#but my mother decided I didn’t need to know that lmao

[mercuryferns]

Not to “vent” on main, but i want to speak about pride and autism for a bit

I’m currently in a weird place in my life where im trying to accept many aspects of my identity that i considered ugly for a long long time. one of those being my autism, which i was diagnosed with a little earlier on this year. having that diagnosis fundamentally changed how i viewed myself in ways i struggle to describe to you. i had a brief phase where in desperation to dissociate myself from the stigmatized perception of autistic people that had unconsciously polluted my brain, i swore to use terms like “aspie” and “high functioning” “level one” as if allistic society seeing me as not human but in a slightly more appealing way (that being that instead of being seen as a four year old incapable of original thought i would be a weird carbon copy of albert einstein destined to cure cancer) would somehow make my life easier.

it doesnt, all it does is reinforce the same pseudo scientific eugenic hierarchy of what a clever worthy person is and what a broken unintelligible undeserving one is. realizing that was tough, because i grew up coping with my autistic traits by being whatever people wanted. i was like cheap air dried clay where the more i tried to mould myself into something i wasnt the more i started to crack, smooth over it meticulously with spit and desperation. im still in this spot of fragmented identity, in a liminal space between what i always wished i could be and the disappointing reality of what i actually am.

is it disappointing? is it only disappointing because i’m who i was taught was wrong?

i got what is known as an “unofficial” diagnosis. in other words, we went to a psychiatrist, did an evaluation, and was told hey yeah you’re right. this was because my mother wanted me to be diagnosed with asbergers, which is no longer recognized. i know she meant well. she didnt want me to feel like i was carrying a label too heavy for me. but theres a major part of me - especially after finding out exactly why the label “asbergers” exists - which is in violent opposition to it.

and. upon finding validation in the online autistic community i discovered just how unfounded my shame is. Being autistic is beautiful in so many ways. it makes me so sad that i would ever dismiss it as a part of me. I dont know how i managed to evade diagnosis for so long.

(when i look back on my childhood, i find it riddled with memories of rooms with yoga balls and swings; middle aged ladies with pixie cuts and the same lipstick spending hours trying to teach me how to write the letter C; pulled out of class “where am i going?“ “i think you need to calm down” “i am calm”; my father eyeing my ankles and calling “flat feet” as a reminder to let my heels touch the cold grainy tiles of our stoep, drawing faces on my erasers and sobbing for days when a girl threw penelope in the bin of the afrikaans class; reciting “just think about something else just think about something else just think about something else just-“ while attempting to get myself to eat egg and toast that was too toasted and anything with more than two identifiable textures; seeing someone in my spot in my spot in my spot in my spot in my spot thats my spot thats my spot thats my spot feeling something boil in my stomach; what are you doing i dont like it i dont understand are friends supposed to do this to me?)

Yeah. I have to study for my history exam now. But the point is that im autistic. And thats not only okay thats fucking awesome. Its a huge part of my life and if your idea of normal is what has caused me so much pain and dissociation throughout the years then deal with it when i actually embrace my own brain.

allistics who are cool, this is not intended to shit on you. just some thoughts ive had lately.

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[desparaic]

Imagine Rengoku's son traveling to the past

Rengoku X Fem! Reader

I’m sorry, I never really do this kinda stuff before, but this has just been rotting my mind

read part 2 here

So, imagine Rengoku's teenage son traveling to the past when trying to fight a demon.

He is confused by the fact the demon just used his BDA and ran away just like that. He looks around and even checks himself, nothing.

Tf this demon do?????

Sun is almost up. Weird. He swears it just set only a few hours ago.

He tries to chase after the demon but with the thick trees, it’s hard to see where he went.

Defeated, he decides to go back to the corps headquarters, maybe visit the estate and go see his mother again

Imagine his surprise when he finds that things are a bit different than the last time he left the hq

I’m sorry what do you mean the current oyakata is Kagaya??? Isn’t that Kiriya-sama’s late father????

wait is that Uzui-san????? He has both of his eyes???? And he’s back being a slayer now?????

And why does everyone look at him weird????? Wait, where are his friends????

He has to take a double take when he sees the news post near the garden and realizes the year of the news is set in 19XX, more than 15 years back into the past.

He swears it’s a prank

it isn’t lol

After a liiiitttlee panic attack and existential crisis, he realizes he’s in the past

Down side, he doesn’t know how to get back and what this means

Upside, he can see his mom in action as a hashira!

She retired when he was born, so he didn’t get to see her in action aside from training sessions.

Excited (as if he wasn’t just panicking about this lmao), he rushes all over the place to find his mother

people be staring at him

who is this carbon copy of the flame hashira and why is he running

Eventually finds her just about to take off for a mission

“MOTHERRRRRR!”

I’m sorry huh?

You look at the kid surprised. Not only is he look exactly like your husband, this kid just called you mom.

I’m?????? Did Kyojuro have a secret love child???? or a relative he never told you about?????

Your future son is just so hyped seeing you in your uniform the first time he almost forgot to explain himself LMAO

When he quickly introduces as your son you’re just there like 🧍‍♀️

This kid needs to find a physician quick

Well, turns out he isn’t lying, especially after telling you an intimate detail that only a few people know.

You’re flustered, surprised, bewildered, but most importantly…

You’re excited to see him! You and Rengoku have always talked about having a family, so you’re so glad you both eventually do!!!

Immediate bond. Get along super well. Almost like y’all are related dang who would’ve thought

You excitedly say, “Oh, I can’t wait for Kyojuro to meet you! I bet He’s excited to see his son from the future! You look just like him!”

his genes do be strong

but as soon as you say that, your son’s smile fades.

Your motherly instincts tell you something is wrong.

“Is everything okay?”

You didn’t miss the way he furrows his eyebrows and lift the corner of his lip in annoyance, even if it was just a split second.

He only smiles (though your mama bear instinct is like “no, no, this kid definitely hidin’ smn), “no, nothing’s wrong.”

”Oh! Can you show me your breathing technique, Mother? You never get to show me your breathing style!”

Huh. Weird.

Okay gonna write a part 2 because this way too long brother

UPDATE: aight here it is part 2

[spookysteddie]

Call It What You Want

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!reader

18+ Minors DNI

part two

cw: unsupportive parents, hint at mentally abusive mother, negative media attention, talk of sex tape, food mentions (they go on a dinner date), reader is in therapy. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I've decided to make this a series that is loosely based off of reputation by Taylor swift. It literally all came to me in a dream last night lmao. If anyone has requests for these two and wants me to create lore pleeeeaaaseee request it. This is so fun for me!

...

Do not disturb was the best thing that could’ve ever been added to phones. Specifically because, without it, you would’ve gotten less sleep than you did (thanks to Eddie). 

Your phone is filled with messages, emails from the press asking for comments and messages from your parents. You’re barely awake before checking the tabloids and, as expected, you and Eddie are the top headlines. Everyone has something to say about your escapades last night, videos of you at the concert, photos of you getting out of the car with him and videos from the club. 

Social media influencer and rockstar Eddie Muson seen out together since miss Asher confessed her love for him

Good girl y/n Asher and Bad Boy Eddie Muson spotted together 

Is y/n Asher going down a dark path?

Social Media influencer shedding her good girl image as she parties with Corroded Coffin

You knew there would be some drama associated with you partying with the band. You knew there would be fans who would be disappointed in you. You also knew there was a high possibility someone would have photos of you around little white lines, leading to some assumptions about you. 

You didn’t care. 

You check your parents texts next and your stomach drops.

Momma: What are you doing out with that man?! Do you know his reputation? 

Papa: The last thing you need is your reputation being ruined! You will ruin your future if you continue with him.

The phone is taken out of your hand before you can respond to them, Eddie locking it and placing it behind you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving light kisses on your bare skin. 

“You shouldn’t read what those pricks have to say.” He continues to leave kisses along your skin, “most of them talk out of their asses and don’t understand.” 

He’s right, of course you know that. You’ve had the most misogynistic shit written about you that you knew they would never write about the man behind you. You could smile weird and all of a sudden you’re the biggest cunt ever. You can never win. 

You sigh, settling into his hold. It’s not that you care about your reputation, shit like that changes faster than the weather and it’s not worth it to stress about it. But also, this is your job and the last thing you need is to lose sponsorships because you’re fucking Eddie. 

“I know. It’s just annoying cause no one is writing mean shit about you. It’s always about me and my life.” 

He hums, “nothing like good old fashion misogyny.” He says it with a shit load of sarcasm, knowing misogyny is not a good thing at all. But it makes you giggle all the same. 

“Wait!” You sit up, almost smacking him in the face with your head, “the poll! I wanna see it.” 

He grins as he hands you your phone. You ignore your parents, deciding you’ll deal with them later, and open up instagram. You win by a landslide, 86% of your followers voted you as prettier. 

Eddie laughs behind you. You turn to look at him, a huge grin on your face, “you owe me a date, Munson.” 

His eyes fall to your lips, making you lean in a little closer, “hows tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect,” you whisper as you close the gap and kiss him. 

… 

You can’t avoid your parents by the time you get home. They’ve been calling you for hours (hours you spent tangled up with Eddie in his bed). You know for a fact that it’ll be worse if you continue to ignore them. 

They answer within the first ring, “About time you called us back. We’ve been calling you for hours!” 

“Yes, momma, I know. I was busy with Case and Anna.” 

You hear her exasperated sigh from your mother, “yeah? For what? Cleaning up the mess you made last night?”

You’re trying to keep your composure, not wanting to yell at your mother, no matter how many times she made you feel horrible about any little decision you made. She was still your mother. 

“Case and Anna knew about all of that. Ran it by them first like I’m supposed to do.” 

Your mothers attitude only grows, “so what they just approved of you running around with someone known to do drugs? Are you doing drugs? So help me God, y/n, if I find out your doing drugs, I will fly out th-” 

“Mom, I am not doing drugs. I went to his show, somewhere I’ve been before by the way, and then we went to a club. Which is something I do on the weekends anyway. I don’t see the big deal.” 

You hear her huff, “don’t you dare give me attitude, little girl.” You hate when she calls you that. It’s been her little tool your entire life. She's done it to make you feel small, to make you feel insignificant and, try as you might, it gets to you. 

“You better not be seen with him again, got it?” 

You can feel the anger getting to you, “mom, I am 25 years old. I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot date. He was very respectful actually. Didn’t pressure me to do anything. Now, I have some things to film before tonight.” You hang up before she can say anything else, throwing your phone onto your vanity and running your hands down your face.  

Hana clears her throat from where she’s leaning against the door frame. You know she heard that entire conversation. You’d told her when you got home everything, including your parents non-stop calling.

She hands you a coffee, made just how you like, “how was that?” 

