#I FORGOT TO LINK THE BLINDING ASK GAME

[cb-writes-stuff]

I’m going to bed in several minutes (like, 5-ish), but I still want asks from this! If you want a list of names you can ask about, they are Nauth, Ven, Lynn, Mela, Elvi, Elial, William, Gloria, and Sils. You can also find more info about them in their character bios from the Project Opal Masterpost, linked in my pinned post!

[hyperfixiation-station]

🥺 hi. I get so anxious asking for requests. So I’m sorry if it’s weird. But could I please please Pleaseee get a ghost x fem reader. Hurt to comfort. They were on a mission and she’s there for medic help. Not even to fight. But she got taken by the bad guys. And she gets tortured for information that she doesn’t have. And they play mind games with her. Making her think that they will never come rescue her. They really fully break her body and break her mind by the end of it. But before she thinks she’s about to finally die, Ghost and the others come and save her. And it’s about how the only person she feels safe with after all that is ghost and just him helping her heal and get back to the woman she was before all this. I want it to hurt my soul. 😭 but then there’s hope at the end of it bc they have each other.

My Heart Will Go On

Don't be, I love when people ask me things, and I looooved this request so much!!! I too like to torturehave fun with my OC's :)

TW: Blood, torture, manipulation

Pairing: GhostxReader

Part 2

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all, actually. It was just another mission, another day on the job. You went out with the boys as usual, their assigned medic as theyghost refused to work with anybody else. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was your soft demeanor, your gentle touch, the way you never judged himthem for anything hethey did. But whatever it was, they liked you, and so with them you went.

You hung back at the evac point, also as usual. Sitting in the truck, first aid kit on your lap, a comm in your ear as you listened to your boys and made sure they were all okay. It was a tense fight, gunshots and pained grunting filling your headset. You were on edge, rocking back and forth as you listened for your que to come in. In fact, you were so focused on the comms that you didn’t even notice the danger you were in until it was too late.

Your first cue something was wrong was when the comms went silent. The sounds of battle filled your ears for hours before getting cut off abruptly. Your hand shot to the comm link, fiddling with it as you frantically tried to reconnect, worried something was wrong.

“Ghost, do you copy?”

“Ghost?”

“Price?”

“Gaz?”

“Can you hear me??” Your voice got more and more panicked as you got no response. You yanked the headset off and shrugged your vest on, kit in hand as you slid out of the truck.

Your second clue something was wrong was when you looked up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at your face. You didn't even have time to ask ‘what’ before everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello, princesa.” You blink hard as the blindfold is removed from your eyes. The light is blinding, the splitting headache you got from being pistol whipped only intensifying under the harsh lights.

“Who are you?” You manage after a moment, eyes slowly focusing on the man in front of you. He is large, easily over six foot, and built like an absolute unit. His face is covered by a black balaclava, though his scarred, tattooed forearms are on display.

“Don’t play stupid with me.” His voice is deep and smooth, and if you weren’t in the situation you are in you would have asked him to keep talking.

“‘M not! I don't-"

“Don’t lie to me Princesa. I don’t like liars.” A shiver runs down your spine as his tone darkens.

“But I’m-”

“Ah ah lovie, I am one asking questions here.”

“I wasn’t ask-”

“SHUT UP!” You flinch back at the drastic change in tone, the sound sending bolts of pain through your skull.

“Oh sorry Princesa, did that hurt?” Seriously, you are going to get whiplash from his bi-polar personality, “Forgot you have concussion. Let's get you Advil for that and then we see if you talk, yeah?"

You watch with blurry vision as he leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound sends waves of agony through your pounding head, and by the time you can focus again he's back.

All it takes is one well placed blow to the head, an attempt to get you to pay attention, and you're out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know anything I swear! Please! I don't know anything!” The sobs tear raggedly out of your throat, already raw from screaming. Your voice is scratchy and broken, but still you can't stop begging.

“I don’t know anything” You sob. Those words, I don’t know, had become your motto over the past few daysweeks(?)

“Oh Princesa. I know.” He croons, running a finger down your bruised face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time was meaningless. Has it been 2 days since you were captured? Two weeks? Months? You don’t know. Your meals come at staggered times, and your captors never come at a routine time. The lights turn on and off at staggered times, nothing in a set pattern, a system created to mess with your mind.

Not that you know that. This wasn’t the kind of life you lived. You were a medic for heaven's sake. Your hands had been built to mend, to fix, to heal. Not to clutch at broken bones, to scratch against cement, to be chained and broken. You arewere a gentle creature, not designed for this world of torture and terror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They no come for you." You moan as the words pound through your skull, nearly unintelligible.

"Wh'...y'say?" You mumble, voice scratchy and broken.

"You're friends, Princesa. They are no coming for you." He sighs and moves next you, prodding your side with his steel-toed boot, "You are replaceable, your skills are easily replicated, they no spend time and resources to find a simple medic."

"They…'ll c'me." You wheeze, refusing to belive that Price, that Gaz, that Soap, that Ghost, would just...leave you.

He laughs in response, digging his toe into your side until your gasping in pain.

"We shall see, Princesa. We shall see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t built for this. Weren’t built to recognize the manipulation, the mind games. Weren’t built to survive the two-face man who was reshaping your brain. The man who was your greatest source of pain, but also your only friend. The man that flayed your flesh open, but soothed and bandaged you when it was all over. This man, who was slowly becoming the only thing you could trust in your unstable world. He may bring you unbearable pain, but he brought you comfort too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That looks bad, Princesa." The man lightly touches the bones sticking out of your forearm. You whine in pain, clutching it to your chest. He chuckles, wiping your blood off on the cell floor.

"Let's get that fixed up, yeah?" His voice is soft, and gentle, and the nicest thing you've heard in a loooong time. His touch is the same, gentle caresses of bruised and broken skin, revolting and appealing at the same time.

Oh, it's utter agony as he sets and stitches your arm with no pain killers. You scream, back arching, lungs heaving, body seizing.

But after? Oh it's heaven. He holds you, cradling you against his warm body, making sure you don't go into shock, telling you you're a good girl, and that you've made him proud. You hate yourself for it, but you can't help but preen at the praise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He brings you a calendar. One month. It’s been one month since you got taken.

“It’s been over a month.” He says, a deep voice tinged with pity, “and no sign of your…friends. I’d give up being rescued if I were you, because they clearly have.” You can barely hear him as you stare at the paper in his hands, 31 days marked off with big, bright X’s. 31 days that you have been trapped here. 31 days that your squad…hadn’t come for you. Is he right? Are they really not coming? Did Ghost really give up on you? Are you-

“Ay Princesa, I even did what you asked. I sent your squad pictures and videos that even the greenest tech member could pull some coordinates from, but nothing. It’s like I said. Your ‘friends’ don’t care for you. They are not coming for you. I am your only friend in this place. Tell me, who bandages your wounds, who feeds you, who makes sure your living space is comfortable?”

“Y-you do.” You whisper uncertainty, “But…you also hurt me, don’t you?”

“Oh Princesa, I wouldn’t hurt ya if y’ would just listen. It not torture if you're disobedient. It's just…punishment.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, “And you just back-talked me. Do you remember what happens when you try to give me sass?”

"I get…punished." You mumble, cheeks flushing with shame.

"Obviously, you fucking idiot. I mean how."

"I…you…I have to do affirmations."

"Look at that, y'r gettin' it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Say it again." He snarls. You sit in front of a mirror, face bruised, bleeding, and swollen.

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends…'re n-no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'v'ble…I 'm r'pl'c'…able." You whisper for the hundredth time.

"Again."

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends 're no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'vable, I 'm r'pl'c'…able."

"Again!"

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends 're no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'vable, I 'm r'pl'c'…able."

He makes you keep going, repeating those 4 sentences until you literally can't make sound anymore, a fact he tests by seeing how much it takes to get you to scream. You pass out before he gets anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ghost?"

"Simon?"

"Please."

"Why are you not coming for me?"

just FYI if the timing seems disjointed and the speech is wierd, that is intentiweird,

anyways I hope you liked it!!!!

[mondscheinprinzessin]

ThankYouBlindChannel Advent Calender Day 18

Hello my friends, another december day, another contribution to @another-sun advent calendar. I have prepared a little something for you😊

It's based on this answer of an old ask game where Gemma and I played around with a possible future of Blind Channel's break-up and an inevitable encounter of them all (this was before they announced their break okay, I'm sorry, but I found it oddly fitting now😭). You can read the linked post first if you want, this fic might make more sense if you do, but you don't have to.

Enjoy!

Santeri’s End Of The Year party (he’s insistent it’s not a Christmas party) was perfectly nestled between the bleak winter days leading up to New Years Eve and the hectic Christmas holidays. It was a welcomed break after the chaotic family dinners and quarrels, and a foreshadowing of the coming alcohol-hazed parties accompanying people into the new year.

The event was a great mix between professional and casual since there were both friends and family, and managers of the Finnish music scene present. Nobody had to impress anybody, it wasn’t the place to make connections, rather to look back on what has been achieved that year, while your partners told embarrassing stories to your possible future boss.

Santeri had long been promoted from being a simple tour manager to a high-tier production manager, but the people in his social circles haven’t changed much. He might have grown a little bit more cynical and his hairs have gotten greyer but he still wasn’t one to cling to influential people just for a better job outcome, and so the same old friends have been invited, his long-time ones of Blind Channel being no exception.

They haven’t missed a single party ever since he had started this tradition several years ago. This year they just weren’t coming as one unit but rather as people on their own. Albeit Santeri didn’t know if all of them would even come. Not after what had happened.

__________

Joel was late, he knew that, but he didn’t care. In his books, being fashionable late was a rockstar thing (that was his excuse anyways) and lately the only way he was coming even close to that status. His appearance taken out of the quotation, but his music life wasn’t exactly the glamorous one people had seen for him.

Well, he couldn’t please everybody, and he had always sucked helping himself, so why should he care about anything. He was just that random dude with big dreams that got crushed hard and was now forgetting about the sunglasses in his greasy hair that needed a new bleach, and was frantically going around his flat in search of his favourite pair of rings.

Instead he dug into a pile of necklaces and what his hand grabbed almost made him choke on his next breath.

An almost forgotten keepsake that everyone of them had gotten from Olli and one that Joel didn’t dare keep in the vicinity of where he could see it or else pain was coming back to him so overpowering that he rather shoved that present way back into a drawer. Where it was found months after that tragic life-turning day.

He was ready to bury it again for another year.

“But…”, his brain already started running around while his thumb was stroking the cold metallic material, “…this party was the only occasion where wearing this necklace would make sense, nobody should forget about them and what they’ve achieved.”

Exactly. He should wear it proudly with his head held high. Who else could say they’ve done what they’ve done. Before their crash, before they’ve burned themselves to the ground. But nonetheless. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, or fake sadness. They’ve been one of Finland’s biggest export bands, why should Joel try to push away the evidence of that.

Without questioning himself further he put the necklace around him carefully and forgot about the rings. He was late and his driver was already downstairs, probably on their fourth song drumming on the steering wheel. He was ready.

__________

“Honey, I will not wait around in this beautiful dress. If you don’t hurry up I will leave your ass here and give Santeri his present on my own.”

Minna’s words were reaching his ears, but Niko was rooted in front of the mirror where he was deciding on a last-minute change of his shirt.

At least that has been his mission, but sliding out from his old one, black ink had captured his attention in the glass. A tattoo of roses and a specific shape enclosing them, like it was holding the represented people close to him. Like he had once held them in his arms. Like he had spent hours, days, weeks with them in close proximity, sharing everything and nothing.

Exactly like the tattoo he couldn’t have ever imagined getting rid of them. This was supposed to be permanent, a choice he has made a long while back intended to stick.

Spending hours on a chair in pain, like he had spent blood, sweat, and tears. So much in all of the band’s history. And in the end he could only wonder if it was all for nothing, if all that was left was a portray of another time that brought memories he only ever thought of fondly.

Well, the times have changed.

A pair of arms hugged him from behind and a warm body clung to his back. A kiss was pressed to his neck, and his head turned away from the mirror. A hand brushed over his side with the tattoo and no words were spoken while Minna slid a shirt from its hanger and handed it over to Niko.

He was aware that she could read him perfectly and knew what was going through his mind, not everything in his life had changed, and he was glad that he didn’t need to explain himself. The matter was too complex even for him to put into words. Not that he didn’t try, but the perfect expression hadn’t come yet. Maybe he will keep trying, a good challenge had always kept him going.

Careful hands had buttoned up his shirt, and with another kiss Niko felt ready.

__________

Another hit, another bang, another loud sound reverberating through the studio.

His hair had gotten longer again, although he had kept it blonde, and it was swinging in front of his face, sticking to his forehead and nose, going into his eyes and up again. But Aleksi didn’t mind at all, concentrated on hitting the drums in the right rhythm which was the essence of this practice session.

He had already been ready to call it a go, but nervous energy had made him stop and go downstairs into his home studio. A little drum session was what he needed to calm down and which hadn’t let him down once. If there was nothing else, there was his drums, and guitars, and his music to calm down the world around him and the storm in his mind.

He knew why he was feeling so antsy, didn’t need to explain to any of his friends and Robin why he had been in his head the last couple days leading up to the party. The big reason why had been plastered over all news channels in Finland, no newspaper could go without the story. The story of his misery, but a story of money for them.

But if there was one person who he could trust with it the most it was Robin (who he had connected again not long after the break-up, ready to come out of his slump and do something productive, not ready to call it quits in the music industry completely).

