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avatar-anna · 4 months

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Hello! I was wondering if you got a request i sent recently? 🤔 it was about dad!harry with Y/N and the girls having their periods all synced up (if you did and didn’t like it that’s totally fine too!!)

Merry and Bright

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader Universe

Merry Christmas from your favorite fictional family! They're all grown up in this one! Enjoy!xx

*.*

When Harry woke up with a small foot in his face, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

He blinked slowly, trying to remember if he and his wife went to bed alone or not. Looking to his side, he saw Y/n sound asleep with her back facing him, a small body in pajamas that matched every member of this family's—cream colored with decorated sugar cookies on them—stretched horizontally across the bed, hence the foot in his face.

Looking at the clock by his bed, Harry's brows raised. It was just after eight, rather late for Christmas morning, though most of the kids were a little older now, and Charlie notoriously slept like the dead despite being five. Still, he expected, maybe even missed, being woken up before the sun came up on Christmas morning because Santa had come and presents had to be opened right away.

Waking up with a little foot in the face or with multiple bodies bouncing on the bed, he wasn't sure which he preferred.

"The morning I don't wake up with a limb in my face could not come soon enough," he grumbled to himself anyway, carefully trying to move his sleeping daughter into a more comfortable position, only to end up with Charlie sprawled across his chest entirely, one hand holding onto a strand of his hair by his ear.

"You should've thought about that before you went and got me pregnant again."

Harry blew out an amused breath. Clearly, Y/n was not as asleep as he thought she was. He tugged a strand of her hair that was splayed across her pillow. "You were all for it at the time."

"I'm not the one complaining about the—Oh," Y/n hissed, her shoulders tensing a little.

Concerned, Harry shifted their still-sleeping daughter in the space between him and Y/n so he could shuffle closer to his wife. He rested a hand on her back and kissed the top of her head. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just cramps. I'll be fine in a minute," she said as she began to shuffle out of bed.

Harry moved his hand to her shoulder to push her back onto the bed. He handed the five-year-old over to Y/n, who immediately curled into her mother's arms. "I'm sorry, love. Why don't you hold onto this little nugget while I get your heating pad."

"It's okay, H. Everyone will be up soon, and—"

"Let me take care of Christmas waffles. You can come down when Charlie wakes up, okay?"

His love smiled sleepily at him before taking his hand in hers and kissing it. "You're too sweet."

"Remember that the next time you're annoyed with me," Harry said with a chuckle. With a kiss to her forehead, he said, "Merry Christmas, my love," then slipped into a robe and left the room.

After getting Y/n's heating pad and making sure Y/n and Charlie were comfortable in bed, he went about getting his day started. He knew he was in for a long day, so he set out to make their traditional big Christmas breakfast for the whole family—waffles, bacon, cut-up fruit, and hot cocoa. He lit up the Christmas tree and turned on the train track he and Julian had been setting up since Jules was seven years old, ensuring everything was ready for when everyone filed down to open presents. Year after year, Christmas morning began later and later. Honestly, Harry thought he would come to appreciate sleeping in an extra couple of hours, but he often found himself missing the days when all of his babies were living at home and opened Christmas presents at six in the morning.

There were perhaps fifteen minutes of peace before Harry could hear sounds of life upstairs. It was like a small wave, a shuffling of feet and the rush of water as his children began brushing their teeth, then there was the thunderous sound of feet rushing down the stairs as the realization that it wasn't an ordinary morning struck. GiGi and Natalia were the first ones to skid to a halt downstairs, excited smiles on their faces as they beheld the small mountain of gifts under the Christmas tree and the smell of waffles coming from the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas!"

Natalia bounded over to Harry, jumping into his arms. He had a split second to set his batter-covered spoon down to catch her. "Merry Christmas, Peanut. Did you wake everyone up yet?"

"Almost," Geneva said as she picked at the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter. "Simone said we can't wake her up until nine."

"Ah. I see," Harry said, knowing full well that his oldest daughter had been out late with her friends last night. "Well, why don't you go and tell her that I'm going to give away her presents and her waffle if she doesn't come down soon."

Natalia and Geneva grinned devilishly, very much on board with bugging their older sister. They scurried back upstairs, giggling to each other as they did so.

Julian was the next to come down, his light brown hair was wet and curly from his shower, a small frown on his face from the early wake-up call. "Collette threw a shoe at me for taking all the hot water."

Harry knew there was probably more to it than that, so he just ruffled his only son's hair affectionately as Jules passed him by the stove. "Be patient, Jules, they're—"

"Going through a lot, I know," he said, shaking his head a little. "Doesn't mean I had to get a shoe thrown at me for it. On Christmas, no less."

Harry gave Jules a pointed look, not completely buying his son's innocence. At his stare, Julian suddenly found the growing stack of waffles Harry was plating very interesting, a small blush on his cheeks.

As the only two boys in the house, Harry and Jules were often on an island of their own, especially one week each month. Over the years, Harry would take Julian and the little ones out of the house for a couple hours when it felt like the two of them were against the rest of the house. Julian didn't mind the occasional quarreling and mood swings that his sisters displayed as much as other brothers might, but Harry knew that his son's patience had its limits. Especially on Christmas morning.

"Go be the favorite child and take this up to your mum, will you?" Harry said, handing over a plate piled high with food.

Scoffing jokingly, Julian said, "Please. I've always been Mom's favorite."

*.*

Harry didn't normally complain about the state of his home, but right now he felt like he was living in a madhouse. Or a landmine.

The key was understanding what made the girls tick—what their symptoms were, what they typically craved, who had a tendency to cry at the drop of a hat. When it was just Y/n, Harry cuddled her in bed, brought her painkillers, and kissed her whenever she needed him to. And then it was Y/n and Simone, and Harry was caring and understanding toward both of them. And then suddenly he was in a house with five women who all got their period at the same time.

The day had gone rather smoothly so far. Everyone eventually trickled down the stairs to eat breakfast and open presents, and the house was soon flooded with wrapping paper, bows, and discarded gift boxes. Harry smiled from ear to ear the whole time as his kids opened their gifts. Even though he could afford to spoil each and every one of his kids every day of the week, Y/n wouldn't let him. She compromised with birthdays and Christmas, but Christmas was when Harry put out all the stops. All year he would plan and plan, ask for Christmas lists months in advance, and spend hours shopping. Y/n used to sigh exasperatedly at her husband's antics, but in the end, she finally let it go. Christmas shopping was one stressor that wasn't on her plate, and she wasn't going to complain about that anymore.

"GiGi, darling, you have to start getting ready for the recital," he said through the door to his daughter's room. Geneva still got embarrassed about getting her period, and now was definitely one of those times.

"I'm not going!"

Harry sighed but decided to move on for now. Y/n would be able to get GiGi dressed and ready to go better than he could, which stung, but he got over it somewhat after his first two daughters. And there were a number of things he could be taking care of to make sure they got out of the house on time, anyway.

When he got back downstairs, Julian, Y/n, and Charlie were in the kitchen, all dressed in their Christmas best. Y/n was straightening the collar of Julian's dress shirt while Charlie clung to his back. Harry made a beeline for his wife, kissing the back of her head as he snaked a hand around her waist.

"You look beautiful," Harry said softly, his thumb rubbing the silky material of her satin skirt.

"What about me, Daddy?"

Harry looked at his youngest daughter. Her hair was done up in a tight bun, most likely done by Y/n, and she was already dressed in her leotard and tights. The only thing missing was the matching sparkly tutu and snowflake hairpiece, but that would come later.

"You look wonderful," Harry said. "You excited for tonight?"

Charlie nodded excitedly, her broad grin nearly identical to her mother's save the dimples in her cheeks. "JuJu's been helping me with my dance.

"It's nothing," Julian said, who was now holding Charlie on his hip since Y/n was done fixing his dress shirt and doing up his tie. Charlie giggled, which made him offer her a small high-five. They were an unusual pair considering their age difference, but Julian loved doting on his littlest sister. And molding her into his little sidekick. "First ones ready though, weren't we, Charlie?"

Y/n shot Julian a look, knowing he was teasing his sisters. Normally, she didn't mind so much, but there were a lot of ever-changing emotions running through the house currently, and it was easier to keep the peace than put out a fire. To Harry, she said, "The girls are getting dressed. Collette wanted to film, but I made sure she gave herself enough time to be ready otherwise she'd have to drive separately. And Maeve was lacing up her shoes when I checked in.”

Nodding, Harry asked, "Can you go talk to Gi? She's...not eager to leave the house."

"Already on it," Y/n said, ruffling Julian's hair as she walked by, which he immediately swatted.

"Do you want to practice at all before we leave?" Harry asked, turning to the youngest member of his family. He wasn't totally surprised that they were spending their Christmas evening at a holiday dance recital, seeing as this was one in a long line of pageants and concerts, but Charlie seemed the most committed to dance out of all his children, even at just five years old. To Harry, it felt like they'd gone to every match, game, meet, and recital possible. Between the seven kids, there was no sport or extracurricular left unturned, but he was often fond of watching his kids perform on a stage of any kind.

Charlie nodded excitedly, shimmying down from Julian's hip. "I've been practicing really hard!"

"She has. Her pirouette is flawless," Jules said with a serious nod of his head.

"Alrighty, let's see it, peanut," Harry said, kissing her forehead.

It wasn't a long routine. Charlie was five, after all. There was a lot of choreographed walking, a couple turns and leaps, and arms spread out wide and above her head. Harry was sure there would be a handful of mess-ups during the performance, and one child would probably end up crying backstage, but Harry, along with the rest of the Styles clan, would cheer for the youngest member of their family as if they were watching a professional ballet performance.

By the time Charlie finished showing Harry, and Julian her routine, more of the family had found their way downstairs. Simone shuffled around in her slippers, a pair of heeled boots in her hands, Natalia and Geneva trailing behind her with matching French braids in their hair, Y/n bringing up the rear. Geneva seemed to be in much better spirits than when Harry spoke to her, which he could only be thankful for. He and his wife were a team after all, and they didn't keep score on parental abilities and duties. Not anymore, anyway, but it had all been in good fun.

"Collette's just finishing up Maeve's hair," Simone said, going over to stand by her brother.

"Perfect," Harry said, checking his watch, a brand new gift from Y/n. There was an inscription on the back with the date, which nearly made Harry cry when he saw it. To my greatest love, it read, with seven little Xs to represent each of their children. "We're right on schedule."

"Since when have we ever followed a schedule?" Simone asked.

"You haven't heard? Dad's gone full-on dance mom," Julian said. "All the other moms in Charlie's class are in love with him because he stays and watches her rehearsals every week."

Simone's brows raised, no doubt a tease for her father poised on her lips, but Harry was quick to interject. "That's not true!"

"It's a little true, baby," Y/n said, coming over to kiss him on the cheek. Even in his late thirties, her husband was undeniably handsome. She'd given up on having feelings about people openly oggling her husband years ago. She knew Harry would never be interested in anyone else. They could look, but never touch, and that was enough for Y/n. "But you're still the best dance-dad ever."

"We're ready!"

Collette and Maeve bounded down the stairs curled to perfection as it bounced with each step. Harry noticed that Collette was wearing an old sweater from his closet, probably one she'd nabbed while he was on a trip, but he decided not to comment on it. He saw the look on his wife's face, though. Y/n's expression was soft as if she was recalling a memory from years ago.

Squeezing her hand once, Harry began ushering everyone out of the house and into the car. Two cars, actually. Driving separately was a common occurrence when the family was all together. Y/n and Harry learned rather quickly that arguments were less likely to break out if the kids weren't packed together in the back seats like sardines. So Harry and Y/n took the twins and Charlie in one car, and Simone drove Collette, Geneva, and Natalia in the other.

Harry sometimes couldn't quite believe that his little girl was in college, let alone driving on her own places. In a lot of ways, Harry and Simone had grown up together as he learned how to become a father at such a young age while simultaneously trying to raise a baby with Y/n. He'd grown up wanting to give his daughter the world, and as he watched her slide into the front seat of her car, one that she bought with her own money after saving up for the last couple years, smiling and laughing at something one of her younger sisters said, he could only hope he'd fulfilled that wish.

Later on, Harry was backstage with Charlie. Her snowflake headpiece was an immovable force on her head, her cheeks sparkled with a little glitter that all the other little snowflakes were wearing as part of their costume, and her white tutu sparkled under the lights of the school auditorium they were in. Charlie had a small pout on her face as she shifted nervously from foot to foot, her big eyes wide as the nerves settled in.

"You're gonna do great, peanut," Harry assured, his gaze level with hers as he knelt down on the floor. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but you're the best ballerina here."

"Really?" A small smile threatened to break through Charlie's nervous frown, and Harry knew she would be ready to go out and perform any minute now.

