#I know the tags aren’t great and I might miss things

[waaayoutofline]

MRS.CLAUS AND HER HELPER

PROMPTS: “This is just pointless” and “Fine, I’ll just do it myself then.”

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, fluff, awkward Nat, resident sunshine reader, christmas fun! (yes, I’m aware is actually eastern but idc).

Summary —> Natasha has feelings for you. Feelings that make her feel grumpy whenever you are near. Unfortunately, she has no opportunity to avoid you as she is assigned to a holidays mission with you.

WORD COUNT: 2927

“Miss Y/L/N, you are being requested in the conference room,” Friday announced through the speakers, causing you to halt in your tracks, the dummy of practice finally getting a break. Wiping the sweat off your forehead, you stretched your limbs before grabbing a towel. It’s only been three days since you returned from your last mission, so it catches you off guard to be called in already.

After quickly hitting the showers, you head to the lift, pressing the button while humming. But just as the mechanical doors are about to shut, a hand slips in between. “Hey, sorr-…Oh, it’s you,” a rather dry voice comments.

A smile spreads across your lips in a matter of seconds, your eyes following the figure of Natasha Romanoff slipping almost in resignation. “Good morning, Nat!” you greet her cheerfully.

“Morning,” she grumbles. “Where are you going?”

“Conference room,” her eyes widened, enough for you to connect the dots. “Oh, you too? That’s great! Perhaps they assigned us a new mission.”

Natasha, usually a morning person, grumbled. “Oh, yeah… joy,” she says, her tone lacking enthusiasm.

You might think that the red-headed spy isn’t too fond of you. Most would believe she really didn’t like you. She’s always scoffing, complaining, and even whining when forced to be in the same space as you.

But quite the contrary. She is fond of you. That’s the problem.

These fuzzy feelings did nothing but anger her. She has always been in control. She’s supposed to be. She’s a trained assassin, cold and ruthless. And yet, there’s something about you that makes her nerves betray her.

It’s her secret. Well, she is convinced that it’s a secret. The truth is that the whole team is aware. They know how Natasha Romanoff has a soft spot for the resident sunshine. Tony even has a pool going around for when she is going to actually do something about it.

Not that either two of you are aware of this fact.

You seem to be clueless. Unaware of the way Natasha’s ears turn pink whenever you smile at her. Of how her heart aches when you do as little as laugh, the sound so clear and joyful. Of the way she silently but deadly threatens anyone who dares to even tease you. Once, the team, except Wanda and Natasha, devoured your stash of sweets, not aware that they belonged to you. Unfortunately, that day you were particularly sensitive and a few tears slipped away before you could mutter, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

And unfortunately for the boys, Natasha’s darkened eyes watched silently as the tears caressed your cheeks. The following events that happened are not to be mentioned. Just know that the next day, they all bought bags and bags of your favorite goods, besides apologizing like crazy. Confused, you accepted everything with a “Thanks?”

You aren’t aware of any of that.

She just disconnects as you happily chat away, talking about how excited you were about the incoming Christmas festivities. Plans about decorating the whole tower and baking cookies and brownies and watching Christmas movies with the team and….The ding sound in the air as Natasha practically throws herself out of the lift. You giggle softly, “Where’s the fire at, Nat?” You tease, walking calmly in different ways to her wide, fast-paced steps. Natasha curses to herself, cheeks blazing. It should be illegal to be this cute at such hours.

“I just don’t want to be late,” she snaps. You shrug, not affected by her harshness. That’s another thing that baffled her. Usually, she intimidates even the senior agents with her direct personality and ironic comments and yet, you never seem to be hesitant or scared at all to approach her. It’s like you are immune to it.

Is she losing her touch? She feels like she is losing her touch.

Her hands go to the handle, opening it before doing a painfully awkward gesture for you to go in first. You smile in gratitude when passing next to her, the familiar scent of vanilla making her hold her breath.

“Y/L/N, Romanoff,” Nick greets, dramatically turning around. You say a cheery hello, Natasha just nods. Let’s get this over with. “I know you both just been on a mission, but we need your assistance on this.”

Natasha feels her stomach drop. Taking a seat, the director gives you both two copies of a report. Skimming through it, Natasha’s eyes widen. “Oh no, absolutely not.”

“I knew she was going to say that,” Tony chimes in.

“Don’t give her more reason to not do it, Tony,” Steve sighs.

“Are we sure it’s them?” You ask dubiously, eyes still on the paper. Fury nods.

“Yes. We have had surveillance on them for the last month, all points that they have they must have their next exchange somewhere in this mall. They are using the upcoming festivities to go more unnoticed.”

Natasha sighs. “So what, are we supposed to go and possibly catch them in broad daylight?” Fury shakes his head.

“Not exactly. We need you two to go undercover, keep a low profile and watch out for more suspicious activity. A few boxes of cargo isn’t enough to take the entire operation down. While we know they maybe are dealers on the area we don’t exactly know if it’s a full on operation. ”

The Russian’s eyebrows furrow. “Why not send an agent then? Have them confirm.”

“This is too delicate. A couple of rookies are less likely to draw attention. I need your eyes, subtlety, and Y/N’s enhanced hearing,” Fury explained.

Natasha sighed in frustration, pushing the folder away. “So, you want us to go into a mall full of late Christmas shoppers and look for suspicious drug trade that you’re not even sure is happening there?” she summarized.

Fury nodded. “Aren’t you perceptive, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha opened her mouth to protest further, but Fury beat her to it. “Now, how do you two feel about Santa?”

***

“Oh no, absolutely not,” Natasha huffs indignantly. The sounds of the rushing people are muffled by the door, the lights already making Natasha dizzy. You turn your head to look at her over the shoulder.

”Oh. Do you want to be the elf, then? I don’t mind-“ She cuts you off with a grunt.

”No, I don’t want to be anything. This is absolutely ridiculous. Just wait until we return to the tower, Fury is going to hear it.” A laugh escapes you at the scowl on her face. She sends you the mean look, but you don’t even flinch.

“It’s not that bad. Think of it as a Christmas spirit operation.” You try to cheer up, not really finding the zipper of the disguise. A scoff.

“We’ve been following this narcotic clan for months now, all leading us into dead ends. Perhaps we should start to consider the fact that they aren’t even in America anymore. This is just pointless.”

You shrugged your shoulders, putting the green suit on your shoulder and going to the changing room. “Fine, I’ll just do it myself then.” The spy’s arms, which were crossed, almost get out of their place as she grabs your arm. Gentle enough to not hurt, but firm enough to stop you.

You look up at her and she feels like she is about to faint. “What- no. What if they are here—…”

“You just said they may not even be here, so there’s nothing to worry about.” The reassurance doesn’t seem to calm her, but you keep walking away. Your legs are barely out of the storage room when she calls you to stop.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, fine! Fine. Just…” She stops you, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let’s get this over with.” You clap in excitement and face lighting like a christmas tree, spinning happily. A satisfied grin on your face that she doesn’t get to see. “Great! See you in five minutes, Mrs. Claus!” You sing as you finally exit. Natasha almost hits her head on the wall at how easily she just gave in.

She has definitely lost her touch.

***

“Mommy, why is Mrs. Claus looking so grumpy?” a little kid asks her mom as they pass by, the woman giving you two a disapproving look. You nudge Natasha’s side with your elbow.

“Yeah, Mrs. Claus… light it up a little, will you?” You mutter with a tight smile. “And also, don’t sit like that.” Natasha huffs, but changes position on the tall, red velvet-covered chair.

“Shut it, elf, or I’ll have you sent to the North Pole in no time,” she answers snarkily, but you were too distracted relocating the wall of fake gift boxes to have a better view.

Still, you look at her with an eyebrow raised. “What was that?”

A gulp. “Nothing.”

For as sweet as you were, you did know how to throw a mean glare. Was Natasha into it? Absolutely not.

“That’s what I thought.” The cheers of children echo, Natasha’s face paling as they all line up. Before she can say something about it, you put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, smile bright and be nice to the kids.”

”Bet you wouldn’t be so happy about having small people sit on your lap.” Faking a pout, you bend slightly to look her in the eyes.

”Aw, does that mean I won’t have a turn later?” You tease. And suddenly, all the remarks that the redhead had disappeared into thin air, never to be found again. You giggle. “Careful, your face is matching with your disguise.”

She is still sputtering indignantly by the time you redirect your attention to the crowd, a big bright grin on your face. The fact that she finds you cute even in the ridiculous elf suit you’re wearing speaks volumes.

“Merry Christmas everyone!” You greet happily, dramatically doing a reverence. “See, Santa has got a bit too many sweets before going to sleep situation.” Everyone cheers sadly. “But lucky for us, someone came all the way here all the way form the North Pole to save the day, give a big applause everyone for…Mrs.Claus!” Everyone claps excitedly as Natasha does a big, strained smile and salutes everyone to the public. The children (and even the parents) cheer loudly.

“Marry christmas. Who is ready to sit on my lap?” Natasha asks in exaggerated happiness, flushing some more when you give her a sneaky wink. What did she do to deserve this?

***

Ten or so children go by, all asking for their gifts. You want to think that everything is going well so far, no sign of any undercover trafficking, and everyone seems to be having a great time. Even Natasha.

“What do you want, kiddo?” The little boy grins toothlessly.

“I want a pink pony with fire breath and Pegasus wings!” The redhead hesitates.

“Well, those are rare… Anything else that you want?” The kid stops and thinks for a bit.

“Mmm, oh yeah! I want for mom and dad to bring their adult friends home instead of hiding them from each other. That way we can have a party!” Natasha’s eyes widened, choking on air. Your hand flies to your mouth in surprise as Natasha looks at you in panic. You send her a look that screams “You better fix this.”

“A pink flying, fire-breathing pony it is then!”

Besides that one, of course.

As fewer and fewer kids are in the waiting line, you feel yourself relax. If anything were to happen, at least there won’t be people who will get hurt. Natasha stretches lightly on the chair. When looking at the next kid, a little smile appears on her face. “Would you look at that? You look exactly like a smaller version of someone I know,” she mentions as she pulls the kid onto her lap.

The girl smiles, and you get an idea of who she reminded her of. “Really? From the North Pole? Is she magical?” Natasha makes an exaggerated thinking face while you scoff lightly.

“Well, she is a little bit of a troublemaker at times…” Natasha says dramatically, making the girl laugh. “But yeah… you could very well say she is magical.” Her voice is soft, sincere. You can’t help but blush a little.

***

“Ugh, I’m sweating. Why is this thing so hot?” Natasha complained as you two walked side by side, finally being able to catch a break. You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes wandering until you suddenly froze. Still wrestling with the disguise, Natasha didn’t notice. “I’m suffocating. This can’t be legal…”

“Natasha,” a couple of men scurried into a door next to the bathroom stalls. You recognized the characteristic tattoo of a crossed couple of spears on their necks until they both disappeared.

“It has way too many zippers and—” You hit her with your elbow, startling her.

“Stop it! Give me some room to complain, woman. I’ve already accepted plenty of your side eyes this morning.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled her along by her hand. Her eyes stuck where you two were touching. “What are you…” As you opened the door, you followed down the hallway, being careful not to be spotted. Shushing her and slightly pulling her against the wall to cover with the shadows, you pointed to the now visible men, who were around the corner in a small operation room. There were gift-themed boxes scattered everywhere, alongside bags of bright purple powder. Still, for anyone, it could be said this was a normal management room.

“Pretty sure there aren’t any Barbie houses in those boxes,” Natasha muttered. You nodded, counting the number of guys. “So that’s how they do it. They benefit from the holidays to smuggle the drugs…” She trailed off.

“…and because there is so much activity and shipment movement it goes easily under the radar.” You finished happily, looking up at her with a grin, only to notice that she was already watching you. Her eyes locked on your hand, which still rests softly on her upper chest, the space between the two of you being almost nonexistent. In your excitement, you didn’t notice how close you were.

For a second, you didn’t say anything. No happy comments or quick remarks. She didn’t say anything either, no sarcastic retort or reproach. The only sounds were your breaths and the faint pulse of a frantic heart.

Even if it felt like it was frozen, there was this notion that one of the two was moving slightly closer. If not both of you. But as it turns out, time didn’t actually freeze, and it didn’t take much for someone to spot you.

“Hey, what are yo-… Oh shit.” Someone exclaimed, making both of you jump away from each other. You caught the movement of Natasha reaching for the taser that (you didn’t approve of) was strapped on her back. However, a quick analysis of the man’s face told you enough to make her stop. She looked at you in confusion before reading the spark in your eyes. A nod.

“Oh, sorry, we thought this was an empty closet…” You giggled, dramatically grabbing Natasha’s arm and putting your face on Natasha’s shoulder, nuzzling her neck. You felt her tense before her arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer. You were pretty sure that extra beat wasn’t because of the adrenaline.

“This place is restricted to the public,” he muttered, flustered.

“Sure. How about we try the changing room, sweetheart?” Natasha muttered, loud (and suggestive) enough for the man’s awkwardness to grow tenfold and leave.

“What was that, man?”

“Nothing, just Mrs. Claus and her helper making out.”

It wasn’t long until you both returned to the first level of the mall. “Alright, this should be enough distance…” Natasha mutters, looking for any more tattooed men. Suddenly, an unusually soft, warm sensation process on her mind, looking down she can still see both your hands enterwined. You are looking to, but don't make any attempt to “fix” the situation.

“C’mon, let’s go inform Fury to bring in the team.” Immediately after that, you are pulling her along, Natasha’s face now fully complementing the same shade of her Mrs.Claus dress. If it was because of embarrassment or another feeling entirely she will not tell.

One thing she can say for sure. Perhaps this whole “christmassy operation” wasn’t bad after all.

***

—extra

(A FEW MOMENTS LATER, IN THE TOWER…)

”Great job, agents. I appreciate your work.” Fury hangs the calls, turning to the rest of the team. “Apparently, they found out actual activity of the smuggling. Have plenty of high ranked operators and shipment cargo.”

“Why the surprise?” Bruce questions, while Tony laughs.

”Shit, they actually did?” Everyone looks at him confused. “What? You guys don’t know?”

The room fills with puzzled looks as Steve exhales audibly in his chair. “This operation was merely a facade to orchestrate a charming little rendezvous between Natasha and Y/N. It’s rather remarkable they stumbled upon anything, considering the slim odds,” he elucidates nonchalantly.

”And Fury greenlit this?”

“I did. I’ve grown weary of witnessing Agent Romanoff’s infatuation with Y/N—it’s proving distracting. Even the junior agents are indulging in speculation about their eventual…get together. Sooner rather than later, I say,” Fury explains, shrugging indifferently.

“You did what?!” Natasha growled, practically kicking the door down.

Most people have never seen a single emotion on the director's face. But the ones who were there that day would forever remember the flash of fright that flashed in Nick Fury's good eye.

#mcu #marvel #natasha romanoff #fanfic #nat x reader #natasha x reader #fluff #oneshot #short prompt #christmas #grumpy nat #reader insert

[asdfghjklmals]

MILESTONES✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive comments. WORD COUNT: 6.0k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, dadtobe!gojo, pregnant!oc, established couple. a lil' jealous!oc.

SYNOPSIS: a compilation of short stories about the stages of pregnancy with oc gojo girlfriend and satoru. AUTHOR'S NOTE: please make sure to read 'accidents' before milestones. i couldn't have you guys miss out on oc gojo girlfriend and satoru's pregnancy journey. it was so fun to write this. a lot of research went into the baby gojo chronicles, i honestly think my fbi agent thinks i'm pregnant. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

8 weeks: the first pre-natal appointment

it has been two weeks since you and satoru decided that you were going to keep the baby. this week was your first pre-natal appointment to "meet" baby gojo. you couldn't tell who was more nervous, you or satoru.

during your appointment, satoru sat in the exam room as the nurse drew your blood to perform tests and to confirm the pregnancy. the nurse also performed a pap smear, which freaked satoru out after he saw what a speculum looked like. he said it looked like a 'torture chamber tool' and you wholeheartedly agreed with him.

you exchanged soft smiles with satoru multiple times throughout your appointment. satoru was engrossed with the entire process. his curiousness was adorable in your eyes as he asked your nurse questions about all the procedures and tests she was performing. about an hour later after receiving the results of your blood tests, your doctor entered the room.

“well, first things first, congratulations on your pregnancy (y/n)! your blood test came back positive with hcg.” your doctor began, “now let’s talk about some upcoming lifestyle changes you'll have to make.”

“wait, when do we get to see the baby?” satoru interrupted. you glared at him, dark green eyes telling him ‘shut up, satoru’.

“we’ll perform the ultrasound after this, satoru.” your doctor chimed. “(y/n), i want you to start taking a pre-natal. stop eating raw fish, deli meats, and eat thoroughly cooked meats for now.”

you blinked twice. that meant no sushi for you. your heart sank a little. satoru noticed the disappointment shift in your mood. he felt a little guilty.

"so that's why you had me cook your steak well-done..." satoru whispered to himself. you scoffed at his sudden realization from two weeks ago. (read ‘accidents’ here)

“do you or satoru have any pre-existing medical conditions in either families?”

“no. but he might be pre-diabetic by the time he’s 40.” you snorted.

satoru chuckled and reported back, “there’s nothing on my side of the family to note.”

“that’s great to hear. just be aware of gestational diabetes, (y/n). i know you love your chocolate ice cream so watch your intake.” your doctor typed some notes in your patient profile, “your due date is looking close to october 14th. any other questions?”

“can the baby come earlier?” satoru quickly asked.

your doctor smiled at the both of you, “i wouldn’t necessary call it early, but babies are considered full term at 37 weeks. it would be good for the baby to be born around or after that time.”

“uhm, do you think i’ll be able to give birth vaginally?” you asked next. your sister-in-law had to have c-sections, so that worried you. her recovery was a journey for her and honestly, it scared you. but you were willing to do whatever it takes to make sure baby gojo arrived safely.

“as long as there aren’t any complications, of course. we can plan on that. we'll just have to monitor how your pregnancy is going.” your doctor picked up on yours and satoru’s quiet and awkward social queues, "and yes, you can still have sex while you're pregnant.

"oh, thank god." satoru sighed in relief as you smacked him with the back of your hand. he was so embarrassing.

"please, just ignore him." you looked at your doctor, cheeks cherry red.

she laughed and asked the most important question of the day, “are you guys ready to meet your baby?”

you nodded your head and giggled, “yes. i think satoru’s more excited than i am. he won't shut up about it.”

“i’ve been waiting two weeks for this moment.” satoru said with a sheepish smile, his hand scratching the back of his fresh undercut. his blue eyes peeking through from his sunglasses.

“okay, let’s get started then.” your doctor announced while snapping on her sterile gloves. “we’ll be performing a transabdominal ultrasound today, nothing painful.”

she squeezed a handful of gel to apply to your belly. you jumped in your seat.

“are you okay?” satoru asked, concerned at your sudden movement.

you reassured him, “yeah, the gel is just cold.”

your doctor laughed in amusement and started to rub the wand around your abdomen. you heard a fast thumping noise.

“is that the heartbeat?” you wondered, looking at the black and white screen. satoru smiled from ear-to-ear as he cupped his cheek in his right hand, his left hand squeezing yours. hearing his baby’s heartbeat might take the cake for one of his favorite sounds in the world, next to your laugh.

your doctor reported back, “yup. a healthy 138 bpm. i’m gonna take some pictures now…”

you saw a tiny circle in the middle of the monitor as your doctor clicked away on her computer mouse.

“is that the baby?” satoru asked, squinting at the monitor.

“yes. you see the little image that looks like a bean?” she clicked again, “it’s about half an inch… that’s your baby.”

“it’s so cute. how tiny. a baby bean…” you gushed. you turned to look at satoru. he was itching his eyes.

“satoru gojo, are you crying?” you asked in disbelief.

he quickly defended himself, avoiding all eye contact with you. “no! something just got in my eye.”

he was such a liar. his infinity would never allow anything to touch his precious six eyes.

your doctor laughed at the sweet moment between the two of you. you watched the love of your life stare at the black and white screen in amazement. your heart felt like it was going to burst watching him. you wanted to hold him tightly and never let go.

12 weeks: surprise! we’re pregnant!

it was so hard for you and satoru to keep your pregnancy a secret for the past 6 weeks. the only two people who knew you were pregnant were shoko and megumi.

your doctor had advised you to wait until the end of your first trimester to announce your pregnancy because of the risk of miscarriage. once you made it past the first trimester, you thought about how you were going to tell everyone. of course, you and satoru wanted it to be a surprise. an imaginary lightbulb lit above your head.

“babe, i have an idea.” you said excitedly, grabbing satoru’s arm as he was looking through your office drawers for something sweet to snack on.

“hmmm. what is it, sweetheart?” he asked as he unwrapped a piece of chocolate. you always kept a stash of satoru's favorite chocolates in your desk for him because he loved to hide in your office and avoid his sensei duties.

“you know how we usually take a group picture with the faculty, students, and sister school every year? let's tell principal yaga to schedule it early this year.”

“oh, i like where this is going.” satoru laughed. he read your mind. you high-fived him. he gave you a quick peck on the cheek. couples’ telepathy was really a thing.

*********************************

“and why do we have to be here?” maki complained as she folded her arms. she wanted to train, not take a silly picture.

“come on, maki! it’s tradition to get a picture of all the students and faculty. it’s just that we’re taking the picture earlier than usual this year.” panda said as he patted her back.

“even okkotsu came back from his training to be in the picture. my sister flew in just to be in it too.” megumi said as he watched yuta interact with the students from kyoto. tsumiki was attached to your hip. megumi already knew the real reason why the picture was scheduled so early in the school year and why tsumiki was asked to be in the picture.

“alright! everyone looks great.” yuji cheered as he walked to his assigned spot for the group picture.

principal yaga gathered everyone, “please make your way to the field and get into your assigned spots. satoru will be pressing the button for the camera since he can teleport to his spot quickly.”

you nervously watched as all the students and jujutsu high faculty made their way to their spots, getting ready for the picture.

“okay everyone!” satoru shouted as he prepared himself to teleport next to you and megumi, “i’m pressing the timer!”

satoru appeared by your side as the 10 second timer ticked. satoru sneakily pressed record instead taking of a picture. “everyone say ‘(y/n)-sensei’s pregnant’!”

everyone stopped to look at you and satoru in confusion.

“what?”

“what did he say?”

“huh?!”

“(y/n)-sensei… is pregnant?!”

“wait what?”

“holy shit, (y/n)-sensei is pregnant!”

after a few seconds of questioning, everyone realized what had just happened. you had just announced your pregnancy.

in that moment, you were tackled by tsumiki, megumi, yuji, nobara, and yuta as they cheered around you in a group hug. ijichi, akari, principal yaga, nanami, ino, mei, utahime and shoko were all congratulating satoru. they took turns speaking with the both of you, giving you well wishes on a safe and healthy pregnancy.

“congrats, (y/n)-sensei.” maki said with a soft smile, embarrassed she complained about being here. she wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.

panda added, “yes, congratulations! we’re excited to see you and satoru become parents.”

“salmon, salmon!” toge congratulated you in his own words.

“thanks everyone. if you guys aren’t busy, we’re going to have a celebratory dinner tonight at splendid sushi. satoru’s treat.” you winked.

“hey! i heard that!” satoru shouted at you from across the field as he grinned. both you and satoru were thrilled to see everyone’s excitement on the news of baby gojo.

*********************************

“are you nervous to tell my brother you knocked up his little sister?” you teased satoru. you kissed his cheek as he brushed the loose strands of black hair behind your ear.

“nah, i’m sure he wants nieces and nephews for his kids. plus, it was an accident.” he joked as he drummed his fingers on the restaurant table. you and satoru people-watched through the restaurant window, waiting for touya and his wife. (a/n: yeah, touya is married with 2 kids now. his wife’s name is hana. a non-sorcerer. maybe i'll write a wedding fic.)

you smiled as you saw your brother walk into the restaurant, holding the door open for hana. touya’s black hair and golden-yellow eyes beamed when he saw you satoru.

“satoru! how have you been, bro?!” touya greeted his self-proclaimed brother, pulling him in for a bro hug.

“i can’t believe he hugged satoru first.” you looked at hana in disbelief as she giggled, hugging you instead.

“they really are bestfriends now.” hana realized as she sat across from you.

satoru sat back down in his seat next to you, touya sitting across from him. “glad you guys could have lunch with us. it’s been awhile.”

“we have a gift for you guys! a souvenir from our last trip.” you lied to your brother and sister-in-law. you pushed a card and white box towards them.

“open it. it’s special, made especially for you.” satoru urged, touya and hana taking the card to open first.

“what do you get a brother who already has everything?” touya read out loud. hana curiously reading along with him. satoru placed his hand on your thigh. the both of you were grinning from ear-to-ear watching the two open the box. they pulled out a beige baby onesie.

touya read the text on the onesie, “how about the title uncle and auntie…?”

after putting 2+2 together, touya hid his face with his hands, both him and hana were so happy for you and satoru. your eyes started to water watching them. a tearful laugh came out of you.

“congratulations, you two. my baby sis is having a baby...” touya said as he got up to embrace you.

you hugged him tighter, “thanks, touya…” you softly said. the warmth of your brother's love and support making you extremely emotional. these pregnancy hormones were out. of. control.

18 weeks: an important question

"aren't you curious to what the gender is?" shoko asked you and satoru. you asked shoko to join you two for lunch today because you had an important question to ask the amber-eyed doctor in regards to your unborn child.

you took a bite of your chicken katsu before answering, "of course we are. but we decided not to find out because we want it to be a surprise."

“what do you want it to be? a boy or girl?”

“it doesn’t matter. as long as baby gojo is healthy.” satoru stereotypically said as he stretched his arm to rest over your shoulder. he secretly wanted a girl.

you added, “we raised megumi and tsumiki. we already experienced the best of both worlds. so i’m not picky.”

“i guess i’m just being selfish because i want to know the gender.” shoko laughed as she took a sip of her mimosa.

“oh! shoko, we have a present for you.” you said as you put down your chopsticks. you turned to satoru and he grabbed another white box with a card attached do it, similar to the one you gave touya and hana.

“it better be the gender of your baby.” she laughed as she took the present from satoru.

“it’s something even better.” satoru said with his signature shit-eating grin.

shoko opened the card, reading it out loud, “i need an extra pair of hands to help me learn and grow… i know that yours will be the best because mommy and daddy told me so…?” she looked at the card, confused.

you asked her clearly while trying not to laugh, “shoko, will you be baby gojo’s godmother?”

shoko stared at both you and satoru after she realized what you had just asked of her. she started to chuckle as she got out of her seat to hug you. “of course, i will. hopefully your baby won’t grow up to be a little shit like satoru.” she said as she punched the white-haired sorcerer in the arm, satoru completely letting her bypass his infinity to do so.

“there’s another gift in there.” satoru added, pointing at the giant glass.

shoko picked up the pint glass and read the etching, “you drink too much. you smoke too much. and you cheated on your medical exam. we can’t think of anyone more suitable to be baby gojo’s godmother.”

shoko laughed, “okay, this might have been better than finding out the gender of your baby.”

26 weeks: baby gojo’s first (external) kick

megumi came home this weekend to spend time with you, satoru, and tsumiki. normally, he would be spending his free time exploring japan with nobara and yuji, but since you were pregnant and tsumiki was back for her semester break from her study abroad program, he wanted to spend his free time with his family.

you were in the kitchen with tsumiki making dinner while satoru and megumi sat around the living room with his demon dogs, shiro and kuro. catoru was lounging in their cat scratch post and your spirit birds were out on the patio enjoying the weather. you didn’t realize how zoo-like your home was until now... and that wasn't even including all of megumi's shikigami either.

while chopping vegetables, tsumiki updated you on her high school adventures abroad. ever since she started at e.f. academy, she has been non-stop on-the-go with extracurricular activities. she told you about her latest projects, how the weather was in california, about all the friends she made, and even the boy she had a small crush on. (read 'wherever you are' here)

on the couch, megumi spoke with satoru about his shikigami and how he’s been able to tame a majority of them now. this was the first time in awhile those two haven’t bickered in your presence, and it was a sight to behold.

you rested your hands on your belly as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, listening to your sweet teenager talk about how cute her crush was. you reminisced about your time in high school, how you thought satoru was a complete asshole when you first met him, and how his good looks and horrible personality made up for it. if your 18 year old self could see you now, she wouldn’t believe the sight. (read 'love at first fight' here)

you felt a little tap against your hands. “huh?” you said out loud, realizing what you just felt on your hands.

“(y/n)? are you okay?” tsumiki asked as she put down the chopping knife. satoru and megumi turned around from the couch, all the attention was on you.

“i think baby gojo just kicked my hand.” you announced. only you were able to feel baby gojo kick internally for the past couple weeks, but now, you thought that satoru and the kids would be able to actually feel the kicks from the outside too.

“hurry, come over here!” you said frantically, hoping baby gojo would kick again. satoru dramatically teleported beside you as megumi hopped over the couch ledge to race over to the kitchen, kuro and shiro following him.

you took all three of their hands and placed it on your belly where you thought baby gojo was. the demon dogs sniffed around you, their tails wagging happily. you pursed your lips, waiting for another kick. you felt kuro and shiro licking your hands.

and there it was. another gentle kick from baby gojo.

“i felt it!” tsumiki cheered as she jumped around the kitchen. her bright smile lighting up the room.

satoru hugged you from behind. you both smiled while watching tsumiki and megumi. megumi looked at his hand, and then back at your stomach.

“did you feel it, megumi?” you asked him with a smile.

“yeah, i did.” he said softly. “that was pretty cool.”

“what about you, daddy?” you grinned as you asked satoru.

megumi gagged at satoru’s new title, “gross. i’m leaving.”

you and satoru watched as your moody teenager made his way back to the couch, tsumiki’s attention back on chopping vegetables. satoru’s arms were still wrapped around you, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. baby gojo kicked once more.

“i think baby gojo is saying ‘let go of us so mommy can finish cooking’.” you giggled as you turned around to face the white haired sorcerer. you caressed his cheek with your palm. he snuck two kisses on your neck.

“fine… but i expect some alone time later.” he winked at you before kissing the palm of your hand.

you laughed, “sorry, babe, the kids are home this weekend, plus you get me all to yourself next week when we go to mexico for our baby moon.”

30 weeks: a first time parents' class

"babe, get ready. i signed us up for a class."

"what kind of class? it better not be another ‘how to have sex while pregnant’ class." you rolled your eyes at the ridiculous class that satoru signed you up for at the beginning of your pregnancy. you sighed, your belly weighing you down on your very comfortable white couch that you would probably need satoru's help getting out of.

he grinned at you as he grabbed your purse and your shoes. "a first time parents class."

your doctor recommended that you and satoru waited until your third trimester to take a 'first time parent' class. the class would teach new parents about the different kinds of births, pain management strategies, what to do if and when your water breaks, how to time contractions, postpartum care, caring for the baby, and baby first aid.