He was the guy who cheered him on the most awfulness days. Who was even picking him up today to make sure “he wouldn’t hide in his studio with his adorable dog and use work as an excuse”.

Aleksi hated that it had definitely been on his mind, and he hated that Robin had looked through him, but he also hated that this has been his first go-to strategy instead of braving the possible encounter with his old bandmates.

Honestly, he would love to see each and every single one of them, but he was afraid of the wave of feelings that would come with it. While he definitely made break-throughs with his production company, the same couldn’t be said on his personal matters. He wasn’t prepared in the slightest to face them and the attached memories.

But, the year was almost over and it was time to face old demons, and Aleksi definitely didn’t want to celebrate the new year knowing he was a coward who couldn’t bear seeing friends. He had to be ready.

[spoonyglitteraunt]

Me when building stuff to solve problems: OSHA is weeping so hard right now, but if I try hard enough it may stick together juuuuuuust long enough to finagle myself through this mess.

Look, it may not be pretty nor functional but… no, yeah, that’s all I got.

Link is a swordsman, not an architect.

I said my fear of heights does not translate to the game. But it seems rackety bridges over a ravine did not get that memo. Might have something to do with my shaky hands and me being chronically unable to not sway around like a drunk elf who wouldn’t pass a sobriety walk the line test if his life depended on it (and it does).

I hear enemy music but see no enemy. I’m not sure if the game is confused or I’m just that blind.

Answer: I was semi blind. I forgot land octorocs were a thing.

Okay, the rocket shields are legit very fun and terrifying at the same time.

You are now tasked to travel all over to investigate Zelda’s appearances for the paper. I mean, I was already kinda doing— There’s clothes in it for you. Call me Jimmy Olsen and get me kidnapped, for I’m getting you ALL the news.

Remember what I said about my builds being about ten different OSHA violations in one go? Yeah now imagine me having to make a very long and thin bridge over an icy ravine. Hey there random NPC complaining about the lack of bridge, do I got a life threatening dangerous construction new way to cross to try out just for you.

It genuinely hurts to see the Rito village like this. This was one of my favourite places from botw and to see it nearly empty and in this state just is all the feels. Well done devs on setting the mood I guess, but can I fix it already?

Tulin look at your adorable face! You’ve grown so much my little man.

Wait Teba is the new elder? That explains why he isn’t the one coming along, but uh what happened to the owl dude? Again I ask, how long did I nap???

“He’s having trouble hearing no.” Teba, my man. I remember a birdie who wouldn’t listen to being told no and it being impossible to go up to vah medoh. That’s your kid alright.

[wirewitchviolet]

I did a big intense Halloween marathon stream and forgot to ask for donations.

So... last night, to simultaneously celebrate Halloween, do something for my birthday, and encourage people to maybe donate a little money my way, I sat down for a blind playthrough of the game SOMA.

I ended up playing for close to 9 straight hours. Didn't finish it in one sitting since... wow was a scary amount of that time spent running around circles in a particularly stressful and maze-like part of the game, but I intend to go back and finish it next week. At least, assuming I have electricity next week. See, I forgot to really promote the links while streaming but I am literally completely out of money. I have exactly enough in the bank to cover this rent check I have to write tomorrow and that's IT. Nothing left for other bills, food, gas, etc. So uh... I would really really appreciate it if anyone felt like throwing me some Patreon donations maybe? And I should also finally set up some proper one-time option, I'll get to it ASAP. Oh and if you caught the birthday bit and care, this is also a link.

Anyway SOMA's pretty good. Looking forward to finishing it.

[sonocomics]

I had honestly totally forgot you had done comics for Fire Emblem until that question + link to the master post the other day lol. I play through a lot of games with a friend (always a replay for me, she goes in blind) and whenever possible I like sharing some of your comics with her if it's one you've done comics for c: I see the 3 Houses list only covers the White Clouds route; I know you've got your monthly schedules, but do you think you'll ever do more 3 Houses comics for any of the other routes?

Also sorry for the longish ask akdjakdns

Aw, that's so cool :>

As for more 3 houses comics it depends if the game gets voted for o: (also White Clouds is just the starting part of the game rather than the route haha anything in the first part of the game regardless of route will go there - rn I'm in gold deer)

[yanderefairyangel]

I often see people complaining that the world building in Fire emblem Engage varies from lackluster to non existent with obviously a comparison with 3 H and I disagree. It's more that the game have different approaches.

Three Houses has a gigantic worldbuiling but it's mainly confered through infodumping and exposition dialogue 99% of the time, with the same information often repeated again and again

it's so massive that the game itself ends up losing itself in it, often not getting to use some of worldbuilding info it gave or forgetting about some of it. The funniest example of that is that the writer forgot they gave Byleth a canon birthdate but still allow you to choose one

Engage in comparison has a much tamer worldbuiling, but it doesn't info dump it on you. The only instance of the story doing it is Lumera introducing the world to Alear in chapter 1 and Alfred in chapter 4

Other then that the game allows you to explore said era of said world. You aren't stuck into the Somniel with having to ask some NPC to learn that there is snow in Elusia, you actually get to visit Elusia and see the snow for yourself. And Engage's graphic quality is so amazing that it's impressive how they managed to make the maps and the exploration hub phase this close to look similar. And even then you still get to talk with some of the NPC to learn more about said region. You get to adopt the local animals, which allows the player to see that in Elyos, there is actual species specific to a region : some can be found in all Elyos, are avalaible on all part of the world while some can be found only in Firene or Elusia.

The cafeteria in the Somniel have special dishes linked to each kingdom. The Somniel donation maps shows that each kingdom has it's own ressources that are tied specifically to them. You can even unlock some special clothing linked to said or said region of the world.... even if the art direction of Engage is quite the cans of worms.

Even the Fell xenologue for its flaws is no exception. each of the info given by Nel or the DLC cast contrast with the main game. When you compare the two you realize how much worldbuilding they are able to show in few lines. Stuff like Nel simply mentiong how her specie is Elyosian native makes you realize how much things have changed when it comes to Sombron and Lumera's lack of kinship, the fact that Lumera died 1000 ago making it so that Alear was her biological child else they couldn't even be half divine dragon. Or how Nel would mention that Elusia's cathedral in her world was that of Hasaude rather then Destinea but that they have the same architecture and combining this with how Gradlon temple also have gothic architecture you can deduce that this is something specific to Sombron's followers. And Zelestia mentioning how in her world, her tribe suffered genocide from Xenobron, this means that none of the children that Sombron had in his world, including Veyle, could have a Mage Dragon mother, making it that his kids are genetically different from their XenElyos counterpart, like he is genetically not related to MG Sombron since he has a completely different set of ancestors. This is also the case of Madeline and Marni.

And of course, the support conversation. People complain that Engage doesn't focus on the politics of Elyos but all you have to do is unlock Céline and Diamant's personal convos. With Diamant you can pretty much learn everything about Brodia even if it's not infodumping. How he is a patriotic prince, but unlike Xander he isn't blind to the flaw of his father's politics. And while I do wish there were more moments of those character, Queen Even and King Morion gets a lot of characterization thanks to the little we see of them and the info given by the supports : with Queen Even we learn that despite being a pacisfist she shows little patience to those who threaten her country and isn't one to let herself scared easily. She is even the one intimidating Nelluce. And through King Morion's interaction with Diamant and Alear we can see he is a good father, but a man who has quite the eagerness to fight. The first thing that came to his mind meeting Alear was to challenge a dragon.

And that's how we learn that the Brodian nobility stimulates this side of him to convince to him to conquer more territory such as Elusia, even though what motivate the nobility is their own greed. Solm and Firene are aware of that. Timerra's convo with Diamant as her asking him about peace because she knows that if Brodia conquers Elusia, Solm might be next on the list. After all Diamant himself in his A support with Alfred fears that Brodia might want to break the non agression pact with Firene because Firene being the kingdom of abudance, it's a very wealthy country. And Brodia's warmonging manner is why Solm and Firene tried the way of peace to protect themselves, especially Firene. We also learn that the Brodian nobility uses Citrinne as a bridge to watch upon Diamant in order to convice him to follow his father's way, and since he already had two retainers, that why they set her with Alcryst which gave her a lack of confidence in her own skills.

and while we do miss some info about how Sombron ended up being revered by Elusia, we do know that is cult involve human sacrifices and the followers to mutilate themselves, such as Griss was ready to do so in his own devotion as said in Mauvier's support with Gregory. It's also likely that Elusia revered Sombron because of his power since Dragon in FE are revered as deities because of their power, and while Divine dragon were shown to be powerful, Sombron can literaly revive the dead

and Engage also gets to touch on discrimination with Veyle and her painfull experience as being a dragon. Girl saw her mother tortured by human and would also get hated for that. That's also why Alear have so little knowledge about the world. Since they are actually a fell dragon, their knowledge of the human world is limited. The Fell twins might come from another universe, but it's obvious they suffered the same thing. Nel and "Nil" arent very welcomed by Zelestia at first, and Altfred and Fell!ine hated them for being... dragons. Nel's interaction when she ate a meal she dislike or when she trains shows she isn't familiar with much of the human concept, and Rafal does takes things at face values too like how he though of Camilla saying he could rest on her shoulder was literal or when he told Ivy he had no idea what an academy was and had to read all sorts of book just to play the teacher. Alear is no different and arguably less knowledgable then them as when we met them in their past form, they speaks hiragana meaning they not only knew just the basic of language, but the fact that they don't use a single kanji means their language is even less developped then someone like Anna, who does use hiragana too but still uses some kanji notably when refering to Alear as "Shinryu-sama". We also have genocide : Sombron's family in his own world was killed, but he also mentions how he is the sole survivor of his entire tribe, losing all his family and friends. He ended up inflicting the same thing on Lumera too and in her world, Zelestia was also victim of genocide while all Divine dragon went extinct.

And that was all for today. I have drawings to cook and essays to bake

[space-blue]

🖊 pls talk more about your oc with the synthetic kuru!

Thank you for asking!! And for your patience! I've been riding a wave of exhaustion and I finally have the time and headspace to answer...

Eyre is simply the evil/toxic agender representation I never got to play with yet. A friend (@chelbizzaro) started working on an AU for an avatar longfic that is a delightful sandbox to make OCs for. It'll be called Simulacra AU, keep an eye out for it!

In this AU the link beds were originally devised to 'drive' other humans with psychic powers (and using them for blackops style missions across the world). That entire gimmick gets exported to Pandora in secret, working to undermine Eywa and prepare the world for humanity's future. 

While most of these espers (called psychers) are unwilling, puppetted, and end up being turned into replicants for Pandora (with adaptations like breathing the air and having a weird neural queue, which go inside the synthetic sheath!), Eyre is different in that they are eager and willing! 

They were picked up as a child by the Big Bad :™:  (an increasingly mechanical android called Balcom) and brought to his "institute". While others took to that poorly, or rebelled against the way they were being used, Eyre leaned into it. Eyre's scars come from one of their parents trying to scratch their eye out (they won't tell which, and anyway by the time they were found only their dad remained, and Balcom killed him. 

Eyre is just grateful, and their parental issues make them lean into any affection/approval they receive. Balcom is careful to ensure that's coming from him only, as Eyre grows into their powers. 

Think flavours of Arcane Jinx, except without the mental issues Jinx has, and with far more dedication towards the father figure's "cause". 

By the time they're on Pandora, Eyre has travelled there in cryo, has been operational the entire time, and is ready to cause Trouble with a capital T. They're in their mid-30s, though cocktails of anti ageing drugs and others have boosted their height (192) and kept them gangly. 

Their power is sight/spying related. They can see through the eyes of people in a certain radius around them, broadcast/relay vision, or alter it. 

Example : They can give you vertigo. They can confuse your sight so you trip and fall. They can show you what they see (and maybe what they see is the torture they're inflicting on one of your loved ones? Maybe you're trying to flee, and you're desperately looking for your way out, and they see everything you see. 

It's hard to hide from them. And once they have a grip on you, it's game over. 

As a result Eyre has a very fucked up understanding of boundaries. You can't convince them to feel bad about spying on people, because they do it like breathing, forever relying on others' sight to complement their own spatial perception. 

They're blind in their left eye, and I've played with the idea of them having blindfolds/helmets to be worn to limit the scope of their power. It only dampens them. If you give them inhibitors like the other psychers, they become a very miserable one-eyed kicked puppy. 

Eyre prizes their freedom highly (freedom compared to less willing psychers) and any show of displeasure from Big Daddy Balcom feels like the end of the fucking world. 

Which is why, after a big fuck up on their part, they take extremely poorly to having a recom assigned as their 'security detail'. They see Erik as a glorified babysitter. Takes them a long time to warm up to him.

More about Erik right here! I'm so happy, because his smug face seems to have inspired some friends, and he's getting art that has me folded in a pretzel! 

PS: forgot to mention the cybernetics on their face! It's a mix of helping with the migraines straining their powers causes, and a micro computer database, that helps them draw conclusions on what they observe. By definition, 80% of Eyre's training is recognising things at a glance. No use in spying on people if you can't ID what you're seeing. But sometimes they'll see 3 types of plants, and will need the computer's help to figure out the are all 3 plants are grouped together, if that makes sense? It helps them refine any analysis they need to do on the go and in the field.

[crypticcodexcreations]

Incorrect Quotes Game!

