#…that’s it that’s all i got and it’s midnight soon so like

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 3)

A/N: i know it took me way longer than it should have, but at last im here with the next part and that's what matters, right? thank you for the support on the prev parts, hope you'll enjoy this just as much!

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Meetings never really excited Harry, but lately, they have been his favorite along with studio sessions. Because these were the times he always got to see Y/N. 

Today he is going in with her favorite cookies in his bag that he picked up on his way, taking a detour just to drop by that one place she loves the most. It’s been a recurring thing for Harry, picking up a cup of coffee for her, buying her favorite snacks for their sessions or surprising her with lunch from that taco place she adores so much. He’s been doing practically anything to get a smile on her face because he feels like that’s the only thing he is destined to do. 

He’s been ignoring the fact that her time working on the project ends in two weeks, according to the contract. The only chance to stretch it longer if the required songs are not finished, but they are all practically done at this point. Harry tries his best not to think of what it will be like when he doesn’t get to see her as often as he does now. 

The meeting was scheduled only yesterday, so Harry has no idea what it is about, but it doesn’t really matter, they are supposed to record afterwards, so he only cares about spending more time with Y/N. 

However, the smile fades when he walks into the room and doesn’t see her. It’s odd, she is usually there before him, but now it’s just a couple of the studio engineers, Niall, Liam and Blake, the kind of weird manager from Modest who’s been working with them since they started recording for Midnight Memories. Harry has been getting these eerie vibes from him, but he just can’t put his finger on it, so he’s been sucking it up and ignoring it. He gave no reason not to be trusted so far. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry greets everyone walking into the room. 

“Ah, Harry! You’re here!” Blake smiles and they shake hands before Harry settles in a chair. “I was just telling the boys what this meeting is about. Good news, you are set for another album after Midnight Memories is released!”

It’s no surprise, to be honest. One album after the other, the pace has been just like that for a while. 

“Great,” he nods. “Do we know who we’re gonna work with?”

Blake then hands him a paper with a list of names and some other details. Harry runs over the names, looking for a particular one, but it’s not there.

“What about Y/N?” he asks.

“Ah, I wanted to tell you guys. She got another project kind of last minute, so she is done with the album for now and won’t be able to join for the next one, it seems like,” Blake explains casually and it doesn’t stand out to anyone else either, but it hits Harry in the chest pretty hard.

She is done with the album? Why didn’t she say anything? They talked on the phone just two days ago, why didn’t she even mention it?

And why isn’t she gonna work on the next album? Harry doubts she is booked that far ahead, she is just getting recognized in the industry and she told him herself she is living from one project to the other, works on the next album won’t start at least until they start touring Midnight Memories.

It’s not adding up, but on the other hand… Harry has no right to question her. Even despite how close he’s been getting to her, they are still just… coworkers. Friends. 

But nothing more. 

“Alright, now that we are talking about the next album, I have a little sneak peek of a song that could be a big hit!” Blake seems enthusiastic as he opens his laptop and then soon a demo starts playing, but Harry can’t really focus, he is too stuck on the fact that he has no more time left with Y/N. He even pulls out his phone, ready to text her and ask her how all of this happened, but then talks himself down. When he finally starts to listen to the song, it sounds familiar at first, but there are no lyrics and Harry often finds random songs familiar lately, because he just hears so many new melodies on a daily basis, they tend to blend together. 

“You like it?” Blake asks him and Harry just nods.

“Yeah. What is it called?”

Blake smiles confidently as he shuts the laptop down.

“Night Changes.”

The weather is finally good enough for grilling and the rowland household would take an opportunity anytime for that. Filling up their backyard with the people they love the most and feeding them burgers, hotdogs or basically anything Mitch is able to throw onto the grill. They usually have a gathering like this every month if their schedule and the weather allows. 

Now it’s finally the first official grill party of the year. 

Harry is sat outside by one of the tables, his plate is empty by now, but he knows he’ll get another round at one point. Cards are scattered on the tabletop, along with glasses of lemonade and beer, the kids are playing in the back somewhere by the treehouse, everything feels and looks idyllic.

For the past about two hours Harry couldn’t stop looking for Y/N. Stealing glances when she was talking to Sarah or playing with the kids, trying not to ogle her too obviously when she was laughing at something at the other table. He wanted to walk up to her a thousand times already, but he is trying to act cool and figure out how to act when there are other people around. 

It’s an unknown territory for sure. 

When Harry sees her walking towards the house he just can’t stay put. Excusing himself from the group he tries his best not to look suspicious as he follows her inside. Once the sliding door is closed behind him he quickens his steps down the hallway towards the bathroom, guessing she went there, but as he is approaching the door he notices it’s closed.

Should he try his luck and open it? Or maybe knock? Or…

Suddenly, the lock rattles and the door moves the tiniest bit, light coming through the gap. His heart skips a beat as he leaps forward and pushes the door open more so he can step inside.

And there she is, standing by the sink, checking herself out in the mirror when Harry walks in and closes the door behind him. Then slowly, she turns her gaze to him, for the first time today and for a moment Harry thinks she might tell him to fuck off and get out, but when he sees her lips part, he knows what she wants.

Him.

They collide fast, their usual hunger for each other taking over in a heartbeat. Demanding kisses, rough touches, they both know they should be in a hurry, Harry can’t even remember if he locked the door, it would be rather awkward if someone walked in on them.

Especially because no one knows about them, or whatever is going on between them. 

It’s been over a week since the dinner party that ended up with the most confusing but also mind-blowingly amazing sex they have ever had. When it was over Harry simply left and kept to what she said, that they would not talk about it and that’s exactly what happened. They never talked about it, but it happened again. 

Twice since then. 

And now they are going at it again. 

“Fuck,” Harry growls into her mouth when she reaches into his pants with quick but confident moves, because it’s not the first time she is doing it and he can only hope it’s not the last either. 

“Quickly,” she pants and he just nods, bunching up her dress and tugging her underwear down. It’s no surprise he is already hard, following her inside was like a foreplay to him, the secrecy, the chance that she might tell him to fuck off, his pulse has been rising before he stepped into the bathroom. 

They moan together when he thrusts into her, but then he gets back to kissing her to keep their voice down as he starts moving. Usually, they don’t talk when they are having sex, but Harry feels like changing that up, trying out how she reacts to something different. 

“You knew I would come after you, huh?” he pants against her lips.

“I did,” she breathes out, one arm curled around his neck, her other hand gripping the edge of the sink to keep her balance. 

“You thought about me fucking you all day?”

To that, she doesn’t answer and Harry almost regrets opening his mouth, but then she looks at him and nods.

“I did,” she repeats herself and even cracks a smile before pulling him closer to kiss him hard. And just like that, a tightening but warm feeling spreads in his chest. 

They don’t need much time, Harry is the first to come and she follows soon right after. Her head falls against his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths and he tries to fight the urge, but then gives in and bringing up a hand he runs his fingers through her hair. Part of him fears this move might be too intimate for her and that she’ll shake him off of her any moment, but it never happens and Harry enjoys it, probably way more than he should. 

They clean themselves up and soon it’s just the sparkle in their eyes that proves what they just did. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, fixing her makeup in the mirror. 

“Are you asking me out or something?” Harry cheekily asks and she just smacks his chest playfully.

“I have some stuff I’ve been working on that I want to show you.”

Harry’s pulse fastens again. This is just like it was before, when it was just the two of them, sharing the songs they were working on. 

“I would love that,” he smiles at her, watching her walk to the door. 

“Alright. I’ll text you then.”

Y/N walks out and Harry knows they are back to not talking and for a second he wonders how long he’ll be able to keep going like this. 

When he walks out he is still deep in his thoughts, but then when he reaches the kitchen he comes to a halt, seeing Mitch by the kitchen island, sipping on some lemonade, a knowing look on his face.

“Hey man,” Harry clears his throat and joins him instead of walking outside.

“Hey. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Want to share why I just saw Y/N coming from the same direction as you just did?”

“Uh… you know, we just…”

Harry can’t quite find the right words, especially because he doesn’t like and can’t really lie to Mitch, but he also wants to keep the no talking rule. Mitch stares back at him with a blank face for a second, but then his eyes go wide.

“No way.”

“What?” Harry laughs.

“For real?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and… you and Y/N?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but that’s quite the answer to Mitch.

