#and another what appeared to be their childhood teddy bear

[mi-spark]

actual image of me graduating <3

[strangersmunsons]

scorch & magic

you're a little embarrassed about one of your interests, but Eddie puts your mind at ease.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fluff, Beanie Babies, reader collects stuffed animals and is a little embarrassed about it, but of course Eddie doesn't care. No description of reader's appearance, no use of y/n, pet names but no specific pronouns. Warnings: None! Pure, absolutely SFW fluff. Word Count: ~2,100 NEVERMIND ME I AM BEING SILLY AND SELF-INDULGENT AGAIN! here's the beanie baby fic no one asked for. this one goes out to all my fellow adult plushie collectors. inspired by this post and this post. and also this post.

“That’s cute.”

Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up from the jewelry box sitting on your dresser, fingers halting in the middle of their search for your missing earring.

Eddie’s eyes are trained on the faded armchair tucked away in the corner of your room. It’s an old thing, a relic from your parents’ house, the style a tad dated for your taste — not to mention that the earth-toned plaid doesn’t really match anything else in your bedroom, and if you had money to spare on some re-upholstery work, you would. But it’s not the ugliness of the furniture that causes the squirm of embarrassment in your belly.

It’s the giant pile of stuffed animals that are stacked precariously on the cushion that makes you feel just the tiniest bit mortified.

“Oh, that’s just, um…” you trail off uncertainly, flustered at being caught with a hoard of children’s toys in your adult bedroom. “I’ve had them for a long time.” It’s not a total lie; a good number of them were acquired during your childhood, but the truth is, you’re actually an avid collector. You can’t help it — if you’re out shopping somewhere, and you happen to see something cute and soft and cuddly that’s on sale…well, why shouldn’t you buy it? You’re grown. You can do whatever you like. 

At least, that’s what you usually tell yourself. But it’s harder to hold on to that rationale in the face of your new, intimidating, metalhead boyfriend.

Eddie stalks over to the chair to take a closer look. Amusement pulls the corners of his lips up, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. He selects one of your oldest and most favorite toys, a faded pink teddy bear with a rattle encased in its round little body that sounds when he picks it up. It looks funny in his rough hand, at total odds with the bulky silver rings and dark ink.

“I’ve had that since I was a baby,” you tell him quickly, now searching for your elusive earring with a little more urgency. When Eddie came to pick you up for your date, you asked him to wait in the living room while you finished getting ready, but he followed you in here anyway — this is the first time he’s set foot in your bedroom.

You had hoped to find a good hiding spot for all your little guys before that happened. Because you could imagine how someone like Eddie — with all his leather and chains and tattoos — would react to such a hobby. He might stifle his laughter on your behalf, if he decided to be kind. Or he might go so far as to sneer openly at them, put off by his partner engaging in something that others tend to see as so…juvenile.

Too late to do anything about it now, though.

“There’s a lot of them,” he muses, setting the bear down in favor of a small white mouse with brown whiskers and large teeth.

Finally you manage to pick out the matching stud, and poke it through your earlobe. Struggling to push the back into place, you tell him, “I…wasn’t much for Barbies as a kid.” Jewelry secured, you spin on your heel and edge towards the door. “Okay! Are you ready to go?

Eddie puts your mouse back in its place — snug on the lap of another, bigger teddy — and shrugs, still looking far too entertained by the plushie collection for your liking. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Is he smiling or smirking?

You grab his hand and lead him out of the room.

A week later, the topic comes up again when you’re out running errands together. Eddie asked you to tag along while he bought some things for Wayne’s upcoming birthday, so you’re ambling through the shop in search of party supplies. As he pushes the shopping cart down the card aisle, intent on purchasing a goofy note for his uncle — something with googly eyes that sings and has a terrible pun written inside — a display rack near the envelopes catches his eye:

Beanie Babies.

“Hey,” he suddenly pats your back to grab your attention, “do you have any of those?”

You look to where he’s pointing. “Oh!” Those are new. Teeny and understuffed, but realistically cute, with little eyes and —

You shake your head, playing it cool. “No, I don’t,” you answer with as much nonchalance as you can muster.

Eddie gives you a half-smile, and again, you can’t tell if he’s teasing you or not. “You wanna check ‘em out?”

You shake your head, and attempt to twist your face into the most casual expression possible. “Oh, that’s okay. Like I said, most of the ones I have are from when I was a kid, anyway, I-I don’t really buy them anymore. Honestly, the only reason they’re even out is because I haven’t found a good place to put them yet. Or, actually, I’ve been meaning to donate a lot of them.”

Eddie simply listens while you ramble, totally impassive. When you’re finished, he asks, “Even the ones you keep on your bed, that you clearly still sleep with?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and don’t respond. Eddie cracks a smile.

“Are you embarrassed about your stuffed animals?”

Deny, deny, deny. “...no.”

Eddie laughs, and rests both his hands on your shoulders. “Sweetheart, it’s fine,” he promises. “I told you, it’s cute.”

You stare at the floor. “You don’t think it’s like, too babyish or something?” you ask him in a small voice.

Eddie scoffs. “No, of course not. Not if it’s something that makes you happy.” He steers you towards the table with these Beanie Babies, and wraps an arm around your waist. “C’mon, pick one out. It’s on me.”

You glance at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

He nods. “Of course. My treat.”

Hesitantly, you lean in to peruse your options. It’s a little overwhelming. There are bears of all colors, with satin ribbons tied around their necks; some classic farm animals, and more exotic ones, too, like elephants and monkeys; there are even a number of tie-dyed reptiles and sea critters. 

You give Eddie an awed look, unsure of how to narrow it down. He smiles encouragingly. “Whatever you want.”

You start to sort through them, and pick them up one at a time to examine them thoroughly. You weigh them in your hands, and run the pads of your fingers along the fabric, enjoying how soft and pliant they are, while Eddie watches you with interest. Some part of you understands that you’re taking way too long, and maybe you’re even being kind of weird about it, but mostly, you’re caught up in the sensation of how these little friends feel when you hold them. It’s very soothing.

“Hmmm,” you hum quietly, picking up a magenta platypus, laying her flat in your palm.

Eddie rubs your lower back with a firm hand. “So, what are we thinking?”

“I’m not sure yet…” You set the platypus back down, and when you move to pick up a rainbow-striped worm, you pause. A flash of white-pink light catches your eye; you snake a hand deep into the plush pile, chasing the miniscule scrap of iridescent fabric, barely visible amongst the other toys.

You come up with a perfect, snow-white dragon, with shiny wings and pink stitching. Eddie lets out a low whistle.

“I think that’s a winner, babe.”

You turn to him and grin, cheeks feeling warm. “I think so, too.”

The white tag on the bottom, along with a tiny red heart, reads: Magic.

Eddie comes home with you later that night. You perch the new dragon proudly on the edge of your dresser, as opposed to the chair with all the others — you feel she deserves her own special place, being a present from Eddie.

While you position her just right, Eddie flops down onto the mattress and curls around the stuffed bunny you sleep with every night, closing his eyes. He looks so out of place — this metalhead with his heavy combat boots still on, nestled serenely amongst your silk pillows, cuddling with your various teddies.

“Hey,” you scold him playfully. “If you’re spending the night, I hope you don’t plan on sleeping in the middle of the bed like that.”

