in one motion he slides hand around the back of her neck, pulling her forehead just as he dipped his head to meet her lips with his.

She’s frozen at first, unmoving under his soft mouth prodding against hers, but he expected as much.  After two seconds, she slowly and carefully kisses him back, still nervous she’d do something wrong.

Her hands are planted firmly at her sides, and her eyes are squeezed shut, but she still cherishes every second of the simple kiss.  How sweet his lips taste, how warm and welcoming they are, how much she’d like to stand there and kiss him for a few minutes more…

When she pulls away to catch her breath that she’d been holding in for far too long, Satoru’s hand lingers at the nape of her neck.  His fingers twitch, indecisive in what to do next.

Kissing her again wasn’t the right move… was it? 

“Thank you,” She tells him softly, her blush prominent on her face even in the dark.  “Should we get going now?” 

He could almost laugh at how quickly she moved on if it didn’t sting a little.  He hides it behind a smile as he nods his head in agreement, getting ready to warp them back home.

“You could’ve thanked my hand in your speech too” He teases as she wraps her arms round one of his, mentally preparing for the dizzying effect of teleportation.

“Shut up” She giggles back before they disappear from the scene.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Satoru’s never turned down (y/n’s) company.  He’s never wanted her to be away from him, and he’d never ask her to, either.  There was no one whose presence he delighted in more than hers- and he was starting to really come to terms with what that meant.

“You should go to bed,” He tells her, for the third time tonight.

There was no reason for him to stay up on guard with him.  He had surveillance covered while Suguru and Riko slept.  There was no sense in (y/n) staying up all night and wasting away her energy.  Not when she’d already done so last night, despite his protests then, too.

She’s sitting on the other end of the sofa, a small carton of ice cream in her hands that she was poking around in, trying to scoop out all of the brownie bits first.  She looks like she hadn’t even heard him, but Satoru’s not falling for it.

“Seriously, (y/n), you need rest” He sighs, hoping tonight he’d get through to her.

She hums thoughtfully, her eyes focused on her snack, and Satoru throws his head back against the couch cushion in defeat.

“We could put a movie on, good way to pass time,” She suggests, completely ignoring his request.  “I’ll even let you pick” She adds, shooting him a warm smile.

“You’re not gonna sleep, are you?” Satoru frowns when he turns his head to look at her.  Her smile remains as she shakes her head.

“Nope,” She murmurs sweetly.  “So you might as well pick something to watch” 

She’d pulled this last night, too.  Convincing him to hang out at the beach all night, swimming and stargazing.  He adored her company, he really did, but she hadn’t slept a wink yesterday, and he couldn’t put her through 48 straight hours without it.

He knows she’s exhausted, her eyes were dull, and starting to get puffy from lack of rest.  She did her best keeping up an energetic attitude, especially during the day when Suguru and Riko had still been awake, she’d fooled them almost too easily.  But Satoru knew better.  He knew her better.

“If I put a movie on will you at least lay down?”

Her eyes narrow at him, before she lowers her ice cream to her lap.

“Are you trying to trick me into falling asleep, Satoru?” 

“I’m trying to make sure you’re not going to go delirious because you’re not sleeping a normal human amount-” He tries to argue but she interrupts him.

“You haven’t slept either, hypocrite,” She mutters the last part.  “I’m resting enough just sitting around for the night, aren’t I?” 

“No-” 

“Pick the damn movie, Satoru” 

He huffs, but for some reason he finds himself putting a random disc in the dvd player before he falls onto the sofa again.  (y/n) remains at her end, slowly picking at her ice cream while the movie starts.  Satoru doesn’t have the energy to argue with her- literally, he’s starting to get tired keeping his Infinity up like this- so he sits in silence and watches the tv.  All he can do now is hope that she’ll get tired over time and maybe just pass out.  She couldn’t keep it up forever, could she? 

Two more movies later, Satoru worries he’d grossly underestimated her.  It had been almost six hours- it was nearing four in the morning- and she still reluctantly had her eyes glued to the tv.  He’d tried a few more times to convince her, but all he’d managed was to get her to share a blanket with him.

It hadn’t been enough.  She settled under the fluffy blanket, right up against his side, and still it wasn’t enough coziness to lure her into sleep.  He had to give her some credit for her stubbornness, that was for sure.

Around the 4:30 mark, he feels a weight pressing into his shoulder- well, against the Infinity, and he’s filled with so much hope he almost drops the barrier just to fully enjoy the feeling of her sleeping against him.

Then she alerts him that she’s still awake by speaking.

“Satoru,” It’s soft, so faint that he holds onto hope that she could still drift off.  “If I do fall asleep, you’ll wake me up, won’t you?”

He chuckles, before sliding his arm around her back, making sure to tuck the blanket up to her shoulder before he settles his arm there, keeping her tucked in against him.  He tells himself that this is all to make sure she’ll get some sleep- against her will or not- and that it had nothing to do with how his heart felt full when she snuggled a little deeper into his hold.

“You know I’m not gonna, Special Grade,” He murmurs back.  She grumbles something inaudible, but he assumes it has something to do with the heavier droop of her head.  

After a few minutes, he raises his hand from her shoulder, and slowly presses his fingers against her temple, easing her into a more comfortable position, until eventually he feels her slump completely as she gives in.

He lets their movie keep on rolling once she’s finally asleep against him, it at least held his attention enough to keep him awake.  The hammering of his heart in his chest might’ve also kept his adrenaline kicking for long enough that it wouldn’t have mattered, though.

The following day, (y/n) gives him a few icy glares, just to remind him that she didn’t appreciate his cruel trick.  Riko and Suguru share a few awkward glances as the two half fight and half joke about the whole thing.  They try to remove themselves from the pair’s bantering as much as they can, unable to stand the levels of chemistry they carried into every room.

“Seriously Satoru, it’s going to make me sick,” Suguru mutters to his friend at one point, while (y/n) and Riko are busy wandering the shore for seashells, or something.  “Make a move or don’t, but you’re driving the rest of us mad” 

Satoru laughs, his eyes squinting against the sun even with his shades on.  It was getting exhausting keeping them open, the amount of cursed energy it took to keep up Infinity and his Six Eyes had been giving him headaches all day, but he did his best to hide it.

“You’re just jealous that she likes me more” He says, even though Suguru doesn’t care in the slightest, and he even rolls his eyes to drive that point home.

“Well she’s not gonna like you forever if you keep up this dumb game,” He argues.  “What kind of friends kiss and then don’t do anything about it?”

“I told you that in confidence” Satoru whines.

“You told me in the middle of the night right after it happened,” Suguru reminds him in a plain tone of voice.  “Seriously, we all know she has feelings for you, so stop being a coward” 

“Not a coward,’ Satoru mumbles, kicking at the sand.  “We’re just… sorta in the middle of something here?” He tries to blame it on the assignment, but Suguru gives him a blank look.

“We’re at the beach,” He mutters.  “She’s been staying up with you, too, so do it then, after the rest of us have gone to sleep” He points a finger at him for the last part, making sure it was crystal clear.

“I don’t know.  Maybe” Satoru huffs, and starts to walk away before Suguru could drag the conversation on any longer.

He spends the rest of the afternoon and evening mulling it over.  He’d known how he felt about her for quite some time now, before he’d even kissed her.  The kiss was just the solidification that his feelings were real, and not some romanticized imagination his mind had drawn up.  But he’d never felt love before, and he had no clue how to go about professing it.

He’s antsy when he and (y/n) find themselves on the beach again that night, long past sunset, long past when everyone else had gone to bed.  They’re both seated on a towel to keep their clothes clear of sand, but with their feet digging into the soft grains it didn’t matter, the towel became a mess anyways.

“I don’t want you to stay up too late again,” He tells her, although it feels useless.  “It’s just not good for you,” He looks over at her, taking in the darker circles under her eyes, the paleness in her features even after spending the day in the sun.  “And it’s not worth it”

She gives him a bittersweet smile, her head tilting just slightly as she regards his worry.

“It is worth it,” She replies quietly.  “I don’t want you to be alone out here,” She tells him, watching the way his expression falters and softens.  “It’s just not good for you” She mimics him with a laugh for good measure, and he barely cracks a smile, but his worry is still evident.

“Well, when this assignment is over, can you promise to sleep for three days straight to make up for it?” He asks, and she thinks it over for a moment before nodding her head in agreement.

“I suppose,” She answers.  “As long as you do, too,” She adds quickly, “Fair is fair” 

Satoru rolls his eyes, but his smile is a little more genuine this time.

“Alright then, 72 hours of sleep it is,” He gives in.  “But I’m holding you to that promise” 

“I don’t break promises,” She tells him confidently, before a quietness settles between them again.  Her gaze lingers on the low tide rolling in as she lets her mind wander, and before she knows it, she’s speaking up again.  “I know you don’t think you need anyone looking out for you, Satoru,” 

He looks at her right away, tired eyes widening at the sudden seriousness in her tone.  She’s still watching the tide, completely captured by it, but he can tell she’s holding in more.

“But I… I worry about you,” She admits, dropping her head to stare at her lap.  “I don’t want you to take on more than you can handle, I… I don’t want them to take advantage of you anymore,” 

She swallows the lump in her throat before finally working up the courage to look over at him.

“I know that you’re the strongest, and it’s gonna happen but… but I can’t help this feeling like… I’m here too, you know? I can take things on too, assignments, or… this,” She gives him a weak smile, hoping he understands that her sentiment comes from a good place.  “I care about you, you know?” She finishes in a whisper.

Satoru’s eyes shift in between hers as he takes it in.  How ironic, that every reason she has for putting herself through hours without rest, were the exact reasons that he wanted her to get rest.  The corner of his lips tugs into a small smile as he takes her in now, completely.

Her exhaustion is evident, but with the way she’s looking at him now, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

In an act of complete selfish desire, he leans over the space between them and plants his lips on hers.  Her eyes widen at first, alarmed by the sudden kiss, and the fact that he’s dropped his Infinity in order to touch her at all, but as soon as the shock starts to wear off her eyes fall shut and she’s kissing him back with all the fervor that she wished she had the first time.

It’s another pleasant surprise when she reaches out and finds her fingertips bumping into his cheekbones, before her entire hands up his warm face and she’s pulling him closer to her, kissing him again- and then again some more.

Satoru’s balance is thrown off from the way he leans against her, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed when he wraps his arms around the dip in her back and pulls her closer to him.  She obliges with a soft sigh panted against his lips before they’re colliding again.

For all the passion he pours into it- for every ounce of need and impatience he feels, he kisses her slowly, each one lingering a little longer than the last, just to be sure he commits every detail of it to his memory, where it could be preserved in his perfection forever.

He doesn’t let go of her when they finally pull apart, and she doesn’t pull her hands away from his face, either.  They keep each other close, as close as they can while still catching their breath.

Her eyes are wide when they meet his, confused and ecstatic all in one sweet expression that Satoru wants to add to his collection of memories.  He smiles at her as his eyes wander her face leisurely.

“What was that for?” She murmurs, the pad of her thumb rubbing over the delicate curve of his cheekbone with nothing but fondness in her touch.  

He chuckles, warm breath fanning over her lips.  

Wasn’t it obvious?

“Because,” 

His voice is a mere murmur, and for a moment she thinks that might be his entire answer.  She wouldn’t put it past him, but there’s a look in his eyes that resembles longing, and she knows there must be more.

“I love you too”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes // i'm your national anthem ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie a/n: i actually had a super rad cursed technique planned for reader but ended up not writing any scenes where she's using it so u WILL see it come up in another fic sometime

[musingsofahufflepuff]

To Be Worshipped

Theodore Nott x fem!reader; smut

summary: studying can be so stressful, lucky for you, your boyfriend theodore is always eager to help you relax

a/n: you could consider this a companion piece to For You, I’d Fall from Grace, but the reader is receiving in this one 🫶 this was supposed to be up for lorenzo’s birthday but then i went out with coworkers and got tipsy, sorry. pure smut, 18+ only

It was almost one in the morning and you were still scribbling down notes for your History of Magic exam that was fast approaching. The slytherin common room was nice and quiet, the lamp at the desk illuminating a small radius around you. You were so lost in names and dates that you didn’t hear your boyfriend Theo approaching.

You jumped slightly at the sudden hands on your shoulders, looking behind you to see him looking at you with raised eyebrows. “What?”

He chuckles quietly, “I said you look stressed and that you need a break.” He tucks a stray bit of hair behind your ear.

“I dunno Teddy, I really want to do well on this and I don’t even know if I could relax right now if I do take a break.”

He bends down to whisper in your ear, “be a good girl and leave the relaxing bit to me.”

♡ ♡ ♡

As you spread your legs for him, he grabs your hips and yanks you to the edge of the bed, making you yelp. You prop yourself onto your forearms as he drops to his knees with a thud, his intense gaze never leaving your face. He gently pushes your legs open a bit wider.

Theo litters your left thigh with soft kisses and little nips, trailing towards your pussy. Before he finally reaches it, he pulls away and does the same to the other thigh, making you whine softly.

This time he does reach your heat, kissing the outside with soft lips. He spreads you open, admiring how gorgeous you are for a moment, “you’re already so wet for me, amore.”

Before you can fully process it, his mouth is on your folds, seemingly unable to hold himself back anymore. The feeling of his warm tongue against you alone is enough to pull a moan out of you. He takes a few tantalizingly slow licks through your folds, brushing his tongue over your clit before repeating the motion. It sends shock waves through you every time he touches it and in response he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs.

Once Theo is satisfied with his first taste, he flattens his tongue and runs it over your clit in firm, rhythmic motions. Another, softer moan escapes you. As he relentlessly rubs that spot, you lose the ability to keep yourself up, arms giving out from under you. Your back hits the mattress and Theo takes the movement as a cue to speed up. Moans turn into needy whimpers as he refuses to let up on pressure or speed.

One of his hands slides up your side to reach your breast and he takes a moment to gently knead at it. His fingertips ghost over a nipple, making your entire body twitch. His tongue continues to toy with that bundle of nerves as he begins rolling your nipple between his fingers, occasionally pulling on it.

He takes a moment to dip his tongue into your entrance and he moans. The vibrations cause your legs to shake and the sound contributes in making your brain go fuzzy. You jolt again when his other hand moves so his thumb can rub your clit, picking up a circular motion. As his thumb works against you, he fucks into you with his tongue.

Theo’s tongue slips back out to lick up to your clit once again, his fingers coming down to tease at your entrance instead. His other hand is still toying with your nipple and you can barely keep up with the assault of sensations.

He slides a finger into you, the mixture of your arousal and his saliva making it go in easily. His finger thrusts into you deep and hard, picking up speed as moans start to fall from your mouth. When Theo curls his finger, hitting your g-spot, you almost come undone then and there.

He pulls back a bit to watch you shake, finger still thrusting, “fuck dolcezza, you okay? You’re trembling.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and a frustrated groan leaves your lips.

“Teddy, please,” your thighs twitch as you lock his head in with your legs. Before you can beg more, his mouth is back on you and he’s adding a second finger.

His tongue teases at your clit like he was made for it and soon enough you’re bucking your hips up in time with his licks.

You feel a tightening in your core as heat settles there, moans falling out uncontrollably. Feeling that you’re close, Theo doubles down on the speed and pressure of his movements, causing your orgasm to hit you hard.

You let out a strangled moan of his name that comes out as more of a cry as you finish on his tongue.

Your thighs are shaking as you release his head, breathing ragged. It barely registers that Theo has gotten off his knees before his mouth is on yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He pinches your nipple once again, causing you to let out something between a yelp and a moan.

“Oh dolcezza, you didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?”

♡ ♡ ♡

Theo is lying on his back, looking like something out of a wet dream as he beckons you over. Once you’re within reach, he’s grabbing your hips and guiding you towards his head as you face the rest of his body. When he’s satisfied with your position he pulls you down against him, hot mouth back against your folds. Your abdomen spasms at the feeling, still a little sensitive from your first orgasm, but Theo doesn’t seem to care.

His tongue immediately finds your entrance and your arms are already starting to feel weak. You lean down against his toned torso, head landing on his thigh right beside his clothed dick.

His tongue desperately licks into you, as if he was starving for you. You moan louder than before, body moving to meet his thrusts. His hands never leave your hips, guiding your grinding on his face as he moans, needy.

Your gaze locks on his bulge and you begin to fumble with the waistband of his boxers. He lifts his hips to help when he feels you struggling. You’re able to get them pulled down, his hard cock springing free. A whimper escapes you.

All the while, his tongue does not let up, redirecting back to your clit, lapping less calculated than before.

Your hands claw at his thighs, causing a few pink lines to appear on his skin. In response, Theo’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, keeping you grounded. You grind sloppily against his now still tongue as he lets you take control. You find a rhythm quickly, hitting your clit perfectly every time you press back down.

You take the tip of his cock in your mouth, needing something to stop you from crying out. Theo whimpers at the feeling of your soft mouth closing around his dick, hips twitching, as he tries not to thrust up into your throat.

Heat pools in your core once again and it gets harder to keep your rhythm. You feel a second orgasm building, hips involuntarily snapping against his mouth.

You pull off his cock as your orgasm crashes over you again, moaning out his name as he refuses to let up. His hands move to your thighs as you try to squirm away, holding you down.

His tongue laps at your folds, teasing at your clit until you can’t take it anymore. The only thing you can do is whimper as you spasm against his mouth. A third climax hits you quickly with his refusal to let up.

“Teddy, please, can’t.”

He lets you up just enough to speak, “you sure? I think you can be a good girl take more for me.” His hot breath against your skin makes your thighs shake uncontrollably. You bury your face into his thigh as a whine leaves you.

“Okay, okay amore,” he presses one last soft kiss to your folds before helping you turn around to face him. You collapse against his chest and you can hear his heart thumping wildly.

He gives you a kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, “we’ll save it for after you ace that exam.” You can’t stop the quiet moan that escapes your lips.

[devilfic]

part four to this series

cw: 18+ mdni, mentions of blood drinking, fantasizing about biting, miguel’s got a thing for “sir”, EXTREMELY suggestive, no explicit smut just miguel losing his mind. this is the horniest one yet.. sorry!

miguel cannot get the taste of you out of his mind. it hadn’t been the part of you he’d wanted, the part of you that overwhelmed him, but it had been close. throughout the day he’d catch himself licking behind his fangs even though he’d since flushed his mouth clean of you. sometimes, he’d nick his tongue on his canine and the taste of his own blood would remind him of you again.

jessica asked about the gauze on your arm while miguel was in the room and you’d had a quick response, though not one that would spare him the knowing look from his (other) right-hand woman, “oh, miguel and I were playing too hard.”

sure enough, jessica drew’s eyes narrow behind her glasses. she even pushes them up into the crown of curls and coils on her head so her disappointment really gets across, “aren’t you a little too old to be rough-housing, miguel?”

if it were just that, miguel could confidently say it was an accident. if this had been about the cut on your eye that had healed over weeks before, there’d be honest guilt on his face when he defended himself. but no, you had asked. you’d practically put your arm in his mouth. you’d asked for him to hurt you, and you’d liked it.

and he’d liked it too. he didn’t know if he could hide that part.

before he can think of what to say, you chime in, “he’s always careful. it was my fault this time.”

