#it took him a year to get all the stuff dealt with and then he faked his own death and then he spend two more years trying to find any-

[cuntwrap--supreme]

In a cruel twist of fate, I finally convince the guy I've had a thing for forever to come over to my house and he has ED.

[yoshiintheweb]

Having OC Thoughs, I love them so much.

But why oh why right now when i have exams for two weeks

[sttoru]

“AS IF THE MEMORIES HAVE A HEART THAT ONLY BEATS AT NIGHT.”

༄ sypnosis. your boyfriend is on a business trip, yet always finds the time to call you at night. though, this time he’s lonely and in need of comfort.

༄ note. inspired by one of mahmoud darwish’s poems plus by my love for this man. sigh he’s so pretty. excuse me if this is too sappy.

༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. pet names such as ‘sweet, love, baby, babe, angel”. satoru is clingy. this is just uhh, fluff and sprinkles of angst + reverse comfort. spoilers jjk manga (stuff w/ suguru & toji).

“what are you doing,” “where are you,” and “who’s with you,”

satoru, as always, didn’t give you the chance to greet him properly once you picked up his call. your boyfriend was sent on a mission overseas and has been calling you every night since.

he says it’s to ‘hear your pretty voice’ and because he apparently ‘can’t survive without hearing it at least once a day’.

“satoru— love, calm down.” you chuckle softly, putting the call on speaker before going back to eat your dinner.

you hear the sorcerer let out a small whine over the phone, “my bad, sweet. you know i always look forward to speaking with you.”

you hum lightly in response. satoru has always had the habit to call you whenever he misses you even in the slightest of amounts.

some may find that annoying, however you’re aware that you are the only person satoru can rely on at the end of the day. that’s exactly why you try your best to answer all of his phone calls.

“how’d the mission go?” you ask after swallowing a bite of your food.

“pfft, the usual. dealt with some annoying curses that’ve been plaguing the area.” your boyfriend groans; he wished he didn’t have to take care of his duties so he could be with you all the time.

satoru just wanted to hold you in his arms, cuddle you, shower you with love, take you out on cute dates and spoil you with all kinds of gifts. his responsibilities as a teacher and as the strongest sorcerer constantly got in the way of that simple dream.

“good work, baby. you did well today.” you reply, earning a small ‘i-know-i-did’ huff from your boyfriend.

“thanks,” satoru adds, his voice muffled. it sounded like he had some food in his mouth, which you easily guessed was something sweet, “you know.. i was thinking about us— eh, you in particular.”

a silence falls over the phone afterwards. it was like satoru gave you a moment to process his words before he continues.

“well, when do you not think about me?” you snicker.

you couldn’t see it, but satoru rolled his eyes at your comment before letting a chuckle escape his lips, “hey! was trying to create a sentimental mood there.”

“but, i guess— yeah. true.” your words were the truth; satoru was a hopeless man when it came to you. you’ve invaded his thoughts, his heart and even his soul.

“anyways,” your boyfriend continues, pausing slightly to swallow the snack in his mouth, “i know i say this every day, but i wish you were here with me.”

you stop chewing on your food as soon as you hear the slight change of tone in satoru’s voice. you immediately knew that he needed you at the moment.

“mhm, i know,” you reply quietly. you wanted to let him get it all out before comforting him properly with your words.

satoru took that short answer as a sign to keep talking and opening up about his feelings to you.

“it’s just,” he sighs defeatedly, “actually, i don’t know. i guess being alone during times like these really gets to me.”

satoru stared at the ceiling as he laid on his back. his phone was on the pillow right next to his head, also on speaker.

when he’s with you, it’s easy to forget about all kinds of gloomy thoughts that may enter his mind. all satoru has to do is focus his attention on you and he won’t have any time to dwell on such stuff.

however when he’s alone, he’s left with his own brain and the thoughts that ate away at him ever since the inevitable incident with toji a few years ago.

suguru. amanai.

rustling sounds; satoru’s moving positions on his bed to somehow focus on your voice again.

“i guess it’s also because it’s unknown what the future holds.” satoru pauses. this time the pause was for him to collect his thoughts.

you knew what he meant by that; satoru had went through a few traumatic events over the years. he’s faced betrayal, loss and death ever since he was a teenager.

even if he doesn’t say nor show it, satoru is scared of what the future holds for him. especially with you in the picture now— he doesn’t want you to change or disappear on him. the thought alone makes his heart ache.

“..hey, can you promise me one thing, angel?” satoru eventually speaks up again, his voice a hushed whisper over the phone.

“of course. what is it?” you answer softly.

a third and short silence falls between you again.

“promise me that you’ll stay safe.” satoru sounds like he’s desperately trying to keep his tone neutral, however you could sense some vulnerability in there.

now that you’re thinking about it, you’ve never seen or heard satoru cry out in sadness or distress. though you know for sure that those feelings are building up somewhere inside of him. it’s only a matter of time before they need to be released.

“i promise,” you start in a comforting tone, “i promise i’ll stay safe, satoru.”

you could hear your boyfriend sigh in relief. just a small promise like that was enough to calm him down a little. for now, that is.

“i’ve failed many people before,” satoru continues, still trying to keep the tone of his voice neutral, “however, i will not fail you.”

you nod to yourself. the rest of your dinner was getting cold as you used your chopsticks to absentmindedly poke the rice while listening to satoru over the phone.

“you’re too important for me to lose,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, “if it ever comes to that.. i don’t know what i’ll do.”

satoru actually doesn’t know how he’ll react or what he’ll do if you—the only person worth fighting for—would leave him; will all the thoughts come crashing down on him and cause him to finally break down?

he doesn’t know. nor does he want to find out. ever.

“don’t you worry, love.” you answer, “i hereby promise you that i won’t leave your side any time soon.”

you sigh, a small smile on your face which satoru couldn’t witness. you figured to cheer him up with your own words— it felt like he needed a mix of distraction and comfort at the moment and that’s what you wanted to give him.

“i’m not going anywhere. you’re completely and utterly stuck with me for now.” you playfully warn him, putting emphasis on the two words, “there’s no backing out of this, ‘toru.”

the sorcerer couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your last remark; you always knew how to make him feel better in an instant. that’s why he loved you to death,

“make that forever and we have a deal.”

“fiiine,” you reply in an over exaggerated tone before giggling, “forever it is. don’t get bored of me any time soon then.”

“oh, don’t you worry, angel.” satoru chuckles, sighing the stress away in one deep breath, “i’ll never get bored of my favourite girl. never in a million years.”

he sits up on his bed before standing up and walking to the window of his hotel room. satoru looked outside while grabbing another snack from a nearby table.

the sky was beautiful; it reminded him of you, though your beauty was no match for the sky. you were prettier than nature itself.

“satoru.” you call out to him over the phone and he immediately snaps back to reality.

“yeah, baby?” he replies, unwrapping his chocolate bar with one hand in the meantime.

“be reaaaal honest with me. like really honest.” a grin forms on your face as you thought of what to say next.

“you know i always speak the truth with you,” satoru mutters with a smile while putting a piece of chocolate in his mouth, “go on.”

“how many of those chocolate bars have you eaten today?”

the question caught satoru off guard and he instantly stops chewing.

satoru turns his head to the left and then to the right, eyes narrowed and body in a defensive stand like somebody was going to attack him any time soon.

“wh— the hell? how did you know? don’t tell me you’ve been secretly watchin’ me the entire time.”

you could already picture the way he’s probably checking his entire hotel room at the moment. your poor boyfriend may be strongest, but not when it comes to such silly ‘scary’ stuff. it’s adorable.

“babe, you never go a day without eating that one specific chocolate bar.” you giggle softly, taking another bite of your own food, “i’ve come to know your eating habits by now.”

“that so?” satoru grins to himself as he puts another piece in his mouth, “what am i thinking at the moment then? if you know me so well.”

you roll your eyes and get up to put your dishes away, taking your phone with you to the sink. “hmm.. well let me think.”

“take all the time you need, baby.”

satoru constantly tells you that you’re always on his mind, so you figured that this time wouldn’t be any different.

you know it’d probably be something sappy that’ll make you both giggle uncontrollably.

“maybe, something like—“ you start in a teasing tone, “i don’t know, uhh— ‘i love you?’”

there it goes; the uncontrollable giggles and laughter that fill both of your ears. it felt like you were two young teenagers in love again.

“damn, i’m really that predictable, huh?” satoru eventually says, trying to catch his breath as his tummy started to hurt from laughing so much.

“nah. i’d say it’s the power of love.”

another fit of laughter follows.

so, the night went on and on; going from discussions about random stupid stuff to deep philosophical conversations and back to the cheesy, lovey dovey remarks.

and of course, the call wouldn’t end without a direct and sleepy ‘i love you’ from your dear boyfriend.

[nsharks]

I don’t know if your taking request, but if you’re not please ignore me.! But my request is Simon kid got a tantrum and Simon is comforting them🥺 (Please excuse my English. It’s not my native language </3)

oh honey you are totally fine! and I love this request so I had to do it right away <3

simon comforts his son during a tantrum

very brief abuse mention

“What do we need the cranberries for, love?”

Simon’s pushing the grocery cart with your son in it. Meanwhile, you drag your feet behind him, your infant daughter asleep in a carrier against your chest. It seems, recently, she prefers sleeping during the day. The evidence of this is clear in the slackness under yours eyes.

Simon was used to preforming on little sleep. It’s easy to say he’s handling the week of regression much better than you are.

“Salad,” you answer numbly. One hand rubs at your eyes, as if that will make them feel any less heavy, and the other hand rests on your daughter’s back. “We’re having that salad I like tonight, remember?”

“Well, gonna have to find something else.” He raises a brow and juts a finger towards the shelf. “All out. Bloody hell, who’s buying cranberries this time o’ year besides you?”

You don’t even have it in you to remind him to watch his language. Sighing, you chew at your lip and offer a small, lazy smile. Having him here, not just to help but to keep you sane, is something you cherish. Even through your lack of your sleep, you savor the moment; grocery shopping with your family.

With Simon’s bare face on display.

In public.

Something you were surprisingly used to now.

It’s funny; you had sex with him, loved him, before you ever saw his face. And now it’s a face that you get to watch bury in your children’s tummies to blow raspberries in the mornings.

“What do you think, bug?” Simon asks the toddler in the cart, touching his little chin. “Maybe salad isn’t the right call for tonight, huh?”

“Don’t get him on your side,” you huff. “You never want my salad.”

“I’d just prefer to eat a real meal,” Simon shrugs, glancing over the shelves as you walk through the aisle. You should’ve known he had already been thinking about hijacking the dinner tonight.

And in this moment that Simon is distracted, looking for stuff to make a real meal, the toddler in the cart leans over to grab something.

It’s a glass jar.

Manages to get both little hands on it and bring it to his lap in the cart.

“What are ya-“

Simon frowns and looks down at him.

“What do you have there?” he says and your eyes widen when you see your son hold up the jar precariously with his chubby hands. “Nuh-uh, kid. Not gonna happen.”

Simon tuts at him and easily takes the jar away, but the action must feel like the end of the world to your two-year-old, because he immediately begins to cry.

Like screaming crying.

You should be used to it.

And you are.

How many nights had you dealt with your toddler’s tantrums all by yourself, his father miles away?

But today you’re tired, and your ears are ringing, and frankly you feel like crying yourself when your son starts flailing his arms around, trying to get the jar back.

“No, kid, you can’t have-“

“Simon,” you sigh and shift the baby against your chest, whose starting to wake up. “I’ll take them both outside. You finish getting everything.”

Shaking his head, Simon is already lifting the crying toddler from the cart and firmly telling you, “No, I’ve got it. You just… pick out whatever you want, yeah? Salad is fine.”

You don’t protest.