You take a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, “same old mom. Thinks I’m ruining my life and my reputation.” 

“Well, do you think you’re ruining your life and reputation?” 

This is one thing you love about Hana is she doesn’t baby you. Ever. She always allows you room to feel your feelings before she gives you her opinion. But she also makes sure you are able to give a name to what you’re feeling. And right now, you’re feeling frustrated. 

“No. Hana, he was amazing. He was respectful and he always asked what I wanted. And god the sex was fantastic,” you sigh wistfully. “And we’re going out on a date tomorrow. Just him and I. And I was really excited but of course my mother likes to ruin everything.” 

Hana sits on the chair next to the vanity, taking your hand, “Listen to me, if you have a good feelin’ about it, I say go for it. I didn’t get any strange feelings or vibes last night, the opposite really. Also, fuck a reputation. Taylor Swift’s was six feet in the ground and look at her now. Do what makes you happy.” 

You can feel the tightness in your chest, backs of your eyes burning. All you can do is pull her into a bone crushing hug.

… 

You’re pretty much over your mothers comments by the next night. Of course your therapist heard all the details and said, basically, exactly what Hana did. She also told me that I am an adult and I am more than able to make my own choices when it comes to things like drugs and alcohol.

She’s right of course. 

And so, because of this realization that isn’t a realization, you keep the date with Eddie. In fact you’re more than excited to go. To see him again. You filmed all your content, posting the other nights ‘spend the day with me’ video you made.

You’ve even gained a shit ton of followers as well, most of them fans of the bands. Now, don’t get it twisted, the uptick in followers also means an uptick in hate comments and unfollows. You don’t care. Those people are entitled to follow whoever they want and the mean people clearly just have a lot going on in life. It comes with the territory. 

Eddie, however, has texted you non stop and follows every single social media account you have. Even commenting on the videos and photos you posted. That got the press talking more and birthed a shit ton more butterflies into your belly. 

Eddie didn’t give you much information on what this date would be. All he told you was to dress nice and bring a jacket because it’s ‘getting chilly and you can’t catch a cold.’ You tried explaining that’s not how colds work but he wasn’t having it. And so, you pick out one of your favorite dresses, short and black that makes your tits look killer, with stockings that snap onto a garter hidden under your dress. Of course you added a long trench coat just to keep you warm. 

Eddie picks you up at 7pm on the dot, not a second later. Again, the bar is in hell because the fact that he is on time makes you want to kick your feet like a little girl. He looks delicious, dressed in his black jeans and a black button up. He grins when you open the door, the chilly night air tickling your legs.

“Give me a spin, Miss Asher,” he smiles. 

He takes your hand, spinning you around a few times. Once semi quickly and once very slowly, drinking you in like he’s been in the desert for years. It’s kindling to the fire inside your heart, warming you from the inside out. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He kisses your cheek, never letting go of your hand. 

You can feel your entire body heat, a shudder wracking through you. “You’re beautiful too. So, so, pretty.” 

You watch a blush tinge his cheeks, “no one has ever called me pretty to my face… and meant it.” 

He opens the door to his car as he speaks, making sure you don’t hit your head getting in before running around to the other side and settling in the driver's seat.

“Well, for the record, I do mean it. I mean, who in the hell looks that gorgeous first thing in the morning?” You giggle as you say it, fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

He takes your hand, squeezing it twice, “you.” 

That makes you smile the entire way to the restaurant. 

… 

This is the most beautiful date you’ve ever been on. 

Eddie had it all planned out perfectly. There was no press standing outside, waiting to take candid shots. He rented out the entire restaurant so that there would be no interruptions, just you and him and the small waitstaff. Flowers litter the floor, a small walkway leading to the table, a bottle of your favorite wine sitting in ice.��

You smile, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. He can feel his heart racing, scared you aren’t going to like it or it’s too much or he’s scared you away. It feels like it’s forever before you answer him. “This is beautiful, Eddie. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do all this. But it’s so appreciated.” 

He gives you a swift kiss, his heart feeling like it’s going to burst, “you deserve it. You deserve to feel appreciated and cared for.” 

“Well, that is exactly how I feel right now.”  

Eddie pulls out your chair, letting you sit before he takes his own. The candles on the table flicker, casting Eddie in the most beautiful glow ever. He’s radiant, beautiful, and you don’t know how anyone could hate him. You felt like you could see his soul when he looks at you, kind, sweet, angelic. 

The waiter interrupts your thoughts, introducing himself and pouring the wine. And once all the food is ordered, it’s just you and Eddie. Suddenly, you’re nervous. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” You cringe slightly at the generic question. You’d talked to him all day yesterday between filming and his studio time. Releasing a new album takes a lot of time, more time than more people would think. 

“It was good. I feel like we finally have the sound we’re going for nailed down. S’gonna be similar to what we always do, of course. But I felt like, based off the songs we wrote, we needed a more,” he sipped his wine, thinking about how to describe the sound. “... sensual sound. Sexy if you will.” 

You giggle a little, “so you basically wrote about your groupies.” You’re joking, of course, not really caring about the people who came before you. Kind of. 

He raises his brows, shaking his head, “no. I actually spent most of yesterday rewriting the songs I wrote. Not all of them, but a good few.” 

“Oh! So did you record at all yesterday?” Again, it’s a generic question, but you’re genuinely interested in the process and how his mind works. 

He nods, “we did! It’s fucking thrilling to get what’s in my brain into actual art. I can’t believe I get to do this for a job.” 

Eddie's eyes practically sparkle as he talks about how exciting his job is. You love to see it, honestly. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on stage, fans screaming and singing the songs he wrote back to him. You can imagine that’ll get someone real high. 

He interrupts your thoughts, “can I ask you a question?”

You freeze, stomach falling to your ass. It’s never good when someone starts off like that. You grab your wine trying to hide your shaking hands, “yes of course!” 

“To me, it feels like there is something missing in a few of the songs. I’m pretty sure it’s y-your voice,” his stutter makes you feel a little better inside. He’s nervous. “So I was wondering if you’d wanna record some things with me?”

“Eddie, I can’t sing.” 

He smirks because you didn’t say no. “You don’t have to. I just need your voice. For the record, when I say record some things with me I don’t mean like sex videos… unless you’re into that.” You both laugh at how ridiculous he is, but a small pulse between your thighs tells you that you might be into making a little movie for just you and him. 

“While sex videos could be fun, that shit is so scary. Anyone can hack into whatever we use and boom… careers over. As for my voice, absolutely. I’m honored actually.” And you are. To have your voice be on something forever is so fucking cool. Of course, the internet is forever, but to you, it’s different when it’s music. 

“One more question…” 

You nod, motioning for him to continue. 

“Can I use your moans in a song?” 

You nearly choke on your wine, eyes going wide. “My-my moans? Like from when we have sex?” 

“Mhm. They are so fucking beautiful, baby. As much as I want to keep every part of you for myself, your moans would fit perfectly in this one song I have.” 

You have to be 50 shades of fucked up because you’re actually fucking touched that he thinks that part of you is pretty enough to put in his music. No one has to know if they’re real or not. And you don’t even have to answer the questions if anyone asks if it’s you. 

You laugh, shaking your head, “you, Eddie Munson, are crazy. I’m here for it but do you think your fans will like it? I don’t want you to do this just because we fucked the other night. I like you and you don’t have to put my anything in songs to get me to stick around. I don’t just like you because you make music.” 

He looks a little stunned, almost like he doesn’t believe you. “I… you don’t have to lie, baby. I mean, fuck, I’m not trying to call you a liar. I just am not used to people liking me as me. Usually they just want me because then it’s like a bragging thing. Not that, that’s what you are here for. Fuck, I am really fucking this up.” He rubs the back of his neck, his other hand clenched. 

You grab that hand, forcing yours into it and rubbing your thumb on his wrist, “I understand what you mean, Eddie. I’m not offended. But I mean what I said. I’m not here to further my career. I’m here because I’ve had a sickening crush on you for years. My poor friends have had to listen to me go on and on about it.” You laugh, feeling your face heat as you confess all this to him. 

“Really?” He looks like a boy, big, brown puppy eyes staring up at you. 

You nod, “really. Hana was ready to throw me a party because I finally got a date with you.”  

He laughs, the sound loud and from his belly. 

You decide right then that you will do whatever it takes to keep him forever.

[serqphites]

HEAR ME OUT….

Lee harker x single mom!reader 🤯🤯🤯🤭🤭🤭

STOP BC I COULDN’T IGNORE THIS UNTIL TOMORROW (yes it’s 2:40 while i’m writing this rn) you have given me such bad brain rot with this 😭

—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—

okay so let’s say you have a daughter around the age of 3. things had been rough before meeting lee, life pretty much being put on hold for you as you couldn’t go anywhere without your child.

you met lee in your local store, just minding your business when your daughter decides it’s time to play matchmaker!

despite calling for her as she runs and runs further away from you, she still doesn’t listen until she finds herself hiding behind a very stiff lee harker’s leg.

girly is stressed LMAOOO, like where the hell has this random child come from and oh my god why is her mother so beautiful??

“oh my god i am so sorry!” you’re trying your best to remove your daughter from lee’s leg, but apparently your child has super strength and forgot to tell you.

“no no-“ GULP, “you’re fine” you’d honestly think someone was holding her at gunpoint and forcing her to smile, why is she just showing off her teeth instead of smiling with them?

i can SMELL her gay panic.

once your daughter eventually lets go, you continue apologising profusely as you begin walking away.

“wait!” lee calls out, her voice shaky. she does an awkward little jog over to you, her arm extended towards you as she waves a small elephant teddy in the air.

oh yeah that’s when you decided to get her number. the baywatch jog to hand deliver the toy to you reallyyyy did it.

fast forward a few months and things are going great! lee comes over every friday after clocking out and doesn’t leave until she has to. your weekend sleepovers are consistently the highlight of her week.

she’s definitely… interesting when it comes to your daughter.

“sooo, this is your room.”

and your kids just sat in her bed like “ya.”

yeah you dragged her out of there. “lee you don’t need to talk to her like she’s a suspect, just be normal”

“that was me being normal” and she hits you with the :/

she defo sends you money for stuff like sitters and daycare to help with your part time job. it also frees you up for date nights!

(lee keeps tabs on the babysitter and every single person who works in the daycare your daughter attends, she came to stand on business)

when things start to get really serious between you two, lee decides to move you into her cabin! this cutie even changed her study into the cutest little forest themed nursery you’ve ever seen.

“lee it’s perfect! thank you” you’re literally on the verge of sobbing and she’s just stood in the doorway like 🧍‍♀️🙂

lee does become better around your kid, acting more loving towards her and not being as afraid of her LMAO

also she’s so fucking overprotective.

lee never asked why you were a single mother, she didn’t really think it was her place. it took you quite a while to open up to her about it, her holding you as you finally let out all of your emotions for the first time since falling pregnant. men fucking suck.