"Really," he promised, kissing her cheek. Charlie's cheeks had been adorably round when she was a baby, but most of the baby fat had disappeared now that she was a little older, but Harry still thought she would be the cutest, most talented dancer out on that stage tonight. "And even if you do mess up, or if you forget a step, I'm still gonna be so proud of you. We all will be. Okay? If you get nervous out there, look for me."

"Okay, Daddy."

Harry figured Charlie was as ready as she'd ever be. "Alright then. Give your dad one last squeeze."

Charlie lept into Harry's arms, squeezing him for all she was worth. He held her close, careful not to smush the glittery tutu between them. Only letting go when she began to wriggle around in his arms, Harry stood up and walked Charlie to where the rest of the little snowflakes were standing as they waited to go onstage. She wouldn't let him leave until the very last minute, only letting go of his hand when her dance teacher it was nearly time for them to start. Harry gave her one last kiss on top of her head before heading to his seat where the rest of his family was waiting.

It was a good turnout. His and Y/n's parents were in the row behind Y/n and the kids, along with one of Harry's old bandmates who happened to be in town for the holidays. Harry didn't get to see them as much as he would've liked these days, but he knew that any of them would drop any and everything for his kids. Just a few years ago, they all showed up for Simone's high school graduation.

"Everything okay back there?" Y/n asked as Harry settled down in his seat.

He took her hand in his and set it in his lap, his thumb grazing over hers absentmindedly. "Should be. Gave her a pretty good pep talk if I do say so myself."

Y/n scoffed playfully, knowing full well that Charlie was one hundred percent a "daddy's girl." Before she could say anything, though, Harry's mother leaned forward in her seat to ask about their post-recital dinner plans, and shortly after that, the lights dimmed and the performances began.

When it was done, the small section dedicated to Charlie's biggest fans cheered loudly, not caring that phones were turned in their direction or that they were maybe being too loud for a kindergarten dance recital. None of that mattered to Harry as Charlie beamed at them from the stage as she took a final bow, waving at her family excitedly.

At the end of the night, as Harry and Y/n got into bed, he couldn't help but grin at another perfect Christmas completed. It was off to an unusually slow start, and there was definitely potential for tears and arguments, but he couldn't have been more pleased by how everything turned out.

There was a time when even though Harry loved Christmas with Simone, then Simone and Collette, and so on, he somewhat mourned the idea of a Christmas with just Y/n. Because they had their daughter so young, he and Y/n never had the opportunity to enjoy the holidays just by themselves. It would've been nice, but Harry wouldn't change his experiences for the world, and he eventually didn't even want to think about what Christmas without his family looked like. Those memories were too precious to regret or want to change, and he knew Y/n felt the same.

"Another perfect Christmas for the books," he said as he climbed into bed next to Y/n, just half of their family Christmas pajamas on. He tended to do away with a shirt if he thought he and Y/n could get away with sleeping by themselves without any midnight intruders.

"Mm. I'd say so," Y/n agreed as she snuggled up to Harry's side. "Charlie was so good tonight, wasn't she?"

Harry's heart swelled with pride at the thought of his daughter's performance tonight. "Definitely a career there if she wants one."

"Easy there," his wife chuckled. "She's only five."

Harry merely nodded, but he was already thinking about the future Charlie's talent could give her. He didn't care if that did make him somewhat of a "dance mom," he just wanted his kids to be happy, and if a dance career was what Charlie wanted, then Harry would do everything he could to help her get there.

"I do have one more gift."

"Really?" Harry couldn't think of anything else he could possibly need, but he watched curiously as Y/n shuffled away from him to root around her nightstand for something. When she found it, she sat up to face him better.

With wide eyes, Harry stared as she opened up a small velvet box, a sleek metal band inside it. He couldn't even form words as he looked at it, eyes suddenly welling up with tears he didn't want to shed until Y/n explained.

"Maybe I should've done this at dinner tonight with our parents and the kids, but I wanted this moment to just be ours," she said, cheeks turning a little pink. "I—I know we're already married, but that was seventeen years ago, H. Can you believe that?"

"I don't know where the time's gone," he breathed. They were the first words that came to mind.

"Time flies when you get me pregnant six times," she teased, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. Her thumb moved across his skin, wiping away a tear he didn't even realize had fallen. "But I just thought now that our family is officially complete. And I really do mean that. We could renew our vows or something. Usually that sort of thing is reserved for special anniversaries, but the timing feels right, and I found out I was pregnant when I was seventeen, so—"

"It's perfect," Harry said.

Y/n looked up at him nervously, as if he would've disagreed for some reason. "Really?"

"Yes, Mama. This is—This is the best gift you've ever given me. Outside those precious little humans in our house right now," Harry said, adding the last part as an afterthought. "I can't think of a better way to end my Christmas."

Harry let Y/n slide the ring onto his finger. Y/n had had a small band for a long time now, an anniversary gift to commemorate their small wedding all those years ago. Harry couldn't wear one at the time because their relationship, along with the rest of his family, was a heavily guarded secret, and a band on his left ring finger would draw way too many questions.

But their relationship wasn't a secret anymore, and while they did their best to stay out of the limelight, Harry had no problem with wearing the ring. He would get something for Y/n too. He'd always wanted to get her a big ring, one that signified just how much he loved and appreciated and admired her, both as his partner and the mother of his children. Now was the perfect opportunity.

"You really outdid yourself this year, Mama," Harry murmured, sliding a hand into her hair to cup one side of her face.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I was partially drawn to the idea after thinking we could have a honeymoon afterward?" she said, a small smirk on her face.

"You've really thought this through, huh?"

Y/n kissed Harry on the lips. A peck, really, and he suddenly needed much more. "Mmhm. Want to hear the details now or later?"

Later, definitely later, Harry thought, but he opted to just kiss his wife instead.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Everyone's ages:

Harry: 39

Y/n: 39

Simone: 20

Collette: 17

Twins: 16

Geneva: 12

Natalia: 11

Charlie: 5

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young dadrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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sorbetisfruity · 1 year

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A little continuation of my Leona imagine because y’all liked it smmmmm🤞🤞

So turns out, you’re gonna be spending the night!!

Cheka BEGS and BEGS for you to spend just one night, because he missed you and wants to stay with you. He doesn’t wanna see you go again:(

And since you’re staying, Leona is staying too because there is no way in HELL he’s leaving you with his family.

(His brother and sister-in-law would’ve definitely stayed up all night asking you very embarrassing questions and showing you embarrassing pictures of him.)

Cheka is ecstatic once you agree to stay the night. You can’t say no to him, not when he gives you the most adorable puppy eyes you’ve ever seen!!:(

“So, where will I be sleeping? I’m completely fine with the couch, after all I know it’s uhm..short notice..” you nervously giggle out as Cheka clings to you.

“Oh, unfortunately none of our guest rooms are cleaned out for you. And we wouldn’t want one of Leona’s “friends” to sleep on the couch!” His brother says, winking at his wife.

“How about you sleep with Leona? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

(They totally have guest rooms cleaned out btw. They just NEEEEDDDD you two to get together.)

And suddenly, your face is warm and red, and you can hear Leona’s feet hit the ground as he walks up behind you.

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna bother Leona. I can be quite restless and I know how much he loves his sleep..” you insist, distracting yourself with Cheka as he messes with your hand, “trust me, the couch is fine.”

“If you didn’t wanna sleep with me, you could’ve just said so herbivore.” Leona teases, leaning against you as he yawns.

“It’s not that..i just can’t guarantee I’ll fall asleep right away. Knowing you, you’ll fall asleep as soon as your head hits your pillow.” You roll your eyes playfully, pushing him off of you gently.

“You’re practically falling asleep right now!” You say as you lean down to pick up Cheka.

His brother and his wife are laughing and awing at the little interaction between you two:((

“Yeah yeah whatever. I can just take the couch ya know.” Leona leans against the wall as he speaks, looking at you.

“What? Dude no. It’s literally your house, and your room. If anyone should take the couch then it’s me. I’m the one staying the night last minute.”

Leona gets off of his spot on the wall, coming over to you.

“Herbivore it’s-”

“So it’s final!! You’re staying in Leona’s room!” His brother interrupts, patting Leona roughly on the back.

“I..guess it is.” You say nervously, your cheeks turning red.

“Yeah I guess it is Herbivore.” You turn to Leona as he speaks. His tail wags furiously, hitting the floor and making loud thumps.

His cheeks were flushed too, and you really couldn’t tell if it was because of the savanna heat or the fact that you two were gonna sleep together.

“Well, come on. I’ll show you where my room is.” Leona says, grabbing your hand and yanking you along.

You put Cheka down softly, ignoring his complains and waving goodbye as Leona pulls you along impatiently.

So, fast forward, it’s night time and you’re trying to find out sleeping arrangements.

You’re insisting you can just sleep on the floor but Leona is not taking ANY of your shit.

At some point Leona just pulls you into bed and holds you close, wrapping his limbs around you.

“Now shut the hell up. I’m tired and you’re warm, so go to sleep Herbivore.” He says with a yawn, his warm breath hitting your neck.

You sigh, wiggling to get comfy as he holds you tighter and closer to him, trying not to focus on the fact that you two are so close.

You could feel his heartbeat and he could feel yours. It was clear he was a bit flustered and nervous about sleeping together too.

You end up falling asleep first by the way. It was a long day and you were very sleepy.

And for a little while, Leona just sat there and watched your sleeping face. Not in a creepy way of course, more of a “wow i can’t believe they’re here in my arms right now” kind of way.

And before he closes his eyes, he gives you a little kiss on your forehead. Then he finally falls asleep.

And since Leona is a huge fan of sleeping, there’s no way in hell you two are getting out of bed before 12 pm.

So his brother and sister-in-law come in in the morning and see you two cuddling, and saw that Cheka even snuck in at some point last night and is cuddled in between you two.

And all they can do is point and giggle and be in complete awe about how cute you three look:(((

You three really look like a family :(((((

(Btw yes, they definitely took pictures and will tease Leona about it next time he comes over.)

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst mc #disney twst #twst leona #twst leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona #leona x reader #cheka kingscholar #twisted wonderland cheka

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teaboot · 1 year

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Fun fight things I never see in fight scenes:

You are giving me important information from the sidelines and I can't hear you because my entire head inside this man's armpit

We are fighting and it is important that I focus on winning but I am hesitant to pull this maneuver because doing it puts me in danger of accidentally grabbing a dick or a titty

Someone's hand slipped up a shirt or down a waistband for a sec and we're both gonna pretend it didn't until we die

Dude you just got drool like all fucking over my face just now what the fuck

Okay I get that you're about to snap my neck with your thighs but also you totally just farted a bit which is reasonable considering the position we're in but still oh my God

If the last thing I experience on earth before I die is your ass in my face I'm going to drag you to hell with me

Someone is trying to give me advice right now and if they don't shut the fuck up I'm gonna kill them

I know the perfect maneuver to get out of this but if I go for it I'm definitely gonna dislocate my shoulder and I haven't decided if I want the win that bad yet

I just heard my knee pop and either it's fine or I'm going to spend the next six months in physical therapy and be in pain for the rest of my life

I thought I walked away from that ok but it's three in the morning and I just woke up out of a dead sleep because one of my limbs just started screaming

"You should ice that" Is the physical injury version of "Well its gotta be around here somewhere"

AW YEAH DID YOU SEE THAT I PULLED THAT SO SMOOTH IM SO GOOD IM KICKING ASS RIGHT NOW And ah fuck he got me

Hey bud you wanna maybe stop watching and lend me a fucking hand maybe

I Am Between You And Very Upset Person And If You Keep Pissing Them Off Then I Am Going To Get Stabbed

Nobody Expects To Get Licked

Oh God dude you smell so bad. Like you smell SO bad

Okay so like. I WOULD fight you but tbh you're actually super gross and I sort of don't wanna touch you. What is that stain from? You know what I don't wanna know, I don't wanna think about it

You are giving me important information from the sidelines but are missing some critical details that I cannot explain right now and you're getting frustrated that I'm not listening and I'm getting frustrated that you're angry at me for not doing something that will break both my arms at the same time

Sweetheart I love you to the moon and back but cheering me on is actually very distracting and I'm gonna need you to stop right now exactly right now please and thank you so so much baby PLEASE

Why do I smell like them now. Oh God I need a shower

WAS THAT A FUCKING BOOGER WHAT THE FUCK EW EW EW EW EW

haha nice underwear dipshit lol

#Fight #Violence #Source: sparring and life experience #Sometimes its funny

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proxima-writes · 1 year

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title: the babysitter | part 2

part 1

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller/babysitter!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 3858

summary:

Joel is ready to move on from last week's....incident.

You're not going to let him off the hook that easy.

author's note: the people have spoken, and they want more joel x babysitter! everyone owes this anon for their original request. thank you all so much for your support on my works and for 600 followers. please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you enjoyed!

you can also buy me a coffee

content warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), pre-outbreak, age difference (21f and 36m), no use of y/n, sarah is younger than canon, joel's guilt about power imbalance dynamics and age gap, major daddy kink, dirty talk, guided masturbation, snooping/perv behavior, mentions of joel being on the atkins diet, begging, praise kink, pet names, orgasm control, unprotected p in v, limited aftercare. let me know if any are missing!