“Oh my God, how long has this been going on?”

“Keep it down!” He hushes his friend. “It’s… it’s nothing official or anything.”

“But it is something, right? What is it?”

Harry once again just stays silent.

“You two are having sex?” More silence. “Oh my God! Did you just do it in the bathroom?!”

“Shh!” Harry tries to shush him again, but he also can’t hold back his smile, thinking about what just took place in that bathroom. 

“Harry, what the hell! When… How did that happen? You know what? I don’t want to know about that,” Mitch changes his mind quickly, making Harry laugh. “But like… what is it?”

“I told you, it’s nothing o–”

“No, I mean… what do you want it to be?”

Harry sighs as he turns so he can look out at the backyard through the sliding door. And there she is, with a glass in her hand as she is talking to Sarah, laughing at something and Harry wishes he knew what it was. 

“I just… I like her. A lot.”

“But you two had been hating each other passionately, what happened to that?”

“I think we took the passionately part and turned it into something else,” Harry smirks cheekily, his eyes still glued to her figure outside. 

“Oh my God, you are so gone for her,” Mitch breathes out, shaking his head. “You’re falling for her!”

Harry turns back to Mitch and hesitates before speaking up.

“I already fell for her. When we worked together years ago. But then she basically disappeared and when we met again, she acted like I was her mortal enemy,” Harry chuckles. Calling himself the enemy sounds ridiculous, but it’s the most fitting he could say. “And now…” he hums, but doesn’t finish his thought out loud.

“And now you’re falling for her again?”

“I might be,” he nods.

The Sun has set, but the party's still going. Well, it’s not raging, some of the people who came with kids have left and Scout has been put down by Mitch as well, but a handful of guests are still out on the terrace, playing card games and sharing stories. 

Y/N sits right across from Harry and he has noticed the change. She is losing her cold act towards him, slowly but surely. They can finally talk and joke around almost like back in the days. Harry however doesn’t want to let himself go deeper than he should, he knows he is on an unstable field with her and he feels like it all could snap any moment, but…

It feels so amazing.

Making her laugh, sharing knowing looks, teasing each other like old friends, Harry missed being like this. 

When he notices that she’s probably cold his first thought is to offer his hoodie, but he is quick to stop himself, he’s sure it might be too much at once so he instead just asks around who needs a blanket as he is heading inside anyway so he can easily grab a few. 

But then as the night comes to an end, he still decides to try and dance around the unsaid boundaries.

“Hey, I just ordered a car, added your address as well.” Harry tells her when he sees her open the Uber app on her phone.

“Ah, no need, I can just–”

“Already ordered it,” he insists, hoping she’ll accept it and luckily, it seems like she is not in the mood to argue. 

The car ride is quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. She is on her phone, reading what seems like emails to Harry and he notices the change in her instantly.

“Everything alright?”

She looks up with a frown and then sighs, locking her phone. 

“Just work. I have this annoying assistant, called Daryl up in my ass on another project, he is trying to get me to give way more than I’m obligated to. I don’t even know who his boss is, the damn guy is like a mystery for some reason.”

“Like, they want more music from you?”

“Yes,” she nods. “They want to listen to stuff I’m working on in case something fits the album, but I’ve already delivered what I was paid for.”

Although he is eager to know more, to offer his help, he stays silent, staying within the boundaries this time, not pushing his luck even more. It’s a miracle itself that she even said this much about anything personal. 

“So tomorrow?” Y/N asks when the car stops in front of her house. Harry looks at her and for a moment, all he can think about is the last time they were here like this. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” he manages to speak up, snapping out of his memories.

“I’ll text you. Bye then,” she nods before climbing out of the car and heading towards her front door. Harry watches her for a bit before he tells the driver to leave. 

She still hasn’t texted him. It’s four in the afternoon and he hasn’t heard of her since she got dropped off last night. 

He was up early, went for a run, because he definitely needed to put his extra energy into something instead of continuously checking his phone, hoping for a text to pop up. Then he grabbed himself a bagel on the way back, brewed a coffee when he got home and had his breakfast while staring at his phone like a sore loser. 

He took that damn phone everywhere he went. Literally everywhere. But the hours passed by and he got no sign and at first he just thought she got busy with something, but by the time he was done with lunch, it turned into a worry. 

She was as punctual as one could get and she would have already texted him by now, even if it was just about that she is running late with whatever she was doing. A decent session lasts at least three or four hours and she is not one to pull an allnighter.

He has kept ordering himself to be patient all day, but now he lost the last bits of his bearing. At last he decides a text is fine, she can answer whenever it’s convenient. 

HARRY: Hey, are we still up for a sesh? 

He keeps the conversation open and watches his message sit there, its status staying delivered for what feels like forever. Then, about twenty minutes later, it changes to read and the three dots start dancing at the bottom of the screen as Harry’s heart threatens to jump right out of his chest. He knows he is acting ridiculously, but he pushes the thought to the back of his head for now. 

The dots then disappear, but no message arrives. A minute goes by and they reappear and this time a gray bubble follows.

Y/N: I got a bit of a situation on my hands rn.

Then a photo pops up of her house with two police cars parked at the front and Harry’s stomach drops.

HARRY: I’m going over.

He sends the message before he could even think it through and he is already out the door by the time she reads his reply. 

When he arrives one of the police cars is still there and Y/N is out front, talking to an officer. She is lacking her usual on-spot style, wearing a baggy sweat set, her hair in a state of mess he has never seen before, but even despite the worried expression on her face, she looks annoyingly beautiful. 

She spots him as he gets out of his car, crossing the lawn with a slow jog.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, on the verge of losing his marbles if he doesn’t find out what happened immediately.

“Give me a minute,” she tells him, turning back to the officer. “Thank you for everything. I’ll let you know if I find anything that’s missing.”

“Take care, Miss. We’ll have a car patrol around the neighborhood every hour for the next 24 hours, though it’s unlikely they will come back.”

With a nod, the officer walks over to the car, gets in and they drive away.

“What the hell happened?” Harry asks when Y/N finally turns to him.

“Someone broke into my house,” she says and then just simply heads back inside. Harry jogs after her. 

“What? When?” 

Y/N is walking straight to her kitchen and Harry follows her, locking the front door behind him. 

“I went to a yoga class in the morning. When I came back, I noticed my lock was picked and the door was open.” 

Harry watches her rummage through a cabinet before grabbing a bottle of tequila along with two glasses. She shoots a questioning look to him, to which he just nods, though he is still lost, confused and kind of angry. She pours a generous amount into both glasses and then hands one over to Harry before chugging hers down faster than ever. 

“Did anything go missing?”

“Literally nothing,” she laughs bitterly. “Everything seems untouched and I just don’t understand it at all. Why would someone break in if they don’t take anything valuable?”

“Money? Jewelry? Everything is here?”

“Everything. I checked everything.”

Harry is now just as clueless as Y/N. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s also somehow even worse. Whoever broke in had a reason to, but it’s completely hidden for now. 

When she reaches for the bottle again he notices how much her hands are shaking. She is a nervous wreck. 

“Hey, you don’t want to lose your rationality right now,” Harry softly warns her as he grabs her hand and stops her from pouring another one. 

“I’m fucking terrified, Harry,” she admits, her voice shakes and so weak like never before. Harry’s heart breaks for her. “Have you ever felt unsafe in your own home?”

“I have,” Harry answers without hesitation and that’s when she finally looks him in the eyes again. “I had a few stalkers throughout the years and attempted break-ins.”

And just like that, something changes in her. The last bits of the wall she so carefully built up between the two of them are destroyed and she lets him see her fully and so naked emotionally. Her lips tremble, tears dwell in her eyes and just as the first sob breaks out of her chest, he is pulling her into his embrace. 

For a second Harry thinks it might be just luck, that she is only opening up to him like this because he is the one who is physically here with her, but he then wipes this thought and just focuses on being the support she truly needs. 

He holds her tight as she cries into his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head until she calms down and regains control over her breathing. 

“Pack a bag for a few days, stay at mine for a bit, okay?” he softly says when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at him. She doesn’t try to put up a fight, just nods and lets him walk her up to her bedroom. 

He helps her pack, she grabs the clothes while Harry packs her laptop and chargers. Half an hour later they are getting into his car before heading over to Harry’s place. The car ride is silent and Harry doesn’t even try to talk her through it. He knows how important it is to let her find her own peace in this situation instead of trying to just temporarily divert her attention. 