Eddie lets out an exaggerated sigh in response, but doesn’t open his eyes.

You cross the room, bare feet padding against the carpeted floor. You climb onto the bed and drape your body over his, so you’re laying flat on top of him. Purposefully, you let your knees squish into his legs as you get situated, but he still doesn’t move.

Giving in, you let yourself slump over him, and your head falls into the crook of his neck. Nosing into his curls, you press a small kiss to the pale skin underneath his ear. “Thank you for my gift,” you mumble against him.

He reaches one arm behind him, hand landing on your thigh; he gives it an affectionate squeeze. “You’re welcome.”

Three years pass, and Magic the Dragon remains in your possession all that time. She went from your original apartment to the next one, and then to the house you live in now, which you share with Eddie. She’s still in her place of honor on the bedroom dresser.

The Beanie Baby craze that’s occurred since he bought her for you was truly something to behold (personally, you couldn’t really get into all that mess — the competition gave you far too much anxiety). Both of you shook your heads in disbelief at the utter chaos created by these toys, but it also made you feel a sort of triumph, in a way; you had one of them, but it wasn’t an investment, or some wild fad you had fallen into. 

It was a token of Eddie’s love.

At the time, you didn’t quite make this connection. Your relationship was too green, too new for either of you to throw the word love around casually, or attribute grand feelings to small gestures. But, as Magic’s presence continued to stand the test of time, you started to see the gift for what it really was.

It was Eddie, perceptive Eddie, sensing your insecurity and going out of his way to put your mind at ease. He was reassuring you. It was his way of letting you know that he understood this part of you — however inconsequential that part may be — and that he accepted it.

And he would do this many, many times over, with every single part of yourself that you revealed to him. And everytime you looked at that silly little thing on your dresser, you remembered.

So it seems only fitting that now, in the exact same store three years later, you find Magic’s counterpart in Scorch. Brown scales, red iridescent wings, with green spikes and forked tongue. He’s absolutely perfect.

You know exactly what to do. It’s time to return the favor.

Immediately, you drop him in your shopping basket and hurry on, eager to get home and show Eddie what you’ve found.

You burst through the front door and into the kitchen, practically bouncing with excitement. “Eddie!” 

He’s making dinner, preoccupied with a pot on the stove. Still stirring whatever’s inside, Eddie looks back at you over his shoulder, and his face splits into a wide smile. “Hi, baby.”

“I have something for you!” you tell him in a singsong voice, sauntering over and wrapping your arms around his trim waist, the shopping bag hanging from the crook of your elbow. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

You release him and start rifling through the bag’s contents, while Eddie lays the spoon down and turns to face you in full.

Beaming, you fish out the small stuffed dragon and present it to him with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

Taking it in, Eddie lets out a loud laugh that reverberates around the kitchen. “Oh my God!”

You smile at him happily, and Eddie takes Scorch from you gingerly, looking delighted. “No way.” 

“Yes, way. They’re gonna look so good together.”

And they do. Eddie places Scorch next to Magic, so they’re both perched on the edge of the dresser, facing the room. Then, thinking better of it, he turns them so that they face one another, snouts touching in a tiny dragon kiss.

Satisfied with the positioning, Eddie joins you where you sit at the edge of the bed. Looping an arm around your shoulder, he pulls you close to his side, and presses his lips to yours. 

“Look at that. They’re just like us.”

if you actually read this then thank you that's sweet <3 lmao idk how this ended up being 2k words

[lilac-5ky]

Sex with a Ghost (TojixFem!Reader)

Chapter 2: Evening Newscast

Chapter 1 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

A/N: Took ages to write, but it's here!

Tags: MDNI, Student!Reader, Ghost!Toji, Age Gap(reader 18/Toji early 30s), Oral sex (m.receiving), Manipulation, Loss of Virginity, Corruption Kink, Praise, Degradation, Spanking, Pet Names (princess, baby, does whore count?), Cowgirl, Toji being more of a mean dom this time around, this fic has so much filth idk if I'm leaving anything out.

Word Count: 6.8k of almost pure smut.

The first time your cursed technique manifested was at the tender age of eight, when your paternal grandmother passed away. It happened so unexpectedly fast that the thought didn’t settle until you saw her body being transferred in a bamboo box to the cremation chamber, the last bits of her scattering far into the Pacific Ocean on another impromptu family excursion to Hokkaido.

You remembered your brother, four, at the time, asking your detached father where granny went, his mind too juvenile to process or comprehend the concept of death, and your father’s stern reply as the sand comfortably sank below your feet: “To a better place.”

Back then, you didn’t challenge the existence of such a place. All you wanted to know was its location, because if somewhere better than where you lived existed, who wouldn’t choose to go there instead?

The answer itself came exactly 49 days after her passing, on a night when a crack in your hard exterior let the tears gush out like an endless torrent of sorrow, plangent cries spilling into the shabby teddy bear you claimed you had outgrown. Life seems so ridiculously easy when you are eight, that you keep trying to outrun it without accounting for the inescapable boss at the end of the game until it’s too late to go back to your previous save.

At least that’s what happens in your brother’s video games. You were no nerd.

Although, what you indeed were was a deeply hurt child who begged to apologize for errors not quite crucial, such as that one time you refused to give your grandma a kiss or last Christmas when you called her boring straight to her face. And her eyes—her beautiful violet eyes that you didn’t get to inherit looked back at you with adoration you didn’t deserve—adoration that haunted you even in your childhood bedroom’s windowless confinement.

Adoring, bright, and lively. More lively than they’d been during the entire final year of her life. Attached to the wrinkly apparition with the paper-thinned skin and the rosy nightgown—the very same nightgown the neighbors had found her in, ambient white noise at the end of her tightly gripped remote control—as it escaped from the bubbles of your eyelids and materialized next to your bedpost.

Her smile was gentle, and her scent was the same comforting mix of spring lilacs and freshly baked cookies. And if the notion of her turning into a ghost to haunt you for whatever sins you didn’t repent wasn’t debunked by those exclusive-to-the-living luxuries, finding solace in her snug embrace settled it.

You asked her, back then, where it was that the dead went. And she answered, No further than where the foam washes the shore.

It wasn’t until you were fourteen of age that the same topic was brought up in a most unexpected way; the boy with the unruly white hair and the grin that never ceased to beam brightly as the sun on his lips telling you there was nowhere for the dead to go.

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it with the likes of “they’re always in our hearts” or use a metaphor as complex as the one your grandma did. Instead, he spoke of curses and sorcerers—of an invisible line of energy that flowed in your body and the powerful techniques it fueled.

He explained the differences between ghosts and shikigami, the first of which appeared unregulated on their own, and the second of which depended on the raw energy input of your technique. He offered you a spot at an institution meant to curb your curiosity and further your potential, but more than that, he convinced you you were special.

Perhaps the reason why you despised Gojo Satoru with every fiber of your being and the reason why, after that fateful encounter, you kept running to him for answers were one and the same. Because you were a fool big enough to trust him.

And old habits are notoriously hard to kill.

“If it isn’t my favorite student!” Gojo exclaimed as he spotted you marching across the acres of pine trees, your steps slowing down once you noticed a child in his presence.

The kid seemed no older than ten years old, with tousled black spikes prodding out of every node on his head. An unamused look pooled in his emerald eyes, draining them into a pair of perfect slits as he slid behind Gojo’s back, discreetly meddling with the environment of trees and pebbles until he was completely out of sight.