Joel’s palms are sweaty as he checks his watch for the hundredth time. You’re due at his house in five minutes for your scheduled evening of babysitting so that he can go out with his brother, Tommy, and he wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck if not for the fact that the last time you were here, he’d gotten his mouth on your delicious cunt and the taste of you is the only thing he’s had on his mind for the past six days.

He tries to block out the vision you’d made, writhing around on his tongue and fingers, hips flexing against his face as you try to keep quiet, but it’s a fruitless effort. And when he catches himself thinking about you, the guilt rolls through him in equal measure. You’re young, too young, and Sarah’s babysitter. His daughter adores you and would be devastated if he had to replace you because he can’t keep his fucking dick under control.

Which is why he’s so nervous tonight. He needs to be the adult in this scenario and put his foot down. What happened was a mistake and he would very much like to move past it, so long as you’re comfortable with that. If you don’t want to babysit Sarah anymore, he’ll just have to grin and bear it.

A knock at the door interrupts his nervous pacing. Sarah flies down the stairs in a flurry of curly hair and gangly adolescent limbs, opening the door and immediately wrapping her arms around you. You hug the girl back, smoothing her hair and smiling down at her as she launches into a retelling of her past week away from you. Your undivided attention to his daughter and your kind, patient smile as you listen to her story make his heart clench in his chest.

Finally, you look up at Joel, giving him a sweet little smile of his own. He swallows nervously.

“Sarah, could you head upstairs and give us a sec to talk?” He asks his daughter. She pouts, grumbling about wanting to play Jenga, but does as she’s asked. You look at Joel expectantly.

“Listen, I just…wanted to apologize for last week,” he starts, running a hand through his hair nervously. “What I did was extremely inappropriate. And if you don’t want to babysit Sarah anymore–”

“Woah, hey. Everything’s totally fine, Mr. Miller,” you say, cutting him off.

He lets out a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent,” you reply. You place a hand on his shoulder and he can feel the heat of it through the cotton like a brand. He feels stuck in place as you squeeze gently, before letting your hand slide down his arm as you remove it. “I’m absolutely sure.”

You wink at him before taking a step back and head in the direction of Sarah’s room without looking back at him.

Shit.

______

You’re playing Jenga with Sarah, as promised when Joel pops his head into her room to say goodbye to his daughter. The young girl squeezes him tightly around his middle, looking up at him with all the love in her eyes. Your smile is soft as you watch the pair.

You’ve been Sarah’s babysitter for three years now, since she was three years old and Joel reached out to you at the recommendation of his neighbor, your former English teacher in high school. Back then, the stress of navigating the terrible twos and threenager stages of toddlerhood had really been wearing the single father down. Between his hard labor as a contractor and a strong willed daughter, he had been stretching himself thin.

You remember when you first met him. He’d answered the door with his hair still wet from the shower, slicked back from his handsome face. His brown eyes had faint circles beneath them and his smile was tight as he ushered you inside and introduced you to his daughter.

The little girl had acted shy but all it took was telling her your favorite Disney princess for her to emerge from her shell, her little fingers wrapping around yours to lead you to her room to show off her doll collection.

It gives you a quiet sense of satisfaction to look at Joel now and see that the circles of exhaustion have faded and that the tension in his shoulders has eased thanks to the break you afford him. You want to take care of him. To please him.

In more ways than one.

You shake yourself free of your thoughts as Joel turns to say goodbye to you. He lifts his hand in an awkward little wave before heading downstairs. You hear the front door open and shut, breathing a sigh of relief. The Jenga blocks tumble to the floor with Sarah’s next move, drawing you back to the present.

There will be time later to think about Joel.

You just have to be patient.

________

You quietly shut the door to Sarah’s room before tip-toeing down the hall to the closed door of the master bedroom. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you tentatively turn the knob.

The room is dark, but you can make out the dark shapes of the furniture as your eyes adjust. Your eyes zero in on the large bed in the center of the room, the sheets still rumpled from sleep. Joel Miller doesn’t make his bed in the morning. Your tummy flutters at the idea of knowing this little tidbit about the older man.

With careful steps you make your way to the bedside table, flicking the lamp on. The room illuminates in the warm glow, and you take in the small details that make up the man you’ve had an all-consuming crush on for three years.

The hamper of clothes in the corner and the stray articles of clothing that didn’t make it to their destination littering the floor. His dresser is mostly clear, save for some mail and a bottle of cologne with the top left off. You pick the bottle up, the glass heavy in your hand as you bring it to your face.

It’s citrusy, like fresh oranges, but there’s an underlying spice to it that reminds you of fresh cracked pepper and your favorite bergamot candle. The scent settles over you like a comforting blanket, making a little shiver dance across your spine. You want the scent all around you.

On top of you.

Under you.

You set the bottle back down, moving on in your exploration. The cluttered nightstand calls to you next.

There’s a stack of three books on the corner. One of them is a business advice book, likely for his endeavor to branch out and form his own contracting business with his brother, Tommy.

Another is a book on the Atkins diet, which makes you frown. Joel has an incredible body, the strength of it earned from hard work and the softness of it earned from a life well lived. Your mind drifts to thoughts of those strong arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him like he can’t bear to let you go. Or wrapped beneath your back as his hips slam against yours, his brow shiny with sweat from his effort.

Fuck.

The third book is a new copy of The Da Vinci Code. You open the hardcover to read the excerpt, only for a piece of paper to flutter to the ground. You bend to pick it up, turning it over in your hand.

It’s a photo of you and Sarah from when you took her to the aquarium on a day when Joel got called into work for an emergency at a job site. You remember Sarah had been bummed that she would miss her dad on a Saturday, one of the only days she got to spend with him since he always works so late. But the aquarium had mermaids and Sarah was obsessed with The Little Mermaid at the time.

The photo in question is of the two of you posed in front of the giant shark tooth display, your arm around Sarah’s shoulders and hers around your waist. The photo is cracked, like it’s been folded a number of times. You trace the faint line that bisects the image between you and Sarah.

Folding it along the same crease, you’re left with just a photo of you.

Interesting.

Mr. Miller can’t come home soon enough.

________

Joel’s feeling good as he unlocks his front door. The few drinks he had with his brother have softened the worries that linger in his mind surrounding you. Everything is going to be fine and the two of you can move past this.

The house is dark when he opens the door, a surprise to him given that you’re usually watching TV in the living room or studying in the kitchen when he comes home. It’s quiet, too. No gentle hum of muffled dialogue from the TV or the soft music that you’ll play.

Joel heads upstairs. He pokes his head into Sarah’s room, her night light revealing a mass of curly hair tucked beneath sheets that she’s pulled up to her chin. There’s no sign of you in her room, either. He closes the door as quietly as he can, the click of the latch ricocheting in the quiet hallway.

He checks the upstairs bathroom, only to find it empty as well.

Which means there’s only one other place you could be.

His heart rate kicks up as he approaches his bedroom. There’s a faint strip of light at the bottom of the door, like a beacon calling his name. With a deep breath, he turns the knob and steps inside.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” He hisses, shutting the door sharply behind him.

You look at him through half-lidded eyes, right hand slipped into a pair of lacy white panties, fingers moving in slow circles beneath the fabric. Your hips jerk against your hand, back arching on the bed, his bed, as you let out a quiet whimper. You’ve got one of his shirts on, the fabric rucked up to the middle of your waist, nipples straining with your arousal.

“Waiting for you to get home, daddy,” you reply, voice high pitched and needy.

Joel sucks in a sharp breath of air, eyes fluttering as he tries to control himself. “Don’t call me that,” he finally says through gritted teeth.

You regard him for a moment, and Joel feels like his every thought and emotion is flayed open for your perusal. “Why? Because you don’t like it? Or because you like it too much?” You smirk at him. “I found the picture, daddy. You been lookin’ at me all alone at night?”

Joel’s hands curl into fists at his sides. He stares at you for so long he can feel his eyes burn with the strain of trying not to blink, in case you disappear. He feels like he’s caught at the top of a rollercoaster, the biggest hill possible with the greatest fall on either side.

On the one hand, he could fall into bed with you.

On the other hand, he can fall out of your life.

And the physical pain he feels at that option has him rubbing his chest to soothe the ache.

He takes a cautious step forward. Then another. He sits himself on the corner of the bed as you watch him with wide, expectant eyes.

“Why’d you stop, baby?” He asks, nodding towards your hand. “You sure were feelin’ bold, snoopin’ around my room and gettin’ into my bed, huh?”

“Just wanted to be close to you, daddy,” you tell him. Your fingers start moving again, tentatively, nothing like the rapid rhythm from before.

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He asks, eyes trailing your body. “Lift up that shirt for me.”

You do as you’re told, your gorgeous tits on display for him. He palms his cock, rock hard in the confines of his jeans.

“I want you to pinch one of those pretty nipples for me,” Joel says. He groans as you follow his instruction, thumb and forefinger grasping the pert nub, twisting as you moan. “That’s it, want you to get them nice and sensitive for me, princess.”

“Now, spread your legs for me,” he continues. “How wet did you get your little pussy before daddy interrupted?” You spread your legs and Joel can barely stop himself from reaching out to run his thumb over the wet spot that’s formed on the gusset. “I asked you a question, darlin’.”

“I-I don’t know,” you murmur.

“Check for me, will ya? Slip those little fingers down there and show daddy,” he whispers. He can barely recognize his own voice, the deep tenor of it a register he hasn’t heard from himself before. He licks his lips as you slip your hand beneath the elastic, running your fingers through your pussy. He can hear how wet you are, the slick glide of your fingers echoing in his head. “Show me, baby, come on, don’t keep daddy waitin’.”

You withdraw your hand and hold it out for his inspection. The digits glisten with your essence, the earthy scent hitting him like a freight train. Joel groans, head dropping as he fights to keep his composure.

“Take your panties off,” Joel demands. You lift your hips from the mattress, pushing the scrap of lace down your thighs. “Give ‘em to me.”

You drop the garment in his outstretched palm. Joel brings it to his face, taking a deep inhale. The scent of you, the combination of laundry detergent and vanilla and the musk of your wetness left behind in the threads, has him feeling lightheaded with desire. You whine, squirming impatiently.

“Daddy…,” you whimper. “Please touch me.”

“No, sweetheart, I shouldn’t be touchin’ you but this…this is fine, right? This ain’t touchin’,” Joel says, moving himself closer to you. “This doesn’t count.”

“Can I at least see you? Please?” You beg. And god, with your big doe eyes shining up at him like that he’s certain he’d kill a man if you only asked.

Joel stands from the bed, eyes never leaving you as he fights to remove his boots and jeans and shirt. He grabs your panties from where he’d dropped them on the bed in his haste to stand, wrapping them around his palm and taking his cock in hand. He lets out a desperate groan that you echo with your own.

“Put those dirty fuckin’ fingers in your cunt,” Joel growls. You run a finger through your folds before sinking one deep inside yourself. “That’s it, honey, that feels good, right? Giving your pretty little pussy some attention?”

All you can do is nod, mouth open in a silent moan as you work your hand against yourself. “Wish it was you, though, daddy,” you whine, hips flexing as you use your other hand to rub your clit.

“C-can’t, baby,” Joel stutters, hand slowing on his cock to bring him back from the edge. The sudden rush of endorphins makes him lightheaded.

“Please? I’ve been such a good girl,” you say. “Just a little bit, please!”

Joel’s chest heaves with desperate breaths, heart nearly beating from his chest. He can’t do this, he can’t touch you, not again. This is safer, this is a compromise that he’ll just have to live with.

“Just a little?” He finds himself asking. “And then you’ll stop beggin’?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” you sob. He plants one knee on the bed, then the other, crawling up the mattress toward your sweet, soft body. He longs to touch you, to run his rough hands across the smooth skin, but he has to draw the line somewhere, even if the line is as permanent as smoke in the wind.

He kneels between your obscenely spread legs, your pussy glistening in the low light and the heat of you so close to where he needs it most he feels his resolve crumbling to dust. He gathers the spit on his tongue and lets it drip onto your mound. Your back arches, the motion dragging the sensitive head of his cock just barely through your wetness.

“Christ, darlin’,” Joel grunts. “I’m not gonna survive you, am I?”

“What a way to go, huh?” You reply with a breathy laugh. Joel smiles down at you, a little grin lighting up your face and he has a flash of a vision of you downstairs in the kitchen, giving him the same smile when he comes home from work.

Joel shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts before they can embed themselves any deeper. He takes himself in hand, sliding the thick head through your slick before notching himself as your entrance.

Your pussy welcomes him with delicious warmth, the slow glide of his cock through your tight cunt pure torture. Joel keeps his eyes fixed on your face, on the way your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open as you press your head against the mattress. Your body welcomes him, like he’s been the missing piece this whole time.