“I don’t get why you two have to fight all the time. can’t you try, I dunno, healing yoga?”

miguel tried to picture himself in a downward dog pose and almost started laughing. from the flicker of mirth across your features, you seemed to be picturing the same thing. then he accidentally pictured you in that pose, pictured himself standing behind you, pictured taking your waist in his claws and crouching over you to sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too.

he digs his heels into the floor to rid himself of the image. his voice is strained as he replies, “it was their idea. can’t help that it works.”

jessica is far too exhausted with life as a new mother to try to understand that. she waves a hand, her white flag for the conversation, “whatever. I just came to borrow your assistant for the day. is that alright with you?”

lyla materializes on miguel’s shoulder, one holographic leg crossed over the other, “who, moi?”

“no thanks, tinkerbell. I need a person. preferably with some muscle.”

miguel would find that funny but all he can think to ask is, “why?” but you’re already standing up and following jessica to the doors of his office. he feels a sudden queasiness at the thought of not seeing you for the rest of the day. the day itself had just started. his morning coffee hadn’t even gone cold.

he hadn’t been left alone without you since you’d started here. now, he’d spend the whole day alone?—lyla sings a goodbye next to his ear—with just lyla?

he stands, abruptly, making his desk shake and shift a few inches. the sound is enough to stop the two of you in your tracks. your eyes bore into his own, curious, and he feels silly like the first day you’d caught him mid-tantrum. he means to sound intimidating and authoritative, but his voice can’t help the weakness when he looks at you, “I didn’t say yes.”

jessica’s hard look is almost enough to make him sit back down.

but you smile, tilt your head to the side, turn fully to him, “sorry. can I go, mr. o’hara?”

in truth, you didn’t need to ask him. but he didn’t know what else he’d expected when he objected like that. he wanted to hear it. he’d wanted to hear you ask for permission, or better yet refuse jessica altogether. he wanted you to sit back down across the desk from him and crack jokes at his expense, tease him and cackle even though he was the butt of the joke  every single time. he wanted you to offer up a mini spar session after he came back from hunting down anomalies again just to get the adrenaline out of his system. he wanted you to pin him down and win, again, so he could flip you on your back when you least expected it and he could sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too-

miguel clears his throat and sits back down, painfully aware of where his blood was flowing to now. he waved a hand, murmured something noncommittal, but you’d really put the nails in his coffin. you bowed at the waist, smug like you always were when he was watching, and said in none too innocent of a tone, “thank you, sir.” and left.

miguel watched the doors shut. his ears tuned into the sound of jessica’s voice and yours mingling down the hallway, further and further away. he waited until you two were so far out of earshot that he couldn’t tell your mumble apart from the next spider’s. and then, he croaked out lyla’s name.

“yes?” she dragged out her response, the knowing, teasing lilt to her voice was more grating on his wound nerves than usual.

“lock the doors to my office, please. and turn off the lights.” his voice was a hair above a whisper. lyla did as told and quietly. “send the… send the society a message that I won’t be in for the next two hours.”

“shall I copy miss drew, too?”

“yes.”

“and… anyone else?”

miguel rests his forehead against his fist, taking even breaths in and out. he could feel the talons beneath his skin beginning to extend. his breath shudders, “yes.”

lyla hums, “anything else, miguel?”

“take a break for the afternoon.”

he can’t see her and he doesn’t want to see her (not right now, anytime but now) but he knows her code inside out, knows she’s questioning him. “that’s a first. got some business to take care of?” his answer is but a low, embarrassed growl, and that’s enough to send her off laughing into cyberspace.

a beat passes, then two. it’s quiet all the way up here in his office without the sounds of the other spider-people or lyla or jessica or you.

thinking about you brings back those images from earlier and when he bites into his clenched fist, he feels the sharp pain of his fangs breaking skin. the pain distracts him for all of two seconds and then he’s thinking of you on top of him, holding your arm out for him to bite you, except it’s your throat this time. you’re hovering over him, the smell at your neck and the bob of your swallowing throat overwhelm him.

you’re sitting on his lap in this very chair, hands clasped at his shoulders or gripping the arm rests or tied together behind his head as you lean in, press yourself flush against him, and bare your throat to him. he’d never wanted to bite anyone that wasn’t a threat to him, never wanted to taste the warmth of their blood as it couldn’t help but trickle onto his tongue, never wanted to hear and feel the guttural moan from you as you sink down on him.

“sir”. you’d called him “sir”. mr. o’hara, you’d done that before, but never sir. a wet and wild whine leaves his throat when he remembers how your voice wrapped around it.

before he goes any further, he sucks in a breath and removes his fist from between his teeth, collecting himself enough to summon lyla once more. the AI didn’t even bother to look in his direction when she appeared on the surface of his desk, her fingers swiping at some book she’d pulled up in front of her. this next “yes?” was just as dragged out, just as knowing, just as teasing.

“three hours.” miguel’s voice cracks out. lyla fades into thin air with a single, three-fingered salute.

part five

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @sleepdeprived-barelyalive​​ @internal-soundtrack​​ @joceymoo​​ @x-ratedhimbo​​ @themedsaintworkin​​ @adamsloverboy​​ @giulia2372​​ @lemonrolls​​ @p1nkliquor​​ @syarblu​​ @trished​​ @serostapesweat​​ @lilith-lovecraft​ @epicy0n​

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 04:01 ⏤ALWAYS SAFE

SUM. : you bring james his lunch that you cooked yourself and almost get injured

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james ; girlfriend reader ; very angry james ; protective james ; team training ; drill accidents ; reader being caring and sweet ; reader is wifey material ; james is husband material

LENGTH : 0.8k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“James!” you shout across the rink, standing by one of your boyfriend’s coaches, Richard, who’s become like an uncle to you. The hockey captain doesn’t stop, however, unable to hear past the whistling wind by his ears atop his thick and sturdy headgear.

“Gonna have to shout louder than that, little lady ,” the older man chuckles, adjusting the cap on his head of silvering hair. 

You ponder to yourself for a moment before smirking, which makes Richard arch a curious brow at you, “Darling!” The instant you call across the ice rink, you see James’ head whip towards you before he grins widely behind the front guard of his head gear. Behind him, the rest of his team come to a skidding halt and also look over to your waving and cheering figure. You’ve become quite familiar with all of his teammates and they love to tease their captain for being so head over heels for you so the team begin snickering to themselves, some even cheekily whistling and nudging at James who pays them no mind, his sole focus fixed onto you.

“Baby!” he cheers, delight and excitement evident in his voice before he speeds his way over to you. Richard whistles for the rest of the team to run short drills while the ‘lovely couple’ have their lunch. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you gnaw at your bottom lip regretfully, a guilty look taking over your expression as James hurriedly takes off his headgear and gloves, revealing his sweat-soaked locks matted down and clinging onto his forehead, “Richard told me you didn’t eat anything-” because you wanted to wait for me…

“Don’t worry about it,” James says gently, his smile just as bright but much softer as he takes in your sweet expression. There’s so much love in his gaze, you feel your own heart bursting at the seams to attempt at reciprocating his adoration. James brings a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his kind stare; even though he appears sweaty, dishevelled and rugged from training, he’s just as handsome as ever, “you sounded really excited over the phone about cooking my lunch for me,” a heat crawls up your neck and explodes across your cheeks as James grins, his eyes staring lovingly at you, “and I was just as excited to eat what you so graciously cooked instead of the canteen food here,” James giggles to himself, dopey and carefree, “you cooked it just for me~ I’m so lucky~” 

You returned his wide grin and felt yourself losing your will to hide his surprise. He didn’t know it but you were only late because you went and bought his favourite treacle tart from his favourite bakery across town.  

“Actually~” you begin to reach down so that you can present the bakery take out box when you suddenly see James pull back, his spine fully erect as his eyes and ears become fully alert. The words were on your tongue, ready to question his odd behaviour when he suddenly shoots his arm up to the side; just as you were beginning to register a faint whistle in your ear, it was followed by a resounding WHHHIIIIP!

In James’s stretched out hand was a hockey puck. And it was on a one way course of high velocity towards you. Seeing this, anger flares up like the fuse of an explosive ready to violently detonate in James’s eyes.

“SHE’S! MY! FUCKING! GIRLFRIEND! WATCH IT! YOU FAT FUCK!” James’s booming voice cuts through the air and silences all activity on the rink, not only that but he was easily able to narrow down the perpetrator of the hazardous stray puck, “...WELL?!! SAY SOMETHING YOU DICK!” you look past James’s figure and lock eyes with guilty brown pools, likely the offender of your potential accident.

“S-sorry,” you hear his teammate stutter, which you accept with a small nod and place a gentle hand on James’s arm, attempting to calm him down and bring his attention back to you. As he slowly turns to you again, James slams the puck to the ground and kicks it away with his ice skate. 

“Are you okay, angel?” James asks, his voice soft and kind, a complete contrast to the booming, angry shout he just projected. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” your warm voice visibly soothes the hockey team captain and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh of relief, “...accidents happen James, please don’t lash out on the poor g-”

“Accident or not, hurting you— almost hurting you is deserving of a beat down from hell,”

Looking into his hostile but worried hazel eyes, you silently express your objection alongside some appreciation too. You’re thankful for his worry, his aggression over your safety even makes your heart flutter but he’s better than any violence. It takes a moment but James finally sighs and nods, a silent promise to watch himself and stay civil. 

Smiling softly, you lean up to kiss his lips, “thank you for saving me,” his lips smile against yours. 

“You’re always safe with me, princess,”

NAVI.

A/N : im a bit rusty on writing since i haven’t been able to write for a while from stressful home stuff but here’s me trying to get back into it with another ice hockey james au (inspired by another tiktok). hopefully, this will get me in the headspace to write good requests from my milestone event.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[scudslut]

A Summer Wasting

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 0.8k

warnings: nothing, just pure fluff 🫶🏻

The falling sun felt warm against your skin as you walk through the prison courtyard. You’ve always enjoyed the Georgian sunsets growing up; after a long day of brutal heat, the world gave a soft reprieve, illuminating the sky in its vast colours for anybody to enjoy, pessimist or not.

These days it was hard not to be… with death looming around each corner, the scent constantly coating the air that you’d honestly forgotten a time it hadn’t.

You found yourself searching for things. Things you could mindlessly enjoy, to bring small happinesses into this dull life. You took note of the sky as you walked, sunsets.

You continued, closing your eyes momentarily as you walked, trying to immerse yourself in that warm light fully. Right now you were looking for a mirror of sorts, figuring one of the car windows would serve you best in your task. Spotting the rusted Jeep closest, you head towards it climbing onto the hood.

You had just finished showering and remembered how much you loved braiding your hair as a kid, finding the simple task so peaceful whether you knew it back then or not. You remembered how happy you’d be waking up the next morning, taking them out to let the soft waves cascade down your shoulders. Braids, you had noted.

Situating yourself, you take in your reflection in the windshield and begin parting your hair in two sections to make twin French braids. The dirt-covered window didn’t offer much but it was enough.

Humming quietly under your breath, you start the process, folding each strand over and under and over again, listening to the crickets as they began their nightly melodies. You’re so invested in your movements, that you almost miss the sounds of footsteps on gravel approaching you.

“What are ya doin’ on there,” Daryl grunts, confusion and slight annoyance mixed within his tone.

“My hair,” you answer curtly with a small smile, you thought it was quite obvious.

He eyed you momentarily, seemingly still lost as to why you could be seated on the beloved Jeep. “Fer what?”

You finally turn to him, your hands holding your spot in the braid to not lose it, “Because I wanted to, and they look real pretty in the morning when I take them out,” you answer, turning back to your reflection, finishing the first braid.

“Ain’t gotta doll yerself up for the walkers y’know, they’ll eat ya just fine,” he quips causing you to huff, now in your own annoyance.

“It’s not for anybody but me, Daryl. It makes me happy, which isn’t something you come across easily these days,” You sigh.

Silence falls between the both of you, the crickets becoming even louder. You feel the vehicle dip beneath you and quickly snap your head around. You watch as Daryl plops himself up on the hood behind you, arms crossed over his knees, staring at you intently.

“What are you doing?” you ask bewildered. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend time together, it was just that typically you were the one to initiate any of it, following him around like a lost puppy the majority of the time.

“Wanna watch ya,” He simply replies, motioning for you to continue.

The next day you had spent in the gardens, tending to the small amount of crop your group had managed to accumulate since you took the prison. The sun once again was ruthless in its heat, beating down like drums and causing your wavy hair to stick to your neck.

You stood up from the soft dirt, dusting off your legs when you felt a presence sauntering up beside you. Lifting your head your eyes meet the familiar blue ones you had been gazing into just last night.

“Hey, Daryl,” you smile, receiving a small nod in return. He seemed to be contemplating something, unsure where to look as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Something I can do for you?”

He quickly shakes his head, ears already pink in embarrassment, “Nah, I- uh… I jus-,” he fumbles, “Ya look nice is all.”

The grin that overtakes your features is unavoidable, your heart swelling at his sweet compliment. You of course felt disgusting, sweaty, and mud-drenched from working all day, but the happiness that washed over you was unmistakable.

“Ya think?” you giggle, referencing to your dirty skin, “Good enough for the walkers?”

It’s small, but you catch it — the shy smile he hides as he bows his head in affirmation, “Oh ya, gonna start callin' you walker bait now,” he teases back and you can’t help the fit of giggles you break out into.

You share a few other words before he heads off toward the watch towers for his afternoon shift. You stare at his leather wings as his figure retreats in the distance, a fuzzy glow filling your senses.

Daryl, you note.

[visionsofmagic]

day 27: bi han [humiliation]

࿓ synopsis • your grandmaster gives you a lesson for the disrespect you have showed in front of others.

―❦ nsfw, ownership, pet names, rougness, possessiveness, fingering, cum eating, weight, power play (kinda), rudeness, sub!reader (much of it), f!reader, no use of y/n, ordering, oversitumulation, sensivity, fluff (at the end), ‘is all I guess?• 1.3k • while writing this I thought about how it would be if he’s the one who is dominated by the reader, so, we can see it in the future! *this bitch needs to be put down, soo* anyway, enjoy this one too because he’s so bi han! [kinktober m.]

“fuuuck! master!”

“that’s it slut, moan it louder, tell me who owns you as if your pussy isn’t telling it enough.”

he growls into your ear as he keeps pounding into you so mercilessly that you swear you will not be able to walk straight the following day for quite some time.

it doesn’t matter though, not when your grandmaster takes care of you with full of his attention even though it means educating you for something you didn’t mean to do in front of others – it just slipped out of your mouth without any control of your brain, instantly regretting it, but it was too late – even now, it’s not enough how he devours you, standing above you, chest touching your exposed breasts – the nipples harden whenever they meet with his cold chest, cock is buried deep inside you – leaving no room – all full.

“m-master!” you say, trying to hold still, be the good girl he wants to have after such disrespectful behavior of calling him by his name, bi han, the title was long forgotten at that moment. he didn’t say anything, face stayed behind the mask, yet, the way his gazes shifted from other assassins to you fast was proof of how fucked up you were – and his thrusts only proved your assumptions to be true. “please – I need – I – aggh!”

“you need?” he chuckles - mocks, hands holding your wrists, pushing them onto the bed beneath you that seems to be made of iron because it can’t be explained how it stands still after such strength coming from bi han – his weight only gives you another wave of pain mixed with the bliss of pleasure. 

“what made you think that you can demand anything from me whore? oh right,” he answers his own question by kneeling lower, nose touching your cheek, tears dripping onto the sheets – no fear is bloomed inside your chest, no, yet it is a bit thrilling seeing him like this – even eyes turning ice blue because of how mad he is. “your fucking brain is useless now, isn’t it? too occupied with my cock that you have become my cockslut.” 

another thrust, another swear – coming from him even though he tries to hide how good you’re making him feel with your pussy clenching around his length, soaking into it, legs wrapped around his back too, and another moan, coming from you – such sin that it makes you want to hide your pathetic self from his view – but you know he will never let that to happen; you being such a mess only because of him feed the power he has on you.

you are being weak like this is the most beautiful sight to him.

maybe it is the reason why he wants to gather more of the expressions you’re making by holding you from the waist, then, turning you over so that he can fuck you from behind as he compresses your body between his and the bed, the weight gets heavier, it becomes too much to handle – too hard to keep your sanity.

“yeah, cute whore,” he says, shoving his cock deep and hard – yet so slow as his chest covers your back, radiating coldness from his skin to your warm one. difference makes your mind go crazy – eyes looking at his smirking face from the corner, losing it all when his other free hand touches your abdomen, right at where his cock’s outline is appearing. “feel it? feel how my cock is filling you up fully? that’s what you’re made for – to have my cock whenever I want, being a fucking slut for it – for me – your grandmaster.”

he sounds as if he waits for a response from you, however, you know he doesn’t need one – not when you cum undone a few seconds later after his words of putting you so down – so low contrary to him – showing his power, and the weakness you have when it comes to him.

“yes, yes, yes! Master – ohhh – mmhh – yes, I, I – fuuck! aggh!” you say incoherently, your mind is dizzy, tongue rolls on its own, and eyes go white as the highness of climax hits you like he hits all right place – he wants to punish you yet why he keeps pounding all the right stops, giving you a pleasure you have never felt before. the answer is somewhere on your mind, the deepest place of it, waiting for it to be discovered – getting into the surface, but, it turns into darkness when he fucks you through your high, climax – your sensitive cunt squirts.

“say it,” he orders, you can sense it from his voice, “say who’s your owner, slut.”

“you!” you say without hesitation – no shame, a little maybe, full of pride. it would have felt so wrong – it should’ve – but with him, it sounds the right thing to be. “my grandmaster!”