“Meg—” The continuation of his name faded into a threadbare sigh, frayed from usage. You wondered what they were to each other.

“Rushing into puberty, I see,” Gojo mumbled, his attention eventually shifting to you. An icky smile spread to his lips, curling and curving with each word that followed. “How may I help?”

You arched a brow, your arms defiantly closing over your chest. “What makes you think I’m here to ask for help?”

Your mind was still on that boy, searching for an inkling of his presence, partly because you didn’t want others listening in and partly because you hoped your presence hadn’t intimidated him into running away. Although, being in Gojo’s company, you doubted anything could scare the poor thing out of his wits.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, “You have the kinda face that says ‘Help me, sensei. You’re my only hope!’ all over it.”

The motion of his fingers clasping around each other in a praying motion irked you more than his outdated reference and the high-pitched impression of your voice combined. He noticed that, similarly to how he’d also noticed the purple trace peaking from your uniform’s collar the moment you set foot on campus, but he didn’t comment on either. Instead, he leaned against the tree closest to him, his stance mirroring yours.

“So how did it go with Mr. Zen’in?”

A broken transmission of sinful moans intercepted your senses on demand, with the chilling sensation of a stranger’s tongue entrapped between your legs feeling a bit more tangible than just another fever dream—his taste too heady and vivid to dismiss as mere imagination.

“Fine,” you lied.

“Fine?” he repeated.

“Fine,” you insisted.

“Just fine?” he pressed.

“Just fine,” you confirmed, inevitably hissing at him.

Was it too late to ask for a change of mentor?

“So, who’s the kid?” You pointed away from the topic in the direction the kid had run off to. Smart boy.

“That’d be Megumi,” Gojo said. “He’ll be joining us in a few years.”

“Is he…?”

He nodded, confirming the first of your suspicions. Come to think of it, he—Megumi—looked awfully similar to the few Zen’ins you had the displeasure of meeting and, oddly, most similar to your one pleasurable acquaintance. They had the same eyes. Same stubborn scowl, too.

“He’ll soon be one of the leading forces in the Jujutsu world,” Gojo continued. Not under your guidance, he won’t. “Why not stay around till then? Watch your kouhai-to-be thrive?”

“The role of an upperclassman doesn’t suit me. Besides, I can’t wait until I’m out of this place.”

The blindfold he donned concealed about half of his reaction, though his frown revealed plenty. You found it hard to believe that parting with one of his biggest haters filled him with such profound sorrow, but then again, Gojo Satoru was a species of his own. In any case, you preferred his amiable look to this—whatever that was—and changed the subject yet again, paving the path toward the answers you truly sought.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if any Zen’ins kicked the bucket recently?” Your eyes scanned both heaven and earth nervously. “Any Zen’ins with a scar on the lower part of their face, let’s say?” You let linger.

“…Why are you asking?” A hint of suggestion grazed his question, his eyes surely glinting with mischief.

You stumbled over your own words, struggling to come up with an answer that didn’t involve sharing the finer details of the unnamed man’s biceps snaring around your body while his tongue ran laps around your pussy, drooling over you as if you were a chew toy.

No, you’d much rather Gojo found out that for a brief regrettable moment when you were fifteen, you may or may not have crushed on him rather than allow him a glimpse into your blossoming sex life.

And so, brute force was all that was left.

You padded toward him and shaped a rough circle with your index and thumb, the former losing momentum the closer you got to flicking his covered forehead.

“How many times are you gonna try that?” A shit-eating grin betrayed his amusement. “You know it won’t land.”

“I don’t want to make it land,” you retorted. “I just want you to feel my hostility.”

“I feel it plenty just by looking at you,” Gojo chuckled, repelling you without lifting a single finger.

Your frustration boiled into a low grunt as you slapped the air between you, mumbling incoherent slurs with your back eventually turning on him. This was pointless. You were better off asking Miss Ieri or that new Nanami guy; they’d be more helpful than this piece of—

“Zen’in Toji.”

As if the name wasn’t enough to make you freeze in your tracks, the hand that fiddled with your shirt’s collar had your feet rooting into the soil.

Maybe if you stayed still enough, you could eventually turn into a tree.

You braced yourself for the earful of the century and glanced over your shoulder, expecting the first round of reprimands to be fired any minute now, but nothing came out of his mouth. At least now, while your eyes scanned his bared pearly whites for hints of gunpowder.

“I know you won’t listen to your favorite teacher, but” How many times do I need to tell you that you aren’t? “don’t go around summoning dangerous men.

“Please.”

You returned home to four sets of untouched slippers and a sticky note hanging from the fridge, your mother’s handwriting informing you the three of them, squirt included, had gone off camping in Okinawa and wouldn’t be back till Monday.

Oh, and that they’d left some more of that lasagna in the fridge in case you felt hungry—a single portion to last you the three days of their absence. Even a pet would be pushed to starvation with that little food, and as expected, there was no pizza money in the key bowl by the counter either.

Great!

Leaving tomorrow’s worries to tomorrow you, you slumped down on the couch with the cold tupperware in hand. You flipped through the channels and settled for the evening newscast. Arsonists, murderers, and tax evaders—one more despicable than the other—yet you felt inclined to smile. If it weren’t for their generous contribution to society, half of the news staff—including both the anchorwoman and her fancy Dior suit—would end up on the street.

Perhaps that was the punchline. The same society that condemned dangerous men needed them to do dangerous things so a minority could be paid for pointing out their errors. Similarly, the value of Jujutsu sorcerers was dependent on horrible things happening, and in a curse-free society, even someone like Gojo would be useless.

You wondered if Toji had ever made it to the headlines or if, like you, he was merely an observer of the world’s fatalities. You knew he lied. He was neither the Ten Shadows user nor did he die over a hundred years ago, and as wretched as Gojo was, he didn’t dub people dangerous for no reason. Come to think of it, you’d never heard of him using that term before. He was too conceited for that.

Then there was Toji’s reaction when you mentioned your teacher, both instances pointing in the same direction; they knew each other. Well enough for each to be a controversial topic to the other, and poorly enough to guarantee no warm sentiments remained.

Judging from Toji’s outfit and Gojo’s current age, Toji’s time of death was estimated sometime during the previous decade—and that was about all the information you had on him. A dangerous impostor from the Zen’in clan with a knack for sweet-talking his way into your panties.

And maybe that should have deterred you from bringing out the crystal sphere, but it didn’t. You were most curious about the man’s identity, and as exalted as Gojo was, he didn’t have a pussy of his own. He didn’t know of the gates Toji opened for you with his tongue, and certainly wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. You were putting both your career as a sorcerer and your relationship with him in line for dick.

You placed the ball on the coffee table and recited the incantation, revving up the sphere with cursed energy until the familiar silhouette of tight black and loose white appeared between the couch and the screen, looking as brilliant and pissed as ever. So very pissed that you could sense the fury in his eyes while staring at his feet, nearly wishing you’d listened to Gojo.

“Hey, Toj—”

“Some nerve you have.” The man’s gruff voice denied your squeaky calling of his name. “Did ya good and then ya threw me out—really?”