NSFW:

jumping straight into it, it turns her on so much that you’re a single mother.

i can picture her sat at her desk that’s now in the corner of your bedroom, her fingers hooked into the loop of your jeans as words of adoration spill from her lips.

“i think you’re so strong”, “it’s so hot that you did that all by yourself”, “you’re so amazing”.

before you know it she’s trailing kisses down your stomach, one hand coming up to rub the center of your chest as the other undoes your belt buckle…

[epione-xx]

BABY, PLEASE

WARNING. THIS. IS. A. SMUT!!!! And a fever dream. Idk what was happening when I wrote this but…eh.

CONTAINS: breeding kink, master/pet play, situationship, lingerie + nudes, unsafe sex (plz never do this in real life)

There also could be a pt2 if you guys want 👀

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

‘Lmao no, I’m with a guy’

Damian gripped his phone tightly in his hand and frowned, reading and re-reasing the text again before texting back himself, only using one word.

‘Who?’

And when she didnt reply, he scoffed an threw his phone into his backseat. The crinkle of a bag signalling it had been caught and he hand taking it further than intended.

And then he tapped the wheel impatiently, thinning and thinking and…then finally turning around to grab his phone again to see if she had texted back, and seeing she hadn’t yet, he groaned and leaned back before grabbing the bag of his newly bought ‘essentials’.

Now these essentials weren’t really…well what you think. Instead it was a pack of condoms and other various things that ranged from a box of chocolates to a newly bought phone charger since he had forgotten his own.

He always forgot his charger when going to her house, being fair…most of the times he went there when he was frustrated with his father and then she would…help him through it…

And it started off like that. He had a fight with his father, stormed out and drove off in his car before remembering that he had forgotten any type of protection, which then lead into a trip to the store, which lead to him buying everything he thought was needed before texting his hook up to se did she wanted anything…

And that’s why the dreaded text came. The one that said she was with a guy.

Damian pursed his lips and decided to indulge himself in one of the chocolates he had gotten, unwrapping the shiny blue foil of it before popping it into his mouth and opting to scroll thought instagram for a bit.

His instagram wasn’t interesting per say. A bunch of art and a few posts from various friends here and there…it was all boring until he saw the little green dot under her photo.

Now was his chance.

‘What happened to the guy?’ He texts ‘wouldn’t be active on instagram if you ever evening fucked. We all know your not competent enough to do two things at once’

—

Rolling over her bed and pulling her pillow to her chest, Y/n snorted at Damian’s text and rolled her eyes, that mother fucker was just jealous.

‘Didn’t work out. He was way to kinky’

she was hoping for a rise out of him, something- anything, brining her lip she watched as the little dotted bubble pop up before going back down again.

Letting out a sigh she rolled over again and carefully looks to her wardrobe, maybe she had a good idea…

And so getting up, she carefully walked over. Careful to not make any sudden noise in hope she wouldn’t wake anyone up.

She dressed herself in a elegant green set of lace- a new one that she had gotten for Damian…using Damian’s card, being fair- he asked he too.

Soon y/n set up the camera and placed it close to her thighs, you couldn’t see her face- but that was the point. She knew Damian hates not being able to see her face…

And so she snapped a shot, sending it straight to him with the caption. ‘I feel so empty without you’

—

Damian stared wide eyed, his pants were getting tight and he could physically feel himself grow to be in more pain as he stared at the photo- how dare she do this to him!

And so he set the phone down and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm…before his phone dinged again.

And before he could eve consider what the text could be, he picked it up and hurriedly searched for her name.

Bingo, it was another photo.

This time it was in the same set but the camera was more focused on her chest, showing her boobs off proudly with the caption ‘id like to be fuller, please daddy.’

And Damian stared, and searched for words before texting one thing back.

‘What if I fill you with my cum? My heirs? You wouldn’t feel so lonely and empty then would you? You would be filled with your lord all the time…’

His pants tightened. He never realised that he could have a thing for her in that way…he never realised he had a breeding kink.

And so he set off to her place

—

The woman at the other end of the line flushed deeply at Damian’s words and squeezed her legs together, that had to be int of the most sexy things he had ever said to her…and imagining herself pregnant, full with his child…and even better, being claimed by him in that way…it excited her.

There were so many things she was thinking of now. Things she had never even dreamed off…it was like she was in a haze.

But knowing Damian, he was teasing her. He would never make any of that a reality…so she set off for the shower, trying to wash away the arousal.

…or so she thought, the bathroom door opened, Samoa standing there both flushed and hard as he looked at her.

“Damian!” She shrieked as she stared at him “what the hell! How did you get in?”

“Spare key” he stalked closer, a primal instinct in his eyes as he stared at her and slowly Pepe’s the glass door.

Her face flushed aa she stared at him, watching as he underdress himself. “What are you doing?” She asks, almost sounding meek.

“You think I was kidding?” He asks her, looking her body up and down before licking his lips. His cock growing even harder. “You think I was joking beloved?”

She felt herself grow wetter and she slowly nods “I mean, I guess I was?” She says. “I never pictured you as the da-“

She didn’t get to finish, Damian had turned off the taps and had picked her up. Throwing her over his shoulder before he set off too her bedroom. Placing her on the bed….right in front of her floor to ceiling mirror.

“Look at yourself” he set her upon his lap, fingers dancing across her stomach and chest “look at how pretty you’d be holding my heir, how beautiful you would look…” he sucked hickies into her neck.

“You would be so swollen, so needy..and I’d fuck you every single day.” He purred

Her head rolled back into his neck and she arched her back as Damian’s fingers went to her nipples and he pinched them lightly, rolling the buds between his finger tips before he grinds into her.

“Your beautiful tits…they would hold so much milk” he smirked “it would leak out of you as I fucked you, you wouldn’t be able to control it and if drink from you every day”

She shuddered and closed her eyes as she felt this hand move from her chest to her stomach, rubbing lightly before he dived the down and pulled her thighs apart.

“Would you enjoy having my baby?” He purred “like a good little slut?”

She gasps and nods in a hurry “I would, I would so much my lord. As long as you were next to me I would enjoy anything~” she clenched around thin air and moans.

He smirked and slowly began to rub her clit, making sure to tease her. “You would be so sexy” he hummed “so beautiful, I’d fuck you all throughout your labour”

She flushed even more “Damian!” She whines loudly “please~ please fuck me now. Put your baby in me-“

She gasps as she was picked up and throw onto the bed mercilessly, thought being opened by his rough and calloused hands before he looked at her “are you ready for my child? Or do you need me to put a condom on?”

She stared at him and felt herself grow hotter “I need your baby. I need to be pregnant with your baby…to be your queen”

He smirked and nods before he slowly thrusted into her, letting out a satisfied moan at how she clenched around him.

She gasps in pleasure and clawed at his back “just give me a moment”

In a sweet moment, he nods na splayed a soft kiss on her lips before trailing it down to her chest “why don’t I show you how good it’ll feel?”

She nods and moaned as his lips began to suck on her nipple, soon enough she was grinding on him- begging for more.

And that’s when he began to thrust. Lifting his head up and staring at her deep in the eyes as the bed creaked beneath them.

“Good girl” he groaned “such a good girl for me. You’ll be rewarded pet~” he moans as he kissed her.

She gasps and moans as she dig her nails into his back, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Damian!” It was a sharp gasp, her toes curled as she came around his cock, which then sent him over the edge to cum inside her, burying himself as far into her as he could before he felt himself explode and paint her walls white.

She took deep breaths, heart beating out of her chest as she looked up at him “thank you master” she whispers

He also took deep breaths and pressed soft kisses to her hairline “thank you beloved” he says “please. Be my one and only…be my wife”

She smiles and nods “always”

Even if they had skipped a couple of steps…they were both happy in the end…and who knew what the future held.

[maltesejjong]

Its my first time putting a request so I'll try to sum it up!!

Could you make a bangchan x f!reader? Where yn and Chan have been trying for a child for abt 2 years they've had 3 or 4 miscarriages and after a long time, they have 2 beautiful twins!! (You don't have to do it if you don't want to!! Your health comes first 💗)

OMG ilysm for this. Thank you for being my first request, and thank you for trusting me to be your first request! Before I go any further, though, I want to touch on a few things with this one. First off: this is a very real thing that doesn’t get talked about enough . Miscarriages happen and there is no shame. If you have ever lost a baby before, please know that you are stronger than you think, and that you did nothing to deserve such a loss. Secondly: this is a major fear of mine. I want nothing more than to be a mother. I have had three moms throughout my life and I want to be able to give someone the love and protection the first two didn’t give me. I’m also the mom friend so yeah lmao. Finally, to all the moms out there, or those who would have been moms if not for this loss: thank you for all you do. You deserve more than what you have because you truly do the most unappreciated task in the world. You bring children into the world and give them life, regardless of if you lost the baby, there was still a life force that you created. That is an amazing accomplishment. I apologize ahead of time if any of that seemed insensitive but please know you are loved and appreciated. You are not alone🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

ONTO THE POST!

Warnings: mentions of miscarriages, that’s pretty much it. You’re married to Chan, afab!reader. Pure fluff! Oh, and mentions of girl dad Chan idk bout y’all but girl dad Chan needs a warning because he’s TOO DAMN MUCH ISTG HE IS A GIRL DAD

There’s a time skip bc I was lazy and wasn’t sure what to write as filler lol I’m sorry😭😭

Wc: Idek I didn’t count

Enjoy 😊

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

You sigh and drop your head back to rest on the cabinet behind you. It had been almost two whole hours since you laid the damp stick on the counter and slid down to sit on the cool tiled floor. You had been feeling nauseous lately, but chalked it up to something you ate.

Until you realized you’re late.

By three weeks.

Three. Whole. Weeks.

You’re never late.

So, of course, you decided to take a pregnancy test.

While your husband was at work.

It’s not that you don’t want Chan to know. It’s just… after so long, after trying for this long, all the disappointment and heartache that came with each failed pregnancy, you learned to avoid the topic of kids. Specifically kids of your own. As much as you both want kids, the hardship of discovering each miscarriage broke your spirits.

So you’ve learned not to get his hopes up. Which is why you keep a secret stash of pregnancy tests. Because no matter what, you always get your hopes up when you realize what is most likely going on with your body.

You close your eyes, trying to relax your mind when your phone buzzes, bringing you out of your thoughts.

💙channie💙: hey princess. I’m on my way home

You: alright babe

💙channie💙: want anything from the store?

You: ice cream?