It’s much easier for Simon to restrain the boy, simply grabbing both of his wrists in one hand so he can’t hit. And holds him against his hip as he makes his way outside.

Seven years with Simon and he’s grown (emotionally) before your eyes. He had to learn how to safely express love, and it took time, but now he knows exactly how to love you, your kids. Shows it in patient words and gentle fingertips and constant acts of service.

Sure, there are moments where he gets frustrated (particularly when the boy tries to hit his little sister).

But Simon knows how to just be quiet and calm and let his son feel what he needs to feel. Because had anyone ever let him do that as a kid? Had anyone ever taken him outside during a tantrum, sit on a bench and hold him close, rubbing his back?

“It’s okay to feel angry,” Simon murmurs to his son. His cheeks red and puffy. “I’ve got ya. I’m here.”

The boy slurs out babble that Simon’s trained ears recognize as “want it”.

“Right,” his father sighs low. “I know what you mean, kid. Get proper mad when I don't get what I want," and he brushes a thumb to his cheek, "But we've got to find something that helps us stay calm, yeah?"

Simon doesn’t scold your son. Doesn’t tell him it’s okay, because he understands that it might not feel that way. Doesn’t even give a shit that the crying is drawing attention from people. Simon just sits on the bench with him and lets the tantrum happen.

And as your son’s tantrum fades into sniffles and little hands twisting around in his father’s shirt, Simon can’t help but think about his own memories. Most of them faded or blacked out now, he still manages to recall a time when he cried like this and his father had pushed his face in the dirt for it.

“I’ll give you something to fucking cry about.”

The words burn in his mind. Catch in his throat and force him to swallow. He used to shut those memories out, keep them buried somewhere underneath gunfire and blood and a mask. But now he welcomes them whenever they surface, learns from them. Reminds himself that he didn’t deserve that treatment and neither do his own kids.

Simon holds the toddler even closer.

Hands splaying over his back and a small kiss to his forehead.

“Look at ya,” Simon mutters out a piece of praise. “Feeling calm, bug? Wanna go back to your mum?”

But the toddler shakes his head no and instead, they sit out there until you’re done with the shopping. When you finally walk out, you see that Simon is smirking in amusement, watching your son sit in his lap and draw his little finger over the skulls inked on his arm. A relaxing activity, perhaps, and the sight of it makes your heart spill over.

[reiderwriter]

could you write a fic with a fem reader where spencer’s going through withdrawal and he’s being like snappy and stuff when she’s just trying to help? idk if that makes sense?

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry it took me so long ㅠㅠ I hope this is everything you were looking for!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN! reader

Warnings: mentions of drug use, mentions of addiction in the family, and spoilers for Season 2 of Criminal Minds.

You can check out my masterlist here!

In comparison with the other members of the BAU, you had the most experience with recovery. So you knew that it wasn't easy. Spencer Reid didn't. 

The moment you'd noticed him stepping out on the team, spending more time isolated and with a shorter temper, you knew. Tobias Hankel had only tortured Spencer for a day, but he was still inside him even months later. 

The day you realised he was using, you moved yourself into his apartment. 

“Hi,” you said as he opened the doors, bleary-eyed from whatever hit he just dealt himself. “My apartment flooded, and I had nowhere else to go.” 

Spencer Reid would always help others before he helped himself. It took a few more hours to broach the discussion of the drugs, but when you did get him to give in, you could feel the weight flowing off his shoulders. 

“I can't get his face out of my mind. The drugs, they help. And I know they're not really helping, but it's like I'm not strong enough to care.” He'd broken down into tears, placed his supply on the tables in front of you  and picked open the wound that had never fully healed properly. 

Step one to recovery was accepting you needed help. Step two was harder. 

Slowly decreasing his intake until he was free of the drug. Watching him for any negative reactions in the field and at home, dealing with the underlying trauma. 

You had to talk to Hotch about it, of course. But he knew about your father, and to a certain extent, you knew about his. A single shared look was enough for you both to agree that Spencer needed everyone's support. 

So you dropped him off at his meetings. You picked him up afterwards. You watched him in the field for any mention of addiction and drug-related psychosis that could lead him down a dark path of what ifs. 

You held his hand. You kissed his head. You were there. 

Even when he tried to show you he didn't deserve it. 

“Spencer,” you'd started the conversation trying to get his attention, knowing from the far away look that he was missing the numbness that came with the high. 

“Spencer, you look tense. Are you okay?” He'd whipped his head around at the words, a scowl on his face. 

“You don't need to hover over me like I'm a child, Y/N.” 

“I want to know that you're okay.” You said back, pouring yourself a glass of water to calm yourself again. Sometimes, Spencer made every little question an attack, and you had to learn to dodge the blows.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I want to take care of you.” Your calm reply had him angrier though, as he snorted with a single reply. 

“Like you took care of your dad? That worked out so well, didn't it.” 

Ten years and any mention of the man who had raised you still had you freezing in shock. You almost didn't notice when your glass tumbled to the ground, to be smashed into a thousand tiny pieces.

It was almost as if the crash woke Spencer up from his stupor, his gaze growing regretful as he stood and approached you quickly. 

With a hand and a shake of a head, you stopped him, though.

“Let me clear the large pieces on my own. I don't want you to get hurt.” Kneeling, you did just that, picking out recognisable edges and sides and transporting them carefully into the trash. 

“I'm not going to sit here and let you do all the work, Y/N. I'm… I'm sorry.” His voice whispered those last few words as he kneeled next to you  sweeping the glass up, careful not to cut himself on it. 

You wiped the tears from your eyes as both of you worked busily, letting your argument hang in the air between you.

“I know you're sorry, Spencer,” you whispered as the two of you worked, still not brave enough to look him in the eyes. “My dad was, too. He never meant it, though.” 

“I mean it.” He stopped moving, and you finally looked up to his eyes, to the life there that sparked, that had been buried by Tobias Hankel. Motivation. 

With the glass cleared, he stood, reaching out a hand to you to help you up. You took it, letting him assist you. He didn't let go after, though. Not immediately. 

He stepped closer, and you relaxed into his chest, resting an ear over his heart. It was still beating, and that was what mattered. 

“I can't fix you, Spencer. I can't make this better. I can't do that for you, because you have to do it for yourself. That's what my dad never understood.” Your voice was barely audible, but you knew he could hear and knew he was listening. 

“I can't reverse what he did to you. But I promise, I will be here to remind you that you are a good man. To remind you of what you are like when you're you  how much I love you, how much we all love you.”

“I'll stand next to you and look into that mirror every morning and tell you what I see. A good man on the bad days, the same man on the good days. I don't want to fix you, Spencer. I want to love you, and I want you to accept that you're worth it.”

His head rested on top of yours, and you could feel his small wrecks of tears as he sniffled. Inhaling your scent, he could've spent the night wrapped in your arms like that.

“Thank you. For saying that. For being here. I know it's not easy.” 

“It's not. But you're worth it.” Clinging to him, you let the moments tick by, never releasing him from your warm embrace. 

[mrsmikaelsxn]

His Obsession

masterlist

pairing: tom riddle x female reader

warnings: somewhat stalking, obsession, possessive, kissing, fluff

summary: you were a new student and you have taken the interest of tom riddle, he decides he wants to know everything about you

a/n: i'm a sucker for obsessive tom, what can i say

song: we belong together - ritchie valens

Tom Riddle. A name that brought fear to most students. He was powerful, and had intelligence that the professors admired. He excelled in all of his classes with flying colors.

He knows most things about all the people in his year, and a good amount of stuff about the students in higher and lower years as well.

So it was a bit of a shock when he saw you stroll into the great hall. Headmaster Dippet had called you up to the stool to be sorted into your house.

After a short while, the hat called out Slytherin. He couldn't be more grateful, seeing as how you were a sight for sore eyes. Many people must agree seeing as there were many others that seemed to be checking you out.

He quietly observed all of your movements from where he was sitting, trying his best to read you.

His 'friends' noticed his almost zoned out gaze and called his name. His attention was brought back in front of him as he looked at his followers with an annoyed expression.

The day was over as quick as it started. The next day, he noticed you were in most of his classes, allowing him to study you more. He had his followers do research on you and your family's background. He had them around the castle to keep an eye on you.

He felt a sort of pull towards you, he wanted to know everything about you.

In the potions class, he saw you sat in the back. Normally he would sit in the front of his classes, but he took the seat next to you today.

"Hi," you greet with a nod, looking at him take out a quill.

"Hello, I'm Tom RIddle," says, voice like silk.

"Y/n," you smile at him.

"What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"My family moved, I used to go to Beauxbatons," you explain. He hums and turns his attention to the professor.

Since then, you have become almost friends. He began to tutor you for potions, the one class you did not have an outstanding in. You still had high marks for that class, but you wanted to try and get all O's.

He had taken a great liking to you.

He most likely wouldn't admit his feelings, he thought it was impossible for him to feel such things because of him being conceived under a love potion. Yet, you come along and prove him wrong.

He wasn't really one for public affection, but he was different in private.

Even though he didn't necessarily do things such as holding your hand, or having an arm around your shoulder, people would say he was obsessed with you. His eyes and attention were wherever you were.

There was something about you that was so ethereal to him.

Whenever someone looked at you for too long, or in a bad way, he dealt with them when you were somewhere else in the castle.

Today was the day of your date with him. He had finally decided to ask you to accompany him on a 'picnic' as you called it. He said it was just a meal outside but you discarded that.

He used his wandless and non-verbal magic to quickly set up the secluded area as you got ready.

A bit later you met him there and couldn't stop a bright smile from forming. He loved your smile, it was one of his favorite things about you. He would always find a way to make you smile, and if you weren't with him, he already had it engraved in his mind for him to imagine.

"Hello, y/n. You look lovely, as always," he greets you kissing your hand.

"Tom," you blush and avert your eyes. "I think you look dashing as well," you smile and pat his chest.

"Well, come sit," he says as he goes to sit in the spot set up. It has a beautiful view of the mountains and the Black Lake.

"This view is stunning," your eyes shine, taking in the phenomenal scene in front of you.

"Mine is too," he says gazing at you.

"My goodness Tom, stop with your flattery," you laugh covering your face to hide your even more reddened cheeks.

"I am only speaking the truth," he replies, bringing his hands to your wrists and pulling your hands from your face.

"You are the most exquisite person I've met," you pat his cheek.

"I know," he grins. You roll your eyes and go to resort, when you felt his lips on yours.

You recover from the temporary shock and kiss back. You had fancied him for some time now. You knew he was different with you, but never would you have thought he would return your feelings. No kisses have ever felt this intimate before, the way he kissed you was as if he was trying to show you how much he cared for you.

You had to pull back for some air after a minute.

"Tom," you mutter as he looks at your swollen lips and jovial face. This is, in fact, his first kiss. He has never felt an attraction to any other person before. On top of that, he was always so focused on his education and plans for the future.

"Y/n," he breathes out.

"What was that for," you whisper playfully.

"For you being perfect," he whispers kissing you again. When you two break apart, he asks you to go to hogsmeade with him. To which you replied with, "I would be a fool to ever turn you down, Tom," as you look at him with such love that had his heart beating so fast he thought he would have a heart attack.