“Daddy,” you murmur as he bottoms out, the front of his thighs pressed to the back of yours. “You feel so fucking good.”

Joel’s cock twitches inside you, making you cry out loudly. He doesn’t even think before pressing a hand to your mouth, your eyes wide above his palm.

“Can’t be sayin’ that, baby, I’m tryin’ to keep my promise,” Joel all but begs. His hips flex the smallest bit and he can feel the responding moan from your lips against his palm. “Fuck.”

Joel removes his hand and plants his palms on the mattress on either side of your head. You flex your hips, the movement sliding him in and out and fuck, he can’t take this anymore.

He hopes hell welcomes him with open arms.

Joel slides himself free of your body with a groan, hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he twists your body beneath his. Your ass is in the air, putting your desperate cunt on display, begging to be filled again.

He shuffles forward, thrusting back inside of you in one sharp movement. He can hear your muffled shouts being absorbed by the mattress as he pounds inside of you.

“This what you wanted? Huh? Wanted daddy to take this sweet little pussy?” He asks through gritted teeth. He groans, a deep rumble in his chest as he withdraws, slow as he can manage, to feel the grip of your walls around his cock. “Ohhhh, f-fuck, baby. You f-feel so goddamn g-good.”

You turn your head, and Joel relishes in how wrecked you look. Your hair is a mess and there are lines across your face, imprints of his sheets from being pressed into the mattress. Your eyes are wide and glassy, pupils blown so black he thinks he’d see the stars in your eyes if he looked long enough.

“D-daddy,” you whine. “Wanna come!”

“N-no, don’t you fuckin’ dare come until I say,” he growls, punctuating the command with a sharp smack of his palm across your ass. “You understand, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Fuckin’. Girl,” Joel growls, slamming into you with as much force as he thinks your sweet little body can take. You bury your face against the mattress as you sob, your pussy clenching tightly around him.

He pulls out again and your body sags to the mattress without his support. He maneuvers your bodies so that you’re facing each other, pulling a leg over his hip so that he can thrust his cock into you once more.

This position is intimate, your breaths mingling as he flexes his hips against yours. You brush your lips against his and he topples over another cliff, destroying another poorly drawn line as he groans into your mouth, clutching your body desperately to his as your tongues tangle together.

“This pussy,” Joel says, “feels like heaven, sweetheart. Fuck.”

“Please let me come, daddy,” you sob, your damp forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Please, please, please.”

“Just a little longer, baby, I promise, I just wanna feel you,” he murmurs soothingly. “You just feel so good, honey, I can’t let it be over yet.”

You give a sad little whine as you nuzzle against his neck, your lips pressing against his frantic pulse. You bite and lick and kiss at the delicate skin and Joel can’t hold back anymore. He needs to feel you come undone around him.

“A-Alright, baby, I’ll let you come now, okay? Can you do that for daddy? Can you soak his cock so fuckin’ good, huh?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you pant. Each thrust Joel gives is punishing as he grinds himself inside of you. He slips a hand between your bodies to swipe at your clit before capturing your lips with his own to swallow the moan that spills from between them.

Your body goes tight around him, pussy fluttering and squeezing him within an inch of his life. He bites back his own release, desperate to feel you through yours. When your limbs start to go loose, he slips himself free, grinding his cock against your low belly until he comes, hot ropes of his spend marking your skin.

He holds you as you both catch your breath, the cool air making your sweat slick skin break out in goosebumps that he chases with his fingertips. As the fog of his orgasm recedes from his brain, Joel feels the telltale tendrils of guilt creep in.

“Please, don’t freak out, Joel,” you say with a sigh. You lean back to look him in the eye. “I wanted this.”

“But—“

“Nope. Shush. Go get me a washcloth, please?”

Joel stands on shaky limbs, heading to the bathroom to fulfill your request. When he returns, he smooths the wet cloth first through your sensitive, puffy lips before using it to collect the sticky mess he’d left behind on your skin. You watch him with another little smile, eyes soft and clear in your post-orgasm haze.

“Thanks,” you tell him before sitting up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a discarded t-shirt. You pull your shorts up your thighs, shimmying them into place on your hips. Joel feels his cock give a valiant little twitch at the sight. “Now, walk me out, will you?”

Joel feels like he’s got whiplash, following you out to your car parked in the driveway. He opens your door for you and watches you settle in. When you look up at him, he can’t help but lean forward and press a slow kiss to your lips.

“Drive safe,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. You roll your eyes as you shut the door and start the car.

Joel knocks on the window, a thought having occurred to him. You roll it down and raise your eyebrow at him.

“You left your panties,” he says.

“Keep ‘em,” you reply, lips tilted in a devilish smirk. “I’ll be back next week.”

Joel Miller taglist: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123on123 @bean-is-readingng @darlingpedrodro @silkiers @pascals-cat

Want more Joel? View the Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #no use of y/n #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x babysitter!reader #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo

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delicatestones · 10 months

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Spinning Taylor and Alec thoughts for a second:

As funny as it is to joke that Taylor doesn't pay attention to Alec early in Worm for comic reasons, I think another big thing with Alec is that Taylor doesn't view Alec as a problem the way she does the rest of the team.

Rachel: physical, but not emotional, threat. Clearly a liability to strategy. Rachel is a big interpersonal issue in the team Taylor is compelled to solve because Taylor fixes group dynamics due to obsessive need to make everyone work together. Arguably her highest immediate priority in practice even if she would tell herself that it's actually Lisa.

Brian: emotional danger, member of the Undersiders Taylor thinks she most admires for being so cool and controlled and put together (this goes to show you that Taylor is not immune to crush-based optical illusions).

Lisa: emotional and strategic danger. Undersider most likely to figure Taylor's shit out in the sense of her totally amazing, not wildly ill-conceived undercover infiltration and in the (much scarier to Taylor) sense that Lisa might Perceive Taylor, which would be an unbearable vulnerability. (Too late!!)

Alec: is actually relatively...fine, in the Taylor lens of perception. Some of his comments have weirded her out and he's not her favorite, but she finds his ambient shithead insults easy to shrug off compared to her bullying because she can tell they aren't malicious, he seems content to go along with plans and not cause problems, and she thinks his power is limited in application (and I'm sure to a degree subconsciously thinks that as the swarm queen, what would it matter if Alec messed with her human limbs?) He is her lowest priority concern.

As a result, she is completely missing numerous warning signs about what Alec's actual deal is. The way he behaves doesn't match Taylor's early threat detection system criteria. The extent to which she misreads things that should be all but screaming at her Watch Out is very well executed - and because this is close first person, it's also a narrative sleight of hand for us, the readers. If you're watching Alec closely and know what certain things look like, as trauma sequelae, you'll be feeling the hair on the back of your neck stand up. If you're looking at what Taylor is looking at, assuming Taylor's judgments are solid, though? You'll get the jump scare.

Very effective horror movie haunted doll writing.

#shrike rereads worm #alec vasil #taylor hebert #parahumans #worm spoilers

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chimivx · 11 months

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public occurrences. // myg.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader

summary: It's been almost a year since Vegas. As one would expect, life hasn't gotten any easier. If anything it's gotten even more chaotic. The world knows who you are now... There aren't anymore secrets to hide.

words: 6k

warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS. use of cuss words, they talk of anxiety, some mental health situations, talks about a miscarriage, talks about Jin and other members leaving. other than that- not much else. If I missed anything PLEASE let me know.

a/n: CAN'T BELIEVE ANOTHER VEGAS IS HERE. Enjoy my loves. Thank you for all the love and support always. <3 It's just a short little drabble of one specific moment of time, but I thought it was pretty important.

~ the end of february 2023 ~

A dull pain begins to erupt where you’ve had your jaw clenched for the last twenty minutes. A soreness in your jaw you’re not quite sure will ever be able to go away. For the past few months it’s found itself in this compromised position.

Your entire body is made of steel, your joints creaking as you attempt to pull yourself together amidst the panic ensuing within your nervous system. Limbs heavy to the point you aren’t sure whether or not you’ll be able to exit the vehicle.

Breathe in, breathe out. The words repeat.

Breath in, breathe out. It made you want to sing Hobi’s song. Inhale, inhale, exhale, exhaaale. But there was no time for fun. Not when you were about to walk outside in front of cameras for the first time in eight years.

The morning was spent in a blur, the attempts to perfect your hair and makeup happening at an hour too early, much like how you rolled out of bed. An hour too early. You were awake before your daughter even had the chance to stir.

Anxiety had been simmering beneath your skin for weeks. You could barely eat, the nausea would rip through you violently. Again, for the past few months that’s how life has been, nausea, anxiety, melancholy thoughts and dreams, however this event seemed to be adding twice as much. These past few days you’ve probably accumulated a total of nine hours of sleep. You had more shuteye the week after your daughter's birth.

There seemed to be a butterfly effect from the events in Vegas. The incident that caused countless meetings and endless discussions because the company just couldn’t handle anymore media control or protection. You should never have trusted that girl.

BigHit took their time, the company drug out the announcement as long as they could so it would surpass Jin’s deployment and your goddamn wedding. Now, with it being the end of February, Yoongi’s been traveling absolutely everywhere for basketball games, photoshoots, and he’s announced a tour… It was about to happen. For the very first time in eight years you were officially about to be on camera, branded by flashes, posted online permanently, forever going to be seen and known as Min Yoongi’s wife.

Next to you, Yoongi grips your knee tight, in hopes to settle your worries. Glancing down to his knobby hand you sigh and suck in a deep breath.

“We’ll be fine,” he said softly. Meeting his comforting gaze, you attempt to smile, one that makes him laugh. “I promise. Remember everything we talked about?”

You do. Of course you do. It’s been playing on repeat for one hundred and sixty eight hours.

That’s how many hours are in a week. You had to google that.

When this entire plan was set in place you requested a play by play, a step by step tutorial- a rehearsal even! You were walking out into the public eye with your child for the first time. People knew who you were now.

There were going to be cameras, and fans, and paparazzi, and loud noises, and people rushing you, and standards to follow. It was all too much, it all seemed to be entirely too much. You were going to have a toddler on your hip, one who could barely stand to be in a room full of people her father worked with let alone god knows how many strangers at an airport.

“What happens first?” Yoongi asked, reaching for one of your hands to tangle his fingers with yours. He could feel your panic. “Tell me the first thing we’re going to do.”

Gulping, you respond, “Park.” Looking up at his short hair that you’re livid with- his long hair was dreamy, and sexy, and you could pull it- you receive another laugh. He hadn’t expected you to be so literal.

“Good, we’ll park,” he praised. “And then what?” Tipping his chin down his eyes widened a bit, becoming all the more endearing.

“Then, Branson and his team get out,” you said, feeling a bit better looking into his eyes. Yoongi gives you a soft smile, dragging his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Has Branson ever let you down?”

“Never,” you whispered. Almost nine incident free years with the man, after Yoongi, you depended on.

Your husband leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Exactly,” he said. “What happens next?”

Going through the last three simple steps, everything seemed ready to go to plan. Once Branson was ready, you were going to take your daughter out of her carseat, exit the car, and follow the men inside. You would be the one to carry your daughter, just in case. People were unpredictable in these situations, and Yoongi agreed that if something were to happen to him here, you should be the one to carry her inside. As much as that little comment terrified you to hear him say, he was right.

Simple as pie. You hoped.

In a perfect world that’s how it would happen, and you want nothing more than for this to go smoothly.

People knew your name. Everyone has found out that it’s been years. The company was prepared for mass destruction, and so were you and Yoongi. A first public appearance, this is where it would all go to shit. There isn’t much chaos people can fully ensue over the internet.

As for your friends, the two of you personally asked them to stay out of it and at the drop of a hat they agreed. The five boys and Sunny shook on it. No one would say a word publicly, no one would do any interviews, no tweets, no Instagram posts, no stories pushed, no Weverse comments. Silence. Radio silence.

Jin has most definitely heard what has happened, and the next time you and Yoongi get to see him, there will be tea to spill. Your heart aches whenever you think about him, especially for Yoongi. He’s had to go through this madness and so much more without his best friend.

The week after he left was complete and utter hell for your family. And not just because of Jin.

Pushing aside all thoughts of having to redo the motions with Hobi very soon, you come to realize that steps one and two of the plan have already commenced.

The black SUV was parked in front of the airport, and Branson and his team were setting themselves up. Through the dark tinted windows there are crowds upon crowds of people, masses of them so large one would think the entire band was here. It reminded you of a concert, they were all waiting in groups with their phones out, pointing them at the vehicles that you and your team were in.

Slapping your hand on top of Yoongi's, you grip it tight, digging your nails into his palm. He places his other right on top of yours.

“I can’t do it,” you mumbled, whipping your head to shoot him a terrified look.