It’s actually her first time at his place, so she is curiously examining the place when they finally arrive. Harry shows her around quickly and then they reach the bedrooms upstairs.

“Choose a bedroom, personally my favorite is that one,” he smiles softly, pointing at the one next to his own bedroom. She walks closer and peeks inside, then into his bedroom and he watches her patiently.

“Can I… sleep with you?”

Her request surprises him, but he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t hoping for it. 

“Sure, of course,” he nods and gestures for her to walk inside. 

He sets down her bag to the ottoman at the end of his king sized bed while she looks around. Harry grabs a towel for her from the closet and hands it over to her.

“Take a shower, I’ll make tea for you, how does that sound?”

She just nods, holding the towel to her chest and he can’t believe how vulnerable she looks. The Y/N he’s known for the past few months is nothing like the woman standing in front of him right now. 

“Alright, then I’ll…” 

He clears his throat and then turns around to give her privacy, but he doesn’t even get to take a step before she grabs his hand and pulls him back. He opens his mouth to ask what else she needs, but he is met with her lips pressing against his, hard and needy and he wastes no time to return the kiss just as passionately. His arms curl around her tightly, like an armor, ready to protect her from anything and everything. 

They stumble into the bathroom and she pulls away, just enough so that she can start stripping out of her clothes, but Harry stops for a minute before things get too heated too fast.

“Wait, are you… Today was a lot, are you sure you… want to…?”

“I’m sure. I need this,” she nods and even though she appears just as vulnerable as before, there’s some kind of strong will mixed in her state now. Harry stares back at her, looking for any kind of sign that this might be a bad idea, but then she adds: “I need you.”

And Harry knows in that moment that he would give her anything in this world, because he fell for her again, but this time, it’s nothing like he has ever felt before.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[joesalw]

I’m noticing a trend that most people keep saying that they fell back into TS’s music during lover, folklore, or evermore when-thanks to Joe-she was at her most mature stage lyrically. She was finally self aware and seemed to understand that some of her critics were valid and she wasn’t this perfect pop princess. But without Joe it all fell apart. The facade ended. She was never self aware or mature-Joe was. She ruined her reputation and whether swifties like it or not, Joe revived it and brought her career back to new heights with a different and more adult audience. Hell, I’ll even admit that midnights was more mature and self aware than TTPD. The friendship bracelets were totally marketable and capitalistic of her but I’ll give props were it’s due- it was brilliant and united people through nostalgia which I loved. The problem is she got greedy fast and forgot the persona she put out before with Joe and he wanted to no parts that life and she dropped him and that personality and went back to the only thing she’s ever known-that same mean girl, drama craving, attention seeking nasty high school cliché attitude and it’s reflected in TTPD. So now all of her mature audience is leaving because no one came back for that cattiness, people gave her a chance because they thought she changed but nope

all her mature audience is leaving– exactly! we were drawn to her because of the maturity and characteristic growth she showed in the first place. but that persona remained for so long only to keep joe. It was all his impact, but as soon as he left she started being that old fame obsessed woman again. this time much worse honestly!

#anti taylor swift #joe alwyn

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev

chapter synopsis:

'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”

You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'

'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.

---

You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).

You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.

word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)

17-6-2018 

The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there. 

At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway. 

There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before. 

If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky. 

“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.” 

“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.” 

You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t. 

It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter. 

And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all. 

Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself. 

That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes. 

Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road. 

“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you. 

Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears. 

“You and that Itadori seem close.” 

“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so. 

You’ll make sure not to do that again, though. 

Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?” 

“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse. 

He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess. 

“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.” 

“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.” 

Who’s ‘them’? 

“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.” 

“What?” 

“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?” 

“...why would you need one?” he questions. 

You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.” 

He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything? 

“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.” 

The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was. 

“Hi, Mummy.” 

She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy. 

The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there. 

Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from. 

Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.” 

“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?” 

“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.” 

“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.” 

“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.” 

“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.” 

Silence. 

“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.” 

“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time. 

She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway. 

“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving. 

“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.” 

“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—” 

“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years. 

“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.” 

Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father. 

“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?” 

“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did. 

Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue. 

“You should go get that first,” she says. 

“...okay.” 

You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now. 

You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.” 

You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.” 

“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.” 

“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—” 

Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically. 

You’d sworn to put that past you. 

Your immaturity strikes once again. 

“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name. 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room. 

“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.” 

“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room. 

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.” 

“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?” 

“Something like that,” Megumi explains. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?” 

He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.” 

“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.” 

He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.” 

Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—” 

“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.” 

“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—” 

Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.” 

“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.” 

“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi. 

He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be— 

He opens the box. 

Holy shit. 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!” 

Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself. 

You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound. 

It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for. 

Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock. 

“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?” 

Sasaki and Iguchi? 

The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such. 

“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.” 

“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!” 

It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for. 

Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. 

You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that. 

The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen. 

“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?” 

“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil. 

“Yuuji!” 

“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him. 

“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!” 

“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.” 

He climbs over the gate. 

He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone. 

You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all. 

(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.) 

“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?” 

His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying? 

“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?” 

“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!” 

He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now. 

Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.

The emergency contact. 

You snatch your phone out, resolute. 

“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says. 

You’ve heard it plenty before by accident. 

When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from. 

The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead. 

“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—” 

“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…” 

“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!” 

“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender. 

“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!” 

“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.” 

“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.

“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind. 

“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.” 

They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.  

“I’m coming with you.” 

“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.” 

Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.” 

“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.” 

“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?” 

The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone. 

“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.” 

Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams. 

You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest. 

At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this. 

Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.” 

You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told. 

You should’ve done more to protect him. 

Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines. 

Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge. 

“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.” 

“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.” 

“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.” 

You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”

It’s time to get to work. 

Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work. 

Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.” 

“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold. 

“By the way, Mr Gojo…” 

“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.” 

“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?” 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.” 

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.” 

Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.” 

“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.” 

“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.” 

“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”

“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.” 

You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared. 

“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”

“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.” 

“...oh.” 

You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…

“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.” 

You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.” 

18-6-2018 

The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed. 

Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi. 

(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—) 

Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally. 

You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen. 

“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.” 

“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up. 

For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl. 

You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years. 

There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not? 

Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way. 

But you wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point. 

“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down. 

“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.” 

“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere. 

You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.” 

“I promise.” 

“And keep your promises.”

“I will.” 

“...want to come inside?” 

He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him. 

“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?” 

They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours. 

When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time. 

You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them. 

“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji. 

“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.” 

“Where, though?”

Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.” 

“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts. 

The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you. 

“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.” 

‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him. 

You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?” 

You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that. 

“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!” 

Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice. 

Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity. 

This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it. 

Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him. 

“Megumi.” 

He turns around. 

“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn’t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.” 

“Oh.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.” 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.” 

“Okay. That’s good to hear.” 

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.” 

Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward. 

“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.” 

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.” 

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says. 

“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.” 

“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.” 

“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.” 

“Let’s just… change the subject.” 

“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.” 

“Okay. How… how are you?” 

“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?” 

He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].” 

“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.” 

Sounds pretty familiar, huh. 

“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.” 

“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.” 

“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi… 

“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.” 

All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end. 

“I’ll explain it all one day.” 

“You don’t have to if it’s hard.” 

He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.” 

“That’s okay.” 

The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore. 

“I guess this is goodbye again, then.” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again. 

“Promise.” 

“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.” 

“I will.” 

“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.” 

“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his. 

“Wait—!” 

His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago. 

His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].” 

“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to. 

You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.” 

“Thank you.” 

Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open. 

2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie. 

You want to cry as you walk back home. 

You’re pretty sure you do. 

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#ohhh my goodness i'm so sorry this took so long #aaa but life's going to get very busy quite soon #so i just decided to post the next two chapters on tumblr first because writing chapter 8 and posting it on ao3 will take a while.... #take me back (take me with you) #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fluff #megumi angst #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #ruer writes #megumi x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #megumi imagine #adding more tags this time hope it works out #fanfiction #jjk fanfiction

[thedeathdeelers]

a butterfly in the garden

she equates his touch to that of a butterfly flapping it’s wings against her skin — soft and fluttering; surreal and beautiful.

with a slight shake to his fingers, he tentatively draws shapes on her skin, calluses tenderly brushing against warming cheeks and rising goosebumps.

if she closes her eyes, she can almost picture the butterfly wings grazing the skin where his fingers are touching.

she felt worshipped; like she was the only flower in the garden worth his time.