“say my name,” he orders again, a bit calmer down, weight is there still – thrusting roughly into your abused pussy, using the wetness of it to go in and out easier. “moan it.”

and you do it right away, feels like if you don’t moan his name, the life will be meaningless. “bi han! ohhh – bi han!” 

crying between your moans, you feel his cum washing your walls after hearing you cry under him, moaning his name, raising your ass up while doing it to make it as effective as possible for him – such a naughty girl for him he likes to break.

your cries stop when bi han’s weight disappears in a sudden movement, 

confused, you try to look at him after getting yourself together – only to see him standing on his knees, left hand holding you from the waist to make your ass stay up as the free one getting closer to your core. 

“m-master?” you as in a low voice, like a whisper even, understanding what he is about to do and feeling something you can’t put a name on. 

his eyes look at yours for a moment, radiating both coldness and warmness, making them flow into your body and finally finding your soul from there. 

to see it better, you wink rapidly, getting rid of the last drip of your tears, and waiting for him to do what he wants.

he slowly goes out of your pussy – with each inch, his fingers find it immediately after, and when his cock finally leaves your cunt – you already begin to miss it, his fingers fill up the emptiness by pushing his semen into you in delight, smirking down at the mess he’s making out of your cunt and you only stay on your elbows, ass up, pussy is being wide open so that you can have all the semen he gives to you.

“made for me, just me, mine –“ he says again, reminding, looking at you again as he continues, fingers never leaving, playing with your folds, entering it in and out. “all mine,” he listens to lewd voices coming from your pussy, whimpers and swears that leave your mouth beautifully. 

“b-bi han – ooh –“

“pretty slut,” he says again, “my pretty slut though,” then his fingers covered with both your and his cum stays in front of your half-closed eyes, “open your fucking mouth.”

he watches how your mouth opens wide, taking his fingers, and licking them. his other hand stays on your hair now, caressing it, smiling proudly, “be a good girl and obey your grandmaster – know your place.” he says before leaving you free.

the moment your body collapses into the bed, a fear hits you – fear of being left behind, but, he proves it wrong when he picks you up after a while, taking you into the bath that he has prepared.

you look at his face in disbelief – hands on his chest, back and legs wrapped by his arms. “master –“

he rolls his eyes, “just stay quiet. I don’t want to hear any of your babbling about it.” you don’t say a single word after that – just smiling widely, and finding peace and affection under his arms as he takes care of you. you’re his favorite after all.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina ^^ @snowprincesa1 ^^ @dookiemeshibear ^^ @manuusrw

[lunaroserites]

Stunning

Pairing: Established Castiel x Winchester!Reader (Fem)

Summery: Based after Castiel became human, and loosely based off a post I seen about how after he became human he say Dean's face for the first time.

Words: 1365

Warning: Fluff, Kissing, a little sad with a happy ending, Canon Divergent (Canon is a suggestion). Not edited we die like Winchesters.

She sat comfortably on one of the plush couches in the library. Her coffee mug clutched between her hands, she was trying to absorb the heat from the ceramic mug. The bunker was cold in the mornings, the fans above that pulled fresh air in were noticeable in the quiet of the morning. 

Her morning tea brought her the heat she needed to get ready for the day. Her brothers had left her in a hurry last night after getting a frantic call from Castiel telling them the angels fell and he lost his grace. She wanted to go but her brothers said it would be best if she stayed home and manned the phone, hunters would be calling for assistance and she was best to answer their calls. 

Her job as a hunter was picking up for Bobby, she would spend days on end researching with him, learning from him, she took over for him when he passed. Her heart clenched thinking back to the elder hunter she viewed as a father.

Her brothers had called an hour ago to tell her they would be home soon and they had her angel in tow. Well he wasn’t an angel anymore she figured. Losing his grace meant he was pretty much human now. 

The bunker door banged open, making her jump as the peaceful quiet was shattered by the sound of heavy boots and grunts as three of the most important men in her life made their way to where she was curled up. One of Dean's flannels covered most of her upper body, the sleeves rolled up. She never slept well alone so she would wear one of Dean’s flannels and she would use Sam's blanket and pillow that Castiel would use during the night as she slept next to him. She would surround herself in their safety. 

She looked at her brothers, Dean was the first down the stairs he gave her a grim look, she searched his face for something to indicate what she should be prepared for. He gave her very little. Sammy was right behind him and his face was less grim but not much more optimistic looking. The last was Castiel, and he looked awful. He looked exhausted, he looked cold. He looked completely lost. He hadn’t looked at her yet, his face downcast as he made his way down the stairs, he gripped the rail harder than she had ever seen him grip it before. 

She stood before Castiel made it to the bottom of the stairs, she walked forward and stood just behind Dean, her hands wrapped around his arm, he brought his free hand up and rubbed soothing circles on her hand. Sammy stood beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, he leaned down, “he’s a little overwhelmed,” he whispered to her. 

Castiel was at the bottom landing still looking down but focused on his hands in front of him. She nodded at her brother and took slow steps forward before she stopped a couple paces from the former Angel. He still hadn’t looked up from his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his, she wanted to sooth his fidgeting fingers, ease his worries. Make him feel better. 

“Cas,” she said quietly, his heart fluttered at how softly she spoke to him. Her voice brought him some peace, it didn’t sound much different from while he was an angel. The brothers had sounded different. Much more gruff, not as smooth. Her voice was still like little bells that chimed in perfect harmony. Her voice was music to his ears. 

She moved closer to him, her other hand touching his cheek gently, she was trying to coax his face upwards so she could look at him fully. He leaned his cheek into her touch, her touch was feather light, gentle and soothing. Her skin felt like a warm blanket to him, her fingers trembling against his cheek. He could feel her worry roll off her in waves. She always wore how she was feeling on her sleeve, he always knew how she was feeling. She was always one of the easiest to understand even while he was Angel. 

“Castiel, look at me” she cooed gently at him, he lifted his face and had his eyes closed. He was afraid of her looking into his eyes and not seeing the Angel he was and only seeing the shell that was left. She ran her thumb across his cheek, a few of his tears slipped past his closed eyes. That was a sensation he was not going to get used to anytime soon. “Please love.” 

He opened his eyes and looked at her face. He truly looked at her face, for the first time he saw her face. She was beautiful. Her skin was speckled with years of living, laugh lines, crows feet. She looked like she truly lived. While an angel he had never seen her face for what it truly was. But now he sees every pore, every wrinkle, every freckle. Her eyes were a beautiful green like Dean’s, her lips a soft pink and her hair was a lovely mahogany color. 

He took his clenched hands from her and placed them on her face, inspecting her, feeling her skin for the first time. He had touched her before but never had it felt this real. It was so overwhelming, his heart was beating loudly in his ears as he stared deeply into her eyes. Her lips parted as she took a sharp breath when he touched her. 

Then she smiled at him, “Castiel.” 

“You are stunning,” Castiel said breathlessly. He brought her face towards his and kissed her gently. The feeling of her lips on his was almost too much for his mortal heart to handle. He hadn’t imagined what it would be like, to feel life like a human, he hadn’t imagined she would feel this perfect. 

Someone cleared their throat behind the two, Castiel reluctantly pulled back from her and she gave him a sweet smile. 

“So this my Castiel now?” She said softly, her eyes searching his face. 

“This is your Castiel now,” his voice sounded the same, he looked the same, a little rugged and his lips felt the same. The only difference was the lack of soft thumb she would feel buzzing under his skin. The thumbing would get stronger under her touch. That was the only thing that was gone. 

“Well I’m okay with that,” she pulled him to her side and wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was just happy he was alive and he was here with her.

Dean looked between his baby sister and Castiel, when they first started dating he was against it. Hell he still didn’t like it. Castiel promised him he would protect her with his life. Something he truly meant as he had risked his life more than once to keep her safe. Now that Cas was human he didn’t know how protecting her would go, but he knew Castiel would do whatever it took to keep her safe. 

Sam had left the library and went to find some food for the four of them. He had noticed his blanket on the couch, knowing she stayed there the whole night, waiting for them to come home. Dean’s flannel hung loosely off her frame, and he figured the pillow that was next to his blanket was Castiel’s pillow. 

He hated leaving her here alone, she was never good with it, someone always stayed with her or she was with them. Ever since her Castiel got together he always made sure she wasn’t alone for long periods of time and he would constantly update her on his whereabouts. Something Sam appreciated greatly from the former Angel. He looked at the fridge, being held up with a piece of electrical tape, there was a picture of the four of them. They were all smiling, she insisted it be taped to the fridge, a reminder that no matter what they had each other and there was room for happiness in this fucked up world. 

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Take my medicine

Request: please please PLEASE DO SOME ANGSTY SMUT PLEASE IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES

Warnings: smut, face fucking, hair pulling, degradation, praise, female and male receiving, edging, drool/ spit.

A/N: as you wish anon… (; I enjoy how feral some of you all are because same… I went kinda feral with this one kinda just remembering how I heard medicine live. Who knew a man could make me scream so loud🤭🤭🤭 this one shot literally does not have a plot I just wrote and it came out… like this? Enjoy!

-

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Harry’s voice was annoyed his brows raised as he kept his eyes on you. You and him had been in a fake “relationship” for over two months now and it was starting to get to you. You were both acting so lovey dovey, he was all over practically you all the time for publicity but in the end you never got anything. You never got touched. You never got kissed meaningfully. You only got your hand held which was just stupid. You didn’t want the sentimental things, you wanted to be put in your place— you wanted to lose control. You wanted Harry to control you.

“Are you really that daft Harry?” You raised your voice at him and he stared at you annoyed, his back straightening and he exhaled “do enlighten me darling.” He kept a stoic look on his face and you glared into his eyes, a few steps between you both but the tension remained thick. Constant. Never ending. “You hug me and touch me when we’re in front of the cameras and when we’re alone you act like… you act like this!” You waved your hands about, realisation settling upon Harry’s face as he studied you carefully. Were you really in need of being touched by him? How flattering.

“I don’t want our relationship to be fake! I want us to mean something! I don’t want to feel like a thing someone can pass around I just want to feel loved!” You were spiralling into a complete meltdown, practically yelling the same thing over and over again at him watching as he slowly got closer to you before his hand came up to cup against your cheek before he leaned in capturing your lips in a deep sensual kiss, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, as you melted into the kiss body dropping slightly as you tried to move into his body- wanting his lips upon yours forever. He then eventually pulled away, you breathing more soflty “we signed a contract, y/n…” “it hasn’t stopped you any other time.” You quickly bit back at the number of girls he had slept with and “fake relationships” he had, had.

He let out a small chuckle lightly stroking his thumb against your lower lip as he studied you carefully before he shook his head “you’re unbelievable.” He slowly pulled your lower lip down his own lips parting as he admired your pretty lips watching as your plump lip finally snapped back into place “Harry please…” you whispered his green eyes studying you carefully, analysing every part of you before he hummed- he really didn’t realise how much you needed him. How desperate you were for him. It was sweet really… cute even. “Please.” You whispered again and he smirked “please show me you love me even if you don’t mean it… please.”

He didn’t let you say another word as he kissed you deeply, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, hands playing with his hair as he gripped onto your hips pulling your waist into him as he leaned you into the nearby wall the sound of heavy breathing and you both making out being the only sound audible for a while before Harry’s hand snuck into your hair grasping onto your hair so he could yank your head backwards lowering his lips to your throat as he scattered kisses against your skin keeping a tight grip on your hair as you whined softly feeling your pussy flutter desperately. “What do you want? What do you need, hm?” “You” you whispered desperately fully submitting yourself to him and a soft chuckle left his lips, before his grip on your hair loosened making you whine in disappointment,

“Down.” He commanded you, your eyes widening slightly that disappointment disappearing into nothingness as your knees practically buckled beneath you as you allowed yourself to fall to your knees gazing up at him through your lashes your eyes wide and hungry, desperate for him. You watched as he unbuckled his belt, before pulling his jeans down and his boxers as he took his cock into his hand beginning to pump up and down, pre-cum spilling out of the tip as you watched with wide excited eyes “you want me to fuck your face?” He questioned the lewd words making your body throb with excitement and you nodded desperately making him chuckle “use your words.” You blinked slightly dumbfounded “yes… please…”

He seemed satisfied with your words before he gripped onto your hair tightly grabbing a fistful of it and yanking it into a makeshift pony tail before he without even warning you slid his cock into your mouth- the head hitting the back of your throat making you gag and moan all at once, Harry groaning slightly as he tilted his head back in pleasure his eyes fluttering shut momentarily only to focus back down on you, tightening his grip before he began to move his hips along with your head, forcing your head to bob up and down over and over again as his hips moved in time with your head— every time your head moved forwards he’d thrust in deeper, drool practically escaping from your mouth as it dribbled down your chin as he continued to fuck your mouth his grip on your hair not letting up as you continued moaning desperately, one of your hands reaching down to begin to play with yourself as your body rocked with every movement of his, his eyes watching you

“You can play…” his words were gruff and commanding “but you can’t cum. Not until I tell you, you can.” You were a moaning gagging mess but still you listened, sliding two fingers into your pussy and pumping them in and out your slick wet cunt, your fingers easily pumping in and out Harry watching the pleasure build up within you and fuck was it beautiful, the way your mouth massaged his cock so well and the way your mouth was full and eyes rolling into the back of your head every so often had Harry weak at the knees and before he could’ve even stopped himself he was coming, hard right in your mouth, you moaning as he rode out his own orgasm yet his eyes remained watching you carefully watching as your hips bucked your moans growing louder, sending more vibrations through his cock “fuck-“ he tightened his grip on your hair watching as your face twisted and he pulled out of your mouth “stop.” He commanded your fingers halting before removing themselves from your aching heat “Harry please…” “shh. Good girl. Get up. Go lay down on the bed.”

You could barely stand but you did managed to with his help as you wobbled over to the bed, thighs trembling, before you collapsed down onto the bed, the bed creaking as Harry crawled towards you his hands instantly pressing against your thighs spreading your legs further apart as he lowered down to your heat which was clenching around nothing, desperate, he chuckled “needy hm?” You nodded fervently and Harry wasted no time in licking a strip up your pussy before he took your clit in between his lip, sucking and nipping as your hips bucked whines leaving your lips as you breathed heavily two of his fingers inserting into your pussy as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you curling them every so often at such an angle they continuously hit your G-spot over and over again, making your hips squirm and Buck your breathing heavy. Harry fluttered his tongue against your clit over and over again as you whined, him feeling the way you clenched around his fingers and he removed his fingers immediately “ah ah ah… patience y/n… patience…” he spoke before standing from the bed, making you whine, watching as he moved to crouch by the bed somerhing opening before you heard a familiar low buzzing seeing a familiar vibrator held in his hand

“Harry what the fuc-“ “mind your language, y/n. Shh… we’re in a relationship. We’re exploring one another aren’t we?” He chuckled softly before settling in between your thighs again the vibrator on the highest setting which instantly made it impossible to hold back, Harry holding it there with one hand his other hand tracing along your pussy as his tongue soon delved into your heat, tongue fucking you so deeply you were certain you were seeing stars— hell you couldn’t remember your own name at one point, screams and cries beginning to leave your lips as he kept the vibrator pressed to your clit “cum… cum right fucking now.” He demanded and as you let yourself go, Harry admired you, watching how beautiful you looked. How perfect you looked. And as he helped you ride your orgasm out he smirked slightly, until eventually your shaking thighs fell limp, your body relaxing- satisfied… eyes soon watching as he hovered above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss

“I love you.” He murmured into your lips, before pulling back to look into your eyes “and I mean it… I always mean it.” He cupped your cheek in his hand before capturing your lips in another deep sensual kiss. Maybe this little fake relationship would turn into a much bigger problem for the both of you.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

I’m Still Standing.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

author's note - this concept came into my head really randomly and it’s the most angsty thing i’ve ever written on this account, so i hope it’s good for you all!!

please understand that i’m not trying to portray harry’s fans as people who would laugh about scars, i made this up so it would fit the outlook for the story.

word count - 6.8k

in which, you and harry first met when you auditioned to be a member of his love band, since then, your relationship has only just got better, friends turned to best friends and best friends slowly morphed into lovers. it was definitely love at first sight. but in december of 2022, you were the victim of an accidental road injury, you were hit by a car. it took a long time for you to recover, your fiance tried to cancel the shows so that he could care for you but you didn't want him to miss anything, so whilst he toured oceania and asia, you stayed home. june, 2023 was when you thought you were ready to appear on stage again, but that all takes a turn for the worst when some fans make some nasty remarks, but harry's quick to remind you, that you're still standing better than you ever did.

trigger warnings - mentions of panic attacks and car accidents, mentions of scars and hospital terms, mentions of mental health and body dysmorphia.

You stand backstage, your fingers nervously strumming the strings of your guitar, trying to get it into tune. This audition for Harry Styles' tour band feels like the culmination of all your hard work and dedication. 

The stakes are high, and the nerves threaten to consume you.

You didn’t really know what you were doing there, your mother had recorded you playing your guitar in front of your dog Monty and had posted it on her facebook, loads of people saw it and that was when you got an email from Columbia Records requesting that you come in for an audition, apparently Mr. Styles was looking for someone to join his band for his 2018, Live On Tour, tour.

To say you were nervous would definitely be an understatement, your hands were shaking and you didn’t really know how to stop them from doing it.

Just as doubt starts to creep in, the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention. 

Your eyes go wide when you turn around and there he is, Harry Styles himself, leaning casually against the doorframe with that captivating smile on his face.

He was wearing a black loose fitted shirt, with flamingos adorned over the material, the buttons not fully done up so you could see the tips of his swallow tattoos peaking through, his legs were fitted with a pair of beige trousers and some yellow loafers attached to his feet.

He looked good.

"Hey there," he says in his velvety voice, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "You must be the talented guitarist I've been hearing so much about."

For some reason, your breath caught in your throat, resulting in you losing the ability to respond back to him.

Your heart skips a beat, and you struggle to find your voice. "Uh, yeah, that's me. I'm a big fan, by the way."

Way to embarrass yourself, (Y/N).

Harry chuckles, his laughter like music to your ears. "Well, I'm flattered. But remember, I'm just a guy with a few decent songs. No need to be nervous."

A few decent songs, he definitely needed to be humbled. His songs were like going to space, beautiful and rare, there was hardly any music like his nowadays.

His words instantly put you at ease, a wave of relief washing over you. You offer a shy smile and respond, "Thanks, Mr. Styles. I needed that."

He steps closer, his eyes fixated on your guitar. "Mind if I take a look?"

Harry Styles wanted to hold your guitar.

Harry Styles, heartthrob, wanted to hold your guitar, how could you ever say not to that.

Control yourself.

You nod and hand him the instrument, your fingers lightly brushing against his. Call it cliche, but a jolt of electricity shoots through you, and you can't help but blush. 

