#they’re both arguing at the door back to the living world

[kadextra]

I hope you all know ever since richas asked q!bad to please pull q!forever’s soul back if he dies I have not stopped thinking about that possibility

[iicarused]

##let us adore you

jeff the killer x reader / eyeless jack x reader / ticci toby x reader / UNEDITED

synopsis: general headcanons in which how you met them

beware: DARK THEMES / yandere traits, stalking, implied manipulation, mentions of murder &&* gore //: if there is any that i missed, please let me know !

envelope from the author: masky, hoodie, and kate chaser will be pt 2 of this:)

JEFF THE KILLER

he met you at a convenience store, how funny. this man planned on killing the cashier, take the cash and leave a meal for his cannibal friend out back, then hop to the next town over. yet, you walked through the aisles of the store at the dark of the night. do you know what kind of creeps are out here at this hour?

he waited for you to leave before he got the job done. you should feel relieved, you should feel like the most luckiest person in the world and it’s because he spared you.

“no, i’m staying back.” he would tell his eyeless friend. “it’s my business to know and for you to fuck off,” he’d argue. “i have a… dilemma.” jeff confessed. for someone he only caught a glimpse of, for a voice he only heard a faint whisper from, he didn’t know whether to stay just for you or to leave while he can.

you were a plague in his mind, because he searched for you. it took three days at most to finally find the dorms you stayed in, and another three to know your roommates schedule. everyone in the area was shaken from the murder, everything including you. but why?

he could not understand why you would lock your windows and double check if the door was locked. both of you lived in a secured building where security littered the grounds and constantly checked ID. jeff would know, he stole a carbon copy of himself (in terms of dressing style) just to make sure of your safety on campus.

“hey, watch it!” jeff barked at the random who sped by you. he fixed his mask and came to your aid, a gloved hand coming over yours to help you up from the grass.

“oh, they’re probably just late to class,” you breathed. “it’s fine, but thank you.”

through the thin lens of his sunglasses, jeff drank in your appearance. “they could’ve bumped you on to the curb side — it really ain’t, sweetheart.” you smell great by the way.

“but they didn’t.” you finally looked at him and smiled. “are you a med student?”

you’re so sweet. so pure, and he wanted to corrupt that. he wanted to see those pretty doe eyes flutter up at him like that again, for the sweetness behind your gaze was enough for him to melt. he wants you, no, he needs you.

EYELESS JACK

you were a curious one, a little too curious in this scenario. a detective in a case of which you were to figure out why bodies were missing organs — or why people were waking up with soreness to their abdomen to only find a stitched up wound.

you took this case as an eager detective who wanted to solve the biggest mystery of north america — but you felt as if you just signed your life away. in the next eight victims that fell to their demise, you made notes of when and where it occurred. it would not be until a night after talking with the sheriff and little too much rum, you found something.

to your horror, the first letter of every street spelled something. two words that nearly sent you running if it weren’t for something stopping you from leaving

“found you.” his voice was a gentle whisper, and almost incoherent if it weren’t for the dead silence in the room. you dared not turn but you felt if you didn’t, it would come closer.

the pistol is on your desk and you’re ready to make a ruckus for anyone on the street to hear. “what? was this just some silly little game for you to show me you could spell?” there were only two regrets you had in your entire life.

the first regret was that you wished you never lied to your mother of who broke the plate that was on the floor. the second regret was turning around and facing a being that was too intricate for you to understand.

“i like playing with my food.” he replied before lunging at you.

you made it out alive — but at the cost of remembering how those sockets were nothing but a void. the liquid that cried on to your face when he was on top of you, and that second, you took your pen and stabbed his side. — but that encounter made you more determined than before

this case turned into a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you know who is cat or who is the mouse. chasing each other became a source of entertainment, and conversations ensued between physical fights

he never intended on killing you, oh no. you were too… fun. the chatting, the hunting each other, the thrill of it all made him go crazy. with time, maybe he can finally sink his teeth into your skin without the murder aspect. he just wants to taste you.

TICCI TOBY

your name appeared on the file of people to “take care of.” why? he doesn’t know and quite frankly, he cannot care. you were just another name on the list that needed to be gone.

he would not lie that it took him ages to find you. the town you were supposedly at was a total flunk, and when he told the boss, he was told to figure it out. at this rate, he wanted you gone for the sake of his own sanity. yet, after a month and hopping two towns, he finally found you.

everything he had on file sprouted nothing but lies because you were a doll, quiet literally if he fixated on your skin. he watched the way you moved and the way you made it seem effortless to walk on two feet. he often tripped over his when gawking over you. your scent is just how he imagined it when he peered over your sleeping form.

you made him forget why he was in search of you in the first place. toby fantasized a lot about you: your curves, your voice, your walk, your life. he often daydreamed of it when watching from afar, especially when you went through mundane tasks such as grocery shopping. the only time he remembered why he was told to end you was when he questioned why you were such a threat.

turns out you were friends of a friend who was a foe to his boss — the eyeless man. he made it no secret when in turn he went to find jack, but he didn’t expect to meet you so soon! oh, this is way too soon, how does he look? is it okay, this setting isn’t the right place, i mean, you were supposed to be

“toby? just toby? that isn’t quiet threatening for a man like that, isn’t it?” you werent speaking towards him, but instead asking jack who snorted in return.

you were a prize on the shelf, and toby wanted to keep you behind glass doors. “listen — pal, friend — how about we make a deal.”

while jack couldn’t see it, your gaze was locked with toby’s the entire time. there was something behind them, something that you couldn’t quite place. you weren’t sure whether if it was a good or bad thing considering the work you found yourself in.

“i give you a useful warning from a boss, and i... tag a long sometimes.”

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Too Far.

Summary: He's like a wounded animal when he's angry, lashing out when he feels cornered. He's gone too far this time, snapped and said something he definitely didn't mean, so now he has to fix it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Fighting. Daryl is a dick, but not really, but also he is. Apologetic!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Sex.

A/N: Inspired by an excellent post by @love-norman which I'll link in the comments. I wasn't sure if you were okay with smut, so there's a fairly brief mention of sex but nothing overly explicit.

-

He’s a surprisingly effective communicator, once she can convince him to talk more and with enough time to work out exactly what ticks and grunts mean what. Daryl Dixon’s entire bag is self-sacrifice, so if he can assume that she needs him to tell her what’s going on in the always too busy head of his, he can do that for her without much care for how it impacts him. It’s not his most healthy coping mechanism but it certainly isn’t his worst and the reward? Oh, the reward is sweet. The reward is comfort and kindness and being held; being loved. What’s a moment of discomfort for a lifetime of her?

He's had to practice letting his walls down, slowly but surely since he met her, all the while failing to realise she was just digging her way underneath them. She didn’t ever pry, not really, not in any way that felt invasive, but she’d patiently wait him out; ask the question quietly, softly, and let him linger in the comfortable silence until he chose to answer back. Sometimes she’d work out the information without his need to speak at all; it happened the moment he realised he was fucked, that he was absolutely, irrefutably hers. She’d worked out exactly who he was as a person and he’d barely sad a word.

He’s attentive, and whilst that shocks him it comes as no surprise to anyone around him. He has spent his life fearing that he is exactly who he feared, but those who are lucky enough to consider themselves, correctly or not, close to Daryl never fear for much but his wellbeing. That he is a careful, thoughtful and tender partner surprises nobody but him. That’s not to say they don’t argue, the end of the world comes with its own set of tensions even without the usual relationship concerns, but he’s learnt not to bite first.

-

He shouldn’t have drunk anything, in hindsight, they’re both in bad shape, overwrought and under-fed and they shouldn’t have been at a fucking party, of all places. He definitely shouldn’t have had the four glasses of scotch Reg offered him on a mostly empty stomach. He can’t get used to the Alexandria walls, the houses he never could have afforded to breathe near let alone buy, the soft comforts he’d never had even before the end of the world. He’s never been to a party that hasn’t had a piss-stained couch or an overly full ashtray.

“You know that’s bullshit, Daryl, you’re being ridiculous!” She yells, firmly back in their own living room after he’d practically stormed out of Deanna’s. One minute they’re in full swing, standing talking about vacations from the old days with some new faces, the next his hand is dropping from around her waist and thudding from the front door like she’d said, ‘fuck off’ rather than the word ‘Canada’. He’d slammed the door behind them and snarled about how he would have embarrassed her and her fancy fucking vacations in ‘the real world’.

“Lil’ miss travel abroad and see th’ world cause she’s better than Daryl fuckin’ Dixon”

“What? That’s not-“

“I’m jus’ an idiot redneck with nothin’ an’ you’re this smart chick who saw the world, I get it, I ain’t dumb, th’ fuck would ya have wanted wit’ me?”

Her heart would shatter for him if she wasn’t seething quite so much, the sheer desperation in his words at odds with the tension in his body, clenched hands dragging through his finally clean hair. His eyes are stinging and he absolutely refuses to cry, has never gotten over thinking it makes him weak even when he feels weak.

“Daryl, what the fuck? Why are you being such an asshole?“

“Shut up, always yappin’ about stupid shit, fuckin’ hate ya sometimes!”

He turns quickly, wants to throw something, wants to scream, broad shoulders and harsh angles and all the wind leaves his body when he sees her flinch away from him. She’s cowers backwards, he feels like he’s going to be sick, body collapsing in on itself as he feels the anger leave his bones, replaced with ice laced panic. For a second, a horrifying second that feels ten times as long, he’s his old man. Shitfaced and angry with a glass in hand and if he had a mirror, he knows exactly whose face he’d see staring back at him.

“I would never hurt ya” he whispers, voice low and so broken, full of conviction as his breath hitches in the middle and crumbles at the end and she’d hug him if she wasn’t so shell shocked. Neither of them move for a beat, standing stock still as he trails his eyes over her, clocks the way her gaze refuses to lift to meet his. He can’t breathe. The room is too small for everything he’s feeling, like the walls are inching close and closer and the air is getting less. He tries to move like lightning but his whole body feels sluggish and slow as he inches past her and out the front door, flinching as it closes behind him and he wanders out into the street. He stares back at the house for a moment before deciding he needs a walk to clear his head.

When he comes back she’s sitting on the couch waiting for him, thumbs twiddling, head still down and worry eating her alive. He eases the door shut behind him, loud enough to tell her he’s home but soft enough to show he’s not mad. He wishes a door could convey remorse but it’s taken him long enough to be able to do it with words he doubts a block of wood would be able to in the timeframe he needs. He shucks off his boots, realising he shouldn’t have been wearing them in the house in the first place.

The fresh air has cooled his body enough that he feels less of the alcohol circulating around his system. He tries not to squeeze the flowers he’d plucked from the bush outside Aaron’s place as he stands with his back against the wood.

“’M sorry” he whispers before clearing his throat and repeating it at a higher volume. She turns her face towards him, looking at him over her shoulder. The anger is gone from her face, replaced with a dwelling worry that spikes at him, makes him replay his words over and over.

“What did I do?”

“Nothin’” he insists quickly, pauses before he realises he should say more, that she sometimes needs him to say more, they’ve talked about this “Ya didn’t, I promise”

“I’m sorry”

That does it, rips him from his safe haven by the door because he can’t stand the thought that she deserved anything he said to her, that she’d said anything wrong when he knows she hadn’t. Talking at a party, about stupid old-world stuff whilst her spare, wine glass free hand kept his back warm. She hadn’t said a damn thing wrong, and he’d scared her.

He strides over to the couch, coming round to kneel in front of her. He places the somewhat squashed flowers on the couch cushion next to her. He hovers a hand above her knee, placing it gently on the fabric of her dress when she doesn’t flinch away at the sight. He doesn’t want her to flinch ever again.

“Dun’ apologise to me when ya ain’t done nothin’ wrong”

“I’m so-“

“Dun’ ever apologise to me when i’s my fault. ‘S my shit an’ I shouldn’t take it out on ya”

She knows he loves her, has proven it time and time again, has put his body in front of hers in the face of almost certain death, would protect her with his last breath, would love her with it. But she knows she’ll never be able to unhear it, that some things you can’t take back, that she’ll always wonder, just a little bit if its true. Logic and love are very rarely intertwined.

“Okay”

He can still hear his fathers words ringing in his head, he knows, more than most, the power that words hold over people. He tries not to say anything he doesn’t mean, and he’ll admit he’s acerbic, pointed sure but never cruel, never unnecessarily unkind. He doesn’t know why tonight was different, but he takes her hands in his, locking his eyes on her so she understands.

“I dun’ get t’ speak t’ ya like that”

“No, you don’t” she agrees, voice firmer, back to her usual tone, the one he’s always loved going hand in hand with the certainty she can hold her own. She pauses, bringing his hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles, soothing because she’s terrified that after all this time, he’s still going to break them by thinking he’s not allowed to claim his hurt “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer, instead sitting back on his feet, raising a small hopeful smile at her.

“Tell me about th’ vacation”

“I don’t-“

“Please. Ya said ya still think ‘bout Canada all th’ time”

He really does want to know, he hadn’t been outside of Georgia before everything went down, and she’s mentioned travel but Canada hadn’t come up; he’s not sure if it was that, that set him off or that he felt inadequate in a room full of people with experiences he never got to have.

“I think it was my favourite trip. Packed a bag and went alone on a whim, found a lake in the forest with a little cabin. Just mountains and trees and lakes. It’s the most peaceful I’ve ever felt. I never wanted to mention it, I know you missed out on so much, but then everyone was talking and I-“

“Nah, go on, ‘S’alright”

“When Reg asked…I was going to say that’s what I picture, when I think of life outside of all of this, me and you in Canada”

“Ya think of that with me?” his voice is low, incredulous awe pulled tight at the edges, he was so busy feeling less than everyone else that he’d missed out on the fact she was thinking of him. She nods, smiling at him, working it out without him needing to say it, figuring out what drove him to snap without asking, under his walls and right in the centre of the internal world he’s built.

“We’d have a house, out near a lake with a wooden porch, and a dog, big scruffy one who likes to catch fish. We’d have coffee together overlooking the water in the morning. You’d work at the local garage, ‘cause you’re good with your hands and tools, wouldn’t have to deal with people all day, fix up all the bikes you’d secretly want...”

He’s staring her at in silence, watching her wistful face glow in the lamplight, he can barely breathe let alone find words knowing that she’s not just dreamt about a life with him, she’s thought it out in detail. He wants it, wants that life with her so badly it aches, thinks it’s the first time he’s wanted anything from life except to get through it.

“I’d work at the bar, play guitar at crappy open mic nights and you’d come for a beer after my shift to walk me home”

He hums, all the response he can manage, guilt chewing at him from the inside, clawing at his mind knowing that he’s taken his own problems out on her, told her he hates her all the while she’s dreaming of something so utterly fucking perfect.

“We’d make dinner together and dance in the living room, go camping at the weekends and make love all night long”

“In another life?” he chuckles, warm and full, knowing he’ll dream about this for the rest of his life.