//

the butterfly hovers over the flower, gently moving closer and closer as it takes in its beauty — the actions almost reverent. it takes its time, worshipping the flower, while the fluttering of its wings causes the petals to sway gracefully in place.

he’s almost hesitant, fingers a hair’s breadth away as he watches the little hairs on the crown of her head shift every time he breathes out. his eyes take in the sight before him, unable to believe that she was real.

she was the most beautiful flower in the garden; the whole world revolved around her beauty.

and he was just a butterfly who was lucky enough to have found her.

#?????????? i have NO idea #…that’s it that’s all i got and it’s midnight soon so like #HAPPY JUKE JEUDI! #lols #jatp #juke #jatp fics #this was in my drafts since like may or april. figured i’d throw in a couple more lines and call it a day lol #julie and the phantoms

[godhasforsnakenme]

I want a whole series with Fourteen & Donna. Like that episode was just so great.

We have the Doctor showing how caring this version of them is by saying it out loud, by holding her hand, reassuring her thar everything will be alright, calming Donna down with acts of physical contact (the stark difference not only between ten, but also thirteen oh boy)

Then the breakdown – gave me waters of mars vibes, David's acting is just so amazing in that entire scene – showing us how the events with the Flux has left them, and how he wishes Donna could understand him without having to explain it. To share the pain of learning the beginning of his life, how they came to be, is a complete lie.

"A million years."

To unpack everything from the events of the timelord victorious, to the Ponds, learning gallefrey did not fall, events as Twelve, and then finally, you get to the newests of torments having learned of the timeless child.

For fucks sake I need them both to sit down and talk about it.

We also got to see how Donna is traumatized of being left behind again by the Doctor. That he somehow couldn't tell the difference between her and the no thing. Plays into the whole self-worth bit. And can I say, Catherine Tate, that acting was *chef kiss* because for a second I was convinced the damn thing had copied Donna 100% and I would've brokedown crying with her being left behind omfg

Also loved that whole parallel thing with their conversations when the no things are first shown, it was a quite nice way to prelude the horrors.

#dania rambles about shit #doctor who spoilers #doctor who #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #wild blue yonder #does this count as meta? idek at this rate #killed me with that small “is it you?” and “all those years. I missed you” #absolutely brilliant this pair is and I'm afraid of saying goodbye so soon #we just got them back and now nothing will ever compare again #you know what? back to ao3 and the drawing board of wips #also anyone else get Midnight vibes? like somehow the no thing are related to the shadows? #give me more horror episodes please and thanks

[piplupod]

i hope all men with loud vehicles die forever amen

#i hate when i am just about to fall asleep and then one goes roaring through the neighbourhood #i hope you crash your vehicle so disastrously that they have to do a dental examination to identify your body. god bless us all. #literally what is the pointttt you are a fucking unevolved ape. you make loud noise to impress mates. thats fucking monkey behaviour #are cishet women actually impressed by loud vehicles. because idk if they are. genuinely no clue fsjdkl #it just makes me irritated like fsdjkl wow congrats on wrecking the earth faster ig 👍very cool that u have ur parents money to burn on gas! #i hope u get an extra big allowance this month to replace the wheels that u burn rubber with lol #anyways. i will not be making horrific death threats again anytime soon sorry fsdjkl i just got very upset at one outside #it lasted almost a full 90 seconds going thru the whole fucking neighbourhood as loud as a plane #killing them. it is midnight. what are you doing. go mudding or smth instead u dickhead ppl are trying to sleep #(actually maybe dont go mudding bc thats worse for the environment) #pippen needs 2nd breakfast

[odetolovers]

question mark

#went on a midnight walk with my girlfriend and a couple foxes approached us #which vibes that was cute #then we were walking and this black cat popped up out of nowhwre and was so affectionate #and then like. herded us home??? #it was srsly weird. it was following us the whole time and then wd catch up to us #be affectionate and then look around all alert and wouldnt move until we moved when it wd start following us #then as soon as we got to my gf’s houses road the little guy turned away and went back home #makes it weirder that we were gonna go down a different way but we didnt bc my gf had bad vibes about it and then the cat herded us away #MYSTERIOUS! <- probably nothing but notable enough for me to be intrigued and make a tumblr post abt it cos ill die if i dont share #insignificant details of my life. #^_^ #valentina talks #my lover

[jensonsbuttons]

it's all so incredibly loud time

#mostly cause of the video of mick driving the jordan but also the song and the moment #i'm stressed so music time #not even stressed just...angry sad all over truthfully #nico is...not a good choice to replace mick #fine whatever i get it you want to replace mick. do it with a good fucking driver then. #nico is not a good driver and hasn't been and if he ever was it was years ago #its not like he's gonna warm up and win a fucking WDC anytime soon #the man has had his chance so if you're going to replace mick do it with someone that can drive #this has got to be a money thing i'm sorry but i have no clue why haas would think he's better? #i'm not sayin mick is like the second coming of christ but my god nico h is not better #which means its money or blackmail or both #anyway music time i'm gonna calm down go to bed and try not to think about this until the morning cause its not even midnight here #i'm rambling again aren't i?

[returntotheground]

you know. i never before ran into this issue where i find it hard to put any effort into a report because i fundamentally do not respect the professor for this class

but here we are

#tbh i'm almost done it's due at midnight but like. i just don't care. this dude has annoyed me all semester but also he likes my work #and i know i write well for an academic setting (somehow like genuinely idek how i ended up impressing my professors with this but whatever #so my motivation is at an all time low bc whatever. fuck him and fuck his class and i'm tired and loopy on cold meds so i really do not car #honestly i'm not even sure he's gonna really read this like it's a dense 3 pages and he's got like 20 students and the semester ends soon #like really is the guy who just sent me an answer key instead of truly answering my homework question gonna read all that? no. #old man professors are so often just so fucking weird and annoying and also lazy this shit is just bizarre #personal shit

[cuz-reasons]

There's this stomach bug going around work and apparently only my boss is currently unaffected

#like shes my boss so she can be annoying in that way #but rip her for needing to do all the rooms alone #i wouldnt be surprised if she got sick from this too #oh shit is anyone in laundry #oof #id go in if i didnt get sick last night #wouldnt mind the hours whether she made me do rooms or shoved me in laundry #but no i got wicked sick last night #im doing better now #i can even remain vertical now! #we should all be good soon since it acts like a really bad 24hr bug #but oof a doof that sucked last night #anyways #enjoy my midnight ramblings

[no-one-hears-me]

happy midnight today is the one year anniversary of an iconic photo that I need to send to bestie later

#it's of bestie and ex and a few other people #bestie absolutely hates it 😭 but it's so funny and I took it so it lives in my snapchat memories #I reference it every now and then and I am so excited to send it to him #there's also a really awful pic of me and my ex from like an hour after and we both hate it #fortunately bestie left right before that pic was taken so he doesn't even know it exists :D no pics for him to harrass me about #what else. I actually have several pics from that night so my memories for today are fun #it was a lame party ngl but I still enjoyed it and had some good moments #and then when I got home. my mom was awake so I had to act sober which was very fun #I sent bestie a video of my candle drawer bc he couldn't believe it exists (I own a lot of candles) #my ex called me and we had a nice lil chat. good times #btw. the party actually was the evening of the 23rd but all the pics were taken after midnight so they're for today #makes me sad to know that I was drunk at this time last year and now I'm sitting on my couch. writing a tumblr post #soooo embarrassing. whatever I'm gonna see if bestie wants to hangout this weekend prob tomorrow night #gotta go to bed soon I got things to do in the morning #FUNNY bc I had the same thing to do last year on this day and yet I stayed up the whole night #this is also a significant day for other reasons btw but I don't wanna explain all that #but that started 3 years ago. and then last year added to it #Sera

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mechanic eddie munson #baker steve harrington #ficlet #fluff #meet cute #mutual pining #matchmaker dustin henderson #longing glances #dustin is sick of hearing steve talk about the hot mechanic next door but never making a move #dustin makes it for him #the party are a bunch of well-meaning menances #for some reason insomnia is an intrinsic part of steve's character even in an au

[saetoru]

imagine rich boy gojo finding out your name for him in his phone is just “satoru” or something 💀 and then from the side geto is like “mine’s got an emoji!”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NO HEART — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

rich boy! gojo, college au, fluff, established relationships, dramatic gojo which is consistent in every version of him no matter the au

studying with gojo satoru is the worst idea you could ever allow to happen—and yet, every time he asks, you let it happen.