Yoongi smiles, though your fear threatens to crack him. If this wasn’t ordered by the company he’d whisk you away to safety, getting inside the airport without a soul knowing. He’s broken these rules before, going against what his company wants for your sake, it’s been eight years of you coming first, you topping all things that have to do with his job.

Now that the gig was up, now that people knew who you were and knew that it’s been forever, he feels as though he owes it to his fans to do a three minute appearance. As much as he was deeply in love with you, he loved his fans almost as much. He wanted to show you off, he wanted the world to see who’s been keeping him sane all this time, who’s been the source of his happiness for years.

“Yanno, the last time you told me that you seemed to handle everything just fine,” he said, glancing at your sleeping daughter beside you. Blowing a gust of air through your lips, you roll your eyes.

“I didn’t have to do any work, D, they cut her out of me,” you grilled back, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t-” your words are cut off by a sudden short breath. “I feel like I can’t breathe,” escapes you in a whisper.

Branson taps his fist on the window a couple of times gently, signaling that he was ready for the three of you to come out. The murmurs from the crowds can be heard, leaking through the cracks in the doors, swarming around you constricting your chest.

Yoongi slips an arm around your back, holding you against him tight. Burying your face into his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and takes a deep breath. You can feel his beating heart steady between his lungs. This was just another day for him. He’s had ten years to grow used to this.

“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he said softly. Peeking up at him, you frown.

“What?” you question, lowering your brows. He nods a couple of times, giving you a small smile.

“I was afraid this was going to happen, because I knew this was going to happen,” he said.

“Me freaking out, right?” you sighed, your tone completely breathless. A soft hum leaves his chest as he ponders what you’ve said, then he shakes his head. “What?” you question again with more vigor.

“Well,” he huffs a gentle laugh, “I figured something along the lines of that would happen, but only ‘cause of her,” he nods to your daughter, “Not because you’re scared of going out there. You’re only worried for her. If it were seven years ago you think you’d feel this way?”

Shaking your head to answer him, the electricity coursing through your veins seems to subside.

“Exactly,” he smirked. “Before her you were dancing in the streets before my shows, you were talking to people, my fans! You were prancing around stadiums and concerts like it was nothing.”

“I loved doing that,” you smiled.

“Fuck yeah, you loved doing that,” he said, giving you the smallest shake. “And, you know what? It’s not just you going out there as my wife, right? They know what you’ve done for us, they know what you’ve made for us.”

Your smile starts to grow. He was right. The fans, the people, they loved your work. The music videos, the art, the TinyTan, the creative concepts, the photoshoots, all of it. They finally knew that it was you. The ghost creator had been unveiled.

“You probably have fans of your own,” Yoongi said matter of factly. “I guarantee you all these people are here for you, not me.” Frowning humorously, you make him laugh.

“Doubt that,” you said flatly.

“Alright, half and half,” he winked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We can do this, you can do this. We’re doing it together, like we do everything. We’ll get through this together. We always do. Just think, next time we see Jin we have to tell him all about this, he’ll never believe it.”

Averting your eyes from his, your mind is suffocated by the many, many things you’re going to have to tell Jin when you’re with him again, which you’re hoping is soon. So much has happened, so much has changed, and it’d only been about three months.

“Yeah,” you whispered, flickering your eyes up to Yoongi who’s flashing you a curious look. “He probably still thinks I’m pregnant.”

A flash of discomfort wrecks his expression for all of two seconds as he glances away from you with a breath. Swallowing hard, he relaxes his face and looks back at you, his lips pressed together tight.

“He, uh,” he began in a whisper, “He... knows.” Before you have a chance to say anything, the subtle shock on your face telling him plenty, he cuts you off. “I’m sorry, baby. I had to tell him, it’s Jin, that’s my best friend, he’s the only one I could even say the words to.”

Sitting up a bit, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek, dragging your thumb over his smooth skin. “D, it’s okay,” you reassured him, bobbing your head. His lips form a pout, one that gets you to giggle. “I promise, it’s okay.”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, feelings swirling around the empty air as you both choose what to do or say next. Yoongi leans into you, kissing your forehead once more before placing his own there.

“You’re so incredible,” he said, watching you flutter your eyes shut. “The strongest woman I know, the most talented woman I know. On top of having such a beautiful, creative mind, you’re a fucking fantastic mother.” Yoongi pauses, taking a deep breath, as do you. “He was lucky to have you for as long as he did.”

A lump lodges in your throat. Scrunching your face, you shake your head, rubbing your forehead to his.

“Don’t make me cry,” you said, voice wavering with uncertainty.

“Cry?” a tiny voice speaks up from your right, a yawn of the same intensity coming out of her straight after. Popping your eyes open you share a small smile with your husband, and just as you’re about to turn to your little one, Yoongi slips a hand beneath your chin, holding you in place.

“Hey,” his voice is soothing. “I love you.” Your heart flutters.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, accepting the quick kiss he gives you.

Turning to the carseat that has secured a permanent spot in this car, you smile at your daughter who has her head turned toward you and her father. Her sleepy eyes entice a happy hum from you.

“You were supposed to sleep through this,” you said sarcastically sweet. Yoongi chuckles, unbuckling from his seat. The clang of the metal on the door makes your heart skip a beat.

“No,” your daughter said. “No sleep. All done.” Her voice is tiny, and slightly broken, and not hitting all of the right sounds, but her speech has only been improving. The two of you speak to her like she’s a human being, saving the baby voices for when she’s feeling silly, which can attest to her strong vocabulary and understanding of conversation.

You’re beginning to think she is a genius like her father.

“Mama, up,” she cooed, reaching out her arms that were finally starting to get a little chubby. Her cheeks had caught up to her as well, they were finally perfectly pinchable.

Freeing her from the car seats restraints, your daughter aids you in her escape, launching herself forward and up into your arms with a shout.

“Oh!” she giggles once her arms are around your neck and her face is buried in your hair.

“Oh!” you and Yoongi copy her, to which she responds with another shout.

Her attentive eyes point out the window when she sits herself up, tapping on your shoulder a couple of times with her palm. Lifting a hand, she tries to point at the crowds of people.

“Where?” she asked curiously, looking to either of her parents for an answer. Her voice turned you into a complete puddle, the sound coming out as ‘Wheh?’, the middle syllable is even more pronounced when she questions the two of you again.

Yoongi brings a hand to her forehead, brushing away a few dark hairs that fell into her eyes. The girl hated bows, you stopped trying.

“We’re at the airport,” he told her, and she listened with all of her might. “We’re going on a plane, isn’t that fun? You like flying.” Her eyes blink a few times, taking her time to process the words.

Sighing aloud, dramatically of course, she glances out the window and mumbles a jumble of sounds. Following her gaze, you gulp.

Eager eyes of bystanders attempted to shatter the glass of the tinted windows.

“Mama,” your daughter said, looking at you. “Go, Mama,” she bounced once. “Go,” she bounced twice. You knew the moment you stepped out into the noise and the flashing lights that she would have a meltdown, but you admired her desire to get out of the car. Yoongi was right, she loved flying, it was her second favorite thing right now. Securely at number one was Jungkook, for a year and seven months. That spot was unattainable for anyone else.

“Shall we?” Yoongi offered, watching you fiercely, letting you take the lead. He waited patiently for your answer, heaving a sigh of relief when you finally gave him a tentative nod of your head.

“Dada, go,” your daughter babbled. “Mama, go. Dada, go. Mama, go.”

Sharing a laugh with Yoongi, you take a long deep breath and tighten your grip around her back, holding her in front of your chest. Smiling at you, your baby touched a hand to your cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered to her. She leans her head toward you and puts her nose on yours.

“Ah-luh-oo,” she tried her best to repeat. Stealing a kiss from her, you let Yoongi press a thousand to her cheek to make her giggle, and then it’s time.

Everything seems to move in slow motion, your vision tunneling as your husband opens the car door. Pulling a mask over his face, he sends you a reassuring wink before he rounds the vehicle.

Screams erupt from every corner of the space, and shouting from the team can already be heard. Strict shouting, like things were getting crazy already. Your daughter’s eyes are wide as she looks out the windows and up at you. Her curiosity has been swapped for a little bit of fear.

You couldn’t let her see you panic.

Sliding off of the leather seat and onto the concrete of the airport lot, you pull a mask over your own face and instantly slip a hand to the back of your baby's head. Her legs were wrapped around your torso, and the moment you stepped outside her arms clung around your neck for safety. You already had a suspicion that you weren’t going to have to actively try to hide her face, she would want to do that herself.

Your bags were already taken care of, there wasn’t anything else you needed to grab from the car other than your child and yourself. Everything else would be taken care of for you.

With another deep, dramatic breath, you hold your daughter close, allowing her to bury her face into your neck, and you circle the car like Yoongi had. Upon rounding the back, cameras that were already flashing began to flash faster, quicker. Wide eyed and stunned by the greeting of screams, you barely have time to process anything before Branson grabs your arm.

It’s a gentle tug, one to help keep you on track. He pulls you close to him, staying one step ahead of you as you wait for a couple of seconds in front of the car. Glancing amongst the crowd, it’s mainly full of paparazzi and probably some journalists. Behind the tall men and their cameras you can see the fans, the ones holding up their phones and jumping up and down trying to catch a glimpse at the commotion.

Airport security guards held some people back, though no one seemed to be trying to push through excessively, which was your main fear.

“Another minute here,” Branson said to you, leaning into your ear. “They need photos, then we go.” Nodding, you peek down at your girl who was content clinging to her mother and hiding from the chaos. A sound of admiration rips through the crowd as you stroke her back, one that surprises you.

Up ahead, close to the doors, Yoongi was walking backward slowly, watching you. His fans twisted their heads side to side, from him, to you, and back again. To spice things up a bit, he gives you a wave, and everyone goes nuts.

You can’t help but laugh at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. For some reason you had thought he’d treat you differently when you were outside, but aside from following the rules, he was still your husband. He points to the baby on your chest and questions you with a thumbs up. Another giant ‘Awh!’ rolls through the chattering crowd.

Sending a thumbs up back, the fans laugh, and cheer. Then, your heart plummets to your stomach.

From somewhere within the crowd your name is shouted. And then again. Before you knew it, the entire crowd wanted your attention. Overwhelmed, feeling utterly insane, your eyes well up with tears. You're unable to make out anything else they’re saying though, there were too many people talking at once, and to you, that was a good thing.

God forbid anybody had anything bad to say. You’ve heard it before, but you don’t need to live it in real time.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. Branson leans into you again, questioning what you’ve said. Turning to him, you smile and repeat, “Holy shit!”

“You’re okay?” he asked, gently putting a hand over your shoulder blade.

“I- I think so?” you said to him, raising your voice over the crowd that was only getting louder. Glancing down to your daughter who’s little fists were attempting to rip holes in your sweater, you send a look to Yoongi, and he stops walking all together. Bundled up in the safety of her mothers arms wasn’t enough for the baby, she needed to be out of this situation immediately. “Branson we have to go.”

“I don’t have the signal yet, we need Yoongi inside before we move forward,” he said. Frowning, you knew the man was just doing his job, but a cry from your daughter flipped a switch within you.

“We need to go,” you insisted, shooting him a glare. Cradling the back of her head, you press your masked lips to her hair and take a deep breath, hoping she’d feel as much of your love as possible.

“Go! Get him inside,” Branson spoke into the tiny walkie he carried on his chest, gesturing toward the door with persistence.

The crowd, now roaring, and growing larger, began to push. The barriers that were blocked by guards were spilling over the edge.

Branson placed a hand to the top of your shoulder and held onto you tight. Grabbing the little speaker, he spoke clearer. “We need to move forward, and we cannot do that if you cannot get him indoors.”

Up ahead your husband was watching you with a heated gaze. His attention didn’t deter from you once. His heart twisted when you cradled your daughter, when he saw Branson begin to get defensive. The hand that was placed protectively on your shoulder could make him scream, and the team behind him, calling after him to get him to step inside the airport made his thoughts fuzzy.

What the hell was he doing? Why would he ever allow the two of you, the most important people in his life, why would he allow you to do it alone? This was the very first time you’ve done this, and he’s realized now that he’s made the biggest mistake.

Forgetting everything he was told, everything he’s learned, Yoongi bounds toward you, using the fast paced walk that his fans clown him for. They absolutely lose their minds, the people around you.

Wide eyed and shocked, you’d never think he’d break the rules on this one, you sigh in relief when he reaches your side. An arm wraps around your shoulder, Yoongi closing you in front of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you asked, giving your head a small shake.

Your husband smiles, reaching up to pull his mask off of his face, removing yours as well.

“Not letting you do it alone,” he said to you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. As you could’ve guessed, the collective lost their minds.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you smiled up at him, laughing as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

“You two are always worth it,” he said. “Now, c’mon,” he stepped aside to hold you behind your back, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. Using his other hand he rubbed the baby’s back and gave her cheek a quick kiss, happy to find that once he joined you two she had calmed down. “Let’s go see Kookie.”

Her head shot right up with enormous dark eyes full of stars. “Koo-hee?!”