“In every life…If you’d find me”

“I’d find ya”

-

He runs her a bubble bath, still amazed and confused that he can, that they’ve spent months on the road starving and struggling and here there’s a pantry that has bubble bath. The flowers from Aarons front garden are perched in a glass of water by the bed, the lamps turned off and the doors are locked up as tight as they can be. He’s insistent that he shows his apology, but he’s never had a way to do it outside these walls, nothing beyond words and affection and his experience with what women might like is limited at best.

He stands in the doorway, watching as she wraps herself in a dressing gown. He wonders idly if the amount of love he feels for her could kill him; he feels it so deeply in his bones that he physically isn’t sure it should be able to fit inside of one person. He feels it explode warmth around his body when she shuffles forward to rest her head on his chest.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this? I’m not mad”

Later, when he’s apologised again, reassured her and comforted her and she’s convinced him he’s worth loving in return, he takes them both to bed. Touches her with soft, repentant hands that have always been gentle, hands that are gentle exactly because he knows how dangerous they can be. Atonement seeping from every inch of him as he inches home inside of her, cherishes the contended sigh she lets out at the feel of him. He could never hate her, not even if he tried.

He stills when he bottoms out, rests his forehead against hers as her hips press against his firmly, dragging him as deep as he can go.

“Wha’ ya see in me, anyway?” he whispers against her lips, full of self-doubt.

She looks into him with an intensity that almost hurts, brings her hands to the sides of his face, makes sure he believes her as sincerely as she believes his apology.

“Everything”

[literaila]

honestly- with peace and love- RESPECTFULLY- shut the fuck up (but actually, don’t). Why does the way you write Satoru have a chokehold on me? It’s not fair.

“because,” he says, making a careful path down your jaw. “i’m irresistible.”

his eyes are poison and his lips are cruel, vicious things, so soft and knowing as they follow the trail he’s laid out many times before.

as satoru does what satoru does best.

distracts you.

“says who?”

“you. right now.”

“i’m only allowing this because you were gone for eight days.”

you say it as if you’re scolding him for leaving, for being away and leaving you to deal with the kids.

but your voice is kind of… off. the stern, stone-like tone you’ve learned to take with satoru is softer than usual. maybe a bit broken.

it’s not your fault, though. satoru knows exactly what he’s doing—he knows the places where you’re malleable.

his hands and his lips and his entire being. they’re only there for him to use—against you, in particular.

“you missed me,” he murmurs, like it’s obvious.

and he’s kissing every inch of skin, probably leaving marks like some idiotic teenager, but your thoughts echo his words.

yeah, you did kind of miss him.

“i didn’t,” you say instead, tugging on his hair to pull him away from your skin. just for a moment to breathe. “i like having the bed all to myself.”

satoru is smiling. he’s always smiling. “do you?”

“yes. there was no one there to hog all of the blankets.”

he nuzzles his nose into your cheek—because he knows that it’ll make you giggle. “i don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“my mistress. you don’t know him.”

satoru leans back, a pout on his stupid pretty face. “that’s mean.”

you grin. your form of torture is different, but just as effective. you’ve always been better at words than satoru.

“take it back.”

“take what back?” you ask innocently, skin tingling.

instead of answering, satoru resumes his ministrations. but this time he starts at your forehead, the very beginning.

the kiss he leaves there is a homecoming.

but the next is an attack.

he’d just barely walked in the door when this started, dropping his suitcase on the floor without a care in the world.

you weren’t waiting for him, exactly. still, its a welcome coincidence that he was waiting there, crawling his way back to you.

some kind of synchronicity only fate can explain.

and he’s starting over now, pretending that he can re-do this moment, just so you’ll forget everything you’re supposed to remember.

which you probably will.

“satoru,” you breath out. you want your heart to be used to him by now, after this long. you want to feel calm and collected. to be stoic and easy like you usually are. “i have to go.”

your thoughts are mere wishes—suggestions—and you know they won’t come true.

“go where?” he asks, uncaring, indifferent. “you don’t need to go anywhere.”

“the kids get out of school soon.”

“they can walk.”

you laugh, leaning your head back to give him a better angle. you’ve always been terrible at pushing him away—it’s the entire reason you live here, the only reason your heart has survived this long.

“they can’t,” you whisper back, but it’s no arguement.

satoru hums and the vibration goes down your spine. it follows a different path, another one the very man pinning you against the wall created. “ten minutes.”

“two.”

“five,” he argues, voice wet, hands climbing. there’s no argument there.

your fingers lace through his hair as he sucks another mark into your neck, ever so gentle. it’s always like this when he gets home—there’s no desperation, never some heated make-out with torn clothes and broken gasps.

it’s slow. a calling from the both of you, a song to simply ease the yearning.

some sort of triumph over being together again. some stupid, unreasonable harmony. the only kind you’ve ever wanted to know.

one of his hand is around your waist, under your shirt, running up and down the length of skin there—like he can’t stop. the other is holding your head in place, keeping you where he wants.

it’s stupid, this entire thing.

but for whatever reason, you have no banter to offer him. no reality, no sense.

not that satoru really minds, of course. not that you really mind either.

“you’re so pretty,” he tells you, voice honey-like, smile completely lost. “i missed you.”

“i need—“ he interrupts you with a kiss. his happiness leaks into you like a toxin. “i need to go, satoru.”

“you need to stay.”

“megumi will know it’s your fault.”

“he thinks everything is my fault.”

satoru’s head is tilted down, your eyes on his face, reviewing the places you could draw from memory all over again. “because it is.”

he’s been smiling this whole time but somehow he smiles even more. the way only he can. some scientific fallacy.

isn’t strange that sharing his air is so much easier than breathing on your own?

“of course,” he tells you, lips puffy and pink, pulling you even closer. “i take full responsibility.”

[dellalyra]

Family Formation Part Two

Summary: the first years take a shopping trip, and Megumi calls you mom. Satoru is a little shit, but the best dad.

CW: Motherhood, pregnancy, swearing, talks of menstruation, dad gojo, intense sweetness

A/N: I absolutely did not expect part one to blow up like that but I’m so happy it did!!! I’m gonna turn this into a mini series but pls beware it’s not gonna be in any kinda order, just snippets of you and Gojo’s little puzzle piece family. Comment if u wanna be tagged in future parts!

Part One

You sit in your office on campus, about to finish up to go meet your husband for dinner with the kids (they’re your students, but really, they’re all your kids). Just as you stand up from your desk, the door opens and in walks Megumi, hands in his pockets and radiating teenage angst and uncertainty.

“Hey honey.” You say, slipping your purse over your shoulder, “did Satoru send you to walk me across campus again, because if he did, next time you have full permission to smack him across the head and remind him his wife is a special grade sorcerer too - just because his spawn is currently living inside me doesn’t mean I can’t walk.” You knew your husband meant well, but since your pregnancy was discovered he had all his students on Guard-My-Wife duty when he himself wasn’t available.

“He did, but actually I was going to come to talk to you about something… I have a favour to ask you.” He says as he takes your purse off your shoulder to carry it himself (you know there’s no point in arguing with him, he’s as stubborn as they come and almost as protective of you as Satoru). He’s kicking his shoes against the floor and suddenly he must think the strap of your bag is the most interesting thing in the world. You knew these signs, after 10 years of raising this boy you knew this was him feeling uncomfortable to talk about something.

“Of course, sweetheart - what do you need” A quick squeeze of his shoulder and a small smile reassuring him is spread on your face as you coax him into telling you.

“So eh, do you remember when we came to you and Satoru and you took us shopping and we got stuff and then you showed us both how to make our beds and showed Tsumiki how to braid her hair and all that stuff?” He could barely meet your eyes, this boy was so emotionally constipated you were never sure how he got any words out.

“Of course I do! I remember setting up your room, and we got that sweet nightlight that had the moon and stars for your room and a cloud one for Tsumiki - do you need them? I think they’re in the garage somewhere I can get Satoru to -” you were cut off mid sentence by him.

“No it’s just that, today I saw Itadori in his room and he had no sheets because the only ones he had were being washed and then Nobara is, eh, dealing with some - on her, eh, it’s her time” (you could see him floundering and flushing at trying to tell you Nobara is on her period, so you thought you’d save the rest of his face from becoming the same colour as Itadori’s hair).

“Okay so Yuuji needs bedsheets and Nobara is on her period - is that the issue, honey?” You ask, trying to figure out why you needed to be involved, apart from maybe a quick store run.

“It’s that and like, Nobara keeps getting cuts on her legs after she showers and Yuuji didn’t know what conditioner was so I thought maybe, since you were able to, yaknow, sort things out for me and Tsumiki you might be able to help them? It’s dumb, nevermind, they’re fine. They can figure it out. I’ll walk you to Satoru.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning to walk out the door. But it had all clicked in your mind, what he was hoping you would do.

“It’s not dumb, sweetheart. It’s really sweet, I think I know what you mean and how I can help. So, let’s get to the common area, I’ll text Satoru to pick us all up some food and we can all eat in the dorms together tonight, okay. But first let’s get the other two and we’ll drive to the store, yeah, we can get some things there and also - this little one is telling me very sternly I need to eat some Smokey bacon chips.” You grabbed his elbow, knowing he’s probably FAR too old to let you grab his hand like you did when he was 6 but still wanting to give him the smallest hint of physical affection and guidance since you knew what he asked if you took every ounce of not-fainting-from-embarrassment he had in his body. He was, in his roundabout, beat around the bush way, asking if you’d play mom to his friends who are either completely without family or miles and miles from home at only 15.

After rounding up Yuuji and Nobara and settling them into the back seat of your car, with Megumi up front with you, you drive off. As you get there, you see Nobara clutch her stomach a tiny bit, noticing the symptoms of period pains from a mile away - even with it being 6 months since your last one (thank you Satoru and baby).

“Boys, go find me Smokey bacon chips please, Nobara, will you help me find some baby clothes?” You shoo the boys away, giving you and Nobara some space for girl time, or what you hoped she would come to think of as mom and daughter time.

“Okay so, while we look at these, I noticed you’ve some cramps, have you got pads or tampons and stuff? Some painkillers, a heating pad?” She flushed as you ask, but you knew with a girl like Nobara who eerily reminded you of a mixture of you and 15 year old Shoko, would much prefer a straightforward and direct approach.

“Um, I have some pads sensei but to be honest, they’re kinda annoying for training and missions but, I don’t understand how tampons work like I mean I’ve tried so much but I can’t get it right. I didn’t know what painkillers to use so I snuck one of Gojo-Sensei’s migraine meds, which helped but also made me sleep for 12 hours.” She rambled on, in typical Kugisaki fashion as if these period related things were personally attacking her and she wanted nothing more than to smack them down. You guided her to the period products and told her to get what she needed, get some new razors with aloe strips and all other things she could need that her mom would usually shop with her for, and you’d give her some tips on tampons when you all got back to the dorm, you also told her that if she ever wanted to go shopping with you that you’d love that, to which she hastily agreed with and pointed out that desperately needed some new bras and you arranged for next weekend, adding in that you’d pop into some baby stores and let her go wild on some clothes so your kid could be ‘as fashionable as Aunty Nobara’ which made her jump with glee and talk about how she’s definitely going to be the coolest aunty because you’re gonna be the only other positive influence on the kids life because ‘Megumi has a stick up his ass, Itadori is a moron and Gojo-Sensei is a cringey dumbass, no offence I know he’s your husband, but you and I gotta make sure this kid doesn’t end up like them.’

You soon found the boys and shoved Megumi and Nobara off to find an assortment of candy your husband had text he wanted when you informed him of the store trip and your conversation with Megumi,

“Yuuji, honey, while we’re here - do you need anything? Some new clothes, towels, bedsheets? Satoru is paying.” You didn’t want to just drop Megumi in for telling you the things he did, so you tried to be inconspicuous with your guidance.

Yuuji sheepishly listed off some items he needed, as you picked up some new sheets for him, asking if he was too old for Spider-Man sheets to which he vehemently disagreed because he thought they were the sickest sheets and got the matching comic strip lamp to go with it. Yuuji never failed to bring a smile to your face, being the ray of sunshine he is, his thoughtfulness evident as he took the cart from you and even offered to carry you around the store because he ‘didn’t want you to get tired because sensei you’re GROWING A PERSON LIKE WHAT’.

In the car on the way back, as the kids poked fun at how much had been spent on their teachers card (it was a black Amex, it wasn’t even going to make a dent on the finances), you insisted the kids stop calling you sensei and call you Y/N instead, you never liked being ‘Sensei’ anyway.

Pulling up to the dorms, you open the trunk and everyone starts taking their bags from the back. Satoru swans out the door and dips you into a kiss which Megumi cringes at, Nobara and Yuuji squeal saying how sweet it is, and you return with enthusiasm.

“Well there’s the world’s sexiest momma to be!” He says spinning you as you giggle and he pecks a small kiss onto your belly. “It’s okay baby, daddy’s here now, no more boring Megumi to deal with okay, he’s going to turn out exactly like your Uncle Nanamin if he doesn’t lighten up! Maybe he just needs a kiss too!” Your husband tries to kiss the raven haired teens forehead but quickly gets smacked away and grumbled at with some choice words you’d usually scold him for using.

“Did you guys buy out the store? Which bag has the mochi?” He starts rummaging through the bags, pulling things out until you grab his hands and place two boxes in them which he immediately opens while

You move to take a bag in each hand until Megumi and Gojo grabs them from you.

“Ah! No lifting sweet pea! That’s why we’re here, you’re carrying precious Gojo cargo in there.” Satoru says as he pokes your belly.

“You shouldn’t lift heavy stuff like that, Mom, you’ll hurt yourself, plus Itadori can probably carry all this stuff in himself.” Megumi adds, in a rare occurrence of him agreeing with your husband.

You fully expected Yuuji to run to grab as many bags as he can handle from the trunk after this comment and carry them and probably you inside with a smile and a gentle but loud ‘I got this Sens-Y/N’ and Nobara to chuck the rest of her bags at your eldest son.

But it never came.

You just saw two jaws hanging on the floor, staring between you, Megumi and Satoru.

Megumi just made a judgemental face at his classmates and Satoru just stared at them as if they grew two heads.

“You two okay there?” You ask, jokingly checking their temperature with the inside of your wrist.

“Fushigoru - Fushigoru you said - you, what?!” Was all that came from Itadori before Nobara burst out with,

“You just called her Mom!”

A look of realisation flashed across Megumi and your face, they had never heard him call you mom before, something he’d been doing since you patched up a swollen fist after a fight at 11 years old with dog print bandaids and a soft kiss to the bruise.

Megumi fought the flush on his cheeks and rubbed the nape of his neck.

“So? That’s what you call a woman who raises you, dipshits.” This only seemed to confuse them more.

Gojo just stood back watching the scene through raised eyebrows and a little smirk.