[mvltisstuff]

Hey how are you? I hope all is well. I was wondering if you could do a request where everyone in the 118 fully forgets the readers birthday except for Buck and the reader is upset because she always makes to at least say happy birthday to someone when their birthday comes.Buck is also in love with the reader and after work he goes to her apartment to wish her happy birthday and confess his feelings. (They both are in love with each other) He ends up cheering up the reader and spends the night (if its not too much can you add smut with fluff afterwards)

I'm sorry this is so long and Thank you!

pity party - e.b **

summary: request :)

evan buckley x reader

gif from @evanbuckleydaily

a/n: warning for smut toward the end, but no where else! hope you enjoy bc birthdays are so special to me 🩶

even as a little girl, y/n loved her birthdays. waking up to the smell of sweet pancakes and seeing her friends made her ecstatic. birthdays usually get sadder by the year, as you inch closer and closer to being a senior, but y/n always took it as a celebration. why wouldn’t you celebrate your life? she’s been so happy since she came to la, and it’s a way to appreciate herself from all she’s dealt with.

the morning sun shone through her windows, leaving an orange color on her bedsheets. her work alarm yanked her out of her slumber. today, she was excited to wake up, maybe too excited. she did her hair as nice as she could and even put on a little bit of makeup for the day. she wanted to feel good on her birthday, so she let herself. yeah, she’s a firefighter, but a cute little up do was never the wrong way to go. normally, she just threw it in a ponytail, but today, she did a pretty low bun and added in a few braids. she grabbed her stuff, walking out the door with the bright smile on her face. it was plastered on there until she got to the station. everyone noticed that she was obscurely happy. not to say she wasn’t normally happy, but there was a glow to her that day.

she pranced into the locker rooms, passing hen and chimney on her way in. she pulled on her uniform and made her way out, starting to help organize the engines. “hey, y/n! what’s going on?” eddie says first. she gives him a nice smile before responding kindly. she’s a little taken aback at the lack of response from her birthday, but she moves on. it wasn’t until hen, chimney, and even her other coworkers didn’t say a thing.

maybe something was planned? a surprise? they could just be busy with work and home, too. they knew her birthday was coming up, and they knew when it was, so she was a bit thrown off. she didn’t want to be too selfish, though. the whole station doesn’t revolve on her terms. she mindlessly thought that they’d say something eventually, maybe they just had other things to worry about them.

y/n was on top of one of the trucks, rolling out and organizing the hoses on top. she didn’t have anyone else up there to help, but she was fine on her own. she did wish she had someone to talk to, especially on her birthday, but it was fine. suddenly, the back of the ladder shook a bit, revealing a thrilled buck who pranced to the top. “happy birthday, y/n!” he beamed, slipping over with his arms out as he embraced her.

“thanks, buck,” she says, returning the smile and graciousness he gave her.

“are you ok? you were so excited for today!”

“yeah! yeah, i’m fine! just thinking about today, that’s all.”

“well, i’m gonna make you have a good day, whether you like it or not.”

“ok, ok,” she curls her mouth back into a grin. “just don’t mention too much about it, i don’t want it to be too big of a deal.”

“i get it, totally,” he replies, starting to help her drag up the long hoses.

the alarm echoed through the whole station, and the team piled into the truck after putting on their gear. y/n sat on the end, staring out the window in slight disappointment about how her day was going. was she being childish? no, not at all, but her selflessness didn’t let her realize that.

“y/n, what’s got you looking all fancy all of a sudden?” chimney asks.

“hot date?” hen adds in. y/n continues to just look out the window, as buck gives his friends a confused look. she understands it now, they probably forgot or didn’t care enough. it hurt especially because they were her family. she came here to la, and she found her best friends who melted into more. they spent almost every day together, so she wanted a little more affection. but, there wasn’t anything she could do about it. she didn’t want to say anything because of tension, and they had enough work to do.

“just with myself,” y/n laughs, covering up her secretly hurt feelings.

“i think you look pretty, y/n!” buck says, shouting over the headphones he has in. she laughs at his volume, but he’s been treating her the best.

y/n was so in love with buck, and he was so in love with her. there’s no other way to put it. work would be a whole different experience without the other. they’re like two peas in a pod and are finishing each others sentences. when you think of silly phrases and metaphors for love, they are every single one.

“alright, lover boy,” chim teases before gazing out his own window.

“c’mon, guys, leave them alone,” bobby turns his head around to take some of the spotlight off y/n and buck. buck doesn’t think anything of it, somehow. he figures they already said something to her, so nothing came across as out of the ordinary to him.

they arrived to a scene, solving the calamity and issues that were sparked with the fire. it was quick, they do it every single day, so they were prepared and there were several hands on deck. multiple calls rolled in throughout the day between small intervals, and all of them passed without the two small words to y/n. none of them cared to ask, or really know anything. she had been painfully obviously distant that day, but everyone was just fooling around and talking about whatever, so they didn’t notice. the sun had finally set, and still, nothing. her day that was supposed to be great was pretty much over, and she felt like nothing happened. y/n didn’t expect too much, but she deserved more than what she got. at the end of the day, however, she still had buck. he was there the whole day by her side, making her crack smiles and break out in laughter, which was his favorite music. y/n decided to jump in the shower, wash off any extra negativity from the day off so she could let it all go. buck walked in the kitchen with everyone else.

“alright, y/n’s showering,” he begins. “bobby! where’d you put the cake and the candles?”

“buck, your birthdays a bit far away, don’t you think?”

“h-huh? no, it’s for…” buck starts to put the pieces together. there is no cake, decorations, or candles for her. they didn’t bother to remember or put the time in for someone who cares so deeply for them. “you guys remember, right?”

“remember?” eddie questions, confusion forming in the room at bucks upset.

“oh my god, that’s why she’s been acting different. it’s her birthday, you idiots! she’s been looking forward to this the whole month, and we don’t have anything for her!”

“shit, buck,” hen whispers. “it completely slipped my mind.”

“me too, i’ve been out with maddie a lot and i must’ve forgotten how soon it was,” chimney responded. buck looks around for any answers he can get, only to be confronted by looks of self pity and sulk.

“really? really,” buck argues. “have you guys completely lost it? chim, on your birthday she planned a whole party in her small apartment for you. bobby, for you, she spent hours with athena making sure it would be perfect. same with you, hen! eddie, she made sure all of us were there for you and had gifts for you to make you smile. she did all of this to make you guys feel loved. it’s one day a year, and she deserves it just as much as you all did.”

the team shared disheartened faces to each other, realizing what they’d done to y/n. she was without a doubt, the sweetest person at the station. she makes every single day a memorable one, especially the birthdays of her best friends. they tried to come up with reasonable answers as to why they didn’t remember, but none of them were justifiable. so, they waited for y/n to come out of the locker rooms, but she didn’t. her shift was ending, so she just went home. there wasn’t any time to plan anything, and she knew nothing was going on. buck can’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.

they sat there in nothing but silence until bucks phone vibrated in his back pocket. he saw y/n’s name lighten the screen, revealing a dispirited text from her.

“hey, just wanted to let you know that i already left, but i wanted to say thank you for everything today. this day would’ve sucked without you <3”

buck sighed after he read the last word, seeing the little heart at the end of it. “well, she already left, so,” buck gets up out of his seat, going to change into his own clothes. he already knows what he has to do, so he rushes over to the nearest bakery, the only one that’s open late at this time.

the owners are just about to close up, when buck runs in like a lunatic. “wait! hold on, please?”

“sir, we’re just about to close,” the woman says, walking outside the counter.

“i know, and i’ll give you a good tip, i swear. i need you to just write a name on his cake, please. you’d make a girls day, i’ll pay extra!”

“im sorry, but everything’s been put away for the night.”

buck groans, “fine, can i just buy these candles and this small thing of icing?” afterwards, buck sits in his car and under the happy birthday, scribbles in a messy y/n. it’s not perfect, but it doesn’t matter if it’ll make her happy.

when y/n arrives home, she immediately just goes to sit on her couch. she flips on the tv, whipping a blanket around her shoulders. she plays an old episode of the office, the one where it’s kelly’s birthday. it’s always one that makes her laugh, and why not just rub it more in her face that everyone forgot? she intently watched the episode, wallowing in let down. it was later than normal for her to be up, but she let it slide. it was almost the midnight, so she figured why not just stay up?

the harsh knocking on her door zoned her mind out of the show, standing up and opening the door slowly. her hair was still done, a little messy but still beautiful to buck. she made eye contact with the enchanting soul in front of her, smiling instantly at the sight of a little cake with candles that weren’t lit. “what are you doing here?”

“i’m not going to let you spend the rest of the night alone, not after the day you’ve had,” he steps inside the apartment, and she takes the cake from his hands.

“listen it’s fine, you didn’t have to do this.”

“you’re right, i didn’t, but i wanted to. there’s nothing i wanted more than to make you feel loved today. i don’t know what’s gotten into everyone, but you never deserve something like that. you’re my favorite person there, y/n, and i’d do-“

she cuts his frantic speech off by stepping in closer, connecting their lips for the first time. he’s a little surprised, but silently celebrating in his head. he leans in closer to her, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her into him. “thank you, buck.” she says, and he smiles against her lips.

“you know i love you, right?”

“good,” she smiles from ear to ear. “because i love you, too.”

**

buck doesn’t let himself hear another word from her before he presses his lips against hers again. whatever they had before was forgotten, because it had become more in a flash. he’s loved her for years, but he needed her to know now. he places his hands on the back of her thighs, picking her up and landing on the couch. he’s sitting between her legs, making out with y/n continuously until she pulls apart. she begins to undo her jean buttons, and he starts to take off her shirt. she does the same, gripping the seam and pulling it off to reveal his fit body. she’s seen it before, but in this moment, it sends waves of arousal to her core. buck starts rubbing her through her underwear as quiet moans are released from y/n. “buck,”

“yeah?”

“whatever you’re about to do, don’t stop.”

buck takes that as a sign to continue, letting her stand up to slide herself out of the rest of her garments, as he strips to his boxers. his eyes sprint up and down y/n’s body, admiring every single part of it before he grabs her by the hips and yanks her in. she laughs out as he starts to plant kisses to his her stomach, making his way up to her breasts, loving on each one.

he’s suddenly pushed back on the couch, y/n’s hands making contact with his shoulders. he’s leaned back against the couch, and y/n peels off his boxers, revealing his dick, hard for her. she starts to wrap her hand around it, pumping it up and down as he groans out. “oh, don’t do this to me, y/n.”

“fine,” she smirks, leaning her leg on the couch and swinging her other one over. bucks hands make his way up to her breasts, squeezing them gently before connecting his mouth to them again like a magnet. she painfully grinds against his erection, causing him to whine from the teasing. it’s not until she runs his tip down her slit, and pushes his tip into her that they moan simultaneously. she sinks down, taking his entire length in her pussy. “oh, fuck, baby.”

“my god, y/n,” he notices y/n trying to muffle her moans, biting on her lip as she bounces up and down on his dick. “hey, don’t try and be quiet, let me hear those pretty moans.”

she starts bringing herself up and down faster than before, letting herself cry out sharp moans at the warm feeling in her abdomen. bucks hands make contact with her tits again, fondling them and pinching her nipples as she continues to ride him. one of her hands is gripping his shoulder, the other sinks down to rub circles on her clit. buck starts to get that familiar feeling back before announcing, “y/n, i’m gonna fucking come.”

“i know, baby, me too,” she pants out, breathless from the repeated actions on his dick. “come for me, buck.”

buck frees a loud moan from his lips when pulling himself out of y/n, releasing all over her stomach as her legs twitch above him. her mouth gapes open as her fingers reach down to her stomach before placing two in her mouth. buck swears he’s died and gone to heaven at the sight of the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.

“got you speechless, huh?”

“h-holy shit, y/n,” buck stutters out. “that was fuckin’- oh my god.”

y/n giggles at his chaotic words, and she places her forehead against his chest, laughing. “thank you. for everything,” she remarks, picking her head up to look at him with her chin on his chest.

“i’d do anything for you. happy birthday.”