“I can explain—”

“Explain?” Toji laughed, and it felt like nails on a chalkboard. “Explain what, hm? You think I’m your personal fucktoy? That I’ve got nothin’ better to do than get this pussy off?”

“No, I—”

“Nah, you listen, kid.” He spoke the word with utter ridicule. “Been in this shit world longer than ya and got your type down pat. All prim and proper with your little Bambi eyes and pouty lips; all ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no sir’ until you get what you want, then off to the next available dick you go—ain’t that right?”

It’s not.

You stuck your bottom lip out in complaint, your forehead begging to unite with your knees as you coiled into yourself, sinking deeper into the cushions, and Toji—he wouldn’t let you catch a break, wandering around the shrinking space while he spat his accusations, his stride eventually bringing him to stand in front of you, a proper executioner with a sharpened cleaver aimed at your neck.

“Thought I asked ya a question, didn’t I?”

You nodded where he could only see your shoulders move, lacking the strength to lift the weight of his contemptuous glare. You heard him sigh and witnessed him crouching, his fists caging you between the couch and his bulging arms—his warm breath inching closer, an indisputable evidence of life.

“Don’t let it go to that pretty little head of yours, but—” His forefinger tapped against your skull, the rasp of his voice mellowing into velvet. “I’m dead without you. Can’t even jerk it to my special girl from the other side.”

You finally peered at him, plump lips parting in awe at how easily he’d switched his approach. A man who’d stop at nothing to get inside your panties—who was willing to adopt a more amiable persona if that meant fooling you. The kind of man who believed ends justified means and was shameless about it, not caring whether his veneer crinkled around the edges or his wolfish smile reeked of deceit.

A dangerous man; sounds about right.

You planted your feet back on the floor and drew out your pout. People use each other all the time. “You really think I’m special?”

His brows knitted at the sudden change in your disposition, a curious smirk stretching his scar as he cupped your cheek. “Wouldn’t be ‘ere if it weren’t for you, sweetheart.”

A person’s worth is defined by their usage. “Am I special even though I’m always left behind? Even if I have no cursed technique to fight with—even when I’ll never be as valuable as Gojo Satoru?”

A fat drop of water gathered in your eye, picked up by Toji’s thumb before it had the chance to escalate into a downpour. So let me be useful to you.

“Gojo Satoru was born with every blessing in the world. Strip those off, and he ain’t no more than a privileged nobody, while you,” he stroked the apple of your cheek tenderly, the green in his eyes faltering behind soft-worn eyelids, “you worked hard to get where you are, didn’t ya?”

Let me be special.

You nuzzled his palm, a feeble nod to his query. You had tried so hard to keep up, and yet you felt you had no rightful claim to your efforts. When your classmates put a bit more soul into it, they advanced. When you busted your gut waving swords and three-part staffs around—even during lunch breaks—you simply retained. You were a weak sorcerer, but even this stage of weakness had taken your all.

“Not as if anyone gives a shit.” Toji dropped his hand to your shoulder, his intentions no good as he rubbed his way to your chest. “Gojo or Zen’in—they are both shit names.” His fingers worked on unbuttoning your uniform’s sleeveless top, discomfort contorting his expression while he fumbled with the golden buttons.

“Lemme fill you in on a little something. A name means nothing without strength, but strength means nothing without a name. The Jujutsu world won’t respect ya unless you possess both, and the world ain’t gonna thank ya for your service either way.”

“Then why did you say I was special?”

He smiled at your question, and for a second, you eluded yourself into thinking it was genuine. “Because you’re special to me.”

Your shirt came off, and his voice was silenced as he dipped forward, the tip of his tongue finding your mouth before his lips. You blinked slowly, while he pulled your breasts outside their confinement, your bra’s underwire poking at your ribs. He smiled again before he dragged his lips across your neck and collarbones, renewing each and every one of the marks he’d planted on your body the previous night, and with his doing that, your guilt was too renewed.

Your memory trailed back to Gojo and how he’d helped cover them up—the final please of his fueling you with so much anger that overpowered any pleasure Toji offered. He had no right to act like a guardian when it was because of him that you’d lost all respect for yourself. You once thought you were special because he told you so. You were brought into this world because of him, and like a flower that was plucked out and placed in a pot of different soil, you were doomed to wither.

It was all his fault—a series of wrongs that Toji’s touch meant to right.

The television droned on about stock rates behind Toji’s broad shoulders, his mouth skipping to your nipples. His tongue lapped at what his teeth bit, suckling hard on them as if they were the sweetest lollipops. He was much rougher than he was the first time, not caring that your whines were almost of pain rather than bliss.

You brought a hand down his choppy hair, and he glanced up, jade eyes boring into yours while his mouth parted to reveal his tongue swirling around your nipple.

“You don’t have to try with me.” Toji mumbled, his warm lips spreading pretty lies from one stiffened peak to the other. “No need to pretend a damn thing when your tits are so perfect.” He spoke with absolute certainty—a mere fact his teeth attested to, sharp canines bruising your plushy skin while the grip around his hair turned into a hesitant yank.

His large palm—bearing the scars and tribulations of his old life—clamped around your breast, squeezing it closer to the other until his face was buried in the middle, lulled-out tongue licking up a strip.

“Can squeeze such a nice little hole out of ‘em. Have my cum runnin all the way down ‘ere,” he paused short of your navel, his lips parting from your tummy with a gentle kiss. “Or be sloppy and—heh—spray it all over. ‘s all up to you, baby.”

If there was a time for you to say you had no preference because you couldn’t weigh either choice, that would’ve been it. But doing so meant calling out your bluff, and you didn’t want his praises to stop. You wanted them to keep coming and for him to keep showering you with his affection until you believed them to be true.

Toji got back on his feet, your eyes leveling with the prominent bulge in his pants, and you got an idea. Notably, not the brightest idea in the book, but one that easily roused his interest as your hands reached out to his hips, fiddling with the loose ends of his belt. You had never seen a dick up close, but you were about to have one in your mouth. You were going to prove you were worthy of his attention.

Your eyes shone brightly as you gave his clothed length a bold stroke. “I wanna see it.”

His head cocked to the side while he considered your request, holding off his reply until you were tugging at his belt. “What happened to your precious school project, hm? Don’t care if ya fail anymore?”

“I wanna try it,” you insisted.

He fought back a smirk from rising to his lips, wetting his slanted scar instead. “After what you did, you think I should let ya have my cock? You think you deserve it?”

You nodded, pathetically rubbing your cheek against his crotch with your mouth popping wide open and your flattened tongue tracing the hard outline from the base to where his pants grew baggier. You heard him kiss his teeth, a low chuckle escaping him. “You’re a real nasty brat, aren’t ya? You’d do anything to be my whore?”

Holding onto his hips, you followed the same route and gazed up at him. “I want more than that.”

“Oh?” Toji chuckled again, utterly amused by your conviction.

“I want to please you.” You ran both hands up and down his sculpted thighs. “I want to do well for you; I—” you trailed off, shameless in your admission. “I don’t want to give up.”

“That right?” A thin eyebrow questioned. “You wanna be my good girl?” The term aroused you more than it should’ve, with fire pooling low in your abdomen as greed. More. Give me more. “Then better give it your best.”

He stood proudly as you managed to undo his belt and pull down his pants along with his underwear, expectant of your reaction. Your first impression was about as good as your last. It was big—words you didn’t refrain from expressing with a soft gasp rounding your lips.