“Koo-hee!” Both you and Yoongi copy her tiny voice, making her giggle with the silly smiles you flash at her.

The world around you seemed to melt away the second you were in your husband's arms, like all of a sudden you had the strength to handle anything the world would have thrown at you. His grip around your body as he walked with you into the airport was enough to silence the crowd, and power your legs to get through the doors without an incident.

A mere twenty minutes later, the three of you were seated on the plane, your daughter snoozing soundly on her fathers chest while you scrolled through your phone, curious to see what the internet has had to say of your appearance already. Resting his head on your shoulder, Yoongi followed along, making a sweet comment at every single photo of you.

“Oh, that one is the best,” he said quietly, your Twitter scroll stopping on a picture of the three of you before you walked off. The big, genuine, happy smiles you and Yoongi wore were priceless as you grinned at your baby girl, one whose face didn’t make it into any photos- thank the good Lord that somebody believes in. “You should post that one.”

Giving him a sideways glance, you huff a gentle laugh. “To my Instagram? It’s just gone public, you want me to blow it up even more?”

Yoongi tips his chin up, flashing you pouty puppy dog eyes. “I just want them all to know you’re mine. Both of you. I want everyone to know I’m yours, and I always have been.” You gave his forehead a kiss.

“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll post it. Her face isn’t in any of these, so I can post as many as I want.”

Settling comfortably on your shoulder once again, Yoongi gave you caption advice for the post- an emoji that seemingly had nothing to do with the photo… But, you used it anyway. The angel emoji, with a halo and little wings.

“That one’s perfect,” he whispered, tapping on it for you.

“If you say so,” you smiled. Yoongi sat up a bit, carefully to not disturb his sleeping daughter. “You always pick the random ones.”

“Every single one I use means something,” Yoongi gazed at you fiercely. “That little guy,” he pointed to the angel, “That makes four of us.”

Your lips parted in surprise, unsure of what to say. That week in December devastated you both. Your stomach flips while you watch him study your face. The whirlwind life you live hasn’t given either of you proper time to process, or grieve.

“Baby,” he whispered, closing the space between you to touch his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to post it if you don’t want to.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your eyes welling with tears, you furrow your brows. “What did I do wrong,” escaped you in an exasperated gust of air. Yoongi shifted, wrapping an arm around your back.

“No,” he said, putting on his strong facade. “We don’t do that, we’ve talked about this. You know there wasn’t anything you did wrong. There wasn’t anything I did wrong. You heard the doctor say it, baby, multiple times. You gave him the perfect home, you’re healthy.” Yoongi paused to gauge where you were, praying that you were listening to him.

You respond after a few seconds, bobbing your head. Taking a deep breath, Yoongi swallows down the lump in his throat.

“It just wasn’t his time,” he whispered. “He wasn’t ready.”

“Yeah,” you whispered fast. Yoongi’s thumb found your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“And, you remember the last time we were there, they said we could try again whenever we were ready,” he said. The end of last month you had a check-up with your doctor, just to make sure things were back to normal, and that your body was holding up alright. Your second pregnancy was a surprise, much like the first, you and Yoongi haven’t seemed to learn your lesson. However, losing your son before you had even gotten the chance to hold him in your arms put a lot of things into perspective for the two of you.

There were routine check-ups, you were eating better- both of you! This second child was something that you and your husband both wanted, and though each of your emotions have been through the wringer… You would be willing to try again when you felt like you could handle it.

“I want to,” you whispered. Yoongi smiled, but you could see his own worries within it. “I know, I feel the same way.”

“Together,” he cuts off the nervousness quickly. “We’ll do it together.”

“Uh, we kinda have to,” you giggled, making him laugh.

“I can’t wait,” he sing-songed through clenched teeth with a grin, stealing a kiss from you. Yoongi backs away from you to check on your sleeping daughter who hasn’t made a peep. He was surprised she had let her eyes shut while she was beside the window, normally she’d be gazing out at the clouds passing by.

Picking your phone up off of your lap, you smile at the angel emoji and click post, letting the notifications flood in like wildfire. This was all brand new. You were allowed to make your Instagram public about a week ago, and since then you’ve reached four million followers, while you used to have forty-six. Silencing the notifications from the app, every photo you’ve ever posted amassed an incredible amount of likes. Your feed was a feast, and the public was hungry.

Four million followers and counting. The number was only going to get bigger.

Watching the photo gain twenty thousand likes whenever you refreshed the page, you nudged Yoongi’s shoulder to show him what was happening, and when he turned his head to look, an unknown number you’ve never seen before popped onto your screen, calling you.

“What the…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes.

Yoongi snatched the phone from your hand and quickly snapped a photo of the screen with his own, then he silenced yours and went into it, blocking the number who tried to reach you. He called Branson over and showed him the photo, letting the head of security take his phone with him.

“Trace this, or, do something. Tell me who's number this is,” his voice is stern, on alert.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you said, laying your head down on his shoulder. “People get scam calls all the time.”

“Not us,” he said, tone flat.

Not even ten minutes passed before Branson came back, kneeling on the row of chairs in front of your family. He placed his elbows on the head rests and took a deep breath, darting his eyes back and forth from Yoongi to yours.

“Well?” Yoongi asked. Branson handed him his phone and frowned.

“Uh,” he stumbled over a few words, unsure of how to say what he needed to say. “We, um… The phone number belongs to your mother.” His voice is hushed, quiet, like he was afraid to tell you, when in actuality he was afraid to tell Yoongi. Touchy subject. Especially now.

There had been a restraining order set in place since the day after your daughter's first birthday. Yoongi held the meetings and took care of everything, all you had to do was sign.

Neither one of your parents were allowed to contact you, speak to you or your daughter, or try to see you in person. They were not allowed to mail anything to you, send anyone to see you in place of themselves, nor were they allowed to be in touch with anyone close to you. Sunny included. You had to make a list.

Expecting him to jump out of his seat, you stretch a hand over his lap and grab his other hand, the one on your daughter's back. Sitting up, you turn toward him ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. It had not faltered. He was stone faced, and you were sick to your stomach.

“Sue her,” he said. Turning to you, he sighed. “We’re changing your number again.”

“D, come on, it’s not like-”

“I don’t care,” he said, peering down to admire his daughter. “She clearly hasn’t gotten the message that you don’t want anything to do with her.” He pointed his focus back to Branson. “Fight it. Do what you can.”

“Got it,” the guard said, and whisked himself away.

It’s quiet for a moment before Yoongi said, “Why are you defending her?”

“I’m not defending her,” you said, and he raised a brow, giving you a funny look. “It’s just… Super annoying to give everyone a new phone number for the third time.” Both your lips turn up into a smile. “Sue the bitch, I don’t care, D.” Yoongi laughs. “Just don’t make me change my number again, I beg of you.”

“Alright,” he said. “No new number. BUT!” His raised volume made your daughter stir. “One more thing happens, you’re changing it.” The little one lifted her head, blinking a few times before she grinned at her father.

“Fine,” you whispered, not that he was paying attention anymore anyway. Your daughter took his full focus, and all of his kisses.

It seemed silly to just now realize that today was something of a confirmation of the last eight years. Living your life, being a secret to millions of others, while you and the people you cared most about knew, was nice, and secure, and peaceful. But, now… Now that everyone knew, the peace grew. It swallowed you whole, engulfing you and your family with stability and ease.

No more accidental reveals. No more false stories. No more rumors the company had to shut down. No more hiding.

You were absolutely free, and for now, that was everything.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece!

feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.

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vegas tags <3 (i realize on the last post i missed some of you, i'm so sorry.) <3

@jewelrnicorn @yoongisducky @all-american-fangirl @funkylittlebisexuall @ahewlett @damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place

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moonys-love · 1 year

Text

Howdy Pillar Headcanons :D

be aware this is my first time writing on tumblr so if its a tad odd in some places, i apologize :))) i should be doing my math work i missed or sleeping but guess what i wont

cw: staring mentions (?), howdy being cheesy, i think that's it? ( i do not know how to tag stories)

(look at the funky man!!)

Dating Howdy!!

i just KNOW this man loves to give hugs from behind

everytime you're doing literally anything that has you with your back exposed, he's going to pick you up

you could be in the middle of cleaning and next thing you know four limbs are wrapped around you and you're being picked up

he is both big spoon and little spoon, ignore the fact that he's like 7 foot/213 cm

if you don't like being hugged/touched, that's fine! he likes to make sure that you're comfortable with how he shows affection.

instead of hugging you, he tends to move things around to make it more accessible for you (especially if you enjoy cooking/baking, there are a lot of things in the howdy-sized cabinets but not the y/n-sized cabinets)

sometimes he does purposefully move things out of your reach to have you call him over for help so he can come bother you >:)

that is until you learned that you can climb on the counters... (as someone who is short, this is in fact the most effective way of getting things [dont do this])

he loves holding hands with you! regardless of whether you're in public or at home, he enjoys making sure that you don't get lost /j ("Its hard to see you all the way down there, neighbor!")

he is also a big fan of pinky holding <3

i hc him to have some anxiety issues, so this is a big reason why he enjoys holding hands/pinkys

it's become a big way to help him calm down, and if you start rubbing shapes (?) into his hand it makes things a lot better (he does it to you too <3)

after a long day at the bugdega (bodega? I've seen someone call it that so I'm calling it that bc it's funky!), he will fwump literally anywhere it is convenient for him to do so

let's just hope you're not on the couch/bed because you are a candidate for him to do so! (good luck)

he constantly is making sure that you're ok, mentally and physically! he is a great listener, and he gives great advice too.

everytime you try to help him out at the bugdega, he CANNOT focus

he will literally stare at you for ages until either you or a neighbor points out he's doing so ("howdy, are you ok?" "huh- oh yeah! it's just that you're really pretty...")

he also gives you an 100% discount if you agree to a kiss

either he's really cheesy, or he's reciting poetry to you, there is in fact, no in-between

"i love you berry much! *holds out a strawberry*"

"If i was to be given the option of eternal life, i would turn it down, for a life without you is not one worth living."

all in all, your relationship is berry sweet!! (help i regret writing that)

Being friends with Howdy!!

if YOU have chaotic energy, HE has chaotic energy

he could be cheerfully having an exchange with julie to chanting "thief" to wally in the corner with you (art idea??? might make this)

howdy is great at adapting to your current mood! if you're being funky and all gremlin-like, so is he! if you're tired or sad, he makes sure to give you your time and space to talk if you want!

regardless of this, he does give mother-friend energy

not in the sense of like making sure you're sunscreened, but just looking out for you and making sure you're ok :O)

he LOVES to spook you. regardless of how tall he is, he is in fact, great at sneaking around!

he is also good at being quiet on his feet, which does not end well when you're in the middle of doing something

i feel like he is genuinely a sweet guy, but when he's with friends, he's a totally different caterpillar

if tiktok existed then, you would constantly point at him and say "caterpillar" in that voice (y'know the one from the audio that everyone draws frank spying on howdy with [i absolutely love that audio])

HE KNOWS ALL OF THE GOSSIP OOH JUST YOU WAIT

"did you hear? frank and eddie are finally dating!" "HAH WALLY OWES ME HIS APPLE SUPPLY"

wally is definitely a part of your guy's shenanigans btw it's canon I'm howdys hat

if howdy needs something delivered (most likely wallys hairspray/apples) and eddie isn't available, he asks you! you're practically a second employee so you might as well ahshefs

you still get an 100% discount, since you know, you're kinda working there so that's fabulous!!

he's practically your babysitter at this point i just kinda imagine y/n being one of the leash kids

he can and will throw you on top of his shoulders, you think he's not buff under those sleeves? he has to carry around literal HUNDREDS of apples for wally pretty much everyday

i feel like he likes making things with his hands (I'm really projecting here arent i)

HE LIKES MAKING TINY THINGS OK OK GLAD WE CAN AGREE

random little figurines or things you enjoy will just appear. you have little to no clue where they came from but that's fineee

he knows some of the most obscure things, either about you, or anything really

he loves hearing people infodump about anything! he loves learning new things about people's special interests :D

at the end of the day, he appreciates being your friend so much! he's so glad he got to meet you <3

i am very tired so im probably going to sleep now!! i really liked making this but headcanons are not, in fact, my strong suit. requests are open, i would love to write some more for welcome home!!

#moony writes!!#im incredibly tired but i really wanted to get this out so here it is!#howdy is a funky little guy <3 #howdy #howdy pillar #howdy pillar x reader #howdy pillar headcanons #welcome home #welcome home show #welcome home puppets #welcome home puppet show #tumblr #writer #writers on tumblr

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luveline · 2 years

Note

hi babe!! can i request just more boyfriend steve LOL i don't have a specific scenario

you and Steve move in together! ♡ fem!reader | 1k words

You lie on your back in your new apartment with the top of your head touching Steve's. The ceiling is a sad cigarette yellow and meagre light seeps into the room through old venetian shutters. You sneeze for the third time in as many minutes and Steve laughs and lolls his head to the side to look at you with pity.