“baby, aren’t you getting my texts?” gojo pouts. it earns him an unimpressed glare from you as you look up from your textbook, a glare that makes him wilt while geto snickers from the corner.

“satoru, if you don’t stop bothering me while we’re supposed to be studying, so help me—”

“but it’s funny, look,” he whines. and before you can stop him, he picks up the untouched phone beside you, tapping the screen to unlock it. except, he doesn’t make it that far.

suddenly the world stills. it stops spinning on its axis. and suddenly, gojo satoru’s face is the dictionary definition of devastation.

“satoru, what’s wrong,” you furrow your brows.

“satoru. satoru? satoru?” he repeats, each time in more disbelief than the last.

“that’s….your name, yes?” you raise a brow. and then realization strikes your features—or so he thinks. he’s soon to find out he’s mistaken. “oh, sorry,” you snort, “toru, is that better? toru, get to studying—”

“my name in your phone is just satoru?” he asks, cutting you off like you’ve genuinely wounded him—the betrayal on his face and the shock in his voice are all too real.

you blink for a moment before you realize the source of his tantrum seems to be the contact name you have for him in your phone. only gojo satoru would find a way to make a big deal out of his own name, you think.

“well, yeah,” you shrug, “it’s your name. plus i had it set when i first got your number from that project. i hated you back then.”

“you called me gojo back then,” he squints accusingly.

“yeah that’s because it was gojo satoru at first,” you nod. from the side, you hear geto snicker again about the full government name to himself—which earns him a pillow thrown at his direction by gojo. “i deleted the gojo part when we started dating,” you add.

“oh so you can delete my surname once we started dating but you couldn’t even add a heart?” he asks, jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed in that dramatic way he does. it’s a bit cute, the way he’s worked up over something so small—but it’s also entirely theatric, making you roll your eyes.

“would a heart make you feel better, satoru?” you purse your lips.

“no! not if you don’t add it because you want to,” he huffs, “you might as well just say you don’t love me!”

“satoru,” you sigh in exasperation. maybe if you didn’t have physics 1302 problems to work through—a whole six of them due before midnight, in fact—you would humor him in his elaborately dramatized attempt at getting your attention. but you have classes to pass and gpa’s to maintain, so you purse your lips instead. “it’s just a contact name. what’s mine?”

“it’s baby <3. with a heart. see?” sure enough, when his phone is turned to face you, it’s baby <3. with a heart.

“i have an emoji in my contact,” geto adds from the side, ever the instigator, “maybe it’s because i’m cuter—”

“you gave suguru’s an emoji?” he asks in distress, staring at you like you’ve told him you’ve cheated. you think you might hurt his feelings less if you did, with the way his lips are curled in a genuine frown.

“suguru set his own contact,” you defend, shooting the nuisance in the corner a sharp glare. geto only offers you a sly wink in return. “i didn’t realize you cared that much about contact names,” you shrug, “i can change it—”

“no need,” gojo huffs, holding up a hand to silence you as he turns away and sticks his nose in the air in defiance. “i’ll just change yours to your full government name. see how you like it.”

“satoru—”

“and you’re not getting a heart either,” he glares, deleting the <3 slowly just for show, making eye contact with you so you know the severity of your actions.

you roll your eyes, snatching your phone back as you shake your head. “if i make your contact baby <3 with a heart because you’re my baby, will that cheer you up,” you sigh.

he ponders it for a moment, as if debating the offer. and then his arms cross in defiance once more. “no. make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss emoji.”

“gross,” geto twists his face in disgust.

gojo turns to him, face blank and serious as he shoots, “single people should not speak when it’s not their turn,” before turning back to you. “i’ll consider forgiving you if you make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss.”

“okay,” you sigh, “baby boy it is.”

“with a kiss!” he glares.

“with a kiss,” you assure, rolling your eyes.

“can i also get a kiss?” he asks hopefully, eyes wide and bright and earnest enough to warm your heart.

you smile, chuckling at the way he looks so cute, at the way he melts your heart and makes you forget you have physics homework for a moment—but only for a moment because then you mumble, “no. now do your homework.”

PLS THIS PROMPT KILLED ME

#teepods.writings #drabbles. #rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[milo-is-rambling]

Thinking about drinking again want to be home alone forever that’s called moving out idiot get a job lol thanks brain anyways where’s the vodka

#I will drink soon I know I will but not 2nite #sleepy tired tonight but that’s good I need to be tired to sleep cause my brain has been evil with all the trauma flashbacks recently #I got like three hours of sleep last night and I’m exhausted rn but can’t sleep #I just feel like shit and I hate my incredibly accurate and vivid memory rn #great for writing horrible for living my life #me and Sylvia Plath like this fr 🤞 #I need to die or sleep already I am miserable and only getting worse but I am also applying to jobs and becoming more of an actual person #while actively descending into madness #haha yeah anyways swag swag swag I think I might be going into a bit of a depressive episode and trying so desperately to get out of it #before it’s really started but it feels like the world is crushing me and there’s nothing I can do #I need to get back on my meds fuck that will fix me why are my chemicals so fucked up forever ugh #I will be mentally I’ll all of my life I just need to deal with it but god the violent thoughts are never ending and I need to tear #someone apart viciously or write poetry about a wolf #that will fix me #okay bye #going to go try to write or sleep or cry maybe #fuuuuuuuck I wanted to post this but now I’m on post limit cause my stupid reblogging ass fuck me I hate myself okay bye ugh I’ll schedule #this for midnight #I wrote this at nine thirty btw

[theostrophywife]

focus on me.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader request: I NEED MATHEO OR THEODORE X FEM READER AND SHE JUST LOVES HIS HANDS AND ARM VIENS AND SHE WALKS INTO HIS DORM AND IS GOBSMAKED TO SEE HIS ABS AND SHE WANTS TO RIDE THEM AND SHES JUST SO OBSESSED AND THINKS HES THE HOTTEST MAN IN THE PLANET- AND SHE FOLDS LIKE A PRETZEL WHEN HE GIVES HER THOSE EYES- JESUS IM A CATHOLIC BUT THEO AND MATTHEO COULD BE MY NEW RELIGION- author's note: big thanks to @writingsbychlo for listening to me rant about this man in her inbox. posting this now so she can wake up to her mans. the way that i would fold for mattheo so fast (theo look away). anyways, enjoy this purely smutty fic 😮‍💨

You were supposed to be studying. 

When you came into his dorm, you specifically told Mattheo not to interrupt you under any circumstances. Usually, you preferred the library but some prat had accidentally set off a dung bomb, which meant closure until further notice. 

You tried studying in your dorm, but your fellow housemates decided that there was no better time to throw a back to school bash in the common room than the night before your Ancient Runes exam. Harry and Ron, who shared the same class, appeared completely unbothered as they chugged firewhisky straight from the bottle. 

Your roommate Hermione was long gone. Probably holed up somewhere in the dungeons with Draco. You followed your friend’s cue and snuck into your boyfriend’s dorm, narrowly avoiding Filch. It never seemed fair that the Slytherins got individual rooms, but tonight you had never been more thankful for it. 

Mattheo had set up a whole battle station for you on his desk. There were fresh ink pots, newly sharpened quills, and blank parchment waiting for you when you arrived. After kissing your sweet and considerate boyfriend, you went straight to work. 

By the time midnight struck, the parchment was filled with glowing runes, making your ink stained hands cramp from drawing out the symbols over and over again. To Mattheo’s credit, he kept to himself and read quietly on his bed while you studied. 

You were so engrossed in the material that you barely registered him kissing you on the cheek before leaving to take a shower. That little mistake cost you because as soon as he walked back into his dorm with nothing but a towel on, you nearly spilled fresh ink all over yourself. 

Water trickled down Mattheo’s chest, the little droplets snaking through his perfectly chiseled abs only to disappear beyond his v lines, which pointed like an arrow to what you knew was hiding underneath that towel. 