“RAISED YOU? What?” The two other teenagers burst out with questions and sheer confusion, as Megumi silently pleaded to the gods that they would shut up, but instead got help in the form of you and Satoru.

“Satoru and I have been raising Megumi and his sister since he was 6, and that’s why he calls me mom, and why we never said this is our firstborn, because Megumi and Tsumiki were our kids first.” you said pointing between the three people you mentioned.

“How could you not know? Can you not see how much my darling eldest son adores his dearest beloved Papa?” Satoru says scooping Megumi into his arms who proceeds to flail about like he’s being kidnapped by a curse and say how he has never called him that ever and never will.

While your boys were busy teasing and arguing, you turn to the other two who were watching everything unfold in disbelief.

“One of the other reason I fucking hate being ‘Sensei’, because I’m also your best friends mom, not just your teacher - and I’m here for you kids too. For anything, okay? Satoru too, even if he acts like an ass sometimes. ”

You lead them both inside, knowing the scuffle between your son and husband will take some time judging by the swearing from Megumi and the cackling laughter for Satoru.

“Megumi, take it easy on dad, he’s growing old and feeble.” You shout over your shoulder.

“But if he calls you mom, why doesn’t he call Gojo dad?” Itadori asks.

“Oh he does, just not around you guys. He doesn’t want you both thinking he’s the favourite because we raised him. He gives him a Father’s Day card every year and Satoru texts him ‘goodnight kiddo,’ every night and used to sit in his room in our house for hours after we moved him into the dorms. But don’t tell him I told you that - and don’t tell Satoru. He’ll just milk it for months, and they’re both bloody useless with emotions. Nobara, pass me the smokey bacon chips will you, please honey? Let’s all watch a film and eat before I make your sensei drive us home to our house. Do you guys wanna have dinner at our house on Saturday? You could stay over?”

Taglist: @sassy-cat-in-town

[spreadyovrwings]

Honey, I Can Feel Your Pain

A late night heart-to-heart before the end of the world. Or, two idiots try to talk about their feelings but they’re both demons and not very good at it.

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: my writing/me trying to navigate a complicated character, i cringe therefore i am

A/N: literally just ignore me lol i wanted to see if i could write Alastor well so this is something of a personal challenge and a warm up for me (and i’m obsessed with him) so hopefully i’ve done him justice. there’ll be a part two if anyone wants one!

//

Chapter One

The door to Alastor’s studio was always locked to everyone but you. You weren’t sure how he did it. He was a complete technophobe, so a hidden camera was out of the question. Perhaps he’d cast some sort of spell or could sense you coming. You weren’t sure. All you knew was that if you needed to see him, and Alastor permitted it, his door was always open.

That night, the radio tower was dark and still, the only sound a slow, jazzy number sent oozing over the city and into people’s homes.

You found Alastor at his sound desk, one long finger poised idly on a bakelite dial, as if debating whether to alter the sound his tower produced. His ever-present smile was fixed in place but his lips were closed, his deep red eyes focused.

You tapped your foot against the floor, once, twice, three times, announcing your presence as gently as you could so as not to disturb him too abruptly. It didn’t matter that Alastor had to let you in in the first place, it always seemed impolite to come barging in.

He didn’t look up as you approached but you could tell you had his attention, and when you put your hand on the back of the chair next to his, a question, he answered with a short nod.

“Are you alright?”

Alastor barely moved, his eyes fixed on the glowing buttons and dials in front of him.

“Fine, fine.”

He spoke faintly, airily, with no hint of static, as if he were lost in thought. You couldn’t help feeling like you’d interrupted a private moment.

“It’s just you’ve been locked away in your room for days now.”

“Hard at work! Nothing more.”

As if to prove a point, Alastor wrapped his long fingers around the dial and adjusted the volume, then slid his fingers along the desk to conjure up the next song.

This tune was a lot more uptempo. It wasn’t like Alastor to be so sloppy, you must really have caught him off-guard.

Alastor seemed to realise his mistake too. He turned to you, leaning back in his chair, exuding a confidence and poise that many envied and few saw through.

“Is there something I can help you with, my dear?”

His attention was yours. Too late to go back now.

“You’ve been quiet ever since Charlie came back from Heaven.”

“Well, I-”

“And you don’t go quiet,” you pressed on, refusing to let him chart the course of your conversion. “So what’s wrong?”

The two halves of his face told two different stories. Alastor’s eyes were fiery and guarded, he didn’t like being questioned but you’d cornered him. Below, his smile stretched his skin. You wondered if it hurt.

“I’ve been reviewing the situation,” he said after a thoughtful pause, every word considered and weighed.

“You’ve missed dinner four nights in a row for that? I made all your favourites to try and entice you down, you know.”

Alastor hummed. He wasn’t listening.

“Do you know, for almost one hundred years, I have lived here quite happily. I’ve carved out a nice little niche for myself. And then the princess started getting bright ideas…”

Alastor’s long fingers danced over the faders again but he didn’t move any of them. It seemed to be the habit of a lifetime. Two lifetimes.

“The angels… Unsettled me. And you’re quite right, I don’t get unsettled. It required meditation.”

“The angels unnerved you?”

“Unsettled. But I suppose there’s not much point arguing over semantics. Either way, the result n’est pas bon, cher.”

“What did they say that unsettled you?”

One of Alastor’s ears flicked in irritation. It was a rare thing for him to give away even that much. It was a particular kind of personal hell, for him to have a body that could betray him so visibly. He could rattle everyone with his big grin, he could even hide pain behind walled eyes, but the attributes given to him, gifted to him, shackled to him, when he fell, weren't so easy to control.

“It’s not quite that simple, my dear. The angels are all bluster and hollow virtues. I care very little about what they have to say, the self-righteous...”

He took a breath.

“But then they halved the time till the next Extermination. It’s of little consequence to me. They’re clever enough to leave me alone most of the time and if any angels do try their luck, well, they’re quietly done away with. Plus, it’s just plain old good sport to watch the show.”

You smiled.

“Might have to disagree with you there, handsome.”

Alastor laughed humourlessly, a dry, sharp sound like a bow pulled roughly against violin strings.

“That’s just it, I might too. The issue is… Now it’s only a few weeks away…”

The song changed. Low, smooth, like sand through an hourglass, a single trumpet groaned into life, filling the room before disintegrating and travelling along the airwaves. Was it a distraction? Was Alastor struggling to hold his focus? Who knew? Maybe not even him.

“Alastor,” You leaned forward in your chair, undeterred by his hesitancy. “What’s wrong?”

His gaze slowly slid to you. The close-mouthed smile was back. It was the closest he ever came, or ever could come, to relaxing his expression completely.

“It usually doesn’t bother me,” Alastor murmured, his words barely audible over crackling static.

You frowned.

“But this time it did?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Alastor’s nose wrinkled.

“Because before, I didn’t have you. It was easier. I’ve never relied on anyone or had anyone relying on me. Now there’s the hotel, its inhabitants…”

You remedied the sting with a vacant smile of your own.

“When you say ‘you’, you mean all our friends?”

Alastor shook his head.

“No. No, I was attempting to obfuscate.”

“Oh.”

Alastor stared at you. You stared back. Then, with a clang, the penny dropped.

“Oh!”

“Mm.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Quite.”

You smiled at his sour expression. Your own face was burning but you bravely ignored it.

Your relationship with Alastor had been a nebulous, vague sort of a thing. He was a terrifying colleague to have at the hotel, and at first, you couldn’t be sure why in Hell he was there. He liked to watch others struggle, suffer, and fail miserably, it was all just good entertainment for him. But that couldn’t be all there was behind his sudden interest.

As soon as you figured out that Alastor served himself and himself only, things became a lot clearer, and it was a lot easier to like him. You didn’t have to worry about trusting him, because you couldn’t. You didn’t have to question his motives, you knew they were ill-intentioned and that you were better off not knowing. He liked to pretend he was oh so mysterious, but Alastor was perhaps the most honest person in the hotel.

Mutual respect grew into friendship, into something more. You often went out with Alastor when he required assistance or just wanted some company, and you were always the first person he came to when he got home.

Slowly, incrementally, that trust bloomed. Alastor began to ask for your opinion. You would sit together in companionable silence, reading by the fire long into the night. He didn’t need to ensnare and trick and manipulate you, because you did things for him happily and without question, though within reason.

He was always honest with you, or at least, as honest as he could be without it endangering his own self-preservation. And you respected that. It was a harsh world, you had to look out for yourself, but slowly, so slowly that neither you nor your friends had noticed until it was too late, Alastor had bound his life to yours.

You hadn’t appreciated the depths of that connection. You’d always known you had a soft spot for him, ill-advised as it was, but never in all that remained of your afterlife could you have anticipated a requited affection.

Alastor interlocked his fingers and rested them in his lap, keeping his composure well considering the situation.

“It pains me to think of you in danger.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed quietly.

“Steady now, Alastor. You sure know how to sweep someone off their feet.”

He’d never rolled his eyes at you, he was far too refined for that, but Alastor gave his equivalent, waving an airy hand at you and soldiering on.

“We have always been close, you and I. Right from the start.”

“That’s not how I remember it but…” You smiled. “I like to think of us as a little team.”

He brightened, his pained smile morphing into something a little more authentic.

“Exactly! A team! But what was once companionship and, admittedly, amusement-”

“Do you mean we have fun together or do you mean amusement at my expense?”

Alastor waved his hand again.

“A little of column A, a little of column B.”

“Wonderful.”

“What I mean to say is… My feelings have evolved somewhat.”

In all the time you’d spent with him, you’d never known Alastor to be so hesitant. In fact, you couldn’t remember a time when you’d seen him show any sign of apprehension. His stitched-on smile was still intact but his clawed fingers drummed against the sound desk and his gaze had been lost in safer ground, somewhere over your shoulder.

“Evolved into what?”

Though your heart was thudding in your ears, you didn’t hesitate to push him. You thought one of the reasons Alastor had grown to enjoy your company so much was that you liked to talk, as well as listen. He got bored so easily and he’d always been a chatterbox; you were one of the few people in his life who could match him in that without any sign of fear or an ulterior motive.

Alastor’s ear flicked again. This was a hard conversation for him.

“The Extermination meant nothing to me before. But now, the thought of it…”

You watched his eyes grow unfocused as his imagination consumed him. His fingers stopped drumming. The song on the radio rose by a few decibels.

“Alastor, it’s okay-”

“It frightens me. And it’s not about self-preservation this time. When I consider how our companions may fare…”

“They’ll be okay.”

“What if I can’t protect you?”

Sensing you might need to ease off, take a breath, anything, you leaned in closer, reaching out for him but never, ever touching him without asking first. Instead, you rested your hand beside his on the desk.

“I don’t need protection, Alastor.”

“Still, I want to keep you safe, my darling. There’s a… A sharp tug here…”

He pressed one clawed hand against his empty chest.

“And here…”

He dragged the same hand down to the pit of his lean stomach.

“When I think about you in any kind of danger.”

How did he always manage to be so charming, even when he didn’t mean to be?

You barely held back a pleased smile. Like Alastor’s, it tugged at the corners of your mouth, threatening to spill over into a stupid, happy grin.

He didn’t have the language for what he felt, that was fine. You and Alastor had always found a way to communicate, even without words. He’d told you more with one gesture than you ever could have expected him to say aloud.

But it wasn't just unexpected, it was completely astonishing. You couldn’t let him sense that though, it might make him retreat into himself. So instead, you turned it back around on him, letting Alastor choose how much he wanted to give away.

“What do you think that could be?”

“I have an idea. But I dread to think.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you knew you were on the same page.

It would be difficult for him, far more than it had been for you, to pin down and explore and accept the feelings you had for each other. You hadn’t been able to figure out a better word for whatever it was that fizzled between you, though, like Alastor, you had a sneaking suspicion and it terrified you.

Nothing sounded right. Logically, you knew there were some words that ought to fit, but acknowledging them felt like wearing someone else’s shoes.

You couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for Alastor to come to terms with it all. So it surprised you when he slid his hand over yours.

It wasn’t the first time you’d touched, he was always holding out his arm for you, patting the top of your head, often even lifting your hand to his lips when he greeted you in the mornings or bade you goodnight. But this wasn’t a fleeting brush of his hand against yours, this was sustained, purposeful contact, and it meant something, to both of you.

Alastor’s gaze still couldn’t meet yours, so he stared at your hands, his close-mouthed smile back in place.

“I’ve grown quite fond of you,” he said quietly, and it was just his voice you could hear, no static, no sound effects, just Alastor.

You smiled.

“I’ve grown quite fond of you too, handsome. I get the same feeling.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, all the time.”

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring, at least.” Alastor finally met your eyes, his head tilted quizzically to one side. “Have you told anyone?”

“What, and admit I’m in love with the Radio Demon? No thanks, I’d never live it down.”

Feedback shot through the room, a grating, warped sound, like someone had held a microphone too close to a speaker. It was hard to tell if the sound emanated from the mixing desk or from Alastor himself, but his scarlet eyes were wide.

His hand tightened over yours, though it was more likely out of surprise than him trying to give you comfort. The tips and edges of his sharp claws dug into your skin, not enough to hurt, but it still made your jaw clench.

Alastor, to his credit, didn’t seem as put off by the admission than you might’ve expected. Maybe he wasn’t surprised by the actual sentiment, just that you’d finally said the words out loud.

You smiled.

With just a week or so left until an Extermination that would surely kill you all, there wasn’t much room left in your damned soul for shyness. It wasn’t an all-out ‘if this is my last chance to say it’ confession. You and Alastor had always appreciated candour, and with so little time left, why not say what you were both thinking?

“Have you spoken about it with anyone?”

Alastor shrugged.

“Well, yes, I’m doing it now.”

“No, I meant someone you can trust. Someone you can talk about your feelings with.”

Alastor watched you blankly.

A second penny dropped.

“Oh.”

You had to resist the urge to shiver under his heavy stare.

“You couldn’t talk to Rosie?”

“I considered it but, bless her heart, my old friend can be a sentimentalist. No, best just to get to the source of the problem.”

“Alastor…”

You huffed, pretending to be insulted, and Alastor’s smile once again looked a little more real. It met his eyes, open, unguarded and calm.

“So, what would you like to do about it?”

“Hmm,” Alastor raised the hand that had covered yours to tap one long finger against his chin. “Any chance you’d let me lock you away in a secret, impenetrable bunker?”

Your smile grew.

“Sorry, honey.”

Alastor tutted.

“I thought as much.”

“Do you have one of those?”

“Hm?”

“A secret, impenetrable bunker.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out, my dear. You’ll just have to be particularly careful. And perhaps this… Feeling will go away with time.”

You smiled, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Perhaps it will.”

“When I’m right, I’m right, my darling.”

”That’s not the expression and you know it.”