@inkspellangel was kind enough to tag me in probably my favorite tag game on this site! So, I hope everyone is ready for me to go nuts with the Reapers characters. Edit: Just realized I forgot to link the quotes generator! Kind of important! Here it is!

Isa: Walking in to a room Sorry I’m late… I was… doing things. Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder Aelius: Out of breath HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

--

Adonis: I'm incredibly fast at math. Metis: Alright, what's 30x17? Adonis: 47 Metis: That's not even close. Adonis: But it was fast.

--

Isa: Here's some advice Aelius: I didn't ask for any Isa: Too bad. I'm stuck here with my thoughts and you're the only one who talks to me

--

Fay: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate, or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate? Daedalus: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

--

Adonis, in a beach shirt: So sue me, it's October and I'd like to be on Island Time for a day! Metis: I have Spotify open right now on my computer, do you want me to blast you? Do you want me to put you on blast? Cuz I've got your history right here on the sidebar, Metis: Take it Back by Jimmy Buffet, Nautical Wheelers by Jimmy Buffet, Jolly Mon Sing by Jimmy Buffet, Steamer by Jimmy Buffet, trEAT HER LIKE A LADY BY JIMMY BUFFET, MAÑANA BY JIMMY BUFFET, WHEN SALOME PLAYS THE DRUMS BY JAMES BUFFET, HAVANA DAYDREAMIN BY JIMMY BUFFET- What the FUCK happened to you?! Adonis, laughing: I HAD A CASE OF THE MONDAYS Metis: ARE YOU HAUNTED?! ARE YOU FUCKING POSSESSED?! Metis: YOU USED TO BE MY FRIEND Adonis, cry-laughing: ᴵ ᴴᴬᴰ ᴬ ᶜᴬˢᴱ ᴼᶠ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴹᴼᴺᴰᴬʸˢ

--

Fay: Okay, truth or dare? Daedalus: Truth Fay: How many hours have you slept this week? Daedalus: Daedalus: …Dare Fay: Go to bed. Daedalus: I don’t like this game.

--

Daedalus: I slept for almost 12 hours but I might still be tired so lets go for 12 more just incase. Marcus: Daedalus, that's a coma. Daedalus: Sounds festive.

--

Regius, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Adelaide: You did WHAT– Adonis: William Snakepeare

--

Adelaide: Aelius, keep an eye on Isa today. They're going to say something to the wrong person and get punched. Aelius: Sure, I’d love to see Isa get punched. Adelaide: Try again. Aelius, sighing: I will stop Isa from getting punched.

--

Aelius: Hey, Daedalus? Can I get some dating advice? Daedalus: Just because I’m with Fay doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

--

Adonis: You have to apologize to Emily Isa: Fine. Isa: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

--

Jester: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Daedalus: I'm a knife. Fay, from across the room: He's the little spoon.

--

Aelius: Hey, it's your turn to wash dishes. Isa: I'LL WASH THE WALLS RED WITH YOUR BLOOD. Aelius: 'Kay, but before that, wash the dishes, also use soap this time?

--

Metis: Someone will die. Adonis: Of fun!

--

Isa: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! Adonis: Really? Name one law Isa: Don't kill people? Adonis: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

--

Fay: holding a bottle Is this whiskey or perfume? Daedalus: chugs entire bottle Daedalus: It’s perfume.

tagging @blind-the-winds @andromedaexists @fearofahumanplanet and leaving an open tag!

[calsvoid]

For the gcv ask game !

Americano/Dance again

Help

Bohemian rhapsody

Barely breathing

Dog days are over

(Good luck ranking the songs because I let Spotify pick them on shuffle and they are all so good.)

someone please send me the link to this because i think i forgot to tag it in my reblog and i can’t find it

edit: i found it!

send me five gcv songs to rank

this was SO goddamn hard because some of these are my favorite gcvs of all time and i’m the most indecisive person ever, but here’s my ranking

1. Barely Breathing

i think i’ve listened to barely breathing a million times it’s genuinely one of my fav glee duets and while the context sucks it’s such a beautiful song and i love it

2. Dog Days Are Over

this was obviously going to be high up in the ranking it’s iconic it’s beautiful it’s tina cohen-chang

3. Bohemian Rhapsody

on its own the song is already pretty good but the hilarity of overlaying it with quinn giving birth skyrockets it into one of the greatest performances of all time, but unfortunately this did have to get only third because im biased for the other two and too blind to care about anything else

4. Americano/Dance Again

okay i have a love hate relationship with americano/dance again it is a VERY good performance and i love cassandra july but some parts of it get stuck in my head in a bad way and that’s always gonna bother me. other than that i have absolutely no bad things to say about this gcv, i think its a bombass mashup and very fun and if it weren’t for me being a whore for the other songs on this ranking it would be much higher

5. Help

is this so low because i’m a seblaine shipper? honestly no i just don’t enjoy help as much as the others. while it is an awesome cover and i love blam duets, i’ve just never been a big fan of beatles songs (though help is one of my more liked songs of theirs) and so it isn’t ranked higher. blam as always though sounded amazing and i am grateful for the warbler moments i got from this performance

[fourswords]

on top of this...ezlo is, canonically, a super famous sage in the minish world. and he says himself that he doesn't take on apprentices very often. so i mean. i think the fact that ezlo took on an apprentice would be a Big Deal in craftsman/sage/inventor circles or whatever; at least enough for people to be aware that he had an apprentice at all. and obviously vaati couldn't stay cooped up in ezlo's house 24/7—if ezlo didn't send him out on stupid errands sometimes then i'll eat my own hat. he's EZLO. people have to know who vaati is. they're going to notice his sudden disappearance, and also ezlo's sudden disappearance because link's adventure in the minish cap also canonically took, at the very least, over one month to complete (which means the door between their worlds also stays open for a very long time, which is fascinating to think about. anyway, the quote: "Hm?! Sniff sniff! Sniff sniff! Do you smell something…weird? Oh! Oh my! I'm sorry, Link! You see, I… I… I hid a little eggy snack in your hair about a month ago, and… I completely forgot about it! Oh, dear… It's quite disgusting!" off-topic but shoutout to link for not washing his hair for a month straight. ezlo was right when he described his hair as a rat's nest).

so ezlo and vaati are both gone for at least one month. probably longer. a few months, maybe. and then only ezlo returns, and he has to clean out vaati's room, covered in dust from their absence, and now he also has to deal with everyone he runs into asking how his apprentice is, where his apprentice is, and so on. and you've gotta wonder how he's even supposed to respond to that. do you think he questions people about it? like "yeah, uh, the last time you saw my former student...was he acting strange? did he say anything odd?" in an effort to see if he truly was just That Fucking Blind to not realize what vaati was planning to do right under his nose or if vaati just hid it well enough that nobody could've prevented it? and then he just says that vaati isn't his apprentice anymore and leaves it at that? he already blames himself in the game (".. Ah, what have I created?") and there's no doubt in my mind that vaati's downward spiral is going to haunt him until the day he dies. his student, whom he took in as a boy, growing up into something so monstrous that it prompted his in-game figurine to switch pronouns from "he" to "it". absolutely bonkers

ezlo followed vaati out of the minish world immediately after vaati stole the cap and so when he gets back after the adventure, after everything is said and done, he's going to have to clean out vaati's room. i think about that sometimes. it was never explicitly said within the game but in the manga vaati does live with ezlo and i think that the same would go for the gameverse side of things as well because "apprentices living with their masters" is a pretty common thing. so vaati had a room. and ezlo is going to have to clean it out. because vaati dies at the end of the game. and it's just. head in my hands

[carolinasgirl]

RELIEF

Summary: [6k words] After you have been struggling to orgasm for a while your friend recommends a sex therapist to you. When you finally work up the courage to set up an appointment, not expecting to have the best sex of your life.

!! WARNINGS: unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), degradation kink, slight pain kink, fingering, daddy kink, thigh riding, mentions of anal, could suggest cheating.

special gif credits to @chasm2018​ !!

“Is his stroke game bad?” Your best friend, Sydney, asks you, digging into her lunch after taking a sip of her drink. 

The sun gleams down on your face, your fork playing around with your food as the conversation makes your mind run in circles, slowly turning you crazier and crazier. “No, it’s not that, I just don’t think I can orgasm and my gynaecologist sucks, it’s like she just doesn’t listen to what I’m saying.” You sigh, shaking your head and placing down your fork with aggravation. “It’s nothing to do with Brandon, I think it’s just me.”

“You had mind-blowing orgasms with Josiah though?” 

“God, that was years ago. All the one night stands I’ve had, you’re telling me I can’t squeeze out one orgasm. Brandon’s ex always talked about how great he was in bed, my body just doesn’t like him for some strange reason.” You rant, venting out your frustrations that have been building up for a while now.

For a while now, you’ve been hooking up with Brandon, he’s been a friend with benefits for months and within all these months you are yet to have one single orgasm. You’ve been craving that cloud nine feeling for so long. The one night stands you have indulged yourself in have been one-sided, guys being blinded on how to please a woman. Brandon is interested in pleasuring you, yet you don’t believe he knows how to, even if he is has given his exes joyous sex.

Sydney sighs from the other side of the table, bringing her phone out which makes you tip your head to the side in confusion. “Remember that sex therapy place I told you about?” 

“Sydney, no. Who goes to sex therapy alone?”

“I do and it blew my mind. It’s pricey but the orgasm he gave me with just his fingers… Amazing. It���s literally just like a gynaecologist, but purely just orgasms.” She hums at her final word, tapping at her phone, sending you the contact for the ‘therapist’ she is talking about.

You grab your phone that lies on the table, picking it up so you can enter your passcode and click onto your texts with Sydney. “Harry Styles?”

“Okay if you’re going to bitch about it, then continue to fake your orgasms.” She rolls her eyes, calling the waiter over to ask for the bill. “Just think about it.”

As you sit at home later on that day, your fingers are twitching against the contact that your best friend has sent you and your mind is hammering with all the pros and cons of what this sex therapy will do to you. The pros are outweighing the cons massively. You’ve reread the website over 1000 times, the reviews all positive and everything looking just as tempting as Sydney described it.

“Fuck it,” You say out loud, fingers dancing across the screen.

To Harry Styles: Hello, my friend suggested you to me early today for solo sexual therapy. She gave me your number and the link to the website and  I was just wondering if you have any appointments free for anytime this week. Thank you.

You throw your phone onto your bed, avoiding looking at it and cringing at yourself from the awkward text that you just sent off. Questions taking over your body; was the text too informal? Should you have been more friendly? You even forgot to mention your name. Maybe a smiley face at the end would’ve made it seem kinder. Is it too late to send one?

A ping from your phone draws you out of your discomfort and you finally emerge out of the ball that your limbs instantly curved into as soon as you hit that send button.

From Harry Styles: Hi! Thank you for the text and thank you to your friend for referring me. We have an appointment today at 6 PM to get everything checked out, you can read up about it on our website, but it’s just to check if you’re able to take part in the sexual therapy. If you’ve ever visited a gynaecologist, it’s as simple as that, you’re with a professional doctor so don’t worry. The results take 7 days to come back if they are all clear, I can book you in for an appointment with me next Monday at noon. 

And that is where it all begins.

You let Harry know your name and any other necessary details and you are all booked. You arrive at your check-up appointment on time, bringing your ID and letting the receptionist know all your details which she typed into the system, letting you through to the female doctor who sat you down and explained everything to you calmly. She was brief but detailed, leaving all the important facts for Harry to tell you. She took the tests which went by like a breeze and made you tick from a list of things you would like to do with Harry and things you didn’t want to do. You ticked all the boxes. 

Time rushed by. Even though you were dreading the appointment, the 8 long-awaited days felt like a rush. You were working from home and you spent a lot of your time with friends, all of them hyping you up for your appointment that they have been pushing you to make for the longest time.

And now you are currently sitting in the waiting room, scrolling through your phone and on the verge of backing out, spamming the group chat to hopefully emit some nerves that are running through your entire body, creating goosebumps along your freshly waxed skin.

From Sydney to Girls Group: Girl shut up and just do it, I promise you, you’ll have the time of your life. It’s not awkward, he’s not rough, he’s not a dirty talker, he cares about his clients. 

“Number 12.” A husky voice from the door calls and your body shakes, looking down at the small square of paper and flickering your eyes back up to look at the face of the voice. The receptionist gives you a number when you arrive for client confidentiality and no one else in the waiting room will know your name, which helps cure your nerves and embarrassment a little bit. 

For a second you lose your voice, you feel breathless. The man standing there, looking like a slice of heaven, a glow radiating from his beautiful skin. The tight black button-up he is wearing is clinging to his chiselled abs and the black leather trousers are held together with a Gucci belt which just makes him look 10x more delicious. You do not regret wearing the skimpy red dress that Sydney forced you to buy along with the matching lingerie set.

You stand up, smiling at the man, who is holding the door open for you, waiting for you to follow him.

After following him down the short corridor, you both turn him to the room that has his name in the door and you sit on the chair facing the leather one tucked under the dark oak desk, a large iMac sat on top of it. 

“So… Y/N.” Harry breathes out, sitting back on his leather desk chair and turning towards you. “S’nice to meet ye’.” He sticks out his rough palm. The accent. He has no right to sound and look that gorgeous.

You take his large hand into your small one, giving him a timid shake and friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“So, what brings ye’ to do solo sex therapy?”