💙channie💙: ofc baby. I’ll see you soon love you

You: love you too. Drive safe💞

Sighing, you put your phone down, knowing you need to get this over with before he gets home. You slide your thumb over the diamond on your left hand before pushing yourself up to look at the results of the test.

“Shit,” you mutter. “I knew it.”

Four months later

You let out a sigh as the doctor spreads the cold gel across your belly, which, despite being four months pregnant, has stayed suspiciously flat. Hence why Chan never caught on.

“How’s the morning sickness?” Dr. Kim asks.

“Gone,” you say.

“Any general nausea?”

You shake your head. “Only when I sit or stand up too fast.”

He nods and hums to himself. “Any cramping? Abnormal bleeding?”

“None,” you happily reply.

His eyes flick up to yours. “Have you told your husband yet?”

You close your eyes. “No,” you whisper. “And please don’t hint to him.”

“Like I would,” the doctor scoffs.

Dr. Kim, as he is known at work, is one of your closest friends. The only time you ever call him Dr anything is when you’re in his office. Outside these walls, he’s just Seungmin to you. Your best friend since high school. He’s also the first person you tell when you’ve gotten pregnant in the past… and the first to know when you lost the baby.

“I can’t tell him, Min,” you say quietly.

“Why’s that?”

You feel your eyes start to burn. “What if I lose another one?”

Seungmin stops what he’s doing and grabs your hand. “Y/n, do you realize how long it’s been? It’s been four months. In the past, it only lasted half of that. I think it’s safe to tell him. You’re more than halfway through your pregnancy. Doesn’t he deserve to know?”

You bite your lip. “I don’t want to get his hopes up, though. It would crush him.”

“And it wouldn’t crush you?”

You blink back tears.

“Y/nnie, this is why you’re married. In sickness and in health, remember? You’re with each other through thick and thin. If this is gonna crush him, then let it crush you too. It’s okay to go through that. I understand protecting him, but have you ever considered that he wants to do the same to you, but he can’t? Let him in. Let it hurt if it ends up hurting. But you’ll heal together.”

“Minnie… as a professional… do you…?”

He understands your unfinished question. “Yes, love,” he says, eyes softening. “I think it’ll make it. So tell him.”

You take a deep breath and nod. “I will.”

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

You feel something tickle your shoulder and sleepily roll away from it. But it returns, traveling up to your neck.

“Mmm,” you groan tiredly.

“Morning, beautiful,” Chan whispers against your skin.

You roll over to face him. “Morning,” you reply, feeling a loopy grin stretch across your face. You sigh contentedly when his hand slides up your waist and rests there, holding you close. You peek up at him, recognizing the glimmer in his eyes. “What?”

His dimples appear. “Nothing,” he instantly replies. “You’re just so pretty.”

You squint at him. “Is that all?”

“What? I can’t call you pretty?”

“Christopher Chan, I know that look in your eyes. Out with it.”

He props himself up on one elbow, half hovering over you. “I was thinking…”

“Oh boy, that’s never good,” you tease, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft black hair.

He closes his eyes in bliss for a moment, than takes a deep breath. “What do you think about adopting?”

You go still. “What?”

“Adoption. I don’t know I just think maybe it’s time to add another member to the family?”

You bite your lip. “But… baby. We already have another addition to the family.”

He looks at you, obviously confused off his ass. “We do?”

You nod, steeling yourself. “Well… it might take a bit but… yeah we do…”

“Love, what are you talking about? It’s not a very long process. Did you pick one out without telling me?”

You feel your eyes widen as you realize he’s not talking about the same thing you are. “Channie, what are you on about?”

“I asked you first.”

You shake your head. “Not until you spill.”

“A dog, babe. What else?”

“A… a dog?” You ask in exasperation. “I thought you were talking about a child, Christopher.”

“No…?” You watch his eyebrows join together in thought. “Wait. Back up. We already have another addition? What is that supposed to mean?”

Shit. “Umm…” you start to consider saying you actually did pick out a dog already. “Nothing.”

“No no no no no. Nah-uh. Y/n. What did you mean?”

You shake your head, refusing to answer.

“Fine then.” His hands meet your shoulders and he pushes you into your back, hovering over you. “You don’t wanna talk? Fine. Then I’m not getting up.” And he plops down on top of you, dead weight.

Of course, it hurts. Hurts even more considering you have an extra little someone residing in you. “Shut,” you yelp. “Chan get off.”

There’s something in your tone that makes him shoot up. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head. “Not… not me…”

“Then who…” as his voice trails off, so do his eyes, until they land on your stomach. “Fuck. Wait. No.” He looks up at you. “No. Baby. What?”

You bite your lip and nod. “Yes.”

“Shit. I…” he places a hand on your stomach. “I— I could’ve hurt you,” he whispers, staring down at your tummy.

“Baby, look at me. Please?” He does and you cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s alright.”

He bites his lip. “Are… are you sure?”

You nod.

“How long?”

“Four… four months,” you whisper.

He blinks. Five times. “What?”

You nod. “I had an appointment with Minnie and he said everything looks fine. He said that I just have a late developing baby bump. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just didn’t want us to get our hopes up… But Min said that since it’s been so long and I’m already more than halfway there…”

Chan’s eyes light up. “There’s a chance?”

“A very high one. You aren’t mad?”

“Mad?”

“That I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He shakes his head. “Baby. No. I’m not mad love. I understand your hesitation to tell me. Truly.”

You blink. “Why are you so calm right now?” You bury your face in his arm, which is still planted next to your head. “I feel like I’m freaking out and I want to cry and… God I don’t even know.”

He presses a kiss to your hair. “Because I know freaking out won’t help you and staying calm is the best way to process this.”

You sigh. “Why are you so perfect?”

“Just part of the charm. Besides, I have two princesses to take care of; I can’t let myself be anything less than that.”

You turn to face him. “Two?” You ask, raising your eyebrow.

He smiled sheepishly. “I feel like it’s gonna be a girl.”

You hmmm in thought. “What if it’s a boy?”

“Then I’ll still be nothing less than perfect. I’m just saying I think it’ll be a girl.”

“I think you just want to be a girl dad,” you tease lovingly.

He blushes slightly. “Maybe.” He leans forward and nuzzles your neck. “I think id be a great girl dad.”

You kiss the side of his head. “I think you’d be a great anything dad.”

“We got this,” he whispers against your neck. “We always do.”

You wrap your arms around him. “You still want to adopt?”

He chuckles. “Babe, you just told me we’re having a baby, and now you want to add a puppy in the mix?”

You shrug. “Why not? We’re growing our family, right?”

He nods against you.

“So then let’s grow it.”

@linoalwaysknows Tysm again for submitting the request

[bae04xx]

Heyyy I just saw it post and like I couldn't resist sending in an ask (or request if you will)!! If you want to could you write a bill cipher (yes ik💀) x reader where he and the reader are dating but get into an argument and he just says/does sum really mean stuff?? Fluff ending tho please I can't take only angst lmao, for the reader i would pref a Fem reader but gn is fine to!! Also for bill could he be in his triangle form?? (I'm so sorry if this is a long ask💀💀) but yeah that's it!!

One last thing if you don't mind could I be the 😻 anon so like if I send a ask/message I will add that and yk its me!!

-😻

hey ofc, sorry don’t check my tumblr that often! i would love to :)

thanks 😻 anon :)

bill cipher x fem! reader

angst and fluff 🖤☁️

i grabbed my bags out of my car boot, harshly gripping them between my fingers, which the knuckles of began to loose their colour from the chill in the air. after shutting the car doors and locking it up i begin storming down the pebbled drive towards my little cottage of a home. i sigh as i drop my bags and twist the key into the lock. i walk into the warmth of my house- silence greets me. after a full day at work, a very busy day might i add, then running about 5 errands i expect my home to be as i left it, cleaned to perfection. my eyes squint at the crumbs left all over hallway’s floor, i walk through them and set my bags onto the kitchen’s table- only to see condiments and dirty dishes scattered on the counters.

i quickly put my food shopping away, then hastily clean the house top to bottom, from hoovering to polishing to mopping to cleaning all of his dirty clothes because god forbid he contribute anything to this house and take any weight off my already drowning shoulders. i bury my face into my hands and curl up on my sofa, after sitting like this for a few minutes i decide to sit up and distract myself, flipping through a few tv channels to find a decent one.

i wonder why i’m even here, i was only meant to be in gravity falls temporarily, after my mother decided i was too much for her, she shipped me off to live with my aunt for the summer- aunty suz, or as the locals called her, lazy suzan. she ran a diner, which i helped out with as my keep, and there i met the twins. i felt like mable understood me, she really helped me deal with my mental health and overcome it all. she was my bestfriend- until i fell for him. i made the stupid mistake of choosing bill cipher, a living breathing demon, over my bestfriend. and now i’m stuck in this hell hole- gravity falls.

“loving boyfriend my ass..” i mumbled, throwing the tv remote to the ground in frustration.

“what about me were you saying, peach?” he smirks, materialising out of no where, with a snarky expression.

“what the fuck have you been doing all day cipher? i work my ass off and i come home to the house a state?” i plead, standing up to be someone as tall as the floating figure.

“woah woah woah, don’t be so aggressive peach, calm it and remember who you’re speaking to,” he warns, i laugh at him.

“i do everything for you cipher, i have up my life for you and this is the thanks i get? no support, messing with my home and threats? i have every right to be angry at you, you always do this!”

“do what exactly, peach?” his eyes narrow at me, staring me down.

“fuck me over! you expect to be fed, even though you don’t need to eat and can make anything you want appear but no- i have to supply it for you, to clean in a clean house but it’s fine for you to constantly mess it up, and to leave for days at a time with no warning and then just appear back and expect me to be fine? and treat me like shit!”

“i can do whatever the fuck i want peach, whatever i want-“ he grabs me by the chin, “you listen to me, you’re a puppet in my hands, you’re lucky i’m even giving the time of day. you’re only around because i like you, and you’re so lucky i like you because do you wanna know what would happen if i didn’t?”

…

“you’d be dead, rotting your own personal hell. so show me a little respect? don’t forget your place.”

i push myself away from him, i regretfully look in my eyes, i don’t know what to do, so i just stand there, scared, confused, anxious yet angry.

“i’m going, don’t try and get in my head, i don’t want you there.” i announce, before storming off and grabbing my handbag.

“i’ll never get out of your head, you belong to me remember, you’re nothing without me.” he announced, as though he’s just next to me but he isn’t. i’m in the car, applying as much pressure to the accelerator as i can- and he’s no where near me. he’s in my fucking head again. i have no space, no boundaries, i’m not just me, i’m him too- and i have no choice. i can’t escape.

i break as hard as i can, in the middle of a road, no cars were within a mile radius of me, perks of living i. a quiet town. i scream, a blood curdling scream, my nails clawing into my h/c, tears stream out of my eyes. sobbing uncontrollably i feel an arm snake around me, pulling me close.

he’s shushing me, trying to calm me down as a shriek and cry into his chest, not sure if i should push him away or accept him embrace. his boney hands stroke my h/c and instantly calms me, not by my choice though- the bastard is in my head again.