[woahjo]

i've been thinking a lot about a jjk hunger games au... gonna add content warnings just in case

cw: mentions of sex work, implications of noncon/trafficking, references to gore, canon typical violence and discussions for hunger games stuff

if satoru were a victor in the hunger games, he'd be a capitol darling. he'd be so adored and so admired. he's so handsome, so charismatic, that even some folks in one and two find him completely captivating.

he's a career from district four, who won his games with all the savvy of someone who was born to do it. when he volunteered, there was very little doubt that he was the most promising tribute. strong and surly. 18 years old with a long, lithe body and smile that screamed winner.

so of course he had sponsors and allies. of course he was highly sought after by the other careers. his district partner, a pretty person with a quiet and stoic disposition, was simultaneously proud of him and deeply threatened. they'd trained in the same class and she knew what he was capable of. no one remembers her name anymore, they just remember that he hadn't killed her. he'd spared her from what he could until someone else took her from this world.

it seemed that after she passed, satoru flipped a switch. that was it. the games would end and he'd come out on top.

after his victory, satoru had all the wealth he could need. no family anymore, hardly any friends save for the other victors, but money and wealth beyond what he'd ever imagined. it was dazzling even for him and his district was better off than most. career districts tend to be.

he disconnects from the world, lets snow sell his body and keeps playing the game. that's all there is left to do. to just keep playing. fame isn't all he thought it would be and satoru realizes now that he was too naive in volunteering. he dreamed of a kind of glory that doesn't exist and with every passing year, he grows more and more bitter internally of the kids after him who make the same mistakes.

then, three years after his games, an 18 year old from district 7 miraculously wins. you're an underdog, an unexpected victor from an outlying district with little to no chance of winning. but you did.

satoru meets you on your victory tour, when the fear of the arena hasn't fully worn off, and he's struck by the quiet stoicism you have within you. you're sweet, but with a bitter edge, given to you by your district and the unlucky hand dealt to you. he finds himself a bit in awe.

he thinks you hate him at first. satoru gets the impression that you hate him so much that you can hardly stomach being around him. it isn't until he pulls you to the side and warns you about what comes next, that you start to humanize him. that defensive glint wavers for a moment, leaving nothing but a pretty person with an unlucky lot in life. he's not sure why he warns you, but he does. he feels some sort of kinship with you. you've endured something similar, felt the same fear he felt, and you don't revel in it. instead, you quietly chew up the hand dealt to you and spit it out, something he never thought he could do.

satoru, a victor from district four with nothing left in this world, is awestruck by the idea that he can love someone this much. suddenly, it's not just about playing their game, it's about winning it. just surviving isn't enough anymore. with you in the equation, he needs to thrive.

[danikamariewrites]

Hello! Can you please write a story where someone insults Azriel, and the reader is ready to beat that person up because of it, and Azriel is very impressed that the reader is so upset just because someone insulted him? Thanks!

I want to tell you that your stories are very well written and I enjoy every time you post.

What Did You Say?

Azriel x reader

A/n: thank you anon that means a lot to me. This was sm fun to write bc I love imagining Az with a feisty partner who will defend him.

Warnings: some swears

Today was a rare day off for you and Az. Instead of spending the day inside, Az decided to treat you to lunch and shopping in town. As you got up from the table Az offered you his arm, taking you back out to the bustling streets.

So far you had been to five of your favorite shops and Azriel was holding your bags. You told him you could carry them but he insisted he do it, “My love, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t carry the for you.” You giggled at his dramatics.

Passing a bar to head to your last stop of the afternoon, you saw a group of males lingering outside. They were staring at Azriel and it made you uncomfortable. People would usually stare because of his wings and his height, but you had a bad feeling about these guys.

You knew Az hated attention so you grabbed his arm. He smiled down at you and you just kept walking straight. As you pass the males one speaks up, clearly not hiding his comment about your boyfriend, “It’s such a shame to see our kind with an Illyrian brute. No matter what title they hold.”

You could tell Azriel wanted to keep walking and ignore them, but you froze, your back going stock straight. Azriel leaned forward slightly, “Love, let it go.” Your eyes were wide, anger took over your features.

Turning slowly towards the males, who were now snickering, you were ready to rip into them. You weren’t usually a confrontational person but when it came to Azriel you were fiercely protective of him.

“What did you say?” One of the males faces you was still laughing. The one who made the comment speaks up, “He’s an Illyrian brute, you shouldn’t be with him it’s not natural.”

At the point you were seeing red. Azriel’s arm wrapped around the front of your waist, holding on to your hip. You could hear him speaking but couldn’t make out his words.

“Come fucking say that to my face.” You stomp over to the male, getting in his face. “You’re a real piece of shit you know that!” That male was shocked that you were in front of him. He and his friends were silent as you were yelling at them.

Before you could really tell them how you felt, Azriel pulled you into his arms and took off. Before you knew it he was landing on the balcony of the House of Wind. He quickly brought you into one of the sitting rooms, placing you on the ground and dropping the bags.

You began pacing the room. Clenching and unclenching your fists. All Az could do was stand there and let you calm down. He was truly shocked by your reaction in the street. But at the same time he was impressed. The only people who would’ve done that were his brothers. It was heartwarming in a way, to see you stand up for them.

You let out a frustrated sound, your pacing slowing down. You finally stop and sit on the couch forcefully. Fidgeting with your fingers, you look up at Az. “I’m sorry but that just really pissed me off.” You huff out. “I just - ugh - I just hate when people talk about you like that. I know you’ve dealt with it for years but, Cauldron! That was just…”

Az sat down next to you taking both of your hands in one of his large ones. “Y/n, it’s ok.” You lean on his shoulder brushing a kiss on your temple. “It was actually sweet. I've never seen you so angry. It was kinda hot.”

You playfully slapped his chest, “Hush you.” Az throws his head back and lets out a belly laugh. He pulled you into a hug placing another kiss on your head. “Want to go unpack all your stuff?” You give Az an enthusiastic nod, pulling him off the couch.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny, while out exploring the Infinite Realms, gets caught up in a wierd evil scheme to clone...a robin? Okay, strange but hes dealt with weirder stuff. Nothing really prepared him for finding a little newborn baby amongst all the empty pods and computers he was destroying.

He picked it up carefully and soon discovered it was a girl. Phantom, knowing this was very much not a bird, started looking for answers while the baby rested in his arm. Robin turned out to be a kid who looked around eight or nine...or he was just small. Either way he was waaaay too young to take in a baby and anyone who dressed up like a bat and let thier kid run around with them at two in the morning to fight serial killers and terrorists in the city that is the embodiment of late stage capitalism probably isn't a good fit for a child.

So he turned to the child and muttered, "Guess I'm a dad now." before taking her back to the Infinite Realms. He named her Asteria after the greek titan goddess of the stars.

She was so inquisitive and wanted to grab and investigate everything she saw. She was smart and ridiculously bold, almost reckless, which made it easy to pass her off as his and telling his sister that he had a fling with a tourist and she told him the baby was his. He even presented a fake paternity test to her and then silently waited for her judgment.

She just sighed.

Danny didn't hate being a father but man it was tiring. They had moved away from Amity Park after thier parents and Vlaad "passed away" which was code for Jazz murdering them in cold blood after...the incident

He and Sam stopped being friends after they had a bad break up, but Tucker was his best friend, even all these years later. Valerie still seemed to come and go too. Danny was happy just being a single father.

Until it happened.

Asteria started coughing. He didn't think anything of it at first. Kids got sick all the time but...it never stopped. Danny had taken her to doctor after doctor but no one seemed to know what they were looking at. They all said something similar, that it was some sort of genetic disease involving her lungs but they had never seen anything like it.. they even asked to record this for future medical studies. He agreed so long as it was within reason and wasn't invasive.

The cough just kept getting worse until one day she had a fit so bad it sent her to her knees. She had to stay on the ground coughing as Danny frantically patted her back and tried to comfort her. By the time it was over she was sobbing uncontrollably and hugging her teddybear to her chest as Danny held her.

Danny decided he needed to go back to Gotham. If this was a genetic disease then it must have come from that Robin guys family, right? He didn't want to have to go to him directly, it had been four years since he took her and its possible the guy might sue him for custody. Or the Batman will. Or they might kidnap her and he would never see her agia-

Danny took a deep breath. He was not going to talk to the furry patrol. But he was sure that someone in Gotham had to know what this was.

---

Leslie got a knock on her window as an ungodly hour of the night. She opened it intending to yell at someone, but when she saw that unique look of desperation on a young man's face while holding a little girl in a light blue princess nightgown the words died on her tongue.

The man said he couldn't go to a normal hospital or doctor as they would have questions he couldn't answer and her sickness isn't something he had ever seen before. She was adopted and her disease was appearently genetic. He even offered to give Leslie samples of his blood for study since he heard she liked to study metas.

She made sure he knew this wasn't necessary and that she didn't want him to feel forced before taking the offered sample.

Asteria began a slow recovery after that. One where neither of them could leave Gotham until she was completely cured. Whats more is that Asteria would need medication for years to come. Money wasn't an issue. Danny would just need to find a reliable form of transport between dimensions.

Unfortunately for him, Leslie discovered the "Altered Lazarus water" in his blood samples and notified Batman.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling the cops (twice, kind of) on someone in a car who swerved at me on the side of the road?

(Disclaimer: I hate cops. But I felt extremely threatened and wasn't going to let this go without something happening.)

I am a high school student and have not yet gotten my license, and therefore cannot drive alone. To get to school I ride an electric scooter, it looks a bit stupid as a high schooler but it is the only way possible for me to get to school on time. (I have a class before school in the morning, and both parents have work.) I've been doing this for over three years and have had no problems until recently.

Two or three weeks ago, I was on my way home from school. I noticed a car approaching from behind, and moved to the very edge of the road as I would normally. I was literally in the gutter on the side of the road, nowhere near where cars would be. This car, however, then sped up rapidly and swerved within 2-3 feet of hitting me. Probably not trying to actually hit me, but clearly trying to scare me or something of the sort. The person in the passenger seat was screaming the whole time.

The car sped off (I should mention that the speed limit on this road is 25 mph, and the car was going at least 50-60 mph) and after standing in shock for a moment I followed them home since they apparently lived in my neighborhood. I caught two teenage boys leaving the car, and asked if they had been in that car and had swerved at me on the road. They denied everything and went inside the house.

I went home and after a short while, came back with my father to back me up. Asshole move from me, I know, but he insisted on going in case the boys decided to get violent. I made him wait a short distance back, then rang the doorbell. Waited for a while, no answer. They were clearly still inside; the car was still parked on the road nearby and I hadn't been gone for long.

When they didn't answer, I then went home and called the police. I gave them the license plate number and the guy's address, and they said there had been reports of him speeding and being reckless before. The cops went to the house and yelled at them, and I thought it was over then. I most certainly did not want to press the issue any further, the shock and adrenaline was wearing off at this point and I just wanted to be done.

But several days later, I was sent screenshots of the driver of that car spreading hate about me on Snapchat for getting him in trouble. Now this is kind of difficult to explain, but I am unfortunately somewhat well known for riding an electric scooter to school. But up until this point, people just were aware of my existence. After the Snapchat posts and messages about me were spread, all of that turned into pure hate. Every time I was seen with that stupid scooter, people would scream that they wished I would fall and stuff like that. None of this had happened before, and I was (and am) miserable and scared. I don't feel safe anywhere around school because this is still ongoing.

I also tried to contact him via Instagram messages, to which he did not respond. That was three times that I attempted to contact him: first by following him as he was getting out of the car, second by ringing the doorbell, and third by messaging him.

Two days ago, I got my mom to pull me out of school early because I was feeling like crap after some particularly bad harassment in the morning. In the office as I was asking to sign out, I started crying in front of the school police officer, and she asked for the full story. I told her about the online posts and the catcalling and harassment I dealt with every day, and she took it very seriously. I didn't want her to do anything really, but she did anyway (I'm not upset about this honestly, it was probably a good thing). She said that the patrol officers usually didn't do much about stuff like this, but she could and would do a lot more.