“do we have to go?” you asked, “i’m tired.” feigning exhaustion as you put the back of your hand over your eyes and forehead.

“of course we have to go!” satoru exclaimed as he sat down next to you. he was always so excited whenever it came to anything related to baby gojo. he slipped on your white sneakers for you, swiftly tying your shoe laces bunny ear style as you sat up on your elbows. you caught yourself smiling at him. he was so doting. you could definitely get used to this.

satoru studied you. you weren't wearing any makeup today, but you had the radiant "pregnancy glow" that everyone talked about. you wore a beige dress under a white crop t-shirt that hugged your belly tightly. “you look beautiful, so no need to change or do your makeup.”

“you just don’t want to be late.” you laughed. this was the first time that satoru gojo was on time for anything.

*********************************

satoru teleported you both to the hospital in tokyo that you go to for your all your doctor appointments. apparently the hospital was hosting the class he signed up for. there were many pregnant women with their significant others, friends, mothers, and mother-in-laws sitting around the small auditorium.

as you entered the room, you heard gasps and whispers about satoru.

“wow! what a good looking guy!”

“he’s a total hottie!”

“that guy is gonna be a dilf for sure!”

“do you see the cutie with the white hair and blue eyes?!”

“where should we sit?” satoru asked as he held your hand. you looped your free arm around his bicep covetously, staking claim to your man as if your very pregnant belly didn't do so already.

“don’t pretend like you don’t hear all the women in this room talking about you.” you hissed at him as you sat down in a seat closer to the front of the auditorium. because this happened everywhere you went with satoru, normally it wouldn't bug you, but for some reason it did today.

“somebody’s a green eyed monster today.” he sang with a smug smile. it was his favorite analogy to use when you were jealous because your green eyes were so fitting. he sat down next to you, draping his left arm around your shoulder, his right elbow perched on the arm rest. after over a decade of being with you, he was unphased by comments from other women. he ate it all up in high school, but satoru gojo became a changed man once he met you.

“am not.” you said under your breath. you stayed quiet for a moment. “babe, i just think it’s funny how—”

satoru's left ear was saved as your 'i think it's funny how' rant was interrupted by the presenter, “good afternoon! and welcome to the first time parents class!”

even though you were jealous and didn’t like how all the other women in the auditorium were drooling over satoru, you couldn’t stay mad. throughout the years, satoru’s beautiful blue eyes have never strayed and he never made you feel unwanted, even when you argued or when you were being difficult and stubborn. he was never bothered by your jealously. you were the only person he chased after since the day he met you at jujutsu high.

throughout the class, satoru took notes on his phone and asked questions during the q&a. it was hard to stay mad at a man as dedicated and involved as satoru gojo. you decided to just ignore the women in the class, however, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t cling to satoru when the class ends.

*********************************

“so, what’d you think about the class?” satoru asked as he placed your go-to order of ice cream in front of you. he sat across from you as you glared at his sweet, handsome, smug face.

“it was fine. we learned a lot of information, don’t you think?” you deferred as you scooped a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

“yeah, and i learned that you still get jealous til’ this day.” satoru poked fun at you. “remember the first time i took you shopping in shibuya? you were soooo jealous of all the girls talking about me and you weren’t even my girlfriend at the time.” he laughed at the memory. (read ‘love at first fight’ here)

you quipped back, “satoru, everyone knows that you’re the one who’s obsessed with me.”

“true,” he agreed while taking a bite of your ice cream, “but it’s nice to see that side of you every once in awhile. what’s my baby gonna do when she’s not my number one anymore?” he mocked in a playful tone, shooting a bright toothy smile at you.

your emerald green eyes pierced his sapphire blue eyes. “what do you mean by that?”

“baby gojo is gonna be my number one.” satoru said nonchalantly, licking caramel off your spoon.

you took your ice cream away from him. holding the cup closer to you instead of putting it in the middle of the table to share.

satoru chastised you, “that’s not nice, sweetheart.”

“you’re insufferable, babe.” you rolled your eyes at him. “first, you let women drool all over you in front of me, then you tell me that i’m not your number one anymore. what’s next? you don’t love me either?”

“there you go with the theatrics.” satoru sighed, folding his arms. he wouldn't expect anything less from his life partner.

“i learned from the best teacher, i think his name was satoru gojo.” you winked at him.

"it's a good thing i love you." satoru said as he leaned over the table to kiss you on the lips. he tasted just like caramel.

32 weeks: nesting

"this fucking crib is going to be the death of me." satoru muttered under his breath as he struggled putting together the 'smart' crib that he bought. as soon as satoru found out you were pregnant, he spent a whole month researching cribs to decide which one he was going to buy for baby gojo. he decided on the most expensive one, thinking that it would be the best. rich people logic. this crib was called a 'snoo'.

"you didn't have to get such a high tech crib, babe." you said as you sat on the bed folding warm, freshly washed baby clothes and baby bedding for the snoo. you admired how cute and small the onesies were. because you and satoru didn't know the gender of your baby, you bought a lot of neutral colored clothing like beiges, tans, browns, and whites.

"my baby is going to have the best everything." satoru boasted. of course, baby gojo was going to be spoiled. they had you and satoru gojo as their parents.

during the past couple of weeks, you and satoru had bought a handful of important things that new parents would need for a newborn baby such as a crib, stroller, car seat, changing table dresser, and a comfortable lounging chair for your bedroom to put next to baby gojo's crib for the late night feeds.

satoru insisted that everything would be 'nuna' branded. the employee at his favorite department store convinced him after they mentioned that nuna was the "lamborghini of baby strollers and car seats." the matching stroller and car seat system was well over $1,000, you couldn't argue with satoru about how much he was spending because it would be hypocritical of you and your spending habits. so you let him get what he wanted.

after hours of setting up the snoo, putting together the baby stroller, installing the car seat, and building the dresser, satoru sighed, "what a long day." he crawled under the covers to meet you in bed, the back of his hand covering his face in exhaustion.

“it’s a good thing you could just use blue to move the lounge chair from the front door to the bedroom. you probably would've broke your back.” you teased him, knowing satoru gojo doesn’t do manual labor.

“the one easy part about today.” he complained.

while satoru took on his fatherly projects, you were able to deep clean the apartment, put baby clothes and diapers into the newly built dresser, add the clean bedding to the snoo, and re-organize all the drawers in the apartment. you were in the nesting stage of your pregnancy.

you turned to face him, your pregnancy pillow creating a divide between you and the exhausted sorcerer. he flattened your pregnancy pillow with his arm as you took his hand to lace your fingers with.

“you could’ve hired someone to build the snoo and the dresser, satoru.” you said to him, knowing that he normally would’ve.

“yeah, i know, but this is for my baby. i want to make sure everything is perfect.”

your heart melted at the fact that satoru was giving it his all to be involved. deep down, he wanted to be a good father and you could see that. you were proud of him.

"congrats, daddy. you just spent the day nesting with me." you smiled. you knew satoru secretly adored his new title.

the white haired sorcerer laughed, “what the hell is nesting? are we birds?”

“nesting is when couples get their home ready for the baby, satoru.”

“oh yeah? spending hours organizing drawers is nesting? because there’s nothing baby gojo will hate more than the junk drawer we have in the kitchen.” satoru teased.

you kissed the back of your teeth in annoyance, “you have been saying for years that you’d clean out the junk drawer. i found crayons in there from when megumi was in elementary school. he's a high schooler now. it only took me getting knocked up for it to finally be clean.”

you turned your body away from satoru. he moved your pregnancy pillow so he could cling to you (and so that he could be the big spoon).

“i’m just kidding, babe.” he whispered in your ear, kissing the back of your shoulder blade with his soft lips.

“uh huh. go to sleep, satoru.” you replied back to him, attempting to shut your eyes.

“so feisty…” satoru mumbled, still peppering soft kisses along your shoulder blade.

37 weeks: full term

"well... i can give birth at any time now." you said as you read your 'what to expect' app.

satoru placed his free hand on your stomach as he joined you on the white fluffy couch in your living room. you moved satoru's hand to where baby gojo was, using his hand to press firmly into your stomach.

he quickly pulled his hand away from you, afraid that he hurt you and baby gojo, "doesn't that hurt your stomach when you press that hard?" he asked.

"babe, no. give me your hand back. you'll be able to feel baby gojo's feet." you said, reaching for his hand that he reluctantly gave back to you. he leaned over to see what the hard feeling in your stomach was.

"that's baby gojo's feet?" he asked, amazed.

"yeah, baby gojo is literally killing me right now though." you said as you shifted uncomfortably. baby gojo liked to sleep in this position, making you lay on your left side more often.

satoru frowned, he knew you were uncomfortable now more than ever. "i'm sorry, babe."

you squinted at him, "what are you apologizing for?"

"for getting you pregnant."

you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so you nuzzled your head on his chest. he pulled you closer to him, "don't apologize for that. apologize if i'm not able to get an epidural or something." you snickered as you looked up at him, "ready to read week 37?"

satoru nodded and kissed the top of your head as you laid against him.

"baby gojo is as big as a canary melon. estimating 19 inches, and 6 pounds. at 37 weeks, you're 9 months pregnant with the end in sight." you read out loud.

satoru took the phone from you to read his part, "at a glance, if baby gojo was born this week, they'd still be early term. baby gojo is practicing for their grand entrance by inhaling and exhaling amniotic fluid, blinking, and turning from side to side. baby gojo can grab onto things now. baby gojo is likely to be sucking their thumb a lot these days in preparation for feeding sessions."

"it says babies grow about a pound a week. the average fetus weighs about 6 pounds. and that boys are likely to be heavier than girls." you read, "since it's a little crowded in your uterus now, baby gojo may not be kicking as much. instead, they're probably stretching, rolling and wiggling." you laughed because baby gojo was still kicking strong, sometimes it was painful, stopping you in your tracks in the middle of the day.

satoru blue-eyes widened as he read the next paragraph, "here's an interesting fact. at birth, baby gojo's head, which is still growing, will be about the same circumference as their chest."

"i pray to god that baby gojo doesn't have your big head or my vagina is toast." you joked.

satoru glared at you, shaking his head while chuckling. he went back to read through some of the pregnancy symptoms. he noticed that you experienced a majority of the symptoms on the list: the pelvic pain, leg cramps, pregnancy brain, and insomnia.

because you were of small stature, you started experiencing more pressure on your pelvis as the weeks went by. sometimes satoru would hold up your belly for you with his infinity whenever you were close by, and you were thankful for such a helpful cursed technique.

before bed, satoru would feed you bananas and massage your legs to help with the leg cramps. with your breasts and stomach as big as they've ever been, you finally got your stretch marks. for the majority of your pregnancy you were stretch mark-free, they didn't appear until the third trimester. satoru liked to call them your 'tiger stripes' when he would help you apply stretch mark creams and oils to your body. him helping you apply those creams and oils was a form of intimacy you didn't know you needed during this time. satoru always knew how to make you feel confident again.

your pregnancy brain caused you to be a little forgetful, so the acrylic whiteboard in the kitchen was your bestfriend. you left little reminders on the board for yourself, satoru, and megumi throughout your pregnancy.

lastly, it was hard for you to sleep now that you were in the home stretch of your pregnancy. every sleeping position was uncomfortable, and you had to wake up multiple times a night to use the bathroom. you never got a consistent amount of sleep.

even though being pregnant was uncomfortable, you experienced some of the best memories with satoru this year: your trip to mexico gifted from touya, your surprise pregnancy announcement, asking shoko to be baby gojo’s godmother, and all the special intimate moments with satoru. your unborn baby was already so loved by everyone. you couldn't have asked for a better accidental pregnancy.

you and satoru laid on the couch together all afternoon, enjoying each other's presence in this chaotic life for jujutsu sorcerers. catoru purred and slept next to you two on the chaise, your spirit birds perched on their stands as they watched over the apartment. you dozed in and out of sleep throughout the day as sleep was rare for you lately.

you felt satoru's warm hand on your belly again, you held his hand and lifted your head, emerald greens looking towards him.

"babe, i have a serious question." you said softly.

raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, he asked you curiously, "and what's your serious question?"

"are you ready to be a dilf?" you laughed.

"are you ready to be a milf?" he asked you back, chuckling, "cause you are definitely a milf, babe."

you smiled at satoru as he continued to plant soft kisses on your hand, "yeah, i'm ready to evict baby gojo."

little did you and satoru know, baby gojo would break your water next week to make their dramatic entrance into the world. yours and satoru's lives would be forever altered.

satoru and oc gojo girlfriend go on a baby moon from week 27, read the bonus chapter, ‘baby moon’ here.

or are you ready to meet baby gojo? read the next chapter, ‘hello baby’ here.

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

#jjk x oc #jjk fluff #gojo x oc #gojo satoru x oc #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x oc #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo imagines #satoru gojo imagines #jjk imagines #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru imagines #the baby gojo chronicles

[precious-little-scoundrel]

| Ida’s Law

Introductory Part

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlisting and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life, if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Warnings: disturbing content- if you made it through last one this one should be a breeze, however it picks up where we left off so expect mentions of war, wounds, illusions to past rapes, Nazis being racist fucks, possibly some internalized misogyny about it all and some hopefully very 🥹🤧 reunions

A Note Going Forward: With this part now published, I am happy to open this series up for prompts. Ideally I’d like this series to end up being exclusively prompt-inspired and will be putting out prompt lists accordingly. I think that will be a fun way to keep the interaction going, stretch my own skills and explore all the different scenarios that may intrigue y’all. You’re welcome to come up with your own prompts, too. All are welcome, none guaranteed but let’s be real -I’m obsessed with this AU so I’ll likely do it. For now I’ll be keeping all writing to POW Camp and Liberation and Post-Liberation timelines.

“Well, what do we know?” Ida Brady asked the first officer out on the other side as they began to filter through the laborious processing of the camp. She counted them down, one familiar face after another appearing through the doorway again with no worse indignity than the new identification tags hanging from their necks.

“I hate a guy named Johann, and I like a guy named Fritz, and the lieutenant guy wasn’t bad.” Maureen declared, straightening her precious cap atop muddy auburn tresses. “Who went and named their son Fritz after the last war? I mean really? Who does that to a kid? It’s like he’s making up for it now, though, awfully nice.”

“Mm, I thought so, too.” Ida hummed, “Might keep an eye on that one, work on him a bit. You think, Kendeigh?”

“Work on him yourself, Ida.” Maureen scoffed.

“Not much to work with.” Ida retorted, the first general reference to her disfigurement she’d made. “What do you know? What’s up?” she left off to inquire after Tallulah Smith who came out the other side of processing looking more than exasperated.

“Know? They don’t know squat.” she said, “Never heard of a Cherokee.”

“I’ll be.” Maureen was grinning sharply. “Wasn't enough being a woman for ya Smith, ya had to go and be a brown one.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” She griped, “They kept insisting I was a fighter pilot. That’s what all the ‘dark ones’ are, according to them. Told them I’d rewire their insides and maybe then they’d take my engineering degree seriously.”

“I’d like to see that.” Maureen murmured, drowsiness beginning to take over at the comparative calm of their new surroundings.

“Looks like we got everyone, yeah?” Ida peered over the heads of the crowing room and counted out her charges in a silent tally.

“Looks like.” Smith agreed. “Got billet assignments?”

“I do. Colonel Clark, most senior prisoner here, said the combines are strict but the rooms aren’t. Let’s try to behave until we feel our way, then we can swap, if they allow.”

“It’s going to smell like feet no matter where and who we share it with.” Smith pointed out and Ida heaved a great sigh as if that were the hardest prospect she’d yet encountered.

“Mm.”

“Buck is out there!” Maureen suddenly cried out, grabbing at Ida’s arm, pointing out the window at the muddy yard.

“How nice. Gotta get this sorted first, eyes in, Kendeigh.”

Maureen reluctantly tore her eyes away from her dearly missed pilot. “Yes sir.”

“All right,” Ida’s voice carried as well as it ever had, commanding immediate quiet and attention, “those in the 350th, 419th, -the hundredth!- on me. Gather ‘round. That’s it, come on. Alright, well, we made it, well done. Truly, well done to all of you. Now I know you well enough to not accuse any of you of being pure idiots, just because we made it to where we wanted to go doesn’t mean any of what’s ahead is going to be easy. Be wary, don’t let your guard down, you don’t know plenty of these men and they don’t know you, I’m sure there are measures in place for spying already. Be sensible. I am certain we can rely on the kindness of those in the hundredth, but even then keep in mind, if you are cold, they are too, if you're hungry, you best believe they are hungrier, the last thing we need is a crisis of chivalry in here. Rely on them, except their help, but don’t ever take from them. Understood? And one more thing, since the human spirit is irrepressible I feel it’s warranted to make one more housekeeping note. None, and I do mean none, no inner relations at all are allowed. I don’t care how cold you are, how sweet he’s been, or how much you’ve missed him. The Red Cross aren’t sending rubbers, and don’t ever take the promise of a pull out. Do you want a one-way ticket to a death camp or a bullet to the head? Get pregnant. Simple as that. You think the Jerries think poorly of you now for being female? Try being a matron. The point is to blend in as much as possible, keep that in mind. Whatever you do, keep that in mind. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Colonel?” One voice demurred, raised hand and respectful title only forerunners for an obvious objection incoming.

“Yes? Sanchez, isn’t it? You’re not one of mine, I think.”

“No, sir, 55th -fighters.”

“Yes, well, welcome. What’s your question?”

“No offense sir but- what about the guards?” Sanchez asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Brady replied with typical candor, “I believe so far we’ve seen a mix here. I’m sure our friends can give us tips on who to watch out for.”

“No sir, sorry I meant-“ Sanchez kept her teeth clenched until her thoughts seemed to form better, “-you said no relations. What about the guards? No disrespect meant colonel and I don’t know about yours, but mine -they weren’t pulling out.”

“Mm.” Maureen thought that if Ida smashed her lips together any tighter they’d turn whiter than her skin, the bent aviators she had managed to preserve this entire time did a remarkable job of masking whatever feeling was stiffening her spine to the current degree, but all the same, her spine was stiff, “no offense taken, an excellent point. I’ll inquire about any possible…remedies. Anyone else?”

A multitude of hands shot up and Ida Brady scanned them with bewilderment until she realized her lapse in specificity. “Anyone else with questions, I meant! Saints alive. No? Good, let’s claim our bunks and see about a wash.”

After the dark interior of the building, being processed for hours, the hazy late afternoon light of outside glared painfully against Ida’s bloodshot eyes as she stepped out, leading the way down the three wooden steps to the muddy yard. Monochrome, this place, brown wooden buildings and brown earth and a muddy sky and brown flight jackets one after another.

And there in the midst of it, waiting for them with ever constant patience and thinned stateliness was Gale Cleven and his lost blue eyes and an alarmingly symmetrical set of facial scars.

“Major.” Ida felt her face soften into an odd expression she realized was likely that of relief. Cleven had that way about him, it was better suited to her preferences than Egan’s blustering warm hearted concern, Colonel Harding’s gruff joviality or her John’s perpetually intense concern. Her little brother was, oddly, nowhere to be seen now and that was a comfort in this wide open, highly observed space.

“Colonel.” Gale Cleven’s eyes weren’t a lost blue anymore but a pair of stormy seas and Ida steeled herself for pity. She found smoldering rage in his face instead. Another relief.

“How was it?” he was nodding to the command hut.

“Fine.” she assured.

He was searching for something in her face and Ida was sure it was easily found skin deep along her puffy, purpled left cheek, but if she had anything to do with her expression alone, he’d be kept guessing for ages. “Good.” he decided at last but his smile was tight, “Made John wait in the combine, he’s in there pacing like a madman. They make a note of who’s attached to whom, Colonel,” he explained, “a more discreet reunion seemed in order.”

“We’d appreciate all the direction you—“ Ida had begun but was cut short by Lt. Kendeigh who broke ranks from the processed group and came out of the hut behind Ida like a bat out of hell, running up to Cleven and tackling him in a hug, rather like a dog with their long lost master.

The Major’s lanky frame staggered under her surprise attack, perhaps more from shock and ill preparedness than poor rations and a weakened constitution. Or at least Ida, hoped that was the case.

Well, there went all intentions for discretion about partiality on their part, five seconds had gone by and Maureen still hadn’t let go, her valued cap about ready to knock off her head and his too. Seeing the gig was up, Cleven even belatedly brought an arm up to hug her shoulders, his pleased face bashfully pacifying her intensity. “If it isn’t my favorite bombardier.” Cleven mumbled, his lips failing not to tug upwards in the tiniest of smiles, and he gave her a pat on the back.

“Buck!” Smith was coming in hot behind Kendeigh and knocked Ida’s shoulder in her haste to get around her and join in. “Thank Jesus you’re here.” she grunted as she squeezed him and Kendeigh both, “I mean -we’re sorry you’re here but since we’re here-“

“Glad you’re here, too, Smith.” he assured her gently, another pat on another back and Ida watched Cleven’s composure began to flake as he took stock of their roughened appearances. “It’s gonna be ok now.” he offered, and coming from someone else that statement would’ve sounded a great deal less impressive than it did coming from him. It also sounded hollow without Bucky’s typical parroting of the upbeat sentiment. “Let’s get you girls sorted.” he nodded at Ida who fell in alongside him, if only to distance and displace Kendeigh and her over familiarity just a tad.

“What’s your Kommandant like?” Ida asked by way of conversation as Gale directed them in a trudge along the brown paths towards his specified hut.

“Think I know him as well as you.” Gale admitted, “Tried to stay low, been no reason for socializing. Wouldn’t advise a trip to the camp doctor though.” He added the last part after a beat.

“Why?”

“Your Johnny says he’s got an experimental mind.” Gale smiled wryly but there was a grieved look behind it that made Ida’s pulse pound in alarm, “If you go in with a cold, you might come out with a radioactive arm instead.”

“Noted.” Ida muttured with a shiver, wishing to god her jacket hadn’t been taken off her a couple stops ago, the sun was waning in the dull sky and the breeze was frigid without it. “Speaking of doctors,” she decided to go for it, “is Johnny -my John- is he alright? At the gate it was such a racket, was he…standing?”

Gale paused in his step up into the combine, brows knitted in surprise and she noticed along with him that their little march had drawn quite a little audience from the fellow inmates. Females in a Stalag -what a novelty. “Yeah, John’s fine. He’s fit.” Gale still had that quizzical look on his face.

Ida swallowed hard and gave him another curt nod, one she wanted to come across as grateful but wasn’t sure it did, her battered cheek was responding less and less to her mind’s commands. “Right. This us?”

“Yeah. Figured we’d try to keep as many close as possible.” He explained, “Welcome to paradise.”

“What did y’all name this shack?” Maureen asked him as she stepped over the threshold, it was dark inside and smelled of lumber and smoke.

“We haven’t.” Gale admitted, forlorn at the realization that things like that didn’t occur to people like him. If Bucky had been here, he’d have had it named in an hour, and something awful, too. Something that would make them all laugh.

“Damn oversight, Gingerale.” Maureen teased merrily but Cleven noticed the dimming light in her eyes as she took in the cramped, uninspired utility of the place. One wooden doorway after another.

“Talked it over with Colonel Clark during your processing,” Gale said, “decided it were best if we mingle you all among the men we know. Boys from your squadrons, friendly faces. A few of you in each room.”

“I call dibs on yours.” Maureen unabashedly grinned up at Cleven but Ida saw how a heartbroken look of protectiveness skittered across his features.

“Alright.” he muttered without a fight for once.

“Mm, Smith, Sanchez, Tong, you in here.” Ida decided and having snapped her fingers she was moving on to the next stuffy room. Asking Cleven at each about their current occupants, and with the precision of memory required of a woman who had to memorize her opponents on the promotional ladder, chose their new bunk mates accordingly.

“And where’s Johnny bunked?” she asked him in a low tone as she watched the next set settle in from the doorway.

“In with me, further down the hall, Demarco, Hambone, a few others.”

Ida seemed to hesitate as she eyed up an extra bunk in the current room that the last of her girls were settling into.

“Don’t be a stick, colonel,” Maureen spoke up gently, a surprising liberty even for her, “you need friends right now. Bunk with us. Everyone’s going to be fine. Can’t be all places at all times, ya know?”

Ida didn’t reply but after a moment she admitted, “I should go see John.”

Gale and Maureen exchanged a look and then moved in unison to catch up to her as Ida Brady walked, brisk as if she were back home at Thorpe and about to pick a fight with Jack Kidd, down the long hall to one of the last rooms. “In here?” she asked Gale, pointing at the closed door -they liked to keep it so for warmth and privacy, and to acclimate the guards to it being closed when the radio was out.

“Yeah that’s us.” Cleven replied, reaching out and snagging Maureen back a step as Ida turned the handle. “Let’s give ‘em a minute.” he suggested, referring to the Bradys.

He held her jacket sleeve for a brief moment before turning it to grab her hand, he’d missed those hands. To his horror their usual calloused elegance was a swollen paw of bruises. “The hell, Maureen?” he whispered in shock, turning it over to examine it, grip strong around her wrist before she could pull away. “Who did this?”

Maureen did her best to shrug, “Some bitch stood on them.” she said simply, and surrendered the other hand for a similar heartbroken inspection.

Kendeigh was indeed not as visibly marred as Ida Brady or a few of the others, but still, Gale kept turning her crushed hands over and over, recalling with vivid agony the way he’d admired them at all manner of work before. To hurt them that way, to restrain her so meanly- “Maureen,” she’d never heard his voice dip so low, and his eyes were simmering where they cataloged her hurts, “what’d they do to you?”

“What’d they do to your face?” she shot back, perhaps more perturbed by the immaculately symmetrical scars on his once porcelain face than her own condition. Women expected the treatment they’d gotten, in some twisted way, but this on the other hand, it disturbed her.

Gale looked taken aback by her question and quickly dropped her hand to touch his right cheek as if to remind himself the scar was obvious to everyone. “Flak.” he replied a beat too late.

“Awfully precise.” she snarked.

“I asked you first.”

“I told you, a bitch stood on them.”

“I’m your superior officer.”

“Who it looks like someone had some fun with,” Maureen snapped back, “who did this?”

“What happened to you?” He hit right back but his voice quavered.

“I’m fine now. I wanna go see the boys. Come on.”

“Just- give them another minute.” Gale insisted, pulling her back away from the doorway again, “It’s a lot.” He reminded, “For a brother to see his sister like -that.”

Maureen couldn’t argue with that, besides Gale looked so sad and more fragile than she’d ever seen him, and the gentle hold he had on her jacket was as needy and scared as a child’s. “I’m glad we’re in this together.” she whispered.

“Me too.” he admitted, guilty and sad over how true that was before letting her press her lips to his.

Ida Brady didn’t know what she expected when she opened the door, not much she supposed, just a living brother with any luck. It was a decently tidy room, plates stacked on a rough hewn board at the far end, eight bunks lining the walls, stacked three tall. A table was in the middle and there sat dear old Crank and Hambone too, Murph with Benny. A card game was ongoing.

They looked so fine, quite normal, all in all.

All motion in the small room stopped upon her entrance. Cards were dropped and cigarettes forgotten in open mouthed shock.

“Holy shit -colonel?” Demarco didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, and his disbelieving horror over her appearance came through loud and clear in his greeting. She hadn’t seen him at the gate.

The same for Hambone’s face, one that had never bothered to be discreet in pleasant circumstances, much less in shocking ones like seeing a notorious superior officer come in looking about as battered as a body could get -although his torn cheek was one to talk. Crank recovered first, in his mild, stammering sort of way, glancing at the lean figure who still stood looking out the lone window.

“Well, if it isn’t Ain’t Pretty Brady.” Crank clapped uneasily, summoning her nickname from basic just to cut the tension, it served to startle John.

He turned from the window abruptly, blank faced and unblinking as he realized the sister he had been watching for had already arrived. If their ole nan from the motherland had suddenly materialized before him he could have hardly looked more haunted or aghast, wide fringed fox eyes and that straight fold of a mouth -always so very held together, her little brother. Even after his third belly landing.

But those startled unblinking eyes...

Ida wanted to tell him to blink, that it was all alright now, that they were both alive and that it was good enough, it had to be. But she seemed to have fully lost all power over her throbbing cheek at last, she could feel her lips move in a motion she realized with supreme panic was likely a wobble of emotion. She ripped her aviators off, as if seeing her eyes might help his to come alive.

“John John?” she croaked in greeting, oblivious of the childish endearment tumbling off her lips in a room full of soldiers. If it were something their family was in the habit of doing, Ida Brady might have rushed him like Maureen did her pilot, or held out her own hand to be held, asked for a gesture from him -after what she’d gone through, surely it couldn’t have been weakness to want a clap on the shoulder, a flick to the bicep, a little “well done” for staying alive.

But she just stood there and watched him clock her shame. She could feel her swollen lip splitting in real time as the swelling and incessant trembling tore the taut skin apart, they’d passed around a single canteen in processing and it wasn’t enough, the walls of her throat felt collapsed together. Maybe she should have asked for a mirror first, maybe Cleven or Kendeigh or Smith should have told her she’d bring a whole room to a frozen standstill by her looks alone. They’d seen her at the gate -were these meager lightbulbs really so much more illuminating?

“Eye-eye.” Johnny let it out in a breathy rush as if he’d suddenly come to, and then he was in front of her, hands cradling the sides of her neck, thumbs hooked gently under her bruised jaw. A calloused pad swiped away the ticklish trickle of blood sliding the crease of her mouth.

Eye eye -his onetime baby babble for Ida, and she’d never let him forget it.

She could have wept at the useless sentimentality of it, of the gentle familiarity of familial hands, at the seething loyalty storming across his face.

“The fuck did they do?” he articulated at last, voice gravelly as shit but also reminiscent of the squeaky olden days when his castrato role suddenly no longer served one Sunday in choir.

“You’ve got legs.” she answered instead, sounding maniacal in her happiness.

He looked at her like she’d gone fully crazy as well as beat, “Yeah? Yeah I do.”

“They said, they said you didn’t.” she chuckled, a bizarre merriment trying to take hold in her relief, “During interrogation, that bespectacled cunt told me you had your legs crushed when you crashed.”

“No? No- no I jumped.” He insisted, then let go of her face to step back and gesture to two fit legs, as long and lanky as she remembered, as long and lanky as her own. “I jumped, I’m fine. They told you that?”

“Yeah.” Ida said, “Told me the longer I didn’t comply the longer you were without medical attention. I -I’ve been so…uneasy…about you.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated, hands back on her shoulders and she was grateful for it despite the bruises he was gripping, grateful for the way he kept touching her like he was going to hold her together with his own two hands, same blood, same flesh, same memories, maybe whatever she’d lost he could supply back like a blood donation. “Those sons of bitches.” he cursed them.