“i’ve given everything for you bill.” i state, wiping my tears away, a dead look in my eyes.

“i’m sorry peach,” he hugs me tightly, “i know i’m shitty, but i’m so sorry.”

and he just holds me, let’s me stay in his arms, i focus on my breathing, as he plays with my hair, he whispers a small ‘i love you’ in my ear, i hum back to him, too exhausted to process what’s really happened.

i wake up in my bed, changed into my favourite fleecy pyjamas, a very worried demon next to me.

i yawn, stretching my arms up, turning to him i say “and how did i get here?” my voice a little gruff from sleepiness.

“you don’t think i was going to let you sleep in the car do you? what kinda demon do you think i am?” he replied in his usually snarky yet flirtatious voice.

“ah yes sorry, you’re such the gentleman- how could i forget,” i giggle back at him before rolling away to the other side of the bed.

“i really am sorry y/n, i’m gonna try more, for you peach,”

“i love you bill,”

“i love you more peach,”

a comfortable silence surrounds us, i sigh before deciding to get up, yet just as a i begin to take the duvet off me i get it pulled start back on.

“what’re you thinking for breakfast peach? my treat, you just stay snuggled up in bed,”

“i bought some croissants yesterday, they’re in the cupboard,” i muse, before grabbing my book off the bedside table. bill let’s out a laugh.

“my treat, you just wait and see what i’ve got planned peach!”

[laenaism]

Something that really bothered me about Corlys and Baela’s scene was the fact that Corlys ‘wanted’ to make Baela heir in the first place. Corlys has made it clear he does not value women, in the book and in the show. He was angry Rhaenys was passed over because he himself was also snubbed from that position of power. Corlys has shown no care for either of his children, he married both Laenor and Laena off with no care for their safety (you cannot tell me he didn’t have some hand in Laena marrying Daemon, at least in the show). All he truly cared about was his ambition which unfortunately is something that can be said for a lot of men in this universe. He loved Rhaenys, but Corlys definitely valued himself and his needs over everyone else in his life, all that matter was what he wanted. He only told Baela that he wanted to make her heir because that’s what Rhaenys asked of him the night of Laena’s funeral. And you know what happened? Corlys had the audacity to get mad at her for that! He felt guilty, so he decided he would honor Rhaenys and offer Baela the role of being heir. He didn’t actually want her to be so, he didn’t do it as an acknowledgement of her strength or leadership, he did it to honor Rhaenys because she died. He may not outright say it but he values men in a position of power way more than he ever would a woman. If Baela were to have accepted (which I believe she should have considering she has a better claim than Addam or Alyn) no doubt Corlys would have tried to worm his way out of it down the line. He was not a good grandfather to his granddaughters, he didn’t even know them, look at the way he spoke of Rhaena! She was Laena’s daughter and you don’t think she knew about ships or dragons? Okay deadbeat… I think Baela turning it down made sense, but I hate the reasoning she gave “I am made of blood and fire, Driftmark must pass to salt and sea,” like she is also made of ‘salt and sea’ 🥴 granted, she’s only a quarter Velaryon, but her mother was literally the only true parent she had before she died, why would she not care about carrying on that legacy? It doesn’t make sense considering Baela is all about family and loyalty. This isn’t hate on her, I love her, but I have to be honest, that line made me cringe lmao. That’s not Baela’s fault though, that’s Ryan Condal and Sara Hess’, fvck those writers! Regardless, Corlys should have offered it to Rhaena first in my opinion, she was going to be Lady of Driftmark with Lucerys, why shouldn’t she still be? Baela was going to be queen, the Lady of Driftmark would have been perfect for Rhaena if Corlys was just going to skip over Joffrey.

(Just a PSA) I’m not denying Baela and Rhaena are Targaryen, I know they are, but there’s no harm in acknowledging their Velaryon side as well. I’ve seen way too many people act like being a Velaryon is an insult and it’s very sus. As long as people aren’t being fvcking racist about it, I love when their mother’s Velaryon side is appreciated (though Laena was Targaryen as well which a lot of people somehow seem to forget considering the fact that Laena was prideful in being a Targaryen). The only reason I’d ever acknowledge them as Velaryon’s is because their mother was their main parental figure before Rhaenys, it was never about their skin color. The people who call them Velaryon’s because of their skin color, that’s when it’s racist and stupid, and unfortunately those people do exist.

[auroracalisto]

colds in the winter — the reader falls ill in the middle of winter, worrying tommy and their son, charlie. tommy even goes as far as taking a day off to keep an eye on her. word count: 803 words tw: colds, slight!ooc tommy?? i feel like it could be interpreted this way, but i’ll leave that up to you to decide, fem!reader a/n: i’m always sick. you now have this as a result. :P also… ignore the totally lame title. LMAO

Winter had fallen upon Birmingham once more. Clouds constantly littered the grey skies, and rain fell far more often than you had liked. Snow would soon litter the grounds of your beloved home.  

Your coat was often glued to your shoulders, buttoned up your body for warmth. Without it, the temperatures would have you freezing, guaranteed to make you sick. However, your attempts of staying remotely healthy fell short of successful.

In a matter of days, the cold weather had taken its toll on you, leaving you lying in bed, staring up at the tall ceiling. Your nose stuffed up, your ears feeling as though they needed to pop. A raging headache had made its way to every corner in your head. The sun peaking through your bedroom curtains did little to soothe your aching body.

Thomas was nowhere to be seen. He must have left sometime in between your off-and-on sleeping that morning. You hadn’t even bothered to check the time, knowing it was well into the day. Thomas surely had been gone for hours.

With a groan, you forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your face with the palms of your hands.

The little patter of feet came rushing towards your bedroom door.  Charlie busted through, a smile on his sweet face.  

“Mum!” he quipped, rushing over to your side.  He reached out to you, expectantly waiting for you to pick him up.  

As you moved to do so, a cough emitted from your throat, soon followed by another, and then another.  You quickly covered your mouth with the inside of your elbow, moving away from Charlie.  You couldn’t risk getting your baby sick.  

“Charlie, what did I tell you?” Thomas said as he rounded the corner, coming into your shared bedroom.  “Leave your mother—“ 

Thomas stopped short as he heard your cough.  

“Are you alright?” he asked, coming over to your side.  “Should I call for a doctor?”

You curtly nodded, squeezing your eyes shut.  

“I had figured you were tired.  Tossing and turning all night,” Thomas frowned, leaning forward to pick up Charlie.  He sat him in his lap.  “I tried to keep him from bothering you, but it seems as though my attempts were futile.”

“You didn’t go to work?” you frowned as you looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head.

“And why is that?” you questioned your husband. He hardly ever missed work. 

He pursed his lips, avoiding your gaze. “I had things I needed to take care of, here.”

“Like?”

“Mrs. Shelby, I did not come here to be interrogated.” he huffed, looking down at Charlie who was just giggling. Charlie looked over at his mother, smiling all the while. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, leaning back against the pillows once more. “Well—” Before you could get a word out, you began to cough once more. You coughed into your elbow, but it only seemed to get worse with each one. 

Thomas quickly put Charlie tell, instructing him to tell the maid to call for the doctor. Charlie nodded and ran off to do as he was told, leaving his father with his sick mother. 

“I do believe this is the reason I stayed home,” he said, coming to your side. He gently pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, frowning. “You are warm. I would say you have a fever.”

“Then you most definitely should not be in here with me.”

He gave you a faint smile. “Mrs. Shelby, you are in no position to tell me what to do.”

You rolled your eyes again, huffing once more. 

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You will be alright.”

“It is merely a cold. No need for the dramatics.”

He grinned, his hand cupping the side of your face. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “I am not leaving your side until the doctor gets here.”

You frowned. “Well that’s preposterous. You should leave. Go to work. You’ve never missed for something so silly before.”

“My wife being sick is silly?” he questioned. 

Perhaps he had a point. He had many loves in the past who left him in a matter of seconds because of things far more drastic than just a cold—but the worry he had was justifiable. 

You sighed softly and closed your eyes. 

“Will you at least lie with me? Instead of hovering over me like that?”

He just smirked, sitting down beside of you. He wrapped an arm around your torso, pulling you close. He knew the maid would warn them before the doctor arrived, so he would have plenty of time to straighten himself up. But for now, he would hold the one woman who made these dastardly winters worth it all, even if he might end up sick as well. 

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it. 

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable. 

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered. 

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he? 

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way. 

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed. 

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done. 

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. ���I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said. 

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me. 

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain. 

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life. 

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

[nicromancytarot]

HOW I GOT STARTED IN TAROT AND MY TIPS FOR ANY OF YOU WHO ARE NEW TO IT!!!

I love to offer advice if you can’t already tell, and I also love tarot, so let’s talk about things that I have learnt from my journey as a tarot reader.

My journey

I started tarot at 14 years old while living with a family member who was shut off to the idea of spirituality, as it had hindered the life of my own mother, and caused her mental health issues in the past.

I decided to go against their requests and start practicing in secret, I didn’t have my own income so I wasn’t able to buy my own deck, instead I decided to make one. (Tarot is a tool, you don’t need “actual” tarot cards to be able to read.)

I used old train tickets that I had since I would take a couple of trains 5 days a week, which would give me 1, if not 2 tickets per day.

I was mainly focused on love, so I created little tarot cards with small details about love on them, and I would use these on my friends just for a bit of fun.

Eventually these got taken away from me, so just after my 16th birthday, after not doing tarot for around 3 months at that time, I decided to buy my first tarot deck as I was now living back with my mother, and although she was sceptical about the idea, she allowed me to have my first deck and supported my journey as I dove deeper into divination.

I practiced every so often, one time I had a crush on this guy and I wanted to know how he felt about me, every spread I got for him would give me the 4 of cups… yeah, I used to think that meant he was just a little demotivated, until I realised like a year later that it meant he was absolutely not interested in me, lmao!

But this is good, learning always comes with mistakes, so do not let that discourage you.

My decks

- the Rider-Waite tarot (my main deck)

- Spirit song tarot (my favourite deck)

- (I had a purple one that I spiritually didn’t need, so it went missing and never returned like a week after I got it)

- Ethereal visions tarot

- The nightmare before christmas tarot

- Angels of abundance oracle

- Casanova tarot (for 18+)

I also use little pieces of paper that I wrote 18+ stuff on, which I now use for any explicit readings to highlight the things someone would do to my collective sexually!