Taking a deep breath, trying your hardest not to nervously play with your fingers, you instead play with your silver angel necklace that is hanging around your neck. Harry takes notice of it and licks his lips at the look of it. “So, I’ve not had an orgasm in like two years. The last time was when I was in a committed relationship so I don’t know if it’s the thought of commitment holding me back or if I’m stressed. I don’t know.” You shrug, feeling your cheeks begin to redden and your palms get a little sweaty.

Harry nods, listening to every word that you say, trying so hard to keep his focus on your eyes, but he can’t help but watch you play with that little necklace that lies just above your cleavage. He’s only been in the job for a year, deciding to use his degree and mix it with desire, becoming a sex therapist. In this whole year, Harry has been working here, he has never seen someone so gorgeous and has never been more thankful that this is a solo appointment and you aren’t tagging a clueless boyfriend along. All his mind is thinking right now is about how well he is going to treat you.

“Good sex is good sex,” Harry says point-blank, resisting the impulse to take you on his desk right then and there when you begin to play with the strap of your dress, pulling it up which only pushes your tits closer together. “The thought of commitment will never hold ye’ back from having an orgasm and sex s’supposed to be a stress reliever, so it’s sound like you’re being tense during sex and holding y’self back,” He explains, watching your eyes fall to look at the floor.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

He notices the small damper on your mood and clears his throat, shaking his head, looking towards his computer. “So ye’ tests came back all clear, I know Doctor Willis told ye’ the outline of things, but I’ll be telling ye’ what we will be doing today,” Harry says clicking around on his computer, trying to pull up your document.

As you let your eyes rise, they stop abruptly, noticing something that soaks the red lace hidden underneath your dress. He’s hard. A large tent beneath all that leather, it’s begging for attention. You are creating excuses in your head, positive that you aren’t the reason to cause that. You can’t be that cocky, it’s his job to get hard and fuck people.

“Normally we would start with foreplay, the foreplay s’mainly focussed on you and we don’t take part in any intercourse until y’are completely relaxed and comfortable. Some girls want to take it further.” His words completely drowned out in your ears, focussing on how gorgeous this work of art is which is right in front of you. Yet he continues to stare at his computer, not acknowledging how zoned out you are. “Everything will be protected and safe, the safe word is ‘book’”

Harry finally turns to you, pushing his chair away from his desk and leaning back a little. “Are you ready t’start?” He asks, noticing your eyes quickly move from his crotch to his pair of golden orbs.

You just can’t resist him, leaning over from your uncomfortable seat, to reach out for the prominent bulge. Once your hand touches him, there is no denying that he’s huge, even the thick material that is straining him is struggling to hold him back. 

Harry looks down at your hand and tries his hardest not to let out a single sound. He’s so hard because of you, he wants to drop down at his knees and worship you. He doesn’t know what friend recommended you, but he wants to worship them too for sending such an angel to him. He can’t give in though, the contract he signed when in this job is that he solely can’t use clients for his pleasure. 

“M’sorry Y/N, but this isn’t what we do here,” Harry informs you, the last word of his sentence weak and coming out as a satisfied sigh. 

“But it’s what I would like,” You reply, a smug look on your face. He inhales deeply to speak again, however you quickly interrupt. “You said you want your client to be relaxed and comfortable.” You remind him. “And nothing would relax me more than sucking your cock… Mr Styles.” 

He can’t help but give in, now you’re groping his cock and he doesn’t even realise that his hands are gripping his belt to tug it off. He wants you so bad, is it bad to want you? This isn’t professional, but he’s never throbbed this hard for someone. “For fucks sake, fine do it. But y’better do it like ye’ life depends on it,” He demands, sliding out his belt from his belt loops.

You are quick to slide off the chair onto your exposed knees, hands flying for his zipper to pull down his pants and expose his tattooed thigh. “Tattoos,” you tut, teasingly tracing your nail over the outlines. You noticed the couple in his hands too and he takes the opportunity to push up his sleeves and show off his inked skin. “Not very professional of you Mr Styles.” You tease, lips kissing up to his inner thighs.

He’s growing impatient and these teasing touches and tormenting words, they’re pushing him to the edge. “Put me in your mouth before I fuck it m’self.” He sighs, watching you pull down his boxers, with the help of him lifting his hips so you can watch his cock hit his covered abdomen.

You took a second to admire him. You knew he was big by the size of him just in his pants, but he looks like a whole meal that you want to devour right now. He’s thick and tall and has a long vein running along the side of him and you can see it pulsing, waiting for some desperate attention.

Inching closer to him, you let your hand wrap around his stiff length to hold it still as your tongue ran along that throbbing vein, receiving a heavenly grumble, deep within his chest. 

“Y’gonna play with it or actually do something?” He challenges, getting frustrated with your actions. 

Instead of smart-mouthing, you decide to swirl your tongue around his leaking tip, pulling back to watch a bead of cum slip out his slip and run down his length, which your tongue does not hesitate to swoop into your mouth, tasting the sweet but salty divine taste against your taste buds. 

Harry can’t take it anymore. “Okay, since ye’ want to be a brat,” he mutters out through his clenched teeth, wrapping your hair around his hand. “I’ll treat ye’ like a brat.” He adds on, his spare hand coming down to slap your cheek lightly indicating for you to open your mouth, which you obliged, not expecting him to push you down onto his cock, your mouth engulfing half of him and already gagging around him.

Something about him calling you that and the aggressive tone in his voice soaks you completely, even more than you already were. You felt the need to sneak your hand down and give attention to your throbbing clit, but once Harry starts to create a rough rhythm, fucking himself into your face, you instantly snap back into action.

“Oh fuck- you like that, don’t you? You fucking love it.” Harry’s voice is a raspy whisper and it sends shivers down your spine, creating goosebumps to rise on your skin.

Nodding slightly, you meet his thrusts into your mouth, supporting his pulls on your hair, by helping him create a rhythm. There’s spit everywhere, mixing with pre-cum and you can hear the wet sounds bouncing off the white boring walls along with the sounds of his moans and your loud gags.

Harry is in complete bliss. He’s always been so used to clean and precise head, which has always made him finish, but nothing has ever made him feel this way. Messy, sloppy, careless. He’s in love with it, he’s never felt his balls tighten so fast and his hips begin to falter so quickly. He’s not supposed to use clients for his own pleasure, he’s even advised to try his hardest not cum, even when using a condom, which his contract orders him to always do. And that promise he made to his boss, the contract he signed with this company is running through his mind, adding on to the pressure that is building up in his stomach.

Harry pulls back on your hair, trying to slip your mouth off his slick cock, but you instantly retract back, wanting more of him. “Get off,” he grunts, pulling at your hair a little harder, which makes you finally pull back.

You send him a soft pout, cock still held in your soft palm, mouth dividing the attention between each of his balls, innocent eyes looking up at him.

He notices the mascara that is starting to run underneath your watery eyes, begging for attention. He knows he’s done for when he looks down at you through hooded eyes, moans, and groans leaving his lips and mouth desperately wanting to cum in that smart ass mouth, but knowing he can’t. He’s about to burst any second… ‘It won’t be so bad if I cum on her face’ Harry begins to tell himself, so wanting to cover you up with his cum. How bad he wants to fill up all your holes should be illegal. Every single hole. Over and over and over again.

However, you aren’t thinking the same, you want more. You’ve already tasted him the slightest bit, but you want to taste him again, this time his whole load in your mouth. You quickly go back to sucking on the tip as your hand-worked against his entire cock.

This made Harry jolt up in panic and pleasure. His thighs begin to tremble and he feels his arms go numb and weak, unable to physically hold you back, even if he didn’t want to. “Y/N, you’ve- fuck! Fuckin’ ‘ell! Oh my god!” And that’s it. He makes the mess in your mouth, that he wanted so bad, but knows he shouldn’t.

You easily swallow him back, letting out a content sigh at the taste you have been craving for. You sit back on your calves, watching the man in front of you, lean over in his leather chair, placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, still panting heavily.

You teasingly chuckle, slipping your hands up his thighs. “I know I’m good but didn’t realise I was that good.”

At that moment, something snaps in Harry. He looks up from his hands, darkness, and lust in his green eyes as he stares you down. “You know what, I thought fucking that bratty mouth would shut you up.” He grabs onto your wrist pulling you onto your feet. “I guess I have to try another way.”

He quickly moves his hands to your waist to lift you onto his reasonably empty desk, the only things in the way is his computer and little pot of pens. 

“Cute little dress, did ye’ think you could seduce me in this?” He heaves, pulling it up to bunch at your waist.

Your breath hitches for a second when he begins to play with the soaking lace, his fingers inches away from your dripping pussy. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

Smack. A shot of pain shoots through your inner thigh, making you let out a small whimper, positive that your panties are completely soaked through. The sting is so pleasant and the slight burn of the cold metal from his collection of rings sends a shiver down your spine.

He slides off your underwear with one single finger, taking in how your pussy glistens under the bright white light in the room. You’re pretty sure you are so flooded that you are soaking through. Your thighs are sticky and your thighs are twitching, a sign that you need that attention from him.

His hand comes down to slap against your throbbing heat, clenching around nothing. “You’re a wet little thing, aren’t you princess.” He snickers, slapping you once more to receive another small whimper from you. 

He begins to slip off his rings, indicating that he’s going to finger the fuck out of you, starting with the one on his middle. But, you’re totally against that idea, so you are quick to stop him. “Please.” Your voice is small but demanding. “Keep them on.”

He obeys and slides it back on. “What do you want?” He asks, slowly shifting in his index finger, watching your face twist from need to thrill. “My fingers?” He asks, keeping his finger still, deep inside of you, feeling you clench around him, silently begging for more. “My tongue?” He asks again, crouching down and sticking out his tongue to give the attention that your clit is hungry for.

“Anything.” You breathe out. 

“Anything?” He replies, beginning to move his finger, creating a slow and steady rhythm. 

You nod eagerly, hands gripping onto his shoulders for some stability, but his other hand quickly grabs both of your wrists to fling them off him.

“Little sluts, don’t get to touch.” a smirk on his face, letting him slip his middle finger to speed up his pace, curling them up to hit all your sweet spots.

Heavy, hot breaths leave your moist lips, the occasional cry mixing in with them, wanting more from him every time he tickles against that place that makes you squirm. Needing more, your hand sneaks down your body to touch against your throbbing clit.

Once again, his hands resist yours, this time slapping them away. “They don’t touch what’s mine either.” He growls this time, hand moving faster, so fast he is moving your whole body with his hand too.

Your body begins to grind on his hand unintentionally trying to bring yourself closer to your orgasm, needing more from his fingers, but somehow he’s also giving so much. Never have you ever been this close to an orgasm. It’s so overwhelming that you begin to feel your arms go weak, turning into spaghetti. Your legs are beginning to shake and you notice that you’re so close to the edge. 

Harry is quick to notice the way your body is moving against his hand along with the way your arms are slowly dropping and legs are shaking, so he begins to create that steady, but a rough pace that he knows makes all his clients shake. 

It’s so wrong what Harry is feeling right now. His emotions are high and his head is spinning. He’s so unbelievably attracted to you that he has to double-check if you’re real by moving his fingers at an angle to reach the perfect spot that makes you scream. Yup, you’re real. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, you’re a client, and not only is his contract making him feel guilty so many other things are too, but he’s choosing to ignore them and deciding to watch you cum around his beefy fingers.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You scream out, not even bothering to try and keep it down, his fingers still slipping in out of you as your whole body shakes against him, head dropping down to rest on his shoulder, high-pitched whines leaving your lips as you grip onto his biceps.

He smirks, slowly pulling them out as you still tremble against him. “Two fingers and already got ye’ shaking for me.” He slips his fingers into his mouth, a pleasing moan leaving his mouth once he tastes you against his skin. A combination so heavenly it should be a sin. 

He crouches down eager to taste more of you, craving your delicacy. His tongue sticks out to lick up your wetness, trying to clean you up before you quickly jolt away, hand pushing his head away from you.

“That sensitive?” He asks, watching you nod in reply.

Your thighs have been clenched together for so long you have to check if they’re not glued together. Seeing stars is an understatement. You’re seeing the whole galaxy. Mind completely clouded and you’re positive you are never going to feel something like this ever again. That’s why you want more. Even though you’re so sensitive, you need more of him, you need to make the most of this.

“Still want your cock though.” You whimper, leaning forward to help him tug his shirt off, revealing his golden chest, symmetrical tattoos splattered across it.

He watches you begin to admire him in all his glory, once he completely pushes all his material of clothing far away from you both. “Sure ye’ can handle it?” He asks, proud of how much of a mess he has made you. 

It takes that for you to build up the energy to place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him to sit back on his leather chair. 

As soon as you slip that dress off that has been taunting Harry since he saw you in the waiting room, he was tempted to bend you over that desk and pound into you right there. He should be doing that. He should be taking control as the therapist. Why is he letting his client control him? He knows he’s fucked for you and it’s so wrong, although when you shimmy out of that little red lace, that is barely covering anything, he somehow persuades himself that it is so right.

Once you unhook your bra, throwing it across the room, you climb onto his lap, hands on his shoulders to keep yourself steady. “Your tattoos make you a lot sexier,” You state as you admire the art… on art.  

He chuckles, hands instantly finding your ass to help you grind on his hard cock. He’s never gotten so hard this quick, he’s just got a mind-blowing head and had one of the best orgasms he’s ever had, yet he’s hard again just from looking at you completely stripped of clothing. 

“There’s a lot of them,” You mumble, looking down at your wet core grinding against all the inkwork splattered over his thigh. “Can you tell me what all of them mean?” You ask, looking down at the wet streak you are leaving as you trail your fingertips across that bible tattoo on his arm. 