Harry strums a few chords, effortlessly coaxing a beautiful melody from the strings.

"Sounds fantastic," Harry remarks, returning the guitar to your waiting hands. "I think you're going to fit right in."

Your confidence begins to soar as Harry's charm wraps around you like a warm embrace. The audition becomes less daunting with every word he speaks, his encouragement laced with playful banter.

"So, do you always have this effect on musicians?" you tease, a twinkle in your eye.

Harry smirks, leaning in closer. "Only the ones who make my heart skip a beat."

Your breath once again caught, you made his heart skip a beat?

His words catch you off guard, and your cheeks flush with a mix of surprise and excitement. You try to maintain your composure, but deep down, you can't deny the flutter of anticipation building within you.

He was really good looking.

You didn’t even know that you were auditioning until the audition progressed, your fingers gliding effortlessly across the strings, the music resonating with every fiber of your being. Harry's presence fuels your performance, his voice blending seamlessly with your guitar, creating a harmonious masterpiece. It's as if you've been playing together for years.

Maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

In between your audition, Harry flashes you a sly grin and quips, "You know, if you keep playing like that, I might just fall head over heels for you."

You blushed once again.

Your heart skips a beat, and you laugh nervously, attempting to hide the blush that creeps up your neck. "I think I'd be okay with that."

Did you really just say that?

The air in the room crackles with a charged energy, and you find yourself lost in a dance of music and flirtation. Each note you play is a secret message, a longing that speaks louder than words. And in Harry's eyes, you catch glimpses of a shared desire.

By the time you reach the final chords, the room erupts in applause. Harry rises from his seat, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You were incredible," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I'd love for you to join the tour."

I’m sorry, what?!

You can hardly believe your ears. The moment you've been dreaming of is here. With a wide smile, you respond, "I'd be honored, Mr. Styles."

He reaches out, his hand finding yours, and pulls you into a warm embrace. As his arms encircle you, you can't help but notice the racing of your heart and the way his touch sends a surge of electricity through your veins. The world around you fades into the background, and all that exists in this moment is the two of you, entangled in a moment of undeniable connection.

Harry's voice, barely above a whisper, caresses your ear. "Welcome to the band, love."

You lean back slightly, looking into his eyes, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty swirling within you. The unspoken tension between you is palpable, and you find yourself wondering if Harry feels the same magnetic pull that you do.

Maybe you were just imagining it.

As you break from the embrace, a mischievous smile tugs at the corners of Harry's lips. "I must admit, there's a part of me that's relieved you're joining the band. I wouldn't want to miss out on the opportunity to get to know you better."

Your heart skips a beat for about the millionth time that day, the words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities. A playful glint dances in his eyes, and you find yourself being drawn closer to him, your bodies now only inches apart.

"Getting to know you better sounds like a delightful prospect," you reply, your voice laced with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity.

Harry leans in, his voice a seductive murmur. "Maybe we could grab a drink after rehearsal? I'd love to hear more about the person behind that incredible talent."

A rush of warmth floods through you, and you nod eagerly. "That sounds perfect."  

That was just over three months ago.

So far, you were rehearsing for his first tour as a solo member and things had been going great. You had met Sarah, Mitch, Clare and Adam five days after your audition and instantly got along with the two of them, calling them your best friends within two weeks of knowing them.

As for Harry, things were definitely starting to get better with the two of you. If you seemed to be having a bad day, he would find a way to put a smile on your face. He was cute like that.

As you join the band and embark on rehearsals, Harry's presence continues to fill you with a sense of comfort and confidence. His playful banter and infectious laughter become the soundtrack to your journey together.

During breaks, you steal stolen glances, your eyes locking and holding for longer than necessary. The air brims with unspoken tension, each encounter tinged with the promise of something more.

One evening, after an intense rehearsal, Harry takes you aside, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. 

"I've been thinking about us, you know," he admits, his voice filled with honesty. "There's something between us, something I can't ignore."

You weren’t sure you could ignore it for much longer either.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your own feelings echoing his words. "I feel it too, Harry. It's like we've found a connection that's hard to put into words."

He steps closer, his hand reaching up to gently brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Would it be too forward of me to say that I'm falling for you? That being around you makes everything feel right?"

No…never.

A smile tugs at your lips, your heart soaring with newfound courage. "It wouldn't be too forward at all, Harry. I'm falling for you too."

In that moment, the world around you fades away once again. It's just the two of you, standing in the quiet embrace of a shared revelation. And as your lips meet in a tender, passionate kiss, you know that this journey—this tour with Harry Styles—will be more than just a musical experience. It will be a love story for the ages, where the strings of your guitar intertwine with the strings of your hearts, creating a melody that will resonate long after the final notes have faded.

You had finally found the one.

Five years.

Five years you had been in a relationship with Harry and during those five years, the relationship between the two of you had done nothing but flourish.

On your anniversary in 2020, he proposed to you. He got down on one knee in your shared London house and there was no doubt that you were going to say yes.

You adored the man with every fiber of your body.

You find yourself sitting on the cosy couch in your shared hotel in Werchter, Belgium, a gentle warmth filling the room. Your fingers trace absent-minded patterns on the fabric of the blanket thrown over your lower body, keeping you warm as you let your mind wander, reflecting on the journey that has brought you to this very moment.

You cautiously cross the road, anticipation pulsating through your veins as you head towards the café to meet your boyfriend.  The air is crisp, carrying a hint of autumn's arrival, and the city buzzes with its usual energy.

The road was safe when you crossed, until it wasn’t.

In the midst of the bustling crowd, a danger lurks, unseen and unforgiving. 

A drunk driver, his senses impaired, careens towards you without warning. Time slows down, and your instincts kick in, desperately trying to avoid the inevitable collision.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you attempt to evade the oncoming car, but the impact is inevitable. 

Pain sears through your body as you're flung through the air, crashing onto the unforgiving pavement. The world spins, and darkness descends upon you like a heavy curtain.

Inside the café, Harry sits near the window, a cup of untouched coffee growing cold before him. As he waits, a knot of anxiety tightens in his stomach. Suddenly, the tranquility of the moment shatters, and his gaze is drawn to the horrific scene unfolding just outside.

That’s when he sees you.

Time slows to a torturous crawl as Harry's eyes widen in disbelief. He watches in helpless horror as the car strikes you, his heart pounding in his ears. With a mix of disbelief and raw emotion, he stumbles out of his seat, knocking over his chair in the process.

His voice trembles as he shouts your name, the desperation and anguish evident in his cries. "No! Oh God, no! Somebody help! Call an ambulance!"

Passersby freeze, their eyes widening in shock as they witness the aftermath of the accident. Harry's voice breaks, the weight of the situation crashing down upon him. He drops to his knees beside your motionless body, trembling fingers reaching out to touch your cold skin.

Tears blur his vision as he cradles your face, his voice choked with pain. "Please, wake up…(Y/N)... Don't leave me like this, m’angel… I can't lose you."

Amidst the chaos, someone steps forward, dialing emergency services and relaying the dire situation. The sound of sirens grows closer, a faint glimmer of hope in the midst of despair.

As paramedics arrive on the scene, Harry is forced to release his grip on you, not without giving a fight, another paramedic holds him back, running soft circles onto him as his hands shake uncontrollably. He watches, a mix of fear and agony etched on his face, as they work to stabilize your fragile form.

His heart shatters with each passing second that lacks a sign of life. He whispers desperate prayers into the void, his voice trembling with emotion. "Please, don't take her away from me...I can’t…I can't live without….her…"

Finally, a flicker of movement, a gasp of breath escapes your lips. Harry's eyes widen in disbelief, his heart surging with a renewed sense of hope. "She's breathing…she’s breathing, you saw that…right?!" he exclaims, his voice filled with equal parts relief and disbelief.

As the paramedics prepare to transport you to the hospital, Harry is forced to release his grip on your hand, his gaze filled with a mix of longing and determination. 

"I'll be right behind you," he promises, his voice steady with resolve.

Alone in the hospital waiting room, Harry paces anxiously, his mind clouded with thoughts of what could have been lost. He replays the accident over and over in his mind, tormented by the what-ifs that haunt him.

He had been waiting just over an hour and half for someone to come and talk to him. Give him an update on what was going on with you.

Hours stretch into an agonizing eternity as he clings to the faint hope that you will recover. The sterile hospital walls offer no solace, and he finds himself retracing the steps that led you both to this point, questioning the fragility of life and the unpredictable turns it can take.

Finally, a weary doctor emerges from behind the double doors, his expression a mix of weariness and cautious optimism. Harry's heart lurches in his chest as he rushes towards the doctor, desperation etched on his face.

"How is she? Is she going to be alright?" Harry's voice trembles with a mix of fear and longing, his hands clenched into tight fists.

You needed to be okay.

The doctor meets Harry's gaze, his eyes filled with compassion. "She's stable now. It was a close call, but she's a fighter. She sustained some serious injuries, but we're doing everything we can to help her recover."

Relief washes over Harry, but it's quickly replaced by a wave of guilt. He clenches his jaw, his voice strained. "I should have been there to protect her. I should have... I should have done something."

The doctor places a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Accidents happen, and it's not your fault. What matters now is supporting her through her recovery."

Harry nods, a mixture of determination and guilt playing across his features. "I'll be there for her. Every step of the way."

Days blend into nights as Harry sits vigil by your bedside, his fingers tracing the contours of your hand, desperate for any sign of improvement. The beeping machines and sterile hospital environment become your temporary reality, a stark contrast to the vibrant world you both once knew.

He called his mother about what happened to you and she and Gemma took the first flight to Los Angeles, so they could support not only you but him as well.

They forced him to go home and change his clothes, promising to call him if there was any news.

Sarah, Clare, Mitch, Adam and Jeff and Glenne were by your bedside as much as they could be but with there busy schedules it made it harder for them to be there.

In moments of silence, Harry finds solace in sharing memories of your love and laughter, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and longing. He whispers words of encouragement and love, as if the sheer force of his devotion could bring you back to consciousness.

And then, one day, a miracle unfolds. Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, confusion clouds your gaze. But as you take in the sight of Harry, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, recognition dawns, and a feeble smile graces your lips.

"I'm here, love. You're going to be okay," Harry whispers, his voice laced with relief. He brushes a gentle hand against your cheek, his touch a testament to his unwavering love and devotion.

A month into your recovery, was when Harry finally realised just how bad the whole ordeal was affecting you.

Harry arrives home from grocery shopping, his arms laden with bags filled with fresh produce and essentials. He enters the bedroom, expecting to find you in your usual spot, engrossed in a book or working on a project. But what he sees stops him in his tracks.

There you sit, in your wheelchair, wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts. Your eyes are fixed on the floor-length mirror before you, your gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and frustration. Harry's heart skips a beat at the sight, his instinct to protect and comfort you kicking into high gear.

His eyes never leave your form in the mirror. With a deep breath, he approaches you, his voice soft and filled with love. "Hey, beautiful. What's on your mind?"

You startle at his voice, a mixture of embarrassment and sadness crossing your face. "Harry, look at me. I can't stand on my own. I feel so... broken."

You were struggling, really fucking struggling.

Harry kneels down beside you, his hands gently grasping yours. His gaze meets yours in the mirror, his voice filled with determination. "But look at everything you've overcome. You've faced unimaginable challenges, and yet here you are, still standing."

Tears well up in your eyes, a mixture of gratitude and self-doubt coursing through your veins. "I don't always feel strong, Harry. Sometimes, I feel defeated by my own body."

Harry's thumb strokes the back of your hand in a soothing motion. "I know it's not easy, and it's okay to have moments of doubt. But remember, you're not defined by what you can or can't do physically. Your strength shines through in countless other ways."

His words resonate within you, a glimmer of hope flickering in the depths of your soul. You take a deep breath, allowing his words to wash over you. "I guess... I just miss feeling independent, like I used to."

Harry's eyes never leave yours, his voice filled with unwavering support. "You are independent, love. It may look different now, but that doesn't diminish your spirit or your worth. Remember the chorus of that song by Elton John? 'I'm still standing, yeah yeah yeah.'"

That was the song that was getting you through the hard days, the lyrics of the song reminded you that even though you had been through hell and back, you were in fact still standing.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as the lyrics echo in your mind. You meet Harry's gaze, a flicker of determination in your eyes. "You're right. I'm still standing, and I won't let this define me."

Harry's face lights up with pride, his voice brimming with admiration. "That's my girl. Together, we'll face anything that comes our way. We'll rewrite the rules and show the world just how resilient we are."

You lean into him, finding solace in his embrace. In his arms, you feel a renewed sense of strength and acceptance. With Harry by your side, you know that you'll navigate this journey together, overcoming obstacles with unwavering love and unwavering determination.

As the echoes of Elton John's lyrics fade into the air, you realize that standing on your own two feet is not just about physical ability. It's about resilience, love, and the unwavering spirit that resides within. And together, you and Harry are an unbreakable force, ready to face any challenge that comes your way, still standing.

Memories of the accident resurface, the one that left you with a broken leg, a few broken ribs, and scars that tell a story of resilience and strength. The pain you endured during those days in the hospital, the grueling physical therapy sessions, and the long road to recovery—all of it has shaped you into the person you are today.

The accident left you with a lot of scars and sometimes, you didn’t like how they were on your body, you didn’t want them, you shouldn’t have had them in the first place had it not been for the drunk driver that had struck you.

One time, Harry had caught you sitting in the wheelchair the hospital provided you with and was sitting in front of the floor length mirror, eyes wet and feeling disgusted with the way your body now looked.

Lost in your thoughts, you feel a comforting presence beside you. Your fiancé, the person who has been your rock throughout this entire journey, sits down, his eyes filled with love and concern.

"What's on your mind, love?" Harry asks gently, their voice laced with a mixture of tenderness and curiosity.

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to share your thoughts. "I've been thinking a lot about everything that's happened, about how far I've come since the accident. The fear I had of losing my ability to play the guitar, to perform on stage, has slowly transformed into a burning desire to reclaim what I love."

Your fiancé listens intently, their hand finding yours, providing a comforting anchor in the depths of your vulnerability.

"I think I'm ready," you continue, your voice filled with determination. "I'm ready to join you back on tour as your guitarist. I want to step back into the spotlight, to feel the exhilaration of playing for a crowd again."

A flicker of excitement dances in their eyes as they take in your words. "Are you sure, love? I mean, I've seen your strength and resilience, but I want to make sure you're ready for the demands and challenges of touring."

You had thought it over. So many times, you kissed touring with him and not being on stage with him in what felt like forever, you just wanted a little bit or norm back in your life.

You smile, your gaze meeting theirs. "I am sure. The accident made me realize that life is too short to let fear hold me back. I want to embrace every opportunity that comes my way, and being on stage with you is the greatest opportunity of all."

Your fiancé's face lights up with a mixture of pride and love. "I've always believed in you, in your talent and your unwavering spirit. I can't express how happy I am to hear you say this."

Their words fill your heart with warmth, and you lean in, your forehead resting against theirs. "I couldn't have done it without your love and support. You've been my rock, my inspiration. And now, it's time for us to conquer the stage together."

24th June, 2023.

The day you would be back on stage, and reclaiming your spot next to Mitch as Harry’s guitarists.

As you stand before the mirror in the dressing room, your heart pounds with a mix of excitement and apprehension. It's been seven long months since the accident, the incident that left you scarred physically and emotionally. But tonight, you're stepping back onto the stage alongside your fiancé, the incredibly talented man that held your heart captive.

You peel off your clothes, revealing the remnants of the past—a tapestry of scars that litter your body. Each mark tells a story, a chapter of pain and healing. Your fingers trace the scars delicately, memories flooding back with each touch.

Your fingertips glide over the long, jagged scar on your stomach, a reminder of the surgery that saved your life. It stretches across your abdomen, a visible testament to the fragility of existence. You can still recall the sterile scent of the hospital, the sensation of being under anaesthesia, and the sound of the surgeon's voice assuring you that everything would be alright.

As you trace the path of the scar, tears well up in your eyes. The emotions overwhelm you—the fear, the vulnerability, the gratitude for being alive. You hastily wipe away the tears, refusing to let them consume you. You don't want Harry to see you like this—fragile, still grappling with the remnants of the accident.

Taking a deep breath, you collect yourself and begin to change into the performance outfit meticulously chosen for tonight's show. With each article of clothing, you shed the emotional weight and don a cloak of resilience.

But it's not just the scar on your stomach that serves as a reminder. Your fingers move upward, skimming over the faint marks on your chest. They are the remnants of broken ribs, the physical proof of the impact that threatened to shatter your entire being.

As your fingers dance across the scars, a mixture of emotions swirls within you. You remember the excruciating pain that radiated through your chest, making each breath a struggle. The nights spent gasping for air, wondering if you would ever be able to play guitar again. And yet, here you are, on the verge of reclaiming that stage.

When you finally emerge from the room, you plaster a smile on your face, determined to project confidence. Harry turns to you, his eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"Hey, love, you look absolutely stunning!" he exclaims, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

You glanced down at what you were wearing, nodding softly. You had decided to wear short sleeves tonight due to the humidity of the Belgian air and had gotten Elin and Madi to cover up the scars on your arms with foundation, if you had to get through this performance tonight without a hitch, you needed to make sure the fans didn’t see the state of your arms.

It wasn’t second nature to the fans and the world that you had been the victim of a car accident, paps had eaten the story up and it wasn’t long before the world were all feeling sorry for you, and telling you ‘get well soon.’

It wasn’t second nature that the fans knew you and Harry were in a relationship. They were happy for him, some fans weren’t, some were bitter but the majority were kind hearted.

The fans knew not to expect you to be on stage for a while, they liked your replacement , you just hoped they didn’t resent you for reclaiming your spot.

"Thank you," you reply, your voice tinged with a hint of nerves. "I'm so excited to perform with you again, sweet boy. It's been too long."

Harry nods, his eyes filled with adoration. "I've missed having you by my side on stage, baby. Tonight is going to be incredible."

When you first walked onto the stage with the rest of the band, the crowd cheered, happy to see you back.

You wanted to perform at Wembley when he was there but the 90,000 people just made your nerves too hard to get rid of.

It had gotten to the part of the show where Harry introduced the band helping him perform tonight.

The crowd erupts into thunderous applause, their cheers blending with the pounding of your heart.

Harry steps forward, his charm radiating as he takes hold of the microphone. "Thank you all so much!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "Tonight has been incredible, and I want to take a moment to introduce you to the extraordinary people who make this show possible."

The spotlight shifts, illuminating each member of the band in turn as Harry introduces them, acknowledging their talent and contributions. The crowd roars with approval, showing their love and appreciation for the musicians who have taken them on this unforgettable journey.