//

Master List

[waxflowerexe]

Gang member (?) Todo x Reader

Building off my older (gang member) Todo who spoils u

ᴳᵁʸˢ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᵁᶜᴷᴵᴺᴳ ᴰᴿᴬᶠᵀ ᴰᴵˢᴬᴾᴾᴱᴬᴿᴱᴰ ˢᴼ ʸᴼᵁ ᴴᴬⱽᴱ ᵀᴵ ᴰᴱᴬᴸ ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ᵀᴴᴵˢ😞

Instead of sorcerers they’re gang members who fly pretty much under the radar of any police. Posing as old money rich. (Will build on this)

Older bf Todo who you meet by chance at a coffee shop (bc cute) he’s just passing by chance to grab a drink, he sees you and he knows he has to have you. He tips you a stupid amount and leaves his number. You were just as enthralled, his scruff yet polished appearance yum. His ponytail littered with greys, yes! And just generally, size kink go brrrrrr

Older bf Todo who waits for your call but doesn’t answer straight away (he’s busy, in a meeting or whatever have you) but as soon as he’s free he calls back realising it’s you he apologises profusely and asks you out.

Older bf Todo who understands your caution. An older man twice your age asking you out isnt normal by any means. But when you call him to agree to a date he’s overjoyed.

Older bf Todo who asks you to dress up all fancy and pick you up a few blocks away per your request and takes. Opening every door and offering his arm wherever you walk. (Chivalry isn’t dead!!!!)

Older bf Todo who finds the most lavish restaurant for your first date and refuses to let you pay for anything regardless of your protests. He swipes his card with a cocky smile knowing he won the little quarrel.

Older bf Todo who takes you on a walk and urges you to talk about all your ‘silly dreams’ (as you put it) but instead of laughing is completely in awe of your passion and drive to achieve your goals. However when you ask him about what he does his answer is vague. ‘Barwork’ is all he offers, leaving you to question the means by which he acquired lavish life he seemingly lives.

After date one turns into two turns in to three and so forth, Todo is obsessed, whenever you’re both free he wants you next to him. He’s always touching you, whether it’s a hand snaked around your waist of simply holding your hand. He begs you to leave your apartment to live with him and after some convincing (buying your old apartment for you to soothe your anxiety about things not working out) you move in together and quit your job. Making him and you all the more clingy. Most importantly he offers to fund whatever aspirations you have.

Older bf Todo who is so good at managing your outbursts and attitude if almost feels mocking. He stands over you while you cuss him out and dosen’t bother arguing, he’s ’too grown’ for that. He lets you blow off your steam, secretly finding it cute how you pace around and try your best not to be calm. He always lets you say your piece no matter how irrational, he says his piece too. More often than not leaving you feeling a little silly because of how worked up you got, but he always reassures you in the end.

“My sweet don’t yell, come, tell me what’s wrong. Let me fix it

“Baby it’s okay to be mad….(insert rationality or gift)”

And if someone hurt you, strangely they’re never seen again.

Older bf Todo who takes you to work dinners every now and again. You always pick up a shady vibe. It’s not really a dinner, it feels like a series of poorly hidden transactions and unspoken alliances. Nobody really eats, even though Todo makes sure you’re well fed as he sips whatever drink he’s feeling. You bring it up but he dismisses you which is unusual, regardless, the look on his face tells you not to pry too much. It’s quite literally the only thing you argue about it

“Love I said fucking drop it, that’s just how it goes”

“I’m not doing this today love”

Older bf Todo who tries to apologise for his sharp tongue and quell your little suspicions by buying you whatever you wanted. Clothes, shoes, bags done. Hell, he’ll even get you all the books and games in the world. Just shut up about his work.

“Darling, that stupid shady bar pays for all your things” (as he petts your hair and shushes you to sleep)

But you ain’t forget 🫣

At the end of the day he just wanted to keep his girl safe

~Flo🌸

[dragonfly0808]

That girly urge to drop everything and write a 50k Harry Potter fanfic about Draco running away from home post 4th year and being scared and all alone and somehow running into Sirius who sees a young boy fending for himself after realizing his family are not good people and seeing himself and thus taking him in and letting him stay at Grimmauld Place despite protests because “He’s my nephew, he may have made mistakes but he’s also 15 and doesn’t deserve to be on his own fuck off”

That urge to write about him being oh so awkward with Ron and Hermione but still forming a begrudging, tentative friendship but it isn’t until he goes on an errand with Hermione to the muggle world and finding out about muggle hair dye and deciding to dye his hair to distance himself from the Malfoy name that Hermione decides to help him and whilst dying his hair Draco just spills his guts and apologizes to her for everything and admits that he was an ass and that he doesn’t want to be that anymore and that’s when their friendship begins for real

And immediately after that Ron also softens a bit and they start getting along just a tiny bit more.

He and Hermione somehow become besties though neither will admit it, like, they’ll be up at 2am arguing over their potions textbooks and Ron is just like ‘oh god there’s two of them now’ before getting them to take breaks and eat and teasing both of them.

Draco truly looking up to Sirius, who is just proud of him for being able to see his past mistakes and they’re just… UGH

That urge to write about Harry finally making it to Grimmauld Place and thinking he must’ve hit his head when he sees Draco standing behind Hermione and Ron, leaning against the door with slightly washed out light blue hair and a soft sweater

Harry being so confused when Hermione and Ron both vouch for Draco. Harry nearly passing out when Draco apologizes to him before anything else can happen and he looks so good in those hand me down sweaters WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

Them going back to Hogwarts, Draco, Hermione and Ron together as prefects.

Draco wondering where to sit during the first day since he’s not sure if his friends will want him anymore just for Ron to call out ‘Oi Malfoy, where you going?’ When he’s resigned to eat outside

Him and Harry bonding in Potions class, mainly laughing at Snape’s reaction to see Draco’s newly dyed pink hair that Umbridge nearly expells him for

And before you know it the Golden Trio has become the Golden Quartet and Harry spends most of his time trying to figure out why his heart does backflips every time he sees Draco smile or laugh at lunch

Then Dumbledore’s Army starts and Draco is Harry’s right hand man, helping him with what lessons to give and working as a double agent since he still lives in the Slytherin dorm he helps with avoiding the Inquisitorial Squad and even gets new members from Slytherin.

The urge to write about Draco and Harry spending so much time together figuring out what to teach next and how to make the lessons easier and Draco being so soft with Harry and letting his guard down and Harry opening up about his anger and Draco nearly murdering Umbrige when he finds out about the ‘I mustn’t tell lies’ thing

Ron talking about Hermione, wondering if maybe she has a crush on someone and Draco just staring and going ‘Weasley… you’re an idiot’ (with love)

Draco and Hermione being so competitive but also always studying together and Draco trying to get Hermione to make a move on Ron because ‘It’s so obvious it’s painful! I could tell from two tables away how you two drool for each other!’ Because Harry is so adamant about not getting involved in that mess. Just- Draco and Hermione being besties and platonic soulmates

The urge to write Draco and Harry staying in the Room of Requirements after the Army leaves and just hanging out and Harry being so weirdly happy because Draco never expects him to be the ‘Chosen One’ or a Dark Arts master or even calm and rational, he just expects him to be… Harry… even if that means dealing with his swing moods every once in a while

Harry writing to Sirius about feeling oh so confused and not knowing what to do and Sirius just being so amused and trading glances with Remus like, ‘…this boy is so dumb’

All four spending Christmas together and Draco is totally not crying when he gets his own Weasley sweater what are you talking about? And the trio crushes him into a hug to tease/comfort him. And well if Ron and Hermione wind up under the mistletoe and/or locked in a closet and the twins hand Draco a few coins well whose to say that was anything but a coincidence?

Harry not being able to concentrate as a seeker cause Malfoy dyed his hair a violet that makes his cheekbones pop out and his eyes look so pretty and FUUUUCCCCKKKK

Umbridge cornering Draco and trying to get info out of him and threatening him and trying to make him think that there’s no way Harry forgave him and that he’s just using him but Draco doesn’t care because being used by Harry would be better than being manipulated by his family Draco begrudingly admitting what happened when the Trio can tell he’s upset and all of them nearly killing Umbridge and affirming that they’re friends against all odds and that they wouldn’t trade him for anything, Draco dying his hair red in honor of that conversation

After a particularly bad Occlumency lesson with Snape, Harry sneaks out and finds Draco at the lake and they just talk and maybe just maybe Harry can’t help but kiss him because he just wants one good thing and- AAAAAHHHH

Anyways… yeah… the girly urge jeje

Might do it someday who knows, go back to my roots as an HP fanfic writer

[thelovelyruin]

10 𝖏𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖗𝖗 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖙.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : nanami x fem reader (celebrity au!)

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : being married to a celebrity comes with more than what you expected.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : angst with a happy ending, smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, oral sex, choking, praise, pet names (good girl and pretty), love, teasing, fingering, edging, overstimulation, mentions on stress and anxiety, arguing, stalking? (from paparazzi), hate sex, breakup sex, established relationship

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 3.1k

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from 10 james orr street by strawberry switchblade.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy it, if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

A note dropped through the door, tells us to go, but I know that you will tell them to go somewhere else.

You walk in front of Nanami now, your security guards trying to escort you two into your Hollywood Hills home. Camera flashes blind you as you attempt to walk to the front door, but one particular asshole decides to get in front of you both to take a photo. That was the last straw for Nanami.

“Give me that damn camera. You think it’s okay to take pictures of people on their property? I’ll get you arrested, motherfucker!”

Nanami took the camera and threw it on your stone driveway, destroying it. He realized at that moment that his actions would result in even more drama for the news to exploit. He could see it now, "Kento Nanami gone crazy, commits vandalism". You guys finally reach the door, the security guards open it for you as you rush in, Nanami slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

Because you know that I want to stay in this house forever, I don't want to ever leave.

It all started when you and Nanami decided to go public with your engagement. His fans were shocked, considering you guys kept your dating lowkey, but once you agreed to marry him, Nanami thought it would be appropriate to let the world know you were about to be Mrs. Nanami. Then, there was the wedding, which thankfully you had in Greece, meaning less paparazzi, but more of them waiting for the newlywed's arrival back home. All you could do was prepare for the change that came with being Nanami’s wife.

For a while, you were hiding out in Nanami’s second home in Bel Air, but why were you hiding? Because you wanted to go on a simple trip to the beach with Mei Mei last month. You went onto social media that night and endlessly scrolled through posts of people commenting on your bikini-clad body. She’s gained weight. She’s getting thinner. It’s like they couldn’t make up their fucking minds. Then there was the next week when you and Nanami walked the red carpet for his new movie premiere. You were absolutely stunning, at least that’s what your husband and friends told you, but you felt anything but. Being overstimulated by the camera flashes, you let go of Nanami’s arm before you could get overwhelmed, in which he didn’t force you because he was aware of your intentions. Oh, but you were so stupid for that. Constant break-up rumors hit the internet, and that was a hot topic. So much so, Wendy fucking Williams featured you on her show. Humiliated, Nanami decided you should stay home for a while to let things cool off, and of course, you couldn’t listen.

How could I ever live in another? This is where I want to be.

You walk towards the kitchen, grabbing a drink of water to decompress as Rob and the other escorts work on closing every curtain in the house. Nanami, obviously furious, walks to the living room, grabbing the TV remote. He turns it onto TMZ, where they’re talking about you out for lunch at Cecconi’s in West Hollywood earlier today.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I give you one fucking rule, don’t leave the damn house without me!”

“Kento, I-”

“Then, not only do you leave without me, you leave without an escort. Anything could’ve happened to you!”

The next clip shows you throwing your middle finger up to an undercover paparazzi taking pictures of you while you were eating, causing Nanami to begin pacing about the living room.

“And that, what the fuck is that? You’re practically begging to get bombarded with negative articles.”

You fix your face into a fit and walk up to Nanami in the living room, slamming your things down on the table, you two yelling at this point.

“Negative articles, that’s what you’re worried about? Excuse me, MR. BIG TIME MOVIE STAR, I didn’t mean to go outside to take a breather and spend time with myself. ALONE. ”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. I could care less about what they say about me, I’m trying to protect you! Every fucking thing I’ve done has been to protect you!”

“I’m tired of this shit, what did you want me to do? Smile for the fucking picture while I chow down on my fucking ravioli?”

Nanami sighs and wipes his hand down his face, walking up to you and grabbing your hands in his.

“You know what? I’m tired of this shit too. Trust me when I say I love you, but I can’t have you going through this constantly. We should get a divorce.”

At that moment, you felt your entire world crashing. Your house began falling apart brick by brick, the curtains were burning, and the floor was crumbling. You throw his hands out of yours, pacing back and forth with your hands in your hair. Long story short, you were losing your shit.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. It’s the only way-”

You know that there won't be a high wall I can’t climb and find the things that I find.

“Kento, you’re not serious. You’re not fucking serious right now. Is it because I didn’t listen to you? I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve stayed put and waited for you or Rob to take me out.”

“It’s not that simple. You’ve been harassed for weeks on end, just for fucking breathing at this point. I can’t keep seeing you hurt.”

“I can go back to Bel Air and hide out there again. I’ll stay there as long as you need me to!”

“So they can follow you there? And then what, hm? We have to move you all over again? No, we get a divorce and then my fans and the media will leave you alone.”

“But, baby, I, just please…”

“I’M NOT ARGUING WITH YOU ANYMORE. Start packing your things and Rob and the others will help you move them out. I’ll get you an apartment in Soho, but you’ll have to wear a disguise for a while. I won’t be seeing you anymore, it’s for your own good. ”

 I'll have to leave them where they are, I don't want to go far.

And with that, you begin to cry. Grabbing your purse off the table, you wipe away your tears and run towards the grand staircase, throwing your MACH & MACH heels over the balcony. Nanami hears the sound of your heels hitting the floor, rushing to the lower landing to ensure your well-being, only to be met with your clothes being thrown over the balcony at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Throwing all of the shit you bought for me out! Keep all of this shit, I don’t want it anymore.”

“Oh, don’t be such a goddamn cunt about this. You know I fucking love you.”

You stand at the top of the balcony, looking him in his eyes as you throw your rolex over the edge, diamonds scattering all over the floor below.

“Fuck you.”

A tear-stained pillow doesn't seem to help me, I can't make you change your mind.

You begin to grab your cosmetics out of the master bathroom, frustratedly dropping toothpaste and lotion bottles amidst your tirade. You run back into your separate closet, scouring the shelves for a bag big enough to hold your clothes, but alas, you realize your efforts were in vain when all you find are your Birkins. Pacing about the room, looking for the clothes you had before you met Nanami. Then you remember, you have your Goyard duffle in his closet, which as much as you hated it, you were gonna have to use. Walking across the hall, you see Nanami coming up midway on the staircase. You chuckle a bit, running to the closet to grab the duffle before he can stop you. Unfortunately for you, when you turn around to exit the room, Nanami stands in the doorway.

I look through my window and I see all I want to, how can I leave it all behind me now?

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You push by him, pissing him off even further. You’re walking back to your closet now, Nanami closely behind.