“Plasma for planes.” she agreed.

He kept looking at her, at her cheek and at her ragged hair and at the missing buttons, “You didn’t tell them anything did you?” he suddenly asked, wide eyed. “You know i’d rather die than have you tell.”

Ida scoffed, and gave him a grin, the best one she could manage with her cheek and split lip, “What do you take me for, Johnny?”

“A cold hearted bitch, I hope.” he returned the small smile but his voice cracked, still that hint of something long gone and juvenile.

“That’s what their Lieutenant called me.” Ida confirmed, a little proud, and sensing a renewal of his inquiries, Ida chose to take the offensive and call out for a conspicuously absent Kendeigh, “Candy! Didn’t you want to tell Johnny about your charming admirer? The Lieutenant?”

Kendeigh came round the doorway hastily, her lips puffy and cheeks oddly red. Cleven followed after and matched her, and his blush did nothing but highlight those scars of his. “Brady.” Maureen greeted, boldly hugging Ida’s very stiff brother without care —due to his red cheeks and rigid shoulders Ida concluded Cleven had given his own inner-relations talk to the men—, “Yes, I wanted to -oh hello Crank, Benny you son of gun- wanted to tell y'all about my ticket outta here -hell Hambone, how’d you manage to get uglier? -see my integrator, he found me fairly fetching. I think one of these days he’s gonna roll up in his shiny car and take me away from here and you’re all gonna wish you’d taken time to learn a little know-how about Alligators and their hibernation tactics in the winter. He was enthralled.”

There was an awkward silence hanging in the room, Crank grimaced a smile out of sheer generosity of heart and Benny Demarco still sat with his cigarette neglected on his open lip. Cleven, used to her preening brazness kept a tight lip, though a thousand questions seemed to swirl in his eyes.

“He the one who stood on your hands?” John Brady asked her without hesitancy.

Maureen whirled round then, comedy hour over and an angry flush creeping up her neck at his directness. “No.” she snapped. “Can’t some of them be alright?”

“A German’s a German.” he countered.

“There’s Fitzs and then there’s Johanns.” she disagreed nebulously and only Ida got her reference.

“And a shower is a shower,” Ida butted in before this became an experiment in an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force “which we need, badly. We’re…filthy.”

“We’ve got working sinks, trough sinks.” Cleven clarified with an apologetic look as if it were his fault the showers only ran once a week and poorly at that, and the water they had was frigid already in autumn.

“Water is water.” Ida reasoned in return, wondering when Johnny was going to finally let go of her arm.

“We’ll clear it out for ya.” Cleven said.

“And we’ll guard the entrance.” John added emphatically.

“Thanks.” Ida muttured, “Some of us could use to mend our uniforms.” she added, refusing to blanch at the subtle inventory of her jagged tears and crusted blood being made by every man in the room.

Maureen at least had her jacket intact. Her cap, too.

“Here, you can have my trousers while I stitch yours.” her John decided and was unbuckling his belt before she even registered the hand gone from her shoulder.

“What?” Ida balked, “You’re going to go ‘round in your skivvies?”

“Not as uncommon around here as you’d think, Ida.” Gale said, a small smile on his face. “I’m afraid order and decorum has gone to shit without you.”

“Well I’m here now.” she replied sternly but didn’t stop Johnny as he stripped.

“And so am I.” Kendeigh grinned and all Ida could do was to bless the saints for having let only one terror into the camp, were Bucky Egan to be here too, things would become intolerably lax. As soon as she thought it she repented it, sending up a prayer for the poor, absent bastard.

“Say Benny, you’re shorter, can I have your pants?” Maureen pleaded.

“Why mine?” Demarco protested, only offended at the height implication.

“Because Cleven’s too tall and I’ve already been in his pants.”

“Maureen!”

“Ida, order somebody to give me their pants.”

“You can have mine.” Crank offered kindly, and then stood up and bashfully began to unlayer. It left him in skivvies, a snuggly sweater and his flight jacket.

“It’s a good look, Crank,” Maureen grinned at the finished product as he handed the trousers over. “I’m seeing you in a different light.”

“Maureen!”

“Just sayin-“

“Take the pants with you to the washroom!” Brady interjected desperately as Maureen looked ready to strip right here and now. “Jesus, Kendeigh.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Maureen ribbed him, out for blood in her tired state and if she couldn’t have that of the Germans she would of her friends’.

“Alright let’s - let’s settle down.” Gale implored, a tired expression firmly etched onto his face and Ida herself considered giving up on the wash altogether and tumbling into the available bunk to court the oblivion of sleep. Were it only blood and dirt she just might, her usual tidiness be damned.

As it was -it was, there was…the filth was so much worse.

And if Ida thought on it too long she’d go mad and want to pour boiling lye on herself to wash herself clean and to kill the shame of it. She’d have to scrub the pants before she gave them to Johnny to be mended, it was bad enough for a brother to see the blood and busted seams.

“Yes, settle down for God’s sake.” she echoed Cleven, and something about her hoarse voice compelled Maureen to temper herself more than any direct order could. “A wash, come on, let’s get the girls. Oh and one more thing, Cleven-“ Ida turned to Gale and found him alert, eager to help. She was afraid she was only setting him up for failure but she had to make an effort to find those “remedies” she’d promised Sanchez. “There any lemons around?”

The incredulous look on his face suggested he thought she knew better, but he was ever polite in his reply, “No, colonel. No lemons.”

“Mm. Nutmeg?” she tried to recall each wicked trick she’d heard condemned when a girl got herself in the family way without the needed family in place.

“No, no nutmeg.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing but potatoes and cigarettes, ma’am. Do you- why?” he asked.

“Nothing.” she assured, “Just, a hot toddy sounds good right about now. You know?”

“Uh,” he floundered, half in suspicion and half in genuine confusion, “never had one.”

“Well then,” she grinned as she passed him, “that’s something to add to our to-do list for when this is all over. Jameson, though, none of that Kentucky stuff.”

“Yes ma’am.” his tone was vacant, smiling concern brittle, “You uh, you alright, Colonel?”

Ida gave him a withering look and then Gale too, had cause to be repentant.

“Come on Kendeigh, let's get the rest.” Ida gestured as she followed Gale back into the hall, aware of Johnny’s eyes still on her, still taking stock, “They better not be in bunks without a wash. Come on, showers, everyone! Out, come on out. You can sleep afterwards. Out! Would one of you be so kind as to wake us up in time for roll call?” she inquired of the male officers straggling behind her in the hall.

“Course! Yeah, for sure.” about five offers went up.

“You wake Me up.” she clarified coming to a full stop, wary of the enthusiasm, “I’ll wake up the rest.”

“I’ll get you up.” Her John said.

He’d probably sit and watch her sleep, too, needle and torn pants in hand, like a creepy little owl but that was one of those things she figured make or break a family, you either find it endearing you have a brother who rarely blinks or you go mad. Today, after all of it, she didn’t mind having a guardian Angel. Or a watchdog. Speaking of-

“Hey,” she asked him, “you two flew out together, where’s Bucky?”

But no one had an answer for that, not even Little John.

💋Hope you enjoyed AND REMEMBER -prompts are now open.

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#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota oc #Intergrated au #those who can #john egan #john brady #gale cleven #benny demarco #gale cleven x oc #john egan x oc #john brady x oc #Maureen Kendeigh #Ida Brady #Tallulah Smith

[lilac-5ky]

The Party (Satoru x Fem!Reader)

Plot: You decide to surprise your boyfriend on his birthday

Tags: Birthday fluff, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Shibuya incident?What Shibuya incident? (year is 2018), Established Relationship, Gojo Senpai, Satoru being the adorable menace everyone loves, SO. MANY. CHARACTERS. MAKING. APPEARANCES, feels like an actual jjk ep at this point, (fic deteriorates a bit over the latter part as my mental health does, writing until 6 am is exhausting, i know im late but spare me)

Word Count: Slightly under 9k.

A/N: Happy late Birthday, my love 💙💙💙

Masterlist | Requests | AO3

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost there—watch your step!” You warn, only to lose your footing a second later as you smash head first into your boyfriend’s back.

There is no way Satoru doesn’t know where the two of you are headed. Even with his technique supposedly turned off and your shaky hands concealing his curious eyes, all the things that make Jujutsu Tech into the place that raised generations of sorcerers (yours, included) continue to exist, bearing witness to his intentionally dumb guesses.

“Is it the beach? Are you taking me to see the ocean?” Satoru excites. “Aw, baby! You should have told me so; I would have brought my swimming trunks with! Although, I hafta say swimming in December is probably a bad idea, my nipples will freeze and fall right off. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

A sigh evades your lips, expelled as a little white cloud of frustration. On second thought, his mouth was what needed to be covered. Preferably stitched.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we aren’t going to the beach”—aw, shoot—“and your nipples get to live another day.” Your teeth chatter. Tiptoeing behind him with upstretched arms is already hard on its own. Doing so in the cold is purely exhausting.

You lose count of how many torii gates you cross, the joint click of your shoes switching to an uncoordinated thump as you go from traversing cobblestone paths to climbing an endless uphill of stairs, your stroll, again, feeling like part of a survival show. Curse Master Tengen. They might have only been responsible for the barriers, though in your scare, that doesn’t stop you from holding them accountable.

We are going to die.

Or more like you are going to die, considering Satoru’s already secured himself a life net in the form of your poor broken-to-be bones, and that’s the best case scenario you can hope for, the worst being having to repeat your ascension from the bottom step up.

“Then, are we visiting Himeji Castle?” Satoru continues, the frigid temperature not enough to crack his spirit. “Because I know the single best place for Tama Tsubaki. So fragrant, so elegant, so deliciously sweet! You haven’t been to Himeji before, have you? It’s also known for its excellent leather craftsmanship. Last time I went there, they had these insanely pretty wallets with—”

“N-no!” You yelp, voice as strained as if you’re walking on a tightrope. Shivering, “Wouldn’t you have noticed if I took you on a 4-hour road trip?”

“But time always moves so fast when I’m with you.” He coos in response, his tone serious when he asks, “Wanna take a break? Promise to keep my eyes closed till we reach the top. And after that too, if you want.”

Silky lashes map out the inside of your palms as they flutter against them, sweet little butterfly kisses that convince you to withdraw your hands. After all, you’d hate for his birthday to be stained with blood.

Not yours, at least.

“If you dare open them, I’ll kill you.”

“How scary!” Satoru captures your frozen hand and slips it in his coat’s pocket with far too great precision for someone with impaired vision. You don’t complain. Not even when he makes you bump into every single step on your way up, giggling to himself, until, as promised, you reach the summit and he lets go for you to assume your previous positions.

“I don’t”—pant—“miss”—pant—“walking this w-walk.” You muster in between labored breaths, palms on your knees as you crouch forward like an elderly lady with chronic back pain. “Wh-what are you smiling for?”

“Nooooooothing!” Satoru chirps, soft dimples carving hard into his milky complexion. “Just takes me back to the time when you still called me Gojo Senpai is all.”

Your youth comes playing in your head like an old cassette forced to rewind, bittersweet recollections sending you on a sudden trip down memory lane.

You met Satoru at the peak of spring and fell in love with him over the course of fall—a swirl of autumn leaves coloring the currently naked maple trees red. Muddy soles and uniforms soggy from the rain. Chasing after an umbrella you agreed to share and hopscotching across shallow puddles. Laughing louder than the pending storm.

But before that, bickering. So much bickering that continuously tested the patience of those around you, arguments over video games escorting you to morning assembly, and plans to catch new movie releases sealing your goodbyes.

The bitterness of Shoko’s cigarettes and the promise to never smoke again. Arcades and electronics in Akihabara. Karaoke and conveyor belt sushi in Shibuya. Getting a stranger to buy you your first beer and puking your guts outside a convenience store in Shinjuku. The promise to never drink again.

Moon-viewing festival. The unforgettable sight of him in a yukata, your heart multiplying itself into your eyes. Stolen glances and not-so-accidental nudges. Your first kiss tasting of melon soda, your second burning faster than the wick of his sparkler. Another kind of promise.

The giddiness of first love filters the film pink. Five-minute dates behind the old gym in flash forward. Late-night expeditions to each other’s dorms. Your loss of innocence overshadowed by the sudden loss of Haibara. Tears that threaten to spill out of the sequence. Suguru’s betrayal. The strength to move forward.

You’ve come a long way since the days you cheekily called him Gojo Senpai without a care in the world, and even though tragedy managed to forever sully them, standing here with him now makes it worth the pain. Given the chance, you’d do it all over again.

Rolling the cricks around your neck and shoulders, you walk up to Satoru, a tug at the lowest hanging tuft of hair signaling for him to meet your height. Knees bent. Eyes still closed. Lips still curled. Features so undeniably beautiful at 29 as they were at 17.

“Don’t move.” You mumble, smiling softly as you watch him pucker his lips in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, you fish out a pair of rectangular shades from inside your pocket and place them over the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s go before we get scolded for being late again.” Your hand steals his this time around, ushering him forward. A speckle of heat shooting from your fingers to your cheeks. “I trust you not to spoil your own surprise, Gojo Senpai.”

You are less than thirty steps away from your destination when, without a warning, the man behind you stops moving, forcing you to halt with him.

“What is it?” You ask, your body reeled closer to his from the bind of your fingers. “If you’re gonna ask whether I’m taking you to Laputa, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m still figuring out the coordinates.”

“That’s not it.” He huffs a chuckle against your knuckles, tenderly brushing them against his cheek. “But drop a pin when you do. Always wanted to take a nap in that fluffy flower bed. I’m sure it tastes fluffy too, just like whipped cream.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You return, a yawn coaxed at the mention of napping. “So, what is it? Why did we stop?”

“I’m cold.”

“Well, so am I, but we really are close this time. If you just—”

“You should kiss me.” Satoru announces with solemnity better befitting a declaration of war. He realizes that himself, bringing his free hand to ruffle the hair on the back of his skull. Awkwardly. Ears tinged red. Cutely. “That would warm me up.”

“Is that your excuse?” You ask, chapped lips rubbing together. Your heartbeat felt in your throat. You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not when you’ve known each other for the better part of your lives. It’s not normal. You don’t think you are.

“Nope.” He balances things out with a boyish smile that doesn’t make things any better for the lovesick teenage girl residing in your heart. She doesn’t know any better but to fawn over it. “My excuse is that we haven’t kissed here before. We’ve kissed there,” you follow his pointer, first to a bench made of stone and then to a blind spot behind some shrubs, “and there—many times there, heh, but not here. So we should kiss.” He reasons with a simplistic, nearly childish mindset. One you can’t quite argue against.

Until his spell breaks on you rather unceremoniously.

“I thought your eyes were closed!”

“Well, they were, but then I—hah, stop pullin’ like that—started missing your pretty face too much. Can’t deny me the simple joys in life, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “C’mon, just one kiss. Then we can meet with Yuji and the others. Promise I’ll act extra surprised!”

“Y-you knew?” Your eyes widen.

“I’ve known for about a week now? Heard you two talking on the phone, plus the kids asked to be put on cleaning duty when they usually leave everything to Megumi. Then a ton of chairs started to go missing, and—”

You barely bother listening to the rest, too caught up in your thoughts for Satoru’s detailed explanation of where it all went wrong to matter. Every year without exception—from your 16th birthday party-for-two in that tiny storage room you were accidentally locked in together to last year’s all-out murder mystery dinner party—he’s managed to sweep you off your feet, and yet you can’t throw him one party without it being spoiled.

You aren’t a planner. You know that. You know, but somehow you hoped this year would be different. That, twelve years after his insistence to spend his birthday in your company alone took root, (“Why would I want to spend this day with anyone other than you, angel? We have tons of fun together, don’t we? Just me and my special girl. Speaking of, any special requests for your birthday? I have some ideas myself, hehe~”) and one year after he stopped waiting for an apparition to show up and celebrate with him, he’d allow himself to bask in the appreciation of the living.

“Are you mad?”

The buzz of his voice quiets down, the paleness of a winter morning dawning beneath snowy lashes as he peers at you from above the rim of his sunglasses. Snowflakes of wonder stirring in his irises that contain them like two perfect snow globes, trapped in them, an ageless moment of the past.

“I’m relieved.” Satoru whispers, so faintly you almost miss it.

“Re…lieved?”

“You brought everyone here, right?” You nod. “Without blackmailing anyone?”

“Just Nanami.” You admit. “And Ijichi—Shoko promised to take him out for drinks if he came.”

“That’s good.” His lips pull into a smile warm enough to thaw your worries. “Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of my own birthday.”

“I’ve noticed,” you interrupt. “You aren’t the only one perceptive here, Mister Six-Eyes.”

He gives you a funny look, creases forming over his brow as an imaginary zipper is drawn across the corners of his lips.

You unzip it. “Please continue, Great Gojo Senpai.”

His eyes light up. Satoru isn’t one for honorifics, yet hearing you address him as such makes the lovesick teenage boy in his heart shudder with excitement.

“You know what birthday I got the biggest haul for?” A shake of your head prompts him to continue. “Seventh.” Figures, you add. He nods. “Wanna know what they got me? A Hokusai painting. You know. One of those wavy ones.” Only he would ever refer to a Japanese classic that way. “But seven-year-old kids don’t care about dead people’s paintings or Shinto shrine visits. They want adventure, balloons, and luscious Gâteau au Chocolat. The new Street Fighter game, maybe.” His fingers snap together. “They want Laputa.”

You forget your hand is still in his until it’s given a light squeeze, Satoru nervously fiddling with your fingers while he mulls over what to say next.

“Bottom line is, birthdays with the clan suuuuuucked. And then, as I got older, I grew tall enough to outrun those stupid goons watching over me. So I’d run straight to Suguru’s house, drag him to the station, and from there, we’d go to that one pastry shop in Shinjuku and buy every cake on display. We’d eat till we both got sick—hah, you wouldn’t think his stomach was this sensitive with all those curses he gobbled up, right?—and then a few years later we met Shoko, and she’d put out her cigarette on my share.” He hisses like a distressed cat. “Then we met you”—another squeeze—“and those were the best birthdays of my life. Back when we were all together.”

“Satoru—”

“I didn’t think I could have that again.” He cuts you off. “But you said you got everyone together, and while some of us are no longer here, a lot are. This is good. You did well. I’m relieved, really. I’m happy.”

By the time Satoru finishes talking, you find yourself at a loss for words, blankly staring at his unaffected expression. It’s easy to forget how vulnerable he can be in those rare outbursts of sincerity; easy to forget that the one branded as the strongest is a person who cries and breaks too, and even easier to let yourself be deceived by that happy-go-lucky attitude. But as a smile begins to take shape upon your features, you can see where he’s coming from.

You are relieved.

“What are you smiling for?” Satoru asks in the same manner you did earlier.

“Nooooooothing!” You shamelessly steal his line. “Just thinking about the sorry look on your face when you realize there’s no chocolate cake.”

“You evil witch!” He proclaims, mouth hanging slack and forefinger pointing in accusation. “Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t buy candles either!”

“Actually…”

You take hold of his finger before he can protest any further. Not that he wants to when both his hands are enveloped in the warmth of your smaller ones, childishly swinging by your sides. Back and forth. Up and down. Round and round. Arms overlapping as you both step closer, chuckling at a joke only your eyes seem to know.

“About that kiss.” You begin, laughing again at the small, exasperated mhm your boyfriend lets out, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the high neck of his sweater. “Are you still feeling cold?”

“So cold.” Satoru wiggles his shoulders as if he’s truly shivering. “Warm me up before the cold hand of death takes me away. Pleaseeeee.”

You aren’t one to deny him. Tiptoeing forward, you crane your neck so you can reach higher, while he bends his knees to shorten himself, meeting you halfway. Heavy breaths are shared as your noses brush together. The subtle notes of bergamot on his clothes blending with the wintry crisp in the atmosphere. Eagerness tugging at his bottom lip.

You might not be one to deny him, but you definitely are the type to tease him.

“Why don’t you do it? Why should I be the one to kiss you?”

“Wha—because I asked you!” Satoru quips.

“And?”

“And I have Senpai rights. Plus you didn’t pay boyfriend tax this morning, and come think of it, you didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday either!” He gasps like he only realized that just now. He builds his entire case around it. “Birthday Boy demands it. You have no choice but to give in or you’ll be cursed for your next seven birthdays!”

“But I thought you didn’t like your own birthday.”

“Baby!” Satoru finally breaks, his voice reduced to a high-pitched whine. “Even so, you can’t be mean to me on my own birthd—”

His lips are warmer than yours when you nullify the distance, conveying the softness and fruitiness of your stolen chapstick. A smirk is written on them, bitten away as you drag his hands closer to your body, foreheads bumping together and sunglasses nearly slipping from his nose. He giggles into your mouth, whispering how hot he finds it when you take the lead—moaning at the way your tongue presses against his, and disregarding the three sets of footsteps that enter the scene.

“Sensei!” A somewhat recognizable, albeit squeaky, voice calls out. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Way to ruin the surprise, Itadori!” Another, angrier, squeaky voice scolds.

“Idiot, you just said there was a surprise. And I told you both to go easy on the hellion.” The last of their group tries to deadpan, somehow sounding more ridiculous than his peers.

“Pft—F-Fushiguro!” Nobara and Yuji laugh in sync, too preoccupied with poking fun at their classmate to notice your form erasing itself from existence behind Satoru’s back as he turns around to face them.

“Yuji! Nobara! Megumiiiii!” His tone is colored with a falsetto when he addresses his favorite (target) student, prompting the duo to keep harassing him with countless pokes at his confetti-laced spikes.

Your plan to use poor Megumi’s torture as a decoy to flee the premises goes to waste as your hand is held out in the open, with Satoru showing you off to them like the big prize at the end of a wrestling match.

“Oh, future Mrs. Gojo Sensei!” Yuji is the first to acknowledge your presence; the effects of the gas are all but worn off as he timidly waves at you. “I didn’t know you were here! What brings you to school today?”

“That’s quite the title, Yuji. Told you to just—ugh!—call me by my first name.” You struggle to pull your wrist out of Satoru’s grasp. You lose. “Also, no need to keep playing charades. He knows.”

“You told him? Then what was all of this for?” Nobara comes forth, a pink balloon dramatically deflating in her hands.

“Actually, I figured it out myself! Aren’t you proud to have such a smart teach—”

“No!” Two out of three shout in unison. You almost do so yourself.

After their back and forth escalates into a full-blown debate on who’s more intelligent, Satoru or Megumi’s shikigami (the results to be announced on a future episode of Are You Smarter than a Toad?) and happy birthdays are wished, Yuji asks the one question you feared answering the most.

“Sensei? Miss Y/N? What were you doing out there in the cold?”

Their own curiosity beats Megumi and Nobara to the classroom as they stall their entrance, with Satoru being the first to hit the buzzer.

“You see, Yuji, when a man and a woman love each other very much, they—ahahouch! Love really does hurt! It hurts so badly!” He yelps as you stomp on his foot hard enough to cripple an average man.

“Don’t you dare use me as a test subject for the talk, Satoru!”

“What talk, darlin’?” He smiles coyly, not losing the chance to brag. “Oh, you mean the talk about how you fell victim to my charms and couldn’t wait till we were alone to kiss me? Guess I still got it, despite the extra candle on the cake.”

“Aww!”

“Eww!”

“Gross!”

The reactions vary.

“You’ll get another candle lit up in your memory if you keep spewing shit like this!” Your attempt to step on his shoe is countered by his technique.

“Hey, no cursing in front of my precious students!” Satoru chides. “We’re supposed to set an example for them, not taint their innocent souls!”

“Satoru!” With a tremendous roar, the door flies open, startling the three students to jump behind their teacher and you to follow suit.

Principle Yaga stands by the frame, his authoritative tone coursing through your body as it recalls every punishment he ever subjected you to. The soreness in your calves from running laps around school for being late. The dryness in your eyes after surviving one of his excruciating educational VHS tape sessions for being “cheeky” and the ache in your fingers from scrubbing the gym floors squeaky clean—courtesy of being caught sneaking back into the dorm with tousled hair in the dead of night.

You almost feel sorry for Satoru acting as the wavebreaker for the incoming tsunami, but then you remember how the majority of your crimes were incidentally committed in his name and wish him good luck. He deserves whatever earful he gets, possibly something along the lines of “Sixteen minutes late? Are you trying to break a world record?”

“You think Gojo Sensei will die?” Yuji whispers. “He’s at that age when a lot of celebrities die, right?”

“He’d better not! I didn’t bring any funeral wear with me.” Nobara answers back.

“Can’t you read the room?” Megumi rasps. “Plus, that’s the 27 Club you’re talking about. Gojo Sensei has outlived that.”

“Didn’t take you for a clubgoer, Fushiguro.” The two of them snicker, prompting Megumi to sigh as he again points out their idiocy.

“Principal Yaga!” Satoru bravely puts himself forward, your line of defense falling apart like a house of cards you’re made to support on your own. “Are you here to wish me a happy birthday? How thoughtful! Guess it’s true what they say: People mellow down with age.”

“Sixteen minutes late—”

The man’s mouth twitches furiously as an invisible countdown starts in all your heads, none of you expecting the situation to simmer down before it boils over.

“But I’ll let it slide this once. Happy birthday, Satoru. I’ve stopped hoping that the years bring you wisdom and fix your bad habits. It’s pointless; every year you turn more impudent than the year before,”—is that supposed to be a birthday wish or you getting kicks from throwing shade at me?—“but I wish they bring you happiness. I made this with you in mind. Hope it’s to your liking.”

You watch as Principal Yaga reveals a felt doll from behind his back, handing it to a repulsed Satoru, who makes no effort to conceal his personal feelings, let alone express gratitude.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to be?” He asks, shaking the doll so quickly you only catch a glimpse of its fluffy white tail and stitched black sunglasses—a cat?

“It’s you.” Its maker replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he has a name. Satoru, say hello to Catoru.”

Four of you share a look among yourselves, too stunned to say a thing until Satoru and his doll counterpart face you, the latter being held up by the scruff of his neck. Just like an actual cat.

“Do I look like this?” Satoru asks, and you all go quiet, with three hands simultaneously nudging you to represent them. Traitors!

“I mean, there are times when you do act like a cat—kinda?” Your voice is pinched up, hands moving frantically to dispute your words as your boyfriend’s face turns sourer than umeboshi. “But you look ten times—no, a hundred times more handsome! I promise! If anything, you resemble a—uh, Turkish Angora? Those are super beautiful!”

“You’d better get along.” Yaga warns. “I designed Catoru with a sweet tooth like you.”

“I don’t want a little mochi thief in my house!”

Yaga marches back into class without waiting to hear Satoru’s concerns about the impending depletion of his secret mochi stash. The kids tail after him, leaving you to comfort Satoru with a gentle pat on his back. “Let’s go inside, mm?”

The atmosphere inside the classroom is significantly more promising than what Yuji showed you on FaceTime this morning. All desks are pulled to the side in a rough T formation, with the spread of food you spent two nights making carefully put in order, from platters full of golden-crusted corn dogs and crispy chicken fingers to dainty cupcakes decorated with Konpeito candy and colorful mochi of every filling you could think of. Inumaki serves bar, and you’re pleased to see people returning for seconds, with Yuji waving his hands while praising your popping candy cake poppers to his taciturn upperclassman.

Balloons hang near the ceiling—a flag garland dangling from one end of the blackboard to the other. A gigantic birthday message spans across the surface, with smaller wishes sprinkled in abundance, some consisting of mere congratulations and others expressed with heartfelt emotion. You can easily guess who wrote what based on handwriting alone; Megumi’s by far the tidiest.

You knew leaving the decorations to Nobara was a smart choice. She knows it too. She doesn’t waste the chance to boast to Maki about it, the older girl twirling a bouquet made of lollipops between her fingers while gazing at the drifting clouds outside the window.

Satoru was right. This is good. You have every reason to be proud, too.

In the far back of the room, the adults have struck up a conversation with Panda, who snaps a picture of your entrance. The two party poopers—Ijichi and Nanami—look up from their quiet exchange.

“Satoru! You came!” Principal Yaga’s pride and joy steps forward with open arms, a party hat pulled taut between his round ears. “Congratulations on your birthday,” says Panda, planting two identical party hats on your heads. “Let me take a picture of the two of you. Couldn’t get an angle from back there.”

Your shoulders get squeezed as Satoru smooshes your faces together, the pointy tip of his hat nearly taking your eye out when he tries to steal a kiss from your cheek. You squint—and snap!

“Hey, can you take another? I think I wasn’t looking straight.”

“No do-overs!” Satoru interferes before Panda can even open his mouth. “Don’t worry! Getting a bad picture of you is impossible when you look perfect at any given time. Right, Panda?”

His former student glances down at the camera, letting out the exact same sound your computer makes when a Windows program crashes, and then rushing to mask it with a hearty chortle.

“Of course, Satoru! You got very lucky; Y/N is as beautiful as she is kind-hearted.” He shows you a grin that’s mostly teeth. “You know, she worked really hard for this party. We barely did anything ourselves.”

Not true; you all did your part…

Your eye is endangered once more, with his lips finding their target this time around. “That’s my vanilla caramel drizzle cupcake muffin baumkuchen pie to ya!”

That’s half your macchiato and half your bakery order, you argue silently.

“Shame Yuta couldn’t make it.” Panda continues. “Heard he’s down with a cold, though he did send you his gift via Maki.” A fuzzy thumb points at the closet-turned-gift-depository, where various bags and packages are stacked into a pyramid. “Anyway. I’ll let the two of you mingle. Come over if ya want more pictures of you taken. Got lots of props too.”

Your eyes follow as he returns to his post, spotting Shoko experimenting with a pair of groucho glasses. Nanami shakes his head disapprovingly, leaning back into his chair while Ijichi’s stutter is visible from where you and Satoru stand.

You glance up at him, a default smile plastered on his lips. Unreadable to others, but painfully obvious to you. The face he’s searching for is not among those present.

“Everyone seems to be having fun.” Satoru points out.

“Y-yeah.” You croak.

“Can’t believe you got everything down. Class looks like it did back then. Even the wobbly pom-pom on the party hats.” He squeezes the one on your head. “That caught me off guard.”

“Well, it would’ve been a greater surprise if you didn’t eavesdrop on my private phone calls.”

“That ain’t on me, sweets.” He whisks your hand into his and drags you onward. “Not my fault I was born with heightened senses. Better get used to it; our kids will probably take after me in that aspect.”

You shrug his comment off, watching as Satoru stows the cat away in the closet and dramatically dusts his hands off. “Another great addition to the world’s creepiest collection.” He grumbles.

“But Catoru is the cutest so far!” You object.