No one has ever found pleasure in grinding on his thigh before and he loves it, he knows you both don’t have much time to get yourself off like this, but he wants to watch you crumble all due to his thigh. 

“I guess we can do that on our date.” You say boldly, hand reaching down to grab his cock so you can line him up with your entrance, feeling your juices trickle down him at the slightest push.

You just asked him out on a date. Or told him you are going on a date with him. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, but for some reason, it makes him harder. Harder than he thought he ever could get. 

Big. That single word describes Harry. Everything about him is huge and that doesn’t exclude his dick. When you sink onto him, you can feel absolutely everything that makes your jaw drop and your body feel so small. You take him halfway and stop there, giving yourself some time to adjust to his thickness, his length, every single detail. 

Harry sits back, head tilting back at the feeling of you clenching around him with hard pants leaving your desperate lips. “C’mon, I know y’can take more than that, ye’ minx,” he mumbles, getting frustrated with waiting for you, just wanting to feel all of you. 

“Of course,” You smirk, trying to cover any expression of pleasure as you take all of him in, allowing him to let out a satisfied sigh. “Was just trying to feed your ego with your small dick.” You tease.

That’s it for Harry. He doesn’t know what flips the switch in him, he’s never been teased like this, never even been this rough with his clients either not with the people in his love life.  But there is something special about you that brings out this side of him. The side that makes his eyes darken and his jaw clench.  

His hand wraps around your throat, his grip so harsh that you nearly fall back, having to place your hands on his knees so you don’t fall off of him. “Fuckin’ brat.” He growls, starting to thrust up into you at a heavy and fast rhythm, not giving you any time to build the pace. “Remember why ye’ came here.” 

You can’t even focus on what he’s saying, your ears are ringing out with the sounds of your skin slapping with his, the sounds of your wetness slicking against his cock, the sounds of your loud moans, begs and pleads.

“Y’came here because ye’ fuckin’ wanted me. Say it, say ye’ wanted me.” He lifts his hips off the chair, his one hand that isn’t wrapped around your throat holding onto your waist so tight that he is sure his fingertips are leaving faint bruises. You stay silent, too overwhelmed with the way his tip is hitting your cervix, so deep he is ruining you. “Say it.” He near yells, slapping your ass to get your attention.

“YES! Yes Harry I wanted you so bad- please don’t stop! Please keep on fucking me, daddy.” You cry out. 

That name. God that name. It allows him to go harder, rougher, faster. His hand around your throat tightens too, slightly restricting your breathing, only making the pleasure that much more overwhelming. You’re grinding against him now, getting more friction.

“Y’like that, ye’ little slut, like being a brat for me, god, look at ye’. So desperate f’me.” he rambles out, between grunts and huffs with each thrust. 

His eyes lift from staring at the way he’s slipping in and out of your tight, restricting cunt to your body, noticing that familiar sight of your legs shaking and your body twitching. “Y’gonna cum around m’cock? Ye’ gonna cream around me, show me how much of a whore ye’ are for me.” He groans, watching your face contour into complete pleasure. 

Your moans turn into cries and your cries turn into screams of his name. There’s tears of ecstasy escaping from your eyes, your velvet walls clenching around him once you feel tour overwhelming orgasm take over your whole body. 

As you tremble, shake, and shudder, Harry watches you, mouth dropped open and no sound coming from your mouth. You have to pull yourself off of him, letting your peak hit. You don’t even notice that you are squirting all over him. His thighs, his cock, his chest, completely soaked from you. 

Harry is in awe, he can’t stop looking at you, he thinks he’s about to cum untouched. Just looking at you can make him explode. But he continues to slap his cock against your clit, only bringing you to slump forward completely blacking out.

Harry’s hands are on your back, keeping you stable trying to control the uncontrollable amount you’re jerking. He’s given many girls mind-blowing orgasms, but they have never reacted like this.

It takes a few moments for you to snap out of it and get back the slightest bit of your stamina, so determined to get him off. 

You reach down, grabbing his rock hard cock in your warm palm, stroking him against your soaking entrance which makes your thighs shake that once more. 

“Hey, you don’t need to- Ohhh fuck!” he moans out, once you push him into you, unintentionally letting out another eruption of your wetness. 

It takes that little push to tip Harry over the edge, feeling his balls tighten and his stomach begin to clench. And that’s when he realizes… he’s not wearing a condom. It’s too late for him to pull out, he can feel himself releasing inside of you, his warm load filling you up to the brim as he jerks and twitches inside of you.

“Fuck, get off.” he protests through his pants, cock still sensitive and throbbing, but he doesn’t know what to do. He’s so overwhelmed. 

He watches the way his cum drips out of you like sweet honey and he groans at himself, not knowing if he’s ashamed or proud. “I didn’t wear a condom,” he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s fine, I’m on the pill,” you reassure him, leaning down to kiss his neck, leaving a trail of kisses, wanting more from him. “Come on, want you in my ass Harry, want you-“

A ringing sound from his computer stops you, making you look up with a confused look. 

“Time’s up.” He mumbles, reaching out for the mouse to cancel the notification, giving you a slight nudge to tell you to get off of his lap. 

As he wiggles his mouse around, you notice something that makes your stomach turn. You were innocently admiring how beautiful his hands are, how his rings are so striking and intriguing, but one stands out. It’s placed directly on his ring finger, much more mundane than the rest and not as thrilling. Extremely similar to a wedding ring. 

Quickly, you get redressed, not caring how his cum was running down your thighs and trying so hard not to look at him redressing himself. 

“You can book yourself in for another appointment if y’would like.” He breaks the silence, concentrating on his hands that are trying to fix his shirt to cover his half-naked body.

“Are you married?” You ask, probably way too fast for him to understand, but the sex you two just had is not the type of sex a married man has with a random girl.

“Excuse me?” he turns to look at you, eyes stern as to tell you not to ask him something like. “I don’t see how that’s any of ye’ business.”

“The sex we just had, there was a connection there. You wanted to cum in me because you wanted to claim me, you were that rough-“

“That’s how I am with all m’clients, better orgasms.” He interrupts. Pathetic excuse but his straight face could convince anyone, but not you. 

You scoff. “My friend said you weren’t rough and you didn’t dirty talk, Harry you pounded me so hard you were in my fucking guts.” 

Those words make his cock twitch in his pants, how ironic since he is fumbling to buckle his belt, trying to completely ignore the effect your words have on him. 

“Are you married?” You ask again, this time a lot more clearer.

He lets out a large exhale, crossing his arms. “Yes, I am. But-“ Harry watches you turn on your heel, walking out of the door. “Y/N, wait c’mon!” Too late. You’ve already slammed the door behind you, leaving him to stand in the middle of the room feeling all types of emotions. 

He fixes his clothes, brushing himself down and trying his hardest to push his thoughts aside, looking through his lists of clients and time slots on the wall. Great. You were the last appointment, meaning he now has to go home and dwell on you. Probably have a cold shower and use his hand as a replica for your sweet pussy. 

After grabbing his phone and other things he needs, he begins to exit the building, saying goodbye to the odd member of staff standing around in the corridor. 

“See you later Harry.” One of the receptionists speaks up, watching him rushing to the door.

He stops, turning to her with a false smile on his face. “See you later, Julia. Say hi to the husband f’me, will ye’?” Harry bids her a farewell, also referring to her husband who he also is good friends with. 

“And say hi to your wife from me,” Harry gives her a tight-lipped smile, cringing at the thought. “Still can’t believe she’s pregnant, she’s already got that glow.” She adds on. 

“Yeah, either can I.”

[wannabemurdock]

masterlist

Omg I can’t believe there’s 1000 of you! I love y’all so much! I never thought that this would happen and I’m so grateful for all of you!

I want you guys to get to know me a bit so inbox any questions you have for me!

For the celebration, I’ll be doing a smut ask game. Under the cut there’s a bunch of smut prompts, so send through a number and any character and I’ll write a short blurb and will probably include a p link! Try and send just one number per ask xx

I’m so excited for your asks!

I’ll be closing the celebration whenever I get through all of the prompts

Mutual tags 💕: @deceitfuldevil @foggywells @bunnywritesmarvel @phuckinphia @itssiriusdarling-1917 (I love y’all so much)

Smut prompts:

Already claimed, need to write

“Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

“Look at me. Now.”

“You know I hate it when you do that, right? Keep doing it.”

“You know how to make me cum, so do it already.

“Slap my ass again and I’ll make you fuck me in that closet.”

“That’s what I am, right? Your cock slut?”

“I’m really hard/wet and I’m gonna die if you don’t do something about it ASAP.”

“Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”

“Oh, the things I’d do to that pretty mouth.”

“I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.”

“Wow, you take cock like it’s your day job.”

“I’ve never cried during sex before, but I guess there’s a first for everything.”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you do that.”

“You’re a bad girl/boy but I love you so I’ll let you get away with it.”

“Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“Just for that, I’m gonna suck your clit ‘til you go blind.”

“I’m too busy.” “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“You’re going to get us arrested.” “Oh, I’ve always liked the idea of you in handcuffs.”

“Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

“There’s not enough makeup in the world to cover up this hickey, what did you do to me?”

“You’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are.”

“You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because I’m not stopping.”

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

“Spread your legs. I want to feel how turned on I made you.”

“You’re so turned on already? That was fast,”

“You look so beautiful tied up to my bed,”

“I want you to be rough with me, please leave marks on my skin,”

“Say my name,” “Louder,”

“Call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone like this,”

“No, I’m the one that’s supposed to be making you feel good,”

“I love hearing you moan,”

“Sorry, did that hurt?” “No, I’m just a little sore from last night.”

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

“I’m not wearing any panties,”

“I want to kiss every inch of your body before I fuck you,”

“I don’t have the patience to remove your clothes right now,”

“I can’t wait until we’re alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“I love how your body loses control when you cum.”

“Are you trying to turn me on right now? Because it’s working.”

“I’d hold on to something if I were you.”

“It seems you forgot to wear any underwear tonight.”

“Wanna taste?”

“You’re really going to make me beg for it?”

“Are you going to eye fuck me all night or are you going to do something about it?”

“You’re so sexy when you’re all hot and bothered.”

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make.”

“Please. I need you. Now.”

“Get on your knees.”

“This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

“Is there anything you can’t do with that tongue?”

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?”

“If you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning?”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

“I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.“

“You make a sound and it’s game over baby.”

“If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

“Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that, darling.”

“The things that I want to do to you, baby.”

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

“I want to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.”

“I may or may not have left some….marks.”

“I think we were a little too loud last night.”

“Really? You wanna have sex….here? Now?”

“do you like that? like being in control?”

“Don’t make me take you home and punish you.”

“Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

“You’re in trouble now.”

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

“I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.”

“Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Bite me.”

“Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

“You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?”

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

“If i have to stop what i’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet.”

“Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, i was just..” “Want some help?”

“I’m not jealous! it’s just…you’re mine!”

“If we get caught i’m blaming you.”

“We have to be quiet.”

“You have no idea how much i want you.”

“You better shut that pretty little mouth before i put it to work, love.”

“How quickly can you cum?”

“Don’t ruin the sofa.” “Ill just have to cum inside you then.”

“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg.”

“You cant tease me like that and expect not to be punished.”

“You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later?”

“Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”

“You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

“If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”

“I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

“Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.”

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

“Did I stutter? Do as you’re told!”

“I can’t wait to be on my knees for you later.”

“Maybe if I punish you it’ll help you remember who you belong to next time.”

“Do you want it on your back or would you like to be on your stomach?”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth.”

“You keep acting like a little brat and I’ll take you over my knee right here, I don’t care how many people are watching.”

“When we get home I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.”

“You look so good on your knees like that.”

“Are you going to be good from now on?”

“I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.”

“Open your mouth.”

“If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home I’m going to bend you over that bed.”

“Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you?”

“Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing.”

“It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.”

“I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.”

“Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

[cursestothemoon]

yay for the open requests! I really reallyyyyyy love your Harry's older sister hc, could u pretty pls do more? like their brief life as a family with lily and james, then to the dursleys and then at war, so on. I agree with the anon that did the request, harry does needed a bigger sister❤️

aH I LOVED THESE REQUESTS

YOU GUYS CAN READ THE HEADCANONS THIS ANON IS TALKING ABOUT HERE

ok so this is L O N G i need to add a keep reading tab

alright so let's talk about harry's older sister

so lily and james did not plan you

they were straight out of hogwarts

just having fun

and suddenly lily is having morning sickness and james running into a store to buy a pregnancy test (or whatever the wizard equivalent would be 😗)

james would be so nervous the weeks leading up to your birth

he already knows that you aren't even here yet and there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you

and when you are born

he swears he'd never love anything as much as he loves you

his little girl

this sweet little lump of baby fat that was born with eyes just like his

he'd put his glasses on your little baby face, and he could laugh for hours at the way they just barely sat on your little nose (a miniature version of his)

your chubby little baby hands are his favorite

when you'd plan your hands on his face or wrap your hand around his finger he'd melt

Lily would joke all the time about how she carried the baby yet James is constantly hogging her

I think james would have some serious separation anxiety

Lily would also have trouble leaving you to go do something but she knew that you getting to see other people would be good

james is NOT a fan

and you were a big daddy's girl

"it's going to be alright, darling, uncle Padfoot and uncle Moony will take care of you."

and you'd respond with sad baby talk, something along the lines of 'daddy' and 'wanna stay with you' and you'd get all teary eyed

it's a whole dramatic scene

youre crying

james is about to cry

Sirius is quite literally trying to sob silently into his hand because you just look so sAD

and remus and lily are just

😐

because you guys do this eVERY TIME

there was one time james got back into the car with lily after dropping you off and he was unusually quiet until he kinda just whispered out

"It just feels like i'll never have enough time with her, like one day i'll wake up and suddenly she's not mine anymore."

his tone gave Lily the worst chills, his tone and the fact that she felt the same though never voiced it

honestly

i don't think harry was planned either

he kinda just happened

and they were like

you know what, yes.

so you were two when harry was born

and you LOVED your baby brother

he was so small

so cute

and he had your mum's green eyes

from the get go you were very protective of your little brother

james thought it was the cutest thing

ok ive been avoiding it

but we need to talk about October 31 1981

you were upstairs with our mum and harry

james was downstairs cleaning up from dinner

that was when there was a knock on the door

assuming it was peter, uncle wormtail, james was quick to go open the door

grabbing his wand for protection was the last thing on his mind

the thud of his body was loud

he was killed before he could even open his mouth to warn Lily

the door to Harry's nursery flew open and it all happened so fast

there was screaming

bargaining

a sudden flash fo green before Voldemort turned to harry

his cold, pale hand pushed you out of his way

the prophecy had said nothing about you, so he didn't care for what happened to you he just needed to kill harry

which obviously backfired

half the house was blown up

he was gone

harry was crying

and you just wanted your dad

you found your way downstairs, just barely making it down the steps

lily and james had never let you go up or down the steps on your own

only to come face to face with your dad just lying on the ground motionless

his eyes were still open

now i want you guys to think of the lion king

you know the scene where simba finds mufasa's dead body and just lays with it because he doesn't know where else to go

you just wanted any kind of comfort you could find

so with tear streaks going down your face you slayed next to your dad, getting as close as you could, hoping he'd just wake up

sirius is the one who finds you, asleep next to james' body

it was rather rough for sirius

and he could hear harry crying somewhere upstairs

you wake up to uncle padfoot trying to keep in his tears as he takes in the scene before him

you're just glad to see a familiar face

you run over to him, tears freshly falling as you wail about how daddy and mommy won't wake up

you also gently pull james' glasses off his face and keeping them in your small hand

keeping them safe for him later

you knew he didn't like to sleep with his glasses on

eventually hagrid shows up

you guys know the story

but i will say

it takes a lot for you to leave uncle pads and go with this big strange man

youre basically heaving as you beg to stay with sirius

and forcing you off his hip and onto the bike with hagrid was the worst thing he's ever had to do

even for a two year old, youre eyes held such a strong emotion of betrayal

sirius would never forget it

the dursley's were not fond of you and harry

you had james temper and stubbornness

harry was just a 6 month old baby

doing 6 month old baby things

for the first month you'd ask for james, lily, uncle moony, uncle padfoot, even uncle wormtail on a daily basis

until one day petunia just snapped

you had asked about sirius, or as you called him uncle padfoot, and petunia lost it

she started to shout, her hand coming out to strike your cheek as she told you that no one was coming

not now

not ever

you never asked after that

over time you forgot about sirius and remus and peter

you forgot about the song your dad would sing every saturday morning when making breakfast

or the way your mom would hum when she brushed your hair

all lily and james had become were familiar scents and the same pair of eyes you'd see in your dreams (though for a long time you just assumed they were your eyes, they looked enough like yours)

and you grew up always feeling like you were on the wrong side of a billowing curtain

you and harry grew up only having each other

you were very protective of him

and dudley hated it

because you had James art for pranks

and his art for rarely getting caught

unfortunately for you petunia and vernon didn't need evidence to incriminate you

you were often on the receiving end of disciplinary swats and missed meals

and you'd often take harry's punishments for him

you and harry were also forced to share a room

or cupboard

you let him decorate it with all his things (he didn't have many)

and you guys shared a bed up until you got your hogwarts letter

which that was kept very quiet

you got the letter

and petunia and vernon were just glad to be able to send you and your pranks away

you weren't allowed to tell harry

but you did anyway

secretly

you didn't tell him all the details but you told him that you were going to a school far away and you'd be back whenever aunt petunia let you back

going to school was interesting

you didn't know anyone

bUT HAGRID WAS ALSO THERE TO HELP YOU AND BUY YOU YOURE STUFF AND HE BOUGHT YOU YOUR FIRST WAND

you still have james' glasses

you put them on when youre nervous

so youre sitting in the train

first day

you don't know anyone

big round glasses sitting on your nose as you look out the window barely able to see what's going on

james was as blind as a bat

on the train you spend your time reading your new books

absorbing all the material

you were not going to just walk into this new school of mAGIC not knowing aNYTHING

by the time you got there you were at leas base level with most subjects

some were easier to catch onto than others

as long as you didn't let the logical side of your brain do too much work

within the first week you'd find out about your parents

curtesy of older gryffindor kids who knew your last name and were just amazed by the story

oH ALSO YOURE IN GRYFFINDOR

AND WHEN MCGONAGALL READS YOUR NAME SHE GASPS TO HERSELF

BECAUSE

Y/N POTTER

she remembers when james had written to her with the news of Lily's pregnancy with you

and how he was nervous you'd come out just like him and he wouldn't be able to handle you as well as she had, he was asking her for advice

and when you walked up to sit on the chair she nearly dropped her scroll of parchment and pulled you into a hug

you looked just like him

dark hair

pale skin

same eyes and eye shape

and same habit of picking at the skin around your thumb nail when nervous

the hat announcing you were a gryffindor was very overwhelming for her

then she realizes you

are e x a c t l y

like james

and merlin is she tiRED OF THIS SHIT

ok so at this point i am going to direct you to the other headcanon (linked above) if you want a more fred x reader approach 

continue here if not

so youre on the quidditch team

and youre a natural 

let me tell you

you just have the innate ability 

much like james

and at first they had you as a seeker

and you were good

but you excelled as a chaser 

i also firmly believed that there was a practice broom that james had carved his name into

or maybe just a ‘J.P.’

that was the broom you'd practice on

even use for games before you got your own broom

ok so

let’s talk your relationship with harry 

you made sure you were the one to tell him what happened to your parents

as i said it was your first year when you fond out about what happened 

the gryffindor student had told you what they knew

and you went to professor mcgonagall pretty distraught 

you were near tears as you practically begged her to just tell you what happened, you wanted the truth 

because all your life your aunt and uncle had told you that your parents had been killed in a car accident 

needless to say 

you didn't want harry to find out that way

but you also knew he was noticing the stares

the whispers

so you told him on the first night

he had already been put into gryffindor and was getting ready for bed when you are up to his dorm 

bECAUSE IT’S CANON THAT GIRLS CAN GO UP INTO THE BOYS DORMS AND BOYS CANT GO UP INTO THE GIRLS DORMS AND I WILL CITE THE PARAGRAPH IF ANYONE NEEDS

and you kinda push out ron, neville, and dean 

but yeah thats how he finds out all the details and such 

ok so you and harry are sUPER CLOSE

and you are very 

v e r y

protective of harry 

you'd do anything for the kid 

wHEN YOU FIND OUT ABOUT THE WHOLE SORCERER’S STONE FIASCO 

YOU ARE LIVID

because harry is your baby brother and you love him so much and don't like seeing him hurt 🥺

as harry grows older he gets a bit more

embarrassed 

about having you protective over him

and im pretty sure i mentioned this in the last headcanon post 

but yeah he’d be like 14 and you'd be 17 and he'd just

“stOP this is so emBARRASSING”

what a little dweeb

ok leTS TALK ABOUT SIRIUS 

BECAUSE YOU AND SIRIUS WERE CLOSE WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER

HE WAS UNCLE PADFOOT

YOU LOVED HIM

until your fifth year (harry’ third) when you were told he betrayed your parents and got them killed 

youre in the whomping willow when with harry, hermione, and ron 

its a lot for both of you

because sirius is seeing his goddaughter who looks just like james, and his the same fire in her eyes as his bestrfriend

his b r o t h e r 

and youre seeing the man who was responsible for your parents murder 

again 

it was A LOT

i have a feeling you, JAMES POTTERS DAUGHTER, would just lunge at him 

and youre crying

trying to hit him

hurt him like he hurt you

just anything to bring pain upon this man

and sirius is having flashbacks of when you had ran to him from next to james’ lifeless body 

and how different everything had been just days prior to October 31 1981

upon finding out the truth 

scammers is now wormtail

peter ‘little bitch ass’ pettigrew

you and harry are immediately forming this connection

this sort of dependency on sirius 

within a few minutes

because he is the only living connection you have to your dad 

apart from yourselves of course

but eh was the only reminder that james potter was a real man 

and lily potter did exist 

and there was a time where your family was complete 

it never crossed your mind that any more misfortune could strike 

not now 

not when you finally got back your uncle pads

and then you guys walk into the moonlight, the full moon light

everything flips instantly 

you guys are back to square one 

i like to think you have a very big part in getting sirius free 

so you guys know what happen in between prisoner of azkaban and order of the phoenix 

and this headcanon is already getting very long and we haven't even gotten to the wAR YET 

so we are doing a little time jump

order of the phoenix 

your last year

you are living with sirius in grimmauld place 

petunia and vernon kicked you out once you turned 17 after finding out that was the legal age in the wizarding world

you and sirius are close 

super close

i mean he is like a father figure to you

he is uncle pads again

oOO AND OK 

SO 

AFTER FINDING OUT HIS DAD AND HIS BROS 😤

WERE ALL UNREGISTERED ANIMAGI 

OBVIOUSLY YOU WANTED TO BE ONE TOO 

youre a gazelle 

it just makes sense

father figure sirius is not happy when he finds out

uncle pads, however, couldn't be happier

its finally starting to feel like a family again

you and harry have sirius 

aLSO REMUS

icon

anyway

everything is falling into place

you and harry are filling the james sized hole in Sirius’ heart (not completely but it’s better)

and he is doing the same for you two

you and harry love your uncle pads

then the battle in the department of mysteries happens 

youre there

you see it 

you watch as bellatrix hits sirius with a curse 

youre not sure which 

nothing too serious you hope, and seeing that he’s still standing he should be fine 

but then he stumbles

she's stunned him perhaps 

and he makes eye contact with you

there was a look so final, so sad

yet so relieved in his eyes as you watched him fall through the veil

remus grabbed harry

tonks held you

if she hadn’t been you knew you would've thrown yourself into the veil after him

its a whirlwind from then on let me tell you

so we know what happens

all that fun stuff 

the war hits

harry, hermione, and ron leave

youre left with the weasley’s 

it’s hard being away from harry

not knowing if he was ok

if he was even alive 

you guys finally reunite at shell cottage 

bill calls you the second he sees harry, hermione, ron, and dobby apparate in front of his house

you were quick to pull harry into a bone crushing hug 

keen on never letting go 

because after all he is still (and always will be) your baby brother 

you guys are all at the battle of hogwarts

oK WAIT

SO

YOU REFUSE TO LET HARRY WALK TO HIS DEATH ALONE

ALSO YOUVE FIGURED WHAT HE PLANS ON DOING BUT NEITHER OF YOU HAVE SAID ANYTHING

NOT WANTING TO ACCEPT THAT THIS COULD BE THE LAST TIME YOU GUYS SEE EACH OTHER 

AND THE RESURRECTION STONE COMES OUT 

BOTH YOU AND HARRY ARE HOLDING ONTO IT 

AND SUDDENLY

SIRIUS 

REMUS 

THERE ALL THERE 

EVEN A WOMAN WITH RED HAIR 

AND A MAN WHO LOOKS PAINFULLY FAMILIAR 

ok so hear me out 

i think harry enjoyed looking at pictures of james and lily

but you didnt

you didnt want to see everything that was taken from you

so you weren’t super aware of what your dad actually looked like seeing as you avoided pictures of him and your mom like the plague 

but you just knew 

and james was standing there

beaming

and he just looked so proud of you and harry 

so did lily 

she was the first one to say something 

“Your father and I are so proud of the both of you”

and you just broke down 

james right there with you 

he watched as you sobbed, choking on your cries 

and he couldn’t do anything about it 

he couldn’t hold you or comfort you

he couldn’t be a dad 

and it broke him

as much as it could break a dead man 

“you’ve grown so beautiful, darling” he'd smile sadly

his voice seemed to bring back all of your memories once lost 

“have you always been here, with us?”

“always.”

“typical, your father shows up and everyone forgets about uncle padfoot”

both you and harry laugh at that 

but the mood was somber 

harry then speaks up

“does it hurt?”

it was the first time either of you had confirmed that you both knew what was going to happen 

“dying? not at all, quicker than falling asleep.”

“will you stay with me?”

“until the very end. 

james is the one who answers, looking teary eyes at his son

and you know you cant go any further 

harry has to do this alone 

its quite symbolic actually 

the one time you'd let go of the reigns 

removed the protective arms you had around your baby brother 

he’d die 

but you had to do it 

so everything goes as planned 

harry dies

comes back

we love a resurrecting king 

and the war ends 

when you got back home from the war 

let’s say you are still living at grimmauld place seeing as it was left to you 

the first thing you do is go through old photos with harry 

any and everything you can get your hands on 

you see your mother’s sparkling green eyes

the same eyes your brother had 

and your father’s unruly mop of curls 

the same wave pattern in your dark hair 

everything finally felt right 

tags:

@pogueslandia

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@fullofsourgrapes

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[amjustagirl]

CHAPTER 1 - TAKING FLIGHT

Fic Summary:

The sky Oikawa Tooru’s heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in. You are a fool to trust him with your heart anyway.