"And last, but certainly not least," Harry says, his eyes glimmering with affection as he turns toward you, "I want to welcome someone very special back to the stage tonight. Please give a round of applause for my incredible fiancée, who's been through so much and is now here, shining brighter than ever. Welcome back, (Y/N)!"

The crowd erupts into thunderous applause once again, their cheers echoing throughout the venue. The sound washes over you, filling you with warmth and a renewed sense of purpose. Harry walks over to you, his smile radiant as he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"I'm so proud of you, love," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. "You're incredible."

Touched by his words and the overwhelming support of the crowd, you turn to face the audience, a beaming smile adorning your face. You raise a hand in gratitude, acknowledging their cheers and the immense love they've shown.

The performance took a turn for the worst when Harry was performing Matilda.

As Harry takes the centre stage, his voice resonates through the venue, captivating the crowd with his heartfelt rendition of "Matilda." You stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder with Sarah, Madi, and Elin, proud to be part of his performance.

However, as the heat intensifies under the stage lights, the foundation covering the scars on your arms begins to melt away, slowly revealing the marks beneath. Unbeknownst to you, a group of fans standing in the front row notices the scars and begins to snicker and laugh, their insensitivity cutting through the air.

Caught off guard, you glance down at your arms, now exposed for all to see. Shame washes over you, accompanied by a deep sense of vulnerability. The laughter echoes in your ears, a cruel reminder of the pain you carry on a daily basis.

The song concludes, and as you go to step back, picking up your guitar, tears well up in your eyes. The weight of their laughter presses heavily on your heart, and without a second thought, you bolt offstage, seeking solace in the privacy of the dressing room.

You stumble through the corridors, your vision blurred by tears. Jeff, who was standing on the side stage, attempted to touch your arm and see if he could do anything but you bolted straight past him, too upset to even attempt to speak.

Finally, you reach the dressing room, the door becoming a barrier between you and the outside world. You lock it behind you, the sound of the latch giving you a brief sense of security.

Collapsing onto a chaise lounge, sobs wrack your body as you struggle to catch your breath. The pain of their laughter reverberates through you, and the scars that you've worked so hard to embrace now feel like glaring flaws. In this moment of despair, you feel utterly alone.

Through your tear-stained face, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The scars etched on your arms serve as a painful reminder of the journey you've travelled—a journey that has tested your resilience and strength. But at this moment, they seem to mock you, amplifying your vulnerability.

You don’t know how long you were sitting there.

But the panic that has gripped your chest refuses to subside, and the air feels thin, suffocating.

Amidst your distress, you hear Harry's desperate pleas from the other side of the door, his voice filled with concern and love.

"Please, love," he implores, his voice cracking. "Let me in. I need to be with you. I can't bear to see you like this."

You find it difficult to think, your mind clouded by fear and self-doubt. Harry's words echo in your ears, but a part of you hesitates, questioning whether you should expose him to your vulnerable state.

Yet, Harry persists, his voice growing more desperate with each passing moment.

"Please, just open the door," he pleads again. "I'll do anything to make this better. Just let me in."

As the minutes stretch on, your panic intensifies. The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and you begin to scratch at your arms, hoping to erase the scars that have become a constant reminder of your pain. The act is born out of frustration, a desperate attempt to regain control over your emotions.

But the more you scratch, the more the scars stand out against your skin, marking the battles you've fought and the strength you've shown. The pain intensifies, both physical and emotional, and your nails dig deeper into your flesh.

Finally, Harry's voice breaks through the chaos in your mind.

"Love, please," he pleads once more. "I can't stand being separated from you like this. Please, open the door."

His words penetrate your fog of panic, stirring a flicker of clarity within you. You realise that shutting him out would only deepen the isolation you feel. With trembling hands, you reach for the lock, slowly turning it until the latch clicks, allowing Harry to step into the room.

Harry rushes toward you, his eyes wide with worry, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. Your breath hitches as he embraces you, his warmth and steady heartbeat serving as an anchor amidst the storm raging inside you.

But as the panic continues to surge, your scratching becomes more frantic, fueled by the desperation to rid yourself of the scars. Harry's eyes widen as he notices your self-destructive actions, his heart aching at the sight.

"Stop, love," Harry pleads, his voice filled with a mix of concern and determination. He gently grasps your hands, restraining them from causing further harm. "Please, you don't need to do this. Your scars don't define you. They are a testament to your strength and resilience."

Tears stream down your face as you struggle to find your voice amidst the overwhelming emotions.

"Harry," you manage to whisper, your voice trembling, "the fans... they laughed at me. I feel so exposed, so broken."

Harry's hold on you tightens, his voice filled with unwavering support. "Love, never forget what Elton John said in 'I'm Still Standing.' 'I'm still standing after all this time.' We've faced adversity together, and we've triumphed. We won't let their laughter dim your light."

His words wash over you, reminding you of the battles you've fought, the hurdles you've overcome. In that moment, you realise that their laughter, though painful, is a reflection of their ignorance, not your worth.

As Harry's arms enfold you, a newfound resolve begins to take hold. You slowly cease

Your frantic scratching, your nails no longer leaving trails of desperation on your skin. Instead, you allow Harry's touch to calm you, to remind you that you are not alone in this struggle.

As you gradually regain control of your breath, Harry's soothing voice fills the room once again. "You are beautiful, inside and out," he assures you. "Those scars are a part of your journey, a testament to the strength that resides within you. They are not something to be ashamed of."

With each word, the weight of the fans' laughter begins to lift, replaced by a growing sense of self-acceptance. You realise that their cruel taunts are not a reflection of your worth but a testament to their own insecurities and ignorance.

In that moment of revelation, you look into Harry's eyes, finding solace in his unwavering gaze. He pulls you closer, his embrace a shield against the world's judgments.

"You are loved," he whispers, his voice filled with conviction. "By me, by your fans, by all those who see the incredible person you are."

After the storm of emotions, Harry guides you to rest your head on his lap, finding comfort in his presence. He senses your need for warmth and reaches for a soft blanket that carries his familiar scent. As he carefully drapes it over your body, you feel an instant sense of security, as if his love and protection have enveloped you.

Harry pulls out his phone, his brow furrowed with concern. He dials Jeff's number, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of worry.

"Jeff, mate," he begins, "I need to talk to you. We can't continue with the show right now. (Y/N)s head is in a bad place, and she needs me here with her."

You hated letting the fans down as much as Harry did, but right now, you needed him, you needed him more than anything right now.

As he speaks, his free hand finds its way to your hair, his fingers gently running through the strands. The soothing motion sends waves of comfort through your body, easing the tension that had gripped your soul.

There's a brief pause as Jeff responds on the other end of the line. Harry's voice grows firmer as he continues, his protective instincts kicking in. "I know, Jeff, but she's my priority. We can't push her right now. She needs time and space to heal. I hope you understand."

You feel the weight of his determination, his unwavering commitment to your well-being. His words, spoken with conviction, serve as a reminder that you are not alone in this battle.

As the conversation with Jeff continues, your body begins to relax, the exhaustion of the emotional rollercoaster setting in. Harry's touch and his voice lull you into a state of tranquillity, your eyelids growing heavy.

You listen to Harry's voice, a mix of concern and reassurance, as he explains the situation to Jeff. The sound of his voice becomes a soothing melody, guiding you towards much-needed rest. The world outside the dressing room fades away, and in that moment, it's just you and Harry, wrapped in a cocoon of love and understanding.

With Harry's presence anchoring you,drifting you into a peaceful slumber, your mind dances on the edge of consciousness. Harry's comforting presence lingers, filling the room with a sense of love and security. In the hazy realm between wakefulness and dreams, you hear his soft voice whispering.

"I love you," Harry murmurs, his words like a gentle caress against your skin. His declaration of love resonates deep within your heart, a reminder that you are cherished and adored.

In the quiet of the room, Harry's fingers trace the scars on your forearm from when you hit the ground and the skin collided with the concrete of the floor, resulting in a skin graft on both arms, with delicate reverence.

His touch is tender, his love evident in every stroke. With each pass of his fingers, you feel a mixture of vulnerability and acceptance, knowing that he sees beyond the scars and embraces every part of you.

Touched by his gesture, you shift slightly, gazing up at him through half-closed eyes. The love shining in his eyes mirrors the love you hold in your heart.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and in a soft voice filled with gratitude, you whisper, "I love you too, Harry."

His lips curve into a gentle smile, and without hesitation, he leans down to press a loving kiss against the scars on your arms. The warmth of his lips against your skin sends a rush of emotions cascading through your veins—a blend of love, acceptance, and healing.

In that tender moment, you realise that Harry's love is not conditional. It extends far beyond the physical, embracing the entirety of who you are—scars and all. With his unwavering support, you find the strength to embrace your own journey, to let go of the pain inflicted by others' judgement.

As Harry's lips leave a trail of love and reassurance upon your scars, you feel a renewed sense of self-acceptance. You understand that love has the power to heal, to transcend the wounds of the past. With each kiss, Harry affirms that you are worthy of love and that your scars are a testament to your strength.

In the warmth of his embrace, you feel a newfound sense of peace settle within you. The doubts and insecurities that plagued your mind are replaced with a quiet confidence, knowing that you are loved unconditionally.

One thing was for sure though.

Just like the legend that is Elton John Said:

I’m Still Standing.

In fact you were standing better than you ever had, with the support of friends and family and the one man you don’t think you could ever stop loving.

You were starting to look like a true survivor, and not so much a little kid when you got overwhelmed looking at the scars on your arms from the impact of the accident.

“I’m Still Standing…” you whispered , voice slightly scratchy.

Harry smiled, letting out a small sniffle, “— yeah you are baby…yeah you are.”

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 31

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“I… I feel like I need to push,” you grunted out.

Your doctor ran to your bedside.  “Okay, dear, okay, follow my lead, alright?”  She assisted in turning you on your side, adjusting your various tubes to better accommodate your position.  “Like we discussed, okay?  This position will help reduce the pressure on your pelvis and make it much easier to push.”

You nodded, your expression contorting in a grimace as a much stronger contraction ran through you in waves, lingering in your muscles like radiation. Your hands were curled up by your head, lacking anything to hold on to, so you resorted to fisting the white cotton sheets covering the mattress below you.  It felt mildly uncomfortable, but as soon as you were settled, you felt like your muscles were able to work much more effectively.  You breathed out a pained sigh, the pressure in your lower abdomen increasing in waves.

“You’re starting to crown already,” another nurse spoke up.  “Your body is already so primed for delivery!  It’s like you’ve been practicing.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this was your third or fourth baby!”

“I’m going to hold your hand, alright?” your doctor asked, confirming with you on what would make you the most comfortable.  “How bad is your pain?  We can get you started on an epidural.”

“It’s…”  As soon as the contraction ceased, another one followed in its place.  You were outrageously close.  “It’s pretty bad,” you confirmed.

“I’m impressed, when I gave birth to my first, I almost passed out.  The pain was so bad!” one of the nurses at the other side of your room called out.  “You have quite the tolerance!”

You flashed a weak smile.  If only these nurses knew.

Your doctor rubbed your head reassuringly.  She really did feel like a mother in her own right.  “We’ll start that epidural.  Once that’s in place and you’re stable, we’ll begin pushing.  Can I get you anything?”

Your eyes wearily glanced up at her calm, reassuring face.  “I know it’s a long shot but… can you call my husband?”

—

The second lung was almost fully detached.  Over halfway through the surgery now, it had been much faster and more successful than anyone thought it would be.  Alongside a few breaks that were taken by the staff to relieve themselves and stretch their backs, sterile orange juice breaks sipped through plastic straws, and brief physical therapy for the unconscious patient to make sure his blood continued to circulate properly and his skin wasn’t damaged, the operation was going very, very smoothly.

And thank goodness.  Law needed some good news right now.

Among the beeping sounds of the patient’s heart monitor, the wrrr of the bypass machine, and the soft chatter amongst the team as they worked, a new sound infiltrated the space.  In the farthest corner of the room, Law’s hospital pager went off.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked.

“My pager,” Law responded.  His voice was laced with anxiety.  He was barely keeping it together, and who knows why his pager might have been going off in the middle of an operation.

The circulating nurse took it upon herself to snatch up the small device, pressing the response button.  The best, or arguably worst, thing about the pagers was how loud they were.  Everyone could hear the voice that came through the other end.

[Dr. Trafalgar Law?  Dr. Trafalgar?]  It was a woman’s voice.

“I’m listening,” he shouted back.  The nurse stepped slightly closer with the pager in her hand.

[This is Nurse Kaya from Labor & Delivery, your wife is crowning.  Just wanted to let you know.]

Spoken far too casually for the news that made Law’s stomach drop like a brick.  He was missing the birth.

“FUCK,” he suddenly shouted, his hands still carefully working at the lung’s connective tissue.  It was as if his body and his mind were on completely different wavelengths.  So much for operating room etiquette.  The air in the room had gone completely cold as nervous glances among the team were shared.

“Doctor, I’m not opposed to relieving you with another on-call surgeon.  I know this is a huge ordeal, but we’re almost done and… this is a special case,” one of the head nurses spoke up.

He was clearly deliberating heavily in his mind.  He wanted to run, carry himself as fast as his feet could handle, and get to your side.  He needed to be there with you.  He was missing the birth of his first child.  A lump developed in his throat.  The protective husband side of him had the stoic, focused surgeon side pinned against the wall with a knife to his throat.

“Get the on-call surgeon here immediately and have him gowned and sterilized,” he finally barked, passing his tools off to his assistant and stepping away from the body.  A few relieved gasps were shared amongst the team as the circulating nurse brought Law out from the theater and into the prep room where she assisted in frantically undressing him from his surgical scrubs and passing his phone and pager back into his possession.  His operating room attire was quickly disposed of in a biohazard waste bin while he quickly washed his hands in the nearby basin.

“Doctor, good luck,” she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling under her mask.

Law could only pass her a faint grin as he shrugged on his white coat, stuffed his phone in the pocket of his slacks, and sprinted out of the prep room.  On the way, the on-call surgeon passed by and planted a reassuring smack to Law’s shoulder before replacing him.

Law was breaking every hospital rule there was.  Sprinting through the hallway, his feet hammering against the tiled ground as he fought his way through the hospital’s expansive campus, past patient rooms, nurses’ stations, and waiting areas.  Why did L&D have to be so far away?!  His eyes followed the signs on the walls pointing him in the right direction, his muscle memory leading the way.  He scaled two flights of stairs two-at-a-time, the muscles in his legs screaming at him to stop.  He was almost positive he would tear a muscle with how fast he was running.  But that didn’t matter.

Finally, finally, he pushed through the doors into the maternity ward, flashing his badge frantically at the nurse behind the check-in desk.  He was panting, barely able to catch his breath, one of his hands shaking as it supported his weight against the desk.

“My… Trafalgar… where… shit…” he panted, beads of sweat pilling on his forehead below his ragged bangs.

“Down the hall, take a left, then a right,” the nurse instructed, her voice pleasantly calm.  She must have seen this a lot.

He barely uttered out a ‘thank you’ before he was off again, pounding down the tiled hallways past delivery and recovery rooms, past the expansive NICU and small groups of families and doctors.  He had tunnel vision.  He needed to get to you.

Take a left.

Then a right.

He almost sprinted past the door to the delivery room you were in, only backtracking when he caught the pained sound of your voice from within.  He flung the door open, nurses surrounding you jumping from shock at the sight.

“Dr. Trafalgar?!” one of them exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Law ignored her.

Your eyes went wide, your hand being held by the doctor who had admitted you.  Tears immediately brimmed in the corners of your vision as a pained smile broke out on your face.  Law took the spot of your doctor instantly, almost throwing himself at you as he littered your face with kisses, grasping your hand and holding in his pain as you squeezed harshly against his bones, the force of another contraction gripping your body.  You were laying on your side, one of your knees tucked upward toward your chest as far as you could manage to allow the baby more room to come out.  You had an epidural tube sticking out of your spine, your upper body barely covered by blankets and the open-back hospital gown to accommodate for the birth.

“You made it…” you wheezed, torn between the attention on your husband and the baby coming out of you.

“I couldn’t miss it… I couldn’t…” he wheezed.  He was still very winded, his lungs shuddering for breaths.  Any longer and he would’ve been the one needing a dual pulmonary transplant.

“Ready for another push?” shouted one of the nurses at your bedside above the noise.

You nodded, biting your lower lip.  Your face was glistening with sweat.  Your body tensed up, gripping Law’s hand like a lifeline as you pushed, a pained groan emanating from deep within your throat as your eyes pinched shut.

“How is she doing?” demanded Law, gazing at the doctor who took her spot at the end of your bed where your legs were parted.

“She’s doing great, both babies are in cephalic position, her blood pressure is good and her heart rate is even better, it’s unlikely she’ll need emergency intervention.  I’m incredibly pleased considering her medical history,” the older doctor explained.  “Come over here.”

Law gazed at you, a fond smile on your lips as you released his hand so he could join his extended colleague at the foot of your bed.

“Delivering on her side helps lessen the pressure on her body as well as the baby’s,” the woman explained.

Law’s breath caught in his throat.  Emerging from you was a head of fuzzy black hair, slicked with amniotic fluid.  One of the nurses called for another push, and your lower body tensed up, your muscles clenching as hard as they could while you pushed the baby out more.  Law quickly returned to your side, grasping your hand once more.

“Baby… how are you doing?” he asked, desperate for your personal opinion, his lungs finally settling as he took in your exhausted appearance.

You grimaced.  “The epidural has been helping, but it hurt like a bitch going in,” you groaned.  “I’ve been having contractions since 2 in the morning.  I just want them to be out already.”

“Once the head is delivered, the rest will be easy!” one of the nurses called, a bright smile on her face.

Law felt himself smile as well.  Being a delivery nurse must have been incredibly rewarding on the best days.  He glanced at the clock on the far wall.  It was almost 10 in the evening.  His heart panged in his chest.

“You’re doing amazing, baby, you’re amazing,” he whispered in your ear, planting another kiss against the soft, sweat-soaked skin of your forehead.

“One more push, dear!” the doctor called.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your muscles contracting with all your might at the count of the nurses assisting you, your hand clamping down on Law’s.  He held in his grimace of pain, supporting you as best he could.  Some slight hand bruises were nothing compared to what you were experiencing.  How chivalrous of him.

A sudden rushing feeling emanated from your body, a wet sensation prickling your skin through the numbness of the epidural.  Your heart rate picked up, your eyes growing wide as you worriedly asked, “What was that?!”