The fabric hung dangerously low on his hips as he walked over to his dresser to pick out something to wear. You watched with rapt attention as he braced himself against the wood, those delicious, juicy veins protruding from his forearms and nearly making you dizzy with desire. 

Finally, Mattheo turned. The silence had caught his attention and he smirked when he saw you ogling him. 

“See something you like, pretty girl?”

You flushed. “Just got a little distracted.”

Mattheo’s grin grew. He sauntered over to you, leaning over so that he had you caged against the desk. 

“Oh?” he asked, his voice low and husky and absolutely fucking sexy. “Maybe it’s time for a break then. You’ve been such a good girl studying so hard all night. I think you deserve a reward, my love.” 

Your breath hitched as Mattheo’s lips grazed yours. He tilted your chin up, giving you a perfect view of those brown eyes. Then he gave you the look and you knew you were done for. 

It was a look that said he wanted to devour every inch of you until you couldn’t even recall your own name. You gave in. Of course you gave in. How could you not?

“Maybe for a second…”

Mattheo took the opening. One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you up with him as he pressed you against the desk. His other arm crept up your back until he reached the nape of your neck, fisting your hair through his fingers as he kissed you roughly. 

“Do you even know how fucking sexy you are, princess? My smart schoolgirl in her tiny little skirt.” 

Mattheo carefully moved your studying materials aside before picking you up and setting you down on the table. He gripped the top of your thighs and brought you to the edge while sliding his tongue against yours. You whimpered as he grinded against you, showing you exactly how hard he was underneath the towel.

“Been thinking about bending you over this table all night,” Mattheo whispered in your ear. His hand climbed higher up your thigh and you felt your body instantly respond to his touch. “Bet you’re soaking wet for me already, aren’t you angel?”

You moaned as he toyed with the waistband of your panties. “Matty, please.” 

Your boyfriend smiled at your nickname for him, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. “What is it that you want, darling?”

“Touch me. Please.” 

Mattheo smirked as he tugged your panties off. His lust filled gaze drank you in as he dragged two fingers through your slick folds. 

“Fuck. You’re so wet. Is this all for me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, nipping at his neck. “It’s not fair. You play dirty, Matty. You can’t just walk in here with nothing but a towel on.” 

“Why not, angel?”

You sighed, tracing the hard planes of his chest. His muscles flexed under your fingertips as you gently raked your nails against his six pack. “Because you’re sexy and I can’t help myself.” 

Mattheo chuckled darkly, plunging two fingers in your pussy. You bucked against his hand, watching in stunned silence as he withdrew it only to stick his middle and pointer finger into his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted you on him. 

“This is exactly what I mean,” you whined. “For Godric’s fucking sake, how am I supposed to concentrate after that?”

“Maybe we can compromise, angel.” He shuffled through your parchments and stuck one to the wall. “I’m going to trace the runes inside of you and if you get them all right, then I’ll give you your reward.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Mattheo grinned before giving you a quick peck. “Pay attention, sweetheart.” 

His fingers dipped through your folds once more and you gripped his arm, fighting the moan from escaping your lips. Mattheo curled his fingers inside of you, drawing a familiar shape. 

“Urus,” you said in a breathy voice. “It means strength.”

“That’s right, angel.” He shifted as you ran your hands down his arms. You could feel his veins throbbing underneath your palm as he fingered you. “Don’t get distracted now. I know how much you love my hands. I promise they’ll be wrapped around your throat by the end of the night if you get all these right. Now focus.”

You nodded, eyes fluttering close as he traced another rune. “Algiz,” you answered. “For protection.” 

“Hot and smart,” Mattheo announced proudly. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips grazed yours and you willingly parted for him, fluttering around his fingers as his tongue slid into your mouth. He pumped his digits inside of you, teasing and taunting. 

“Let’s try something harder, princess.” 

Mattheo’s skillful fingers prodded against your walls, sketching a complicated shape. You closed your eyes and focused. It was a tricky one, but you remembered the cris cross pattern. 

“Inguz,” you said decidedly. “Fertility.” 

“That’s right,” Mattheo said with a smile. “You're doing so well, sweetheart. One more and you can have anything you want.” 

“Anything?” you asked with a small smile.

“Whatever that devious little mind of yours desires, my love.” 

“Okay,” you replied. “I’m ready, then.”

Your boyfriend nodded, staring right into your eyes as he marked the last and final rune. It was an effort not to get lost in those warm, brown eyes. But you steeled yourself, determined to claim your prize.

“Rerth. For luck.”

“Good girl,” Mattheo said with a smirk. “Fitting since you’re getting lucky tonight, angel. Where should we start?” 

You bit your lip, cocking your head at him. It was nearly an impossible choice. You wanted to kiss him. Bite him. Lick him. All of the above and more. 

But there was one thing that stood out from all the other deliciously sinful choices. You pressed your palm against his abs and grinned. 

“I want to ride your abs.”

Mattheo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected it, but fuck he was so down. He would’ve given you anything with the way you were looking at him right now. 

“You never fail to surprise me,” he said fondly. “Well come on then, let’s make your filthy little fantasy a reality.” 

In one smooth move, he lifted you off the table and deposited you on top of his bed. Mattheo reclined against the headboard and watched with hungry eyes as you straddled his stomach. He smiled as you slipped the tie off your neck and looped it around him. 

It was a simple move, but so fucking sexy and possessive at the same time. You were claiming him. Mattheo was yours and you were his. You belonged to one another—mind, body, and soul. 

Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks on your skin as his deft fingers made quick work of the first few buttons on your blouse. He leaned back and admired his work, his hands gripping your hips while you grinded your soaking wet sex against his muscles. 

He didn’t think it would feel this good. There was something about you using his body to get yourself off that fucking turned him on like no other. Mattheo lifted your skirt up, fisting the fabric in his hands and watching as you coated him with your arousal. 

The little whimpers you were making sounded like music to his ears. “My good little slut,” he said, squeezing your tits as you rode him with reckless abandon. “You’re so fucking filthy, baby. Using me to get yourself off. I’m just your fuck toy aren’t I princess?”

“So good,” you murmured. “You feel so good, Matty.”

The desperation in your voice set him off. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and bucked forward, smirking in satisfaction when you moaned. The ridges of his abs rubbed against your clit, providing the perfect amount of pressure to the sensitive area. 

“Keep riding me,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Just like that, angel. Such a good girl for me.”

You closed your eyes, lost to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Mattheo gripped your chin, his voice rough around the edges as he spoke. “Open your eyes, darling. I want to watch you cum.”

His rich brown eyes pinned you in place, drinking in every detail. That sexy smirk curved against his lips as he hooked his arms behind his head, admiring the view of his girl riding him. 

“Look at you, baby. You’re making such a fucking mess. Such an innocent face, but you turn into a filthy whore when you’re with me.” 

“Only for you, Mattheo.” 

“Damn fucking right,” he said, sliding his hands under your skirt to rub at your clit. 

You bucked against him, riding out the high. Heat exploded in your core and seeped into your veins. Mattheo kissed you roughly, staking his claim on you as he devoured your moans. 

“That’s it, princess. Cum for me, pretty girl.”

The orgasm felt like a lightning strike. It hit you all at once, making your walls spasm as you came all over Mattheo’s abs. He cursed when he felt you soaking him through, utterly turned on by the mess that you’ve made. Mattheo had never been harder in his life. 

Your boyfriend peppered kisses on your face, pulling you taut to him as you came down from the high. Mattheo brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up so he could press his lips against yours. He groaned and held your hips down, grinding his boner against your ass. 

“I’m not done making you cum, princess. You’ve got one more in you, don’t you angel?” 

As sensitive as you were, your pussy throbbed at his words. When it came to Mattheo, you could never really get enough. 

“I thought I only got one reward. You’re spoiling me, Matty.” 

“There’s no question about it. You’re my spoiled rotten little princess. But this reward isn’t for you, it’s for me.” He smacked your ass, gesturing for you to get up. “Now come on, angel. I was serious about that desk.” 

He smirked as he walked you back to his desk, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he massaged your ass. Mattheo kissed you roughly before he flipped you over, bending you on the desk so you were face down and ass up. He flipped your skirt up, hissing when he found you soaking wet again.