He is about to answer when a sound akin to that of someone choking has you both turning toward the makeshift buffet where Ijichi is downing water straight from the jug, his sunken cheeks a scarlet shade of red.

“Shit! He must’ve discovered the jalapeno poppers.” You bite your lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat responsible.

“Nice job!”

“It wasn’t my intention!”

Your plea of innocence doesn’t resonate with Satoru, who gives you a thumbs up before forming a cone around his mouth and shouting at Ijichi—chuckling at the hurried way the man searches for an escape between chairs and people.

“Ijichi! Oi, Ijichi! I-ji-chi! Over here! Come wish me a happy birthday!” He waves his arms around like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, declaring—unlike Tom Hanks—that he’s coming to him instead.

“Don’t go around terrorizing people, ‘Toru.” Your voice has him stopping his march to peck your lips.

“Promise I’ll be a good boy. You’re free to punish me if I’m not.” He smirks, finger-gunning you all the while stepping backwards in slow motion.

“You never are!”

“Hmm, that’s only because I’m the best. And you’d better prepare a handsome reward for when we get home, ‘cause the best always wins.” A flirtatious wink makes you question how many people listened in on your exchange, praying that the answer is none.

You take advantage of Satoru’s absence to pay a visit to your old friends, mentally counting the days since the last time you all gathered up. It’s been way too long—the beer you’d promised to catch up over turned into a distant fantasy.

“Gonna get yourself nauseous if you keep staring at that whirlpool, Shoko Senpai.” You plop down on the closest vacant chair, the bored brunette humming without lifting her eyes from the lemonade swirling inside her cup.

“If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into you.” She states, managing to sound both mesmerized and disinterested at the same time.

“And? Seen anything yet?” You lean closer.

She retires with a sigh, dark circles looming below her hazelnut eyes. “Nothing yet.”

“How about now?”

Pulling your trump card—aka one of those miniature vodka bottles you specifically brought with her in mind—from your pocket, you pour a generous amount into her drink, reminiscing about the time she accidentally spiked Satoru’s soda and had him swimming on the floor.

It takes one sip for Shoko to liven up, a sudden jolt of energy coursing through her veins as she reaches out for the bottle.

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

You chuckle. “Big praise coming from someone who actually saves lives.”

“Big words coming from people who openly drink in front of underage students.” The man to your left observes, absentmindedly picking at the tentacles of the octopus sausage on his plate.

“Kento! You made it!” You tip from one side of your chair to the other, arms dangling empty as he dodges your hug. “Having fun?”

“Please stop acting like him. I know the years in his company have caused your twisted personalities to merge, but the world is already wretched enough with one Gojo Satoru around.” He munches on the “good part” of the dissected octopus, discarding the tentacles inside a carefully folded napkin.

“But to answer your question, whether I’d rather spend my Friday afternoon explaining to everyone I know that the man in the picture dancing inappropriately with half-naked models in Ibiza isn’t me but a look-alike or sitting here, chaperoning a bunch of kids and making sure no one kills themselves, then yes. It’s not as horrible as I expected. And you’re as good of a cook as I remembered.” He wipes his mouth. “But I’m still clocking out at 7 sharp.”

“Come on! I did what I had to do to get you here!” You giggle, experiencing a little of the same rush Satoru feels when he’s poking fun at Ijichi. Oh no. “I am glad you’re enjoying the food, at least!”

A sound viler than any curse’s wail pierces through your ears as a TV cart is dragged into the room. You recognize it as Yaga’s old torture device—those five-hour black and white tapes gleaming menacingly on the lower shelves, with an unknown machine piled atop the cassette player. You aren’t sure what its purpose is until Yuji connects a microphone to it.

“Everyone—ah, ah, ah! Can you hear me?” The boy dabs a palm against the microphone, sounding loud and clear across the room. “Fushiguro, can you hear me? Fushiguro—ah, ah, ah!” The last of his ah’s interrupted by Megumi’s calling him out in front of their live audience.

“Everyone, thank you for coming to Gojo Sensei’s birthday party! I’m Itadori Yuji, and I’m happy to have co-hosted this event with Miss Y/N.”

A couple of heads turn in your direction, Satoru’s among them. It’s easy to make out his silhouette when he dwarfs everyone around him—Principle Yaga on his side and an antsy Ijichi lurking behind them.

“I enrolled in this school a little over a semester ago by accident.” Yuji continues undeterred. “Back then, I didn’t know any more about curses than the next person. Not that I do now.” He scratches through his hair. “Honestly, it was a lot to stomach, especially the part where I get to share my body with another. I was told I’d be better off dead, and I did die once. I was supposed to be dead, but then Gojo sensei gave me a choice, and I’m here because of that choice. More than a helping hand, he’s been a guiding light to me, and on behalf of all of us, thank you, and Happy Birthday!”He bows. “I hope you have a good one!”

Yuji holds out the microphone for Satoru, the two of them sharing a high five with an affectionate pat seeing the boy off.

“Thank you, Yuji, for this wonderful speech!” Satoru grins, evidently moved by his student’s words. “Everyoooooooooooone! Give it up for the man of the hour, the one and only, the most incredibly handsome and magnificently strong sorcerer known as Gooooooooooojo Saaaaatoruuuu!” His body twists in a pirouette, peace signs and heart signs flying everywhere as he lands with a finger pointing at where the imaginary camera would be.

Unsurprisingly, no one is impressed. Cricket sounds almost audible.

“Wow, okay. Tough crowd, I guess.” His lips comically jerk to one side of his face, his tone turning nasal before switching back. “I won’t bore you with individual thanks and other useless formality crap.”

He smirks at the way your mouth rounds a silent gasp. Nanami notices too, posing a question you shrug off.

“To cut it short: first-years! You’ve all proved yourselves as worthy sorcerers and worthier humans. As a reward, I’m proud to announce your reward in the form of a—c’mon guys, drum your desks a little!—luxurious, one of a kind, ten outta ten, uniquely planned field trip by moi!”

“Is it Paris? Are you taking us to Paris?” Nobara dreams out loud.

“Sensei! How about Universal Studio? I saw them post their newest churrito flavor on their webpage.”

“Can I sit this one out?” A gloomy murmur begs.

“Great thinking, Yuji! Unfortunately, Nobara, we won’t be going overseas this time, but, Megumi, you’ll definitely want to reconsider once you hear our destination, which iiiiiis—excitement is free, everyone!—Parque Espana!” Satoru claps for his suggestion.

Three dejected faces say pass in unison, with only Megumi daring to complain about Satoru taking him and Tsumiki to the theme park every second Sunday when the two were younger. You remember that. Some times you’d tag along, and you’d all grab ice cream while staring at that humongous roller coaster the kids were too short to ride.

Undefeated, Satoru directs his attention to the second-year students, the three of them loitering by the chip bowl. His tone turning grave, “Second years, I’m honestly very disappointed in all of you. In our two years of knowing each other, you never thought to throw your favorite teacher a party for his birthday. You’re lucky I don’t have the authority to drop you a grade, but still. You fail!”

“Fish Flakes!” Inumaki expresses his supposed disagreement.

“Huh? You never even told us when your birthday was because you didn’t want us knowing your real age, you blindfolded idiot!”

“Maki, not now!” Panda anxiously gets in her way. “Cool it!”

“You should have figured it out yourselves.” Satoru toots. “Moving forward! I’d like to give my special thanks to the moon of my life, my sun, and my stars.”—you knew watching Game of Thrones with him was a very bad idea—“Y/N! Come here, sweetie. Don’t be shy; everyone knows how much we love each other.

It almost feels like you have the limelight shining on you, with every person eagerly awaiting your response. You gulp hard, whispering so that only Nanami can hear. “You were right. Please save me.”

“What is it, Buttercup? You already have my heart, but if there’s anything you’d like for me to do, then now is the moment to say it.” Satoru smiles sweetly, his voice dripping with honey.

“Actually, there is. Can you put me down?” You kick your legs around while he hoists you up in bridal style, your unjust abduction having occurred in the blink of an eye.

“Anything and everything for you!” He kisses the top of your head, holding you close to him even after letting your feet touch the ground. “Alright, that’d be all! I hope everyone gets to have the time of their lives. Now, let’s get this party started!” He throws the microphone up in the air.

Nothing happens.

“I said, let’s get this party star—whatever.” Satoru gives up half-way through raising his arm again. “Yuji, play something fun!”

“On it!” Yuji salutes him, and the two of you walk away from the blackboard.

A faint sigh echoes behind you, its relief cut short as Satoru grabs the microphone once more. “Ah, right. Ijichi, I’ll see you in my office on Monday. I’d wear a headband if I were you.”

“I’ve c-committed a mortal sin, G-Gojo!” Ijichi struggles to say, uncertain of the crime he’s being accused of, yet hopeful for Satoru’s forgiveness.

“You are such a menace!” You throw a playful punch to his chest once he sits you on his lap, away from the eyes of people gathering around the karaoke machine, and close to Nanami, who departs with a disgusted scoff.

“You love me for it.” Satoru’s lips press softly against yours, incapable of hiding his smile when you pull his face in for another kiss, the tight squish of his arms making sure you’re going nowhere.

“I do.” You affirm, rubbing your nose on his. “I love you.”

“How much?” His eyes crinkle fondly.

“Hmm, like, a lot?” You giggle, your fingers absently brushing through the trimmed hair on the back of his skull. “Enough to spend half a lifetime by your side and still find you the most incredible person in all of creation.”

“Wanna spend the other half too?” His breath on your cheek colors your skin red, your eyes momentarily lost between shades of blue.

“Come back with a ring, Shit-toru.”

“That’s not the way you talk to your future husband!”

“He’s here? With us? Right now?” You gasp, frantically looking around, until Satoru forces you to face him with a thumb on your chin, his other hand squeezing an innocent touch around your thigh.

“Satoru!”

“Scared your future husband will see us?” He throws his head back, laughing at your panicked state. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight him for you. And win. After all, I am the strongest.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, he did it! He said the line with only—”you glance at your phone—“six hours left before the day ends, what an amazing record!”

A shrill screech fired from the other side of the room interrupts your banter, the microphone turning into a lethal weapon in Panda’s massive palms. The students appear to have divided themselves into couples, fighting over who gets to go first until Inumaki takes the initiative with a rap song—or, more accurately, sings over a rap song, as the only words in his roster revolve around onigiri ingredients that are mentioned nowhere in the lyrics.

“Stop hogging the mic!” Maki attempts to steal it, backing away as the boy teases to unzip his collar. She knows better than to push her limits while unarmed.

Panda still gets in the middle. For precaution, you assume.

“Reminds you of something?” Satoru comments on your riveted attention. “They’re just like us. How we once were. Young and full of dreams.”

“Nah. You were always a horny bastard.” You slap the inappropriately placed hand away before you get up and sit where Nanami was previously stationed. Poking your tongue at his devastated expression.

Conversation between the two of you is kept to a minimum after a different tune begins blasting from the speakers—Yuji and Megumi take over the stage with Takada-Chan’s most recent success, one of them performing the vocals to perfection while the other merely mumbles yeah’s whenever the song calls for it. Next are Nobara and Maki, the two girls belting out to an anthem of empowerment that has the boys in the room gulping uncomfortably among themselves.

The mood shifts completely when Yaga pours his soul into an 80’s power ballad, his raspy voice transforming into the smoothest velvet, complemented by Panda’s harmonies. Even Satoru praises his old teacher, cheering him on from the bleachers with a makeshift napkin-banner.

You don’t realize your boyfriend’s gone until you see him with the microphone in hand, bending the cable as he makes quick gestures for the floor to empty, performing what is possibly the cheesiest, most romantic love song ever written, and ushering you to join him once he drops to his knees—quite literally at your feet.

You ruffle his hair and shove his goofy expression away. No matter how charming his singing voice may be, he’ll never get you to sing in public. Similar to how he’ll never catch you admitting how loudly your heart beats in your chest, despite the fact that it’s written all over your face.

God, you hate this man. So much that part of you wishes you’d spent his birthday like you did every other year—tangled in his sheets and kissing till you cannot breathe.

As soon as the karaoke session ends, Megumi and Yuji exit the room to bring in the cake, with Satoru jumping them for a thorough inspection. The dessert is inspired by one of his favorite confections. Handmade mochi bites are spread evenly between three layers of fluffy strawberry cake, the entire enterprise covered in fine red bean paste and topped with vanilla buttercream, strawberry cutouts, and, of course, more mochi in a light pink shade to recreate the world’s largest daifuku.

You lost count of how many failed attempts it took to create your own recipe from scratch, but the look on Satoru’s face is better than any payment you could possibly ask. He struggles to find a word that describes his feelings—phenomenal being the one he ends up using. Definitely better than chocolate cake. Perhaps even on par with the legendary Laputa.

Everyone gathers anew for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, awkwardness sweeping through the crowd as, one by one, you come to the conclusion that there is no available lighter.

you search through your pockets for a lighter, finding none. Shoko’s unhealthy (and supposedly cut) habit comes in clutch, with the brunette handing Yuji the keys to her office. The boy sprints outside at full speed, idle chatter put on pause as the TV starts playing on its own, the song selection window traded for a relic of the past.

“Is this even working?” A young Shoko taps the camera, tilting her body at a curious angle. Short skirt rolling up.

“Probably not. That shit’s ancient, but feel free to test it! Maybe try showing it something funnier, like your pant—”

Horny bastard. Right on the money.

“Cut it off, Satoru.” A voice makes both you and present-day Satoru shudder, its owner taking the camera from their friend’s hand to shoot footage around the gym. “Yaga Sensei told us to use this to document the Goodwill Event, not film amateur gravure.” The frame shakes once more. “Looks good to me.”

“Pft, what’s the point?” Satoru flicks a pebble at the camera. “So he can make a quick buck out of me destroying those brats? The outcome’s already decided. Now turn this thing off. I wanna lay under the sun without some junk in my face.”

The camera zooms in on him splaying his limbs on the grass, possibly near the track field, based on the slight hint of red inside the green.

“The only junk in your face is your face itself.” Shoko deadpans, making him chase after her while Suguru continues filming them until they turn into a pair of flickering dots.

“These two.”

The world is turned upside down as a close-up of his bang takes over the screen. Realizing that himself, he pulls the camera further away, cat-like irises shining like pure amber under the sunny sky. You’ve missed their warmth.

“Preparation for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, Day 1.” He declares, and the screen goes black in an instant, white noise reigning over the space.

Your hand seeks Satoru’s on its own, the faint sound of his name dangling from your parted lips, both your breaths catching in your throats. He’s left gawking at the screen, reciprocating your touch with shaky fingers that try to anchor him to you. It’s safe to say this was not part of your plan.

“Weird. Thought it’d be one of those old workout tapes.” Nobara reveals herself as the culprit behind the incident, ejecting the tape back into its box and later standing with her hands pinned to her waist. “Gojo Sensei, I recognize you and Ieri, but who was that third person in the video? Bangs Guy.”

Out of everyone in the room, she’s the only one to have absolutely no information on Suguru. Aside from the adults, the second-years were all present during last year’s attack, and Megumi knows whatever has slipped from Satoru during his stay at the Gojo clan’s compound.

Nobody rushes to respond; all of you tuned in on Satoru even though only Shoko, Yaga, and you are directly gazing at him, his face contorted with a pained grimace he tries hard to disguise.

“Geto Suguru was—”

“My best friend.” Satoru grins at Principal Yaga’s attempt to help him, grasping your hand more confidently as he confronts the girl. “Geto Suguru is my best friend.”

“Huh. Guess there’s hope for everyone.” No one’s left with any courage to laugh at Nobara’s poor attempt at a joke. “Where is he now—”

“Senseiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” A voice gains volume as the door bursts open, Yuji pouring into the classroom with the lighter held over his head like it’s the Olympic flame. “I g-got th-the—” He tries to breathe, ending up only saying, “Fire. Wish. What. Miss?”

“Yuji!” Satoru makes you follow him to the door. “You’re right on time! And no, you didn’t miss anything. Just stories of the past.”

“Stories?” Yuji wipes the sweat off his forehead. Still very much exasperated. “But I…like stories.”

“I know you do.” Satoru’s eyes settle on yours, the clamor in his eyes hushing for the first time in years. “But birthday wishes are meant for a future that’s yet to be written.”

“Thank you!”

Appreciation falls from your lips as a long-drawn yawn, every second you spend huddled under the kotatsu’s warmth begging to lull you to sleep. Today was a long day. So long, it feels as if it spanned an entire lifetime.

Satoru plops down beside you, the neckline of his sweatshirt diving low over his collarbones as he chugs his share of hot cocoa. Yours remains untouched while you switch between the same two movie options, incapable of picking one over the other.

“What do you have for me?” He asks, running his fingers over the ceramic rim. A melodic string instrument-like sound is induced.

“Okay so. Got the cult classic Sixteen Candles, which we’ve probably watched more times than Molly Ringwald had to practice her lines for the role, and I also have La Boum, in case you’re feeling more adventurous, and I don’t know. Frenchy, maybe.”

“Hmm, I mean. When you phrase it like that…”He acts as if he’s seriously contemplating his choice, only to snatch the remote from your hand and choose La Boum. He smiles slyly, curling near your chest. “It’s what you obviously wanted to watch. And I always choose, so.”

“Forfeiting your birthday boy rights?” You hum, tenderly combing through his freshly washed white strands. He smells just like his cake, you think. “Be careful. There are still nine minutes left before your birthday’s over, and you’re robbed of your rights for an entire year. Think you can make it?”

“Will you be with me during those horrid days?” His voice turns muffled.

“Always. Now, before the movie starts and you ruin the fun with your excessive blabbing, how about you reach under the kotatsu for your gift?” You suggest, chuckling as his head lifts up, cerulean eyes shining with unfeigned surprise.

“Angel! You shouldn’t have!” Satoru beams whole as he drags the heavy box out, shaking it in an attempt to feel out its contents.

“You know that doesn’t work with me. C’mon. I’ll pause for you.”

He wastes no time to untie the light silver bow that ties the box together, taking, however, his sweet time to review each and every object placed within. Carefully, he lays everything out on the table, small gasps evading him at a constant and maturing into a full-on shriek as he spots that one rare Digimon trading card you bust your gut trying to purchase via private online auctions.

“I—um. I know it doesn’t sound too good ‘cause I’m your girlfriend and I’m supposed to know everything about you and what you want, but I really had no idea what to get for your birthday. So I decided to get you a bit of everything from your favorite things. You can blame me for weaponizing nostalgia later.”

You clear your throat with a quick sip of cocoa. Licking your lips, “Anyway. It’s really no biggie as you can see. I just bought off some trading cards, ported a few of your old favorite games to a current generation console—yes, Street Fighter included—and made you this silly beaded charm with our initials for your phone, since they are back in fashion.

“I know it’s not much, and you could buy those things at any given time, but—time is something you cannot buy, right? Your childhood, your youth. The so-called best years of your life. I wanted you to have that back, even if just for a day.”

It’s been minutes, and Satoru remains quizzically silent, to the point where the array of kisses aimed at your neck comes as a true ambush. You’re knocked to the floor, giggling and flailing while he shows you his affection in every way possible, kissing you, praising you, hugging you—loving you.

“H-Happy Birthday, Toru.” You repel his face enough to say. “Y-you know, a thank you would be nice to hear!”

“As if you don’t know what I’m about to say.” Satoru grins, holding your palms to his mouth. Kissing them one by one, repeatedly, and slowly. Multiple times each. “You are my childhood. And my youth. And the best years of my life—they are all you. Everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll live together.”

“How’s that for a thank you?” He chuckles, quickly breaking the tension with a final kiss on your nose. Perhaps the only part of you that’s not tinged red. “That being said…”

“You want to go for a quickie?” You sniffle against your will.

“See? You do know everything about me.” He reaches for the deck of cards with the swirly brown backside. “It’s time to duel!”

A/N: sorry for hastily written ending. had no time, oopsie!

#gojo x reader #gojo birthday #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru <3 #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader

[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together (pt 2)

afab!reader x Mike Schmidt

pt 1

WC: 3k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of intoxication, slow burn, mentions of child abuse, no use of y/n, aged up character

A/N: I want to apologize for any confusion the first chapter might have caused! This fic is a Mike Schmidt fic. It's just a slow burn/somewhat(?) of a love triangle and I thought adding Clapton would be funny. (plus I’m in love with him…) Before you read, just as a warning, this chapter gets pretty deep. 

Enjoy!

tags: @h3llo-k1tt @caminterrupted @jhutchismyl0verb0y

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It's been almost a month since you and Clapton's hookup. He's been texting you nonstop. Text after text floods in, and you ignore them all. You feel bad, but you’re too embarrassed to even face him. You sigh, flipping open to Clapton’s contact to read the new heap of texts.

U good?

Miss you. Hope that ur ok.

Wanna hang?

Helloooo?

Okay. Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of u.

You groan, slamming your phone back down on the bedside table. You enjoyed the night you two had, and it felt great at the time. But now you just feel like shit. Now all you think about is Mike, and how disgusted he was with you. While you’re thinking about Mike, you realize you haven’t seen or heard him in weeks. He’s been out of his apartment way more than usual, and you’re sure he's avoiding you. To be honest, you don’t blame him. If he pulled that on you, you’d up and leave.

You lay back down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on a movie, desperate to think of anything else but Mike or Clapton. Suddenly, you hear frantic knocking on your door. You reach for the remote and pause the TV. You sit silently for a minute, wondering if you were hearing things. Not only is it 8 pm on a Saturday, but you also aren’t expecting any guests. Who could possibly be knocking on your door? As you're about to un-pause the TV, more knocks echo and bounce off the walls.

You slowly get up from the couch, and wearily walk over to the door. You shift to the balls of your feet, trying to peer through the peephole. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as all you see is the top of someone's head. You slowly wrap your hand along the cold metal of the knob, slowly turning it open. Your eyes widen as you see Abby on the other side.

Her face lights up, her eyes practically glowing. She squeals, bolting over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist.  “Abby!” You scream, pulling her into you.

“I missed you so much! Mike said you moved away to your castle to be a princess!” You scoff inwardly, Mike’s lie making you despise him even more. "Where is your castle, by the way?" You glance down at her, ready to make up some insane lie. Before you get the chance, you look to your left, seeing Mike skirt around the corner, bee-lining towards you. He’s panting, his face red. “Shit- I’m... Sorry. She’s so fast.” You plaster a sickly sweet smile on your face, ensuring Abby doesn’t notice the hostility between you.

Mike takes Abby’s hands, prying her off you. “Heyy! I want to play with her! Please! Please, Mike!” She whines, giving Mike her best puppy eyes. He looks up at you, a guilty look falling over his features. He shrugs at you, waiting for your response. “Okay, come in!” You say, focusing on the little girl in front of you instead of Mike. The two of them walk into your apartment, Mike clearly not wanting her to be alone with you. You give him a dirty look and he rolls his eyes. Luckily, Abby’s too focused on your decor to notice or even care.

She runs around your apartment, oohing and ahhing at every fuzzy pillow and every cute decoration lining your shelves. She opens your bedroom door, and you think she’s about to explode. She looks back at you, her eyes wide. “You can go in.” You say, giggling as she wastes no time to roll around in all the stuffed animals you still keep on your bed. You quickly follow behind her, flinging yourself in the pile. Mike leans against the door frame, smiling as he watches you both stand up and jump up and down the bed. Abby stops, her eyes catching on something on your bedside table. She jumps down, her feet landing on the plush carpet. She grabs a heart locket off your bedside table, holding it up to the light. “Woah! This is so pretty!”

You immediately freeze, your face almost lighting on fire. You quickly grab it out of her hands, stuffing it in a drawer. “Mhm, so pretty! Why don’t we get out of the bedroom?” You steer her out of the room, sliding around Mike. You loved her with all your being, but her lack of an attention span seemed like it was out to get you.

As Abby sits down on the couch, you look over at Mike. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are furrowed. He glances back into your room, the locket he got you for your 3rd anniversary haphazardly hanging out of the drawer. You both stare at each other for what feels like forever. 

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Mike opens your front door, not even bothering to announce his arrival. He sits down next to you, a huge smile on his face. “What?” You mirror his smile, confused as to what he might be so excited about. “Okay, I know our anniversary isn't for a few days but I- I just couldn’t wait. I'm sorry it's cheap, I couldn’t afford much.” He says, awkwardly. 

He reaches into his hoodie pocket, taking out a velvet box. You look up at him sweetly, gasping as you open it. You pull out a heart-shaped locket. You feel your eyes well up as you open it, reading the words engraved inside.

“I’ll love you forever and Always, Mike.” 

You fling yourself onto him and you wrap your arms around his waist. He pulls you into him kissing you sweetly. In between kisses you mumble out, “I love you so much.” You feel so loved and so grateful that you met someone like him. You didn’t care about the money, he was worth so much more than gold or diamonds to you. 

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You shake your head, pushing the memories out of your mind. Mike looks away from you, his cheeks growing rosey. You sigh loudly, sitting down next to Abby. Over the next few hours, you and Abby color what feels like a thousand different sheets of paper. 

By 11 pm, you’re both lying down on the floor, markers and papers scattered all across your living room. Mike watches from the couch, telling Abby a story as she draws him. A few times, you both glance at each other, but you both quickly turn your gaze to Abby instead. After Abby finishes her drawing, she holds it up to you and him. “It's so good!” Mike says, taking the paper out of her hand. He starts pointing out small little details Abby included, gushing over each and every one. You’re utterly entranced as you watch him. 

You miss him so much.

Your eyes widen and bite your cheek, wanting to slap yourself across the face for even thinking that. He abandoned you. That’s it. 

But.. He loved you so much. Or at least you thought so. How could he just up and leave without a word? You wanted desperately for there to be any other reason. A part of you was convinced there actually was. You bite down harder, a salty metal taste erupting across your tongue.

Whatever happened, he left. That’s it. There’s no excuse. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the roller coaster that’s running through your mind. Maybe… Maybe for now you can forget your distaste for him. Just for a few minutes.

You smile softly as he and Abby burst out laughing. 

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They leave. Too soon. As soon as the door shuts behind the both of them, the apartment is filled with deafening silence. You lay down on the hardware floor, the cold wood seeping through your shirt and biting into your back.

You never realized how much you truly missed Mike and Abby until you saw them tonight. Or… Maybe you just missed having someone to wake up to every day. Whatever it is, you shake it off and crawl onto the couch, too sad to walk a few feet to your bed. You pull a soft blanket over you, the edge of it just barely covering your feet.

You slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of a time when you and Mike weren’t basically sending bombs to each other's front doors.

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You bolt awake, sweaty and shaky. You look around, your heart beating out of your chest. You’re unsure of what woke you up, but it scared the shit out of you. Listening closer, you hear crying, no, wailing. And it’s coming from next door. You quickly bolt up, running to your door. But, you pause as soon as you reach it. You don't want to get involved with Mike and Abby's life more than you have to. Plus, it could just be one of her usual tantrums. It could even just be something as trivial as a burnt breakfast. You pivot, turning back towards the couch. As soon as you hear screaming, you tear up all of your inhibitions and run into the hall. When you reach Mike’s door, it flies open and a woman storms out, dragging an inconsolable Abby out.

The woman, who you recognize as Mike’s aunt, is gripping Abby’s arm so hard that the skin around her fingers turns white. Mike runs out of his apartment pleading with her, “You can see she doesn’t want to go! Please, just-” Abby digs her heels into the ground grabbing Mike's shirt with her free hand. Jane yanks Abby to her side, pulling her away from her brother. “I guess I’ll have to go to the police and tell them you kidnapped my niece! I have sole custody, not you, Michael!” Mike’s eyes go wide, the color draining from his face. He takes a step back, putting as much distance between him and Jane as possible.

You watch in shock, beyond confused about what had gone down during the two years you were broken up. “You truly are a despicable woman.” He says, disgust dripping from his voice. Mike crouches down, getting eye level with Abby. “Abby, I’ll see you soon. I promise, okay?.” His voice cracks as he reaches out, wiping her tears with his thumb. Abby wiggles out of her Aunt’s grip, running forward to wrap her arms around him. He pulls her closer as she sobs into his sweater. Aunt Jane rolls her eyes and then rips Abby away with absolutely no remorse. She drags her down the hall, turning the corner, and disappearing completely.

He sits down, pressing his back against the wall. He exhales, tilting his head back and staring into the fluorescent lights. You cautiously take a step towards him, “Mike…?” He looks over at you, his jaw clenching as he sees you. “Still can’t seem to mind your own business, huh?” He scoffs, his eyes turning away from you. You pause, crouching next to him. You desperately want to comfort him, but you just don't know how. “Can.. Can I do anything?” He looks over at you, his face twisting into a death stare. “For starters, you can leave me alone.” You flinch, feeling a wave of sadness rush over you. You can’t even imagine how he feels. “Mike, please..” You reach out, your hand brushing his.

He slaps your hand away, and screams, “I said leave me the fuck alone!” You stand up, taking a step backward. “I’m sorry for having a fucking heart, Mike!” He laughs, standing up. “Oh, you have a heart? Did you ever tell Clapton why you called him at 2 in the fucking morning?” You look away from him, swallowing. “That's what I thought. Leave me the fuck alone, and stay out of my life!” You feel tears burning your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your lip quivers as you speak, “All... All I wanted to do was help.”

“This is exactly why I left you.” He turns away, storming into his apartment. As soon as the door hits the frame you break down, falling to your knees in the middle of the hall.

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You’ve been crying for hours straight, the tears seemingly having no end. Your pillow is drenched and tissues are splayed out all over your comforter. As you wallow in despair, the sun slowly sinks further across the sky, the only light illuminating your room being the white glow of the moon.  It’s crazy to you how two entire years after your separation, Mike is still making you feel so extremely worthless. You could never be enough for him, no matter how hard you tried. What you hated most though, is that he had a point. You used Clapton. For your own sick and twisted reasons, you used him. And you hated yourself for it. 

Just as you begin to sob harder, you hear a thud against the wall, coming from the hallway. The sound echoes through the walls again, and it sounds almost like someone ran into it. You hear someone grunt and struggle, cursing. You recognize the voice and you groan, taking everything in you not to get up and check on him.

Suddenly, it feels like someone takes control of your body as you walk to your door, stepping into the hallway. You see Mike fumbling with his keys, missing the keyhole every time. He’s clearly very intoxicated. It’s surreal seeing him in such a way. He never drank when you were with him, he always told you he had to make sure Abby was always looked after and always had someone to turn to. Now that she’s not here, you guess he decided nothing is stopping him from getting shitfaced.

You walk over to him, grabbing the keys out of his hands, and unlocking the door yourself. He looks over at you, and any ounce of disdain he held for you from earlier disappeared. “Thanks..” He says quietly. You invite yourself in, making sure he gets to the couch without hurting himself. You avoid eye contact the whole time, knowing if you glance at him for even a second you’d burst out into tears.