Granted, you had no means of comparison, yet you doubted he was by any means average. Long, girthy, and veiny, with a slight curve to it that didn’t make things any better for the knot in your throat.

“Scared already?” Toji asked in a mocking tone. “Don’t tell me you were all talk.”

Your hands moved shakily as you measured his length with your fists, mildly wondering how you could possibly fit him in your mouth when your fingers barely connected around the thick base of his shaft. Too big, you mused.

You started pumping him at a languid pace, gaining confidence the more you acquainted yourself with the feeling of having something warm and heavy pulsate in your grip. You weren’t sure how much pressure to apply or at what speed you ought to stroke, yet judging from the way his abs clenched under his compression shirt, you were getting the hang of it—that was until he shook your hands off and took over.

“Let’s put that little mouth to good use, mm?”

Toji tapped his cock head against your lips, prompting you to open wide for him. You did as you were told, welcoming the swollen mushroomy tip into the warm cavern of your mouth, a salty tang immediately flooding your taste buds. He tasted unlike anything you’d had before. Intense, but not quite overbearing.

“C’mon, princess. Relax your jaw a bit—know you can.” Toji slowly prodded his cock further in, his next instruction being to hollow your cheeks once you’d taken about half of him inside.

You swore you couldn’t fit in the rest; it was impossible. You thought your throat had capped, yet as he swayed his hips back and forth, you felt him gradually slide in deeper, filling every gap possible to the point where your tongue was lodged between your teeth and the thick underside of his cock.

Your vision of Toji grew misty, the profanities that evaded him urging you to follow his lead into bobbing your head at the pace he showed you. Nice and slow. Up and down. Atta girl. So good that his fingers gathered on your scalp to form a makeshift ponytail he kept as leverage. So good that he didn’t hesitate to call you a good girl—his good girl—over and over again, continuously praising every aspect of your body.

Especially your mouth.

“Such a good little mouth,” said Toji, his voice lax even as he fisted your hair into moving faster. “Temptin’ me to fuck it like I wanna fuck that sloppy pussy.”

You were pretty sure your gag reflex had lost its function all the while Toji stuffed his cock down your throat, the air in your lungs filtered by the few unruly dark hairs that led to the happy trail of his stomach.

You had to remind yourself to breathe through your nose, as you slid a flat palm inside his shirt, feeling out the steeled abs that shamed each and every sorcerer you happened to know. Basic workout routines were part of your training, but his body was in a different league.

Plain immaculate.

He caught onto what you were trying to do and lifted his shirt for you, his sneer shattered by the delicate vibrations of your throat on his cock until he, too, was inclined to moan, flinging his head back.

“You’ll make me lose my fucking mind, little girl.” Toji panted, struggling to keep his eyes open.

You hummed happily while your palms splayed further up his body, feeling him throb against your tongue. His breathing began to stutter and he went back to thrusting in your mouth, pressure building in the back of your throat as you choked on his fat cock head, tears openly streaming from your blown out eyes.

“Gonna teach ya to be the best, angel.” Toji grunted, your slobbering sounds complementing the natural gruffness of his voice. “You’ll—fuck, you’ll be the best for me, right, baby? Lemme make a—hah—mess out of all your holes, hm?”

Your nod barely registered over the raspy moan Toji let out when he emptied his load down your throat, ropes of sticky cum stringing your jaw together with his cock as he pulled out. You almost fell off the couch and onto his thigh, the limitations of your body finally catching up to you.

Sucking dick ought to be recognized as an Olympic sport, because this was harder than every unorthodox exercise Gojo put you through combined. Muscles you didn’t know existed felt sore, your slack jaw convincing you it’d never close again, until Toji shoved his thumb between your lips and you willingly cleaned up the last bits of cum.

Maybe this was your true calling. Maybe sucking dick was all you were good at.

The man drew back his finger and plopped down on the couch beside you, manspreading a seat on his lap—one he offered to you with a pat of his hand. He misinterpreted your stalling and asked if you were scared of “Mommy and Daddy” walking in on their daughter bouncing on his dick. That was about the last thing on your mind. What bothered you was the fact that he was still hard as a rock and the possibility of your pussy being split in half before your lie was even exposed.

“Aren’t you supposed to—you know—wait, before…?”

Toji followed your glance low over his body. “Ah, this?” he grinned confidently. Perhaps he’d been asked about it before; you wouldn’t know.

Unashamed, he gave his cock a number of long strokes, his thumb swiping over the slit. It looked far more proportional in his hand than it did in yours. “Ever heard of heavenly restriction?”

The trade-off on a person’s cursed energy in exchange for various limitations or improvements on their body. You’d read that passage in one of the books Gojo offloaded on your back the second you enrolled in Jujutsu Tech. It was one of the many questions you carried to this day, with him brushing it off as an insignificant detail.

“That ass-hat really doesn’t teach ya shit.” Toji rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t agree more. “Don’t mull it over. Just means my body comes with certain features. Extra stamina, bonus strength, and speed.” He smirked. “I could fuck ya all the way to the next week.”

A visible gulp parted from your throat, somehow believing the absurdity of his statement. You wondered what the actual trade-off was. Using his abilities only to fuck around just didn’t seem right. That itself birthed more questions, such as what did he do for a living or how did he do with exorcising curses—was that Megumi kid his?

Toji tapped again on his lap, and that was your last chance to catch the train. You’d come too far to chicken out.

You climbed onto his thighs, your hands grabbing the backrest and your knees planted on both sides of his. He gave a tiny smile before letting his hands roam behind your back, his palms spreading your legs apart. You were still in your skirt and tights. If you were to do this, he’d have to remove both—

A faint gasp escaped your lips as he thumbed a hole between your thighs and drew it out across your ass. You glanced over your shoulder to where your skirt was hiked over your hips; his palms the ones to dress your cheeks instead. He kneaded them roughly, play dough for his fingers, as he forced your entire body to roll against the stiff cock that lay between his stomach and your mound, marveling at the surprised whine his slapping them coaxed.

“Wear tights again, and they won’t be the only ones to rip.”

“These were new!” You protested. “So were the panties from yesterday…”

Your complaints were hushed with two fingers shoved between your nether lips, thighs clenching as he teasingly drove them in and out of your slick. “Leaking this much just from sucking my dick?” He asked once you’d gone back to facing him, following his hand to where it lathered up his cock with your wetness.

“You like being told you’re special; I’ll make ya feel really special.” He forced your hips to grind against him, his cock cupping your entire pussy. “Don’t really let others do that or—ya know.” He shrugged. “But you’re an exception. I need you to fuck yourself dumb on my cock. Think you can do that?”

He didn’t give you enough time to consider alternatives as his mouth crashed on yours, stealing the oxygen along with the sense from your brain with just his tongue. Every filthy kiss he delivered made your heart pound harder in your chest, and when you tried to so much as raise an objection, he kissed you again, whispering sweetly against your lips about how he felt your cunt drool all over him and how if you behaved, he’d eat you out later. In fact, he promised that he would.

You can do this—more than can, you will do this.

Wrapping a small hand around his shaft, you directed the tip toward your tight entrance—perhaps the last time you described it as such—and gently pushed it in. Even when you were drenched, fitting more than the head was a challenge—something he defied the next minute when he clasped your wrists behind your back and held your hip in place for him to thrust up.