“What do you mean, Kento? I’m packing my things.”

“No, you’re going on a rampage!”

As you walk into the master bedroom again, you get a glimpse of the backyard through the window, memories of you and Nanami dancing on the patio together and friends coming over for discrete cookouts. And now here you are, leaving it all because he was picking his fans over his wife.

I've done all I can do, I want to stay here.

“A rampage? Bitch, I can show you a rampage.”

With that, you walk back into your closet, throwing clothes off hangers as he stands in the doorway, scorching with anger. Every piece of clothing you throw, Nanami picks up and places in a pile on the bed, presumably to organize later. In revolt, you walk out into the bedroom, throwing them back on the floor again.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“The fuck am I doing? You mean, the fuck are YOU doing?”

This could be my home forever, but you say I can't come back ever.

You walk up to Nanami, glaring up at him, considering he was much taller than you (not to mention his bigger frame).

“You tell me you want a divorce, how do you expect me to react? Be a good little wife and kiss your ass, ‘Oh, Kento, I understand.’ Then you must be fucking DELUSIONAL!”

Picking up the clothes from the bed, you begin throwing them at him.

“You ungrateful motherfucker… I BUILT THIS HOUSE, ME! I picked the goddamn floorplan and the furniture and everything? Who do you think manages things around here when…you’re off shooting another movie…or screenwriting another TV show? Me, you asshole! You get to come home and relax after working, and what do I get?... Harassed by your…fucking…fans…because you’re too scared…to tell them to FUCK OFF!”

You don't know just how much I wish I could stay in this house forever… 

In a swift motion, Nanami comes over to where you’re standing on the other side of the room, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you roughly. At first, you try to push him off, but eventually, you give in. You know you can’t resist him, not when he’s kissing you like he’s gonna eat you alive. He quickly brings his hands up to lift your legs off the floor, wrapping them around his waist as he drops you on the bed, much too frustrated to be gentle with you. And that’s where the love bites come in, licking and sucking at your neck like some kind of animal and it just feels so good. Especially when he brings his hand up to your tits, pulling your shirt down to release your breasts, expeditiously putting one in his mouth, rubbing your nipple between his tongue and teeth. You push him back, leaving him in an upright position where he has the perfect view of you. Frantically, you begin making work of his button-up, and when you get caught on the top button, he rips his damn shirt off. But who cares right? What’s another $300 shirt? He makes it quick when he pulls your shirt off of you, then your shorts, and finally, flips you onto your stomach so he can unstrap your bra. His lips are back on you now, licking and sucking his way down your back, breathing down your spine as you let out soft moans into the pillow. He stops at your panties, bringing the fabric of your thong between his teeth as he brings his fingers up to hook under the strap. He rips them off, which was the least of your concerns, especially when your husband is lifting your lower body up so that you’re on your knees.

…I don't want to ever leave.

Nanami pulls you closer to him, hooking his arms under your legs to bring you close to his face. And then, well, he goes to town. His tongue starts to pump in and out of your pussy, hearing the mewls and squeals you’re trying to hide in the pillow. He pulls his tongue away, watching you squirm and whimper for it to come back.

“Stop moaning in to the pillow, I wanna hear you, baby.”

“Oh, I thought I wasn’t your ‘baby’ anymore?”

He’s angry, bringing his face down to eat you again, and he’s fucking amazing at it, making you feel like a virgin with how fast your orgasm was coming. He’s got your clit now, sucking at the bud like there’s no tomorrow. And you’re a mess, moaning his name into the air and gripping your fingers into the bedding. Nanami bring his hands up over your legs to massage your ass, gripping and slapping the skin and he swears he’s fallen in love with you all over again. 

You’re nearly at the end now, that fire burning inside you and Nanami’s tongue being the damn gasoline. Sure, you were still mad at him, but currently, all you could think about was the way he was fucking his tongue into you, lapping your juices up happily, dedicated to making you cum on his face. And that’s exactly what you did. As your body began to jerk, he brought your pussy closer to his face, so close that it was suffocating him, but who cares if he couldn’t breathe? His pretty little wife was cumming so lovely on his lips, to which he drank up, fully indulging your essence. As you were coming down, your body turned to mush and you sank into the bed, but that didn’t stop Nanami from continuing.

“Ken, I can’t…”

“I know you can, pretty girl. Give me one more.”

How could I ever live in another?

Overstimulated and spent, you come down from your second orgasm, but you knew Nanami wasn’t done with you. He quickly pulled you to the end of the bed, pumping his fingers inside you to prepare you for his dick, which he was pulling out of his pants. Your mind was still fuzzy, because you hadn’t even heard his belt fall to the floor, or his pants, or his boxers, or his watch, or his chain. Well, you woke up pretty damn fast when you felt him slowly sink into you. You swear you died in that moment, drowning in lust as Nanami parted your pussy like the red sea. But now, he was teasing you, moving his hips at a terribly slow pace, and to be frank, it was pissing you off.

“Kento…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Please, just fuck me already!”

“If you insist, dear.”

You’re beginning to wish you hadn’t said that. Nanami started fucking you at a dangerous pace, bouncing you back onto his dick just to slam his hips back into you again. His hands were on your hips now, fucking you deeper and harder, making you moan gibberish into the air. He brings a hand up to slap your ass, reveling in the sound of it smacking against his stomach. He laughs a bit as you moan with every slap.

“Look at you, such a brat earlier, and now you’re falling apart on my dick.”

“Fuck you.”

“Trust me I am.”

Immediately, Nanami halts, pulling up your upper half, his hand gripping your shoulder as he begins fucking the shit out of you. If you thought you were going mad before, it was definitely happening now. All you can say is his name as he drills his dick into you, hand around your throat as he makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can tell he’s close from the way he’s panting and moving at a more rhythmic pace. He lets your shoulder go slowly, bringing your body back down to meet the sheets. One hand on your side and the other gripping the bed, he lowers down to your face, sucking on your neck as he fucks into you deep and slow. His face is nuzzling in your neck and hair, taking in your scent as he hears you moan and groan at the pace of his hips. You’re so close and Nanami knows too, that’s why he’s fucking that spot in you that has you throwing your head back and losing yourself on his dick.

“C’mon baby, give it to me. I wanna feel you cum for me.”

That was it for you, body spasming from your third orgasm. You ride it out as you feel Nanami fill you up, groaning and whimpering your name into your ear, sucking the skin there and panting.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. My pretty little wife.”

This is where I want to be.

Nanami falls to your side, groaning sadly as he pulls his dick out of you. Both of you stare at the ceiling now, panting like you ran a marathon. He looks over at you and then gets up to go to the bathroom, you hear him organizing something as you remember you pretty much moved like a tornado in the bathroom trying to pack your things. Shortly, he come out with a washcloth in hand, cleaning you up while you squirm from overstimulation. He cleans himself and throws it into the hamper in the bathroom, walking back to you on the bed and lays down. He pulls his arm around you and you can’t bring yourself to take it off of you. 

“I’m gonna get you more security and tint the windows on the Ghost, the Aventador too. We should probably get you therapy too for all the stress and anxiety this has given you. I’ll have Alexandra fix your things back in the closet and I’ll take you to replace the damaged items. I’m gonna talk to my manager and see if he can organize paying some of the snappers to fuck off, I’ll be going on to my socials to tell my fans to relax. Can’t keep fucking with my girl.”

As he kisses your forehead, you feel yourself exhausted, lying on Nanami’s chest as you fall asleep. He nuzzles his face in your hair, holding your hand and rubbing his finger against the 4-carat diamond ring that adorned it. There’s no way he could leave his pretty little wife.

You know that I don't want to go.

♱ the song used in this story is 10 james orr street by strawberry switchblade. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

[daytaker]

Dear Little Sheep

Lucifer isn't good at goodbyes.

Ship: Lucifer x Reader (Romantic or Platonic) Word Count: 767 Cross-Posted on AO3

[ Masterlist of Works ]

Little Sheep:

I appreciate how you've taken care of my brothers. They need an extra set of eyes on them.

I also appreciate that, at times, you seem to think you should take care of me as well. I would like to assure you that I’m quite capable of managing myself. 

If anything, I should do more to care for you. You’re only a human, after all, and the Devildom can be a dangerous place. I’ve promised before that I don’t intend to allow any harm to come to you, and I stand by that. But you make that promise exceedingly difficult to keep, don’t you?

Why can’t you ever leave well enough alone? I’ve never met anyone–angel, demon, or human–as insufferably nosy as you. Solomon might give you a run for your money, I suppose. But at least Solomon doesn’t pry into the private lives of myself and my family. You throw yourself into dangerous situations at the drop of a hat. You provoke Hell’s most dangerous demons–myself included–on a semi-regular basis. What exactly is wrong with you?

Sometimes I wonder if your entire purpose here is to test me. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to have someone perpetually keeping you on your toes? For your sake, I hope you don’t.

My brothers are inordinately fond of you. You might even say they’re enamored. I’m not sure why they must behave so childishly about it, though. Bickering amongst themselves; arguing over whose turn it is to drag you away somewhere and subject you to their attentions. It’s irritating. I never know where to find you.

I don’t entirely understand why you insist on humoring them. At the end of the day, they are all deeply flawed individuals who treat you as much as a parent as a companion. I know, because I have a similar sort of relationship with them. Though they don’t complain when you knock unexpectedly at their doors the way they do when it’s me. I suppose it’s because I have the potential to be dangerous, and you… Well, not to be condescending, but you’re harmless, little sheep.

I have an idea. Instead of spending so much time being fawned over by my idiotic brothers, why don’t you do more to dedicate yourself to your studies for the remaining week you're here? I am entirely willing to assist you in the capacity of tutor. I’m not impartial to your company myself. I believe we could both enjoy ourselves and enrich your time here.

More than anything, little sheep, I hope you know that you can rely on me. We have had our differences over our time together, but I am as reliable and loyal a companion as you will find in any of the three worlds. I would advise you not to take this offer lightly either, because it is not one I often make.

Finally, I would request that you keep in contact with me after your stay in the Devildom has ended. Perhaps, with permission from Diavolo, we could arrange for you to come back occasionally. You will always be welcome at the House of Lamentation.

…That was how I planned to end this communication. But I’m finding it unusually difficult to sign off with a goodbye.

I was never fond of goodbyes. That might come as a surprise to you, considering how many relationships I had to sever at the onset of the Great Celestial War, but truthfully… I don’t understand why I’m telling you this. But I didn’t say goodbye to anyone before the war. I simply rebelled with my brothers. You know the rest. The only true, permanent goodbye I ever extended was to Lilith.

Hmm. This is your charm, isn’t it? It’s why my brothers adore you. You’re quite easy to talk to, even on subjects I’d rather not examine.

Goodbyes… Much like apologies, they require a great deal of vulnerability. When you bid someone goodbye–a genuine goodbye–you are admitting that you will miss their presence. You are exposing a weakness. It’s by exposing one’s weakness that one’s enemies learn how best to harm them. As the eldest brother, it has always been my duty to protect the others from harm. If I allowed anyone with ill intentions to harm them, especially if it’s due to a lapse of judgment on my part… 

It doesn’t matter, ‘if’. It will never happen.

Nevertheless, I trust you. So I will end this communication with a traditional goodbye. I look forward to our next meeting, little sheep.

Eternally yours,

Lucifer

[darknesseddiem]

Small(Big) Problems

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: "Can you do one for some of the small boob giries please? Where reader is insecure of their small chest but Eddie reassures them xx."

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Self-deprecation, derogatory jokes, low self-esteem, Eddie being a sweetheart and comforting Reader.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.830k.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @birdysaturne @wdsara48 @ali-r3n

You like my work? Support me with a small 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢.

To all the girls who have ever felt insufficient or worthless, know that you are amazing and that you deserve the world, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

The Hawkins High cafeteria resounded with the clinking of cutlery and trays carrying the students' lunches, the tables entirely occupied by friends chatting animatedly about the frivolities of their unspecial lives.

Each person's place was designated according to a social “hierarchy”, just like in the animal kingdom where the lion was the king of the jungle.

The lions would be the basketball team, the ‘Tigers’. Ironic, isn't it? Logically, the cheerleaders would be the lionesses, responsible for maintaining balance among the pack, or not.

And so followed the hierarchy imposed at Hawkins High: Basketball team and cheerleaders, popular people, party lovers, intellectuals, readers, scientists, musicians, theater kids, alternative people, the shy and reclusive, the dregs of society and… The weird nerds, better known as 'the Hellfire Club'.

At the last table, far from everyone else, was your people, Eddie Munson's pupils who were arguing vehemently about something that you hadn't been able to decipher yet.

“Dude, you don't understand!” Gareth exclaimed frantically, running his hand over his face, “Please, someone kill me…” Jeff replied in a whisper with his head thrown back.

You looked between the two in confusion as you went to your reserved seat- on Eddie's left side, and carefully placed your tray with the food. "What is happening?" Curiosity got the best of you and you whispered, leaning into the boy next to you. “I have no idea, they’ve been at it for almost half an hour.” The curly-haired boy whispered back.

“How come you can’t decide which one is prettier between the two?” Jeff rolled his eyes at his friend, “I can’t because they’re both practically the same!” He countered loudly.

Gareth made a sound as if he had heard the greatest atrocity a human being could utter. “Man…” He said with his jaw dropped, “You are truly blind, without a doubt.” The blonde shook his head. “Oh yeah? Tell me something that’s different about the two.” Everyone at the table was enjoying the two's discussion.

A mischievous smile began to appear on Emerson's face. “That's easy,” He crossed his arms over his chest, “Pamela Anderson's titties are much bigger than Heather Locklear's.” And with that, a commotion was generated at the table.

“Eww!”

“Jesus, we have a lady sitting here Gareth!” Dustin pointed and everyone at the table stared at you.

"And…?" He shrugged. “How do you think she’ll feel hearing you talk about… Um, another woman’s parts like you’re a pervert?” The smaller boy scolded.

"Hey!" The blonde haired boy fumed, "It's not my fault she's flat as a door and feels insecure around other girls' breasts." He slapped his hand over his mouth when he realized what he had just said.

Your face fell in shock and embarrassment, hot tears threatening to form as everyone at the table looked equally shocked at Gareth.

Feeling humiliated enough, you got up from your chair and headed towards the cafe's exit without looking back.

“Man, you really are an asshole.” Grant said disappointed in his friend.

Eddie, who was watching the discussion unfold, now looked at Gareth with a dark look, getting up from his place at the head of the table, Emerson barely had time to react when he was hit with a tray of food and something wet. "What the-"

“Be thankful it’s just food and not a chair,” The older boy said seriously and followed you.

Eddie found you in the drama room where they were playing D&D, “Princess?” The chair next to you was occupied by him. “Hey, I hope you’re not like this because of that scumbag.” He caressed your damp cheek.

“He’s not wrong, Eds… I-” You were silenced by a finger on your lips.