Once he’s settled, you turn to walk away, but you feel his hand grasp your wrist, stopping you. “Please... Please stay.” He pleads. You sigh, removing his hand from you. “I can’t keep doing this Mike…” You say, finally turning towards him. He has a guilty look on his face, and he suddenly can’t seem to look at you. “I... I didn’t mean it..” He slurs, his face tipped towards the ground. 

You sit down next to him, your eyebrows raised. “You didn’t mean what..?” You question. “You know. What I said earlier. I do want you in my life…” He says, his eyes tracing the floorboards. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Mike, you’re drunk.” He shakes his head, finally making eye contact. “I swear. I do. I mean.. just look at you. I treated you like dirt and you’re still helping me? You’re just.. so.. so nice.” You frown, wishing so badly he was sober. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He reaches out, his warm hand cupping your face. His eyes bore into yours as he speaks. “I’m not ever going to lie to you again. I promise.” You’re not sure exactly what he means by “again” but you brush it off, chalking it up to more alcohol-induced rambles. 

You stand up, Mike’s hand leaving your face and falling back to his lap. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, okay?” He nods, following your every move and watching you as you walk around his kitchen. 

Your eyes begin dancing around every framed picture he has and every drawing Abby made he has clipped to the fridge. Your eyes settle on a picture of you, him, and Abby at an amusement park, almost exactly a month before he left you. You pick it up, your thumb rubbing over the scratches in the frame. That trip was unforgettable. That was the day you knew he’d be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. You couldn’t imagine a world without him or Abby. You put it back, wondering why he still has it. 

You fill up a glass, taking it back over to him. He drinks it in one gulp and he hiccups once it’s all gone. You place your hand on his chest, slowly pushing him back to get him to lie down. He takes the hint, lying back down on the couch. Your hand lingers there for a moment too long, but you quickly tear it away when he smiles up at you. The smile is still plastered on his face as he watches you drape a blanket over him. His eyes slip shut as he turns on his side, pulling the blanket to his chin.

You look down at him for a few moments. You just don’t understand how one moment you could hate him more than anything, and the next wish everything could go back to the way it used to be. You were half of yourself without him, and just as you started to feel complete he just had to infiltrate his way back into your life. As you watch his chest rise and fall, you just can’t help but still love him. Sadly, nothing was ever going to change that. 

You slowly creep towards the door, the floorboards creaking under you. He speaks so quietly you almost don’t hear him, “There was never another girl..” You freeze and turn back to look at him. “What?” Is all you can say. He doesn’t give you any explanation for what he just grumbled. You convince yourself you’re crazy and you’re just hearing things.

That night, you don’t sleep at all. You keep replaying that moment in your head, over and over. 

“There was never another girl.”

#jhutch #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #mike schimdt x reader #agnst #fanfic #enemies to lovers #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schimdt x you #fnaf movie #clapton davis

[batsplat]

hello i saw in your tags that you don't think people on here get casey stoner and as someone relatively new into the sport i would love to hear your thoughts <3

(context here) okay first of all, this post will be framed as ‘things I wish people talked about more with regards to casey stoner’, rather than arguing against what I think people think

I've tried to come up with a concise response to this ask but kept heading into thesis-length territory. so I decided to write a bullet point list and it’s still… yeah… but well it could be worse. if you, dear anon, wish to read thousands of words of casey stoner lore then please let me know. otherwise, here are just a few things I find interesting about this bloke:

casey has a very complex relationship with the concept of confidence, both in other riders and himself, in the sense that he KNOWS how important it is but also believes/wishes that he specifically is kinda above all that

this feeds into how he wishes that racing were Just Racing and not all this other stuff… not his brain not his body not other racers being assholes on/off track not talking to journalists or doing photoshoots not having to deal with politics etc etc - central underlying tension of his career

he has openly spoken about not ever really enjoying race day, saying the only thing he's missed after retiring is qualifying. very perfectionist, the anxiety, the over-thinking, craving control… all key casey traits

(which also ties in with the valentino rivalry, because valentino obviously adores racing (in particular wheel-to-wheel battle) but he’s also great at all that other off-track stuff)

some very rigid ideas of How The Sport Should Look, which you can see in everything from how he talks about racing standards to the introduction of CRT riders (he had it OUT for them, head hot every time aleix espargaro shows up in parc fermé) to valentino’s influence on ducati and the importance of the colour red

let him have his mean streak! the grim satisfaction in discussing jorge’s 2008 injuries after his early-season arrogance towards casey, the dismissiveness towards dani, some of the wilder valentino remarks (this isn’t a criticism to be clear, alien-on-alien violence is part of the natural order of things)

casey is a classic case of ‘just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t after you’. definitely a suspicious guy and perpetual underdog 'me against the world' mindset. not to get too psychoanalytic-y, but I reckon this was partly born out of how he had to leave australia as a teenager (with his family completely dependent on him succeeding) because of how the racing establishment down under fucked him over

they definitely were out to get him a lot of the time, cf yamaha and then ducati drama plus the slander from some of the greats of the sport, fellow riders, the media etc etc (particularly egregious in 2009 when he was dealing with his mystery illness and a lot of people said some pretty unpleasant stuff in his absence - here is just one example)

his struggles were constantly downplayed. the chronic fatigue misdiagnosed as lactose intolerance led to people calling him weak-minded, broken, running away from the sport (part of why he was so allergic to the idea his results might in any way be connected to what was going on in his head). add in the undiagnosed anxiety and you have all this invisible strife people wouldn't even take seriously

that being said, he definitely did have a propensity for jumping to the worst possible conclusions

two specific examples: firstly from his autobiography, where he makes the claim that valentino may have been sabotaged in the 2006 title decider and was deliberately given a rubbish tyre to make him lose the championship - to which casey’s response was: “welcome to my world, mate”. he does have a tendency to believe he’s being sabotaged, and is constantly on the look out for conspiracies even when they are… unlikely

the other example is mat oxley talking about his issues with casey in his stint working for ducati, partly based on a misunderstanding:

something allegedly written about him in 2001!

let’s just say he can definitely hold a grudge

the moaner stoner stuff was definitely nasty, calling him mopey and whiny and all of that, but he also has never shied away from some good old-fashioned complaining (some of this was a bit of a spiral - complaining for good reason worsening public perception of him leading to more reasons to complain)

see also the lingering marc grudge, who probably did play a significant part in getting casey kicked out of honda (as casey has accused him of). whether marquez prevented stoner from racing in 2015 is more of an open question. casey still speaks about how honda made a mistake by only listening to marc (which, again, does have some truth to it)

casey was always very quick to shut down the idea that momentum, motivation, confidence etc could affect his results (unlike that of his competitors) because he argues he was always very rational & clear-sighted about when things were his fault & when things could be blamed on the bike + extraneous factors. he really goes into detail about this when discussing 2008 laguna seca in his autobiography, which he argues had no effect on him psychologically (but was followed by him crashing out of the lead of the next two races)

has definitely spoken more about his rivalry with valentino than valentino has, which probably has also helped shape perception of it over time

on ‘ambition outweighed talent’ - I feel like people almost understate just what a (hilariously) out of pocket remark it was in context. it was rossi’s second ever race at ducati (and the start of his season was impacted by his shoulder issues) - and the rain meant he had a ~win it or bin it~ approach because he knew it was as good a chance as he might get for some time (despite starting from 12th). the move on stoner for second place was at best optimistic, most definitely impatient and at worst foolish - but sort of understandable in that situation, rossi was definitely rapid, and this stuff can happen in the wet. in that sense, it was obviously more a reaction to the manner of the apology (and his frustration with the stewards) than to what casey himself described as a racing incident

stoner made a remark in his autobiography about how rossi had stolen 25 points in a title battle he was never going to be a part of (oof). whether you're obligated to race title contenders differently is already a bit sketch but certainly should not be a consideration for anybody in round TWO

he was forced to publicly retract the remarks, though he doubled down on them to a deeply funny extent in his autobiography by suggesting they were true of valentino’s entire career and that he’d just benefited from a weak era. rossi mostly took it on the chin especially when interviewed about it for documentaries, probably because with something like that you do just need to take the L

it's understandable how it’s become such a defining image of their rivalry (along with laguna seca), not least because of how evocative the whole thing is - rossi showing up still wearing his helmet, trying to make a PR apology stick while he’s been eating nauseating amounts of humble pie at ducati; stoner casual as you like, pissed off about the points loss while still indulging in schadenfreude about how the Great Big Ducati Adventure is working out for rossi

but again, I think it’s funnier because of just HOW over the top an insult it was in that situation (and more broadly how it does have a different vibe to their interactions when they were meaningfully competing, aka 2007-2008)

in conclusion: casey has his doubts and his insecurities and his obsessions and his foibles… a complicated guy in his own right

and a big thing I’d like to stress here is that the rivalry with valentino does benefit from treating them both as somewhat unreliable narrators

I just think he's neat

#ty for giving me an excuse to be annoying at length about one of my number one guys!! #casey stoner #valentino rossi #motogp #// #cs27 #vr46 #lotsss of other stuff you can go into here. he gets a bit sanitised sometimes I feel which is kinda a shame #u can be justifiably resentful and still be very resentful. spite is still spiteful when it's deserved. same with the misanthropic streak #being called weak-minded really got to him imo - and the thing is he's clearly not (& good lord did some big names say some nasty things) #the autobiography feels almost an overcorrection and then you've got him recently talking more openly about his mental health #(even if not specifically about how it affected him competitively - which is obviously a related but not identical conversation) #it's an uplifting development in a way and it's nice seeing how much more comfortable in his skin he seems these days #but he is also a little bitch :)

[rubyreduji]

Baby Please Come Home — hjs

summary: they’re singing deck the halls, but it’s not like christmas at all

tags: fluff, established relationship, idolverse, gn!reader wc: 2.9k an: it’s predictable but still cute okay leave me be

“Y/N! There’s something for you outside the door!” You emerge from your room to see your roommate standing at the front door.

You haven’t ordered anything recently so you aren’t sure what it is. When you reach the door you see it’s not a normal package either. It’s a box wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper with a bow on top, just like a Christmas present. 

You pick it up and look at the tag on it. To Y/N, From Your Secret Santa.

You frown a bit in confusion before moving to the couch to open the present. You carefully unwrap the present to reveal a normal box under it. When you open that box you find a pile of clothes and a bag of candies for you. The clothes are adorable and definitely your style and the candies are your favorite kind. It would be a great, if only you knew who it was from. You aren’t a part of any Secret Santas this year so you’re not sure who even sent the present.

You search through the box a bit more before you find a note in the bottom.

Dear Y/N,

Merry Christmas! I know Christmas this year might be hard on you, so I thought I’d send you a little something to cheer you up. When I saw these sweaters I knew they would be perfect for you and I know you can’t miss out on a sweet tooth moment. Wishing you nothing but the happiest of holidays.

Love,

Your Secret Santa

You search the note for hints but still come up short. You have an idea of who you hope it would be from, but you banish those thoughts from your mind. There is no way it could be from him, he is busy with other things this time of the year. If anything it’s probably from your mom just trying to do something nice for you. You appreciate it nonetheless and you can’t wait to thank the gift giver when you find out who it is. It is exactly what you needed to get you in the Christmas spirit.

The next couple of days the gifts continue to come. Some Christmas decorations, a stuffed teddy bear, some scented candles, that book you keep talking about buying. Each gift comes with it’s own note and it isn’t until the seventh day of gifts that you finally put the clues together.

This gift is of a Lego set. You’ve only told one person about this set and the note confirms your suspicions.

Dear Y/N,

I remember you mentioning this to me once or twice. I know you try to hide your love for Legos but I hope this can help be more open with your joys, even the little ones. You deserve things that make you happy. Let’s put it together the next time I see you, yeah?

Love,

Your Secret Santa

Tears well up in your eyes a bit. Of course it’s been him. You were crazy to think anything else.

“Hey Y/N- woah, are you okay?” Your roommate barges into your room only to be stopped in their tracks by your tears.

“I’m fine, I just…Josh has been sending me the gifts.”

Joshua is your boyfriend. You guys have been dating for years now but his time is often spent in Korea with his K-POP group. You know how much being an idol means to him, and you support him no matter what, it’s just hard to not have him around as often as you’d like.

This year he’s been busier than usual and gave you the news a few months back that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to come back home for the holidays. It has been weighing on you pretty heavily with Christmas coming up and something about the gifts make it better and worse.

It’s a sweet gesture, sending you gifts he knew you’d like to help you celebrate Christmas even while he’s an ocean away. You appreciate the sentiment to no end, but the smallest part of you can’t help but wish you could just have Joshua with you.

“Why don’t you call him?” Your roommate suggests. “I’m sure he would love to hear from you.” With that they leave your room again and you search for your phone.

You double check the time in Korea before you dial his number. You haven’t talked to him in a while outside of a few minor texts checking in on one another. You haven’t seen his face outside of promotional photos though. The phone rings twice before Joshua picks up, his face filling your screen.

“Hi baby!”

“Hi, how are you? Have I caught you at a good time?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Anytime is a good time for you,” he tells you. You know that is definitely not the truth, but it’s still cute he said it. “So what’s up? How’s my favorite person been?”

“I’ve been amazing. All thanks to your gifts, Secret Santa.”

You watch the way Joshua’s face contorts into a grin. “Ah, you’ve figured it out! I’m glad, I was hoping you’d figure it out soon. I know I can’t be home for Christmas, and it’s been killing both of us, but I hope this can make up for some of it.”

“It’s amazing, you’re the best boyfriend ever Josh. Truly, thank you. You didn’t have to put so much effort into it, but it’s much appreciated. You have me very spoiled.”

“Oh just wait for your next few gifts. I had the boys help me pick out a couple of them and I just know you’re going to love them. Send me your reaction when you get them, okay?”

You’re not sure why but without meaning to, tears start to well in your eyes again. “O-of course Josh.”

“Oh baby. Baby what’s wrong? Is it too much?”

“No, no, I love the gifts, they’re all amazing, trust me. It’s just…I miss you so much. Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas without you. The gifts are wonderful and everything, but it’s not the same you know?”

“I get it, and I’m really sorry I can’t be home Y/N. You know I wish for nothing more than to be with you right now.”

“I know that baby, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t stop me from missing you though. I have my friends and family and everyone, but you’re the one who means the most to me. I wish we could just cuddle under the blankets with hot chocolate and watch bad Hallmark Christmas romance movies.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” Joshua says. His face is more somber now, but you can still see the hint of admiration behind his eyes. Your heart fills with warmth knowing that you guys love each other no matter what.

“I’ll give you double the kisses the next time I see you,” you tell him.

“Well then, I’ll try to be home as soon as possible.”

“Shua-yah!” You hear someone call for Joshua off camera, it sounds like DK.

“Ah, duty calls,” you joke. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Of course. I love you, don’t forget that.”

“Never, as long as you don’t forget I love you just as much.”

“I couldn’t even if I tried, not that I ever would. I have to go now, but remember to text me with your reactions to your gift tomorrow. Okay, bye, love you!” With that, the phone call ended. You sigh and place our phone back down.

“Please come home soon,” you mutter to your room before getting up to get on with your day.

Luckily finding out that Joshua is your ‘Secret Santa’ has given you more reasons to text him. You give him a daily update on your gifts and how your reactions to them. Each one is just as amazing as you expect. Just when you didn’t think you could love Joshua more, here he is, showing how well he listens to you and how much he cares about you and how well he knows you.

Truly the only thing that could make everything better would be to have your boyfriend with you in the flesh.

You push those thoughts away as you continue getting ready for Christmas dinner. You’re going over to your parents house to eat dinner with your family and to exchange presents. You fix your outfit before clasping the gold chain necklace around your neck. It was the last gift Joshua gave you and you nearly cried when you saw it.

It’s a beautiful piece with a thin gold chain and a beautiful gem pendant. On the back of the pendant is your and Josh’s initials engraved. It is the most gorgeous piece of jewelry you own and sure to pair it with your outfit for tonight to make sure Joshua is with you in some way.

You check yourself in the mirror once more before you make your way to your parents house. Your father greets you at the door before ushering you into the house where your mother is finishing up dinner in the kitchen.

“Y/N! Oh it’s so nice to see you sweetie.” Your mom presses a quick kiss to your cheek before continuing to tend to the food.

“Let me help you Mom, you seem to have a lot on your plate.”

“Oh no, I’m good here. How about you help set the table though.”

“Can do! How many places should I set?”

“Eleven places, dear.”

“Eleven? Who else is joining us?” It was customary for your family to have ten places during holidays.

“Oh it’s just one of your father’s work friends. He didn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with so your father offered him to come here. Isn’t that nice?”

You hum in agreement before you start to set the table. You softly sing along to the Christmas music your mother has playing as you get the table ready for the feast. Just as you finish setting the last place the doorbell rings and you rush to get it. When you open the door your grandparents stand there and you greet them with hugs.

Soon the house fills up with the guests and your mother starts to place food out on the table. Being with your family fills you with a warm feeling and even though your boyfriend is still on your mind, the presence of your other loved ones helps relieve some of that pain.

Everyone is seated at the table when you notice the eleventh spot is still empty.

“Hey Dad, is your friend still coming?”

“Hm? Oh, right! He’s just running a bit late sweetie. We can start to eat without him.”

You can’t shake the feeling something is a bit off but you don’t make a fuss as everyone starts to dish out the food. You fill up your plate and start to eat while your family starts to make idle chatter in between bites. You only listen to half of it, your brain wandering off to thinking about what Joshua’s doing right now.

You make a mental note to try and call him later tonight when your thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

“Oh Y/N sweetie, could you get that?” Your father asks and you nod before getting up and walking over to the door.

When you open the door you come face to face with a man you’ve never met before. He must be your father’s friend. You welcome him in, trying to tamper down the disappointment that rises in you. You don’t know why you thought it would have been someone else. Joshua is in Korea, you know this. He has important idol work to attend to, he can’t just get up and come to America because you miss him.

You sit back down in your place as your father and his friend start up a conversation about their job. Your appetite has lessened and you can’t help chide yourself for having such silly thoughts. You fingers move up to fiddle with the chain around your neck, trying to remind yourself that just because you’re not together physically doesn’t mean you guys aren’t with each other in other ways.

“Y/N honey, are you okay?” Your mother asks and you look up to see your mother staring at you with a worried expression.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I was just lost in thought. Dinner is great though, thank you for making all of this.” You make a show of taking a big bite of the potatoes on your fork. Your mother still looks a bit worried but drops the subject, thankfully.

You try to put yourself back into the conversation. Just because things aren’t how you wish, doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy yourself. It works some, listening to your grandparents share anecdotes and getting to know your father’s co-worker.

When dinner is finished the adults pour a drink and you sit and talk with them for a bit more before you excuse yourself for the night, claiming tiredness taking you over. You don’t go straight home when you leave you though, driving downtown instead.

You walk the decorated streets, listening to the faint Christmas music playing out of the street speakers. There’s a bit in the air but it doesn’t bother you much. Most of the shops are closed and the streets are fairly empty, save for a few families and a handful of couples.

You stare at the couples for a little too long, thinking about your own boyfriend. When you focus hard enough you can almost feel his hand enveloping yours as you walk down the street.

A few minutes later you sigh and give up, heading back to your car. It’s no use. As much as you can imagine and wish and try, Joshua still isn’t with you, and your Christmas is nothing but sad and lonely. 

You take your time driving back home, listening to your radio and staring at everyone’s light displays. It’s nearly midnight when you pull into your parking spot and trudge up to your apartment. The lights are off when you get inside and there’s no noise, signaling your roommate is spending the night at their parents’ house.

You change out of your nice clothes and pull on one of the sweaters Joshua sent you before you start a pot of hot water for some hot chocolate. You check the time, 11:58. Joshua should be free right now, even though it’s not Christmas over in Korea anymore. You dial his number only for his phone to go straight to voicemail. Damn it.

You wonder what he’s up to right now as you pour the cocoa powder into your mug. It’s also from one of Joshua’s gifts. You think to yourself that if you can’t be with Joshua, at least you can surround yourself with things that represent him.

Just as you’ve sat down on your couch to turn a movie on, you hear a knock on your door. You glance at your clock. 12:04. Who could be at your door at this time? Did our roommate come home and forget their key again?

You set your mug down and make your way to the door before opening it. When you do you nearly scream out. Standing at your front door is the one person who’s been on your mind for weeks. You don’t have control of your body as you move forward to throw yourself onto the man. You wrap your limbs around him as you feel tears start to stream down your face. He’s quick to catch you, pulling you into him even together.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying in his arms, but you don’t think you’ve ever been happier than in this moment. When you finally pull away you see his face is also a bit tear stained. You can’t help but pull him back into a hug.

“W-what are you doing here?” You hold him tight, like if you let go of him he’ll disappear. 

“I told you I'd be home as soon as possible. I just had to get those kisses you promised," he tells you with a grin. "Truthfully, I just kept thinking about you and Christmas and I knew I needed to come home. I talked to our manager and they gave me a few weeks for break so I could come home and be with you,” Joshua explains. “I’m sorry I’m late though.”

“Late?” You pull back again so you could look Joshua in the face.

“I missed Christmas, I’m sorry.” Joshua gestures to the clock. “Past midnight.”

“Oh shut up, who cares? It only matters that you’re here now.” You finally allow Joshua to step into your apartment fully. “You know, I loved everything you gave me, but you are the best Christmas gift.” You pull him into you again, this time connecting your lips as you do.

The kiss is soft and gentle yet passionate as you both try to make up for months of being apart. When you pull away Joshua has a dopey grin on his face.

“You know you’re pretty romantic,” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“Says the guy who flew here from Korea just to be with me. Now I think you owe me a movie night with hot chocolate and lots of kisses.”

“Only if we get to build the Lego set as well.”

“I think you have yourself a deal.” You press another quick kiss to his lips before you go to grab your Lego set. You know you’re going to spend the rest of the night reading instructions wrong and drinking way too much sugar but you can’t imagine a better way to spend your night.

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#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #joshua hong #joshua fluff #joshua fanfic #joshua imagines #joshua scenarios #joshua x reader #svt joshua #gn reader #joshua x gn reader #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #rru.fics #★ sfw #rru.writes

[medusapelagia]

Learning to Love 5

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve /Billy Tags: enemies to lovers Words: 1703

Billy sighs, annoyed “Give me a moment.” He says, going back in the house. He cleans himself quickly with a wet towel and covers himself in perfume. If that little shitbird will destroy his public image he will fucking kill her. When he gets to the car Dustin, one of Max’s friends, is sitting in the passenger seat.

“That’s my seat.” Billy says, lifting his sunglasses.

“No, Steve told me that I got shotgun for life.” The kid replies with a toothless smile, but Steve gives the kid a friendly elbow in the stomach.

“Come on Dustin, Billy is twice your size, and he can’t sit in the back with Lucas and Max.”

Billy turns toward the back of the car finally noticing the boy that is almost hiding behind Steve’s seat.

“Hey, Sinclair.”

“Hi, Billy.” Billy frowns “Mr. Hargrove.” Lucas corrects himself but that’s not a name Billy likes either.

“Just call me Hargrove.” He says, opening the door and dragging Dustin out of the car. “Do you have some tapes?” Billy asks Steve, looking in the glove compartment. “I don’t want to hear them complaining for the entire ride. It’s annoying.”

Steve chuckles, “Don’t think you’ll like my music but it’s ok. I might have some Madonna or Bowie somewhere.”

“Bowie’s not bad.” Billy states, looking for the tape and then turning the music so loud that he can’t even hear his thoughts. “Gonna teach you a thing or two about music.” He says, getting another cigarette.

“No smoking when the kids are in the car, Billy.” Steve says, grabbing Billy’s cigarette and throwing it out of the window.

“Fuck you, Harrington, that shit costs!” Billy complains loudly, but Steve is not impressed in the slightest. 

When they finally get to the arcade Steve gives some coins to the kids, Max included, and tells them that he is going to pick them up in two hours.

“Come on! Two and a half! And we’ll get a milkshake later.” Lucas complains.

“Two hours and no milkshakes or one and a half and milkshakes, your choice kids, but I’m going to have you all back home by six no matter what.”

The kids groan but in the end, they decide that it is better to spend half an hour more at the arcade than having milkshakes before dinner.

“Good choice.” Steve praises them, “Now go and have fun.”

Max and Lucas run toward the arcade where Will and Mike are already waiting for them while Dustin hesitates “What?” Steve asks.

“Will you be ok? I mean… with him?”

“Harrington and I are great friends… aren’t we?” Billy asks, turning toward Steve.

“Great friends.” He confirms, ruffling Dustin’s hair “You don’t have to worry about me, you know that, right?”

“But he beat you up!” Dustin protests.

“I had my reasons!” Billy rebukes, getting threateningly closer but Steve stops him with a hand on his chest.

“It’s water under the bridge. He is the one who convinced me to go to the eye doctor, did you know that?”

“He did?” Dustin asks, offended. “I tried to convince you for months, Steve! Months!”

“I know. He was just… a little bit more persuasive, ok? Now go before Max gets to the best games.”

Dustin glares at Billy but he turns toward the arcade and joins his friends, and the two older teenagers remain outside the arcade in silence.

“Do you wanna get a milkshake? My treat.” Steve says, spinning the car’s key on his finger.

“You bet you are going to pay for them, Harrington. You threw my cigarettes out of the window.”

“Just one, and I had a good reason!” The pretty boy replies with a smirk while getting back in the car.

“You ok?” Billy asks while Steve drives.

“Yeah. Why are you asking?”

“We haven't seen each other since you passed math.”

“Oh, yeah.The tutoring thing was over, wasn’t it?”

Yeah, it was but Billy was actually enjoying spending time with Steve and he misses it.

“Did Hagan give you more shit?” Billy asks, looking stubbornly outside the window.

“Not really, we are not friends anymore, you know? And I’m friends with Jon, Will’s brother.”

“Byers? The one who stole your girl?”

“Nancy is not a thing, she can’t be stolen, but yes, Jonathan Byers. We drive the kids almost everywhere so sometimes we grab a smoke together. Oh he told me about this fancy music store in Indianapolis, maybe some time we could go there together,” Steve suggests.

“Together? Like you and me?” 

Steve nods without turning, “If you want of course, if not I can go with him and Nancy and…”

“No, I’d like to go to the music store with you.” Billy replies quickly, cursing himself for being so eager to spend some time with Steve.

When they sit at the table and the cute waitress takes their order, one chocolate milkshake and one strawberry with fries that they are sharing, Billy looks around them. It’s a Saturday afternoon so there are many couples sharing milkshakes and kisses, sitting on the same side of the table, side by side, while Steve and Billy are sitting on the opposite side of the table and even if Billy’s eyes darts on Steve’s plump lips there is nothing he could do. He has no fucking chance.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, long week.” Billy replies, talking about basketball practice and the next competition that they will probably lose “We miss you, Harrington. Any possibilities that you could get back?”

“I suffered a head trauma, my doctor prohibited me from contact sports, but I’m doing quite well on the swimming team. I’m going to be co-captain.”

“I used to be a lifeguard back in California,” Billy says with a dreaming smile.

“Do you want to join the swimming team and steal my place? Again?” Steve chuckles.

“No. I don’t want to steal anything of yours.”

“Because you already did, right?” Steve replies with a wink that leaves Billy confused.

“What are you talking about?” 

The smile on Steve’s lips dies.

“Don’t tell me I got it wrong. Oh god. Max said… I thought…” Steve stutters, his eyes darting from Billy to the exit. His breathing coming too quickly.

“Hey, Steve, it’s ok! I don’t know what Max told you, but it’s ok. You are fine. We are fine.” Billy tells him and Steve takes a couple of deep breaths to settle himself.

“I’m sorry.” He says, looking at the clock on the wall, “Maybe we should go back to the arcade.”

It’s still early but Billy nods, chugging his milkshake, and he follows Steve to the car. Once they are inside the maroon beemer Steve seems even more anxious.

“Can you tell me what Maxine told you?” Billy asks, staring out of the window as they drive.

“Nothing.”

Billy lifts an eyebrow, it certainly didn’t look like nothing, and Steve is acting so nervously that Billy sighs and then confesses to him “I’m gay. And I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, and I get it if you don’t want to see me again. Just… don’t tell Hagan, ok? There are already… rumors and I don’t want to feed the gossip.”

Steve stops the car so abruptly that Billy’s head bumps in the window.

“Fuck! Harrington!”

“Are you… do you really… I mean could you… but no… surely you don’t…”

“Can you explain to me what the fuck are you trying to say?”

“I like you, Billy.”

“As a friend?”

“As a… special friend?” 

“Steve?”

“I… I’m not gay!” Steve clarifies and Billy stares at him even more confused. “I’m bi… I’m bisexual.” He whispers “But I like you. Having you at my place was becoming so familiar that I got scared because I thought you could never reciprocate my feelings. But then Max said something and… well, it doesn’t matter. Even if you are gay it doesn’t mean that you like me back, right?” Steve asks in his self-deprecating tone that Billy knows too well.

“Keep driving.” Billy says to him when they get near the arcade.

“But…”

“Keep driving. It’s still early. Take me to a quiet place.” Billy repeats and Steve drives them to his home, the more secluded place he knows.

As soon as they get inside Billy grabs Steve’s preppy shirt and yanks him toward himself, stealing a kiss.

At first, Steve seems surprised at Billy's reaction but he quickly relaxes in Billy's hold and kisses him back. The pleasure burns in their stomach while Billy’s hands get under Steve’s shirt, caressing the skin with his fingertips and Steve shivers in his hold.

“Do you like that?” Billy whispers on Steve’s lips.

“I like it. And I like you. Do you like me?”

"Of course I do, Harrington!” Billy replies kissing him again, and again, until the clock in the kitchen informs them that they have to get back to the arcade.

When they pick up the kids, the boys are too busy telling Steve about every fight they won in a game, while Max grins at them satisfied.

Steve drives Dustin and Lucas first, taking his time to drive back Billy and Max.

“Five minutes.” Max informs them, pointing at Neil’s car that is already parked in the driveway and Billy nods.

“So…” Steve and Billy say at the same time, giggling like kids.

“You first.” Billy insists and Steve blushes.

“Would you like… would you like to watch a movie at my place one of these days? And maybe tutoring me a little bit more?” 

Billy winks at him, “I would love to. Do you want me to bring some beers next Wednesday after basketball practice?”

“That sounds… nice.”

“See you on Wednesday, pretty boy.” Billy replies with a smirk, and when his father asks him who the boy is he tells him that Harrington asked him to tutor him again after the good results he got in math.

His father smiles, telling some cruel things about Steve and his family but Billy doesn’t care, all he wants is his father’s permission to tutor the boy and drive his sister to the arcade, and when he agrees, Max squeezes Billy’s hand under the table, smiling at him.