“You just can’t help yourself can you, princess?” He pumped himself in his hand before sliding the tip of his cock along your folds. “Gods, you’re fucking wet. Are you ready, baby?” 

You whimpered, rocking your hips against him for more friction. Mattheo held you in place, fisting your hair in his hands. 

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg like the good little slut that you are.” 

“Please, Matty,” you whined. “I need you so badly that it hurts.” 

He kissed the base of your spine, grinning as he eased his length inside of you. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, you gripped the edges of the table as Mattheo buried his cock within your walls. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, but he kept you upright, cursing when he felt how wet and tight you were. 

“Fuck,” he grunted as he thrust into you slowly. Mattheo gripped you from behind, picking up the pace. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice. “Gods, pussy’s so good baby. You’re doing so well. Taking all of me like my perfect little whore.” 

Mattheo fucking adored the way you blushed at his filthy words. He leaned over, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you into the table. He thought he was going to pass the fuck out when you grinded back into him, meeting his movements to take more and more of him. Mattheo leaned over and shielded your head from the wall, making sure you were protected as the table shook underneath you. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your breathy little moans was enough to send him over the edge, but he wanted to make good on his promise. Mattheo always put his girl first. The boys were right. He might be just a little bit pussy whipped. 

Even without the sex, you could’ve asked Mattheo to kill for you and he would’ve done so without question. 

“I fucking love you, darling. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you,” he said, every word laced with conviction. “Forever and always.” 

“I love you too, Matty. Forever and always.” 

He kissed your cheek, the action surprisingly soft compared to how rough the sex was. You felt like you could’ve melted onto the floor. 

“Cum with me, my love.” 

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you as that familiar heat spread burned in your core. He held you as the orgasm rocked through your body, sharing in the euphoric high while the two of you finished together. His grip around you only tightened, hugging you from behind while he slowly pulled out. You were barely keeping upright as it was, your legs threatening to give out under you. 

Without a word, your boyfriend scooped you into his arms and brought you back to bed. He cradled you against him, whispering praises and encouragement while stroking your hair. 

“You did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you for remembering all those runes. You’re gonna ace your exam tomorrow.” 

“You really think so, Matty?” You snuggled against him, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mattheo stroked your back and placed a kiss on your temple. 

“I know so, darling. You have no idea how proud I am for having such a smart girlfriend. I love bragging about you to our friends.” 

You flushed. “Well, I couldn’t have done it all on my own. I had some help from my smart, sweet, and sexy study partner.

Mattheo grinned and kissed you gently. “Glad to be of service, my love.” 

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

please let me know if you'd like to be added.

#FERAL FOR THIS MAN #THE DELULU IS THE SOLULU #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo x you #benjamin wadsworth

[httpsclarye]

#GOOD LOKING+!

Your plan was quick and simple. You would go to the kitchen, make some tea to ease your headache, and then return to your comfy bed. You weren't expecting to come across your crew's blonde cook barechested cutting carrots.

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, swearing, pet names, big dick sanji, kitchen sex, blow job, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, sanji moaning, p in v type of sex.

Ao3: Good Looking

English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes :) Enjoy!

You are used to this. The utterly exhausted sensation after several hand-to-hand combats, so when the headache started when you finally lay down in bed, you just decided to ignore it; the sleep would catch up before it got.

Until the needed sleep never got you. So, after an hour or two of rubbing your temples and staring at the ceiling while feeling envy-induced annoyance for Nami’s peaceful breathing, you pushed yourself to stand up.

Even if the cool night air almost makes you wish you hadn't left your warm bed, you needed that green tea to stop the pounding headache in the back of your head. The kitchen lights shining through the window went undetected as your mind was busy figuring out how you could prepare the drink quickly so that the pain could cease as soon as possible.

“Oh, it’s you, darling. Is everything alright?” As you walked into the door and recognized Sanji's words, you snapped out of your thoughts and began to look over your surroundings. He was not wearing any type of shirt while he sliced carrots from behind the counter.

Barechested. Topless. Half naked.

“Y-yes, I mean, no. Just a headache.” You gaze the blonde in the eyes as you stumble through your sentences, you are merely vaguely aware that your face is beginning to turn red. “I just want that green tea; I know it's somewhere around here. I saw Nami storing it in the cabinets earlier.”

You felt foolish. You became used to seeing shirtless men given that you lived in the middle of the ocean and therefore often came across Luffy, Usopp, and even Zoro barechested. They would often walk around the deck that way on hot days. Sanji, however, always showed up in a suit or, at the very least, had a formal shirt rolled up to his elbows. Even so, there was no chance of seeing him dressed otherwise since he went to sleep after you and woke up before everyone.

“I can do it for you; it’s my job after all, taking care of my sweet girl.” He placed the knife down, threw the chopped carrots in a nearby pot, and proceeded to go through the cupboards. “Love, do you remember where she stored it? There are plenty of cabinets in this place.”

"What are you doing here?" You instantly regret your tone as you noted Sanji just froze in his search.

“I mean, sorry, the kitchen is your place, I know. I just never saw you here this hour, and me and Luffy go here to do midnight snacks sometimes”

“I could not sleep”

“Me too” Once again, an irrational remark. He was informed that you were having trouble falling asleep; that's why you were there. “Why the carrots?”

“The attack that happened today. I had hoped for more food, but I believe you are aware of how fucked our situation is.” He continued looking for the tea while chuckling flatly. “We don't know when we will receive more supplies; we right now have barely anything stocked. Even the carrot peels have been put to use in an effort to reduce waste, you know.”

You weren't sure how to respond. It was clear that everyone's mood was negatively affected by today's incident. The worry of what would happen in the next few days or weeks was filling your head since Usopp managed to escape the ship. His back was to you, so you were unable to see his facial expressions, but you couldn't help but notice his muscles.

You felt a little guilty since you couldn't take your focus away from it, despite him having just voiced some serious concern. Has he lately started working out, or has he always had muscles like that?

“Are you and Luffy close then?”

The sudden break in silence confused you as he turned toward you with the pot of tea in his hands and a pleased smile.

“I suppose so. After all, he was the one who invited me to join the crew, right?” You smirked at the thought. It wasn't much time—perhaps a few months—and you were losing track of time at sea. “I fearlessly agreed to become a pirate, although I had never spent more than two weeks on a boat.”

“I remember that. You were so naive”

Of course he remembers. When you joined the crew, it was very easy to have a conversation with Sanji; he was constantly complimenting you or flirting in a straightforward manner. You never took him seriously, hearing about the blonde's techniques from Nami from the first day, but it was often hard not to chuckle or blush when he was so…

“Not anymore.”

He grinned at you before returning his attention to the tea. It was impossible to look away from his bare chest. You were unable to rest your mind from imagining how his skin would feel on your hand now that he was in your line of sight. You are already aware that he's a good-looking man, but now seeing more of his body did things to you.

“All right, madam. Here is your tea.” He circles the counters until he's right next to you. Really close. His eyes twinkle with recklessness, and you know he caught you staring at his figure.

You ignore the tickle in your lower belly as you stand there, grab the mug in your hands, and sip while gazing at his face. He still has that typical smirk, and when you finally finish drinking your tea, he glances at your lips before returning to your eyes. Everything becomes fuzzy and hot then.

He's very close. His hand has been lying on the counter, his chest is nearly brushing your own, and you can't help but notice his modest, almost transparent blonde hair in there. Perhaps it's a sign for you to walk away, that this is going in a dangerous direction, but you can't.

“What dear? See something you lik-”

You interrupt him with a kiss; it's all very messy and quick, and he is unable to have time to handle everything. You come to an abrupt halt and stare at him with wide eyes, realizing what you have done.

“Sanji, fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant t-”

He didn't let you finish the apologies. His hand pulls your head back, bringing your lips together. The kiss looks right now. It begins carefully, with both sides cautious, but it quickly gets heated as he doesn't hesitate to push his tongue into your mouth.

You’re breathless when he finally pulls away, and his eyes are hungry. He didn't think twice before pressing his open mouth and tongue on your neck. A moan escapes from your lips.

His left hand shifts down to grab your hip, and you catch your breath. Your hands graze his nipples as you reach for his pecs, and he hisses at the fresh sensation in your throat.

“Gods Y/N, you’re going to kill me this way”

You chuckled, and he kissed you again, although this time you took charge, moving one of your hands to his blonde hair before tilting his head to grant you more access. You stop the action just to take a moment to recover and gaze into his dilated pupils. He looks so attractive like that that you can’t help but want to go down on him.