“Ah, ah, I won’t even listen.” His dark curls shook as he shook his head. “Gareth is an idiot who hasn’t left puberty yet.” You both laughed, “But you… You are more than a body, you know that right?” You denied, overwhelmed by the emotions that his sentence brought you.

“You know now, you are an incredible girl with so many qualities… It’s almost ridiculous that you reduce yourself to a body, when you have so much to offer.” His brown eyes looked at you with intensity and sincerity, “I think you’re beautiful, and I’m not just talking about physical beauty.” The smile on your face was huge.

“What I want to say, Princess, is that you are much more than this standard imposed by the patriarchy, you are worth more than that…” He looked down with flushed cheeks.

You jumped into his arms and hugged him like there was no tomorrow, “Thank you, Eds.” You thanked him with a trembling voice and felt him tighten his arms around your waist, returning the hug.

People can be mean, and sometimes you have to remember: You are more than a body.

[mchlgayser]

can you write one about bellingham where they’re married and they are arguing all the time so they’re thinking about divorcing but one day he saw her crying in their bedroom and he conforts her and realises how much he loves her

𓂃⭑ᜊ: REALIZATION ft jude bellingham

𓂃⭑ᜊ an: HELLO! Ok this is a GREAT idea! Icl I love it, I might do this all out I swear.

𓂃⭑ᜊ content warning: arguments, divorce, and breakdown

𓂃⭑ᜊ: @iwritesjud3's masterlist

'I can't fucking do this anymore!' He burst, and you sat there numb and in distress, you sit on the couch hands over your head as you sigh heavily 'Should we just... Separate, Jude?' You didn't meant it, you really don't it just kind of slipped out.

But maybe, maybe you meant it.

'..Yeah. I think that's for the best, it's just not working out like this.' He shakes his head, sitting down next to you 'Right.' You declared standing up and stare down at him 'I'm taking the guest room, you can sleep at the room.' Leaving him, you tread upstairs as fast as you can and lock the door.

When? When did it get to this? Did it just happen? You thought to yourself, eyes burning with hot tears cascading down your cheeks. Tired is what you are feeling.

'Can you stop being jealous all the time?!'

'Oh well, I'm sorry for being so jealous over a girl wrapping an arm around you!'

'We talked about this, come on! Do I have to bring it up all the fucking time?!'

'I am not your fucking maid, Y/n. Take out the trash yourself.'

'How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my things! You are so stubborn!'

'Where are you? I called you the millionth of times, I'm worried!'

'Mind your business'

'Oh my God! You are a drunk mess!'

'Fucking let go, Jude!~'

'It's four, why did you even bothered coming home?'

'Because I paid for it, go and stop bothering me Y/n!'

When you think thoroughly about it now, it hurts so bad your heart aching and hammers so loud. You cry the whole night with your body still attached on the door.

The next day you woke up, and you didn't see any signs of Jude 'He's probably at practice.' You murmured going around the yard to take a breather. This yard is one of your favorite parts of the house. It was green with grass, yellow with daisies, and red with roses. The koi fish pond and a small bridge over the pond. The swing. Every part of this yard are your favorite. Sad to think you'll have to leave the house so soon.

Well technically this house is both yours and Jude's after you got married but to think that you have to live with thousands of bad memories in this house, you feel hopeless just thinking about it. If you wanted to divorce and leave, then you need to start fresh.

You stay hours in the yard doing nothing but admiring it. One memory after another came gushing back to you

'Stop Jude, it tickles'

Spending hours in the yard, you both did nothing but talks with each other, joking around, getting to know each other even better.

'You're cheating, you are not supposed to look!'

Hiding the canvas on his chest, you both spent time painting what reminds you both of each other, filming. He drew a beautiful home, exclaiming that you always remind him of the 'home is a person' thing. Meanwhile, you drew a flutter of butterflies.

The reason is that every small thing about him caused your stomach to rabble butterflies.

'Oh my God! The sausages burnt!'

It was a funny memory indeed, you both got so lost in your world, admiring each other's details you forgot the sausages you grilled on the pan.

'I love...'

Sunset picnic you both religiously do every month, pinning what you both like most from the snacks, fruits and drinks.

Now that you think about it, when is the last time you both did it, two months ago? Perhaps four months ago. It just sort of disappeared into thin air.

Your eyes welled up with tears again, these memories constantly bring you down making it harder for you to leave. Can you do it? Abandoning everything about him?

You walk upstairs to your shared bedroom sit on the bed and look around, your stuff, facials, and makeup are still neatly placed on the table. The mattress created a faint smell of Jude's fresh minty cologne. The one you bought him for your first wedding anniversary. The curtains slightly open allowing the sun to peep in inside the dimmed light room.

Eyes boring around some more, your eyes fidgeted on the nightstand table's drawer, it was open subtle and you got up to open it to see what was inside. The contain managed to slip a small gasp out of your mouth, tears welling up again. It was a photo album of you and Jude since you were both friends.

You take out the album and open it to the first page. It was a photo of you and him taking selfies with ice cream and beside the picture, you wrote 'We got each other's fav ice cream!'

You skipped a few pages, and the next page you open was you and him cutting a cake on your wedding day, you are smiling down, and Jude gazing at you with wide stupid grin on his mouth.

Another picture on the bottom is you feeding him a small piece of cake, and throwing your head back, laughing while he boop icing on your nose.

Smiling at how lovey-dovey you two were before, without noticing a single stray of tear fall down your cheekbone. Skipping pages through pages, reminiscing the old good memories.

You held the album close to your chest, crying and wailing alone. Your tears freely escaped your sockets, you don't want to leave, never would you but you know, this is going nowhere. The marriage is something both you and Jude can't worked out together. Maybe this is the best. For him and his career.

Jude on the other hand just gotten home from training, he dropped his duffle bag and slumped on the living room couch, and close his eyes for a short sleep.

The gushing wind interrupted, he eyed up to the yard realizing that the balcony door is opened, the curtains pushed up and down because of the wind, he groan getting up to close the door.

He gazes the yard for a moment, now thinking of you. He tread ways upstairs to your shared bedroom. The door is open lightly and he peek in to see you on the bed, crying.

Your eyes are red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears. He slowly opens the door peeking his head in 'Y/n?' You jolted at the familiar voice, you hid the album away but it was too late.

Jude came and confronts you, he sat down beside you as the mattress dip 'What?' You stuttered out, eyes avoiding his gaze 'I just... Wanted to check up on you.'

You sighed 'We are separating soon Jude, no need to check up on me anymore, I'm fine.' He felt bad, really bad.

He thought to himself, how did this happen? Do you two just end up disliking each other and get spiteful every chance you get?

'I don't want to lose you, Y/n.' You gasp, eyes watering with salty tears 'No Jude, please don't say that. We both know that this is not working out anymore.' Out of instinct, he held your hand 'No! What we both said last night is purely angry talks, I said things I didn't mean and that's the same way for you! Please, I still love you, don't you love me?' You were hesitant 'I... Do but..'

'Then, that's enough for now, we'll try our best to go through this obstacle, we'll fight for each other just like we used to, alright?' You hum and nods at him

He takes you in his arms 'Thank God! I don't ever wanted to lose you.'

[billythenightguard]

Run Away: Detention (2011) & FNAF Movie Crossover - Chapter Five

Masterlist

Mentions: childhood loves

Word Count: 1140

Warnings: None

Older!Clapton/Mike x GN!Reader

Mike was determined to start dropping hints to you, he had no idea if you had begun to question who he was or if you were truly still in the dark. He dug out his old stereo cassette deck, stuffing it into the trunk. He had decorated it back in his time at Grizzly Lake, so he’d have to wait until you left Freddy’s to retape the mixtape. He also grabbed his six year old laptop, knowing he could hook it up to the deck and use YouTube to find the songs he wanted, especially the older ones that had just come out in 2011.

Mike wanted to treat you to something for once, you always bought him and Abby breakfast, always brought him lunch and dinner and made sure he didn’t have to do grocery shopping in the two months he’s reconnected with you. Since he’s been able to save some money due to your kindness, he knew he wanted to spend it on you. What better way than to not only bring in another hint, but to also spoil you how he once did.

He couldn’t contain his grin as he drove up to the 7-11, getting out almost too quickly to properly shut his car off. Immediately going to grab all of your old favorite snacks, putting them into a nice basket he found in his attic, and finally, the only reason you two would ever take his dad’s old, rusted Beamer. The slurpees. He almost felt 19 again, quietly arguing with you about making sure you waited until sixteen for some weed, insisting that cherry was the best flavor of slurpee ever, the way you’d easily stand on your tiptoes to match his 5’5, although now it seemed you didn’t have to do that anymore, you were definitely taller than you were at 14, maybe it was a growth spurt, maybe it was the shoes you wore. It didn’t matter though, Mike loved every part of you. He missed the best friend he had for 14 years, remembering the day your parents brought you home.

“Mom, dad!” Five year old Clapton exclaimed from the front yard, his parents sitting on the porch to watch him. “They brought home a baby!” And before they could even stop him, Clapton was running over to the house next door, politely asking if he could see the baby. But he was told not yet, and he slumped down and walked back to his house. Everyday for three weeks, Clapton would run over and ask to see the new baby. Your mom giggled and gushed over his relentlessness, and finally allowed him to come in.

Clapton was quiet and careful in his steps, unlike a typical five year old would be, he carefully climbed up the chair sitting by the bassinet and peered in, gasping to himself.

“They’re so cute!” He whispered out, his eyes widening when he realized he was a bit louder than he meant to be, and that stirred you awake, he braced for you to begin crying and for him to get scolded. But you just looked up at him, and he smiled and waved to you, talking to you like you’d understand him. “Hi, my name is Clapton Davis, I’m five years old, and I live in the yellow house next to you. We’re gonna be best friends.” He laughed, and he kept that promise, every day he’d come over after school to visit you, his newest neighbor. He was there for every milestone a baby could meet, and he was damn proud of himself too. As you would grow older, probably when you were five and Clapton was nine, almost ten, you had declared something that Clapton kept a secret for years within himself.

“Clapton! I'm gonna marry you one day!” You said, holding his hand as he was walking you to the bus stop. He laughed and blushed, but quickly agreed.

“Okay! We’re gonna get old like moms and dads, and we’re gonna kiss all the time!” He grinned a Cheshire grin, and laughed when you squealed and spun around, still holding his hand. He had always felt some sort of way towards you, some calling, something more than just best friends for life, and here you were, blatantly admitting both of your feelings to the world. Both of your parents found it to be adorable.

“$14.67 sir.” The cashier said, snapping Mike out of his mind as he smiled a half grin, swiping his card to pay before heading out to the pizzeria.

“Mike!” You called out giddily when you heard him enter the security room, his heart swelling to know you got excited to see him. “It’s been so boring… I’m tempted to give you my old iPod so we can play iMessage games.” You laughed, Mike shook his head at that.

“I’m old, I don’t know what any of that means.” He teased, blushing a little as he handed you the basket and slurpee.

“You’re the same age as my best friend- oh my god you didn’t-” you looked at the basket and slurpee, a wide smile taking over and tears of happiness and remembrance welling up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!!” You squealed, setting your snacks and drinks down carefully before leaping up and hugging him, and now it was Mike’s turn to tear up, he hugged you back tightly, relishing in the moment of your touch. He missed you more than he thought he supposed.

“You are possibly the sweetest man out there, Michael Schmidt.” You laughed, pulling back to look at him.

“Oh, I don’t know, sounds like your childhood friend might be more than me.” He shrugged, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen from your eye.

“Both of you are, I didn’t think it was possible for there to be two men like you, but there is.” You whispered, leaning into his touch slightly, your heart rate picking up, was this betraying Clapton?

Mike had to usher you out when he noticed the time, he didn’t want Abby to become petty with you like she did to him when he was late for pickup. Once he was sure you wouldn’t turn around, he ran out to his car and grabbed his cassette deck and his laptop, making a set up on the desk and taking out the old mixtape, writing down the songs he would keep.

He decided he would add three new songs, It’s Not Over - Daughtry, Glad You Came - The Wanted, and finally Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephants. He smiled happily, having recreated the mixtape on YouTube, letting the deck tape over the old mixtape, throwing the new songs into a random order, he wondered just what you’d think. He just hoped he wouldn’t make you mad.

|| So sorry for the delayed post today, I am exhausted with only 3 hours of sleep and not my usual 4.5 hours. ||

Tag List: @na-is-salty @cancelledkaley @mad-die45 @mschmidt @dessxoxsworld @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction

[rainisawriter]

Protector – Ito (PSF #30)

Ficography

Genre: Fluff, angst, slice of life

Prompt: Self-Worth/Self Love (@flufftober)

Word Count: 4,103

Pairing: F Reader x Ito / F Reader, Stepbrother Magoroku

World: High&Low

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Magoroku blinked dumbly at his mother who sat across from him at the small kitchen table. It took him a moment to register the information she had just given him and, when it did, all he could manage to utter was a, “Huh?“

She gave him a scolding look, folding her arms over her chest. “Will you please pay attention? This is important.”

“I am listening,” he scowled, “But this is a joke, right?”

“No, I’m being serious. They should be home soon and you better behave, Magoroku. She’s not only being ripped from her life, but she’s being plopped into a new country. She needs our support.”

His brow furrowed as he slid down in his seat, watching his mom get up to make tea. How the hell was he supposed to feel about this? He had only just begun to accept Mark as his stepdad and now he has to accept that he has a step-sister? Not only that, but said sister is now going to live with them.

This was his home, his safe space, and it was now being invaded by not one, but two people. He knew his mom was counting on him to make her feel welcome and help her, but he had no desire to do so. He’s not a babysitter.

‘She probably can’t even speak Japanese,’ he scoffed, blowing a large bubble with his gum. It seemed to pop angrily, mirroring how he felt.

Meanwhile, you were feeling extremely nervous as your dad drove toward the apartment complex where you’d be living from now on. You had always dreamed of living in Japan, but now that it was happening… you didn’t feel confident that you could handle such a drastic change.

Your Japanese wasn’t great, just enough to get you through a Jdrama without subtitles, and that worried you. Then there was your new family. You had spoken to your step-mom on the phone before and she seemed really nice, but what if that was just an act to appease your dad? Then there’s the issue of your new brother. 

You knew nothing about him aside from his name and your brain was cooking up all kinds of scenarios, none of them good.

Mark glanced at you, patting your knee. “Relax, kiddo. They’re going to love you.”

“And I’d they don’t?” you questioned softly with a frown. “What if they hate me? I don’t want to be responsible for you getting divorced… again.”

“Hey,” he frowned, glancing at you again. “Your mom and I didn’t get divorced because of you.”

“Sure…” You didn’t want to argue with him, already stressed out, but you refused to believe you weren’t the cause. Your mom had told you many times that you were the reason. Apparently, you were supposed to be a ‘fixer’ baby, the final attempt to fix their marriage. According to her, though, you only made things worse.