#stranger things fanfic #steve x billy #harringrove #medusapelagia #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Harringrove #Billy x Steve #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Harringrove fic #medusapelagia fanfic #my fanfic #learning to love

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Bloodlust

kai parker x reader

part of you knew it was wishful thinking to believe vampires couldn't sense period blood. your heretic best friend proves that true when he comes over to see you. in fact, to him, it smells even sweeter than the blood you normally offer, and he practically begs you for a taste. (heretic!kai) (virgin!kai)

tags: period sex, oral sex, blood drinking, blood sharing, loss of virginity

word count: ~3.5k

As soon as you get back from the bathroom, your phone gets a new message. Checking it, you see it’s your best friend. 

Kai: hi princess, are you free tonight? i miss you. movie night?

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to say ‘yes’. The two of you haven’t had a night to yourselves in awhile, and a movie night sounds like heaven. Only one thing - your period has come three days early, and Kai’s a recently turned heretic. You don’t know if vampires can sense that type of blood the same way they can with venous blood, but if they can, that’ll lead to a pretty embarrassing situation that you don’t think you can handle. Not that Kai won’t be a gentleman, because you know he always is with you, but just the thought of explaining that to your best friend sounds less than appealing. Besides, periods tend to make you way more needy than usual, and that crush you’ve been harboring does not need to be revealed. 

Sighing, you type a reply. 

Y/N: i’m not feeling great today. another day?

The minute you hit send, you know you chose the wrong words. Kai answers immediately.

Kai: you okay?? anything i can help with? if you’re sad, i don’t want you alone :( 

Fuck, why’d you tell him that?

Y/N: no, i’m okay, i promise. just a stomach bug. i don’t want you to catch it

Kai: i can’t get sick, i’m a heretic now. plz let me help you

Kai: i’ll get you some soup from the grill and we can watch your favorite movie

Y/N: idk i just don’t think it’s a good time rn

Kai: oh, okay

Kai: i didn’t do anything wrong, did i?

Y/N: no! pumpkin, you did nothing wrong, i just don’t feel good

Kai: okay

Kai: you sure i can’t help? i miss you sm

Y/N: i know, and i miss you, too

Kai: do u want me to find jo and ask her your symptoms? she might be able to help

Y/N: no you don’t have to do that! i know what it is, i’m okay. it just hurts

Kai: wait, what is it?

Y/N: nothing serious, just a lil bug

Kai: i don’t like knowing you’re hurting alone

Kai: i promise i won’t talk too much, just let me come comfort you

It’s a losing battle with Kai. It always is. He’s always so adamant about keeping you company, especially at times you don’t feel well, and most of the time, you’ve given into his convincing. But in the past, he’d only been a witch. His vampirism is an unfortunate game-changer. 

Kai: y/n, please, i’m worried

Kai: take a nap if u want, just let me come and make sure you’re okay

Kai: you can use me as a pillow again :)

The needy part of your mind takes over, and you answer without thinking twice. 

Y/N: alright, but i might go to bed really early

Kai: that’s okay :)) i’ll be there in 2

Great job, Y/N. Now you’ve fucked up. How are you going to explain this??

In the two minutes that you have to spare, you burn some sage, hoping that smell will overpower the more obvious one. Your fingers are crossed that maybe vampires can’t detect periods, but you have a feeling that’s wishful thinking. The knock on your door comes sooner than anticipated. 

Despite your worries, you can’t help the happiness that consumes you when you see Kai at your door. “Hi!” You exclaim, rushing forward to hug him. 

The boy hugs you back with one arm, the other full of soup and snacks, then grins at you when you separate. “I know you aren’t feeling well, so I’ll keep my voice down and try to talk less. I just don’t want you alone when you’re sick, y’know?”

“I know,” you nod, leading him to the kitchen to open the takeout boxes. “Thank you for caring.”

“I’ll always care about you. Mhm, is that sage?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was hoping it would make me feel better.”

“It should. I mean, it’ll at least help. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Hmm, all I need is you, this soup, and a good movie, and I’ll feel okay eventually, m’kay?”

He’s unsure about the truth in your statement, but agrees anyway.

The two of you sit on your couch, soups in hand, sharing a blanket across your lap. You decided on a stupid movie that’ll make you both laugh, and try not to think too much about the cramping in your abdomen. As the movie goes on and Kai begins to get lost in it, you start to feel a little more comfortable. Maybe your sage trick worked, or maybe it is undetectable to vampires. Either way, you let yourself curl into his side, enjoying your closeness. You don’t miss him putting an arm around you to pull you closer, and the gesture makes your heart flutter. 

About an hour later, the midol you took is finally kicking in, and the pain is lessening more and more. Sighing in relief, you stretch your legs out for a second, easing those cramps, before tucking them back under you. In that moment, though, you forget that movements like those might trigger blood flow, which may then trigger the heretic’s bloodlust. And if he can smell period blood, that most certainly did it.  

With a glance up to Kai, you almost see the gears turning in his head. Fuck. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you smell blood?”

“Um, no. Why?”

Yes. Yes, you do. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“I don’t know, but out of nowhere, I do.”

“Maybe I got a cut from this plastic lid?” You refer to the container you’ve been, thankfully, playing with for the last half hour.

Kai immediately grabs your hands to check. “No, no cuts.”

“Maybe it’s the neighbor?”

“Too close to be the neighbor. You sure you aren’t bleeding anywhere?”

“I’m okay, I promise. I’m not hurt.” It’s not a total lie. You aren’t hurt, you said. You hadn’t confirmed nor denied if you were actually bleeding. 

“Can I check?”

“What?”

“Check for blood? Just to be sure.”

Panic courses through your body. “No,” you blurt out. You even move a little away from him without realizing, but then immediately regret it. 

Kai tenses, “okay. I’m sorry.”

“Wait. Fuck, okay. Kai?”

“Yes?”

“Chill, Y/N, it’ll be fine.” You tell yourself out loud, concerning him even more. “Okay, I actually am bleeding, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“It’s natural, supposed to happen, but I can’t control it.”

“Please explain, Y/N. What is it? Does it hurt?”

“Okay. It’s a period, women get them every month, and like I said, it’s totally normal. They cause a lot of stomach cramping and such, which is why I was in pain earlier, but I took something for it and I’m okay now. But basically, in simple terms, when women don’t get pregnant, their body gets mad and retaliates by shedding the lining of the uterus. This results in the lining, and tissues, and blood, and some other things to be drained from the body via…” you gesture to the lower half of your body. “So no, I can’t control it, but I can stop it from leaking with pads and tampons, whatever’s on hand. But right now, the cramps and pain are gone, but the blood doesn’t stop.”

As you explain it, you see his eyes darken. The veins underneath turn to a purple-ish, black, and you think you know exactly what’s happening. 

“Can I… can I taste it?”

“What?”

“The blood.”

Hell yes, please, you want to say. But at the same time, that’s a step too far into intimacy that you haven’t taken. “Um, I don’t know.”

“It smells so good, I need it.”

You try to swallow the butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Kai, I’m sorry. You can feed from my neck or wrist, but we can’t-... I can’t-” you don’t know how to finish that sentence. 

Slowly, he nods, the bloodlust taking over. 

“Okay,” you lift your wrist up to his mouth, “drink, baby.” It’s a pet name you use for him all the time, but this time, both of you can feel something more. 

Kai licks the spot where he plans to bite, then in one quick motion, sinks his teeth into your skin. You gasp for a second, but then start to enjoy the feeling. He’s fed off you more times than you can count and it always delivers the same pleasure. 

Kai drinks for a few seconds, but detaches way too soon. There’s no way he’s full from that. 

Though, you get your answer in the form of a desperate plea, “Y/N, I need it. There’s something different about it. I can smell it, it’s so good.”

“Kai… c’mon, drink.” You lift your wrist up again, but the stubborn boy literally refuses to latch. “What about here?” You offer your neck, even tracing your hand along your jugular. 

“Just a taste, please, Y/N.”

Once again, a losing battle. His determination plus your increasing arousal at the thought of it all betrays you, and before you know it, you’re laying back on the couch, his fingertips at the waistband of your leggings. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He offers the option, even though you know he’s silently begging you to say ‘no’. 

“No,” you admit.

He looks at you with lust-filled eyes - an expression you’ve never seen before on him. “If you change your mind, I will.”

“Okay. Hey, can you put something down on the couch? I don’t want to bleed on it and have a big, embarrassing stain.”

The heretic nods, fetching a towel, then continues. He puts it under you as soon as your leggings and panties are gone, then for a minute, just stares. No blood is visible, but he can smell it. It’s strong, and mixed with the intoxicatingly sweet smell of your arousal. His heartbeat quickens, pants tighten, and he looks at you for one more consent. 

“Go ahead. I trust you.”

Kai doesn’t know whether to use his mouth or a finger first. One thing he’s never told you: he’s a virgin. Yet the need for this blood is too strong to dive into that right now, and he fights with himself before making a decision. 

“Kai, please do something,” you whine, wondering what has him waiting. The cool air on your body causes you to shiver; his gaze makes you wet. 

In a split second, he chooses to feel you first. His index finger traces your clit ever so lightly. It travels between your folds, then dips into them in such a slow motion, you could explode. You fight the urge to moan his name again, but maybe that will snap him out of whatever trance he seems to have entered. 

He’s still going gentle, much too gentle, as he feels around your walls. Seemingly exploring, as if it’s his first time. Though the idea doesn’t cross your mind that it may be, because you’re too needy to think coherently. 

“Please,” you can’t help but beg. The need for his fingers, tongue, anything, to taste you is overwhelming. 

Kai finally goes deeper. One finger is inside you, down to the knuckle. Wetness begins to coat his finger, whether it’s arousal or blood, you’re unsure. Please let it be blood, you think, and then his vampirism will take over and he’ll be consumed by it, and I’ll get some pleasure out of this. And then you immediately feel bad for thinking that. He’s exploring your body for the first time, give him a break. For all you know, the crush is mutual. 

After a minute of swirling his finger around you, he pulls it out and brings it to his lips. There’s a bit of blood, but most of it is the clear, creamy substance you know all too well. 

Kai’s afraid to ask what exactly it is - afraid to reveal he doesn’t know what he’s doing; afraid you’ll regret letting him do this. If she knows I’m inexperienced, she won’t ever want me, a voice in his mind tells him. Speaking of which, you better get your shit together. He sucks your juices off his finger, and his eyes roll back in his head. Fuck, that’s heavenly. Need more, and need more blood. The second time, he’s less slow. Two fingers enter you, they move about, coating them evenly, and then he sucks them off again. This time, there was more blood. His eyes start to turn black again, and he knows he needs better access. 

You sign in relief when Kai moves his body down, mouth making its way towards your heat. Him eating you out has been a dream of yours for months, and with the added sensitivity of your period, you know this is about to be perfect. Not even the vampirism scares you, because you love the feeling of him feeding on you, so why would this be any different?

“Need you,” you moan, bucking up your hips slightly. The action causes a little bit of blood to dribble out onto the towel, and Kai’s veins reappear.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yes, please, Kai.” In your state, you speak without considering your words. “I love the feeling of you feeding on me. It’s euphoric, it makes me wet. This’ll be ten times better.”

The confession drives him, finally, to indulge. His first few licks are still slow as he gets used to the sensation, but then the taste of blood overwhelms him. It’s better than the blood from your neck, if that's even possible. It’s coated in the same sweet wetness that covered his finger, and seems to gush more with every flick of his tongue. The taste soon has him humming into your heat, causing you to cry out and grab his hair. You’re pulling him into you, bucking your hips against his face, panting heavily. Kai grabs onto your hips to keep you steady, helping him to maintain some control. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter. The vibration goes straight into your core. “You taste like heaven.” The praise makes you grip him harder. And with every tug of his hair, he delves his tongue deeper.

For a second, he begins to nibble on your clit. At first, it feels good, but then you realize he might actually bite you there. 

You giggle, “don’t bite me, Kai! Not there!”

He stops for a minute, confused. You look at him, now equally confused. Why does this seem so new to him?

“Bite here,” you poke your inner thigh. “Or here,” your lower stomach. “Or really anywhere, just not right there.”

“Okay.” Immediately, the heretic’s teeth sink into your thigh. Blood from your period has dried onto the area from his messy feeding, and now fresh blood joins with it. 

“Holy fuck,” you squeeze your eyes shut from pleasure and pain. When you open them again, his fangs are covered in your blood, dark red. His eyes and veins are still black, but there’s a pinkish tint to his cheeks. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you gush up at him. “Kiss me.”

Unlike before, there’s no hesitancy as he obeys your command. Blood from his lips seeps into your mouth, giving you a chance to taste yourself, quite literally. As the metallic taste drips down your throat, you find yourself moaning again. Kai’s lips curl into a smile. 

Then, moments later, his head is dipping back down, tongue re-entering your heat. He seems to have gotten more confidence now, alternating between slurping blood from your entrance, and sucking at your clit. His left hand covers the open wound on your thigh, preventing too much blood loss. Though you both know you have to tend to it soon. 

“I’m so close, Kai.”

He keeps pace. At times he’s on your clit, two fingers enter you, feeling your walls, and bringing you closer to orgasm. He hums again, sending more vibrations through you that are better than any vibrator you’ve ever used. Repetition takes you to your high, finally, as white spots cloud your vision. You cry out so loud that you hope the neighbors can’t hear you while your orgasm rips through your entire body.

Kai laps up your blood until you’ve finished. The second you feel yourself go weak from the overwhelming pleasure, he sits up and bites into his own wrist, bringing it up to your lips for you to feed. You take it gladly, feeling a bit dizzy, and can’t help but admire him as he watches you. Eyes, turning back to blue, but intense. Hair, a mess from you tugging on it. Mouth, stained red from the copious amounts of your blood he drank. It’s a sight that would scare most, but you’ve never been more attracted to him. 

“You okay?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “I didn’t go too far, did I?”

His blood begins to heal the wound on your thigh and return your body to its normal state. “No, Kai, you’re perfect. That was amazing.”

“To be honest, I could’ve kept going.  I could drown in your blood. But I could never hurt you, so I had to stop. Plus, I didn’t want to overstimulate you too much, and I think you started to feel that way when you came.”

“Just the perfect amount of overstimulation. Like I said, you were perfect.”

He swallows, as if debating what to say next. “Um, thank you. For both, letting me feed, and letting me taste you.”

You smile, “so… you liked it?”

“What do you mean? Of course I liked it.”

“I know, but I mean… the intimacy of it.” It’s a risk, but you have to know. “I know we blood-share all the time, but never like this. Never with my… y’know.”

“The intimacy… you mean, sex?” 

His bluntness makes you blush. The sociopath’s limited emotions lead to a lot of bluntness, you’ve learned.

“Um, yeah.”

“Yeah, I liked it a lot. I mean, I’ve always wanted to go that far with you, but I was afraid you’d reject me, and then we’d stop being friends. Right now, I’m thanking whoever gave women periods and Lily Salvatore right now for these stars aligning.”

If it’s possible, you’re blushing even harder. “I wouldn’t have rejected you, Kai. I wanted you, too. More than you could know.”

“I know… I mean, I figured. Because I’ve been able to sense your heart rate getting faster when I’m near you, and even before turning, I could see your cheeks reddening and you’d stutter sometimes. But I couldn’t risk losing you because you’re the only person to ever care about me.”

“Well worry not, because I’m not going anywhere, pumpkin.”

“I think I…” he licks his lips, “oh, fuck it, I do love you.”

You had looked down because of your blushing, but his confession snaps your eyes back up to face him. “Oh my god, I love you, too.”

For a second, the two of you just stare at each other. Then, out of nowhere, he grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. You squeal, let out a laugh, and turn to kiss him. He’s gentle, yet hungry for you, and the combination drives you insane. When you separate, he looks nervous again.

“Kai…?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure I was okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“The sex, or at least, what of it we did.”

“What?! Are you crazy? I’m dead serious, Kai, that was the best I’ve ever experienced.”

“Okay. Good. Because, uh…”

You duck your head, waiting for him to continue.

“You’re, uh, my first.”

“Wait, what?” 

“Um-”

“You’re joking?”

“No.”

“There is no way.”

“Is that okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Malachai-”

“Ew, don’t call me that.”

“-Parker.”

He bites his lip, looking anywhere but at your face.

“There’s no fucking way you’ve never done this before.”

“I mean, I’ve touched myself in the prison world plenty of times.” The sociopathic bluntness returns. Coincidentally, your blush also returns. 

“But you’ve never touched, eaten out, anything with a woman?”

“Not until you.”

“You’re mine,” you look him in the eye. He meets your gaze, not expecting the possessiveness. It’s usually him being overly protective of you. “You’re mine, and no one else’s, you fucking sex god.”

It’s his turn to blush, and he does so a deep red. It matches the blood staining his teeth, Your blood. “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“Good. Now kiss me, and let’s watch this movie until you get hungry again.”

“I will not argue with that.”

#malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #kai parker #heretic kai parker #virgin kai parker #the vampire diaries #tvd fics #bloodlust #this is kinky im sorry

[blainesebastian]

aquarium (ccg universe)

words: 1,605 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “ ccg and Austin request with luci where ccg is at work for the day so Austin has to look after luci and they go to the park and play together and stuff and it’s just rlly sweet but then luci falls over and austin makes it better” warnings: none notes: thanks so much for reading! appreciate ya’ll :) slightly different than prompt request but same vibes!  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

There are not many times in which you find yourself busy and Austin stays home for the day to watch Luci. It’s a balance and trade off, for sure, but you’re a writer—there’s less chances for you to have to go in to work unless it’s table reads or drama. You like to be on set but are less needed when it comes to producers and directors, and you’re completely okay with that. It allows you to be home and present in your passion all at the same time.

You just feel lucky for the most part that you and Austin aren’t working on projects simultaneously. Don’t get it wrong, you do love that this whole writing thing has worked out for you. It’s just…with today, the only thing you hate is that you’re missing is that Austin is taking Luci to the zoo.

To be clear, you don’t exactly blame this decision—you and Austin had been planning on taking Luci there for a while now, she’s been learning all these animal names and noises and is super excited at treating the entire trip like a safari of some kind. When you get called in to work unexpectedly, you’re not about to ruin that trip for Luci even though Austin offers to go another day.

It's fine, there will be other zoo trips for sure, and besides,

“Work will definitely go a lot smoother if I got cute videos to look at while dealing with actors and script changes. I’ll be in a zoo of my own making.”

Austin smiles a little, rubbing the back of his neck, “Just doesn’t seem fair to you.”

You hum lightly, moving to place yourself on his lap as he sits on the couch, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “What’s not fair is canceling this trip on Luci because I have to work.” You smile down at him as his hands slide up and down your thighs, “Besides, she’ll have more fun with you anyways.”

Austin rolls his eyes, squeezing your hips, “Don’t even say that.”

Smirking, you lean down to press your foreheads together briefly, “I might be able to show up for the tail-end if I get everything in order. Something to look forward to.”

You can tell Austin isn’t one hundred percent satisfied with that answer but because you’re willing to do it that way? He sighs and nods, hooking his finger underneath your chin to draw you into a kiss.

--

It’s not that Austin doesn’t think the whole zoo trip isn’t going to be a great day, he knows it will be (and it is), it’d just be more complete with you there. He sends copious amounts of videos to you as he and Luci make way through the zoo, pausing at different enclosures. He’s only recognized a handful of times by fans and all the interactions are decent, respectful of his space with his daughter. And his most entertaining reaction is someone asking ‘Is Y/N here too?’. He says no but snaps a selfie with them to text you,

Austin: got fans askin’ about you Y/N: priorities :)

Luci does a lot of investigative adventures with every animal she visits, so ready to ask questions and copy their sounds as much as she can. Very entertaining—he’s got an entire album collection of it at this point.

Right before the aquarium part of the zoo, Austin carries Luci into a gift shop on his shoulders so she can take a look around. Her arms are kinda tight around his neck every so often, but he doesn’t mind, holding her by the shins as she leans one way or another to point out stuffed animals to him.

“I think we should get mom somethin’.” He picks her up off his shoulders and holds her against his chest, her legs wrapping around his upper torso. “What do you think?”

Luci grins, that big cheesy one that always makes him chuckle, “Yessss.”

“Alright,” He presses a kiss to her cheek, “Which one?”

He picks up a few animals as they walk—a cow, a seal, a lion, Luci seems to love them all, but she doesn’t settle on any of them. Not until he picks up a panda, however, that one she reaches for instantly, squeezing it to her chest. He smirks, playfully tugging one of her pigtails that she has in because he’s gonna need that to check-out.

As they head out of the gift shop, if Austin had to guesstimate, Luci’s got about another good hour in her before she starts needing a nap—he hopes you’ll be able to make it before then.

--

You don’t exactly rush your time on set, but you’d be lying if you weren’t paying attention to the hours and minutes creeping by. You give yourself a limit in order to work everything out between directors and actors, knowing exactly when you should leave. It’ll be fine, you know it, and they can always call you back tomorrow. At the end of the day, it’s for the people on set to figure out—you can only give so much guidance.

The last series of texts and videos that you got from Austin were right outside the aquarium and you hope aren’t too late. While you love the updates? It’s nothing compared to seeing it in person.

Making your way to the zoo, you quickly park once you get there, paying for a ticket and making a b-line for the aquarium. Running a hand through your hair, you take a look around, everything covered in a soft blue light from the reflection of windows and water—has to be one of your favorite places to visit. When you were in high school, you wanted to work in an aquarium, become a marine biologist or something. God, if younger you could see you now.

You smile a little, rounding a corner and walking up a ramp, knowing the best way to do this is to start from top to bottom (best way to view the aquarium in your opinion). You’re about to text Austin when you turn a corner and see them, pausing to observe. Austin looks utterly beautiful underneath the soft blue waves of light, his eyes even a crisper shade than usual because of it. He’s standing against one of the glass windows with Luci in his arms, watching as she points out fish that swim by.

He grabs one of her hands at one point, kisses her knuckles, and then lets her go—talking with her about jellyfish, manta rays and sharks alike.

You swear your heart swells twice its normal size.

Austin turns a little to look behind him, mostly at the people who move past, but his gaze flutters up and he notices you. Always has been able to find you in a crowd. He smiles a little, offering a small wave even though Luci hasn’t seen you yet. He leans down and whispers in her ear and Luci brightens as she quickly turns around, squiggling to be put on the ground.

You can’t help but chuckle as Luci takes off in a sprint when she’s free…and then completely spills out by tripping on the carpet. This is definitely a typical occurrence, still trying to find her sea legs.

“Oh babe,” You say as she gets herself up but starts crying. You know it’s mostly out of shock rather than pain but Austin is quick to scoop her into his arms again as you approach.

“Quite a wipeout.” He says fondly, checking her hands and knees just in case she has any scrapes. Her tears are big and slightly dramatic as they roll down her cheeks, lower lip wobbling as she gulps air, “Hey, hey,” He croons, gently bouncing her against his side, “You’re alright, not a scratch.”

Austin makes a big production of kissing the back of her hands, blowing small raspberries into her forearms until she giggles. He’s really good at that, you realize, making her laugh. It just seems to be Austin; he always knows how to make you feel better too, even without trying very hard.

“There we go,” He smiles a little, “Want to give mama what we got her?”

You raise your eyebrows, “You got me something?” You smooth your hand through one of her pigtails, waiting for Austin to hand her the bag. Luci excitedly reaches inside and tugs out—

You gasp, reaching for it with bright eyes, “Oh my goodness! What is this?”

“A panda!” Luci exclaims, clearly very proud of the purchase. “See? It’s got spots momma.”

You let out a soft laugh because, of course, how could you have not known that? Austin grins and takes the bear for a moment, having it kiss your cheek. And then you can’t help but kiss him—far too quick but just enough. Luci reaches forward, interrupting the closeness between you and your husband, wanting to be held by you.

“Okay,” You laugh, taking her into your arms, “What do you want, troublemaker?”

“Fishies!” Luci declares, pointing over your shoulder, wanting to go see.

“Fishies?” You ask, grinning with a squeeze, looking over at Austin before moving forward, “What about jellies? Seahorses! Sea urchins—see any of those yet?”

Luci shakes her head but she’s definitely ready to explore. You set her on the ground and she takes off running again, eager to accept another adventure despite tumbling a few minutes earlier. You smile, your hand finding Austin’s effortlessly as your other holds onto the stuffed panda.

You’re so happy you didn’t miss this day.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg

[toastandjamie]

So an AU where Mat isn’t Ta’veren and becomes our POV in the Black Tower.

Now the first dilemma I faced was how much Mat should be integrated into the main plot, especially given that the Black Tower isn’t created until book five. So here’s what I got so far input for what this goofy little guy should get up to is welcome.

So after Winter Night, Perrin, Rand, and Egwene go with Morraine and Lan leaving our non-Ta’veren ordinary guy Mat behind. Now Mat, not knowing the details, is quite upset because as far as he knows his two best friends just ditched him to go on an adventure without him. When Nynaeve goes after them Mat tries to tag along but Nynaeve very firmly sends him back home. However, Ta’veren or not this is still Mat Cauthon we’re talking about so he goes after them himself. He spends the rest of Eye of The World having narrow misses with the plot, running into Thom at Whitebridge after the Myrdraal incident and drags that poor man all the way to Camlyn only to discover that he once again missed his friends and now has no idea where they’ve gone.

In The Great Hunt we find Mat traveling with Thom and Dana as an apprentice Gleeman, until they meet up with Rand in Cairihan. Rand tells him about the the horn but leaves out the whole, he’s the dragon reborn bit. Now this version of Mat doesn’t believe he’s a hero but he also has yet to discover Consequences so he really wants to be one, so he immediately insists on joining Rand to find the horn of Valere. Rand tries the tried and true method of being the worst to your loved ones to drive them away for their own good but while it DOES upset Mat, you aren’t shaking him that easily especially since he’s already invited to that party Rand and friends needs to break into. Things end up going relatively the same from their and they all go to Falme, Mat gets a late reveal there that Rand is the Dragon Reborn, we have Seanchen problems and Mat is still the one to blow the horn of Valere.

The Dragon Reborn baby, in order to try and keep Mat safely out of the plot Rand convinces him to escort the girls back to Tarvalon. Now no one but Rand and Perrin know he blew the horn of Valere and at their urging Mat decides to keep it that way, but he quickly finds that when your a man and not Ta’veren or the known sounder of the horn of Valere you very quickly get bored of the White Tower. After spending some time gambling at every tavern in Tarvalon and training a bit with the warders and Gawyn and Galad, the girls give him the letter for Morgause and send him on his way no Armylin permission slip required. Things go pretty similarly as they do in the book, Mat picks up a depressed Thom, discovers a plot to kill the girl’s, gets some fireworks and breaks into the Stone, though he is now slightly less effective without his supernatural luck.

The Shadow Rising finds our boy Mat feeling severely put out and a bit helpless. The girls as usual were less then grateful for the rescue and Rand and Perrin are too busy to talk to him. He still goes to Egwene for advice and hears about the Red Stone Door and still goes through it, though this time he actually gets to ask his three questions before getting kicked out since there’s now only One Ta’veren in there. Mat’s still contemplating what his confusing answers mean when Rand pops out, and things continue from there as planned. This time however Mat does not go to the Wastes and instead joins Thom and Julin as unwanted bodyguards for Nynaeve and Elayne. Hilarity ensues. More importantly however during the Tanchico arc Mat starts considering the possibility of learning to channel. After all, the girls aren’t wrong about him not being much help against the black ajah without channeling. So using the scraps of information he has he tries to teach himself how to channel. But it’s not going so well. However once they reach Salidar he finds a certain someone who might be able to help with that…

In Fires of Heaven and onwards we get more of Mat feeling helpless to protect his friends and using his most powerful weapon, his puppy dog eyes, he gets Logain to grudgingly agree to help teach him though one problem is that Logain is gentled but Mat won’t let that stop him. Egwene shows up, Logain is de-gentled and Mat get’s the bright idea to take the bow healed Logain and head to the Black Tower. Mat proceeds to get tangled up in both the Black Tower sub plot and Elayne’s Succession plot line. He also finds Olver at some point. That’s all I got so far

#wheel of time #mat cauthon #wot au #ashaman!mat au #wot rambles #he may not be ta’veren but that won’t stop him from tripping head first into the plot

[weirdsht]

ENEMIES TO LOVERS CALE X READER PLSSSS😭😭

Fickle - Cale/Reader

a/n: idk if anon wanted a gn reader but I made a fem reader solely for the fact that my brain rotted at the thought of enemies to lovers waltz with pretty dresses. oh and the dynamic was inspired from "i'm stanning the prince" but like frenemies ver ig.

if anyone's curious this was 3667 words and 8 pages. also i had sm fun writing this that i might do stories with this as it's base hehe.

Tags: female reader, Gyerre!reader, massive novel spoiler, slight canon divergence?, enemies to lovers, but subtle because of their massive prides, misunderstanding, innuendos if you squint hard, light angst? (debatable tbh i dont think i made it sad tho but to be sure), open ending, Alberu pyscho analyzing his friends, god of death is a warning on its own, but he had little screen time, sarcastic Cale is my will to live, not beta read we die like Cale's slacker life

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

If there's something missing in the warnings let me know so I can add it

Any form of interaction toward the post is appreciated <333

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Masterlist

Everyone who knows Cale thought he would get along well with the beloved cousin of Antonio Gyerre, _____ Gyerre, the only princess of the Gyerre Duchy. Just from a few hours of observing one of them if you know the other you’ll immediately see their similarities; calm, craft, kind, helpful. Even the way they show off their power (in the rare instances they do) are similar.

It’s truly a waste, if only their political beliefs didn’t oppose each other they would’ve been great friends. Partners even.

But of course there are some things that the general public can’t possibly know that only those who are very close to the two know. Like for instance the crown prince of the Roan Kingdom, Alberu Crossman.

If you ask the quarter elf (and actually get an answer) he’ll probably laugh first then say that the two aren’t in conflict because of their political beliefs. In fact both of them are the crown prince’s supporters. With _____ even being his childhood friend that stemmed from their accidental meeting long ago that exposed him being part elf. But that’s a story for maybe never because it’s a dark part Alberu wants to forget.

“_____, there’s a meeting later after Cale announces his commander position. Are you gonna attend? I’m sure you’ll get something useful out of it.”

The prince innocently smiled, as if he doesn’t know that _____ always indulges him.

And so during midnight, after everyone had finished their initial preparation for the war, the three of them had a meeting for further planning. ‘Looting and scamming plans’ as the great and mighty Raon would put it.

“Your highness that’s a great plan but it’s lacking”

“Right I was about to say that, how amazing that for once you’re saying something right young master Cale, you truly are living up to the image the citizens have of you.”