A shrill scream bounced across the room’s four walls before it could be swallowed by Toji, his lips seeking to distract you from the pain. He wasn’t more than halfway in, yet the sting was so unbearable that your eyes remained squinting well after he’d kissed the tears off your cheeks.

“Aw, princess lied about being a virgin?” He cooed with fake sympathy, glancing at the ring of faded red that’d formed around his cock, trickling down his balls with the rest of your juices. Damn it!

His comment irked you enough to talk back to him. “And you’ve been so full of shit, yet you don’t see me making it into a big deal, Toji.”

The expressions on his face flickered faster than the channels on your television did—surprise in the way his green eyes widened; annoyance in how his nose scrunched up; and whatever sinister emotion his lopsided smile represented.

“You kept quiet so I’d fuck you?” Toji questioned, and coming from his lips, it sounded so humiliating that you wanted to run away.

You didn’t know what you were thinking. Perhaps that was the issue—you weren’t thinking at all, or else you’d broken the link and gone bawling under the covers of your bed. You felt so shameful rocking your hips forward, while he didn’t feel any shame slapping your ass again, knowing the sound would be louder than the one before.

“T-Toji!” You shrieked, involuntarily sinking lower over his cock.

“Let’s keep score, shall we?” He sneered, the recoil from your ass being spanked sending you to drop against his chest.

He’d let go of your hands; his attention exclusively turned to painting your walls white and your cheeks red as he picked up a mean pace, pounding you from below. You always thought sex would feel good, yet the pleasure he offered was heavily doused in pain, and you didn’t know what to feel anymore. You knew you preferred the softness of his tongue, yet your sobs begged to differ, shifting to full-scale moans you could no longer contain.

“Actin’ all prude when you’re nothing but a hungry cockslut—that’s one strike.” Toji landed another hefty thwack, not minding that it caused your fingernails to dig sharply into his chest.

“Leaving me to hang just because daddy came home—that’s another.” You bit into his shoulder when his balls joined in the action, slamming hard against your butt.

“Being that other brat’s fucking student,” he raised his hand without fulfilling the threat, instead opting to straighten you over his dick.

You were heaving for air, carrying an ugly wince from all the tension he’d subjected you to. His eyes momentarily softened, and he sighed to himself, removing the sticky-with-spit strands of hair from your mouth and then bringing both palms to caress the outlines of your curves.

“Guess that ain’t your fault.” Toji whispered.

You wouldn’t be receiving any apologies from him. That much he made obvious, but when his thumb found your clit and began circling around the little bundle of nerves, you could tell that was his own wretched way of making amends.

“No matter what you try, you’re never gonna reach that asshole.” His thrusting had come to a standstill while he zeroed in on your eyes. “You’re so pathetically weak that you’ll always be looked down on by others.” Your tears almost resumed, and you almost attempted a punch to his face when he scooped up your face in his fingers. “But ya shouldn’t take shit from any damn sorcerer—ya hear me?”

It scared you how he knew exactly what to say to bend you to his will, using even sincerity against you. He was a bastard—no better than Gojo was—and you hated that such a guy was taking your virginity in the same way you hated yourself for leaning down to kiss him, suddenly feeling so incredible that you matched the luscious rocking of his hips with sways of your own.

“Wasn’t lying when I said you’d make the best fuck,” Toji smiled and just like that, you forgave everything.

Your hands met behind his neck while his one arm snared around your waist, the fingers of the other rubbing your clit even after you whined for him to stop.

“Too much?” He’d slyly picked up a faster pace, fucking up into you until your walls rapidly tightened around him like a vice he defied, the tip of his cock coming dangerously close to kissing your cervix with every thrust. “C’mon, ya know my name now. Be a good girl and moan f’me.”

“‘s too good, T-Toji—ah!” Your cries of his name turned incoherent over the spasms of your pussy, as he ripped a shuttering orgasm from your body, much stronger and more violent than anything you’d ever experienced.

“Fucking shit, baby.” Toji grunted, nearly losing his composure as he frantically shoved your hips together, pounding you as if he wanted to break you in half.

Your eyes were crossed, your forehead drooped against his shoulder where you could only answer him with broken ah-ah-ah’s and long-drawn yes’ in a never-ending high, uncertain whether the aftershocks were a result of your first climax or quakes of their own.

“Gonna fill that tight pussy right up.” He slapped your ass, and you whimpered, soaking up pleasure from the pain like a sponge.

Everything he gave was yours to take, and while you’d previously taken offense at his words, it was exactly what you wanted—for him to be your personal fucktoy and you his. School didn’t matter. Grades didn’t matter. Gojo—he didn’t matter at all.

“Gonna pump ya full ‘f my cum and send ya to that shithead.” His veiny cock started to twitch, his breath uneven and his hips gaining momentum over the last few thrusts that drove him over the edge. “My cute little cumslut; signed, sealed, delivered. All ya hafta do is just fucking—uh, take it, Y/N.”

Your name spilled from his mouth in abundance, as generously as his warm cum spilled into your pussy, the creamy mix of your fluids streaming from the point where your bodies connected down to the turquoise couch covers. He came buckets, and you unwittingly milked every last drop, your walls fluttering around him right until he pulled out.

“Not bad.” He patted down your back.

Enough willpower returned for you to sit up on his lap, your knees jiggling like two big lumps of jelly. Walking would result in dropping, yet when he hoisted you in his arms and shoved you to the next pillow, you realized a fate worse than death by falling existed: the combination of coarse fabric and a sore ass.

You discreetly flipped on your stomach, pretending to check out Toji as he tied his pants in place and paraded straight to the fridge. He scratched the back of his head and looked around the drawers, coming to the same conclusion you did about an hour ago. He mumbled something under his breath and returned with two beer cans from your father’s stash.

You thanked him as if he were the owner of the house and you his guest, when in reality, you didn’t even like beer. He didn’t seem to like it either, judging from the way he cringed at the first sip. He dropped the can on the table and picked up your leftovers instead, content with munching on your half-finished lasagna while he zapped through the channels for something more entertaining than the weather forecast.

The awkwardness of having sex for the first time started to creep up on you. Was this what people normally did? Acted as if nothing happened and went along with the rest of their day, not minding that their seed was still oozing from the person whose brains they’d fucked out?

You decided not to ask; you didn’t want to be called butthurt, even though you literally were. You grabbed a bunch of tissues from the table to clean up some of the mess, your frustration boiling over when Toji had the nerve to chuckle at a crude joke from the sitcom he was watching.

“Who is Megumi?”

tags will be in reblog, comment if you wanna be added to the next part!

[undiscovered-horizon]

i know you only uploaded it a few hours ago, but please carry on the reader accidentally summoning morpheus, im dying to know their history, and his feelings on how much time has passed <3 big fan!!

A/N: By popular demand, I'm writing a 2nd part. The quoted poem is something I was obsessed with as a kid. My mom still quotes it.

[Imagine accidentally summoning Morpheus] || [Sandman-inspired playlist]

All of it sounded like a madman's bad joke.

"Wait, hold on." You waved your hand. Hunching over the dusty box filled with remnants of your childhood, you began looking for another trinket that surely must have been there. "You mean that you are... goddamn where is it... I saw it somewhere here... Got it!" you exclaimed when you stood up with a thin, red book in your hand. "You mean that you are this funny fella?"