She pulled the guy out of his class after I had left to go home, and in her words "put the fear of God in that kid"; telling him he should have lost his license and that since he was 18 he could face real consequences and go to jail for stuff like this. He has been told that he has to stay at least three feet away from me at all times.

Since then, he hasn't said anything to me in person, and hasn't posted anything publicly online. I still don't feel safe at school or anywhere in the area, but I've been taking an alternate route to try to avoid being seen and yelled at as much.

Am I the asshole? I honestly think we both might be, but I do feel somewhat justified by the fact that he at least got some sort of consequence for threatening my life like that and causing that level of problem.

What are these acronyms?

[puffballwarrior-blog]

After months of putting this off, I'm finally posting stuff for Spectral Dreams :D

Click for higher quality

Introducing the mascot, Magonyan! The Yo-Kai version of Magolor.

He's a C-rank Fire Attribute Yo-Kai freed by Nate from the Crank-a-kai. His inspiriting causes lying when you don't mean to. His Skill is Resistance which reduces effects from enemy inspirits. His Soultimate is Bombs of Fury, which is basically just a fire attribute Paws of Fury.

There's gonna be a MASSIVE lore dump under the cut if you wanna read.

Over 200 years ago, he died being mauled by a dog, thus losing his limbs. After that, he discovered that no one could see him and thought he could do whatever he wanted without consequences. He snuck into a village altar and stole the crown of a tyrant, the Overlord's Crown. He put it on and fused with it, creating a powerful Yo-Kai named Overnyan.

Magonyan thought it was the coolest thing ever, wanting to test his new form's power. But little did he know, the crown he fused with was taken over by a Wicked Yo-Kai. It took over his body and wreaked havoc on the village. But before it could cause any more destruction, a little pink Legendary Yo-Kai stopped him, and he was sealed away in the Crank-a-kai.

While sealed away, he felt all alone. No one to talk to, alone with his thoughts in a tiny cramped capsule. A decade later, he heard a voice, a new Yo-Kai had been sealed away in a capsule just like he was. The voice was rambling on and on about his old master, a shogun who died in a war. Magonyan listened intently to him, even chiming in to make a conversation. They built a close friendship over the years they were trapped despite never seeing each other's faces. Until one day, Magonyan's friend was freed from the Crank-a-kai, leaving him alone once again.

It didn't take long for him to be next, however. He was freed by an average-looking human boy, Nate. Magonyan noticed how much attention Jibanyan got and decided to make a costume of him, even pretending to be him at one point. It was then he discovered his love for making costumes and made a lot of different cosplays of other cat Yo-Kai.

(Unrelated to lore but I imagine if he were in a game, you could customize which costume he wears when befriending different cat Yo-Kai.)

They wound up finding the Overlord's Crown once more but Magonyan only fuses with it if it's a dire situation, he does not want to be taken over by the Wicked again.

Soon, the stuff with Dame Dedtime happened, and Wicked Yo-Kai were taking over Old Springdale and the humans and Yo-Kai in it. In the final fight, Magonyan fused with the crown and dealt the final blow to Dame Demona. Because of this, Kin and Gin sent him back in time to try and change his fate in an attempt to "revive" Dame Dedtime, similar to what they did with Jibanyan and Whisper. He refused, choosing to die again and return to his friends. Reliving his death was scary, but worth being able to be in an afterlife with friends.

After a while, something happened and he ended up losing control as Overnyan again. This caught the attention of Lord Enma and for the sake of Springdale, he sealed him away in the Infinite Inferno. Magonyan ended up fighting the big bosses inside in order to get out, making friends with those wrongly in there along the way who also wanted out. In the end, instead of Wobblewok, he had to fight the Wicked Yo-Kai who had broken free from the crown. When things looked bad, Magonyan picked up the crown and fused with it once more, finally having it under his control. He picked up a sword that had mysteriously appeared on the ground, one that bore a striking resemblance to the Enma Blade, and used it to defeat the Wicked that caused all of this.

(I imagine the fight would be similar to the Yo-Kaiju fight in YKW3 with controlling every action)

After the fight, he's approached by none other than Lord Enma himself. He explains that he sent Magonyan to the Infinite Inferno because he thought he was abusing the power of the crown but knows now that it was the Wicked's doing all along. After he properly apologizes for the misunderstanding, he agrees to let Magonyan out of the Infinite Inferno with the Overlord's Crown and the sword he gave him under the promise that he would use their power responsibly. Magonyan agrees without hesitation and he is let out.

After escaping, he notices that Nate is nowhere to be found in Springdale, his family isn't even in their house. Where could he have gone? And what's Magonyan supposed to do now?

[iceman-soup]

Price giving out stickers to the 141. Colourful little circles saying "well done!", "good job!" or with a smiley face, and the team gets REALLY competitive for them.

The sticker pack was bought months ago when Price was on leave. He saw it in a small crafts shop and remembered an ex of his - a primary school teacher - had said it worked wonders for their class. With a grin, he paid, packing the stickers safely in his bag to take back to base and thinking himself the funniest man alive.

It took a while for him to reveal the stickers to his team. To be honest, by the time he'd dealt with all the inevitable chaos that happened whilst he was away, he was too tired to care about the stickers when he finally got round to unpacking his bag again. It wasn't until several weeks later that he brought them, smuggled under his jacket, into a briefing room, ready to congratulate the boys on another successful mission and showcase his little joke.

"Fuck me, Cap." Ghost had, of course, been the first to notice when Price placed the sticker pack on the briefing room table. The latter had chosen a moment when everyone was nattering with each other about the mission - or about something, anyway; he drowned out Soap and Gaz's playful arguments most of the time.

Ghost's lighthearted exasperation caught the others' attention, and to say the three sergeants' eyes lit up would be an understatement. Roach was the first to lunge towards Price - eyes fixed on the stickers as if they were prey - quickly followed by Soap and Gaz. The Captain had to snatch the little booklet off the table and hold it above his head at lightning speed to avoid a catfight over it.

"It's only if you're good!" He scolded, attempting to push off a very fixated Gaz from practically climbing up his gear to get to the stickers.

The boys start doing counterproductive shit to try and get stickers. Soap blows up considerably more stuff than before in attempts to impress Price; Ghost brings him more tea than he is physically capable of drinking; and he swears Gaz and Roach have mentally transformed into two needy cats that are constantly under his feet.

From day two of the Curse of the Stickers (TM), Price is instantly regretting his actions. His team's pestering is only making him give out less stickers, which in turn makes the pestering worse. It got to the point where he awarded Roach a sticker for falling asleep just because it meant that he wasn't bothering him.

(This all continued for years btw. Every time the novelty of the stickers started to fade, someone would get one for doing particularly well on a mission and suddenly the competition would pipe back up again. Price never forgot about the stickers because their faces when he gave them one was so innocently happy. He loved seeing his men be boys again even just for a moment)

[jo-harrington]

Closing Time (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie watches the reader slay a dragon. (Reader works at Claire's in StarCourt and deals with a shitty customer before closing the store.)

Previous Part: Leave of Absence

Warnings/Themes: Semi-established relationship (friendship? Eddie isn’t sure what they are either), fluffy. Reader is not a Hawkins native, but it's kind of just implied. Eddie is a romantic boy and makes everything fantastical in that silly head of his. Also he makes a crude (ish?) joke. Typical teenage boy/young adult stuff. Nothing crazy,

Note: This is my first drabble I'm actually posting. (I haven't written actual fics in a hot minute, only headcanons). I hope it's good, but it really was an opportunity for me to get my frustrations out after work in a store for the first time in 2 years since I moved to corporate. And I kind of liked it so I might write more. (Therapy who?)

(Future Jo here...You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.)

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

"Ma'am, I'm sorry that this is confusing, but it's store policy."

"Then I'd like to speak to the store manager."

"I am the store manager," you explained, smile dropping right off your face only to be replaced by a cool mask of indifference.

Eddie stood just outside of the store, leaning against a railing that overlooked the Food Court, and watched you. It was a Sunday, which meant the mall was closed early, and all of the stores were dark except for yours. The gate was halfway down, but he could still see the tenacity--the ferocity--in your eyes as you dealt with an unruly customer and it took everything in him to ignore the little shiver that went up his spine.

When Eddie first gotten a job at Tape World, he had briefly wondered if it was a mistake. He had mostly been given closing shifts to offset gigs at the Hideout on Tuesdays and Hellfire on Fridays. Not to mention school once it was back in session. And seeing how closing shifts meant he was missing out at the opportunity to be dealing at local parties over the summer...well he didn't need to pass algebra to know it was costing him some potentially serious cash.

But the pay at Tape World wasn't awful and it was steady. Wayne seemed to be proud of him for finally having a steady job, despite the assurance that he would always be proud of Eddie. The discount was nice, and his manager let him promote Corroded Coffin shows at the counter.

And then there was you.

At first glance, it didn't make sense to anyone. You with your pastel purple name tag, mega-watt smile, trendy clothes, and stacks of scrunchies. And Eddie with his alleged devil-worshipping, superior taste in music, non-conformity, and hair wild either from too much head banging or the single window AC unit in his trailer. Shit, even he didn't understand it in the beginning; he thought you were everything he said he hated.

But you weren't.

Just like he wasn't everything the entire town said he was either.

Instead he found someone who was just like him, only sort of not at all, with your own flock of lost little bedazzled, pastel and neon sheep that you were protective of. You were a misunderstood soul, a compassionate leader, and one of the most patient people he ever met.

Except for right this minute.

The lights in the mall itself started to dim and the music went silent. Yet, there you still stood in front of one of the local PTA moms as she complained about a return.

She had already been in the store when Eddie arrived to meet you at the end of your shift. (Sunday nights were your...well, Eddie didn't know what to call them. Not date nights; not yet at least.) And you had given him one quick, apologetic glance over her shoulder before you geared up for battle.

But Eddie had been watching as your mood devolved ever since, and you went from understanding, to annoyed, to fuming. And here you were now, looking as though you could singlehandedly manifest a pit to open up beneath Loudmouth Linda to swallow her whole if she carried on with her rant.

And it was kind of hot.

Eddie wouldn't consider himself someone who thought anger was sexy. It was scary. He had seen the way his father would get angry over the most minor things and it stayed with him his entire life. He would freeze, even at the most minor indication that anger was being directed towards him. From his father, from a teacher, from Officer Callahan--although Hopper was usually there to rescue him from that one.

It was different when it came to bullies at school or the townies that spoke in hushed tones when he passed them by. He could stand up to the jocks and the popular kids that pushed him and his friends around. He could ignore the scathing looks from the busybodies at the grocery store. And as much as it hurt to be cast away by almost everyone he met for years, he knew that it wasn't anger--actually he wasn't sure what it was, really--that caused them to do those things.

Just like it wasn't really anger that fueled your fight for the past fifteen minutes. It was purely righteous indignation as you were attacked by this absolute dragon of a woman.

Deep down, he wished he could be your savior, having dealt with the spitting venom of these townies before on numerous occasions. But you were no damsel, and this wasn't your first battle either. You took every insult with grace, every octave of a raised voice was met with an equally raised voice before going back to calm. You verbally jousted, using every trick in your book, and when they didn't work...

"Once again it is against the policy of StarCourt Mall to have customers in the building this late past close and I will have to call Mall Security to come and escort you out regardless of your choice ma'am. So we can either proceed with your return and you get the money back that you paid and not a cent more or I tell my staff and security that you are no longer welcome in this place of business. And security will have to take your picture as they escort you out."

...You simply slayed the beast. With a smile. Although Eddie believed you were actually just baring your teeth in warning.

There was that shiver up his spine again, and were those goosebumps on his arms?