The meeting was conducted smoothly. Of course part of that was the two indirectly fighting each other using their glib tongues and sarcastic tones with Alberu just chuckling and watching the entire thing unfold.

Despite the low-key arguments they always have during these meetings, the redhead commander and the profound business-minded person of the Gyerre duchy synergizes quite well. The plans they think of are very similar so when combined, one is left with a great plan with almost no loopholes. Their thought processes are also very similar, when one of them points out a possible mistake in a plan the other one is quick to bring up a solution as they’ve both been thinking of the same thing most of the time.

“While this meeting has been proven fruitful, I am now going to go back to my quarters as it is late. I thoroughly enjoyed my conversation with the young master of the Henituse household. But I do hope we won’t meet again, this lowly being cannot stand looking at the radiant face of our kingdom’s hero. One is happy enough to observe from a distance.”

Translation: don’t show your smug face with your overrated public perception to me ever again especially if we’re inside the same room.

“Oh no, please I should be the one saying that to you, your highness’ closest friend and confidant. How dare I even think of outdoing such an important person of our beloved kingdom.”

Translation: it should be you who should be avoiding me and simply stick to your business aiding the crown prince to the throne.

Tired from the load of bull she’s hearing, _____ turned around from the communication device and rolled her eyes that caused the crown prince to chuckle.

“Shall I call a maid to escort you to your room? Do remember that you have to attend the tea party the Orsena Duchy is holding in the afternoon.”

The tired lady simply puts her hand up to decline the offer before going on her merry way to her beloved bed, the very reason she likes staying at her childhood friend’s castle.

Alberu really can’t tell why the two have bad blood, acting like cats and dogs (but refined) whenever they meet. The two aren’t even competitive, both are probably too lazy to even think of competition knowing that they’re on the same side. Though they hiss at each other, they also know where to give credit when it’s due (of course sarcasm and backhanded compliments will follow suit).

So from whatever angle one looks at it, it seems as though they should at least be great acquaintances. Well no matter, the two know where to draw the line and it gives the blonde joy in life so he doesn’t dwell on it for too long.

Thus, with mainly the help of three cunning minds and glib tongues the war continued to be in their favor. Though suffering and losses are an inevitable part of war, the Henituse, now duchy, also gained a lot of merits out of it. Especially with most of the heroes being the famous Cale Henituse’s people.

Although there were losses, as the pillars of the kingdom the nobles must not let the citizens feel it. One of their jobs is to put the masses mind at ease as they secretly and thoroughly clean up everything in the background. Even though the war isn’t finished yet they have to show that everyone can still go on about their everyday lives in peace. Hence a celebration is in order. What better way to put everyone’s mind at ease than holding a ball.  

_____’s plan was to look around the hall for a minute then scurry to the nearest place she’ll be able to find and hide there for the rest of the night. Naturally nothing goes according to her vision as a certain prince seems to have a life mission to keep her party for as long as possible.

“May I have this dance my lady?”

Of course one of his tactics is focing Cale Henituse to ask the Gyerre princess for a dance. It’s a smart move really, with the commander’s large contribution to their feats, and everyone knowing that _____ also had a hand in strategizing everything makes everyone’s eyes to be on the powerful duo thus leaving no room to decline. 

“It is my honor young master Cale”

A dashing spectacle of soft purple and gold captures everyone’s eyes as the two of the most arguably influential people in the kingdom, continent even, occupy the dance floor. Everyone can’t help but watch at how graceful and effortless the two dance.

Cale spins his dance partner as if he's merely spinning a ribbon in the air and lead’s her and lead’s her exquisitely. While all of _____’s movements are one in such elegance that one thinks they can see the gold flowers embroidered in her light purple tulle gown to be alive and fluttering. Helping the two paint such a fairy tale of a performance.

“Say, young master. I suppose you’re not someone who’ll stoop so low to the point of copying someone else's attire for the night right? I’m sure the beloved young master’s outfit was also prepared by his equally beloved hyung.”

Translation: it’s so you to copy me but since I know Alberu had a hand in arranging your clothes tonight I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt

“Why yes princess. You know how the crown prince is, he doesn’t take no for an answer no matter how hard I try to refute. In fact, if I didn’t know the prince was like that I would’ve assumed that you’ve committed piracy. Then again I know that your highness is far above such petty, pointless crimes.”

Translation: how dare you think i’m trying to copy you? If it wasn’t for Alberu’s doing I wouldn’t even think of stooping down to your unattractive sense of style.

As if to strengthen his point, Cale brings their bodies closer with such vigor that got the other ladies whispering about how they wished their fiances and suitors were as romantic as he is. Of course the beloved granddaughter of Sonata Gyerre didn’t back out with her viscous eye contact that other people thought were enthusiastic.

Simultaneous with the crescendo of the music were their movements. As the piece gets more intense so does their movements. The two have forgotten about everything else. All they see are purple and gold flutters of the hem gown and the tailcoat of the long jacket. The intense eyes looking at each other filled with animosity that none of them know where it stemmed from. Intense feeling of adrenaline rushing through their veins in a competition to outdo the other, and the feeling of warm hands holding each other close to the point of it being painful.

While the two got lost in their own world, everyone else cannot help but stop in their tracks and watch in awe. It was even to the point that the two strategists are the only ones occupying the dance area.

‘They make such a good couple. Look at the way they compliment each other and how they dance with such passion, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were just hiding their relationship.’

That’s probably what’s running on everyone’s minds as they misunderstand the battle going on between the two purple clad figures.

“Hmmm, *Aram Khachaturian Waltz… I must say, you have impeccable taste in music. You managed to choose a piece that suits us. But, young lord. If I didn’t know any better I’d think that the possessive grip you have on my waist is trying to leave marks on purpose so the maids tomorrow will get the wrong idea.”

“Of course, it is basic knowledge for a gentleman to be able to choose a fitting piece for his lady. Certainly not my lady, please, I apologize for my actions as I am just trying to not lose you to the intensity of the piece. Though I can say the same thing for you and your sharp nails. What would my butler think when he sees scratch marks on me the next day milady.”

Smile and spin ladies and gentlemen, smile and spin. You mustn't let the enemy know how much they’re getting under your skin. As the music mellows down so as the adrenaline and intensity of the dancing pair. Hence why they are back to making small talks.

“Your Highness you were the one that arranged their outfits tonight right? Is there any reason as to why they seem to be matching? Are you also perhaps rooting for the two of them too?”

_____ can hear one of the noble ladies speak to Alberu as they sway near the blonde’s position. Tapping Cale’s arm twice, they silently communicated to subtly stay near that area to eavesdrop.

“Oh hardly no, their private affairs are for them to deal with unless they confide in me about it. I simply just wanted to show off the close relationship we three have. See, even I have light purple and gold on my outfit and this matching beautiful brooch I had the finest of artisans make for the three of us.” 

The two tuning in on the conversation can’t help but lightly scoff at the response provided. Everyone can see that the purple are merely accents of the prince’s suit while it is the main color of the pair’s outfit. Still, knowing they cannot do anything yet as the piece is just about to finish, the two settled on waltzing away to the center when they heard the topic shift from the brooch to the crown prince’s love life.

“You have great dancing skills milord, I thoroughly enjoyed our time together.”

“Likewise milady, now if you allow me to escort you further so we can talk business while waiting for our dazzling prince”

Translation: I’m sure you heard the load of bull Alberu just said so I need you to talk to me to make a petty comeback because I know you and so I know you’re up for it

“The pleasure is mine, I’m sure it's going to be a pleasant conversation”

“Then if you allow me to lead the way…”

If Alberu felt the cold chill run down his spine as he was talking to vassals, then he did a very good job at hiding it. A decision he’ll regret making later on as two pairs of glowing eyes grins at him with malicious intent they like to call ‘payback’.

After that, their relationship got a bit better. There’s still bad blood but thanks to the common headache they share they got along a bit better.

They started getting to know each other outside of the initial image they have of each other and notice the similar traits and life goals they have. 

“Cale Henituse only second to the crown prince for being the most wanted bachelor? What? Is this for real? This man is surely doing witchcraft to make his press image look that good. This can’t be the same Cale Henituse I know who isn’t competent at taking care of himself.”

At her words, red eyes maliciously snapped their way to her figure to stare at amusement and resentment.

“Stare at me like that all you want, it doesn’t help my case that you’re bleeding from every orifice of your body right now. Makes me wonder how much trauma you gave everyone who personally saw you like this during the Henituse war. No wonder why they went ballistic. Of course the same thing can’t be applied to me as I will be more than glad to laugh at your demise with front row seats.” 

Poor young master Cale can’t even make a proper argument as he is too busy to strive to live another day. Contrary to the princess’ lips that spouts poison like a viper, her hands tell a different tale. Soft, gentle hands cradle the commander’s matted hair as she lightly wipes down the blood causing his usual well cared hair to be this atrocious. Beside him is a baby black dragon who fell asleep from the fatigue of his awakening.

“I hate you but I have to give you credit for being the cause of Alberu’s hilarious face when you dropped everything on him all at once then left to go self-destruct. Anyways I haven’t seen Alberu make a face like that since I told him from what house I’m from.”

The annoyed, but in pain man tried to wheeze out an answer but was quickly shushed with benign hands that just finished wiping his face and is now cleaning up the sleeping dragon.

“Don’t even try talking. Yes, yes I know that look, you’re wondering how did I even get here and if I just went here to mess with you. Well let’s just say that I have my ways and this is me repaying you for the amazing scene you made with Alberu.”

Cale decided on whether he should argue back, but upon the return of warm hands that delicately took care of him he decided to let it pass for once.

Thus, Lady Gyerre took care of the famous commander as his plate fixed itself. This made it easier for everyone else to do their respective tasks seeing that the young master is in good hands.

And if the first thing Cale saw as he woke up was a certain lady’s head sleeping on his side. They didn’t talk about it. And if the first thing _____  felt when she woke were big, warm hands caressing her hair softly. They also spoke no word of that.

Instead, the two continued on with their lives as normally as they could after that. 

It doesn’t help that they synergize well so they work with each other quite a lot. It also doesn’t help that since Raon is now relieved, the dragon doesn’t hesitate in asking _____ to stay over and indulge him further. It most certainly doesn’t help that the two of them are good at hiding their feelings, making it seem like they hate each other to the bone with their usual fights. 

And it really doesn’t help them that they seem closer than ever no matter how much they try to push each other away.

Late night talks, comfortable skinship, the way they magnetized to each other unconsciously, one constantly seeking out the other especially when it comes to planning.

Yeah, it really doesn't help them one bit.

There’s also the pesky voice that has been watching over _____ since she was a kid that turned out to be the God of Death.

“So you’re telling me that the other kid you’ve been playing with was that guy. Then you told me that if we could meet we would’ve been great playmates? Oh and you’re also the God of Death everyone kept complaining about… I can see where they’re coming from…”

That conversation resulted in the feather pen, a relic of the said god, hardening and smacking the poor princess across the face. Of course _____ Gyerre is petty so she threw the pen in a corner and refused to talk to the God until he explained everything and let Alberu help with the Sealed God’s test.

As the whole thing continues on and everyone gets tired of the two, Alberu Crossman can’t help and try to figure out where the animosity even came from in the first place. Just why are they hostile to each other at the beginning with no explanations. Just what was the thing they saw that made them like that.

If it wasn’t for the Sealed God’s test maybe Alberu wouldn’t have been able to piece everything together.

The two are so similar that they even share their hatred for people who sacrifice themselves  without realizing they do exactly just that.

[funny, so that’s how it is]

Alberu laughed to himself one night as he thought about it. Of course his laugh didn’t go past Cale, err Kim Rok Soo as he looks at the tiger as if he transformed into something worse than his current form.

But war is war and there’s little to no time for anything else when you’re focused on not letting this White Star wannabe take over the world. Hence why, despite all the clear signs brooding over them, both opted to continue playing hide and seek of feelings in the middle of war and everything is left up in the air.

Still, humans in general are fickle things that don’t realize what they have been caring for until the direst of moments.

“CALE I SWEAR TO GOD DON’T YOU HAVE A BRAIN? IF YOU DIE HERE RIGHT NOW I’M GOING TO PERSONALLY BRING YOUR SOUL BACK IN THAT BODY JUST SO I CAN KILL YOU AGAIN” 

Those words and the back of the one who said it was the last thing Cale registered before he fainted.

When _____ felt uneasy her mind immediately went to Cale and his self-sacrificial tendencies. Good thing that she still has the gift the God of Death gave her a long time ago.

“Listen, the kid I’ve talked about before is coming here soon. I’m sure you’ll get acquainted well. That’s why I’m gifting this to you, you can use this to locate wherever that punk is and go there. Fret not for you can also easily teleport anywhere as long as you have my permission.”

She never thought that she’ll actually use it to locate Cale, nor did she ever think that she’ll be panicking over the man and what he's doing.

Luckily, she arrived in time. Cale just finished using instant and is very weak, near him was someone trying to take advantage of the chaotic situation and finish the redhead off. More lucky that the Gyrre princess has quick reflexes and manages to block off attacks from the bear. 

“I’ve heard what the situation is, Raon I’ll hold them off! Just focus on teleporting us out of here!”

A swarm of the remaining bears and black mages left in the Endable Kingdom continue to attack the three. While _____ is a pretty high ranking swordsman, it cannot be denied that she went to the enemy's territory on a whim and with no proper armor. There’s also the fact that she isn’t simply fighting. Rather, she’s protecting the one guy she swore to leave to die. Thus, by the time the three teleported to Puzzle city the two humans have fainted; one with a broken plate and the other one suffering from a large wound inflicted by the enemy.

Humans and their emotions are fickle things. It’s funny how a few words and actions will make them spiral down again. But it works out because these humans know that they are like that, they understand one another. They know that that’s exactly what makes them human.

That’s why when Cale first woke up, after getting his plate fixed again, and the first one he looked for was _____ no one said anything.

When he wordlessly insists on taking care of the unconscious lady no one dared question how he balances all of his tasks in the middle of war.

And when his family sees him getting lost in his own records late at night they don’t disturb. They simply watch over their young master, making sure that he won’t hurt himself as he autopilots his way to juggling making plans and taking care of Lady Gyerre.

Indeed humans are such fickle creatures dense enough to not realize they’ve been tightly holding on to something unless it’s already too late.

But at the same time that very fickleness is what gives them the ability to do an entire 180 once they realize their mistake.

That’s why in his own way, Cale will surely make it up. Set things straight between the two of them, and not let his mistakes on Earth be the same sins he commits in his new life.

*aram khachaturian waltz is the piece that got me brainrotting about the waltz I'm sorry but it gives massive enemies to lovers waltz scene jsdfjaksdgfsdg

#le asks #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #cale henituse #lcf #lotcf #totcf #alberu crossman #raon miru #lcf god of death #cale x reader #cale henituse x reader #lotcf x reader #totcf x reader

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XIV: Away To Nowhere Plains

nav | master list | playlist | pin board | chapter XIII

summary: a welcome home party in hawkins, a break from the whirlwind of rock n roll fame.

tags/warning: flirting, consumption of alcohol, weed, swearing, normal chill stuff nothing insane, LOTS of use of Y/n sorry guys nicknames are for couples!!!!! slow burn, mutual pining, tension as per usual

a/n: I MISSED YOU GUYS. i’m so sorry this took so long to update, i was following paramore around the east coast for a few weeks like a crazy person. should be posting waaaay more regularly now. please enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. please reblog and comment to support the author!

—

December 1986

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you wake, Eddie’s pretty face slowly coming into focus. “Hey, sleepyhead. How’re you feeling?” His voice is soft, soothing to your ears.

“Better this time around. I think you chased the nightmare off, I dreamt of you instead.” You weren’t planning on telling him, you blame your fatigue for the confession.

“Yeah? Was it hot?” He jokes, and you bite your bottom lip because yeah, it definitely was. “It was, wasn’t it?!” Eddie hops out of bed and starts pacing the floor. “Let me guess, we were somewhere cool, like the woods. We were camping! Yeah, and you forgot your tent, so we had to share, and bing bang boom we’re waking up the wildlife.” He looks back to you, eager for your confession.

You cackle at his guess. “Not even close, man. You were a fucking rockstar. Got up on stage at The Garden, and everyone was there for you. Kicked some fucking ass, might I add.” You leave the part where you jumped on stage out, not wanting to give Eddie any ideas for future Corroded Coffin shows.

“Can I tell you something?” He plops back down next to you, shaking the bed. “Remember the party? When you told me the band could be something, and I told you that was never really the plan?” You nod, and he sighs, “Well. I was lying. It’s been the only thing I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. What you said meant a lot to me, and I wanted to believe you, but we’d just met, and I wasn’t sure if you were being serious or if you wanted to get in my pants.” He grins, and you know he’s joking.

“It was both, obviously!” You backhand him, and he fakes being hurt. “But mostly the former, I really meant it. I do mean it! You’re talented, you’ve got a great group of friends.”. You open your arms, and he scoops you into his, wrapping his legs around your waist like a koala. He mumbles something into your neck, sounding embarrassed. “What was that?”

He removes his head from your shoulder. With his legs still curled around you, he grasps you by the shoulders, as if to steady your already unmoving frame. He looks deeply into your eyes, and though he looks exhausted, he is absolutely stunning. You fight everything in you to jump him there, forget about a night out with friends, and just ravage the boy in your arms all night instead.

“I love you.”

You swear your heart stops. In fact, you are definitely dead. You died, flew into some deluded version of Catholic Heaven where you get everything you want, no consequence. Eddie tries to read your expression, and you hope to god he can because you sure don’t know what the fuck to feel. “You don’t have to say it back, in fact, don’t. Not yet. But I mean it.”

“I-“ Eddie cuts you off with a kiss, and you let him. You close the tiny gap between his chest and yours, and kiss him to convey all the feelings your words aren’t capable of.

“Now, put on something sexy, we’re going out tonight.” Eddie rolls off of you, snatching his towel from his chair on the way out of the room.

Holy shit.

-

Your POV

“Is anyone here to pick us up?” You ask, linking your arm with Steve’s as you exit into the terminal. The airport is bustling with families on their way to Disneyworld and Martha’s Vineyard for their summer vacations, meanwhile you’re about to spend a week in one of the most traumatizing towns of your young adulthood.

“Yeah, Nance and Jonathan are- and speak of the devil!”

Nancy and Jonathan approach from the other side of your gate, and you take off running. Nance catches you in her embrace, squeezing you tightly as you fall into her arms. “Hi, baby!” You squeal, keeping your old friend close.

“Hi, honey! It’s so nice to see you!” When she lets you go, you move to hug Jonathan as Robin and Steve say their hellos. Eddie and the guys are further back, sending waves to them. Nancy doesn’t accept that, though, and throws herself into Eddie. “Hey, Ed.” She mumbles into his shoulder.

-

Eddie’s POV

“Hey, Nance. Long time.”

“Too long!” She separates herself from him and backhands his chest. “Visit more!”

Eddie scoffs. “Hey, you’re in Boston now, don’t give me that shit!”

“Sure, but I come home every summer. I know you’re big and famous, but this is still your home!”

“How is the big guy?” He’s talking about Dustin, eyes betraying a glimpse of who Eddie used to be.

“He’s good. He misses you. We didn’t tell him, or any of them actually, that you were coming.” Nancy’s shy, suddenly.

“Because we weren’t sure if you actually were.” Jonathan explains, and Eddie nods, pressing his lips together. It makes sense, he’s made plenty of empty promises to visit already, only finally pulling himself together because of you.

“But you did! You came! Both of you came, which is even crazier. But it’s great! We’re having a party tonight, Steve’s hosting, we can all drive over together.” Nancy blurts, her mind moving faster than her mouth can.

“A party?” You ask, voice raising an octave higher than it usually sits. You sound nervous.

“Well, what us casual folk consider a party. You guys will probably see it as a pathetic attempt at one.”

“Oh, please!” Steve interjects, “My parties are never pathetic. I was the king!”

Eddie groans dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, man. We know, you peaked in high school.”

“I did not.” Steve crosses his arms, and your laugh draws Eddie’s attention back to you.

“I for one would love a Hawkins style party.” You add finally, a real smile spread across your face. “It’ll be nice to see everyone.”

Nancy nods, taking your carry on from your grasp. “Great! Let’s get you settled.”

“Did you book us a hotel? Eddie asks, surprised. That’s above any level of friendship he’s had with these two specifically.

They both laugh. “A hotel? You’re staying with us!” Oh, fuck.

—

Your POV

“So, my parents happen to be away for the week you’re all here,” Nancy starts, unlocking the door to her childhood home, a building that housed many a party, many a D&D game. “so we have it to ourselves! The couches up here and downstairs, the guest room, and obviously Robin and Y/n will be sleeping with me, to catch me up on the Hollywood Gossip.” Nancy winks at you, and you smile. You’ve missed her, missed Hawkins, despite everything.

“When are the kids getting here?” You ask. You mean Max, specifically. You owe her some money. Eddie and the guys make their way downstairs before Nancy answers,

“They’re at Dustin’s, they’ll be over later today. Something about needing to catch up on the news?”

You bring your palm to your face. “Shit. I was gonna tell you over drinks, lots and lots of drinks, but uh, there’s a rumor flying around that Eddie and I are, y’know,” You trail off, fidgeting like an embarrassed child.

Nancy brings her manicured hand to her open mouth, quick to hide her pity. (It doesn’t work.) “Oh, god. Are you? Sorry, that was rude. How are you handling it?”

You laugh, unfazed by her curiosity. “I don’t really know what we are right now,”

“So you’re something?” She smirks.

You roll your eyes. “We’ll always be something.”

She shrugs, a truce. “What are you gonna tell them? Tell Dustin? You know how he gets.”

You shake your head. “That’s Eddie’s problem.”

Nancy chirps a laugh, placing your suitcase at the end of her bed, and Robin’s backpack beside it. “Fair enough. But didn’t Max bet you the break up wouldn’t last?”

You snort, “Yeah, I owe the kid fifty bucks.”

“If I’d known we were putting money on it, I’d be freaking rich!” Robin teases, and you try to smother your grin. She’s right, she’d been betting on you and Eddie reconciling for the past two years.

“Sorry, Bob. Ya snooze, ya lose!”

“Speaking of snoozing, I need a nap before this party. Pretty sure I broke my neck on the plane.”

-

Nancy rouses you and Robin from your slumbers gently, shaking your shoulders while whispering that “It’s time to get up, rockstars!” The time on her old alarm clock blinks 4:15PM, both you and Robin had slept the day away. You take your time getting up, stretching your limbs slowly as your eyes adjust to the sunlight, streaming through the blinds. Your stomach growls loudly, and Nancy chuckles. “Pizza’s on the way! We’ll eat before we go to Steve’s. For now, though, go get dressed. Remember your bathing suits!” She’s in Mom mode, taking care of you and Robin while running around like a crazy person.

You dig through your suitcase, coming up empty handed. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Yes you do!” She takes your suitcase from you, pulling out the skimpy bikini from beneath your piles of clothing. It’s black with cherries on it, and teeny tiny. You bite your lip in embarrassment. It’s a cute bikini, but it’s super inappropriate to be wearing around the kids.

Robin seems to read your mind, though. “They’re all adults now, y/n. You don’t need to walk around in a mumu. Plus,” she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, “we both know who’ll love this number.”

You groan, snatching the fabric from her grip. “Fine! But you have to wear your yellow one. I’m not gonna be the only one walking around almost-naked.”

She giggles, agreeing. “Doesn’t bother me!” She finds her suit in her backpack and leaves the room to let you change.

-

Eddie’s POV

“So, why are we staying here if we’re having the party at your place?” Eddie asks before biting into his pizza.

“Because Nancy insisted on staying here, but she can’t host a party to save her life. Plus, I have a pool.”

“Your parents have a pool. You live in a tiny apartment in Seattle with two other people.”

Steve shoves Eddie’s shoulder. “Man, shut up. At least I have friends to live with.” Eddie’s face falls, and Steve notices immediately. “I’m sorry. That was too far.”

He shrugs. “It’s alright, you’re not exactly wrong.” He’s glad he’s not home right now, it gets lonely there. The thought of seeing all of his friends again, though, is still overwhelming him. He has no idea what he’ll say to Dustin, or worse, what Dustin will say to him.

Before Eddie can panic further, though, you and Robin enter the kitchen. You’re in shorts and a tight black t-shirt, the strings of your bikini visible underneath. Your short hair is clipped to keep it out of your face, the vibrant color having faded since the beginning of the tour. You send a small smile his way, melting Eddie’s insecurities, even temporarily. He can’t seem to peel his eyes from you as you walk over to the counter, helping yourself to a slice of pizza. He has to fight the urge to walk over to you, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his head on your shoulder. It practically pains him, when you’re out of his reach.

“Eds?” You snap him out of his trance, waving a hand in front of him.

“What?” He shakes his head, as if to rid the image from his brain. “Sorry.”

You grin shyly, and Eddie could melt at the sight. “I asked if you’re ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m all set.”

Your smile widens, and you hold your hand out for him. He takes it, expecting you to drag him out to the car, but you pull him hooking, hooking your arm around his. “Okay, then. Shall we?”

He can feel the eyes of the room on the pair of you, his cheeks warming. You don’t seem to notice, only looking up at him, your eyes shiny and warm.

-

Mere hours later, Steve’s parents’ house is full and loud, music bumping through the surround sound speakers. Eddie’s in the kitchen nursing a beer when Dustin enters. He’s grown taller and more muscular since the last time Eddie’s seen him, and the beginnings of a beard pepper his face, making him look more like a man than the last time he’d seem the boy. Susie’s on his arm, smiling kindly when she meets Eddie’s eyes. “You wanna drink, Dusty?” She asks sweetly, and Dustin nods. She exits the kitchen, leaving the boys alone.

“What’s up, Dusty?” Eddie tries to joke, extending his hand for Dustin to shake. He swats it away, instead pulling Eddie into a much needed hug.

“Hey, Eddie.” His greeting is muffled by Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie returns the hug without shame, wrapping his arms around Dustin’s shoulders. The two stay like that, long lost brothers seeing each other for the first time in years.

“Missed you, man.” Eddie finally says when Dustin breaks the hug, holding Eddie at arm’s length. “You're lookin’ great.”

“I’ve been hittin’ the gym a little, check this out,” Dustin flexes a bicep, the beginnings of muscle protruding from his arm. Eddie chuckles, nodding an approval.

When the small talk dies, neither speaks at first, unsure of where to take the conversation besides the elephant in the room. “How’s tour treating you?” Dustin finally asks, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Susie returns with two sodas, handing one to Dustin and sipping the other.

Eddie shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. “It’s been alright, pretty standard stuff.”

Dustin chuckles, and the sound is deeper than Eddie’s used to. “Standard, huh? Touring with the ex love of your life?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right to the point, huh?”

“Obviously, man! I haven’t seen you in years, and the one time you come back, it’s with all this new information I’m not aware of! You know I hate being out of the loop!”

“I know, and I owe you a lot of information. Trust me, I wanna tell you everything,” Before Eddie can continue, you’re stumbling into the kitchen, giggling drunkenly with Robin as you wobble to the coolers in the corner.

“Hi, boys! Oh my god, it can’t be. Is that Dustin freaking Henderson?!” You gasp dramatically, pulling a big smile from Dustin as he approaches you. You swing your arms around his neck, having to get on tiptoes now to reach him. He wraps his arms around you, and you sway as you hug him tightly.

“Hey, Y/n.” He greets warmly, then releases you to hug Robin with the same welcoming arms. “Hi, Bob.”

“Hey, buddy.” Robin hums, rubbing Dustin’s back as she hugs him closely.

“Sorry to interrupt, I know you guys have a lot of catching up to do. But we’re about to play chicken, and I need a partner.” You look from Dustin to where Eddie is, leaning against the counter, opening his fourth beer of the night.

“What, me?”

You roll your eyes. “Obviously, silly. C’mon! It’ll be fun.” You’re wasted, eyes glazed over and posture loose. It’s impossible to say no to you.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay!” You sing, hooking your arm through Robins again. The two of you exit the kitchen, into the back yard. Eddie can’t look away as you peel your shirt over your head, revealing a tiny black bikini top.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Munson.” Dustin taunts as Eddie pulls his stare from your silhouette.

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? You can’t tell me that is how friends look at each other,” He mimicks Eddie, staring open mouthed at the wall, eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s pathetic!”

“This is why I haven’t come back here, Henderson.” Eddie teases, backhanding the kid’s stomach. “Can’t deal with your know-it-all bullshit.”

Dustin snorts a laugh. “Hey, man, I'm just callin’ it like I see it.”

-

Your POV

You dip your toes into the cool water while you wait, letting the feeling contrast with the alcohol induced warmth of your body. You feel a presence sit next to you, another pair of feet meeting yours under the water.

“Hey, kiddo.” You greet her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“What’s up, big shot?” Max leans her head on yours, her way of hugging you without committing to it. She looks the same, despite being a little taller, and maybe her hair’s gotten a little longer.

“Oh, y’know. Same old.”

She snorts. “Word on the street is you owe me some money.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get that to you this week. Nice to see you, too.”

“Hey! It is nice to see you! I haven’t in a while, I’m sorry.” Max wraps her arms around your shoulders. “I missed you, y’know.”

“I missed you too, Maxie. How are things?”

“They’re alright. I don’t live here anymore, that’s a big plus.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. “Moved out after college, got a place in the city with Lucas. I’ll show you some time this week maybe?”

You nod. “For sure.”

“But enough about my endeavors, how are you? Y’know, with all this shit going on?”

You shake your head. “I dunno, dude. Weird, I guess. Everything’s weird.”

“I take it you and Eddie aren’t officially back together, then?”

“Not exactly. But not, not together. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all. Good to see you two haven’t changed too much.”

You giggle, nudging her shoulder with yours. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, c’mon! You two used to dance around the idea of dating before you started. You think we didn’t notice? I was fifteen, not stupid! It took you so much time to admit you liked each other, then even more time to figure out you needed to break up. Now here we are again, watching Eddie and Y/n tiptoe around their feelings for each other.”

You sigh, the alcohol not letting you fully grasp what she’s saying. “I hate when you’re right.”

She grins smugly. “I know, and I’m sorry. It happens a lot.”

Before you can respond, Eddie throws the screen door open. “Who’s ready to play some chicken?” He’s very drunk, but not in the sad and angry way you’re used to seeing him lately.

Max gives you another grin, and you roll your eyes before getting to your feet. “You’re in for it now, team Scoops.” You point across the pool, where Robin and Steve stand in their bathing suits discussing strategy. Eddie shoves his pants to the ground, revealing a too small pair of swim trunks you're sure have belonged to him since freshman year. He tugs his shirt over his head, discarding it with his pants in the grass. You do your best not to stare at the tattoos scattered on his torso, littering his arms. You refuse to look further than his chest, not risking even a glance at his waist, his hips. Instead of gawking like you want to, you pay close attention to undoing the button of your cutoff shorts, shimmying out of them and tossing them onto the chair beside you.You’re completely exposed, standing only in the tiniest bikini you own because it was the only one you could find before leaving.