“Your water broke, dear!  Everything’s alright!” a nurse responded.

You moaned in pain.  “It’s about damn time.”  Your grip on Law’s hand released slightly, and you watched as a small smile appeared on his lips.

With one more push, the pressure in your groin finally dissipated somewhat as a nurse pulled your first baby out of you.  With the collapse of the amniotic sacs, it was much easier to deliver the rest of its body, much to your relief.  As soon as the contractions stopped, however, they began again.

“Keep going, darling, just one more to go!” the doctor called.  “It’s right there!”

You barely had the energy to pick your head up to look, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as Law examined the nurses huddled around your baby at the foot of your bed.  It was placed in a small portable incubator, being hooked up to machines to assess its condition.  35 weeks was still pretty early, so it made sense.  Its umbilical cord was clamped about two minutes after emerging from your womb.  Law tried to keep his anxiety repressed as your body shuddered with another contraction.

“The second baby is always easier, darling, you’re already fully dilated from the first,” explained your doctor, giving a reassuring pat to your ankle.

“First baby’s stable!” called one of the nurses.  “It’s a girl!”

Law felt his chest clench at the news.  His eyes lit up as he gazed at you, a smile pulling on his lips.  A weary smile formed on your own face as you were instructed to push once again.  Much to the room’s relief, the second baby did indeed come out much quicker than the first.  The loss of the amniotic fluid from your uterus and the stretching that your pelvis had endured with the first made it worlds easier for your second baby to emerge into the world.  The process repeated- a quick cleaning, a clamp after two minutes, and a quick check of vital signs.

“Another girl!” one of the nurses called, assessing the second in another small incubator.  “Also stable!”

You were helped onto your back in somewhat of a hurry, the two boxes containing your babies pushed toward your bedside where they were quickly gathered in bundles of blankets and placed on your chest.  It was all happening so fast, the world was practically blurring around you.  As soon as your babies touched your skin, it was as if a deep-rooted instinct emerged from you.  Law watched with pride as you nestled your newborns into your chest, your gentle hands holding their backs as they took in their first breaths as living humans.

Holy shit.

The room had quickly gone quiet around the four of you, a few of the nurses cleaning you up and reviewing your condition while additional nurses left the room to prepare suitable beds in the NICU for your newborns.  Even though they were both healthy and stable, they needed some extra time to grow.

“Law…?” you asked weakly, turning your head to look at your husband.

Law’s golden eyes were wide, frozen, large, salty tears streaming silently down his cheeks.  His chin was quivering as he gazed over you.  His three girls.

His girls.  He had two daughters.

Your husband huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a weary sob as he moved closer to you, stroking your head with his hand as he gazed warmly over the two tiny bodies on your chest, making their first contact with their mother.  He wiped his eyes clumsily with the sleeve of his white coat, inhaling a gross-sounding sniffle through his nose.

“I’m sorry I’m crying…” he blubbered.

“Don’t be…” you replied, your own tears welling in your eyes.  “You’re finally a daddy.  I’m happy you’re crying.”  You quietly laughed as Law reached forward with his hand, wiping your tears away from your cheeks, followed by another tender kiss against your jaw.

A nurse quickly stopped by your bedside, slipping small white cotton hats onto the tiny noggins of your daughters before leaving the four of you alone for a few more moments.  The skin-to-skin time was crucial for their attachment to you, and once that was established, they’d be able to go into the NICU for their extra care.

Both of the girls, despite being only around 35 weeks, had near-full heads of hair.  It made you wonder what they would have looked like being born at full-term.  The one over your left breast had tiny black curls that still stuck to her head.  The one over your right breast had thinner, straighter wisps of a lighter brown color.  They’d come into their own in a few more months as they grew, but even just from first looks, they were both clearly their father’s daughters.

—

The minutes following the birth were quite nasty if one were to ask you.  Law thought they were an interesting few moments, but you weren’t listening to him.  He was biased.  And frankly, you hated the way it felt when two placentas ejected themselves from your body.  It was like having another two babies but slimier and worse.

Your epidural was removed and you were cleaned up and helped into a cotton gown to rest in.  Your legs were weak from your long labor, but you were rewarded with some light food that didn’t taste like hospital sludge.  The third best piece of news you received was that, by some miracle, you didn’t tear a bit, and your uterus had completely and successfully done its job.

Finally.

You passed out very soon after your placentas were delivered, exhausted and completely spent after delivering two babies.

Law took the opportunity to retreat to the NICU and oversee his daughters as they were hooked up to breathing tubes and heart monitors to ensure that their good conditions remained that way.  They had their hand prints and foot prints taken by gentle nurses who were cooing over how cute they were, a sight that brought a smile to Law’s eyes.

“Dr. Trafalgar,” the voice of the doctor who oversaw your delivery shook him from his blissful state.  “Congratulations.”

“Dr. Linlin,” he replied as he turned to face her, shaking her hand.  “It’s good to see you.  Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, dear,” she hummed.  “I’m a veteran of the motherhood game.  It’s all in a day’s work for me.  I’m so glad to see you happy and healthy, and with a wife even.  I remember the first day I met you, that skinny, scared looking post-grad doctor forced to speak in front of a huge crowd.”

Law groaned, rolling his eyes as the memory.  “One of the worst days of my life, for sure.”

The woman laughed, a hearty, bouncy chuckle.  She hadn’t changed a bit in the 20-some-odd years, probably even longer, that she had been a doctor.  “But look at you now.  A huge, monumental surgery, and now twins.  All in one day.”

“I’m going to sleep for centuries after all of this settles,” he added with a small smirk.  “After helping my wife, obviously.”

Dr. Linlin gave Law a hearty smack on his back, right in between his shoulders, making him lurch forward slightly.  “Your daughters will stay in the NICU for 24 hours for observation, and then they’ll be transferred to stay with the two of you in postpartum.  Let me know if you need anything, alright?  In a few hours, I’ll be back in your room to help you two sign the birth certificates.”

Law watched as the woman walked down the hall, her own bright pink doctor’s coat trailing behind her.  One of the only things Law knew about Linlin was the amount of kids she had.  It seemed like she popped out one every year, and yet she still had the time to be a labor and delivery doctor.  He shook his head, trying to ignore the logistics of it, before walking back to the postpartum room you had been transferred to.

You were awake and staring at the ceiling above you, your hands clasped around your belly.  You were still quite swollen, having been told that it would take a bit for your stomach to return to its pre-pregnant state, but you were already trying to come to terms with the fact that you would most likely never look exactly the same ever again.  Not after carrying and shoving out two humans.  When Law entered your quiet room, you smiled, all your anxieties melting away at the sight of your husband.

He wasted no time in crossing the space between you, leaning over you to plant a loving kiss against your lips.  All the emotions he had been holding in throughout the day, all the tension that arose during his mad dash through the hospital, and all the worries that the two of you had shared during your pregnancy struggles flooded between your exchange.  One of your hands traveled up to caress his cheek, your fingers trailing across his sideburns and into his slightly greasy black hair, pulling him ever closer to you.

“I’m happy you didn’t tear, or need anything else, really,” he whispered, pulling away from you.  “After everything you went through, you needed an easy birth.”

You grinned.  “I like to think our two other babies, somewhere out there in the universe, wanted it to be easy for us.  For once.”

Law pulled up a chair and sat beside you, leaning against your bed and dropping his head onto your shoulder.  You gently caressed your fingers through his hair in the way you knew he loved, watching with a fond smile as his eyes closed.

“What did they say about the NICU?” you asked, your voice tired and weary.

“24 hours.  Then they’ll be transferred here to stay with us.”  Law kissed your hand cheek.  “They’ll be eligible for discharge after they’re able to eat, stay warm, and breathe efficiently.”

“Speaking of which,” you stated, slowly moving yourself to sit up despite the aches in your bones.  “I pumped for the first time when you were looking at them.”

“How quick were you?” he asked with a joking tone.  “I didn’t think I was gone for that long.”

“It didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but I also didn’t need to give that much milk.  One of the nurses helped me, and they’ll be able to feed them in the NICU.  At some point in another hour or so, though, she told me I’ll have to visit them there so we can make sure they can latch on their own.”  One of your hands traveled up to painfully grab at one of your breasts.  “I’m already feeling so achy in my chest.  It’s gonna be a rough few months.”

Law grinned, dipping his head back down.  “But you’ll have help.  Don’t forget that.”

You hummed in response.  “You’re right.”

After a few extra moments of silence, you added.  “Names?”

“Hm?”

You chuckled.  “Names.  We have to name our girls.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Law muttered.  He had completely forgotten one of the most important parts of being a new parent.  “What were you thinking?”

“Cora and Rose,” you said, matter-of-factly.  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.  And now we know they’re both girls.”

Law smiled, a rare, genuine expression that reached his eyes.  A smile he only ever showed you.  “Cora and Rose… which one is which?”

“Rose is the one with those little black curls.  Cora is the one with the lighter hair,” you confirmed.

Another tender kiss was planted on your forehead.  “I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.”

—

You didn’t expect breastfeeding to be as euphoric as it was.  In less of an immense pleasure way, and more of a ‘holy crap, it feels like my breasts are losing 25 pounds’ kind of way.

Your girls were already so good.  Cora latched instantly, one of her tiny, weak hands curling slightly upward to grasp at your skin.  Both of them were still curled in a fetal position, and it would take them a bit longer to finally stretch out and look more like usual babies, but right now, they were the perfect size to swaddle and nestle into your skin.

The neonatal intensive care unit was a surprisingly colorful place.  You always imagined it would be rife with anxiety, desperation, and sadness, a bunch of little, sick babies fighting for their lives, but the second you and Law finally entered to see your daughters, all those expectations flew out the window.  Their corner was bright and colorful, with rainbows painting the walls and a fairly large window with a view of the surrounding city below.  It was pitch black out, just past midnight, but you imagined the daylight would flood the room with a warm, natural light.

Your daughters were already so warm, kept insulated by their little cotton swaddles they were bundled in, and their tiny beanie hats that covered their fragile heads.  The sight warmed your heart.

A breastfeeding specialist (which was a job you had no idea existed until then), helped situate you in a chair, accommodating your sore and spent body.  She assisted with adequately positioning your daughters, one for each nipple, and gave you tips on how to make sure they latch and stay on while nursing from you.

You had an additional blood test a few hours after the birth, when your girls were done with their first natural feed and were now sleeping calmly in their incubators.  It was looking like you’d be able to go home within the next 24 hours, if everything continued as normal.

While you were taking a light nap in the chair beside your daughters’ beds, Law used your phone to snap some pictures of Cora and Rose in their tiny beds side by side, smiling as he pulled up your text messages and sent them off to Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku.  He didn’t think they’d respond, with it being so late, but their messages rolled in almost instantly, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Ika-chan OMGOGMOGMGOMGOMGOGMOGMGOGMOMG

Ika-chan TWO LITTLE GIRLS

Ika-chan ARE THEY HEALTHY????????

Ika-chan ARE *YOU* HEALTHY?????????????

Shachiiii Still cant believe those things came out of you whatthefuck

Shachiiii Must have hurt like a mf

PenPen Shachi’s next to me sobbing his eyes out

PenPen I’m crying too.  But I’m stronger than him

PenPen Fuck no im not.  Im soaked over here.  

It was then that his pager beeped.  He forgot he still had it on him.  Technically, he was still on the clock.  He gently placed your phone on the small table beside you to not wake you up before reaching into his coat pocket and procuring his pager, stepping out into the hallway to not disturb his three sleeping beauties.

“This is Dr. Trafalgar,” he said into the small device.

Some slight static came through the speaker.  [Hey, this is Operation Triple Organ Replacement calling in from the OR!  How’s our best doctor doing?]

Law couldn’t fight the smile that formed on his lips.  “Before I answer, how was the rest of the procedure?”

Some small chuckles and a few mildly annoyed groans were heard.  [Patient did absolutely amazing.  He’s in recovery, stable, and is slowly being woken from anesthesia.  They’ll be able to take his intubation tube out in a few more hours, but that’s out of our hands.  Soooo…?]

Law felt relief fill his lungs.  A successful operation was everything he was hoping for, and now he felt he could finally rest easy.  “I have two daughters, Cora and Rose.  Everyone is happy, healthy, and resting.”

He needed to pull the pager away from his face as a cacophony of garbled cheering was heard.  A distorted [FUCK YEAH] echoed through the speaker.

“Are you guys still in the pre-op room?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

[Yeah, we’re all cleaned up and everything, but we were waiting for the right time to page you.  We’re abusing hospital equipment, we know, but this is CRUCIAL.]

Law couldn’t blame his team in the slightest.  It was past midnight on May 13th, and they had just completed the biggest surgical procedure of their lives, probably the most daunting surgery their hospital would ever see.  They deserved to rest and relax, and yet here they were, still in the pre-op theater, celebrating their lead doctor.  

The black-haired surgeon smiled, pressing down on the transmission button with his thumb.  “You guys go clean up, alright?  Treat yourselves.  Everyone did absolutely amazing today.”

[Copy that, Doctor.  Tell your wife we said congrats!]

Law slipped the pager back into his pocket before reentering the NICU room.  His stern, golden eyes softened instantly upon seeing you awake, leaning over the side of Rose’s bed and idly trailing your thumb softly over her chubby cheek.  Beside Rose, Cora’s arms were already outstretched far enough that she was almost encroaching on her sister’s space.  Soon enough, the small oxygen tubes taped to their fresh faces would be gently removed, and they’d be able to go home and sleep in their cribs, in your apartment.  Law leaned over you and kissed the crown of your head, rubbing his inked hand between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, baby?” he whispered, gazing down at you.

You leaned into his side, melting at his touch.  “Yeah?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

[withacapitalp]

“Okay, so now we add the water, right?”

“No! No water!” Steve practically shouted, grabbing the pot and holding it high above his head so Joyce couldn’t reach it, “Joyce, we’ve talked about this,”

She rolled her eyes, putting the measuring cup on the counter and sighing. Robin and the kids giggled from their spot in the living room, the parade turned down low so they could hear every bit of the clownery going on in the kitchen. Steve turned the evil eye on them and put one hand on his hip. 

“And, peanut gallery, if you want to have food, you’ll want to keep your snark at bay. Unless you want to be the ones in here helping me make an entire Thanksgiving meal for fourteen.”

“Always the mom,” Max sighed, patting her stomach, “I’ll have you know if we’re not eating by five o’clock sharp, Nugget here will be making Lucas drive us to McDonalds,” 

Steve waved her off and turned back to the stove, placing down the pot and stirring his perfectly prepared potatoes. It felt kind of weird to keep thinking of them as kids now that they were all graduating from college. But, to Steve, they would always be kids. No matter how tall, how old, how many nuggets of their own they had, those seven little kids would always be the stupid pre-teens that had given him his life. 

“Now, it’s important to remember to continue to whisk, or else they’ll get clumpy.” Steve instructed in a no nonsense tone. He had eaten enough of her radioactive cooking to know where she would start to lose sight of the final product. 

“Are you torturing my wife?” Hopper asked as he entered into the fray, grabbing another round of beers for him and the boys. Steve could just catch the sound of Jonathan and Wayne yelling at the TV in the bedroom upstairs, calling the referee out on some bullshit play. 

“This is the real question, Hop. Is your wife torturing my husband?” A voice came from behind him, soft and buttery. A voice Steve had desperately missed, even though this trip had only been a short few weeks.

Steve hummed, leaning back into Eddie’s arms and letting his eyes slip shut for a second. Eddie had only been in Chicago for three weeks to re-record something for his newest album, but to Steve it was always too long.  Warm pale arms littered with scars came up around him, fingers playing with the silver chain around his neck. No government would ever recognize it, they couldn’t really tell the world, but the ring on that chain was everything to Steve, just like the man who had given it to him. 

“She is,” Steve fake-whispered into Eddie’s ear, “She’s trying to poison us all with liquid potatoes,”

“Lucky for us, we have you,” Eddie whispered back, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek from behind, “God bless you, Mr. Potato Man.”

Steve snickered, turning around so he could fully face his partner. Eddie’s hair was shorter now than it was when they were young and stupid, and he was starting to get crows feet in the corner of his eyes.

He was more beautiful every time Steve saw him. 

“Quick! Eddie distract him while I put water in the potatoes!” Joyce cried. Eddie immediately went along with it, yanking Steve away from the stove and ignoring his protests as she began to experiment. Steve conceded defeat the second the paprika was pulled out of the cupboard. Some things would just never change. 

Eddie dragged him into the hallway, hiding them ever so slightly from the rest. 

“Glad to be home,” He murmured, hugging Steve close and resting their foreheads together. 

Home. The home Eddie had bought him all those years ago. The carpet in the living room was a soft cream now instead of gaudy orange, and there were boxes filled with mums in each window. The mold problem had been fully eradicated, but the screen door still swung open and shut in the wind. 

Steve didn’t mind it anymore.  It was just a part of the charm of their house. 

Their house. Even now it made his heart fill to the bursting to think of it. Their house.  

But now that Eddie was back, it was really home. 

[spicybunni]

YANDERE WATER NYMPHS SCENARIO

Hello darlings! I felt inspired from some art lately and decided to write it! Darling gets surrounded by a group of water nymphs💙 (here’s some art I did to visualize the story)

WARNINGS⚠️: Yandere tendencies, group teasing, groping, fem!darling/reader, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

💙It felt like there was no end to this forest. Only you could just keep walking.

💙The village you stayed at warned you about this place. The forest of haunting creatures and strange events happening. The journey through was taking longer than you expected. They estimated it was a day and a half travel to get through by following the path.

💙Since nobody ventures through the forest that often, the path in question slowly vanished after going a few miles in. You just kept trodding, wanting to get through.

💙Why did you insist on going through the forest? Because on the map it said it would only take two days to get to the great city. Any other way it would have taken four days. But you certainly were paying a price for it.

💙You were traveling all day long, parched for some fresh water to jump into. The blazing Sun was making you sweat through your clothes and warming your face, cheeks reddening.

💙After your tenth break in the shade under some trees you heard the nearby sound of a running creek.

💙‘Thank the heavens!’ You thought, getting on your feet again with newfound determination. If the creek was steady enough you could easily setup camp and plan a new way to get out of this cursed forest.

💙You were about to walk up a small hill that overlooks the creek down below. You heard a few giggles, making you stop all movements. Ducking down beneath the view of the hill, you slowly raise your head to see who is down below.

💙The view almost made you gasp in surprise. It was four half naked women basking in the cool water, gossiping and lightly splashing each other.