Having multiple decks

I personally love having this many decks, and I 100% will be getting more, as soon as I’ve finished learning the meanings of some of the casanova tarot!

Tarot is a tool, sometimes I read explicit stuff off my main deck, and I still get very accurate messages using that, you do not need to splash out on extra decks to try and read one specific theme.

I enjoy having multiple decks as they’re all just so beautiful, and I feel blessed to be able to have them.

Having one of my decks fall off the face of the earth a year and a half ago, proved to me that I needed to really make sure that I wanted a deck and felt connected to it before buying. This deck itself was 1 actually instinctively didn’t want to buy, but went back to get for other reasons.

So don’t impulsively buy, if it’s meant for you, you’ll know.

How I do my readings

If I decide that I need to cleanse my own energy, I will do a 15-30 minute meditation, but I normally only feel called to do so when I’m doing a really intense reading that I feel I need to protect my energy from.

I start off with a simple affirmation, welcome my spirits to help guide me through the session.

“I am calling upon my ancestors and spirit guides to make sure I am protected during this reading, and that I get the most accurate and concise messages.”

Then I knock on the deck twice before doing 1 shuffle thrice, knocking twice and doing the final shuffle thrice, knocking twice.

That is my own personal way of cleansing my deck after other energies have been channelled through it. I let my decks rest with some crystals every night, and they see the moon when it’s full for an extra cleanse.

I personally find the knocking to be very simple and cleansing for my cards, and it has proved well.

After I’m done cleaning, I ask my spirits the question out loud, and then I knock twice before shuffling to get the spread.

I only take 1-2 cards at a time, if there’s more, I put them back and start shuffling again.

If no cards fall after a while, I do a final shuffle and pull from the top.

The spread varies for every reading, normally I pull around 15 cards from my main deck, and then I pull an animal from the Spirit song tarot deck, and sometimes around 12 from another deck if there’s anymore questions needing to be answered.

When reading for other people, I personally only pull upright, unless we’re doing yes or no questions (which I do upright for yes and reverse for no), I’m not a fan for reverses, although I’ve started off with them, I just find it easier to do only uprights.

I pull reverses for educational purposes when I do my own readings, that way I can make sure I learn them more than I already do, and so I can get quicker with identifying them.

As of the beginning of April 2024 I started a new spread, this is my new favourite one for mainly advice readings or something to do with the future.

I like to grab 16 cards, you can take 15, but 16 is my personal number, then I line all the cards up into 3 groups, until I pin the negative cards, this is just something I do instinctively (doesn’t have to be death, tower etc, it could literally be the 2 of cups which seems negative in the reading), on the left I set up the negative ones, and then I add a present feeling or reaction card to do with these negative things, then between the negative and feelings, I put a card to describe why the person feels like that. Then for the rest I basically branch down like the roots of a tree, it’s very sporadic and random, but it creates a story, whichever card is next to another relates to the situation, thoughts and feelings of those cards, then when you get to the right bottom side, you end up with the future energy.

LEFT —> past MIDDLE —> present RIGHT —> future

Random things that I believe in

- The star and the 4 of cups are connected, the 4 of cups represents being fussy and ungrateful, and in the the Rider-Waite tarot, the illustrations are all connected, the star happens in front of the tree which is where the 4 of cups is set, so I like to think that the star is letting go of fussiness and allowing yourself to be free.

- Death and moon are connected, death tends to talk about something you need to let go of, and you already intuitively know about it. This is since death happens in front of the moon.

- The temperance happens in front of the tower, so when you pull the temperance, it means to make a decision before the universe makes it for you, bringing you a tower moment. A good example for this is pulling it in a “how does he feel about me” reading, if you get the tower during this, I would say he feels like you’re his last option, like a plan B if his A falls through. (People hate when I tell them that.)

- The queen of cups represents stability, this is since in the the Rider-Waite tarot, she’s chilling on her throne on a small island, meanwhile the king of cups is floating in the water, showing to me that he’s just going with the flow (weirdly, when I see the king of cups, I associate him with Aquarius energy.)

- The empress is all about loud and proud energy, she’s totally the one to boast about her achievements and what she’s working on, knowing that she will succeed. The emperor is the opposite, he works in silence, he only tells everyone about his newest achievements after he’s sure about them, he likes for people to be in surprise over his success.

- If I pull some cards to check energy for the reading, and the emperor upright, or the empress in reverse comes out, probably means the person I’m reading for isn’t ready to hear this message. This is because the emperor is physical (3D) realm energy, meanwhile the empress is spiritual (4D) energy, this is because spirituality is feminine energy, if you take part in spirituality, you are tapping into your devine feminine.

- The knight of wands represents exes. The night is going to the left (the past), the wand represents fire, fiery passion/fiery ending.

Does this mean my spread may be explained differently if the illustrations are different?

In short, yes. I love symbolism with my whole heart, so when I can make something symbolic out of the illustrations on the deck to describe a reading, I absolutely will.

What does channelling and visualising look like for me?

On a good day, I’ll hear another voice that sound identical to my little internal narrator inside my head, this can be identified as my spirit guides. They will use this to tell me things I need to know, but clairvoyance isn’t really my strongest, so normally I just hear the word “catapult” over and over again, since my main spirit guide seems to love that word.

I honestly channel the most through writing, it’s like I gain so much more information when I start writing down readings, whether it’s in my notes, on tumblr, or in a notepad.

Visualising is interesting, again back with the symbolism, it comes to me in a little story for me to unfold and find a moral of, it’s very time consuming, and I often get confused and think I’m insane, so I’ll pull some cards on it just to be sure I have the story right.

Important notes

- communicate to your spirit guides, I like to tell them exactly how the reading is going to go, just so they understand the format and what, I am looking for.

- Don’t do readings when you don’t feel like you should, if you’re mentally not doing ok, don’t feel bad if you need to step back and away from it, forcing yourself will just give you confusing readings.

- Your spirits hide answers from you, one time I asked my spirit guides how life works, and they refused to tell me (and then had a silly moment and told me like 3 months later for whatever reason.)

- This is not future telling, I cannot tell you what your future will be like, but I can tell you what it might be like if you make certain decisions.

- Don’t use tarot to intrude on someone’s personal life, like no sex readings on your ex for the love of God.

- If a reading doesn’t resonate with you, remember what it said and then come back to it to see if it does now, an example of this was when someone gave me a past life reading that didn’t match up until I reversed it and realised that I was the second person in the reading, rather than the main.

- Have fun with readings, it shouldn’t feel like a chore.

- Allow yourself to make mistakes, that’s the only way you will improve.

- Be patient, don’t think you will know everything about tarot after like 1 week of learning it.

- There’s always more to learn when it comes to tarot, you will never have enough knowledge.

- You can buy yourself decks, even your first one. You don’t need to have another person buy it for you.

I hope you enjoyed this! It took me an hour to write up lmao, but I had fun.

[kyojurismo]

★ PROLOGUE

# sub!kyojuro rengoku x fem!reader

summary : your behaviour is starting to change towards him, but kyojuro fears this is only his imagination and that you’re simply lonely and finding a way to enjoy yourself. is there a possibility that you’re actually attracted to him?

chapter tags : sfw, mitsuri makes an appearance, mention of rengoku family, i can’t think of anything else so lemme know if i missed something, 1.6k words — i’ll try to write more for future chapters, pray for me lol.

series masterpost

a/n : hello! i’m both excited and scared to post this lol, writing series and longer fics in general it’s not my forte, so please please please be kind and keep in mind that english is not my first language. i know there’s nothing spicy or truly entertaining — i was lowkey testing the water lmao — but i hope you guys enjoy it anyway <3 ps. lemme know if you wanna be added to my say yes to heaven taglist to be sure to not miss something.

a young, rich woman without a husband? of course people would speculate about it. that’s what your mother used to repeat. because rich women were always seen under a different light.

but, you didn’t care. you never searched for a husband, you knew your worth and that you didn’t need a man to take care of you.

the only man you were able to tolerate was your precious servant, kyojuro rengoku. kyojuro had been working for you for almost three months now, he was a loyal, caring and educated young man. he was working hard to help his family, and nothing seemed to distract him from work.

at least for now.

─────────────────────

the fact that you could work from home was a real blessing. you weren’t a lazy person, you just enjoyed being around him most of the time.

kyojuro was a simple guy. he was always smiling and his voice sounded so comforting and soothing whenever he spoke, whatever the topic. he would be able to smile back at a bully and kindly ask him to not vent their anger on others. that was truly amazing.

his personality was able to overshadow his appearance. no doubts he was an attractive young man, but the moment he started interacting with you – oh, you completely forget about his pretty face. you could ask anyone, they would all reply with the same thing.

you were sitting at the table in your dining room, patiently waiting for your usual breakfast. your eyes were scanning the first pages of the newspaper, devouring the fresh news for the day, when the doors opened. he walked in and served you quietly, before bowing and taking a couple of steps back so he could stay close enough to you if you needed anything, but not that much close to disturb your peaceful breakfast.

“did you sleep well last night, kyojuro?” you suddenly asked him, keeping your gaze focused on the page as you took the first bite of your food. “yes, ma’am,” here came his voice. “i’m glad. as you know, we had to move your room closer to mine for a couple of electrical issues,” from kyojuro’s perspective your tone showed a bit of annoyance, but in reality a part of you was glad that side of your house had been left without light until someone could come to fix the cables. “i understand, but you don’t have to worry about me, ma’am,” he smiled even though he was standing behind you. “i’m happy with everything you decide.”

oh, really?

“now that i think about it, i have a bunch of commissions in town. i’d like for you to accompany me, if that’s alright,” you let a small smirk curve your lips when he hesitated; it was the first time you asked him something like that, after all. could it be a challenge?

“m-ma’am, i’d gladly accompany you but—” you interrupted him, knowing that he was gonna explain he had to stay here since it was his role in the first place. “kyojuro, i’m not really asking for you approval,” your tone sent a shiver down his spine and he cleared his throat. “i will gladly come with you.”

“good boy,” you turned your head to glance at kyojuro and show him a smile, before turning to finish eating your breakfast. that caused you to miss the faint blush appearing on his cheeks at your praise. it was the most casual thing to say, but somehow kyojuro found very pleasurable to hear you say it.

one thing for sure, you weren’t that dumb. you noticed that after such period of service, kyojuro craved your praises whenever he did something for you. it made him feel good and sent a pleasant feeling through his whole body. all this from just the thought of making you feel satisfied with his work.

would you be able to get something more from him at this point?

─────────────────────

you were staring out the window quietly, watching with little interest the people and the buildings passing by. “i’ve never been in this part of the city,” you heard kyojuro’s comment and turned to look at him, catching him staring out with a sweet smile on his face. “i realise you rarely leave the house…” your voice is low but it still reached his ears.