You let your forehead fall against the cool glass, a sigh passing your lips. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream… or both.

As the car pulled up to the building, you noticed the two standing outside. Maka smiled warmly when she saw the car, not hesitating to head over so she could greet her husband. Magoroku didn’t move, hands stuffed into his pockets as he glared at a tree off in the distance. To you, he looked terrifying and mean.

Rather than approaching the driver’s side, Maka came to you. You shivered when she opened the door, the cold autumn air hitting you despite the hoodie you wore.

“Welcome home,” she told you softly, stepping back so you could slide out of the car. As soon as you were out, she pulled you into a warm hug which you hesitantly returned. “How was your flight?”

You hesitated, searching for the proper words. “It was… okay.”

“I’m sure you’re tired.” She rubbed your upper arm before turning to her son, her voice rougher. “Magoroku, take her inside and show her to her room.”

The male scowled, reluctantly doing as he was told. He motioned for you to follow without waiting. You quickly grabbed your book bag from inside the car before rushing after him, gripping the strap tightly. He said nothing as you followed him inside and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak first. You honestly felt like an invader, an unwelcome guest who was forcing their way into someone else’s home.

“Your room,” he pointed at a closed door, not sparing you a glance before disappearing into the room diagonally across from your own. You stood there for a moment before hesitantly entering the room. It was a pretty basic bedroom, having just a bed, a desk and a dresser with walls painted a faded white.

You sat on the side of the bed with a sigh, falling back to stare up at the ceiling. A new chapter of your life had just begun and you were honestly terrified. You had no idea what was in store for you. Part of you was glad to be away from your mother because living with her brought only stress and constant arguments.

You were worried that the same would happen with your new family because you were convinced that you were the problem and not your mother. You released a shaky breath, closing your eyes. No matter what happens, you decided to do your best not to be a burden on them.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

Weeks turned into months but not much changed. You remained reserved, holed up in your room so you didn’t get in anyone’s way. You avoided your new brother like the plague, something Maka had taken notice of since she was home more often than her husband. She didn’t like it and encouraged her son to interact with you more, advice that he promptly ignored.

She knew you were struggling, not just because of your new environment but also because of the damage your mom had inflicted on you over the years. It was the main reason Mark had asked Maka if you could move in with them. He was worried about the way you were being treated.

When Maka first heard about the things your mom said to you, she was shocked. Granted, she understood being frustrated with her child and saying things she regretted later during arguments, but the things your mom said to you was way too far.

Though she had hit you only a couple of times, her abuse was primarily mental, wearing you down with insults. She would order you to do something only to complain that you did it wrong and she would constantly call you lazy and make you feel worthless. You did your best but it was never enough.

Maka wanted to embrace you, to lift you up and let you know that you are good enough, that you’re not worthless, but she had no idea how to do so. She had been hoping that her son would grow to love you and would be able to help, but he had no interest in you or creating a bond with you.

Maka glanced up when she heard your door open, listening to your feet on the wooden floor. The kitchen where she sat was directly in front of the front door so, when you stopped in the doorway to slip your shoes on, she stood up and called out your name.

Your head snapped up, eyes wide as if you had just been caught doing something wrong. “Maka-san,” you quickly bowed, swallowing nervously. “I thought you were at work…”

“I got off early today,” she smiled, keeping her tone soft. “Where are you off to? Do you need me to take you somewhere?”

“I was -” you stopped yourself short before saying, “I was just going for a walk.”

It was only partly true. Though you did want to get some air, you were mainly going out to try and find a job. You felt guilty living like a freeloader though Maka had insisted on this being unnecessary and you knew if you mentioned this, she would scold you again.

She hummed and you honestly couldn’t tell if she believed you or not. “Well, if you’re going out already, can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

She quickly scribbled something onto a piece of paper and handed it over to you along with a small wad of cash. “Magoroku forgot to take this with him this morning. Would you be a dear and take this to him? These are the directions to his school.”

You bit your lip, wanting to flat-out tell her no, but you couldn’t. You had invaded her home, you didn’t pay bills and you rarely did any housework. She was asking you to do this, what right did you have to say no? With a forced smile, you accepted the paper. “Okay…”

“You should be able to find Suzuran without any trouble, but feel free to call me if you get lost.”

“Sure…”

“Thank you, dear.” She offered you a smile before heading down the hall toward her bedroom.

When she was out of sight, you frowned, shoving the money into your pocket before heading out the door. Sure enough, the school wasn’t too far from the apartment complex though you were instantly overcome with a sense of dread as soon as you saw it. You would have thought it was abandoned if not for the hoards of boys standing around, fighting, yelling and laughing.

‘This can’t be the right place…’ you swallowed hard, looking down at the paper in your hand. You even input it into maps to double-check. It was the right place.

A guy took notice of you, standing up to his full height. “Oi, you lost, girlie?”

You tensed up, feeling much like a deer caught in headlights. Your lips parted but your brain couldn’t seem to form words.

He quirked a brow at you, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he approached you. “You’re a foreigner, ain’t cha? Can’t speak Japanese?”

“I-I can…” you replied, cursing at how soft your voice was. You knew from all the delinquent anime you’ve watched that guys like this won’t hesitate to pounce when they sense weakness. 

“This ain’t the place for someone like you, girlie. Run along,” he raised his hand, waving it in a shooing motion.

Your brain struggled to find the proper words to explain why you were there. Though you intended to explain, what came out was simply, “Yamaguchi Magoroku… san.”

“Magoroku?” he replied in surprise. “What do you want with him?”

“His mom…” you started, shifting nervously as you glanced at the group of guys behind him, all watching you. “She asked me to deliver something… to him…”

He hummed, sizing you up for a moment before nodding. “Follow me.”

You hesitated, alarm bells ringing inside your head. Like always, though, you ignored them and slowly followed after him. The group of boys waited until you passed by before following behind you. Even if you wanted to run, you couldn’t now.

A boy was slammed into a locker nearby, making you jump in surprise before closing the distance between yourself and the blonde. He led you through the school, ignoring the strange and curious looks the other students were sending your group. You kept your head down, eyes focused on the back of the blonde’s shoes.

He came to a sudden stop in the courtyard. “Oi, Ito. Where’s Magoroku?”

You slowly lifted your head, swallowing hard at the sheer amount of students that filled the area, all looking tough and cruel. Movement caught your eye and you looked up, meeting the calculating brown eyes of Kamui Ito, standing atop a wooden platform. 

You felt your face heat up as you ripped your gaze away from his. ‘He’s so pretty…’ You suddenly felt very self-conscious, cursing yourself for not running away.

“What do you need with him, Yosuke?”

Yosuke jabbed his thumb toward you. “She says she’s here for ’em. Mentioned his mom.”

You shifted nervously under his gaze, listening to the sound of him jumping down and approaching you.

“I’ll take it from here.”

Yosuke shrugged, patting you roughly on the back as he passed by, leaving you with Ito. You suddenly felt very vulnerable and you didn’t like it.

He watched you for a moment, suspicion clear in his eyes. When he noticed the fear lingering in your eyes, his gaze softened. “What do you need Magoroku for?”

‘Even his voice is pretty… who gave a delinquent the right to be this pretty?’ You cleared your throat, keeping your gaze lowered because you couldn’t handle looking into his eyes. “I have something for him… from his mom…”

“How do you know him?” He tilted his head to the side. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“I…” Your lips parted but you stopped yourself with a frown. You really didn’t want these people to know that you were related to Magoroku and you doubt he wanted anyone to know, either. “I’m a friend… of the family…”

He gave you a scolding look, hand on his hip. “You shouldn’t lie, especially when you’re no good at it.”

Mercy chuckled from where he sat atop the wooden platform, lounging on the couch. He tugged his sunglasses down so he could peer at you over them. “Don’t be too harsh on her, Ito. She’s clearly a foreigner.”

Ito frowned though it was hidden by his mask. As he observed you, he felt a tug at his heartstrings. You looked so small and uncomfortable, like a rabbit that was surrounded by hyenas. You clearly weren’t a fighter and his gut told him that you weren’t a spy, either.

“Forgive me, I -“

“Oi!” Magoroku’s yell echoed through the courtyard as he pushed his way through the crowd. His eyes were filled with anger that was directed right at you. “What the hell are you doing here, huh?”

You winced at his tone.

When you didn’t answer, he scowled. “Are you dumb? Do you really lack that much awareness? You shouldn’t be here, idiot.”

For a moment, you thought he might actually care about you and that made you feel more at ease.

“If anything happens to you, mom will kill me!”

The words went straight to your heart, piercing it like tiny arrows. ‘Oh… right… of course he doesn’t care. Why would he?’ It hurt a lot more than you had expected it to, tears stinging your eyes.

Ito noticed this and frowned, taking a step closer. “You’re being too harsh, Magoroku.”

“Stay out of this,” he snapped, eyes never leaving you. He reached out for your arm but you flinched away, unaware of the surprise that flashed through his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had come, though. “We’re leaving.”

The last thing you wanted was to be alone with him. You quickly pulled the money from your pocket, shoving it against his chest. “Your mom asked me to bring you this, I’m sorry for bothering you!” You bowed, unable to hold back your tears any longer. 

With a curse, you rushed away, pushing your way through the assembled crowd.

Magoroku blinked down at the money in his hand, brow furrowed. When your words clicked in his brain, he groaned, realizing what had happened. He had to wonder what his mom was thinking. Suzuran was a dangerous place, especially for someone like you. 

“Oi, wait a minute!” He cried, taking off after you but you had already disappeared. “Damn it.”

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

You fell onto the swing with a tired sigh, resting your head against the cold chain. You had been walking around for hours in an attempt to find your way back home. When you left Suzuran, you hadn’t been paying attention to where you were running. All you wanted was to get as far away from the school and from Magoroku as possible.

You hated people seeing you cry, something that happened more often than you’d like simply because you cried so easily. It didn’t matter if you were sad, angry or hurt – if the emotion was high enough, it was enough to make you cry.

Your gaze lifted to the dark sky above, dozens of tiny stars shimmering faintly in the darkness. The night was surprisingly quiet, interrupted only by the occasional bark of a dog or the roar of a motorcycle in the distance. It was getting colder out and you were thankful that you had worn your hoodie. You were regretting your choice to wear shorts, though.

Magoroku’s angry face flashed through your mind, bringing a frown to your lips. ‘I bet he hates me now. Well, I suppose he hates me more now, I guess. Maybe I should have stayed with mom…’

“Hey, cutie~”

Your body tensed up at the flirty voice, head snapping toward the guy who was slowly approaching you with a sleazy grin. From the way he was struggling to walk straight, you assumed he was drunk.

“What’re you doin’ out here alone, huh?” he slurred, dark eyes glassy.

You quickly stood up, backing away from him.

“Aw, don’t leave me, cutie! C’mere~” He reached out to grab you but a hand wrapped around his wrist, making him cry out in pain. “Who the hell’re -“

Ito’s eyes flashed angrily as he rushed forward, bringing his knee against the man’s gut. He cried out again, legs giving out beneath him. He curled up into a ball, sobbing about taxes and the lack of love from his mother while he clutched his stomach.

Ito shook his head, hand on the small of your back so he could direct you away from the man. He could feel how tense you were, bringing a frown to his lips. He believed it was simply fear that made you this way, completely oblivious to the fact that it was his close presence that was the true cause.

“Are you alright?” he questioned softly. 

You nodded, not trusting your voice. He was so close to you that you could smell his faint cologne and the scent of his strawberry shampoo. It took everything you had not to lean into his touch. 

“Let’s get you home, your family is worried.”

You frowned, lowering your head. “I’m sorry…”

“What for?”

“My dumbass got lost,” you chuckled softly, but it was bitter. “I caused trouble for everyone because I couldn’t do something simple. I’m sorry for bothering you…”

He wasn’t sure why, but something snapped within him. He turned so that he was facing you, hands on your shoulders to keep you in place. “You didn’t bother me or anyone else and you’re not a dumbass!”

You flinched at his tone, trying to pull away. He held you tighter at first before coming to his senses and letting you go.

He tugged the mask from his face, voice softer this time. “Will you look at me?”

You slowly lifted your eyes, feeling the breath leave your lungs. Your heart raced within your chest, face burning. You already found him to be an extremely pretty boy. Without the mask, though, he was stunning.

He smiled softly at you, warmth in his brown eyes. “You’re not a dumbass, you’re just new to the area. It makes sense that you’d get lost.”

You managed a nod, unable to look away from him. You had never felt this way before, especially not toward someone you had just met. What was this man doing to you?

“You should be kinder to yourself,” he spoke softly, his words catching you off guard. 

It was enough to knock you out of whatever spell he had you under and you scoffed, finally able to look away. “Self-love isn’t really my strong suit.”

He frowned, hand on his hip as he observed you.

You shifted nervously, feeling as if he could read you so easily and you hated it. “Um… if you tell me where to go, I can find my way… probably…”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” he chuckled softly. 

‘Of course, he doesn’t trust me because I -‘

“And not because I don’t think you can handle it alone. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Your eyes widened, snapping to him in surprise. “How did you -“

With a smile, he gently took your hand in his, tugging you down the street. “If self-love isn’t your strong suit, then I’ll just have to teach you until it is.”

Your face burned once again, eyes focused on where your hands were connected. ‘So soft…’ You failed to understand how a delinquent who’s clearly no stranger to fighting could have such soft hands.

Ito squeezed your hand gently, prompting you to meet his gaze. The warmth and kindness lingering there honestly surprised you and you wondered if he treated everyone like this. Did he feel the same strong attraction to you as you did to him? You doubted it, but it was a nice thought. 

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked at him but he had turned his face away from you so you couldn’t see his expression. That also meant he couldn’t see your nod. “Sure…”

He hesitated, biting his lip. “Never mind.”

This brought a frown to your lips, sparking your curiosity that you simply couldn’t ignore. “What is it?”

Coming to a stop, he turned to face you, a light dusting of pink across his cheeks and nose. “Are you… dating anyone?”

That is definitely not the question you were expecting and you felt your face heating up again. Why was he asking this? A small part of you hoped that he liked you, but you weren’t one to get your hopes up. 

“No,” you replied softly, shaking your head.

A smile slid onto his lips, eyes lighting up. “Good.”

What did that mean? Before your mind could come up with negative thoughts, a familiar voice broke through the night.

“Oi!” Magoroku came to a stop in front of you, hands on his knees. He was breathing heavily, breath coming out in thin puffs of smoke. 

This made you frown, guilt settling in your gut. How long had he been looking for you? ‘Did Maka-san scold him? Did she stop him from coming home until he found me?’ “Magoroku-san, I’m so-“

He threw his arms around your neck, holding you tightly to his body. You blinked dumbly, body tense and mind unsure how to process this information. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, squeezing you tighter.

“Eh?” You blinked again, filled with confusion. You had no idea why he was apologizing. Shouldn’t he be yelling at you? Scolding you for making him waste his time?