He sort of hoped to be on the receiving end of those teeth sometime soon.

Regardless, your customer was left speechless as you processed her return and called security to escort her to the exit. Eddie smiled smugly as they passed him by.

It didn't take long for the lights of your store to finally shut and for you to duck under the gate before locking it.

He didn't even get a chance to congratulate you on your victory and tell you how absolutely epic you were before you were walking face first into his chest and sighing as your arms went around his waist in a hug.

“Hey,” he chuckled and put his arms around you, one hand instantly rubbing up and down your back.

“Hi.” Your reply was muffled and you squeezed him a bit harder.

"Y'ok there?"

"Yeah," you responded quietly and rubbed your cheek against his t-shirt. “You wanna get DQ?” You looked up at him for a second.

“I could use a blizzard,” he agreed.

“Cool,” you sighed and settled back against him. “People suck.”

“They do.”

The two of you stayed like that in relative silence for a few minutes and as much as Eddie wanted to go on--to tell you that the lady was out of line, that she was entitled, and that he could never handle it as smoothly as you did--he knew that wasn't what you needed right now.

He momentarily wondered that it wasn't all bad, not being your knight, when he could instead be the home you returned to after battle.

And he would happily do it, even if you never asked him to.

"You know," he finally broke the silence. "I've heard people threaten to call security many times. Mostly on the receiving end, sometimes as an innocent bystander."

"Oh yeah?" You finally looked up at him, nose wrinkling with a smile.

"But I think that was the first time it almost gave me a boner," he admitted.

"Eddie!" you pushed away from him and slapped his arms as you laughed, eyes shining with joy. Your worries were not forgotten, he knew, merely smoothed over by, hopefully, your adoration for him. "You fucking perv!"

"I said almost," he defended.

He would be there. Happily.

Next Part: Team Building

[fourmoony]

Friends or What?

James Potter x F!Reader

A coming of age story in which Potter's Corner Shop has a funny way of bringing people together. Falling in love is daunting when everyone is watching.

Ao3 Link - Series Masterlist - Fourmoony's Masterlist

Chapter Warnings for Chapter Two -

Language. Internalised homophobia. Mentions of physical and emotional abuse. Smoking. Use of the word 'fag', in context to a cigarette (UK Slang)

CHAPTER TWO (4K) -

JAMES

Sirius is quiet in the taxi home. He’s quiet when they shuck their shoes off in the entrance hall of the Potter Estate. He’s quiet as he footers around the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He’s quiet while he and James stand side by side in their conjoined bathroom, brushing their teeth and washing their faces. He’s quiet, quiet, quiet, and James is starting to worry. The thing about Sirius is – is that he’s loud. In every possible way. Aged eleven, Sirius Black had come bounding into James Potter’s life with his boyish grin and loudmouth attitude, two middle fingers held up to the world and they’d been inseparable since.

James is loud like the sun. He’s funny and he’s charming in a warm, light, happy sort of way. He’s sturdy and reliable, he’s soft and he’s gentle. Sirius is loud like the laughter of a ten-thousand-man crowd. He’s abrasive and he’s obnoxious, he’s rough around the edges but he’s so fucking loyal that James never really stood a chance. He was destined to be Sirius Black’s brother, his best friend, his twin flame. Sirius is rebellious, he’s never been anything except what he wanted to be. He’s jagged and he’s loud and he’s James’ best mate in the entire world.

James knows Sirius like the back of his hand. So, he knows that quiet is not good. Sirius is complex. His past hasn’t been kind to him, and while he’s not the same sixteen-year-old boy that showed up on James’ doorstep seven years ago, battered and bruised, traumatised and a shell of himself, James still worries about him sometimes. Sirius talks about his family less and less as the years go on. James would like to think that, in a way, he’s healed from the trauma of Walburga and Orion Black. There are parts of Sirius that will never come back; his boyish innocence and the warmth he once exuded from his very soul, but James knows that Sirius is better. He doesn’t have nightmares anymore, he doesn’t hide himself away, he doesn’t stash bread and sweeties under his floorboards, he goes to therapy once a week and he’s making changes, for Christ’s sakes.

But James knows, he knows it deep into his fucking core, that the reason Sirius hasn’t told him about Remus, the reason he’s being so quiet, now, is because of his upbringing. It’s a subject he knows will have to be dealt with carefully, untwined with gentle fingers like plucking the thorns from a rose. One wrong word and James is scared Sirius will flee. He doesn’t like change, he doesn’t like lack of control, and if he’s kissing Remus Lupin for any other reason than to get under the poor bloke’s skin, then James is willing to bet Sirius is feeling an overwhelming amount of both.

So, he waits for Sirius to come to him. He sends him off to his own bed with a quiet ‘goodnight’ because he can wait. He will wait. Sirius isn’t ready and that’s okay. The two years James spent without Sirius were, by far, the hardest of his life. The Black’s decided this village was a bad influence, that it bred insubordination, was infecting Sirius’ mind with thoughts of growing up and doing anything but working in politics like the rest of his family. They moved to central London, in the borough of Islington, and that’s where things got really bad. Sirius doesn’t speak about London, much. Only to his therapist, which is fine with James. But he knows about all the stuff that happened when the Black’s lived in the village, he was there for it all; the broken bones, the bruises, the cuts, the scars, the rapid weight loss, he saw it happen, held Sirius through it, took the pieces of his own armour and filled in the gaps on Sirius’ because whilst Sirius is chaos, James is calm and he’s loyal, and he’s strong. And then Sirius left. And then Sirius came back to him. Then. Then, Sirius came home. So, James can wait. He can do it. Because James and Sirius tell each other everything, do everything together, but this is something that Sirius might just have to figure out on his own.

The house feels too quiet, the air around him too heavy, as James lies in bed. He tries to read, he fails, he polishes his rugby boots for training in the morning, and he fails. He can’t stop thinking about Sirius’ face; the frazzled, lost sort of look that plagued him when James had asked if he was okay, if he needed to talk about anything. James watched as Sirius fought and lost the battle of following Remus out of the Three Broomsticks and felt the pain heavy in his chest when he had to stop Sirius, himself.

“Not tonight. Let him cool off.” James had whispered, and Sirius didn’t have it in him to argue.

He tries to read, again, and he fails, again. He loves Sirius so much. He worries. He always worries. Because, sure, Sirius is a lot better, now, but he’s complex, he has trauma, and he’s visibly struggling. But James can’t help. Usually, he can always help Sirius. Sirius never shies away from asking for help. He’s on his own this time, scared and struggling and James can’t help him because he hasn’t asked and James refuses to push.

He tosses and he turns, and he sits up, he lies back down, he paces, he sits down, and eventually, he falls asleep, only to wake up when the bed dips beside him.

When his eyes open, he realises he’s fallen asleep with his glasses on because he can see the way the dawn breaks over the orchard outside his bedroom window. There’s frost on the grass and the sky is still a deep blue, getting lighter the further down he looks. Sirius is next to him. He doesn’t have to look over to know. James can tell by the pattern of his breaths, the smell of his shampoo, how far the bed dips. James Potter would know Sirius Black’s presence were he deaf and blind. He always will. He has a feeling Sirius, much like him, feels the weight that’s suffocating them.

He doesn’t look over, just waits for his best friend to say something. He can hear the cogs whirring behind Sirius’ pale blue eyes, the thumping of his heart against his ribcage. Sirius doesn’t speak for a long time.

“Do you –“ Sirius starts, but he falls short. He’s unsure, voice wavering, thick with anxiety. He swallows, coughs, tries again; “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

It’s not what James is expecting Sirius to ask. As his best friend, his first instinct is to say, ‘Of course I don’t’, but James knows Sirius Black like the back of his hand, the insides of his eyelids, the warm glow that burns in his chest. He knows how Sirius can be. He knows how cruel his tongue is, how his first instinct when he’s threatened is to go for the throat. So, James deliberates.

“I think you’re a good person who horrible things have happened to. Sometimes, you allow those things to control the way you act. But no. I don’t think you’re a horrible person, Padfoot.” James answers honestly.

He watches the breeze blow through the orchard trees as the sun continues to creep up between the branches. Sirius breathes a sigh of relief, shuffles closer to James so he can feel the warmth of him. He finally looks down at Sirius, head rested on the same pillow as James, and he smiles softly. Sirius smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks tired, lost, scared. James wants to fix it all so bad. But he can’t. He has to let Sirius do it, himself.

When Sirius ran to him seven years ago, James made himself a promise. Nothing, and no one, would ever harm his best friend again. Not over James Potter’s cold, dead, body. But he can’t stop this, can he? He can’t wrap Sirius up and protect him from his own heart, his own mind. He doesn’t have that much power and it’s killing him.

“Remus thinks I’m a horrible person.” Sirius says, voice so quiet James thinks he believes it. Like Remus’ word is final.

He sighs, rubs the tiredness from his eyes, “Did he tell you this?”

“No,” Sirius answers, voice a moment from sleep, his eyes closed, and his face so sad and soft James feels his heart splinter, “I see it in the way he looks at me.”

“You could prove to him that you’re not.” James advises, voice soft.

Sirius makes a humming noise of acknowledgement, but ultimately, James knows the conversation is over. He’s dead to the world ten minutes later, and James follows suit not long after.

-----

SIRIUS

When Sirius was ten, he realised what it truly meant to be a member of the Black family.

It was more than fame, or politics, or even money. It was more than presenting themselves as a prestigious, well-educated family. For the Blacks it was about one thing: Power. They have an ability to play games with people that don’t even know they’re a part of them, closing in, moving pieces, counting cards until finally, they win. The Blacks always win. For as long as he can remember, every conversation Sirius Black has ever had with another member of his family has held some sort of purpose. Manipulation, information gathering, seed planting. The list goes on.

When you grow up in that environment, carefully wrapping your lips around poisoned words, watching your back with every move, the thing is – it becomes hard to trust. It gets hard to distinguish the difference between someone trying to get to know you, and someone trying to learn every dirty little secret you have so they can use it against you.

So, Sirius was ten when he learned the hard lesson of keeping his mouth shut, keeping his secrets close to his chest. Because the beating he took for telling Mary Riddle that his mother nicknamed her husband, Tom Riddle Sr., ‘The Snake’, was unpleasant at best. Secrets, or spilled secrets, never end well. He likes to keep his secrets close to his chest. Perhaps that has more to do with Walburga than he’d ever be willing to admit – because while the Black’s liked to know everyone else’s secrets, not a soul alive could tell you any of theirs.

It took Sirius one year to tell James how bad things really were. Even then, it’s not like he had an option. Too many black eyes, too many sprained wrists and unhealed cuts. James Potter is one of the smartest people Sirius knows. It was only a matter of time before he figured it out. By then, Sirius knew he could trust James, could feel it in his chest. What they have is special, unheard of. Their souls are made of the same things. Sirius knew that just as sure at age eleven as he does, now, age twenty-three.

Sirius doesn’t know why he hasn’t told James, yet.

Honestly, he doesn’t.

He’s tried. Gods, has Sirius tried. But the thing about James is – is that he’s so observant when it’s the big things, the big moments, the bad days, but the smaller, more minute things? Things like Sirius asking him to go for coffee, have a chat – it goes over his head completely. Every time Sirius builds himself up, James bulldozes over his confidence with an enthusiastic rant about rugby, the weather, the shop, and Sirius deflates like a burst balloon. He can’t get angry with James. Not really. Because Sirius has a sneaking suspicion that he’s subconsciously grateful for James ruining the moment over, and over. If he was truly confident in letting his secret spill, he’d just bulldoze James right back. That’s how they work.

But, instead, Sirius says nothing.

Always nothing.