"I'll vacuum," he says, starting to sit up.

"No no no," you protest, grasping at his bicep. "We need a break. You need one. You lifted what must've been a thousand boxes."

"Maybe not that many."

"It's-" you sneeze, Steve winces. "It's fine, Stevie."

"Stevie," he repeats, almost to himself.

He reaches for your hand and smiles at you, his canine teeth making a brief appearance.

"I'm so happy," he says.

You feel the same. It surprises you to hear Steve say it aloud – he's an honest guy and a total sweetheart, but he's not usually so forthcoming with positive emotion. Negative, sure.

"Me too," you say, forcing your fingers further through his, squishing his knuckles with the force of it. You turn your face to his and wait for a kiss that you don't get.

He's staring at you like he's never seen you before.

"What?" you ask, a fond whisper.

He lifts onto his side just enough to bring his hand to your face. His silence is at once unnerving and adoring, his face fierce but giving away little else. It's hard to describe but you feel more than pretty when he touches you like this. His thumb, his fingertips smooth over your cheek carefully, touch soft as a downy feather. His caressing gives you the same pit in your tummy that his compliments do. A warmth.

Steve turns his hand. His knuckles rub down your cheek until they find your jaw.

He moves his hand back and forth and soon you're melted, raising your chin slowly.

"I'm happier," you declare.

A flicker of confusion passes over his face. When he realises what you mean he gets mad. "Are you kidding? You think you're happier? I didn't even realise people could get this happy. I'm like, glowing."

The sun sets, an orange haze descending over all of Hawkins and somehow finding its way into your drab little apartment in the middle of town.

"Like the sun," you agree. You attempt a joking tone like his own and miss by a mile.

The light from the window kisses him and sets his hair aflame, a halo around his head as he leans over you.

The moment is disrupted by a telling tickle at the back of your nose. You scrunch up your face and move away from his touch, worried you'll spray all over him.

"That's it, I'm vacuuming," he says as you sneeze.

"No!" you protest, sniffling and wiping your nose with your sleeve. "Please don't."

"You're gonna get sick."

"No Steve, I'm not. I just need one thing and I'll be all better," you start coyly.

He rolls his eyes. "I can guess what you need."

"Yeah?"

"'Stevie, are you busy?'" He imitates your voice far from unkindly, a lilting, light murmur. "'Can I have a cuddle, please?'"

He starts to laugh before he's finished and you giggle thickly, pleased as punch when he finally dips down to kiss you. His smile slides over yours. Chaste, sweet.

"Yes," he says into your lips, "you can have a hug."

"I didn't ask for one."

"So you don't want one?"

You raise your arms and sew them under his, the corded muscle of his biceps shifting as he wraps you up. He hugs you tight and kind and practically vibrating with happiness.

You sit up and climb onto your knees, restless, desperate to get closer. You're a muddle of limbs and loose moving clothes. Your hand gets caught in the hem of his shirt and his fingers slip into the pocket of your sweatpants but it all works out and you end up exactly where you wanted to be, snug in his lap.

"Always get what you want, huh?" Steve asks, lips skipping over your forehead.

You nestle your face down into the juncture of his neck to hide your guilty smile. "Nah."

"No?" he asks.

His hand creeps to your waist and slips under the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze tiny, firm circles into the flesh of your hip.

"No 'cos- because I wanted the thick duvet and we had to get a summer one."

"Because it's summer!"

"It's not as cozy."

Steve pulls his head back to give you what can only be described as a patronising smile. You scowl at him and have just opened your mouth when he interrupts.

"Listen, I wanted the thick one too. I did. But it's summer, and it's like, eighty degrees outside all the time and still seventy at night, and you like to cuddle." He emphasises his last few words with a pointed insistence though he doesn't stop smiling for a second.

"You're a total facehugger," he continues.

You giggle wildly, breathless with outrage. "How dare you."

"Deny it, then. Or better yet, don't cling to me tonight. Prove your point."

You can play this game, too. "That's really what you want? First night in our first home together and you want to sleep on the couch?"

"We don't have a couch."

"The ground?" you ask, incredulous.

He pulls you close until your chests are crushed together and your faces are a half-inch apart, his held to the side as he takes you in again with that same intensity from before.

"I'm not sleeping on the ground. It's kind of gross, for starters. And my arms aren't long enough to do this from the floor," he says, rubbing the curve of your back with both hands. You let yourself go limp, let your face fall to his shoulder.

"I'm happier than you," you say.

"No, you're not."

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things x you

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dawnagustd · 1 year

Text

keeps || jjk

⇝ author’s note: I’m shamelessly late but I couldn’t get this to post. Yeah, Jungkook’s live broke me and I had to write them. I hope you’ll still accept it since I’m like 3 hours late lol.

masterlist | permanent taglist form

follow the story: hours (main story) | the unholy drabble | nails drabble

11:21am You: Someone left this in my car. I wonder who it belongs to...

Jungkook laughs as he looks at the picture on his phone. It’s been almost two months, and you’re only just finding the beanie he may have or have not left beneath your backseat. Memories of the day it was tucked into the crevice replay in his mind.

“I couldn’t wait.”

He murmurs those words as his lips crash against yours.

You wrap your limbs around him in a needy embrace, drawing groans from his throat. He’s just happy you’re as excited to see him as he is to see you. Sure, it’s only been two days, but what can he say?

You’re addicting.

“Should we really do it here?” Your moans grow slightly louder when his hands start to explore your body over your clothes. “What if my coworkers come back from lunch early?”

Jungkook lifts his head momentarily to scan the parking garage. Besides a few vehicles closer to the elevator, this floor is mostly empty.

“We’re good. I’ll be quick. Promise.”

Returning his attention to you, he buries his face within the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as if it’ll be the only thing getting him by until the next time he sees you—and it will be.

“Fuck. I miss you, Jungkook,” you utter and he almost hops in the driver’s seat and takes you back to his place.

“I miss you too, love. That’s why I’m here.”

Don’t get him wrong. He’s happy you got a promotion but he can’t help but be selfish and wish you were able to come over as much as you used to. It’s not your fault at all, but he hopes you aren’t using work as an excuse for space. He’d totally get it if you just wanted him to back off a little. He can’t help how he feels about you, but he does care enough to value your boundaries.

As the heat begins to warm your bodies, clothing begins to shed. First your jackets, then anything extra that’s preventing you from accessing your most intimate parts. He gets rid of your pants first and then pulls down his jeans. He could care less about who has a view of his toned ass. He’s only here to give you what he knows you need.

“Let me have a little taste, okay?”

“Jungkook.”

“Please, just a little,” he pleads.

His doe eyes always make it hard for you to resist. Especially when it’s something you secretly want yourself.

“Fine. But hurry!”

Jungkook doesn’t waste a second. He peels your panties away from your center and gasps as he watches the strings of arousal stretch and snap. He can’t help but tease you while he dips his finger in to scoop some of it up.

“Always a fucking mess,” he whispers.

“Don’t you start.”

Your words come out shaky, the neediness in your tone revealing how sexually frustrated you are. He’s not going to make you wait for it any longer.

He dives in, tasting your pussy and moaning like it’s a delicacy. Slurping and smacking noises fill his ears as he feasts. He’s in heaven, but reluctantly he has to pull away.

You whimper in disappointment at the loss, but he shushes you.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

He digs in his back pocket until he finds the condom he stashed in there in preparation for this moment. Your impatience has your hips lifting off the seat, bumping into his crotch. Your nails dig into his flesh when your pussy finally feels his cock waiting to slide into your entrance.

“Say my name if it feels good.”

Slowly sliding in, he can feel your walls expanding to let him in, but they grasp him like a vice when he bottoms out. His arms are trembling as he struggles to hover over you. However, when you pull him on top of you, he doesn’t resist. You moan his name into his ear like he asked you, and he’s never heard anyone say it so beautifully.

“Jungkook, I–”

You stutter, struggling to express how much you’re enjoying him buried in your guts.

“Feel good?” he asks, and you nod your head. “Want some more?”

You nod instantly, begging him to satisfy your cravings.

“Please… I just want you to fuck me.”

Your whining brings a smile to Jungkook’s face.

“I think I can do that.”

Your small SUV starts to rock as soon as he starts thrusting. The music playing through the stereo sets the tone, fueling his determination to ruin you in broad daylisght. He really didn’t think this through. There’s more room in his truck, but Jungkook didn’t have a second to spare. He’s on his lunch break too so this has to be quick so he can make it back to work in time.

Your moans become a little too loud so he leans in and conceals them with a kiss. It’s a gentle gesture, but it only makes you want more. As if he can get any closer, you tug on his strands to bring him closer, pushing his black beanie off of his head in the process. It falls on the car’s floor and becomes another random item tucked underneath your seat. Maybe one day you’ll need it, maybe you won’t. Who cares? It’s yours now; he’s forgotten about it.

He only has one thing on his mind.

“Hug me, baby.”

You never hesitate to do anything he asks, so your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms envelop him in your embrace. He can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. Your walls are snug around his dick, but the grip only brings pleasure. It won’t be long now. He suddenly remembers the timer on his phone and he looks at the floor to see where he is on time.

Five minutes. He only needs three.

He shifts to a slightly different angle to hit the spot he knows will take you to your highest peak. He doesn’t even care if someone can hear you at this point. He’s just focused on making you feel good.

“Fuck. Jungkook, I have to–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t worry about me. I’m right behind you.”

Jungkook can feel you clenching around him, bracing yourself for what you both know is coming. His back burns from the way your nails are piercing through his t-shirt, but he refuses to lose the momentum he’s created.

When your words start to make no sense and your eyes roll back is when he knows you’re coming undone. You cry his name as your cunt pulses around his stiffened cock. He can barely thrust properly because you’ve gotten so tight around him. He bites the sleeve of his shirt as he tries desperately to hold on until you’re satisfied.

The moment finally comes when you let out a relieved sigh, your body relaxing. Jungkook comes seconds later, allowing the tightened coil in his stomach to finally snap. He shudders above you while you stroke his hair, telling him how good he feels. He’d tell you how good you’re making him feel right now if he could form any thoughts. His cum spills inside the condom while he’s buried deep within you.

Jungkook gives himself 30 seconds to calm his heart rate but then jumps into action. He slips out of you and grabs some wipes out of your center console. He didn’t even have to ask you where to find anything to clean you up; something told him you’re just always prepared.

“Did you really miss me?”

He hears your small voice break the silence and he turns to your exhausted figure.

“Yeah, why do you think I’m here?”

“Pussy,” you snort.

Jungkook laughs.

“Alright, true. But that was after I saw you.”

He steals a kiss from your cheek while you’re slipping your pants on, making you squirm away and giggle. He’s never been so hooked on someone. Just seeing you smile is enough for him.

“I have to go if I’m going to be on time but come to my truck. I brought you some lunch,” he says, looking around to make sure he picked up his mess. Really he’s trying to spend every moment he can with you. Who knows how long you’ll avoid him this time.

“I think about you, you know.”

Jungkook pauses as he opens the door and turns to you. He nods.

“I sure hope so,” he replies. “Because you’re always on my mind.”

Before he can get caught up in your beautiful smile, he hops out and reaches for your hand.

“Come on. I gotta get going.”

“My car smells like you. I don’t wanna leave,” you pout.

Jungkook sighs and strokes your hand with his thumb. “Just come over later, alright? Just for a little while, kay?”

Excitement fills him up when you nod. He’d jump for joy if he didn’t know you’d tease him.

“Okay. I’ll come.”

But you never came. It was another week and a half before he saw you again.

He’s held your hand many times during sex, but this felt so different. He still remembers the electricity racing through his veins from the bit of contact. That’s why his smile keeps growing despite how unsure he’s feeling about this whole relationship.

11:22am You: So… You want it back? Gonna have to take it;)

11:22am Jungkook: I don’t want any smoke with you, love. It’s yours.

He wonders if you’ll wear it or just toss it somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He just wants you to have it for reasons he isn’t even sure of.

11:23am You: Smells like you. Yup, she’s a keeper.

Jungkook scoffs.

“So are you, love,” he whispers.

He just hopes you even want to be.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfics #jungkook fanfics #thekpopuniverse #btshoneyhive #kvanity #bangtansorciere #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #fic: hours #fic: keeps #sugakookitty

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pedge-stuff · 8 months

Note

I just had the worst and saddest possible day ever and all I wished was someone here, just to hug me under my cold covers. Can you please make something up with pedro and reader please?

I'm so sorry you are going through this?? I hope things have improved since you submitted this. Sending love your way.

—————————————————————————

okay (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual.

a little, plotless shorty for your troubles.

thanks, as always, for everything.

TW: a very brief mention of disordered eating

summary: sometimes, you just need to be held.

—————————————————————————

"I'm okay," you whisper. "It's okay, really. I just need a little bit."