💙However, despite their normal appearance, you noticed that their hair colors and parts of their skin were strange. It looked as though the water was a part of them. ‘How strange..’

💙Respecting their privacy and also adhering the warnings the kind village people told you about, you decided you could travel more down the creek to set up camp.

💙But of course, the gods had no such plan for you.

💙Right as you were about lower your head to go down the dirt hill, you somehow made a few dirt clusters tumble down the hill. You seized up immediately hearing them go down but also because all the giggles and chatter stopped.

💙You glance back down to them all looking directly at you. Their eyes were darkened, making you still in movement.

💙In a moment of anxiety you stood up fully on the hill so they could see you meant no harm.

💙“G-Good evening! I’m just passing thro- OH F-“ Was all you were able to say before losing balance and taking a tumble down to them.

💙Before you could hit the dirt or rocks a wave enveloped you to cushion the fall. Then the water formed into one of the ladies holding onto your form. Her eyes glowed turquoise and her cheeks were blushed pink. Her arms held you steady against her. Her hair was dripping water onto your face, making you tremble by her beauty and strength.

💙Suddenly she turns her head to her group, cheerfully announcing “A maiden has tumbled to us ladies…What ever shall we do?…” then you hear those same giggles from the rest of them coming closer to inspect you.

💙 You suddenly realized…these were no ordinary women, these were nymphs!! How did you not see it sooner?!

💙Nervously laughing at your realization you try to back away from the one holding you. She puts no force to hold you but she prolongs her hand holding yours as you back away.

💙“Listen, I -Thank you, yes. Thank you for saving me there but I- I need to get going. I’m supposed to reach the nearby city by tomorrow so Uhm-“

💙They all exchanged glances to one another before laughing at your statement. It was like you were being made fun of but you didn’t know why.

“What neighboring village sweet girl?”

“Yes tell us all about it~”

“There is no neighboring village Maiden, you are in the center of our forest…”

“Why not stay with us fair Maiden? You never know what creeps in the night here..”

💙They came closer to you, making you back against a rock. The depth of the creek was deeper than you expected, coming up to your waist.

💙They surrounded you, their bright teeth smiling down at your blushing face. Their hands reached for your limbs. Grabbing, caressing, stroking, and rubbing your arms and legs. Whispering sweet compliments into your skin and trying to coax you to come deeper into the water with them.

💙Your face was as red as a pomegranate. Their constant fondling was making you beyond flustered. Desire was building in the pit of your stomach. The way they ran their hands through your hair, the way they gently rubbed your legs, and light graze of their finger nails on your back and forearms. You were simply putty in their hands.

💙They were talking about you as you slowly drifted into a blissed out nap.

“Look at her, oh maidens these days get cuter and cuter.”

You feel a hand stroke the side of your face.

“Her body is divine but her face is truly remarkable. One could almost bite her cheeks they’re so red!”

“Now, now. We mustn’t eat nor harm this maiden. I’d say she’s a gift from the gods! Nobody makes it out this far anymore, so let’s take care of this one…Right ladies?”

That’s all you could hear of their conversation before you completely knocked out. Going limp in their arms.

💙Even if you could resist, they would never let you leave, oh no. You are too much fun.

[ghostybaby000]

He found you. Again. | Part 3

part 1 part 2

Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: I suggest going back to part one to really understand this plot! There’s a link above

Warnings: 18+,blood, violence, stabbing, guns, stalker, symptoms of panic

Word count: 1.5k

(Not fully edited, apologies for any incorrect information!)

Although it sounded foolish you had flashbacks to watching your investigative shows. The shows where situations like this happened in almost every episode, and thats what it should be- just an episode on the T.V. not something that you should be enduring why, why did this have to happe-

‘Are you listening to me Y/N? I came this far for you, don’t you see!’ He had stopped pacing, he was now staring you down, when he finally took a second to see what you held. 

He let out a small laugh, and then his expression turned to stone.

‘Why do you have that Y/N, you don’t need that-you wouldn’t hurt me. The lamp, I can forgive because maybe you didn’t know it was me but, now you do, you can see it’s me and I…’

His voice trailed off, and all you saw was his anger boiling over when he reached to his side leading his hand to rest on a gun.

‘Drop the wrench Y/N. Drop it NOW and I won’t have to hurt you, I would never want to hurt you y-you just need to see that- so go on and drop the wrench….’

He unholsters the gun, shaking and holding it in his hand to his side. He has tears welting up in his eyes and you decide to try and coarse him, as the panic surges inside you and you aren’t quite sure that you can even move. You think back on the shows where you are meant to play into their mind games, and not fight it as it usually didn’t end well. You slowly lower yourself to the floor, forcing your fingers to each let go of your only weapon as you exercise your acting skills.

‘You’re right. You wouldn’t hurt me, never…Y-You’ve looked out for me for so long an-

‘Don’t be sarcastic with me. It isn’t funny and it doesn’t work-‘ The gun now knocking on his bouncing leg, you can see his white knuckles gripping it tighter now as he stands there waiting for your response shifting his weight.

‘I’m not being sarcastic, I’ve known you for so long and you were there that night at my house-‘ You start to take a small step towards him, when he backs away.

‘Don’t play games with me Y/N- I-I’m not in the mood for you to be messing with me- I’ve finally gotten you here all to myself I don’t want to lose it.’ He’s moving the gun between his hands when he moves towards you, making you step back.

‘You really are afraid…you-you don’t see it…you don’t get why I was at your house’ He begins to be refilled again with anger and he’s speaking so loud now he’s spitting at you.

‘You don’t see the struggles I’ve gone through to get to you, you don’t know the years I spent in training and trying to find you. I just wanted to be with you again why WHY don’t you see that!?’ He stops for a moment now only about a foot away from you, you can smell him- a smell that reeks of sweat and desperation. He moves closer to you, staring into your eyes you look away towards anywhere but him furrowing your brows in fear, wrong move. The cold metal of the gun now pushing your head back up to meet his gaze.

‘I want to have you with me, whenever and wherever.’ He was now staring through your sole, and that’s when you saw him. 

In your peripheral vision you saw Ghost, his mask making his identity obvious, a wave of relief waiting now to wash over you. He was inside the door and making his away behind the kitchen, moving the small table out of the way. The same table you now realize would have been in your way had you tried to run for the door. You couldn’t bear to look, knowing that he would probably spin to see what you were looking at and it would only become worse.  Ghost disappeared into another portion of the room behind a wall that couldn’t be seen so you made your move.

You tore from his gaze with the gun to your head, looking at where the front door was. He leans in closer to you, the gun still a dangerous distance from your head as he speaks. 

‘That means, Y/N- that you aren’t leaving. You can’t, it’s so SO simple how do you not understand this, me, why I’m here now for YOU.’ He grabs you by the throat with his free hand just strong enough so that you could tell he was deciding whether to strangle you or not, until you just about pass out. He forces you upright, moving your face to look at him him as he slightly loosened his grip.

‘Do you understand?’ You nodded your head as vigorously as you can while still being held tightly, tears welting in your eyes. Your hands were wrapped around his now, trying to prevent it from further strangling your neck.

‘Say it, say you understand me.’ His stare piercing through you now.

‘Yes, yes I understand you’ You manage to squeak out, hoping that he doesn’t hurt you and will let you go if you play along.

‘Good.’  His grip loosens as you let out a few coughs to clear your throat. He hesitates before letting you entirely go, and decides to hold your upper arm so you couldn’t flee.

‘Now let’s get to bed- I didn’t want to come this late into the night, but it was the only way I could be sure you were alone. It’s late and you have work tomorrow…go- move…’

 You were almost sick then knowing that he had so much information about you, when you had been so careful. You hadn’t seen any sight of Ghost, and thought for a moment that it may have been your imagination trying to tell you that you were saved, still stuck in fight or flight mode you couldn’t muster the urge to speak, and instead mumbled a small ‘Mmhmm’

He walked behind you, not letting go of your arm and leading you to your room, the gun still in his other hand. You try to think about what you can do to get away, maybe once he’s asleep you’ll be able to leave. Maybe you can try to seduce him and then knee him and flee, maybe you had a good enough weapon in the room but when would you find time to get it? 

He’s made the way to the door now closed, that leads to your bedroom. He didn’t notice that it wasn’t closed before and decides to reach past you to open it. Your room was already dark, having not turned on any lights you notice the rampage that had torn your room apart. Standing in the door frame you saw the closet was a mess and there were things all over the floor. You crept towards the bed, just getting out of his arms when it all happens. It feels like milliseconds to you, but in real time it lasted a few minutes. 

Within a second the attacker had been outmatched. Ghost made his way directly behind him, and was pulling him backwards and down to the floor in a headlock. He had been in many hand-to-hand combats with men his own size or larger and given he usually had a gun, he had to make it more personal this time. The gun shot out making you shriek out and scurry towards the closet, your hearing ringing due to being in such a confined space. The attacker now choking and stammering backwards the gun cast aside to free his other hand, clawing at Ghosts arms to be let go of. There was a struggle you heard as boots stomped in the hall and hands were hitting the walls, groans and other noises flooded your still sensitive and ringing ears.

You could tell it wasn’t an easy fight, not that any ever was between two stronger men of similar height, Ghost being slightly taller and you hoped stronger-you peered out in the hall with baited breath. To your satisfaction, Ghost was now on top of the attacker in the office space down the hall, pummeling him with his gloved hands relentlessly. You made a quick inhale and retreat around the corner you were peering from which was enough to distract him from his beatings and slowly back off the man. You backed away further into the bedroom, watching as Ghost paused to checked the man wasn’t moving and then walked towards you. 

You were relieved to have the one attacker off of you, but upon seeing his merciless beating you now also felt nervous to be in his wake. You reach the wall on the other side of your room as he makes his way through the door frame. You started to close your eyes not telling If you were afraid now of him, or of being on the verge of breaking down worse than ever. Within a few seconds he had made his way across the room, his boots giving his location away for being a few feet in front of you.

‘c’mon’ His low accented voice allowed you to exhale. 

[exquisiteserotonin]

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: After an altercation Ellie has at school, Joel visits you to have a talk

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ only (MDNI, PLEASE), angst, some violence, coarse language, brief talk of losing children and spouse (if this triggers you), Oral sex (Fem receiving), Squirting, PiV sex, Hurt-Comfort sex, Creampie, no use of y/n

A/N: Not-beta'd. I wrote this very, very quickly a few days ago when I was in some kind of incredibly weepy, hormonal mood or perhaps it was the full moon. Either way, that is why there is so much angst. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to share it today, but here we are. Real tears were shed during the writing of this fic. I'm a wife and a mom, hence why there is talk of reader once having a husband and children (Sorry, if that's not your thing or if you cannot relate). This generally follows canon except that Ellie and Joel are more fully integrated right away to the Jackson community.

Read on AO3

Take My Love, Take it Down

Screams, cries, and murmurs filled the freezing Wyoming air. A sharp pain took hold of your chest, creeping up your neck, and over your back as the sounds reached your ears. It sent you in a wave of memory and panic and was followed by the constant crunching of snow under a few shuffling feet. Clutching your chest, you took a few deep breaths as your charges came running towards you calling out your name. Well, your last name anyway. As their teacher, they didn’t get the privilege of knowing your first name. 

“She punched me!” One of your older students cried out as a few of his peers pushed him forward presenting him to you. 

You winced as you saw blood streaming down his nose, mixed with cold tears that were falling down his face. Other children watched with intrigue as you pulled a few tissues from your coat pocket, bringing them gingerly to his face, gesturing for him to hold pressure to his nose. 

“Who punched you, Carter?” You asked as holding gentle hands to his pale freckled face. 

He and several other students pointed in the same direction, fingers towards your new student, Ellie. You saw her standing a few yards away, her coat disheveled, the knees of her jeans scattered with dirt, and her face red from the cold, but also, mostly, from her anger. A sigh escaped you as you put your hands on your hips. Gently, you gestured for your other students to return to recess while asking your assisting teacher to bring Carter inside to clean up. 

“Ellie, could you come here please?” You requested, beckoning her over with what you hoped was a welcoming gesture.

“It wasn’t my fault, he started coming at me telling me what I should do and how I should be and I--,” her voice was fast and full of rage and pleading. 

“Ellie, stop,” you stated, a natural calm imbued in the tone of your voice, “let me see your hand.” 

The last words that fell from your lips must have been the perfect disarmament, since her response was to hold her hand out to you immediately. You pulled another tissue from your pocket and began to wipe away remnants of blood on her knuckles. Upon closer examination, any injuries she may have sustained were minor especially compared to what she had inflicted on Carter. 

“Carter can be a little much, can’t he?” you added, keeping your gaze on her. “I’m sure whatever he said or did, you've every right to feel the way you did.”

Her eyes lit up in relief at your words. It was a familiar look that you had seen before from your students. The look that lit up when they thought they were about to get away with something. You stilled yourself, holding back emotions that began to well up within you. It was a familiar look you had seen from your own children. 

“But just because someone wronged you doesn’t mean that your automatic reaction should be to hit them.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ellie shouted at you. “This place sucks, with all your peace, love, and harmony shit.”

“Ok, you know what? You need to go inside, Ellie,” you stated, somehow retaining your calm. “In fact, everyone we all need to go inside; recess is over, time to get back to work.”

You waved for your students to line up, while pointing at a space directly in front of you with the expectation that Ellie would take the lead. Begrudgingly, she did, the remainder of the students falling in line behind her. 

As you trudged through the snow back to the school house, you turned to Ellie, “I think I’ll have to talk to Tommy or Maria about this.”

“Why?!” She snapped and then added, “Just because they got me in here doesn’t mean they’re family.”

“Well then, I guess I have to talk to Tommy’s brother,” you countered, “Joel, right?”

“Go ahead and do it then,” she retorted, “but he’s not my dad either.” 

You shrugged but nodded, listening carefully to her words. You never mentioned anything about him being her dad. You just knew that they’d shown up at the gate and were now the newest residents of your quiet community. 

Your one-room classroom buzzed with the chaotically happy energy so often found in a classroom. Thankfully, the rest of the day went without incident. Having students from a very young age to teenagers was not something you were used to. It brought a different kind of chaotic energy that was, at the very least, interesting to observe. The mix of pretend play from your youngest students and the giggling gossip from your oldest students represented life in a world that felt like nothing but death. That’s what everyone told you, anyway.

They didn’t even need to tell you, really. You saw it in their eyes; the way that children and their parents greeted you on the street with their eyes crinkled at the corners with joy and gratitude. It should have made you happy. It made you happy in your life before this. Sometimes you wondered to yourself why you were teaching again. No, most of the time you wondered why you were teaching. 

You replayed the memory of how it happened as you walked home. 

First Maria asked you. 

“No, I don’t think so.”  

Then Tommy asked you.

“No, I really don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”

Then Maria and Tommy asked you. 

The exhaustion that overcame you from their consistent requests eroded what little resistance you had. Their arguments and evidence were hard to defend against especially since you’d been a teacher and that the children in the community loved you. Out of some strange sense of obligation, you refrained from telling them that each day you were just going through the motions. You were like a robot completing an assigned task. Because doing, thinking, or feeling anything else was just too painful. 

You reached your home, a cozy little cottage that was more than enough for you. As you closed the door behind, you felt a tight pain in your chest similar to what you felt this morning. You strangely thought of Ellie, then thought of your boys, then your husband. It rose to your throat and it was suddenly hard to breathe. You rushed to the kitchen, filling a glass with much needed water. 

A loud knock on your door had you startled. Grabbing a pistol from a kitchen drawer you made your way to the door. The knock came again. 

Looking through the peephole allowed you some relief when you saw a familiar, rugged-faced man, with salt and pepper hair standing at your door. It was Joel Miller, Tommy’s older brother and Ellie’s apparent caretaker. You opened the door, pistol still in your hand. 

“Hello, I don’t think you’ll be needin’ that,” he gestured towards your gun, “though I won’t hold it against you if keep it nearby.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry” you nodded, “force of habit—please come in.”

You gestured for him to have a seat at a small round dining room table. You placed your gun away in a nearby drawer, observing Joel as he looked around your house. You winced as his eyes settled on a photo of you, your husband, and two children. Reluctantly, after his brief overview of your home, he moved towards your dining room table. 

“You’re probably wonderin’ why I’m here,” he said, taking a seat and spreading his legs in a way that you could only describe as hyper-masculine. 

You clenched your teeth beneath tightened lips as it spurred inexplicable feelings discomfort and disgust. They prodded at you simply because you had noticed. 

“Surprised, yes,” you said, trying to hide the trembling in your voice,“but I think I know why.”

“Ellie gave that boy a bloody nose.”

There was something in his voice, in that Texas drawl that sounded almost like…pride. 

“Yes, I know, I was there,” you acknowledged in exasperation, “I’m sure she had her reasons but I don’t think it warranted violence, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel,” he corrected, “I agree, but you have to understand where she’s comin’ from, ma’am.”

“Alright, Joel, can I get you some water?” you offered. “Please don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old.” 

You gave him your first name along with a glass of water. 

“Ellie’s been through a lot,” his voice was hushed and gravel-like as he gave his excuse, “you can’t hold it against her for tryin’ to stand up for herself.” 

“Joel,” you said calmly, tapping into the part of your brain where you held the voice you used when talking to parents at conferences, “we’ve all been through a lot here, doesn’t give us the right to start punching people in the face.” 

“You don’t know how good you’ve got it, though,” he continued, incredulously, “sittin’ pretty in your perfect little town, with your perfect little job, in your perfect little house---you don’t really know what’s out there right now.” 

“What?” 

Your hands began to tremble at the words, traveling up your arms, to your neck. It was as though someone lit a burner inside you and your blood was the fuel. Red and hot, like living lava from the volcano of you, it threatened to erupt. 

“You haven’t seen the things that I’ve seen,” he grumbled, standing up to pace around your home, his right hand trembling, “or done the things I’ve done.”

“What do you want a medal ‘cuz you’ve smuggled shit and killed some people in the process?” you scoffed and advanced on him. “You know, you roll up in here, saying you’re here for family and you come in to my house, Ellie’s teacher’s house, making excuses for her to bash another child’s face in and you expect me to give you sympathy because you’ve got people’s blood on your hands that you chose to spill?”

“I did what I had to survive,” his voice grew in volume as you stepped closer to him, “and I’m teaching Ellie to do the same.” 

“And I am doing exactly the same thing,” you growled at him. 

The way his left eye twitched and the way he moved his jaw told you that he wasn’t expecting that answer. Beyond your control, you felt tears start to sting the corner of your eyes. A sudden feeling of helplessness and shame overcame you as felt the sudden urge to explain yourself to a man you had only known in passing for a few days. 