It’s becoming a problem, he’s aware. Especially with the way Remus is staring at him, now, expectant, and impatient. He’s just – he’s not good at opening up to people, at letting them in. There’s something there, though, with Remus. He feels it in the static buzzing between his ribs, the sparks buzzing at his fingertips. He doesn’t know what to do with the energy, doesn’t like the way it makes him feel. A loss of control.

It’s been less than twenty four hours since their… fight. In the Three Broomsticks’ beer garden. Remus called Sirius a pretentious prick, Sirius called Christopher a wet wipe. Remus’ lips felt so angry against his, so frustrated and raw, so. Nice. They haven’t spoken since. Not really. Not in any way that matters. Nothing other than the short, jabbing quips that once, were fun, but now are exhausting. Sirius doesn’t hate Remus. Not really. But he’s not sure he likes him either.

He’s scared and he’s confused, and Remus is looking at him like he should have all the answers and he doesn’t know what to do.

So, he shrugs, “I told you. I don’t know.”

Remus nods, he looks like he’d been expecting that answer. “I’m not just someone you can fuck around with until you figure out whatever posh boy gay crisis it is you’re having.”

Sirius has the nerve to scoff. The thing about Remus is. He’s incredibly good at giving what he gets. Sirius knows he’s cutthroat when he’s been backed into a corner. He has this evil monster in his head, in his chest, in the blood that thrums through his veins – it’s a by-product of being born a Black. Or maybe it’s just him. Maybe he grew up in a house so rotted, with a family so monstrous, that he never had any hope of being more than. But Remus is just as short, just as rude. It’s maddening. It inspires Sirius to challenge him, if only to feel the scorch of his lips, the electricity of his touch.

“I can’t do this right now.”

Remus flicks his fag across the road, pushes himself off the wall, “You’ve been saying that for as long as I’ve known you.”

“You don’t know me.” Sirius feels the need to remind Remus.

Because really, he doesn’t.

Remus Lupin knows jack shit about Sirius Black. Other than what he tastes like. What he sounds like. That he’s rotted and spoiled and probably a horrible person.

So, he knows a little.

But he’s never shown any interest in getting to know the good parts of Sirius. The loyalty. The unwavering fucking loyalty that Sirius gives out like rare change, but when you have it, you have it, and it never falters. The laughter, the jokes, the careful way he cares for each and every person he loves. He’s loud and abrasive, but Remus will never know he can be that way and not be an arsehole about it.

 Sirius won’t force him to see past what he wants to see. He’s accepted that maybe the reason Remus thinks he’s a terrible person is simple. Because he is.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Remus doesn’t say good-bye when he turns, yanks open the door to the shop and steps inside. Sirius hears the faint ringing of the bell, your voice calling out Remus’ name. He gives himself a moment. A moment to look at the door and hope that Remus will come back out and explain very plainly what it is he wants from Sirius. Because Sirius is at a loss. He doesn’t remember much about the night that he met Remus. Just the feeling of pure adrenaline he got from whatever haughty words they exchanged in the smoking area, the half-hearted scoffs and awkward chit chat of getting to know someone you really shouldn’t have any interest in getting to know. Remus was charming. He was quiet and mysterious, and he was rather blunt. Sirius didn’t mind. He likes to talk, likes to push, likes to know everyone’s secrets.

Power. Games. He never really got away from that. Just them.

He doesn’t remember how it got so heated, how they ended up millimetres away from each other’s faces, their breaths mingling and the static electricity winding its way around Sirius’ ribcage. But they did. And Remus’ lips. They were so rough, so demanding. So lovely. He remembers the way it overpowered him, the kiss, shook him to his core and turned his entire fucking life upside down. The thing Sirius can’t shake, though. The thing that tears him up inside – which he refuses to look at too deeply – is the look on Remus’ face when Sirius broke the kiss, took two steps back, announced that he wasn’t gay, and essentially took off running.

The thing is, Sirius isn’t gay.

At least, he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s not.

He can’t be. He won’t be.

When Sirius is positive Remus isn’t coming back out, he leaves.

----

The bell dings above the shop door and Remus returns in a flash of fury. His jaw is set, eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted. It pulls at the scar on his cupids bow, makes it an angrier shade of red than it normally is. Usually, after a smoke break, Remus returns more relaxed, calm, a more pleasant version of the boy you’d originally sent outside to cool off after he kicked a box of freddos across the storeroom twenty minutes ago.

He stalks up to the till, doesn’t even check if there’s any customers present before he announces that, “Sirius Black is a fucking prick.”

You’re perched on the edge of the counter, flipping through a magazine. Sundays are generally slow days. All the week’s deliveries have arrived, the pull forwards have been done, the cleaning is done. All that’s really left to do is sit around and wait for customers to show up. Remus must not be expecting you to reply – probably because you never do when it comes to Sirius – because he huffs a breath before continuing through to the storeroom, likely to take his anger out on another unsuspecting box of chocolate. The door squeaks awfully behind him.

A head of Black hair flashes past the window, barely visibly above the promotion signs James is always tacking up. But it’s there. You see it. Sirius is stalking off in the direction of the Leaky. Remus’ frustration suddenly makes sense. Not saying anything to Remus about what you and James witnessed last night has been torture, especially when he’s been a moody sod all day. Sirius and Remus don’t make any logical sense. But then, you’ve never really given it much thought. Until last night, you were under the impression they’d sooner knock each other out before going at it like horny teenagers in the beer garden.

But you promised James you wouldn’t say anything. So, you don’t. You allow Remus to sulk and fume and take his frustration out on a box of freddos. Because that’s what friends do, you suppose.

Remus returns five minutes later looking cool, calm, and collected. He doesn’t offer an explanation nor an apology for his outburst. Instead, he travels around the counter to stand behind you and be ready to serve, should anyone come inside. You doubt they will, most of the village residents barely leave their homes on a Sunday, let alone past five in the afternoon. The silence is weighted. But then, you think, that’s probably because you know more than you should. Silence with Remus is usually comfortable. It sticks to your skin like humid air and makes you restless, unable to enjoy flicking through your magazine.

“What did he want?” You ask, eyes pointedly focussed on the article about this week’s fashion trends.

You’ve got one leg kicked up on the counter, balancing your magazine, and one dangling off the side, facing Remus, but you refuse to look up; terrified he’ll be able to see right through you.

He hums, “Who?”

“Sirius.”

Remus doesn’t respond for a minute. You imagine he’s trying to piece together how you know he was outside.

“Saw him stalking off towards the Leaky after you came in.” You offer.

“Right.”

“So?”

“So, what?” He asks.

You finally look up; Remus is already staring at you with nothing short of frustration written across his face. He purses his lips, shrugs a non-committal shrug, “The usual. To be a prick.”

“Right.”

“Why does it sound like you don’t believe that?” Remus asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

It’s your turn to shrug. You flip the page of your magazine, eyes downcast. “Just doesn’t seem like Sirius to go out of his way to be a prick.”

Remus scoffs but doesn’t say anything else.

The rest of the shift passes in silence.

James comes to lock up because you forgot your keys at home, this morning, and Monty offered to send James before he left earlier on. It feels like walking on eggshells when he shows up, asks how the day went, and Remus is still in his horrible, sulky mood. You avoid eye contact as you clear lottery tickets and scratch cards from behind the till, making polite conversation as James counts the money inside the tills. He knows you hate numbers – he does it without asking.

Remus doesn’t offer much of a goodbye when he leaves, just tells James he’ll see him on Wednesday and goes. You deflate when the door closes behind him, tension seeping out of your shoulders. James frowns after him, “What’s up with him?”

“Sirius stopped by, earlier.” You fiddle with the clipper display, moving the lighters around as though you have a particular order that you’d like them to be in.

“What did he want?” James asks, locking the till.

You shrug, “They were outside. Couldn’t hear. But Remus has been in a right mood since he left.”

James doesn’t say anything, just sighs and rubs his hands across his face.

Then, “I owe you an apology. For last night. I shouldn’t have been so forceful with you not telling them you know. Sometimes I forget Sirius is an adult who doesn’t need to have his feelings protected.”

He looks earnest, sincere. You hadn’t really thought any bad of James for cornering you the way he did. Honestly, you’d admired how much he cared about Sirius in that moment, how he didn’t think, just reacted in the best possible interest of his best friend.

“S’okay.” You nod, offering James a kind smile.

It’s weird, to have a normal conversation with no one watching, no flirting, no innuendos. It’s nice.

James shakes his head, his half-damp hair moving with him. He looks freshly showered, probably is, you know he had rugby practice today. He’s wearing his rugby hoodie and his gym shorts. He looks boyish and cute, and when he offers you a lopsided smile your heart stutters.

“It’s not. I felt the way you tensed when I grabbed your wrist, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You laugh a little breathily, “That-“ You try, stop, try again, “That wasn’t because I was scared or, or anything. It was just,” You trail off, hoping James accepts that as answer.

How incredibly embarrassing would it be to tell James that you’d been so tense because his touch felt like blazing fire against your skin, made your heart stop, your head spin, your stomach grow butterflies. Pathetic, really.

James looks lost but nods slowly anyway.

“Right, well. That’s us done, so you’re free to go. I’ve a few things to grab from the office and I’ll lock up on my way out.”

“Right, cheers. See you tomorrow, Jamie.”

James’ face brightens at the nickname, his smile wide and teasing, “Tomorrow.”

[thebunnednun]

Whispers of the Heart Dracule Mihawk x Fm! Reader (Part 1)

I could eat this fucking man up with a golden spoon.

Art by @xuchuan25 I hope you don't mind I really love your artwork!

ITS FINALLY GETTING POSTED

You've been Dracule Mihawk's personal maid and housekeeper for what feels like an eternity. Let's cut to the chase – you're a badass, sweetheart. Sexy, cool, and confident, with a reputation that precedes you. Been friends with the stoic man for eons by now.

Everyone knows you or knows of you, and it's not just because you keep Mihawk's castle running like a well-oiled machine.

So what happens when you develop feelings for your old friend and boss?

What does he do when he comes home to find you in his room without your panties?

__________________Chapter 1: Veiled Emotions___________________

You've been Dracule Mihawk's personal maid and housekeeper for what feels like an eternity. Let's cut to the chase – you're a formidable force, with a demeanor that's as captivating as it is commanding. Sexy, cool, and confident, your reputation precedes you wherever you go. It's not just because you keep Mihawk's castle running like a well-oiled machine; it's because you're a legend in your own right.

You and Mihawk share a history that stretches back to the tumultuous days of your youth, when you roamed the seas as a pirate queen. Despite the allure of power and prestige, you turned down an invitation to be a warlord, realizing that it wasn't the path for you. Sure, you could bring anyone to their knees with ease, but you craved something more than mere conquest.

Don’t get it twisted, you could still fight with one arm tied behind your back and you kept a blade on you at all times. But you wanted to live your life and until you figured out what to do, you were on hiatus. You wanted adventure, companionship, and a sense of purpose beyond just being a good pirate. So, you took a pause from piracy, sending your crew back home with ample spoils and staying in touch through letters that serve as a testament to your leadership.

(Who can blame them? Good bosses are hard to come by!~)

As for you, you couldn’t bear the idea of sailing alone aimlessly through the grandline. What would be the point if there was no one there to share it? It would kill your love of adventure and you’d capsize your own ship before that ever happened.

You also saw the way the world was slowly going to shit and just needed a break. Over time, as a favor to your old friend, you began to take over the castle duties while he was out, handling everything from the cleaning to the paperwork with effortless grace.

You’ve been at it for about three years now.

Mihawk was a very particular man and at the same time he wasn’t. Old eagle eyes likes his wine just so and his jackets to be put away according to color. But he won’t play the worlds game on anyone else's terms but his own. That, you both have in common.