Less than convincing.

There is a dip in the mattress behind you. Even with your eyes closed, covers pulled over your head, turned away from him entirely, you can tell he is settling against the headboard, atop the duvet.

Pedro doesn't speak. Doesn't touch you, either, but you're not really sure if you're grateful for that; sometimes, being touched when you're like this feels so intolerable, it takes your breath away. Other times, a soft touch feels like the only thing that can hold you together. Trial and error, involving a lot of shitty and unfair antagonisms, has taught Pedro to give you space before he gives you love.

This is why you suck, your brain supplies. Nothing more— your mind is too fucking tired to even dissect your insecurities properly. You just feel bad.

Not without reason; at least, not today. Three missed calls from your mother, with whom you are barely speaking to, anyways. (It turns out being engaged to Oberyn Martell is about the only thing that could cure her passive aggressive homophobia. A bit too late to be water under the bridge, at any rate.)

Three missed calls, and some really shit news.

So, you're in bed. Under the covers, hiding, as if 8:30 is a totally normal bedtime.

And things are decidedly not good.

The tears come, silent and steady.

A warm press of lips to the back of your neck startles you; hot puffs of breath where his nose is buries into the hair curled at your nape, just a moment, before pulling back. It does not feel as bad as you'd feared.

"Sorry," you croak, blindly reaching behind you; squeeze what feels like his knee, in what you hope is a marginally reassuring gesture. "I'm fine, baby, you don't have to sit here with me." Pedro is early to bed— neither of you are really night owls— but not this early.

He makes no effort to move. "Can I..." A tentative hand, between your shoulder blades.

You can't help the thin whine that accompanies your shaky exhale. Fucking pathetic. But you turn, slowly, rolling over to face him. You'd assumed he was up against the headboard, but he's shifted down now, head on the pillow beside you.

Smiling, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Wordlessly, he tucks an arm over your waist. He's always been strong, biceps as thick and sturdy as tree limbs, but the Gladiator training has added a layer of muscle just about everywhere. (Including his stomach. Abs are slowly stealing the small belly there, and while you're proud of the work he's putting in, you secretly miss the softness.)

"I don't know what you're thinking," Pedro whispers, mouth brushing against the top of your head. "But I'm so sorry, honey." He rubs the length of your spine, brow furrowing at the feeling of unfamiliar protrusions. Stress and an irregular schedule has sent good eating habits by the wayside; your body is shrinking, while his grows.

It's been the shittiest fucking month. He's been gone, you've been busy, and neither of you have gotten enough of the other. Back in New York three days now, but this is the first night you've been able to stay in together— and, of course, you've ruined it.

"Just happy to be with you," Pedro says, as if reading your mind. "Maybe this strike'll last forever, and I'll never need to go back to Morocco. Sorry, Paul Mescal."

You laugh, despite yourself, thick with tears. "I'm gonna miss the fan selfies, I think. What're they calling you? Pee-paw?"

Pedro groans, punishing you by pulling you tighter against him. Your face is squashed against his chest. Not a hardship. He smells clean, spiced. Familiar. Comfortably, and safe.

"You're engaged to the oldest man on the internet," he laments. "In Twitter years, I'm dead."

The squished hug is short-lived, breaking as he rolls back, gently, to get a better look at you. Cups your face, puffy and wet and gross; brushes twin thumbs over your cheeks, with a fond smile.

"There you are," Pedro whispers.

"I'm okay." Another sniff, but the threat of tears seems to have subsided. Today was shit, but it's over now; you're here, together, with nothing but time and sleep ahead of you.

"It's okay that you're not, sweetheart."

But you are. You're with him.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #din djarin #javier pena #javier pena x reader #din djarin x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the mandolorian #narcos

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yuesya · 8 months

Note

What would happen if Twins!Satoru and Canon!Satoru bodyswapped? As in just him, without Shiki attached. How would Twins!Satoru react to suddenly not sharing a body with Shiki and being in a totally bonkers universe where Suguru is DEAD, Shiki just plain doesn't seem to exist, and everything seems worse? And Canon!Satoru having to readjust to bodysharing with Shiki, who apparently is his murdered twin sister(!!?), and seeing an alive and not genocidal Suguru, would be so interesting.

Warnings: Description of body horror.

The day starts like any other.

Bright sun, white clouds. Suguru glances out the window, and makes a mental note that it’s a good day for the kids to get some sparring done outdoors. He and Riko had been workshopping the idea of having the first and second year students spar out in the surrounding forest, instead of the grassy school field. Get them used to fighting in different terrains, and it would also help them to–

Cursed energy detonates.

One moment, there’s nothing, and then in the next –a supernova. Suguru startles so badly that he nearly ends up tripping over his students when he turns, all of whom have been instantly flattened against the ground by the sheer pressure choking the air around them.

Kugisaki’s mouth opens, and closes. The normally-vibrant girl’s eyes are wide with panic, and no sound is coming out from her throat. She’s literally suffocating–

“Tamamo!” Suguru instantly calls upon the Special Grade cursed spirit using his cursed technique. The humanoid curse materializes in a swirl of illusory flames, falters, but determinedly raises a protective barrier.

Kugisaki coughs roughly. Once, twice, sharp and wracking, but Suguru can only feel relief as his student finally starts breathing again.

Fushiguro slowly raises his head, attempting to pull himself to his feet again on shaky limbs. His entire shirt is soaked through with sweat, but the boy doesn’t even seem to notice. “Geto-sensei, what in the world–?”

“The three of you need to go to the main building. That’s where the school’s protective barriers are strongest –Yaga-gakucho will be there actively maintaining the wards, too,” Suguru cuts off his student’s questions, because now isn’t the time for it. “I’ll go take care of this.”

“Ha, you think you can do anything?”

Itadori promptly slaps a hand over the mouth that opened up on his cheek –to no avail, as a new mouth promptly tears open on the back of his hand instead. Sukuna.

“Shut up,” Itadori hisses. Suguru does not miss the clear tremble in his tone, nor the worry in the compassionate boy’s eyes as he lifts his gaze. “Sensei–”

“Your sensei will be dead if he tries to fight that,” the ancient cursed spirit cackles, malevolent and amused. “To think that the world would still have cursed spirits of this level in this day and age…”

Itadori slaps another hand over the extra mouth, and this time, the King of Curses deigns to fall silent. The impact of his words leaves Suguru with three wide-eyed, fearful students, though, which is not appreciated.

“I’ll be fine.” Suguru has no intentions of fighting, and even if it comes down to a fight… well. Geto Suguru is Special Grade for a reason; he can hold his own, at the very least.

“Sensei, do you need us to–?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “This is beyond your abilities to handle –just stay with Tamamo, find Yaga-gakucho, and make sure that you stay safe.”

“But what about you, Geto-sensei?” Fushiguro makes a frustrated sound, “Where’s Gojo-sensei when you need him?!”

Suguru tries not to react too obviously to those words.

That explosive swell of cursed energy just now? The heavy cursed energy that nearly killed his students just from the looming pressure alone?

That was Shiki.

What happened?

For Shiki to react like this… it’s… unprecedented. The closest case that Suguru can think of is that time when the Sorcerer Killer had attempted to kill Satoru, but even then, Shiki had been moderately composed the entire time. So why–?

After haphazardly settling his students, Suguru summons the Rainbow Dragon and immediately takes off towards the epicenter of the roiling energy.

Satoru. Shiki. Concern seizes his heart in a vice grip, but Suguru forces himself to stay calm and keep his mind clear. It’s hard to imagine any threat that could possibly make Shiki react like this, when Satoru was arguably the most powerful sorcerer of their age just on his own, but given the circumstances–

There!

Amidst the broken wreckage and smoking rubble, a flash of white hair. Suguru urges the dragon into a steep dive, ignoring the rising panic at the sight of blood staining the ground, that’s Satoru’s blood–!

Satoru. Satoru!

Suguru leaps off of the cursed spirit, hitting the ground with a low thud, and sprints forward. Satoru is–!

It only takes an instant for Suguru to register the sight that he sees before him. Only an instant, before he’s bludgeoned by shock strong enough to leave a hollow ringing inside his head. By horror potent enough to leave him feeling as if his entire body is encased in ice.

Because that’s Satoru, doubled over on the ground on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his lips. But even so, his hands still form a shaky seal, and a wordless Red carves a swathe of destruction –directly across the writhing mass of flesh rising up from his back.

No, not just rising up from his back. His back has been torn open, and amid that formless, pulsating flesh, there is a pale arm reaching out, one that raises into a blocking gesture and withstands the powerful blast of energy. Not entirely unscathed, but that doesn’t seem to matter. The torn flesh mends itself with a burst of blood, and–

Satoru hisses, a pained sound. There is a loud crack, and then a second arm rips out from his back with a thick, renewed splatter of blood. Right before Suguru’s eyes, he can see something beginning to crawl out, the formless flesh beginning to take shape–

And he finally jerks into motion.

“Shiki, stop!” Suguru leaps forward, reaching out and seizing those pale, bloody hands before they can go any further. Shiki and Satoru share the same flesh and blood; he’d never, ever considered what it would be like if they ever got into a fight over it. “Stop it! You’re killing him!”

There’s no doubt that he’s going to be seeing this in his nightmares for months. But even so, Suguru holds on and doesn’t let go, praying that Shiki will hear him and listen.

The writhing mess of blood and flesh pauses.

Slowly, the hands that Suguru are holding onto shift so that they’re not pushing against him. Instead, soft fingers lace through his own on one hand, while the other reaches up and caresses his face.

… He’s not Toru-nii.

Shiki’s voice –echoes. An eerie, unnatural sound, faintly high and feminine, but underscored with something that marks her nature as inhuman.

“What… what do you mean?” Alarmed, Suguru glances down towards Satoru, because that’s most certainly Satoru. Except… his gaze as he looks back towards Suguru, faintly shocked and disbelieving, as if he’s seeing a ghost is…

He’s not Toru-nii, Shiki repeats herself. I’m going to devour him and find out what he did to Toru-nii.

“Please don’t do that,” Suguru instantly responds. He doesn’t know what is going on here –Satoru is missing? How?– but literally ‘devouring’ Satoru’s body sounds like a Bad Idea, no matter how she puts it. But if he wants to reason this out with Shiki… “It doesn’t matter who ‘he’ is. This body belongs to Satoru, doesn’t it? Shiki, please don’t make a mess with Satoru’s body. He’ll be very cross with you once he finds out.”

Satoru wouldn’t be, actually. He’d probably be more concerned about his little sister than his own body, but Suguru is smart enough not to mention anything about that.

Suguru…

“Be good. Don’t do anything drastic,” he admonishes gently, detecting the faint sense of unwillingness in her tone. Then, in a softer tone. “Leave this to me for now, alright? You did a number on him, so even if he tries to attack me, I’ll be able to deal with him. Easily. I understand that you’re worried about Satoru –I’m worried, too. But blowing up half the school is not the way to go about it. You could’ve killed the students.”

… Sorry.

“I’m not going to say ‘it’s alright,’ because it’s not,” Suguru sighs. “Satoru and I are both Special Grades, but you need to remember that other people aren’t, and it means that they’re a lot more fragile.”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Suguru.

Shiki’s hand draws back from his face; Suguru catches it, and lightly brushes his lips across her fingertips.

“I know,” he says.

Unlike most curses, Shiki might be violent, but she’s not malicious. She is, however, largely defined by her love for her brother –which explains her reaction, but he still needs to make it clear to her that it was unacceptable all the same, without coming off as overly harsh. Shiki could’ve killed Kugisaki, if Suguru hadn’t been with his students at the time, entirely by accident.

She snatches her hand out of Suguru’s when he moves to dip his head again, and he lets her go this time, faintly amused by the reaction. It’s a lot harder to run away from any teasing when she can’t just switch places with her brother, hmm?

Shiki doesn’t say another word as she pulls herself back into her brother’s body. Raw flesh and sinewy muscles contort unnaturally as they return to the original vessel, in a manner that should be anatomically impossible, but somehow works out to be perfectly fine all the same.

And then, it’s just Suguru and Not-Satoru left together amid the empty rubble.

“Suguru…? No. You’re not… who are you, really?”

The Special Grade sorcerer eyes the impostor for a moment. It doesn’t seem like he’s about to attack him, and if they could get him to cooperate in finding out what happened to Satoru…

“My name is Geto Suguru. Special Grade sorcerer, and teacher for the first year students at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical,” he introduces himself. “And you?”

“Gojo Satoru.” The other man returns his strange look with one of his own, “Also a Special Grade sorcerer, and… also the teacher for first year students in Tokyo Jujutsu Technical.”

“… What?”

#QA #Writing #zenith of stars au #twins au #but not really #not twin cannons either #uhhh #twin swap?#twin swap au #in which canon gojo takes an unexpected trip to twins-verse #and everyone freaks out #twins au satoru is not having a good time on his end either probably

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