Your finger was tapping against the cover of a children's book. There was an illustration of a Santa Claus-like man carrying a big sack thrown over his shoulder. He was climbing a ladder to an open bedroom window. Above the picture, in fancy curvy letters, was written Grandfather Sand.

A small smile crept unto Morpheus's face. His eyes lit up vividly and you suspected that if he was any less reserved in his emotional expression, he would have laughed in your face. "Did you think he is the Sandman?"

"I didn't think the Sandman was at all," you retorted as you carelessly tossed the book on your bed. Looking once more at the pleasantly familiar illustration, the nostalgia made you recall something Morpheus had said to you a few minutes ago. "You said you know my face."

"I have visited you many times before," he stated. After a moment, he added in a quieter, defeated tone: "But you don't seem to remember."

You only shrugged your shoulders. "If I was a toddler, then no wonder. It was lifetimes ago."

Morpheus gave the room an absent once-over before staring at the box next to the two of you. Something brown and fur-like was peeking from behind dolls and plastic horses. His pale, skeletal hand reached for the mysterious object only for it to turn out to be an old, worn-out teddy bear. It still smelled of your grandmother's perfume. Sometimes you wondered what happened to him... Apparently, Terry had been safe and sound in your grandmother's basement throughout all those years.

Dream was examining the bear when he suddenly decided to make you recall something you had already forgotten you once remembered: "Maybe Spot tugged at him, tore the ear off, didn't say he's sorry?"

It was a quote - one that you had grown to know all too well. You felt as though that single line from a rhymed story allowed you to rediscover the oldest memories your brain could possibly store like you suddenly became privy to a life you had once led but not anymore. "A needle, a thread, a pair of hands, we'll mend the hurt right away," you quietly continued." You fixed Terry..." Yes, that plushy friend from your childhood did need an 'emergency surgery' once, although you could never quite recall who sew his ear back on. At some point, you even began questioning whether his little accident was even real as there was no sign of a tear whatsoever.

The memory came to you in waves like afterimages of a dream one tries to recall after waking up. It was all blurry, voices heard from miles away and sights as if seen through a dirty lens. "Yeah, I remember I used to ask to be told the same three stories over and over again and you were never frustrated with me."

"You were a great listener."

"So, how does this work? The melody plays and you just, puff, appear wherever?"

Morpheus sat Terry at the top of the dolls, plastic horses and fairytale books about fairies still residing inside the box. His bony hand lingered on the brown, matted fur of the plushie. "It was a gift." His gaze returned to you. "To a girl who just like you could not fall asleep. For decades it remained silent until that one night when I met you for the first time."

Your hand brushed against the ceramic raven inside the music box. It was quite an interesting choice of design for an item meant for children. "A magical heirloom. Sounds cool." The ghosting touch of your fingers was withheld only for you to close the enamelled lid for an unspecified amount of time. "Don't worry, I won't abuse that... privilege. I'm sure you have a lot going on anyway."

Without letting his gaze leave you, Morpheus was a little too quick to answer you. "Play it anytime you want."

His expression remained generally ambiguous but you figured it was just the way he looked. There was, however, one detail of his face that caught your attention: his eyebrows slightly raised making him appear somewhat surprised or nervous. "Is that permission or a suggestion?" you asked.

"Both."

Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @secretdreamlandmentality @kbrownie @lolitaisreal @thegraywitch @aralezinspace @boofy1998

[missdreamshade]

Jack-In-The-Box

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x reader

Genre: yandere au, monster/demon au, imaginary friend au

Summary: Your parents invite you to come take one last look at all your childhood belongings. Little did you know one held a sinister monster that you released from it’s prison - and his eyes are set on you.

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: yandere content, dark content, blood, mentions of gore, death, vomit, profanity, please read at your own risk

“Pumpkin!” Your mom exclaimed the second you stepped foot out of the car. She came running off the porch of your childhood home, engulfing your frame in an overbearingly tight hug, “It's been too long, you need to start coming to visit more often.”

A smile stretched across your lips as you returned her hug, pulling away a brief moment later.

Your mother took your hand in hers, leading you inside. For a split second, her warm gaze flashed down to your bare arm, turning cold. Something solemn swirled in her eyes as she fixated on the scar you had since a young child.

You never knew how it showed up, neither did your parents, but shortly after your eighth birthday, a mark resembling awfully close to an ‘H’ appeared on the inside of your wrist.

“Everything’s,” the woman trailed off for a moment before quickly recollecting herself, “Everything is down the basement. Take anything you want and we’ll donate the rest.”

The basement wreaked of musk and mildew like an old farmhouse. It took more than a few minutes to get used to, but in the meantime, you ignored the pungent smell and headed over towards the boxes in the corner.

It was heartbreaking to have to say goodbye to the home you grew up in, but your parents wanted to downsize their space since it was only the two of them - and you couldn’t blame them for that.

The only downside was not all memories could make it to their new house.

Pulling open the first box, a childish type warmth blossomed in your chest. Sitting on the very top was the teddy bear you grew up with, or Sir. Honey as you called him. The rest of the box was filled with various other toys and a few crayon drawings.

Taking Sir. Honey out of the box, you set him to your left - your keep pile - before digging your hand into the box to pull out something else.

As you rummaged through the cluster paper and plastic, something sharp stabbed into your finger.

“Ow! Shit!”

Your hand immediately retracted as a pained hiss rolled off your tongue. A droplet of blood already formed from the wound and you instinctively flicked your wrist to minimize the sharp sting.

Peering inside the box, face formed into a scowl, you found a thumbtack facing straight up.

Why was there-

“Are you really going to take that box home with you? Isn’t that a children’s toy?” Your brother’s voice echoed throughout the silence of the basement.

A sigh exhaled from your chest. Of course, your younger, much more annoying, brother would be here.

“What are you talking about? We are supposed to…” Your eyes followed his, causing your voice to fade to quiet. Somehow sitting beside you was a blue and yellow toy box.

It wasn’t there when you first got down here, and you couldn’t remember taking it out along with your stuffed bear.

“Weren’t you, like, obsessed with that thing growing up?”

You pulled the toy closer to you, a soft chuckle vibrating your chest, “Yeah, I think I was.”

Upon a closer inspection, you noticed a fresh drop of blood splattered on the top - which must’ve been from flailing your wrist just seconds before. Wiping it away without another care, you set it back down.

Jack-in-the-Box.

It was your absolute favourite toy growing up.

The reason as to why remained foggy in your memory, but you could remember bringing it everywhere with you.

School. Sleep overs. Grandparents.

It didn’t matter because it never left your side.

“You were convinced your imaginary friend lived in there apparently,” your younger brother snickered, walking over to his own boxes of memorabilia, “Don’t you remember? It was kinda creepy. I would hear you talking to it all the time.”

“Really? None of that rings a bell,” Your lips pursed while you contemplated what your brother said.

“How is everything going-”

Your mother trotted down the steps, the same sweet smile on her face before her eyes narrowed in on the same blue and yellow box your brother noticed.

And instantly, her expression fell.

Her reaction seemed odd. Out of place.

Unlike her.

“You’re not keeping that, are you?” Her voice sounded uneasy, but the second you shook your head, she springed back to normal.