“I’m not stupid, Joel; Maria and Tommy are my friends, my good friends,” you spoke, not moving from where you stood. “I know what you lost and I know you know…”

The hatred you felt for yourself amplified as the tears fell freely from your eyes. Your view of Joel was blurry from your tears as you tried to find your words again. 

“I know you’re not stupid, I saw you looking at my photos, so you know what I’ve lost,” your lips trembled and stumbled at every word. “I have nightmares all the time and I see them--and how I had to l-leave my, my boys.” 

A broken shell of you was all that was left. Maybe Joel was right, maybe you were just a broken shell in a perfect town, with a perfect job, in a perfect house. All of it perfect from the outside, but none of it real. You drew your hands to your face trying to stop the tears from falling from your eyes as Joel stared back at you. You spotted a flinch here and there as he tried to gather the knowledge to comfort you. 

“I’m sorry, I--,” he said as he reached a tentative hand towards you, but you shook your head and finally took a step away from him. 

“This is how I’m trying to survive, Joel, to try to make things better, but I’m just---just  fucking it all up,” you said through tears. “Everyday, I’m doing this job that your brother begged me to do and everyday I wake up and it’s never real. And these kids, they’re depending on me and asking me to help them with the simplest things and I can’t; my chest hurts and I can’t breathe, and I fuck up, and I fail, and I lose everything.”

The tears were falling so freely now that you can’t even see Joel. All you heard is how loud the silence is, louder than the tears and labored breaths that are escaping from you. You tried to mumble something unintelligibly to Joel. An apology. An explanation. But you’re certain it just comes out in even messier sobs. The next sound that floats to your ears is the creaking of your floor beneath Joel’s booted footsteps as he moves towards you and unexpectedly grabs you by the arm to wrap you in the tightest embrace that you’ve felt in the longest time. 

Tears stained his leather jacket and shirt as you cry into his chest. He spoke nothing. His comfort came in the rise and fall of his chest as he breaths, in the way that he somehow manages to understand to caress the back of your head and your hair, and in the way that his hands rub your shoulders as he squeezes you tighter as if doing so might somehow expel some of your pain. And somehow it did, if only just a little bit. It was enough to allow you to wrap your arms around his waist in return. Your hands explored his back, rubbing up and down to give him back some of the comfort he had given you. 

Everything is still dark behind your closed eyes that are still buried in his shirt. With one quivering exhale, you managed to look up to find him looking back at you. His eyes that were tight with stoicism and anger when he stepped through the threshold of your door had changed. Round, soft, deep brown, and glossy with the onset of tears. You knew them like an old friend because they were just like yours, because they’d seen the same horror and felt the same pain. You took your hands from his waist and cautiously brought them towards his face, learning more with your eyes before he gave you the slightest nod as a form of permission. With your fingers, you gently caressed the wrinkles on his forehead tracing down to his temples until you wiped away the tears that had managed to escape from the corners of his eyes. You held your hands at his cheeks, keeping hold of his gaze with your own. He brought his hands to grip yours, rubbing his thumbs on your wrists before his fingers met your forearms with a touch that was beginning to awaken something inside you. 

“I reckon we’re more alike than we are different,” his words were a cathartic confession. 

You nodded, uncertainty still circling around you as you caressed his face and began to lace your fingers in his dusty-colored hair. It seemed to be all the permission he needed to dive forward to kiss you as he held your face gently in his hands. But you needed more, as quickly as he had moved in to kiss you, you began to peel his jacket off his broad shoulders, throwing it on a chair at your dinner table. A determined, almost dangerous stare filled his eyes as he discarded the flannel shirt beneath his jacket. You pulled off your sweater and blouse in one skillful move, tossing it without a worry as to where it landed. You were left standing before him only in your jeans and bra.  

An obvious hunger had taken over you both, as he lunged at you grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss less chaste than the last. Your lips held onto each other, tongues exploring and tasting each other through the remnants of salty tears. You hooked your hands into his belt loops, grabbing him by his ass to push his hips towards yours, feeling his cock beginning to twitch and harden with need. 

“Bedroom,” you commanded breathlessly. 

He nodded and then lifted you as you leveraged yourself against his chest and shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his waist while he kept his mouth on yours. He threw you on the bed, eliciting a quiet yelp as you bounced on the firm mattress. You shifted yourself further up the bed as he crawled towards you. Pushing yourself up to your knees you moved towards him pulling him to you by his shirt with desperation. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you sighed, gently pulling it over his head. 

He smiled and let out a breathy chuckle. It was the first time you’d seen him smile since the moment he reunited with Tommy when he and Ellie first arrived in town. This was different, of course: a little playful and a little dirty and something you hoped, at least in the moment, was just for you. 

“Sorry, y’know it’s winter,” he chuckled again as his lips were back on you. 

His hand cupped your breast and then his mouth traveled to your shoulder. You lowered your back to the bed, allowing him to come down with you, his arms pushing himself up on either side of you to get a better view for him to admire your body with his eyes. With a gentle touch of your finger nails, you caressed his forearms and triceps. Your eyes studied the broadness of him and how his chest looked especially strong as he propped himself over you. 

“I’m gonna apologize, ya know, before we---,” he warned quietly, “it’s been a little while.” 

“I reckon we’re more alike than we are different,” you whispered, repeating the words he spoke moments before he kissed you. 

Faster than you could think, he was on you again, somehow expertly unclasping your bra as he rolled with you in your bed sheets. You helped him unbuckle, unzip, and pull off his jeans, laughing as he clumsily kicked them off with his boxers somewhere on your carpeted bedroom floor. With an involuntary bite of your lip, you admired his large, uncut cock as he moved towards you, this time helping you unbutton and unzip your jeans. You lifted your hips as he slid your jeans from them, taking your underwear with them tossing them on the floor to join his. 

You stared at each other for a few moments, drinking in the view of each other’s bodies, maybe even holding a picture of it in your head to keep as a memory to hold on to forever. 

“You sure ‘bout this?” He asked, giving you one more chance to make a smarter, level-headed decision. 

“Joel, please,” you implored, your fingers dancing in his hair, “I need this, need you.”

He brought his face close to yours, first pressing his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss before giving you an equally gentle kiss on your lips. Everything else he did with his mouth however, was anything but sweet and gentle. He led with his tongue, first at your neck and then between the valley of your breasts until he tasted each one, swirling his tongue around the pebbled surface, lightly biting at them with his teeth. The anticipation of where his tongue was leading left you panting. The softness of his lips paired with the coarseness of his mustache and facial hair was the perfect contradiction. Your breath hitched as he kissed your mound, stopping there long enough for you to panic about what he would do next. 

“Joel, is everything ok? Is there…is there something wrong?” You propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he murmured his voice full of marvel like he’d seen a dream, “just admirin’ the view.”

You smiled and before you could say anything else, his mouth was on you. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, as he worked on you first with a broad lap of his tongue through your folds. He works through them at a torturous pace, pitiful moans echoing through your quiet bedroom. And then he moved faster as he savored you, finding your clit poking at it first with a pointed tip of his tongue until he took it between a tight purse of his lips, sucking on it  furiously until you cried out for him to give you more. He swiped a few more heavy stripes down your folds until his lips are on your clit again, sucking and humming, the vibrations making your already sensitive center weepingly wet. 

“Oh god, god, Joel,” you moaned, your hands grasping at his hair, “I haven’t felt this good in so long.”

You cried out incoherently as he chuckled and returned his attention to your clit, maneuvering two fingers in and out of you as his lips continue to suck and vibrate on the most sensitive part of you. He continued to move his fingers in and out of your folds at an agonizingly fast pace. You whimpered helplessly, crying out his name over and over as he worshipped your cunt like his own personal idol. The pressure from his mouth intensified on your clit as his fingers pulsed in and out, in and out until you cried out seeing stars. A hot gush of liquid came out of you covering his face and hand, dripping onto your ass and onto the sheets beneath you. 

“Shit…fuck, Joel, Joel!” You wail, clutching at the sheets from your orgasm. 

He let go of your clit with a gentle kiss that makes your body jolt from overstimulation. Your body was still writhing from your climax, your breaths were still fast as you tried to bring yourself down. Opening your eyes, you lay in a misty daze as Joel crawls towards you, wiping his face and facial hair with the tips of his fingers and the pad of his thumb, taking one last lick of your essence. You hadn’t seen anything so erotic in years and you pulled him close, your chests pressed together as you took him in a long and sensual kiss. 

“Oh sweetheart, we made a little mess,” he growled as he positioned himself over you. 

“I--I forgot I could do that,” you said, still coasting on the high of your last orgasm. 

Joel breathed out with a low and sexy, but at the same time sheepish. You looked at him, seeing his cheeks slightly pink with a mixture of pride and humility. 

“Glad I could help you remember,” he replied with a smirk,that quickly changed into a heavy groan as you pumped his girthy cock. “Fuck sweetheart.”

“Need to feel you inside me, Joel,” you pleaded, bucking your hips up to his. 

“Yes, baby,” he grunts as you wrap your leg around his thigh. 

With a sudden urge you sat up and held him close, kissing him fervently and rolling over him so that his back was on the bed. Your fingernails gently scratched his expansive chest as you straddle him. His eyes gleamed with anticipation that evolved into pure pleasure as you lowered yourself down onto his cock, unable to keep from moaning with the feeling of him stretching you. You bounced on his cock and grind on him with the tightest of circles. 

“Oh, fuck, Joel you feel so good,” you cried, your pussy fluttering with each bounce. 

“Come on, baby,” he groaned as he started to buck his hips up into you with the same rhythm of your bounce. “Keep ridin’ me, you feel so good.”

Moans and slaps of your skin are all that fills the air in your room. You grabbed at his thighs, feeling ecstasy with each bounce. To your surprise he sat up and grabbed you by the waist, thrusting into you and rolling you over so he’s back on top. For a brief moment, his cock left you and you felt suddenly empty. He settled over, pushing your bent legs up towards your chest. The pad of his thumb easily found your clit again and with a few slaps of his cock at your folds, he was pushing into you again. His hips rocked into you in a new found depth and pace as his thumb continued to circle your bundle of nerves. In this position he felt even wider than he had before and your heart and mind raced with each desperate thrust Joel made. That magic feeling began to will within you again as Joel’s pace became faster and faster. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I don’t think I can hold on much longer,” he growled through thrusts, grabbing your hips tightly and angling them upward. 

“Oh god, Joel, please, baby,” you cried, knowing you were right there with him. “Take what you need, baby, please take what you need.”

Neither of you could speak anymore. You’d evolved into an orchestral union of bodies, reaching out for each other and crying out each other's names with each grind, push, and thrust. And like dying stars, you exploded together in your orgasms, crying out praise and gratitude for it all and each other. The way his cock pounded in and out of you so easily and how it mingled with your sticky sweetness took you away for a moment. You began to shake uncontrollably and pulled his face close to yours. 

“Oh fuck---I, sweetheart---” was the last thing he moaned before looking to you for a final answer to a question unspoken. 

“Come inside me, Joel, it’s OK,” you assured, shaking as he gave one, two, three more thrusts to fill you up with him before he whimpered into the crook of your neck. 

You collapsed together on your bed, a tangle of heavy breaths and intertwined limbs. For the longest time, you bathed together in your naked silence, pulling up your quilted comforter over your bodies that were starting to get a little cold from the tiniest bit of winter air that you could feel through the walls. 

Through closed eyes you listened to Joel’s heartbeat through his chest where you had rested your head. He had taken your hand and rested it there, gently caressing it with his. More little comforts came to you in the form of him nuzzling your hair with his cheek and kissing your forehead. You could fall asleep like this, but being awake was more fulfilling in every possible way. 

“Hey,” you heard his voice whisper as he caressed your hair and then your shoulder, “you asleep?”

“No,” you murmured, waiting and wondering about his next words. 

“I’m sorry about Ellie,” he apologized. 

“Mmm, it’s okay,” you replied and then added, “just give her time, she’ll find her way.” 

Heart beats and deep breaths and caresses between words. 

“I think so,” Joel’s voice was rough but more resolved than how he had spoken when he came to your door, “I think with your help, she will.” 

You smiled, feeling tears again slip from the corners of your eyes, a cleansing exhale leaving from your lungs. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” 

He shifted, squeezed your shoulder, and brushed your hair out of your face until you were looking up at him. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly and then kissed you, his fingers caressing your skin, “you take what you need.”

[ivykim]

QUESTIONABLE THINGS IVY HAS SAID

VIDEO START ▶️

“if cats have nine lives, why do jungwon and jay only have one.”

it was in the middle of Manifesto tour where each of them had their own separate rooms. ivy was going mental and bored out of her mind so she decided to turn on a live.

someone commented about jay and jungwon being adorable cats.

“jungwon and jay are adorable. they’re like newborn kittens.” ivy reads off the comment. she hums.

“that’s true. they’re adorable but something irks me.”

“if cats have nine lives, why do jungwon and jay only have one.” she asks in a genuine and questioning tone.

— philosopher vivi working overtime

“we love a sexy barbeque man.”

there were a series of knocks and ivy singing ‘do you want to build a snowman’ outside of sunghoon’s door. it was late at night so ivy did it softly. after all, they finished their concert like an hour ago.

after jay opens the door, ivy joins the live and waves to the camera. jay and sunghoon went on about how tan jay looks compared to sunghoon.

“you look like a good fried chicken.” ivy says.

“what?”

“we love a sexy barbeque man.” she does those chef kisses. the two boys never understood what was going on in ivy’s head.

— i want whatever drugs she’s on

“you🫵🏻 come over here👇🏻 WRIGHT☝🏻 NAOW😤.”

with jungwon zooming around and having a lot of energy, ivy couldn’t fully focus on reading through the ENGENEs comments.

she was really trying. as she reads, jungwon zoom pasts her trying to find a way to lose his high tension.

“you🫵🏻 come over here👇🏻 WRIGHT☝🏻 NAOW😤.” she tells jungwon in English, sounding like a mother scolding her child. jungwon runs back around and sits next to her like a good boy. they continued their live properly.

— aww mama duck vivi

“WHATS WITH THE SKINNY BAMBOO LOOKING LEGS?? COULDN’T THEY HAVE GIVEN OUR DARK MOON CHARACTERS MEAT??”

when the dark moon WEBTOON came out, ivy was curious about the story so she decided to go ahead and read out loud during the live. as she scrolls through, she notices the characters not having much figure.

“what the-” she looks at the characters and then the live and then back at the characters.

“why are they so skinny?”

— engene: “so we’re not the only ones that think that?”

“definitely but oh my god. someone feed the poor vampires- oh sorry for sooha I meant non-vampire. she’s not a vampire everyone. don’t misunderstand.”

“actually, I have to complain to HYBE. why in the world are they so skinny and where in the hell is my character.”

— engene: “oof ivy popping off💅🏻💅🏻”

“WHATS WITH THE SKINNY BAMBOO LOOKING LEGS?? COULDN’T THEY HAVE GIVEN OUR DARK MOON CHARACTERS MEAT??” the passion as she says so.

— passionate vivi. she protects and attacks🤺

*stares at bird* “he would probably make a good source of protein.”

ivy was busy staring out the window. she was bored. waiting for their turn at Inkigayo for their Sweet Venom recording.

“noona, what are you doing?” jay asks as he comes up behind her with a camera.

“looking out the window.” she lays her head against the window and shuts her eyes a little. “I wanna sleep.”

“same. now would be a good time to sleep, I’m dead tired.” jay says.

her stomach grumbles a little. “urgh, now I’m hungry.” just then, a bird had perched onto the ledge in front of the window.

“god, the things I’d do for some chicken.” jay groans. ivy points to the bird and stares at it.

“he would probably make a good source of protein.”

jay has never whipped his head so fast. it’s almost like he would get a whiplash. “HE WHAT?”

— you know she’s crazy when jay looks at her weird

“crazy? I was crazy once. they locked me in a room, a room with sunghoon, and sunghoon makes me crazy. crazy-”

ivy was busy reading a few comments since she was bored and didn’t exactly know what to show the ENGENEs. she was seriously trying to think of a content she could do to engage the audience.

“mmm, do aeygo?” she deadpans at the camera. “sorry, I’m not an aeygo master. you can ask sunoo.”

that is until she decides to pull one aeygo out of nowhere. she easily gets embarrassed. “okay, okay, no more. I look like a goblin doing aeygo.”

“where is sunghoon?” she reads out loud. “he’s probably at the dorms. he finished his schedule for the day.”

“does sunghoon make you crazy? huh? you mean in what way?”

“in general?” she thinks for a second, “crazy? I was crazy once. they locked me in a room, a room with sunghoon, and sunghoon makes me crazy. crazy-”

ENGENEs were commenting thinking ivy drank soju before doing the live.

— not her following that one meme😭😭

“sometimes in life you just have to life.”

ivy was basically doing her normal thing. reading the live comments and also entertaining ENGENEs.

“do you ever feel like a plastic bag.” she reads off the comment. “yes, everyday. i wanna drift through the wind and i want to start life again.”

“noona, are you drunk.”

“I’d like to know too. Maybe this tea has alcohol inside of it but no, I’m not drunk as far as I know.”

“what do you do when life doesn’t go your way.”

“deep question. I like it.” she sighs, “sometimes in life, you just have to life.” she makes a sad face, wiping her fake tears.

“it’s true, that’s how life works when it doesn’t go your way.”

– oml philosopher vivi strikes again

“even if you don’t succeed, just fail.”

in yet another solo live she did, she had basically gotten viral for making these ‘inspiring’ quotes. multiple people praising her because she can make up this true story-comedy quotes.

“unnie, make more inspiring quotes.” she hums at the comment. “give me something you want me to make a quote out of.”

she skims through the various comments, “ah, mmm. you failed a test? I’m so sorry about that.”

“umm, even if you don’t succeed. just fail. studying isn’t everything. you can always try again!”

– I’m gonna kiss her. she’s so perfect

“I’m a sunbae??? THEY ARE HOW OLD??”

with illit debuting, enhypen was finally a sunbae. they had hoobaes under BELIFT Lab now and so ivy heard about them. the boys were just talking about it during the backstage video.

“we are sunbaes now.” jake says.

“mmm.”

“and they are younger than ni-ki. I believe the average age is about 18.6.” jake continues. Ivy hums again before she processes what jake was truly saying then she practically whips her head over.

“I’m a sunbae??? THEY ARE HOW OLD??” she says in shock.

– the cultural shock ivy experienced.

Ivy: turning 23 this year

Iroha: turning 16 this year

*outro of video plays*

PART 2?