“ma’am, there’s no need for you to feel bad. that’s just my job,” he tilted his head to the side and smiled at you, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. he looked so… adorable.

“i’ll let you come with me more often,” you assured with a smile then grabbed a little notebook with a pen, handing them to him. “you can write down the places you want to visit next time.”

kyojuro was surprised but nodded eagerly, genuinely appreciating it. he indeed wrote down a bunch of places, but the dream of coming here again felt distant to him nonetheless.

when the car stopped, you jumped off followed by him and started walking towards your usual clothes shop. kyojuro glanced around curiously while you looked around for a new elegant dress. “what do you think?” he turned his head to look at you, noticing you were holding a sleeveless dark blue dress into your hands. “u-um, it looks good.”

were you really asking him for advice?

“i’ll try it on then,” you smirked at him and walked towards the dressing rooms section. kyojuro followed you swiftly, in case you would need something.

“i need help with closing the back!” you called from behind the curtain. you waited patiently for him, since he seemed to be quite hesitant to enter inside. it was the first time you asked for something like this. “kyo– oh, i thought you left without me,” you chuckled and watched him from the reflection.

his hands were warm against your skin, as he helped you close the dress. his cheeks were slowly turning red as he timidly glanced at your reflection, your cleavage more visible than usual now. “it looks beautiful,” his smile showed he was a bit embarrassed, but sincere. you turned to face him and smiled, watching him scan your figure. “yeah… really beautiful.”

you laughed before patting his arm playfully. “relax! you’re so tensed,” you exclaimed while turning around. you glanced at yourself into the mirror, it was indeed a beautiful dress. “i’m gonna buy this one then,” you announced, satisfied.

you then started taking the dress off before catching his eyes into the mirror. “are you waiting for a show?” you smirked at him and kyojuro’s eyes widened while his whole face turned red, quickly followed by his ears. “i-i’m sorry!” he was quick to exit and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

you found yourself enjoy teasing him. his reactions were cute. in fact, you kept doing it for the whole day. the mischievous touches whenever you were sitting next to each others, the compliments clearly going further that of a friendly relationship between a servant and his madam. kyojuro was left speechless most of the time, with red cheeks and his heart close to jump out of his chest.

but was it real or was it all in his head though?

─────────────────────

“no way!” mitsuri jumped in her seat, looking at her friend. “oh, kyojuro!” she grabbed his hands, making him gasp. “what are you gonna do about it?” he frowned at her words. “nothing?”

it was his day off work and kyojuro always tried to meet up with mitsuri, one of his childhood best friends.

mitsuri glared at him, almost offended. “what do you mean by that?!” she hit his chest, exasperated with him. “she’s clearly enjoying your company and there might be something more going on between you and her. take this opportunity!”

“i would never take advantage of her like that,” kyojuro’s tone was serious. “i work for her, she probably just feels lonely and that’s her way to have some fun. i can’t blame her at all. plus…” his voice trailed off. “plus??” mitsuri waited expectantly for him to continue. “i like getting her attention, so i don’t really want to ruin anything,” he confessed it in a very low tone, mitsuri had to lean closer to hear him clearly.

“ooh, i knew it!” she clapped her hands happily and smiled sweetly at him. “alright, do as you please… but lemme know if something changes!” she made him promise, showing him her pinkie. “don’t worry, nothing will happen between me and her,” he said while raising his own pinkie, locking them together. “a girl can dream!”

kyojuro found himself smile then while listening to her rambling about some sweet guy working with her, as they kept sitting at the restaurant table enjoying their lunch together. she was a very lively person and was usually seen smiling most of the time. he enjoyed her company and was happy to be her friend.

after that, kyojuro would usually visit his family and give them his monthly payment, making sure they could easily afford any kind of costs. he was mostly working to help them, after all.

you never took advantage of his need to work, you actually admired him. not many would do the same and kyojuro was really a son to be proud of. you hoped his father was aware of such thing. you were for sure and, deep down, a part of kyojuro wanted you to be proud of him…

taglist : @vampcubus @naomi-nana @stuckinthewrongworld @doumadono @unear7hly @frickinsleepdeprived @roseofthevolturi @mioblobby @thedevilishlyangelic @ilysm-akari

[onboardsorasora]

34 year old Daniel in the 90s is basking in his parents love and teasing Michelle. A part of him doesn’t want to return to 2024 because he hasn’t been able to be home like this since he was 17 and left for Italy

Decided to hop to it lmao. for you bestie!

De-Aged Daniel | De-Aged Daniel Pt2 | De-Aged Daniel Pt3 | De-Aged Daniel Pt 4 | De- Aged Daniel Pt 5 | De-Aged Daniel Part 6 | De-Aged Daniel Part 7 | De-Aged Daniel Part 8 | De-Aged Daniel Part 9 | De-Aged Daniel Part 10 |

Daniel sat in the far corner of the breakfast nook watching with soft eyes as his mother went about preparing lunch. It had come as a shock; one minute he was putting on his race boots to jump into the sim and the next he was standing in the yard. 

His father had come running immediately, having seen it all happen. How his five year old self had been cycling around the yard before he– well no one really knew how it happened, but Daniel was standing there instead. He’d bitten back the joke about thankfully being fully clothed, he didn’t think his parents would have appreciated it.

It had been very emotional. Very surprising. Michelle had run away to her room– fair. Grace had cried immediately, pulling him into a tight hug. Joe had stared at him with something akin to pride. 

Now Daniel sat in the kitchen reeling off random facts about the future. Things he always told himself he’d remember to tell his parents if he ever got sent back to the past.

“Oh, invest in Apple. They probably aren’t on the stock exchange now but when they pop up– trust me.” He sipped his tea as Grace laughed.

“How about you tell us other things than insider trading.” Joe grinned.

“Well, what do you want to know?” Daniel put his mug down with a clank.

“I know there’s a bunch of shite you’re not allowed to tell us. But what’s there to know about grown up Daniel Ricciardo? Your accent is different, did you move away?”

“Actually,” Daniel smiled softly. “Yeah I did. I became a formula one driver. And I needed to move to Italy to do it.”

Daniel felt his chest warm at the shock on his parents’ face, how they looked him over carefully as if taking in this new information and trying to see how such a high paced career would have changed him from their precious baby boy.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Joe muttered, “thats fucking amazing. For which team? Ferrari?”

“Well no, they never officially gave me a contract. But– well my team doesn’t exist yet. But they’re fast, currently the world champions. I won 7 races with them.” Daniel smiled proudly when Grace came over to hug him tightly.

“I’m so proud of you baby waby.” 

Daniel felt his chest clench and tears spring to his eyes. He hadn’t heard that endearment in so long, it brought back memories of wonderful times.

“I love you too mummy wummy.” his voice cracked when he said it and Grace held him tighter. When she finally let go, Daniel got up to clutch Joe tightly. Not one to go without his father’s hugs, he didn’t see why he should start now.

“Gosh, I miss you guys.” Daniel muttered. Grace frowned.

“Do you spend a lot of time away?”

“Too much. You guys come to some races too, but– it's still a lot of travel at the end of the day.” He had to bite his tongue to keep from mentioning Isaac and Isabella.

“Where were you before you Exchanged?” Joe asked after a bit.

“Oh I was at work, so little me is probably with Blake right now. Poor sucker, he has to deal with adult me and little me. I hope I terrorize him a little.” Daniel giggled, thinking about all the chaos his small counterpart could be unleashing right now on his long time friend.

“Don’t be mean, you weren’t that terrorizing.” Grace would never hear a slight against her baby, not even from him himself.

“They say it's not always an even exchange, you seek out what makes you most comfortable. So if not Blake, where would you go?” Joe asked and they watched as Daniel grow soft and bite his lip.

“Max. Probably.” 

“Who’s Max?”

“He’s… everything.”

[twstbookclub]

mc in epel & rook's fic is my spirit animal fr, love how you protray rook and epel

... could you write about pining (and desperate) vil? 👀

oh my god, thank you! i try my best thinking about how the guys would act whenever i write them, so seeing you say that... i'm just really happy right now ;; i also try really, really hard to make a unique mc for each fic. with how the boys are though, it's hard to try and put in an mc who's not a fighter in a way.

also!! thank you for giving me the chance to write for vil. i was a bit stuck on what i want for him, until you came along. when i think of vil being desperate and pining for someone, he'd be the type to find excuses to be with them lmao. just use his position as housewarden and his acting skills, and you got yourself a vil who can fool anyone into thinking he has no ulterior motives to be with the one he likes. well, except for rook. as a man who has the pride of a professional, he wouldn't let anyone know he's weak for them.

anyway, i hope you enjoy this! this was inspired by how much i want vil to do my makeup, and for all the times my friend did my makeup. i had so much fun writing this, hehe.

you have no idea how tempted i was to write vil as blatantly desperate and pining for the mc the entire time.

Of Makeup and Subtlety

Summary: You should've known that you'd have to follow Pomefiore's rules during your stay there. Although... does Vil really need to do your makeup? Why is it taking so long? POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender Neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa 🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romance, Makeup Session, Vil Schoenheit being Lowkey Touch-Starved and Desperate, Mention of a Sleeping Grim Word Count: 1,788

“Hold still,” Vil clicked his tongue, pressing the chub of your cheeks between his thumb and index finger. “You’re going to ruin all of my hard work if you don’t stop squirming.”

You grumbled and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You two have been sitting before the vanity mirror for hours. Yesterday, Vil insisted on doing your makeup for today, and the pity on Epel’s face said it all.

You decided to ignore the ominous smile that stretched across Rook's face—as if he knew something you didn’t.

You knew Vil long enough to know how much he took his beauty routine seriously. The man wouldn’t even budge when you told him about the possibility of being tardy to class. He needed to do his and your makeup, after all.

“Then, we wake up at dawn,” Vil said, looking at you with that determined fire in his eyes. “Come now, Prefect. While you’re under my care in Pomefiore, you have to look your best. I won’t let one smudge of lipstick stain our dorm’s reputation when it comes to beauty.”

That’s what he said. Now, you’re stuck awkwardly sitting in front of Vil as he held your face. Your chin rested on the web space between his thumb and index finger. The regal blond frowned and squeezed your cheeks once you scowled.

“Vil, it’s the ass crack of dawn. You woke me up earlier than expected, and you know I’m not a morning person.”

The sun laid dormant, the beginning of dawn as silent as the Pomefiore Dorm. No sane person would wake up at this hour, except for Vil apparently. The housewarden in question huffed, whether in amusement or exasperation was beyond you. His grip on you softened as he dabbed and slid the makeup sponge over your cheeks. Despite your grievances, it didn’t deter Vil at all. He kept applying the liquid foundation like a mother ignoring her child’s tantrum.