Where Oikawa Tooru does not make it to Argentina straightaway.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Icarus, Icarus, I must be blind not to see you long to touch the sun.

Updates every Monday

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x you, Oikawa Tooru x fem! reader

Genre / Wordcount : Angst (5.6k words)

Warnings: One non-explicit bedroom scene

Masterlist link here!

Join my tag list here!

“Home sweet home ”, Tooru declares grandly, throwing his hands out with the air of a conqueror bursting with pride at the sight of his domain. 

Never mind the fact that the apartment looks like it’s been hit by a tsunami of cardboard boxes and scattered bits of furniture. Or the fact that you’re covered in sweat and grime from lifting boxes and shifting furniture and you’d very much like to lie down and not get up for the next week or two, but you can’t because of the never ending list of things to be done - unpacking your belongings, filling in your enrolment paperwork, attending medical school orientation to attend. 

But his words wash away the tide of anxiety lapping at the edges of your mind. 

Tooru wept and gnashed his teeth when his parents refused to let him chase his dreams to Argentina, and not a single professional team in Japan even looked his way. Don’t be ridiculous, his parents told him with wagging fingers, especially when Chuo University sent a full scholarship his way. 

“It is the top school for volleyball” you pointed out, as he spent yet another hour lying flat on his back, eyes swollen from spent tears. “You could go there and grab everyone’s attention by being their starting setter for the next four years.”

He does not respond. You wonder if he’s waiting for the paint on the ceiling to crack. 

“Plus” you add slyly. “I’ll be at Chuo with you.” 

This catches his attention. “What d’you mean”, he mumbles, throat still sandy with salt. 

“I got into medical school there”, you tell him  ,  the smile on your face growing when he finally hurls himself bodily at you, both of you toppling off the bed and onto the floor. 

“You’ll be there with me?” he whispers in disbelief. 

You laugh wetly into the crook of his neck. “Every step of the way”, you declare, slipping your hand into his. 

You’ve both transplanted yourselves from your childhood home in Sendai to a tiny apartment in Tokyo, a veritable hole in paper thin walls. Your hearth is a pair of rusty iron hobs, and your bed is a cheap mattress on the floor, but sunshine spills in from the windows like liquid gold and Oikawa Tooru’s hand is warm in yours. 

You wonder what you’ve done in your past life for the gods to smile down on you, to bless you with a boy you love in a place you can both call  home .

You’re not usually this sentimental, but just this once, you tug him down towards you, stealing a kiss from him. “I like the sound of that”, you murmur against his lips. “Our home, Tooru”. 

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “Do you love me?” he asks, with a smile that cages your beating heart in his calloused hands. 

You are young. You are eighteen. You know nothing of the world. You know nothing of life. 

So you reply - “More than life itself”. 

He kisses you with languid ease, stealing the very breath from your chest. You tell yourself you have four years to work up the courage to ask if he loves you as much in return. 

“Medical supplies are expensive, so stop coming here to ask for cold presses that you don’t need”, you tell Oikawa Tooru, Captain of the Volleyball Club and currently a veritable pain in your ass for constantly hounding you during your shifts at the school’s sickbay. 

You resist the urge to sigh when he throws himself onto the cot, groaning dramatically - “How mean! You and Iwa-chan are the same - brutes, all of you! What’s a guy gotta do to get some tender love and care, especially when he’s injured?”

You cast a doubtful eye at the bandage over his right knee. “Iwaizumi said you recovered, but I guess if you’re really still injured…”

Oikawa grins, sensing victory in sight. “So you’ll give me a cold press and let me rest here during class?” 

You drop said cold press onto his knee none too gently. “Sure - though..” your voice trails off, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “That would mean you’re not cleared for practice. I’ll send a note to your coach.”

Gotcha. 

It’s your turn to grin when alarm dawns on Oikawa’s face, his eyebrows pinching together as he waves his hands at you, pleading you not to mention a word to his coach - pretty please with a cherry on top, he forgot to do his homework cos he was staying up late to watch volleyball videos last night and needs a place to hide, and you’re the kindest, bestest, person on earth if you let it slide this time, his knee is fine, just fine - 

You glare at him, unimpressed. 

He pouts, with the largest puppy dog eyes he can muster. Even you are not immune to his charms. 

“Fine”, you say flatly. “Just once.” 

He thanks you, promising never to darken the doors of the sickbay again without cause. 

Of course, he breaks his promise the very next day when he sidles in just before practice, dropping a milk carton and a bun on your table.

“An offering to the maiden of this shrine” he answers teasingly in response to the question in your furrowed brow, trying his best to exude arrogance and saunter off, though his efforts are defeated by the pink tint to the apples of his cheek. 

Oikawa Tooru, huh. You wonder. 

You and Tooru are drawn into the ebb and flow of university life. You wake up with him by your side each morning, kiss him on the cheek before you both head your separate ways. In a fit of fancy, you imagine that your front door is the portal to different worlds - a little like the enchanted door in Howl’s Moving Castle, a movie Tooru used to make you watch with him on repeat. When you step through it, you find yourself in the humdrum world of medical school - anatomy classes, stuffy professors, scalpels and knives. Whereas when Tooru steps through it - like the titular wizard, he bursts like a fiery comet into a wholly separate, magical world of whistles and drills and volleyball practices. 

Your worlds never collide in the day, even though from time to time, you sneak into the gym to watch him practice, unbeknownst to him. Typically, you only see him at night. Dinners are prepared together, shoulders jostling over the kitchen counter to cook rice and produce sourced from the supermarket’s discount bin, before you both huddle over homework. More often than not though, Tooru prefers to spend all his time crouched over his laptop, earbuds on, watching endless streams of volleyball matches. 

“Aren’t you ever tired of volleyball?” you ask when you see him analyse yet another video - Argentina versus Japan this time. 

You already know the answer before your question leaves your tongue but you ask it anyway, amused when he squawks in indignation and knocks over your cup of tea in his hurry to exclaim -  Sick of volleyball? Him, Oikawa Tooru? Never! 

Of course, you knew that. Chuo University is the top collegiate team for volleyball, so the coaches demand nothing but the best from their players. You watch by the sidelines as Tooru grinds his body into dust at volleyball practice, coming home every night with sore tendons and aching bones. Balancing a full business course load on top of that would stretch anyone to their breaking point. 

Anyone normal that is, because Tooru revels in his hectic schedule. 

You attend his first match and you’re blown away by how much he’s grown from being transplanted from barren soil into rich earth. The unerring confidence he’s already shown in his high school days blossoms into an elegant ease. His athleticism grows by leaps and bounds, his game sense sharpens, his sets learn true grace.  

He claws his way to a starting position with bloodied fingernails, in blatant disregard of anything that might stand in his way. He builds his own wings, starts to take flight, the light in his eyes shining brighter and brighter the closer he flies towards the sun. 

He is no longer the simple school boy you fell in love with from Sendai. 

“Will you go out with me if I win our next match?” he asks suddenly, lifting his gaze from the video he’s watching from his usual corner in the sickbay. 

“Do I look like a prize for some school boy’s grudge match?” You snipe back, head bent over your homework. 

“It was worth a try”, he hrumphs. 

You hide a smile. 

“I would go out with you even if you lose”, you tell him, though you do not lift your eyes from paper and pen. 

A laugh bubbles from his chest - surprised, delighted, triumphant. 

“I better make sure I win then. So you don’t change your mind.” 

He did not win that game, losing spectacularly in the finals in his second year against his fated rival - Ushijima from Shiratorizawa, a specter that still looms unti over every match he plays in up to today. 

True to your word, you sat on his doorstep, waiting for him to return home red eyed, throat raw. You let him drop his aching head into your lap, and like a maiden comforting a weary warrior, you pressed a kiss to his forehead as a balm to his wounds. Then you dragged him by the hand to your favourite ramen stall, ordering two bowls of tonkatsu ramen, with char siu, bamboo shoots, spring onions and gyoza on the side. An inauspicious first date, but you consider yourself lucky nonetheless for having him beside you. 

Things are different now. You are blind not to see him long to touch the sun. 

No one is surprised when Chuo University wins nationals. The only surprise to the media (but certainly not to you or anyone from Miyagi for that matter), is that Chuo University brings home the trophy with Oikawa Tooru as it’s starting setter. 

The boy king finally reaches the national stage. 

Even then, he is always, always grasping for  more .

“You were amazing!” you gush, as he finally breaks through the triumphant huddle of his teammates to swing you into his arms and greet you with his customary kiss. “I’m so proud of you!” 

His eyes glitter as he laughs, giddy with delight, face flushed with pride. “It’s just college, princess. Wait til I go pro”. 

Like Ushijima, you think, though that name remains unsaid. 

Wax feathers had already started to sprout from the knobs of his spine back in high school, budding beneath your fingertips like a cancerous tumour. Back then it was easy to be wilfully blind to them, but now it's become too obvious to be ignored. Oikawa Tooru’s ambition lies spread eagled, naked beneath the blinding lights of the sports hall. He has only just tasted his first real victory, crossed the first hurdle separating him from his dreams of greatness. 

“I’m waiting for that day then”, you respond teasingly.

You only realise later that you lied. He's left the confines of your arms in his quest for the skies.

You laughed when Tooru first broached the idea of sneaking out at night to gaze at stars in the sky. ‘What nonsense’, you’d said. What are the chances of seeing stars amidst the light pollution from a city, even a relatively minor one like Sendai? 

“You’re being a meanie, just like Iwa-chan”, he pouted. He kept whining until you gave in. 

Tooru picks you up from your home past midnight, chuckling when you label his rusty bicycle ‘a contraption from hell’ and ask him archly whether he truly expects you to entrust your wellbeing to the tiny rack meant to function as the pillion’s seat. 

“Stop being a princess, it isn’t as if I can magick a seatbelt from thin air” he teases. 

“Howl could”, you point out. 

“Well, I could strap you on with my bicycle chain if you prefer”, he answers blithely. “Get on, stop complaining”. 

He pedals all the way uphill to the deserted park near school, whining all the way about the strain the extra weight (you) puts on his knees (lies, all of them). You’re torn between pointing out that he chose to drag you out in the middle of the night and kicking him off the bike and commandeering yourself home instead. You choose instead to slap the back of his head. 

“Ow!” he squeals. “Brute!” 

“Hmph”. You fold your arms in satisfaction. 

When he finally finds a spot perfect enough to commence his stargazing adventure, he stops the back, spreads a picnic mat and hands you a flask of hot tea. 

“I don’t see any stars”, you say, after fifteen minutes of sitting, stiff and cold in the dark. 

“Don’t be impatient! The clouds will clear up soon”, he says, squinting hopefully. 

The sky remains overcast. 

You sigh, the breath expelled from your nose forming your own personal cloud. You are accustomed to Tooru’s quirks, his all consuming passion for volleyball, his love for all things outer space. You decide to indulge him a little, just once. 

“Why don’t you pretend we can see the stars and tell me your favourite thing about each one?” 

He brightens up visibly. 

“You won’t be bored if I did that?”

You prod his nose, but your eyes are fond. “Have you ever bored me?”

His chest swells. “I suppose not”, he crows, and proceeds to trace the constellations with elegant fingers, spinning stories and conjuring random facts about celestial beings you cannot see. You find yourself enthralled, not by his words, but by the lilt in his voice and depth in his eyes. 

“Why d’you love the stars so much?” you ask.

“Did you not just hear anything I’ve just said?” his voice teeters dangerously close to a whine. 

You click your tongue against your teeth. “I mean – trivia and myths aside. Why are you so fascinated by what are essentially flaming balls of gas and light.”

“The shallow answer is cos they’re pretty.” He says, laughing airily, before turning his gaze to you, the stark intensity in his eyes causing goosebumps to prickle the back of your neck. “But if my lady here is searching for a deeper answer, well. Aren’t stars the ultimate embodiment of the dreams of all humankind? Even as we strive and fail towards our petty goals, the stars are always there to remind us to look up and reach for the sky”

You flick his forehead. “Pretty words, for a pretty boy”. 

“Hey!” He scowls indignantly before he perks up. “Wait - did you see that? There’s a star!” 

The sky clears just enough for a pale light to peer through a gauzy cloud. You do see it, and it is indeed beautiful, but your attention has already been captured by the boy beside you. And Tooru being Tooru, naturally notices. 

“Why’re you staring at me instead of the sky?” 

Perhaps you’re drunk on the magic of midnight skies, perhaps you want to uncover the mystery of his smile yourself. Perhaps that explains why your eyes soften and why your words fall short of a whisper. 

“Because you are my sun, my moon and all my stars”, you say. “I like you better than anything in the sky.”

His mouth slackens and for a moment, his eyes are tender before his laugh breaks your flight of whimsy, and you bury your face in your hands, hot with embarrassment. 

“Forget I ever said that”, you plead. 

“Never!” he cries. “I’m going to remind you how cheesy you can be for the rest of your life!”

You end up having to kiss him to shut him up. 

In his second year, Sakusa Kiyoomi joins his team. Tooru finally meets someone who meets his impossibly high standards to fill Iwaizumi’s place as his ace. 

He’s literally bouncing on balls of his feet when he comes home after the first practice. 