”Sanji,” You whisper breathlessly, enjoying the sensation of his name in your mouth, “let me taste you.”

He groans in response, which you take as encouragement as you lean down and proceed. You lick and kiss the trail that leads to his crotch, and he hisses softly, his abdomen tense beneath your hands and mouth. As you get down on your knees and look at his pants, you can see his erection, which seems big and marked.

You don't hesitate to pull down the waistband of his pants and boxers together, exposing his hard, leaking cock to your eyes. It's big. It's more than you expected. There's a buildup of cum at the head, and you reach forward and wrap your lips around it, licking gently just to tease.

You look up as you swirl your tongue over the tip and dip your tongue into the slit to see him biting his lower lips, his head thrown back. You wanted to see his face while sucking him. So you take him out of your mouth and cautiously wrap a hand around him, teasing him a little with your hand. Your movements are agonizingly slow as you lightly suck and lick the sensitive head until finally he looks down.

“Oh, darling, you’re so pretty like that.” Sanji whined above you, and then your mouth opened around the head of his cock, and he slid it into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck. So… so perfect.”

You can clearly see the blonde struggling to keep his composure, like how his knuckles are white while gripping the counter behind him. You relax your throat, take a long breath through your nose, and exhale slowly before swallowing him whole while gripping his inner thighs.

His penis is large, so the initial sensation isn't the most pleasant, but as he lets out a loud groan, you forget about everything. Something about hearing Sanji whine in the kitchen while you gagged on his cock made the aching between your legs unbearable.

"Oh yeah, Y/N. You are so good to me. Your mouth feels so good in me.”

You moaned softly at his words of praise, making vibrations around his penis, causing another moan from him. His left hand reached from the counter to your hair, and you didn't reject the help while bobbing your head up and down.

“My love, you are so perfec-“

A few tears occasionally escaped as you sucked him and he fucked your throat, sometimes only taking him out to run your tongue along his length. You started to see signs that he was close to cum. One of your hands left the thighs to rub his balls.

 “I… I'm going to cum, Y/N, dear... I" He gives you a chance to pull away from him, but you choose to continue and accept it all. You remove the entire length of his throat and leave just the head in your mouth.

He comes soon after, with a muffled groan, while you attempt to swallow as much as you can before it gets difficult, followed by a satisfied moan coming from you.

You felt his hand leave your hair, and for two or three minutes, you just remained there. He has his head back and is trying to catch his breath while you are on your knees, glancing at his chest and the beads of sweat gathering on his neck. It’s a perfect vision, honestly. You ponder whether he would notice if you began to masturbate right then.

“Come on, madam, let me help you up.” Sanji extends his hand to support you in getting up, and once you are upright, he grabs hold of your waist to keep you close to him.

He kisses you, tasting himself in your mouth. It's slow, and you realize he's still trying to emerge from his afterglow. When he breaks the kiss, that smile returns to his face, and you peck him once more just to get rid of it.

Sanji deepened the kiss again. And fuck, what else could you do but reply in the same aggressive way?

You're hoisted up by the hands on your hips and thrown onto the counter. The blonde is now between your legs, breaking the kiss, only to go straight to that specific spot on your neck that you're almost certain will leave a mark in the morning.

“Oh- Sanji,” You try to speak breathlessly as he licks your collarbone and his fingers brush the hem of your t-shirt, “You don’t h-have to do that.”

It wasn't that you didn't want Sanji. Since you entered that kitchen and spotted him without a shirt, you wanted this. Yet, you took the decision to give him an opportunity to back out, be thankful for the blowjob, and never bring up the matter again. Him taking you would be very personal.

“Please, my love,” You can hear the yearning in his voice as he whispers in your ear. “I just want to make you feel good too.”

You nod, and he attacks your mouth once again while his hands pull the hem of your t-shirt, exposing your chest, and you can't stop yourself from moaning at being so bare to him.

He doesn't think twice about placing his mouth on your breasts as he rolls the hard bud between his teeth and tongue and gives the other one a gentle stroke with his other hand. He bites your nipple as your head is flung back, and all you can do is pray that no one hears your loud scream.

He takes his mouth from your breasts and begins a trail down your stomach, and you can't stop whining due to the lack of warm sensation from his tongue in your niples, but you quickly figure out where he's headed as he lowers himself between your thighs.

He doesn't ask for permission as he aggressively rips off your shorts and, along with them, your underwear, revealing your pussy to him. He pulled your hips closer and dragged a finger down your folds, then placed it inside his mouth.

"Oh, you're so soaking wet, just for me, hm?" You are so stunned by the sight that you hardly pay attention to what the blonde is saying. “You taste so good, my darling.”

You stand on your elbows and glance at the man who is standing in between your legs. You can't help but gasp at the taunting as he starts giving you small small bites and kisses along your inner thighs. But you want him now.

“Oh Sanji, stop teasing for fuc-“

He didn't wait for you to finish the curse word before burying his face, pushing his tongue against your wet pussy, and licking a long, temptingly slow strip through your folds until he reached your sensitive bud.

In an attempt to create more friction, you thrust your hips into his mouth, and your left hand immediately settled on his blonde hair. Sanji found the ideal pattern to swirl his tongue over your clitoral region, leaving you panting for air.

He pushed two fingers deep within you, and you felt your walls clenching around them, sucking him in. His pace was fast, and he was still paying careful attention to your clit, leaving you close to the edge. You were a mess, and it wouldn't take long for you to cum. Yet you still needed him; you wanted more.

You sucked in a sharp breath and tried to block out the inappropriate sounds echoing through the kitchen.

“Sanji, p-please more”

"Use your words, my angel." You could see the glistening fluids from your pussy plastered on his chin when he pushed his head off of your thighs. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me, oh g-gods. I need you inside me." At your words, he groaned and took both of his fingers out to direct his cock at your entrance.

It wasn't difficult for him to enter since you were so soaked. At the feeling of it, you both simultaneously moaned. You felt completely filled; he just stood there for a while, waiting for you to get used to the size, until you signaled for him to start moving. It began off slow, but soon he started out moving his hips at a faster pace to satisfy both of you.

"You're perfect,” he moaned in two thrusts, and you had to put your hand over your mouth. “Look at you, taking my cock so well, oh darling.”

The hands on your hips let go and grabbed you under your right thigh, opening your legs and hitting you more deeply and faster. You thought you were seeing stars when he hit an exact spot inside your pussy that made you shout.

“Cum for me, my love. I know you want”

It didn't take long for your orgasm to hit you after that, your eyes rolled back and you let out a whine sound as you felt your walls squeeze his dick. He moaned along with you at the feeling and a few more thrusts and he came inside you.

Sanji's head fell directly to your shoulder, and you instinctively placed your palm in his blond locks. While the fluid was slowly dripping out of you, he continued to remain deep inside and breathe loudly.

He raised his head only to smile recklessly while glancing into your mouth. “So, do you still have a headache?”

Your hand reached out to push him, but you were helpless to suppress the giggles that came. He drew away from inside you but was still between your knees as he chuckled proudly.

“Do you think anyone heard?”

“I'm not sure, maybe when you let out that screa-" You slapped him on the shoulder to cut him off while embarrassed because of the probability. “Ok, ok my darling, next time we’ll find a more private place.”

“Next time, huh?

Sanji stood still with an anxious smile on his face; it was almost hilarious how someone so confident in themselves would respond in that manner. You wrapped his neck with both of your arms and gave him a quick kiss to reassure him that everything was fine.

"You should come to the kitchen more often, preferably alone.”

"And you should go shirtless more often too.”

"Only for you, my love.”

You gave him another kiss before leaving the counter, getting ready to go, and returning to the bedroom. Even though the night seemed to be becoming lighter, you were aware that there were still a few hours until sunrise. It was evident that there would be plenty of issues to address when you awoke, but for the time being, you were content, even though you were a little exhausted from the activities. As sleep came, all you could think of was Sanji and his smile.

© HTTPSCLARYE, 2023

#vinsmoke sanji x reader #i tried #one piece #english is not my first language #anyways sanji is hot #op #one piece scenario #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #taz skylar #sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #smut #sanji smut #opla #opla smut #sanji one piece #my works