“I’ve told you beforehand, yet you refused to sleep early—” Vil shot you a deadpan look as he continued pressing the sponge on your skin— “Like I suggested.”

You shrunk in your seat, feeling small from Vil’s scolding. He sighed, blinking the annoyance away from his eyes. A calm, almost calculated, gleam took its place. He set the sponge aside with a pleased smile as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“I knew I bought the right shade for you.”

You owlishly blinked, brows raising high at Vil’s words. “When did you even find time to get the right shade?”

“Just yesterday.” Vil hummed, the pleased smile turning into a self-satisfied one. “Never underestimate my eyes. One look at you, and I could tell which shade and colors compliment your skin.”

You swore you felt Vil’s fingers tense on your jaw. Maybe it was because he had to keep your face still from all your talking. A defeated sigh escaped you as you slightly shook your head.

“Alright, alright. Can we please finish this already?” You grumbled, fidgeting in your seat. “I might get pins and needles if I stay like this any longer.”

Vil rolled his eyes and twisted the cap of the concealer open with a flourish. “One cannot rush beauty, Prefect.”

“Professor Crewel’s whip says otherwise.”

Vil’s hand never left your face the entire time. His breath ghosted over your skin every time he leaned close. The gentle stroke of the brush over your closed eyelids; the soft caresses on your cheek as Vil applied the blush; the occasional press of his thumb as he spreads the product on your skin—the blond was lost in his own concentration. Every time his thumb slid across your skin, his touch lingered as his eyes drank in your features. In your honest opinion, he was looking a bit too long for comfort. With either a brief nod or shake of his head, Vil would either add, lessen, or change something in your makeup.

Bottles of foundation, concealer, and creams lined the tabletop. Eyeshadow palettes and compact blushes were left open as he worked his magic. Vil’s pale hand was streaked with color swatches and mixed shades. The stains somehow looked beautiful on his skin, which was surreal. It should be illegal at this point. The sun began to peek over the earth, and streams of sunlight shone through the window of your room. A streak of light revealed a curled-up figure in the shadow of your bed canopy. Somehow, Grim slept through all of your conversations with Vil.

Half of you was jealous of Grim for being able to sleep longer. The other half, though? You’d rather not admit that Vil’s attention and touch felt nice. You’ll take that secret to the grave.

A heavy sigh shifted your focus from the sleeping furball to Vil, brows furrowed and lips pursed. His fingers held your face again, turning it this way and that. The senior must’ve seen something because he picked up the eyeshadow brush again.

“It looks like I missed a spot.” Vil squeezed your cheeks and looked down at you with taut lips. “Be a dear and close your eyes for me?”

“Okay,” you sighed, frustrated and impatient. You bit back any snappy remarks, knowing how much effort Vil put into making you look pretty. It’s been hours, morning has already broken, and he’s not done yet. You have to give him credit, though. Your makeup surprisingly doesn’t feel heavy, even after the excruciatingly long process of putting it on.

You closed your eyes with your hands on your lap. Shuffling reached your ears as Vil’s breath warmed your skin again. Is it because of how hot his breath is, or is it the flush of your cheeks?

The brush swept across one of your eyelids in gentle strokes before the steady press of Vil’s pinky replaced it. After what seemed longer than necessary, Vil finally switched to your other eyelid. The hand on your chin tilted your head upward, still feeling hot from his breath ghosting over your skin. Vil’s thumb caressed your cheek as he did, making your breath hitch at how close he is. Your heart jumped into your throat and, suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Vil told you as his hand left your face. You could hear the pop of a container being opened, then you felt him cup your jaw and tilt your head again. “Slightly open your mouth for me.”

You did as told, feeling something smooth and thick glide across your lips. Trembles wracked your body at how unbelievably close Vil was. The tips of his hair tickled your cheeks, and his breath felt warmer. The hand applying the lip gloss rested on your cheek. You hoped that he couldn't feel how hot your face was at the moment. You almost gnawed your lip if it weren’t for his tight yet comfortable grip on you.

“Smack your lips,” Vil’s stern tone echoed in your ears. You did as told again, biting your pursed lips to stop them from quivering. When your lips made an audible pop, you heard a pleased hum from the blond. Not a moment too soon, multiple sprays of water greeted your face. A setting spray, you remembered Vil calling that tiny bottle of water on the vanity table. Hands held your shoulders and turned you around. Your head spun a little when he said, “You can open your eyes now.”

The moment your eyes fluttered open, you saw a different person in the mirror. Gold glitter dusted your eyelids, framed by your long lashes courtesy of the mascara. The smokey eyeshadow and meticulously drawn eyeliner emphasized the color of your irises. Your blemish-free, dewy face looked back at you with full, glossy lips that parted in surprise. You could barely recognize yourself. Hell, will anyone know this was you when you walked out of Pomefiore?

“I…” You stopped yourself from touching your skin, afraid to wipe off Vil’s hard work. Your hands stayed on your lap as you continued looking in the mirror. Your eyes sparkled and your skin glowed as your room bathed in morning light. You’re not entirely sure if the sparkle was because of the light, but…

“I’m beautiful…”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Vil gaze at you with a smile and something soft, an indecipherable emotion, in his eyes. A whisper in the wind prevented you from pondering about the odd expression.

“You always are.”

Your eyes widened at his words. It seemed like Vil didn’t intend for you to hear it. Before you could speak, Vil gave your shoulders a squeeze and lifted you from the chair. His smile from earlier disappeared, replaced by a pleased and shit-eating grin. You bristled a little, knowing that he’s proud of your reaction and the fact that he was right to do your makeup.

This smug, gorgeous bastard.

“Off you go, Prefect,” Vil hummed, shooing you away from your own room. “Wake Epel up for me, would you? Our dorm’s self-care routine should be starting right now.”

“You already have Rook for that,” you sighed, but started heading towards the freshman’s room anyway. When you reached the door, you paused with your hand on the knob. You pensively bit the inside of your cheek, pride and common courtesy warring in your mind.

“Thank you,” you muttered, glancing at the Pomefiore housewarden over your shoulder, before you hurried out of the room with red ears and long strides.

Still and silent, Vil simply stood in front of the mirror. A smile graced his lips as his eyes softened, adoring and longing. A sigh slips past his lips as his heart slowed to a calm beat. He took the liquid foundation and peered at the manufacture date, the black ink stating its creation from a few months ago. The rest of the containers displayed the same month on their manufacture dates, hidden from plain sight.

“That was close,” Vil chuckled, gripping the bottle tighter, before he placed it back, “I can’t let the prefect know how much I pay attention to them, can I?”

His pride as a professional would be damned if you found out how fond he was of you. After all, it wasn’t easy to scour every shop and boutique for the perfect colors. Nothing less for the person Vil adored and longed for every second of the day.

A sleepy mewl snapped Vil out of his trance. With a sigh, the Queen’s visage returned to its stern beauty as he prepared himself for a grouchy, troublesome Grim. No one could ever know, and it would start with furiously brushing the cat’s fur to distract him from the makeup on the vanity table.

[peachysunrize]

I had tried to take the leaks with a grain of salt, but now I can say that this really really sucks. I'm reading comments calling Aemond disgusting and cheering on Alicent and Helena for "putting him in his place". They gave Daemon a redemption arc just because they want the general audience to root for him at the Gods Eye. Well, jokes on them, I’ll stan Aemond even more. They glossed over b&c as much as possible and no one gives a shit about baby Jaehaerys. Alicent's character is destroyed beyond repair. Team Green is destroyed. The writers are so biased in favor of TB and girboss Rhae Rhae that season 3 is going to be unwatchable. I had such high hopes and now I'm just tired. The actors were great, it's not their fault. Ewan had the bare minimum of screen time and managed to make me empathize with his character, often without even having a line. But if the script is shit the actors can't do anything about it and you can't expect much from writers who write lines like the one about Aegon's cock and the goatfuckers slur. Ultimately, the thing I liked the most about this season, aside from a bunch of scenes, was the press tour, especially all the Tom and Ewan’s interviews. And the fanfics of course. 💚

Since you mentioned everything, I’ll go ahead and give my two cents on the episode (if you want later the whole season in another one) in this post

There are many things that bugged me this episode.

First things first I’m gonna start with Aegon cause I’ve seen so little of him on my dash today.

Aegon is an underdog. He didn’t want to become king, yet here he is! The cost of it was nearly his life by the hands of his brother. He has to feel betrayed and tossed aside, which he is in fact, but what did we get from him? His dick is like a sausage on a spot. Right. Because there aren’t ANY other factors to talk about, the writers decided to give us yet anotherrrrr disgusting hypersexualizing moment that Aegon talks about his DICK while Larys is saying important things.

About Helaena

I get that they’ve made her into this autistic sweet girl and I’ll stand by her side, but… doesn’t she have a motherly instinct AT ALL? I mean yeah Alicent is the only mother she has seen in her life, but like your son was beheaded in front of you, why don’t you want to idk even SCREAM? The cause your brother is fighting for, THE CAUSE YOUR SON WAS BEHEADED FOR, needs your help…

Aemond

I’ve talked about his scene with Helaena on the balcony, but I’ll say it again; Aemond showing weakness means he is DEEPLY disturbed and troubled. He is desperate to grasp at any chance he can to bring someone on his side because he has no one, absolutely no fucking person, and he has to fight for his and his family’s life ALONE! The same family who ran away and left the war THEY caused for him to deal with. I would have been so angry Dragonstone would melt without me even setting it on fire. HE. IS. ALONE. Even if he didn’t burn Aegon do you think he would have taken Aemond’s side??? He would keep humiliating him, but they are siblings, AND NOW HIS MOTHER AND SIBLINGS HAVE LEFT HIM TO DEAL WITH THIS MESS ALL BY HIMSELF!! The only person he’ll have is Daeron but they probably wouldn’t meet.

Alicent

I don’t even know where to start lmao… The fact that in season one she was ready to MURDER Rhaenyra for Aemond, but now she hates him so much she has to flee from him to RHAENYRA and spoil his plans and OPENING THE GATES FOR HER— not to mention how she fucking nodded at “a son for a son” as if Jaehaerys’ death is totally forgotten (probably has). SHE GAVE RHAENYRA — THE FRIEND WHO ONCE HELD LOVE FOR ME (the fact that she doesn’t even know if she still has affection for her is soooo funny like girl stop wilding and sit and think) — HER ELDEST CHILD!!!!!!!!!! THE CHILD SHE HAD TO GIVE BIRTH TO AT 15!!!! THE SAME CHILD SHE WAS RAPED FOR AND ANOTHER WOMAN WAS CUT OPEN FOR— I CANT begin how furious she made me. Nothing can make me like her again, not when she chose Rhaenyra whose friendship with ended the moment Luke took Aemond’s eye over her children.