“He’s so prickly and unfriendly but his receiving his top notch, and his game sense is fantastic, and best of all the spin he gives to each spike makes me drool - especially when I see the look on the other side’s faces when they try receiving his ball for the first time - ha ha! ”, he talks at you at breakneck speed as you both prepare dinner, side by side at the cramped kitchen counter. 

“Mmhm”, you reply, head thinking of the multiple lectures you attended today, the homework and readings you must do tonight to stay abreast. 

“-it’s his wrists, they’re so flexible it nearly made me puke when I first saw him stretch them”, he continues for the rest of the night, heedless of your wavering attention. 

You meet Sakusa at one of the few team parties you actually attend. You nearly stumble over him when you try to hide in your usual corner with a plate of food in your hand, watching as Tooru flutters around like the social butterfly he is. His nose and mouth are hidden behind a face mask, but even you can tell he’s uncomfortable to be around so many people, so you tug at his jacket sleeve gently to lead him away from the crowd to a seat at the top of the stairs. 

You don’t expect him to speak much to you, if at all, but to your surprise, he initiates the conversation. 

“He doesn’t take good care of himself”, Sakusa mutters. You nearly miss his words over the pulsing beat of the music. 

“Who doesn’t?” you ask - though you already know who he’s referring to. 

“It’s unhealthy, the way you push yourself”, you tell Tooru, hands on hips, standing at the door to Aoba Johsai’s sports hall. You hardly intrude here onto Tooru’s sacred space, choosing instead to stay in the library to study until he’s done with practice and you can both walk home together. But practice has long ended, and your patience has run short - not to mention Iwaizumi popped his head into the library to shoot you a worried expression, dark eyebrows pinched into a pained frown. 

You are aware of Tooru’s predilection for working himself to the bone. Or to the shredded remnants of the tendon of his knee, to be more accurate. So you tap your feet, looking pointedly at said injury. 

“I’m fine”, he tries to dismiss you without even looking your way. 

You refuse to let him. 

“You’re not fine”, you tell him coolly, taking another step towards the inner sanctum, the volleyball courts. White lines, painted into brown wood. A single ball, six per side, each jostling for their pride and god.   

“Tooru -” 

“I need to practice so I can win”, he snarls, handsome face mangled by an angry scowl. “Don’t be like one of those whiny girlfriends, you know I can’t stand that.” 

You are not so easily hurt by the barbs in his words. “You can’t win if you’re injured”, you attempt to appeal to his reason. “You know and I know and your coach knows that that knee of yours is going to cause you problems if you don’t rest it properly. So you better listen to me, because so help me - I can tell you that you’re not going to be able to come for practice if you keep pushing yourself tonight”. 

His anger simmers into a sulk. “You’re not a doctor”, he replies, a petulant whine at the tail end of his words. 

“Not yet”, you respond, and at that, he laughs, surprised that your arrogance matches his own. 

Your attention snaps back to the present when Sakusa calls your name. “Sorry”, you breathe. “Couldn’t quite hear you - who were you referring to again?”  

“Oikawa”, Sakusa says, confirming your suspicions. “Practises even though I know his knee hurts sometimes”. 

You thank him for telling you before carefully diverting the conversation to something a little more innocuous, buying yourself time to turn this new information over in your mind. 

You hear him hiss as you open the front door- “Iwa-chan, don’t be stupid, I can’t tell her yet!” 

It’s not an uncommon sight to come home at night to find Tooru cradling his phone to his ear whilst juggling a book in his other hand. It is the only time slot that he and Iwaizumi have to catch up. 

Still, it is uncommon for him to bolt into the toilet the minute he catches sight of you. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask him over dinner. 

“Peachy”, he replies between spoonfuls of rice. “Never been better”. 

He promptly changes the topic after that. 

“Not staying home for dinner?” you ask, arms wrapped around yourself as he lets the chilly air into your apartment, sitting by the open door lacing his training shoes up. 

“Wanna work in some more practice tonight”, he murmurs, gaze still locked on his shoes. “Serves and all that. Don’t wait for me, yeah?” 

“Right. Just...promise me you’ll take care of yourself, Tooru”, you answer, unable to keep the disappointment from leaking into your voice. 

He stands up, turns to face you with a cheery smile. “Of course I will. Anyway, don’t pout, princess”, he sing songs gaily. “We’ll spend some time together after the season is over, I promise.”

“Alright”, you say, unconvinced, reluctantly tipping your chin up to let him kiss your cheek goodbye. 

“Tooru?” 

You feel the mattress dip. “Go back to sleep, princess”, he whispers, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. 

“Where are you going?” You mumble, squinting your eyes at the clock by the side of the bed. “It’s four in the morning. The earliest you wake up for practice is five.”

“I just wanted to practice my serves a little more.” You hear him rustle in the bathroom. Sakusa’s words echo in your ears, and you sit up, bleary eyed. 

“Tooru?” 

“Mm?”

“Are you taking care of your knee? And getting enough sleep?”

He stiffens. “Of course”, he replies with the tight, plastic smile he only ever gives you when he’s trying to lie. “Why’re you asking me this? Who put ideas in your pretty little head?”

For the first time in your relationship with Tooru, you take care not to accidentally tread on the faultlines of his heart.

“I worry about you”, you say, gripping your sheets as he frowns. “I don’t think you’re sleeping enough - judging from the bags under your eyes, and you shouldn’t be over practising because your knee could very act up - “

“Look - I don’t have time to deal with this” he interjects with a snap. “Just leave me alone and go back to sleep.” 

“I’m only saying this because I love you, Tooru.” You automatically tack on - “More than life itself.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing out a sigh. “I love you too ok? Stop worrying your pretty head about my health and my knee - we agreed you only get to nag me when you’re a full fledged doctor, remember?”, he adds, with a cheeky smile that does not reach his hooded eyes. 

You let him walk out of the house without another word, cotton sheets crumpling in your clenched fists. 

You don’t get to talk about it that night because he chatters at you about Sakusa’s tantrum during practice because someone hid his towel, and you can barely get a word in before he slips off to shower and sleep. 

He starts to disappear for days at a time, even after the season ends with him not only taking home his second trophy at Nationals, but crowned the best setter in the collegiate volleyball league. 

He tells you that there are overnight practice matches and camps. That he’s staying over at his teammates’ flats. You believe him at first. There is, after all, no reason for him to lie. 

Still, it is a little funny he refuses to allow you to do his laundry from those trips. You brush away your friends’ concerns that he’s cheating on you -  Tooru wouldn’t do that, you assure them with a wide smile that hurts your cheeks. 

Tooru would never lie to you. 

Then you bump into Sakusa Kiyoomi on campus when Tooru is away again. 

It’s night time. Shadows bleed into concrete roads. You’re on your way back home from hiding up in the library all day, reluctant to return to a home without Tooru when you bump into the reticent spiker. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be away at practice camp?” you ask innocently, worried that an injury might keep him from playing, though from a quick scan he seems to be fine. 

“Practice camp?” He echoes blankly, his face an open book of confusion. 

“Tooru mentioned that he’d be away from some practice camp for a few days...” 

Your words trail off. Your heart flutters, refuses to accept the truth staring you in the face. 

Sakusa frowns. His answer is brutal, direct. “There’s no training camp - hasn’t been in a while”. 

“Oh”, you murmur. 

Realization needles its way into the space beside your beating heart, drills its way into the marrows of your bones. 

“Are you ok?” You faintly hear Sakusa say. It’s your turn to lie. 

Tooru comes home the next day, a quarter past two. You’re sitting on the threadbare couch cross legged, a textbook balanced on your lap. 

“Where have you been?” 

“Practice camp. Didn’t I tell you that?” 

You scoff. The page held between your fingers starts to crumple. Your composure frays. 

“Really?” Your voice starts to veer into hysterics, straight across the highway into your emotional stratosphere. “Sakusa Kiyoomi told me that there’s no such practice camp, Oikawa. How about you try again with the truth this time.”

He reels back. You can see him trying to formulate yet another lie. 

“Princess”, he begins pleadingly, but your temper runs hot and you short circuit at the sound of your nickname from his lips.  

You stalk towards him, grabbing the bag in his hand. Like a woman possessed, you wrench the zip open, holding the bag open above your head, emptying its contents out. Dirty clothes, a deflated volleyball, toiletries spill onto the floor. You comb through each and every item in search of a telltale sign - a lipstick mark, a woman’s floral scent, something, anything for you to confirm his infidelity. 

What you find, however, is not what you expect. 

A red jersey, lying limp in your hands. A contrast to the university’s colours of navy and white.  

You flip it around. 

The words EJP Raijin are emblazoned across the jersey in stark white. 

You look up at him. He stares back. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

He has the decency to look away. 

“Tooru”, you repeat, voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“I was afraid of what it meant. For us”, he answers, dropping to his knees in front of you. “You know I’ve always wanted to go pro - and when the Div 1 teams started holding try-outs, I had to go. I tried out for them all except the Adlers, and EJP decided to give me a shot, which was like a dream come true… But I didn’t know if you would be happy if I did take it up.”

“Take what up?” you echo. Your mind is not keeping up with this turn of events. 

“Move to Hiroshima to join the team.” He answers warily, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. “You know I’d have to, right?” 

You look at him with fresh eyes, this boy you profess to love more than life itself. Wings spread from his shoulder blades, moulded by madness and greed from fire and wax. The reflection of the sun gleams in his eyes. He has left you permanently for the skies. 

“What about me?” Your breath stuck in your throat even as you refuse to relinquish the last hold you have on him.  

“If you love me”, he begins, reaching out to cup your cheeks and it’s your turn to reel back because you know he’s about to throw back your own words in your face. 

If you love me more than life itself - won’t you do this for me?  

But you are no longer eighteen. You are twenty one, on the cusp of adulthood. You know a little more about life than you did at eighteen.  

You know that your life is here - in Tokyo, among dusty books and lectures and tutorials on anatomy and diseases and germs, and you cannot upend your life and uproot yourself to Hiroshima just to follow someone else’s dreams. You love Tooru, but you do not share his dreams of glory and gold medals, of fleeting victory, of Olympian greatness. 

“I can’t”, you say, with a firmness that surprises even yourself. 

Again, he does not meet your eyes. 

“Then what shall we do?” He asks, lips pressed into a straight line. 

For a brief and terrible moment, you are tempted to throw your dignity to the wind, to fall on your knees and ask him to stay in Tokyo with you. But you can no longer turn a blind eye to what’s been staring you in the face for the entire length of your relationship, so you bite the insides of your cheek and grit your teeth. 

“We will do what we must”, you tell him, your head held high. 

You do not know what hurts more. The lack of pause in his acceptance to your suggestion that you break up, or the painfully obvious relief in his eyes. 

He goes to sleep in your shared bed, oblivious to your pain. You do not join him, choosing instead to spend hours seeking privacy in your toilet, knees aching from the cold floor. 

You are clinical, even in your anguish.  

Wring the liquid grief from your lungs, lay it on the floor to dry. Filter the water from your windpipe, the salt from your eyes. Your organs are scattered on the floor, battered, broken, torn. Save for your heart - you will need to retrieve it, whatever’s left of it at least. You last recall seeing it beneath Tooru’s feet, dashed to pieces as he spreads his wings and takes flight. 

You will put yourself back together with steady hands tomorrow, fill the cavity in your chest with the remnants of your organs, secure them in place with stitches and staples. Given time, you think your prognosis is good. 

You are young. You will heal. 

But now, you are allowed an hour or two to grieve at the very least. To mourn the loss of a relationship you still hold dear, a relationship that you only realise has an expiry date in the short span of a night. 

You are a fool for not realising it sooner. 

Perhaps he cares for you, but you must now confront the fact that you’ve been wilfully blind to. He could never give you his heart when he’s already given his heart up to someone else - to volleyball, a far more demanding mistress. 

You cannot compete with her. You should not have tried. 

Tooru files the paperwork to drop out of university. You find another flat, this time for one. 

In the weeks before he leaves, you watch him flit about the flat, buzzing with excitement like an overgrown child. His wings nearly suffocate you with its ever increasing breadth and length, but you do not begrudge his happiness. You still love him desperately. You still want what’s best for him.  

You write him meal plans, scribble reminders on the proper care for his knee. You help him label his boxes, arrange for them to be sent to Hiroshima via post. You do not tell him how tempted you are to slip yourself whole into one of them. But you start to build a cage for the remnants of your heart, turning a deaf ear even as it pounds against the bars of your ribs. 

The time finally comes for him to get on a train bound for Hiroshima. The time finally comes for you to leave the flat. 

“Princess”, he says softly, catching your elbow as you stand on the threshold, pulling you flush against his broad chest. You do not trust yourself to speak as he gently tilts your face up to his.

“Thank you”, he breathes against your lips. There is a lingering taste of regret in his kiss.

“For what?” you manage to ask. 

 His eyes pool with affection, swirl with sadness. 

“For everything.” He takes your hands in his, presses a final kiss to your forehead. Your traitorous heart screeches at you to beg him to say. You smother it beneath reinforced walls of steel and bone. 

Icarus, Icarus. This is goodbye. 

You make him leave before you, watching as he turns his back on you. Then you steal a minute to potter through each room in the little flat that was your home. The bedroom, barely large enough for two. The bathroom, with a propensity for leaking, the shower where Tooru insists on serenading the neighbours, much to their discontent. The kitchen, full of memories of shared dinners, and quiet conversations. 

You bid farewell to two full years of happiness, press your forehead against the front door to whisper goodbye to your home. 

The lock clicks. You close the door.