As much as you don’t want to draw his attention, the feeling of Eddie’s eyes on your body surges your confidence. Without looking back, you get into the pool, taking each step slowly to adjust to the temperature. It’s fairly warm, and you say a quick thank you prayer. You definitely cannot be walking around with pointy nips right now. Eddie wades in behind you, splashing you in his wake, steps clumsy. Once he’s settled, he turns to face you, squatting so the water reaches his chest.

“You ready, sweetheart?” You try not to seem fazed by his slip. He stopped calling you that after you broke up, and the only times he has since then, he’s apologized for it. Now, though, with his guard down and his judgment obscured, he smirks at you like he knows what he’s just done. You pretend you don’t get it.

“Sure thing, Munson.” No pretty boy, not even this drunk. He’s not yours, not now.

If he notices, he doesn’t let it show, keeping the same expression as he motions you forward. You’ve done this hundreds of times, over the course of the few summers you had in Hawkins. You and Eddie used to drive over on Fridays and stay the weekend with Rob, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, babysitting the kids and enjoying your time as immature adults while you still could. It feels the same, even after all those years have passed, you’re still in the same small town, with the same group of friends, playing the same stupid games. You climb onto his shoulders, and try not to react when his hands grasp tightly on each thigh, locked on either side of his head.

“Alright, listen up!” Dustin has gathered the rest of your friends beside the pool, while scattered guests you barely remember from your semester in high school crowd around to spectate. “This is Drown The Chicken. The first person to fall off of their partner loses. There will be three rounds, each one five minutes. A shot of liquor will be taken by the loser after each round. If both opponents fail to knock the other off of their partner, a tiebreaker will take place. Today, the tie breaker will be…” He pauses for dramatic effect, and Mike takes the opportunity to slap his legs in a drumroll. “A shotgun race!” The whole backyard cheers, and you groan. The worst thing about these kids being in college, is that they’re too young to realize drinking is not the only thing adults do. It is one of the most fun, though.

“Both members of each team will shotgun a malt beverage of their choosing. First one to finish wins the tiebreaker for their team, and therefore the round! At the end, the losers will have to drink a shot of the winners’ choosing!” The four of you nod in understanding. Regardless, you know you’ll have to drink at some point. “On your mark, get set, GO!” Will clicks his timer, and the party guests start cheering, egging you on. You hear shouts of, “I’ve got ten on Munson and L/n!” and “Kick his ass!” and Robin reaches for you suddenly, catching you off guard. The music is cranked through the speakers, giving the match a soundtrack of Pixies’ Here Comes Your Man. Steve wades toward you, Robin clutching a handful of his precious hair to keep her balance. You take advantage of his winces of “Ouch, Rob, not the hair!” and shove, sending Robin almost entirely backwards. Steve catches her at the last second, wobbling as he tries to keep her out of the water.

“Lucky shot!” Robin shouts, stretching her arms out toward you. You lean back, and Eddie catches you, gripping your thighs tightly on his shoulders. He moves with you, saving your equilibrium, and you stretch towards Robin. The two of you tangle your arms, while the boys below you swat at each other, hurling meaningless insults and taunts. Finally, you gain the advantage, shoving Robin’s shoulder with enough force to send her backwards, slipping quickly from Steve’s grasp. She splashes into the water, submerged up to her neck. “Shit.”

“That’s one for team Hellfire!” Dustin claps his hands loudly as he hands your opponents each a shot, and you giggle as Robin struggles to climb back onto Steve’s back, their skin now slippery with pool water.

“Nice moves.” Eddie cranes his neck, and you meet his eyes. His face is soft with intoxication, his guard lowered. Yours is higher than ever, though, and you look away before he can reel you in any further.

“Round two!” You repeat the motions, this time while Smells Like Teen Spirit blares from the radio, and your former classmates yelling and cheering for their preferred team. Robin catches you by surprise, kicking one of your knees enough to throw you off balance, then shoving you to the side. You topple off of Eddie’s shoulders, into the cool water. You stay there for a second, keeping your eyes closed to avoid looking at Eddie’s surely disappointed expression.

But when you dare to peek through one eye, the other still tightly shut, he’s smiling at you. Not his usual toothy grin, the one he gives to his friends. His smile is soft, lips pressed together as if to stop them from quivering with a rogue giggle.

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. You have to remember he’s drunk.

“What now, Munson?!” Steve sends a splash at Eddie, and he scoffs in mock disgust.

“Boys, please, you’ll have plenty of time to play mermaids after Eddie and I kick your ass.” Eddie giggles as you climb his back, repositioning yourself on top of him. It’s more difficult, now that both of you are soaked from the neck down. Dustin hands you both a shot, Eddie’s whiskey and yours vodka, and you both down them easily.

“Final round, people! This round wins it all! See Max to confirm your bets. Are the teams ready?” The four of you give variations of a confirmation, and Dustin shouts, once again, “On your mark… get set… GO!” You square your body to hold better balance, as Eddie and Steve approach each other slowly. Eddie’s hands grip your thighs tightly, and you hope he can’t feel the heat growing between your legs. Not now.

You continue to dodge and dance around each other, narrowly missing one another as you swing your limbs, stretching and reaching for Robin as Eddie tries to sneak around Steve’s guard. After five long minutes, Dustin startles you with the newly found volume in his voice. “TIME’S UP! WE HAVE A TIE!” You can hear the conflicting emotions of the crowd, probably correlating to their own predictions. “Y’all know what that means!” The four of you sulk as you leave the water, defeated by the dreaded tie breaker.

Lucas passes you each a can and a miscellaneous tool to puncture it with. You’ve barely grown to like beer, even after months of being surrounded by it, but it���s the only thing available that you’re physically able to shotgun. You’ve chosen a Red Stripe, in honor of your teammate.

“The rules of the tiebreaker are as follows: You will puncture your can when I say go, and you will chug for thirty seconds before opening the top. The first person to finish their beverage wins the tiebreaker for their team. Got it?” Eddie groans a confirmation, while you and Robin nod and Steve taps each side of his face lightly to psych himself out. Dustin counts you off again, and you each stab your cans, quickly rushing the liquid into your mouth. Will counts from 30 out loud as he watches the timer, and the crowd is eerily quiet, focused on the race in front of them.

“30! Crack ‘em open!” You do as you’re told, quickly snapping the tab of the can to relieve the pressure. You can tell you’re slowing down, grossed out by the bread flavored piss water sliding down your throat. Luckily, though, Eddie is devouring his own, his head tilted to make sure he’s getting all of it. The feeling between your legs has returned, and you quickly shoot your gaze to Robin, who’s also struggling to finish her beer. In reality, this is a race between Steve and Eddie, winner takes all. All in this case is bragging rights, and probably a horrible hangover.

Eddie is the first to finish, lifting the can above his head in celebration. Thank god, too, because you definitely shouldn’t consume another shot.

“We have a winner!” Dustin runs between you and Eddie, hoisting each of your wrists to the air as the backyard guests cheer and boo and yell. You chance another look in Eddie’s direction, admiring his whoops of victory as he high fives his bandmates.

_

Eddie’s POV

It’s 3AM as the party starts to die, and people he’d never spoken to in high school approach him to say their goodbyes. Eddie is pulled into hugs, handshakes, and conversations with his former bullies, and girls that never looked at him twice. Though his eighteen year old self would be relishing in this sudden change, he’s tired. He knows it’s not real, that none of these people even care about his art. They care that he’s famous, and that they know someone famous. But the only person in this room that knows him is behind him, falling asleep on the basement sofa.

“Hey, Y/n?” Eddie is finally able to approach you, after breaking away from another pointless conversation. “You wanna get going?”

Your eyes slide to his face, glassy and warm with inebriation. “Aw, you’re leaving?” You pout, staring up at him, and he could melt. You’d been talking about going home not five minutes ago, but it’s clear your brain has stalled.

“Only if you wanna. We can stay as long as you want.”

“I can come with you?”

He can't help but laugh, you’re so cute like this, so soft. “Of course you can.”

“I thought you were sick of me.” Your face slips slightly, lips twitching into a frown.

“What?” Eddie shifts so his whole body faces you. “I could never be sick of you.”

You shrug, clearly not understanding the gravity of his words. “I dunno, we’ve been in close quarters since tour started, I don’t mind giving you space if you need it.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to feel his own drunken insecurity surface. “Are you sick of me?” It’s barely a whisper, but you hear him.

Your eyes widen quickly, shocked at his words. “No! Eddie, of course not.”

“Okay, good.” He flashes you what he knows is an unconvincing smile. “You wanna go home?”

You shake your head. “Can we go for a walk?”

-

Predictably, you end up back at Hawkins High, the parking lot pitch black in the buzz of a summer night. Even looking at it, Eddie feels the chill of his memories washing over him. This is where he was stuck for six years, where Steve had shoved him into a locker their freshman year, where Jason Carver had made his final senior year miserable. It is the building that harbors Eddie’s darkest thoughts, where the seed of his shame had sprouted from. Where he had to deal with Chrissy’s death, and being framed for it.

But it was also where he met you. Where he’d introduced you to some of his closest friends, where he sat with you at lunch every day, dancing around each other until after midterms. As much as Eddie still hates to admit it, and as horrendously tacky as it sounds, high school is where he’d fallen in love.

Eddie lets his eyes wander in the darkness, knowing you won’t catch him in your hazy state. Your arms hang limply by your sides as you stare up at the school building, seeming to admire it. He wonders how being here must make you feel, as someone that left as soon as they could. It hadn’t been easy for you either, restarting your entire social life in your senior year.

“Do you ever miss it?” Your words catch him off guard, your voice almost inaudible even in the quiet.

“Hell no,” He scoffs, and feels you shift beside him. “I spent way too much extra time here to even think of missing it.”

“Okay, maybe not the actual, physical place. But, don't you miss how easy it was?”

“You’re joking, right? We fought an underground of Hell Monsters, Y/n, that wasn’t what I’d call easy.”

You groan, and he chuckles at your drunken frustration. “Christ, okay, I mean how small our world was, before all that hell monster shit. We didn’t have to worry about people outside of Hawkins, outside of the little bubble of our friends.”

“And you miss that?” He’s genuinely curious. You had always been looking to move, spread out beyond the small town your parents dragged you to. He never expected you to miss it.

You shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. Despite everything that happened, I was happy here. I had a home.”

Eddie’s vision blurs with the implication of your words. Of course, you’d had a physical home, but you'd also had him. And Steve, Robin, Nance, the kids. You’d never had a solid friend group in Boston.

“I miss parts of it,” He finally confesses, turning his head to fully look at you again. “Some more than others.”

You look for him, finding his eyes easily in the dark, and he adjusts quickly to see you better.

“You think things will ever be that easy again?” There’s a hint of optimism in your voice, and it begs him to join it, just for a second.

“I really, really hope so.”

-

Your POV

Somehow, you and Eddie find your way back to Steve’s, tiptoeing clumsily through the front door to a mass of passed out Hawkins alum. Steve is sprawled on the couch, while Dustin and Mike are on the floor beside him. In the basement, Will and El are cleaning the empty bottles and red solo cups from the absolutely destroyed basement, bobbing and weaving around members of Corroded Coffin and DDA, and they inform you Lucas and Max have gone back to Nancy’s already. Upstairs, the rest of your friends are in respective bedrooms, sleeping to prepare for their unavoidable hangovers.

“There’s one room left.” Eddie leads the way to Steve’s parents’ bedroom, the only one left untouched by party guests.

You peel the heavy comforter back, shimmying off your shorts, so tired and so absolutely plastered at this point, you don’t realize he’s watching as you untie your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor.

“Whoa! Um,” Eddie spins himself to face the window, losing his balance as he does. Even though he can’t see you, he still smacks his hands over his eyes. “I, uh, I’m gonna go find a spot on the floor.” He begins to sidestep towards the door, still refusing to look at you without a top on.

“Eddie,” You know the alcohol is making you flirty, and you’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but fuck it. You’re on vacation. You tug on Eddie’s shoulder, turning him to face you. He keeps his eyes glued to your face, barely blinking, definitely not letting them wander. “Stay here.”

He clears his throat, wincing. “Y/n,” Your pout cuts him off. “What’s that face for?”

“It’s weird, hearing my name out of your mouth. It was always sweetheart. Or baby, or pretty, or love. Now I’m just Y/n.” Your words slur together, exhaustion taking hold. You let your fingers dance up his bare arm, his shirt still somewhere in Steve’s yard. Still not daring to move his eyes from your face, he has an answer almost immediately.

“You’re not just Y/n, you’re Y/n! The Y/n, actually, a songwriting, vocalizing, rockstar badass. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Well then, the Y/n wants the Eddie Munson in bed with them.” It’s a bold choice of words, but you don’t care. You need him right now, even through the thick fog of the liquor.

“I want to, you have no idea how badly i want to, Y/n, I promise you that,”

“Then why won’t you?”

“Because I shouldn’t. I can’t.” He’s blunt. There is no arguing, he’s made up his mind.

And still, you prod him with inquiries. “Is it because we’re drunk? Because I trust you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Ed.”

He sighs, his hand finally moving to caress your burning cheek. “It’s because we’re drunk, but not because I'm scared of hurting you. I can’t let our first time together in two years be something you’ll regret tomorrow, but I also can’t chance either of us forgetting it.” He says it quietly, like he’s had the volume on himself turned down. You’ve heard him anyway, but it takes you a second to digest what he’s said.

“Okay,” You accept his answer, and before he can turn to leave you add, “Can you just sleep next to me?”

Eddie hesitates for a second, searching your expression. He must find an answer, because he nods. “Okay, sweetheart. But I gotta have you put a shirt on. For my own sake.”

You giggle, the satisfaction of hearing your nickname making you malleable to his words, nodding in agreement. Eddie exits the bedroom, and returns a bit later with a piece of fabric in his hand. His shirt. Of course it’s his shirt, what was he gonna do, give you Steve’s to sleep in?

You’re surrounded by his smell, his warmth, instantaneously. You crawl into the king sized bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You hear Eddie’s pants drop to the floor, before he climbs into bed, hoisting the covers to slide underneath them. You scoot back, and he knows now to wrap his arm around your waist, without the weird hesitation and awkward shuffling before you give up for the sake of comfort. Eddie rests his face behind your neck, the warm exhale of breath tickling your skin.

“Goodnight, baby.” He mumbles into the fabric of your-slash-his shirt, and your body vibrates with glee.

“Goodnight, baby.”

-

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#eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x reader #gn!reader #afab!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #slow burn #mutual pining #fundamental differing #new kid fic #stranger things #strangerthingscentral #st4 #bff!steve harrington #bff!robin buckley

[hoodievixen]

With My Own Eyes - Part 8 (Dream of the Endless x OC)

Based off of this

Summary: Morpheus just wanted to keep his soulmate safe. She just wanted to make her own decisions. Doesn't help that he doesn't show her his face.

Words Count: ~ 2.7 K

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, witchcraft, bad grammar and even worse spelling, !Comic Spoilers!

A/N:   This is it, the end. (Almost forgot to upload it today... oops) Prepare for some angst.

Tag List:   @intothesoul @  poemfreak306  ​

Master List

Her bed was too soft. Instead she clambered to the ground, curling herself into a ball, backed into a corner, walls pressing into both her shoulders. Sibyl mumbled descriptors of everything she saw, ignoring the tears running down her face. She should lose herself to her emotions, she might start another fire. She didn't need to deal with that at the moment.

Even her tactic of keeping in the physical and not the mental was not working. As she was describing any item she saw in great detail, more items appeared. She swear they came in puffs of sand. The first was her bag she had left in her room in the Dreaming, then the paintings she made in the Dreaming, and every sketchbook she dared scribble in. Even notes of grimores she left in the library. Anything that could remind him of her he sent away.

Soon Lily was clenched into as small of a ball that she could get. Her breathing out of control, as the only thing she felt was lonelyness, complete and utter lonelyness.

----

Johanna wasn't sure what she was expecting for the loud banging at her door in the middle of the day. Defiently not Lily, drunk off her ass and crying. "You do know it's only three," Johanna commented, letting the closest thing to a friend she had lean into her.

It wasn't strange for Lily to disappear for days on end without so much of a word. However returning drunk was indeed new. "Heart break knows no time but sorrow," the witch sighed.

Johanna hated how she'd get poetic when drunk. Luckily Lily rarely gets drunk. "Did you get back tk get her with Jerome?" she wondered dragging in the drunkard. "You know that never ends well."

With uneven balance Lily stood up straight staring at her arm. Rarely did Lily walk around with her arms bare. Johanna knew Lily got annoyed with how people would come and touch her cause of her tattoos, but also that she was hiding her soulmate's name, something the magic user hasn't even seen, until then.

Johanna felt pitty for her friend. There scralled on her arm in pretentious writing was Dream of the Endless. She felt bad for Lily, connected to that prik by date. Clearly she didn't have good feeling a about it either, as the skin it was on was red and irritated with small scabs developing. Lily had been vigorously scratching at it, as if to remove it. Even in that moment she dug her nails in the raw skin.

"I'm guessing that prick's the reason your like this," Johanna commented, bringing in the witch to have her sit on her couch.

Lily glared at her arm. "I don't even know what he looks like," she said softly.

Johanna sat down, letting her sad friend lay down in her lap. "You aren't missing much," she commented, picking at Lily's hair. By the looks of it it hadn't been washed in days. "His hair's a mess, eyes are creepy, and personally his cheeks are bit too sharp for my taste."

Lily looked up to her friend, wide eyed and with fresh tears. "You know what he looks like?" she asked in disbelief. Silent tears ran down her face.

-----

Lily woke up with a hwad ache and a show back. "How much did you drink?" a annoyed voice asked.

She peaked up to find a familiar person, and in a familiar place. "I think like... too much,"she answered, though mind elsewhere. While she had grown used to not having dreams with being in the Dreaming, sh hadn't had one since she got back.

Johana stoop up from her desk, coming to sit down next to her friend." Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you going to try and skin your arm again?" She handed back Lily's dager.

Lily took it back, before throwing it in the pile of her jacket and shoes. It was then she noticed she had a thick bandage over her arm, where her soul mark was. She hated it now more than ever. "What have you figured out from my drunken rambling?" she wondered, placing a cold hand against her forehead.

"Well the oh so lovely Dream of the Endless sis somehow your soulmate, and refused to show you his face," Johana explained, "Which confuses me."

Sibyl sighed. "Basically dude kidnapped me, and we made an agreement I'd stay in his realm for about a month, before deciding if I'd stay or go."

"Did you try the teleportation spell?" she questioned her friend. Sibyl didn't have a long streak of being the most clever.

"Oh yeah," Lily assured her, "And I should have just finished it.

But I stayed, begrudgingly at first. Then I grew to not mind being there, than I liked it that, and..." There were words Lily wanted to say but couldn't bring herself to. Her eyes stung and heart ached at the thought of it.

She let out a deep breath. "The entire time he had on this monstrous helm, like seriously, spine trunk. He refused to show me his face. I was patient, but I couldn't let him continue to do what he wants without showing me he trusts me. I went to remove it myself, cause it was either taking that thing off or being done with our relationship. I thought he'd see logic and reason. Instead he took ending it not his own hands, sending me away... I haven't even had a dream since."

Lily looked to the floor, meloncholic. By some miracle, or dehydration, she wasn't crying. "I'm angry, sad, and so frustrated," she groaned, finanly getting to voice her feelings. "I don't even want to acknowledge we're soulmates. I don't even want to be soulmates. I'd do anything to get this fucking name off of me."

-----

Ripples through the universe are not common, but they do happen. So two happening within such quick succession of eachother was something to take interest in.

The second one struck sunthing deep within Dream. Something he had long since ignored and tired to forget. No matter what he had to go a see what it was, knowing nothing good will come from the visit.

It had been centuries since he last visited the Mediterranean island. He had never thought he would step foot on it ever again. The care takers asked no questions, but kept their haze to the ground, moving out of the Endless' path.

Dream stepped into the small build that had been his son's home for most of his deathless life. Or what had expected to be deathless. The caretakers had already prepared the head of Orpheus for burial.

There was only a handful of being that could bring about the end of Orpheus. Dream knew it was no of his siblings, none would do such a thing. Even Desire, after all his son was a means to an ends for his sibling. He had to wonder who, no what has killed Orpheus.

It could have eazily been missed. Tucked in the corner of the window sill was a flash of reflected sunlight. It was a large metal knife, no dagger. Dream kne that Dager, from one side being solver while the other iron, the worn and loved leather gril, and the protective charm carved in the pommel. The fish time he had seen it, it had been pull on him, the next it was covered in it's owners blood. Now it was clean, not a single drop of crimson. Red however, there was a strand. Near the blade was a strand of red thread, cut red thread.

Sibyl had been there, and somehow involved with the death of Orpheus. While she had powers more so than the average human, no witch would have the power to undo the deal between Death and her nephew. Something wasn't right. Not in the slightest.

Dream pulled up his sleeve, and urge that pricked at the back of his mind. He hadn't known what feelings he felt anymore for that name on his arm. He once loved it, bringing him hope, and was something he protected. But now it left a sour taste in his mouth. He had believed that Sibyl had been different, different for his past lovers, different from all other humans. She was the same as the rest. He knew that the moment she tried taking off his helm. Dispite his best effort to forget them, her words of trust did ring in his ears, causing a sliver of guilt. Had she had a point?

It did not matter anymore, as his arm was baren.

-------

Johanna thought she was finally done with all that. It had been a couple days since Lily last called her in tears or in anger. She couldn't blame her, but it was getting to be a lot. When the magic user felt a precense in her flat, she assumed the witch had somehow gotten in on her own again. Turning on the lights revealed otherwise.

There ein the middle of the room was something she did not want to see again. Even if only in her dreams. "Why are you here?" she asked Dream of the Endless.

"Constantine," he said in a low tone. "I need your assistance with finding someone."

Johana gave him a look of questioning. "Can't you just wait until they fall asleep?"

Dream's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. "They have somehow managed to disconnect themselves for myself and realm entirely."

Johana noticed how his gaze lingered down at his arm. She scoffed. "If it's Sibyl Crow you are looking for," she started, "You entirely deserve what she's done."

Dream glared at the woman. "How do you know Sibyl?"

Johana rolled her eyes, "You really think a magic user and a witch living in the same city wouldn't at least be aware of eachother."

"You appear to be more than acquaintances," Dream continued to push.

"That's cause Lily's a clinging bitch," Johanna groaned, "She's so lonely she'd befriend a rabid dog..." No matter what she had tried, she couldn't get rid of the witch. She just gave up after a while.

She had already pulled out her phone to call the witch. Maybe he'd go away if Lily herself told him to fuck off. It went straight to voicemail. Johanna let out a sigh of annoyance, though not concerning.

"Have you tried her flat?" Johanna asked. It was still early into summer break, there wouldn't be a reason for her to be working yet.

"It is warded against my entry," he explained.

"Well lucky for you, I got a key," she answered, pulling said key from a drawer. Sybil had put it on a rediculous key chain of a pink puff ball, as to prevent Johanna from loosing it.

--------

Sibyl's flat was a mess. Not that it usually wasn't. However there was the makings of a pyramid of empty cans, both of energy drink and alcoholic. Lily wasn't much a fan of either, never consumes the in large quantities. Take out Containers filled the trash can, as well as plenty of counter space. Usually she kept her witchcraft neatly packed away in the small dresser that was her alter, yet scattered about her entire apartments were books on anything mildly unnatural in subject, maps of laylines and other things Johanna didn't understand.

Something caused her heart to stop. "She wouldn't," Johanna mumbled, grabbing at the pages of scarred notes about the apartment. She barely payed attention she Lily called her, thinking the witch just needed someone to rant to. Still Constantine caught it in bits and pieces, Sibyl was looking for a way to sever her fate from Dream's. "Lily's dramatic, but she wouldn't pay that price," she tried to reason with herself.

"What do you know Constantine?" the Endless demanded.

"Please tell me her names still on you," Johanna pleaded. She would deny it to anyone who asked, but Sibyl was her friend, someone she could trust her life with. She didn't want to loose her just like everyone else.

Dream looked away, giving the exrocist all the answer she needed. Johanna dropped the pages, which would take her too long to understand at all. "Fuck," she groaned, "Sibyl, what did you do?"

------------

Sibyl had severed her fate from his. It fit right in with all other failures of relationships he has had. This one had the most promise, but had lasted the shortest. Dream would teuely never love again. Still Sibyl payed a price because of his actions. If he couldn't pay part of it, he would at least want to know what it was.

Destiny may have had it written in his book, but he wouldn't share it with anyone, nor even his brother unless it said he would. There was a much more for sure way to learn what occurs in fate. To talk to the Fates themselves.

"I, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, summon the fates," he called to the universe. He had gathered his offerings, prepared to pay the price. "The three who are one, the one who is three." Something was different, there wasn't the same reaction of the world around him to the called of The Three.

"I'm gonna stop you there," some called from behind him, "It's one who is one now."

Dream turned around not believing his ears. There stood Sibyl, though not the same as before. Her arms were bare, of both his name and her tattoos. Her clothes shifted colors like an aurora boreal is, her hair floating in a breeze that was not there. Her eyes....

-----------

Sibyl stood in the circle of her own making. Chalk of frowned calf bones, spores from a mushroom grown on the corpse of a deer, and the blood spilled from the womb. Those were just in the outline, Sibyl was not proud to tell what took her to gather everything for the spell. She held her bleeding arm out before her, calling to the universe. "The three who are one, the one who is three, the Hecate."

The wind and rain which had gradually grown around her was all but silent in that moment. "We haven't been summoned by one such as you in a long while, child," a voice beyond years croaked.

Sibyl turned around to find three woman standing before her. She was quick to fall to her knee, stoll holding the offering of her own blood to them. "Please I ask of you, sperate my fare from his," she pleaded, "I do not wish to be bound to someone who can't trust me with the most simplest of things."

"Child, raise your head," a soft voice called out to her. Sibyl hesitantly looked up.

"Oh lovely," the maiden cooed, "We gave you a hard fate, that would come with many reward of you shall over come it."

"We over you this advice for what you have given," the crone continued, "Have hope."

Sibyl gribded her teeth. She was sick and tired of supernatural beings thinking less of her. "I didn't ask for advice," she hissed, "I gave you a sacrafice, just get this name off of me."

The mother reached out and stroked Sibyl's cheek. "You know better than to seek tk your elder than that, your auntie taught you better."

The maiden replaced the mother, her had on the young witch's cheek. "Your blood may be special, but no amount of it will be the price to do what you want."

Sibyl let out a deep breath. "I will pay whatever price," she confessed.

"Your soul," all three said at once. The crone stepped away from the girl. "You're human soul." The wind started to pick up once again.

"It binds you to this world," the maiden said.

"It binds you to the ones you love," the mother.

"To unbind you, we must take it," the croan.

The wind had became much worse than it had before, picking up dirt and howling in the night.

"We three will become one, and you will become we," the unified voice of three bellowed over the wind. "All magic come with a price. You know that well. A price for a price, only for something great. What it will be up to you, and not me."

------

Her eyes held no color, just white. Though she was looking at him, she wasn't seeing him. "Do you need to ask?" she said sarcastically, "As you can clearly see what price I payed." Sibyl gave up her sight to become the physical embodiment of fate, which she did to sever herself from him. He wonders of that was the plan all along. Him fated to be alone, for ever.

#Sandman #sandman x reader #sandman x oc #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x y/n #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x original character

[wild-moss-art]

Uh hi! Just wondering, do you have any tips for people who are considering offering art commissions? I want to try it out but I’m also very intimidated haha 😅

(also are you taking commissions rn? I saw you were a while back but I didn’t remember them closing, sorry if I missed it)

Thanks for asking!! Mine aren’t currently open, I am hoping to open them soon but I don’t have a timeline on that currently 😅

However, here’s a list of fandom artists I enjoy that currently have comms open. If I forgot anyone I apologize, feel free to add a reblog and I’ll plug you! And if I included any artists that don’t want to be tagged, let me know and I will remove it. In alphabetical order:

@agre-sora - I’ve commissioned sora before, highly recommended!

@artsyvamp - I adore the heart shaped pulls and swirly cheek decals 🥺

@distortedplatinum - really good at mimicking the fe3h art style

@earnono - in particular I like the chibis, but earnono is great at a bunch of styles!

@edns - great with dynamic and dramatic compositions, especially comics

@g0ld-m3d4l-art - a great character artist, if you have an oc or something you’d like drawn!

@it-me-butts - particularly good at well composed adorable scenarios in a unique style

@pioneer-over-c - can’t go wrong, good for character art and illustration and everything in between

@saturnisaturnip - beautifully detailed and brightly colored paintings

@silvermoonartworks - I’ve commissioned hifumi before, love the chibis!

@spooky-activity - you might be familiar with spooky, another artist with an incredible range

@starredfishing - multifandom artists that’s excellent at depicting a range of characters

And a commissioning guide of sorts, under the cut!

1. Decide what you want to commission! A character, an oc, what they’re doing, if it’s from a fic, etc. a lot of artists like when you can provide a reference, especially for an oc. If it’s for a fic, include the excerpt that you want the image to depict and any other relevant details.

2. Pick a price range. Depending on what you’re willing to spend, some artists will be available and some won’t. You want to know your max price before reaching out to an artist. Usually artists will have their prices listed on their blog and you can include or exclude based on that. If they’re not listed, send a dm!

3. Payment! Most artists take PayPal, but make sure to check. Some people take payment up front, some after completion, or something in between. I personally take full payment up front.

4. If an artist accepts your commission(they may not), there will be some back and forth about the details of the work, so the artist can get a clearer picture of what you want. Just chatting about your idea n all that. Some artists will tell you a time frame(I give an estimate based on the piece), but some don’t and it is okay to decline work with an artist based on the lack of stated time frame if you like.

5. Progress updates, which most artists will send out at an in between stage such as sketch, flat colors, etc. if they don’t tell you how they do updates, you can ask. When you get an update, most artists will allow a few changes, but can’t redraw too much without an extra fee. Another thing to ask your artist about their policies if needed.

6. Final piece, when I deliver I personally usually ask people whether they want to post it or if they’d like me to. Both can happen. At this point you can use it for any stated purpose— icons, fics, etc— but make sure to give credit!

#ty for the ask <3 #art philosophy tag #and to all the artists I tagged— if you’d like me to take down the tag or your name just let me know #as for my commissions well I’ve been wanting to open them but life has been hittin me hard so I can’t really predict for now #will make a post when it happens !