As for the warlord incident, your notoriety stemmed from an encounter with the infamous battle ax Morgan. His bruised ego led to a reckless attempt to have you arrested after you turned down his advances and refused to entertain his delusions of an exclusive relationship. Morgan couldn't handle rejection, especially from a woman as striking as you. However, you swiftly dealt with the situation, turning the tables on him in a manner that became the stuff of legends among pirates and marines alike.

In retaliation for his embarrassment, Morgan unleashed a storm of accusations, plastering your face on wanted posters across every marine outpost. Your captivating appearance, with your (H/c) locks and (E/c) eyes, only served to amplify the fervor surrounding your bounty. Despite the chaos that ensued, you stood your ground, refusing to let Morgan's vendetta dictate your fate.

It was during this tumultuous time that Mihawk extended a lifeline, offering you a sanctuary within the walls of his castle.

Having just laid off your crew, this job offered you somewhere to stay and he could provide some sort of protection while you figured things out. All in all, it was a very sweet deal.

But beneath the surface of this professional arrangement, there are tensions simmering tensions of the sexy variety. You've noticed Mihawk's lingering stares when he believes you're not watching, and felt the subtle brush of his touch as you pass each other in the grand halls of his castle.

And yet, despite the undeniable chemistry between you, neither of you has dared to act on your feelings. After all, you're the maid, and he's the master of the castle. But as the days go by and the tension between you reaches its boiling point, you find yourself wondering how much do you and your boss really care for each other?

Whether it's a late-night encounter in the dimly lit corridors of the castle or a trip to the market in the bustling streets of the nearby town, each moment serves as a reminder of the unspoken bond that exists between you. The man could live in silence if he wanted to.

But you would miss that lovely deep voice.

On a crisp morning, as Mihawk made his way through the halls of his castle, he couldn't help but notice you weren't bustling about, but your vibrant laughter was echoing through the corridors. oon, he found himself standing in the doorway of the kitchen, where you were engrossed in the task of sorting through a stack of mail, undoubtedly from your former crew members.

With a pen poised in one hand, you worked with practiced efficiency, your every movement is a testament to your grace. Across from you, a forgotten cup of coffee awaited, a silent companion to your morning routine and some left over pie from last nights dinner.

"[Name], do try to be more discreet with your antics," Mihawk remarked, amusement lacing his tone as he observed your playful demeanor. You turned to face him, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you met his gaze.

"Oh, but where's the fun in that, 'Master' Mihawk?" you retorted, a playful smirk gracing your lips. Today, you were adorned in a cute black top paired with low-rise flared acid wash jeans, the lace crosses on the back pockets adding a touch of sexy to your ensemble.

Your ears sparkled with golden hoops and diamond studs, a testament to your bold sense of style. Around your neck, a delicate chain held a gold and slider cross, a thoughtful gift from Mihawk himself. Your fingers were adorned with an array of rings, each one a testament to your unique personality and taste.

With a touch of sparkly nude eyeshadow and deep pink lip gloss, you exuded an air of effortless beauty. Even your nails, with their French tip design and hints of pink and sage green, spoke to your attention to detail and love for all things glamorous.

Look, you’re an ex-pirate but still a pirate. You like gold, okay!

Mihawk couldn't suppress a subtle eye-roll at your retort, his stoic demeanor momentarily softened by your infectious energy. Despite the playful banter, there lingered a mutual respect in your exchange, a testament to the genuine friendship that had developed between you.

Of course, he certainly didn't allow his thoughts to wander to the sensation of your lips against his skin, despite the tempting notion.

His eyes totally didn’t flick over your lips and wonder what it would have felt like to have your sticky kisses decorate his body.

Instead, he held his typical emotionless expression and took a seat across from you. Looking at the counter he noticed you only had coffee and leftover pie for breakfast.

“Not very hungry, my dear?”

You waved your hand dismissively, eyes glued to the letter before you. “I felt kind’ve sick last night. But don't worry, Perona had a proper breakfast.” You and his young ward had become instant friends when you first arrived. She was happy to have some real company and you even gave her a key to your chambers for emergencies and late night cookies.

Mihawk acknowledged your words with a subtle nod before returning his attention to the newspaper in his hands. It was a habitual gesture that never failed to amuse you, considering his apparent disinterest in the affairs of others. Yet, despite his indifference, he maintained the routine with unwavering consistency.

As his intense gaze bore into your face, you deliberately focused on the task at hand, busying yourself with another letter and the remnants of your pie. Ordinarily, the weight of his stare might have unsettled someone, but you recognized that beneath the facade of the "greatest swordsman in the world" lay a man with his own quirks and idiosyncrasies, much like anyone else.

Spooning another bite of your pie, your cheeks offered a very pleasant rosy glow in the early morning light. When you arrived at Kuraigana Castle, you told Mihawk to ditch the darkness. Straight up refused to live in the depressing atmosphere and threatened to throw out his old dusty ass curtains if he didn’t get his shit together. Mihawk had initially resisted the changes but told you to do as you pleased when you threatened to give him and Shanks matching arms.

(That would be some Naruto and Sasuke shit right there.)

However, he was all the more glad to see your features in the light. You weren’t unbearable to his feelings either. You respected that he needed some shade and allowed the dining room to have a night blend of night. The whole of the castle was like that now with some areas being bright and cheerful and others more dark and deserted. Even Perona gravitated towards the lighter rooms to find you cleaning or simply wanting your attention.

In the quiet moments between your duties, you find yourself reflecting on the depth of your connection with Mihawk. You remember the countless times he's shown you kindness, the way he's trusted you with the inner workings of his castle, and the rare glimpses of vulnerability he's allowed you to see. And as you ponder these memories, you can't help but wonder if there's more to your relationship than meets the eye.

The man truly does value his space. Even when you would bump into old friends like a certain clown he insisted you did not swap addresses for the sake of, "That Blue haired freak," not popping up unannounced. Or how he'd always been close by when you were teenagers and running rampant with a red haired young man. The times where he would escort you to social events only to slip away with you before the party was over. It was him offering you a place to stay after becoming a wanted woman for crimes you did not commit.

Moments where you found yourself bathed in the golden warmth of his eyes.

But just as you begin to contemplate the possibilities, your mind intervenes once again. Flashing you back to a few months ago. It was a frigid winter evening when you found yourself ensconced in the castle's library, surrounded by the flickering glow of candlelight and the comforting scent of weathered tomes. The air hummed with an unspoken tension, each movement you made sending ripples of awareness through the stillness.

Winter was always harsh on you, coming from an island that never really subscribed to the notion of cold weather. You were more built for tropical weather and humid conditions. Where on one side of your island it could be raining and the other could be sunny and dry. You'd never even seen snow before until you set out as a young pirate.

The old castle was too large to light fires in all the rooms, so it made more sense to keep them limited to the common areas like the kitchens, drawing room, your bed chambers, and (of course) the library.

You were laying in the warlords lap, actually. A thick book in his hand and a left over crossword puzzle in yours. Every now and then, he would softly stroke your spine as if you were a freighted cat. You'd taken to curling up like this out of habit and because of your dislike of cold weather.

Mihawk loves personal space but you'd taken to perching on him for years. If you asked to rest your head on his shoulder, he would respond with a soft hum of agreement, though he pretended not to notice as you snuggled closer, seeking the warmth of his embrace.

Even at social gatherings, you had no qualms about stretching out your legs across his lap, feeling his big, strong hands gently resting on them for all to see. And if luck was on your side, he might even share a dance with you, his presence grounding you and filling you with a sense of contentment amidst the chaos of the party.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Mihawk breaks the silence, his voice a low, husky murmur cutting through the quiet. "You know," he begins, his words carrying a weight of sincerity, "I've always admired your compassion and resilience."

His unexpected admission catches you off guard, your breath hitching momentarily as you process his words. Gathering your composure, you respond in kind, your voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of the library's hushed ambiance. "And I've always admired your grace and composure, Master Mihawk."

For an instant, the air between you crackles with an electric energy, the unspoken truths hanging palpably in the space between you. As if drawn by an invisible force, you sit a little taller, the weight of the moment pressing down upon you. Then, without warning, Mihawk reaches out, his hand enveloping yours in a gentle grasp.

A rush of warmth floods through your veins at his touch, a silent reassurance amidst the quietude of the library. His thumb traces soothing circles on the back of your hand, a gesture both comforting and intimate, before he releases you, returning to his book as if nothing had transpired.

You 'playfully' bit his large thigh over that.

Moments like that with Mihawk were rare but not uncommon somehow. You were always respected by him for your personal strength and reliance. Mihawk respected dedication and honor. You had a multitude of qualities he secretly liked, not that you were fully aware, anyway.

His voice intruded on this memory to snap you back to the present.

"Perhaps it's time we ceased this dance, [Name]," he murmurs, his gaze smoldering with a flicker of desire. "Perhaps it's time we embraced what has lingered between us all this while."

Your heart quickens its pace within your chest as you lock eyes with him, a whirlwind of thoughts cascading through your mind. In that pivotal moment, teetering on the edge of something unknown and exhilarating, you recognize the undeniable bond that binds you to Mihawk—a connection that defies the constraints of social hierarchy and ignites with an intensity that cannot be suppressed.

Or so you envisioned, until he swiftly swipes the last piece of your pie and runs from the kitchens, prompting you to vault over the counter in a spirited attempt to stab his trachea with your fork as he began running down the hallway.

“I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON IT, ASS-EYES!”

Making to the stairs, Mihawk closed his eyes and let out a soft hum before delving into his (your) pie, savoring each bite with a sense of contentment. Your presence offered a refreshing reprieve from the weighty responsibilities that burdened him, your playful banter injecting a lighthearted energy into the morning. You trying to stab him was thought of affectionately, as well.~

What a delightful breakfast it was within the walls of Castle Kuraigana!

Later, as Mihawk retreated to his chambers, a persistent curiosity lingered within him, tugging at the corners of his mind. What was it about you that captivated him so, he wondered? And why did your essence linger in his thoughts long after you had disappeared from his sight?

Lost in contemplation, Mihawk was roused from his reverie by a soft murmur that drifted through the open window, drawing his gaze downwards. There, he spied you and Perona engaged in conversation, your voices carrying on the breeze.

"...and I heard that he's quite taken with someone," Perona remarked mischievously, casting a glance towards the castle. The pair strolled through the tall grass grounds hand in hand, a scene that elicited a faint smile from Mihawk. He could tell from your firm steps that you had decided to go barefoot. Your quirks never failed to amuse him.

In the spring and summer, you had a steadfast refusal to wear anything other than cute heeled sandals or durable tennis shoes. This wasn't just a matter of practicality; it was a reflection of your upbringing on an island where both children and adults embraced the freedom of going barefoot during the hot months. The fact that Mihawk effortlessly recalled these details about you spoke volumes about the depth of his observations, even if he didn't consciously realize it.

Unconsciously, he found himself craning his neck so you may take up his vision.

As Perona guided you through the tall grass, she paused at a patch of wild daisies, prompting a soft chuckle to escape your lips. Your gaze drifted into the distance as you replied, "Well, I suppose we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

Mihawk felt a sudden skip in his typically cold heart at your words, a glimmer of hope stirring within him. Could it be that you harbored feelings for him as well? The mere thought sent a rush of warmth through his veins, fueling his resolve to uncover the truth behind your feelings.

With a newfound determination, Mihawk silently vowed to delve deeper into the enigma of your emotions, eager to unravel the mysteries of your heart.

______________________________________________________________

Part 2: Posted Here Part 3: Posted Here

Part 4: Right here baby!~

The coffee and leftover pie part are a nod to Laufys ,"Let you break my heart again," give it a listen as it goes well with the story.

This is also posted on the a03 account by the same name. A new update post will also be out tomorrow regarding updates and new stories.

Please check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please.

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33