Magoroku pulled back, a frown on his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry… for being a dick. I can’t believe mom sent you to Suzuran, that was so dangerous. What the hell is wrong with that woman?”

Ito chuckled at his frustration. “Clearly, she wanted the two of you to bond.”

“Clearly, she wanted to frustrate me,” he scoffed, pausing for a moment. “Oi, Ito?”

“Yes?” He was smiling brightly, feeling happy though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Why the hell are you holding my sister’s hand?”

Both of you flushed with embarrassment and you tried to pull your hand away but he just held it tighter. You honestly felt overwhelmed by everything happening – Ito’s presence and warmth, being caught holding his hand and, more importantly, the fact that Magoroku just referred to you as his sister. It was the first time he had done so.

The brunette lifted his head, staring the older male in the eye with a surprising level of determination. “Because I’m her protector.”

Both you and Magoroku stared at him in disbelief, unsure what to say.

Ito just smiled warmly at you, tugging you past your new brother and in the direction of your home. His fingers laced through your own before tugging you closer and you bit your lip to stop the goofy smile from spreading across your face.

“O-Oi! You just met her!” cried Magoroku, stomping toward the two of you.

Ito winked at you before starting to run, taking you along with him. 

“Get back here, you brat!”

Rather than acting afraid, he just laughed. It must have been infectious because it didn’t take long for you to start laughing, as well. It was the first time in a very long time that you felt truly happy and without a care in the world.

───── ⋆⋅🍂⋅⋆ ─────

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy @manhwabtch

-> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

[seecarrun]

Dinner was ready, and Eddie left to go pout somewhere, so that was fucking annoying.

Richie didn’t even know what he had done to piss him off this time; all he knew was that he, Eddie, and Stanley were hanging out with his parents, talking old people shit, because they were all fucking old people now, and Eddie slunk off to go sulk.

Maybe the whole midlife crisis thing hit him hard in the presence of Maggie and Went or something? Something with his late mom, maybe? Who knew.

He found Eddie on the back deck, in his mother’s comically bright orange lounge chair, looking the picture of dejection, and couldn’t help but sigh to himself, mentally preparing for whatever weird shit Eddie had to complain about this time.

“What’s got your noodles in a twist, Spaghetti?” he asked, leaning back on the deck railing.

Eddie scrunched up his nose at the nickname. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Answer the fucking question.”

Eddie opened his mouth to argue, but closed it and sighed sadly. “Your parents like Stan more than me,” he finally admitted.

Richie snorted. “What?”

“They like Stan more than me!” Eddie repeated, indignantly. “Your mom was so excited to see him!”

That was true, Richie admitted to himself. His mother had all but shoved Went out of the way to open the door and greet them.

“Stanley Uris, as I live and breathe!”

Stan smiled sheepishly as Maggie enveloped him in a tight hug, not loving it, but definitely not hating it either.

After a few tight squeezes, she pulled him back to arms length, her eyes welling a bit with unshed tears. “Oh sweetheart, look how handsome you are,” she gushed.

Stan’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he waved her off. “No, I’m nothing special, you’re just used to seeing Richie.”

Wentworth guffawed from where he had plopped himself on the old recliner after Maggie nearly tackled him, and Richie laughed out a ‘Stan the Man gets off a good one!’ while Maggie simply shook her head, smiled, muttered ‘Oh, you kids’ and ushered them all into the kitchen for a drink.

“She’s always had a soft spot for him,” Richie explained with a shrug. “They’ve both been middle aged old ladies since the eighties.”

Eddie glared at him, but kept his mouth shut, probably realizing he had a point. Stan wandered away from Richie’s eleventh birthday party to drink iced tea and bird watch with Maggie rather than eat chocolate cake and play video games with the guys. It wasn’t anything new.

Still, he looked crestfallen, which Richie knew, unfortunately, he had to fix, because he was pathetic and in love, like an idiot.

“Besides, they love you, dude! They just, you know, see you more. You came over last weekend because Mom made too much lasagna. They haven’t seen Stan since 1991.”

“That’s fair,” Eddie agreed. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Yeah, so don’t even sweat it.” He chuckled. “They like both of you more than me, anyway.”

“True,” Eddie said with a grin, so Richie flipped him off, good naturedly, making Eddie laugh and everything right with the world again.

“Okay, you little shit, c’mon. Soup’s on.”

Eddie smiled and stood up. “Thanks, Rich.”

Richie smiled back. “No prob.”

As they walked through the house together, Richie couldn’t help but add. “Honestly, you don’t wanna be their favorite anyway. They’re super lame.”

Eddie, strangely, just smiled cryptically. “I dunno,” he said simply, opening the door to the kitchen and glancing at Richie over his shoulder. “I have my reasons.”

[romione-trope-fest]

The Way I Love(d) You

Fic Title: The Way I Love(d) You

Author name: adenei

Trope: Soulmates

Summary: Junior Auror Ron Weasley is about to embark on his first assignment thanks to a new Death Eater threat. Hermione Granger has sworn off the Magical World forever, living in ignorant bliss as a Muggle. But what they both don’t realize is just how serious this threat is, not only for the magical world, but also for the two of them, and what it means for their future.

WC: 2k & counting (more chapters to be posted on ao3

Rating: Teen

TW: None

*****

5 March 1999

Attn: All Active Junior & Senior Aurors

There will be a mandatory briefing in Fawley Hall at 16:00.

Signed,

G. Robards, Head Auror

“Any idea what this is about?” Ron holds up the inter-office memo that he pulled off of his locker moments ago.

Harry finishes toweling off his hair before acknowledging the half-sheet of parchment. “No idea. But it doesn’t say ‘trainees,’ so why are we included?”

“Well, we did technically finish our six months of training,” Ron reasons.

It’s true. Long, grueling, eighty hour weeks have kept them both occupied since August. Not that Ron’s had anything better to do with his time. Especially since—no. He refuses to go there. He can’t.

Focus on the job. On protecting people. On making a difference. 

That’s all he can do right now. Anything’s better than grappling with what went wrong.

“—Ron?”

“Huh?” He glances back at Harry, realizing he’d tuned him out.

“I said—nevermind. It’s not worth arguing.”

Ordinarily, Ron would want to know what Harry said, but right now he’s too distracted to care. He pulls a clean undershirt out from his locker and pulls it over his head before throwing on his robes and affixing the shiny new badge that very clearly says ‘Junior Auror’ on it to his chest.

“Because you know I’m right.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, we may hold the title of ‘Junior Auror’ but we’re still at the bottom of the totem pole.”

“I love how you say that as if you’re not already some God-sent war hero.” Ron snorts. 

They both are, but Harry definitely gets higher preferential treatment. Not that Ron’s resentful at all. He earned the right to be here, and he’s bloody proud of the badge, even if it means they’re being pulled into a last-minute briefing on a Friday afternoon.

“It’s nice to pretend I’m just like everyone else every once in a while.” Harry grins, trying to keep the comment light-hearted, but Ron knows there’s a stark truth behind it. “Come on, we’re going to be late if we don’t get moving. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be on Robards’ bad side when we’re just starting out.”

Ron bites his tongue, resisting another jab as they head out of the locker room and toward the main entrance of the Auror department. It’s the quickest way to get to the briefing room, otherwise known as Fawley Hall. The large meeting area is already half-full by the time they get there.

Harry and Ron stand against the wall in the back with the other Junior Aurors who don’t dare to take one of the coveted seats at any of the tables. It’s common knowledge among the ranks that the Senior Aurors get precedence in these types of meetings. And though Ron would love to sit because of his aching legs after today’s training session, he doesn’t complain. Hopefully, this will be quick, and they’ll be on their way home for the weekend in no time.

A minute before the meeting is about to start, Ron turns his attention toward Robards, who’s standing tall at the podium. His brow is knotted even tighter than usual and he keeps glancing at the door.

Huh. That’s strange.

Ron’s gaze follows the Head Auror’s and he’s surprised when the Minister for Magic enters the room. 

What the hell’s Kingsley doing here?

He nudges Harry in the side, then cocks his head toward their fellow Order member. “This must really be serious if Kingsley’s here.”

Harry nods, opening his mouth to say something, but Robards clears his throat, signaling that he’s going to begin.

“Thank you all for your punctuality. We won’t keep you long,” he begins in his gruff voice. “Your tireless work to help the Ministry get back in order following the defeat of Voldemort has not gone unnoticed. However, it is far from over. 

“Most of the Death Eaters have been apprehended, but there is still a group of rogue sympathizers who continue to fly under our radar. All of our leads have resulted in dead ends, and while we have names and warrants out for the arrests of half a dozen individuals, I am afraid this may be more serious than we realized.” Robards pauses, looks to Kingsley, and gives a small nod.

Kingsley then steps forward and addresses the room. “There has been a breach in the Department of Mysteries, specifically the Registrar room.”

A low rumble rolls across the room as people mutter to themselves and each other. Ron and Harry share a look. He doesn’t remember the Registrar room. Did they not visit it during their excursion back in fifth year?

Robards holds his hand up to regain everyone’s attention, then continues once it’s quiet. “A large portion of one of the lists was stolen, and we believe that there are many people in danger now as a result. In order to stay ahead of this rogue faction, we need to protect the innocents we believe they are targeting. 

“All Senior Aurors will be prioritizing this case above anything else. We need to catch these Blood Purists before they can do any physical harm to anyone on that list. Junior Aurors, you will be assigned shifts to guard at-risk individuals. Twenty-four hours on, twenty-four hours off. Right now, the threat level is minimal, so the affected witches and wizards will be permitted to go about their daily lives.”

“So, we’ll be acting as their bodyguards?” one of the Junior Aurors calls out. 

Ron can’t help but raise his eyebrows at the bloke’s brazenness. He doesn’t remember the guy’s name, but he reminds Ron of McLaggen. Robards glares at him, but still offers a curt nod. 

Kingsley interrupts again, staring directly at the Junior Auror who spoke out of turn. “Your job to protect these people is just as important as those who are trying to apprehend the Death Eaters. More important, perhaps, considering you’ll be the one in the line of fire should an attack happen upon your watch.”

A Senior Auror in the front raises his hand and Robards nods to him. “What list did they steal? And how do we know who is being targeted off that list?”

“A duplication charm was detected on the Fatum Animarum. They only managed to steal a few pages before stunning the Unspeakable on duty and fleeing. And if you have to ask about targets, then you might need a refresher on the fundamental beliefs of the Death Eaters.” Robards rolls his eyes before continuing. “Now, if there are no further questions, Senior Aurors can pick up their assignments from Cole at the front desk and Junior Aurors come see me. Dismissed.”

A loud scuffle of chair legs scratching against the wood floors accompanies the immediate rise of voices as people begin moving about the room. It’s a bit of a mob scene as half the people head for the exit and the other form a line in front of Robards. Given that Harry and Ron are in the back, they file in at the end of the line. Ron doesn’t mind though, since it gives him time to digest the information.

Harry turns to him while they wait. “Fatum Animarum? Have you heard of that before?”

“Nope. Don’t have a clue. Fatum’s ‘fate’ though, isn’t it?” Ron ponders.

Harry nods slowly. “Or destiny.”

“Why do you know that?”

“It’s the only thing that stuck from Divination. You know, Trelawney had a field day trying to predict my ‘fatum.’” Harry pretends to gag while Ron sniggers. He’d forgotten about that.

“Ah, that rings a bell now that you mention it.”

Now, if he could only figure out what Animarum means. The line is slow moving, and Ron taps Harry on the shoulder to get his attention again, but when his best mate turns around, he’s frowning.

“What?” Ron asks.

“I’m just thinking about Robards’ statement—about who we’re going to be protecting.”

“And? What about it?” But even as Ron says the words, his blood runs cold. “Muggleborns?”

“Who else would Death Eaters be targeting?” Harry tries to reason.

“Fuck.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. Ron’s mind goes blank and overflows with a million different scenarios all at once. He can’t think straight. They’re supposed to be past this. Everything is supposed to be okay now. But even through all the commotion banging around in his head, one name screams at the forefront. 

As if reading his mind, Harry places his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “She’s fine. What are the chances she’s even on that list?”

Ron nods, as if to placate Harry, but he doesn’t mean it. How can they be sure?

No, he can’t let himself go down that path. He needs to focus on the job. He’s about to get an assignment. He needs to keep his senses clear to gain whatever intel he can and—

“—souls.” He catches the last part of someone’s conversation as the line moves forward. It’s a group of Senior Aurors who haven’t left yet. They’re huddled around a nearby table discussing possibilities, apparently eager to get to work. 

“They stole names from the Destiny of Souls,” a dark-haired witch says.

“But why? If they’re targeting Muggleborns, wouldn’t it have been easier to just get those names instead? Hell, I’m sure someone in their ranks already has them! Why go to the trouble?” A balding wizard with glasses retorts. “I’m not saying it’s right either way, but—”

“Merlin, you’re really thick sometimes,” a blonde witch cuts him off. “They don’t care about just any Muggleborn anymore. They’re going after the ones who have the potential to taint bloodlines and make ‘impure’ baby wizards and witches, you dolt.”

“Blimey,” the wizard says, making the connection. “So, they’re targeting the Muggleborn halves of Soul pairs?”

“It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?”

Ron catalogs the information he’s overheard, intent on doing his own research once he has his assignment now that he has more to go off of. The line finally starts to move faster, and eventually he gets to the front.

“Weasley,” Robards addresses him before thrusting an envelope in his hand after Harry moves to the side. 

He takes it and turns around, taking a few steps toward Harry, who’s already going over his assignment. “My first shift’s Sunday,” he says. “What about you?”

Ron tears his envelope open, pulling out the slip of parchment. His heart plummets to his stomach for a multitude of reasons when he sees the name. “No.”

There, in a loopy scrawl he doesn’t recognize, is the name of the witch who left a hole the size of England in his heart: Hermione Granger.

“Wha—oh, shit. Really?”

Ron whips around, turning back to Robards, who is gathering his things in an attempt to leave. “Sir, this has to be a mistake. A conflict of interest. Plus, she’s not even—”

Kingsley, who must have overheard Ron, abandons his other conversation and walks over to him. “It’s not a mistake, Ron.”

He shakes his head. “No, but—why? She’s in—she’s not here.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s safe. None of the Muggleborns on that list are. Especially her. Not after everything she did alongside you two to stop Voldemort.”

A million questions whiz around in Ron’s mind, but one keeps fighting its way to the forefront. He’s not sure how many questions Kingsley or Robards will entertain, so he has to choose wisely. And though there are more logistical questions that should take precedence, the two words slip out anyway.

“Why me?”

Kingsley and Robards share a look before Kingsley’s soft, yet serious expression meets Ron’s. It’s full of the same sureness he remembers when the older wizard assured Ron that Hermione would be okay while she was with him when they went to retrieve Harry two summers ago.

The Minister gives him a small, sympathetic smile. “Because if something happened to her, you’d never forgive us if it was anyone else.”