“No, I don’t have anywhere to keep it-”

“And you have somewhere to keep Sir. Honey,” your brother interjected, his voice laced with mockery and judgement.

Quickly, you reached back back into your box, grabbing onto a different plushie before chucking it in his direction, warning him to shut his mouth already.

A wave of satisfaction only washed through you once it slammed into his back.

“Like I said,” you continued, shooting a glare at your brother, “No, I think it should go to donate.”

“Alright, sweetheart… Then why don’t I take it and put it with the rest of the donated stuff for you?”

There was something indifferent in her tone of voice, like she held some kind of hidden ulterior motive.

Although, you shrugged your shoulders and handed it up to her. It didn’t matter what she did with it. You didn’t need it anymore anyway.

–

Your keys clanged together as they landed on the hard oak table.

“God,” you mumbled, kicking off your shoes before your arms stretched far above your head.

The drive home was unbelievably exhausting. As much as you adored visiting your family, the threw hour drive between your city and their’s was too much all in one day.

You should’ve just stayed the night like they suggested.

Shifting your eyes towards the clock on the stove, you expected to read the time you managed to stumble through the door. However, 00:00 flashed repeatedly in it’s place.

The rickety floorboards of your apartment creaked under your weight as you inched further into the kitchen. Perhaps, there was a power outage while you were gone.

There! Perfectly logical explanation; no need to be suspicious.

Yet, you couldn’t help the iron-tight ball that was tightening in your gut. It was an ominous type feeling, eerie and dreadful.

Shattering the overpowering silence, the small cellphone in your back pocket began ringing. After pulling it out, a sigh of relief released from your lungs - it was only your mother.

“Hi, pumpkin,” her voice sounded on the other side of the line, “Did you make it home safe?”

Adoration swelled in your chest at her undying concern. Tiredness was evident in her tone, although, you couldn’t help but to smile.

Did she really have to stay up this late just to make sure you got home okay?

Your coat slipped off your shoulders before being hung up on the hook on the wall.

“Of course, mom. I just walked through the-”

As you turned around to the small hallway leading to your bedroom, every muscle in your body froze in place. A gasp shooting out cut you off mid-sentence. Sitting in the middle of the floor, like it was meticulously placed there, was your favourite childhood toy.

Or what used to be.

The one you donated just earlier today.

Sir. Honey slipped through your fingers, falling to the floor.

“Is everything okay? Hello? Y/n?”

A chill dug it’s claws in, crawling it’s way up your spine. Something wasn’t sitting right right. The odd gut feeling you had the second you walked in the building only seemed to magnify. The energy in the room completely shifted, becoming thick, nearly suffocating.

“Mom...” Your voice wavered as you spoke, “Is B/n still at home?”

There was still a chance that this was simply some prank. Maybe, your brother beat you here and was doing this just to scare you. It seemed far fetched, but your younger brother never made any sense to you in the first place.

“He left about an hour ago. Why? Sweetheart, is there something wrong?”

At her words, your heart plummeted to the depths of your stomach. You swore you gave the toy away. No, you were sure of it. You handed it off to your mother with your own bare hands.

There was no explanation as to how it was here. In the middle of your hallway, nonetheless.

“Yeah... Yeah, everything’s okay. Uh, I-I have to go now,” You dragged your hand down your face, ignoring the way the clamminess of your palm, “I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise. I love you. Bye.”

Hardly waiting to hear her response, you ended the call. Finally tearing your eyes away from the small blue and yellow box, you turned to set your phone on a nearby stand, but almost immediately, the blood coursing through your veins turned to ice.

As if it was waiting for you to turn away, music began playing from the box. What used to be a joyful, happy tune that filled your childhood full of fond memories - now felt haunting.

Threatening.

You sucked in the shakiest breath of air before slowly turning on your heel to face the seemingly harmless toy.

Like it was straight out of a Hollywood horror movie, the handle rotated on it’s own. Turning round and round.

“I-Is there someone here? Come on, this isn’t funny,” you called out to the empty apartment, straining your voice to sound braver than how you felt.

As soon as the words rolled off your tongue, the music box stopped, cutting off half way through the song. Everything in the apartment stilled. Even the traffic outside sounded like it came to a stop completely.

The handle stopped moving all together, as if you were hallucinating it this whole time.

Seconds of dead silence stretched on, feeling like an eternity.

But out of your peripheral, swift movement caught your attention. Switching your gaze from the toy box up to your bedroom doorway, a scream lodged from your throat.

A tall, black outline of a man stood only a few feet away. His head was cocked slightly to the side, and from what you could make out, he had some kind of hat on with two bunny-ear-like shapes coming from the sides.

Instantly, your survival instincts kicked in and your feet moved long before your brain registered you were heading for the door. However, you nearly fell flat on your ass from having to skid to an abrupt stop.

The same black figure from behind you was now coming around the kitchen corner - in front of you.

You let out another terrified shriek, hoping the neighbours could hear your distressing calls. Looking back over your shoulder, the figure was somehow still there. Although, this time, he was much, much closer.

There wasn’t much time at all to comprehend what was happening, and your path to escaping was narrowed down far too much for your liking, leaving you nowhere else to run to except your bathroom.

And you did just that.

The door slammed shut almost with enough force to send it flying off the hinges. Before whatever was chasing you could push their way in, you turned the lock on the doorknob.

“Get out, right now! I’m calling the police!” Your voice treamored, but the threat was still confidently there. Somehow you managed to be better than most other heroines in horror films like these, by keeping your phone fused to your hand.

Underneath the bathroom door, shadows of the man’s feet creeped in from under the door.

“Come out and play, Y/n.”

Breath hitched in the back of your throat at the voice. Contrary to the shadows size and build, it sounded like an innocent little boy. One you disturbingly recognized.

“I-I said go away!”

You backed into the furthest corner of the bathroom, keeping your eyes glued to the door, dialling the emergency response number with nothing but muscle memory.

“I said come out and play with me,” the voice dropped in octaves, sounding less innocent, less human, “Don’t make me say it again.”

The words were followed by a series of booming knocks, rattling the door.

To your dismay, the phone pressed against your ear only kept ringing. Never going to voicemail, yet no one picked up.

Since when did the police ignore…

The doorknob beginning to twist and jiggle stole your attention away from the neverending ringing. Your eyes widened in pure horror as you witnessed the lock turning on it’s own, but before you could try and stop it, the door flew open, ricocheting off the bathroom wall with a bang. When it came bouncing back like it was made of rubber, your mouth fell agape at the giant hole it left behind in the plaster.

Despite your raw, aching throat, yet another scream squeezed past your lips. This time, tears welled in your eyes, spilling over and down your cheeks. Your body shook worse than a leaf as you stayed huddled in the safety of your corner.

Though, in reality, you knew you were far from safe.

“W-What do you want from me? Why are you here?” Any courage you once had melted away like snow surrounded by scorching flames.

The man finally walked into the light, turning from a black shadow to… human. Dark circles ringed around his eyes, making him seem both grim and like he hadn’t rested for years.

“Is this how you greet your friends, sunshine? Don’t you recognize me?” His voice was smooth, dangerously chipper, almost charismatic if it wasn’t for the malevolent edge to it.

You shook your head, the ability to use your voice suddenly flying out the window.

Did this psychopath really think you’d know him?

“Tsk, tsk,” With each click of his tongue, he took one step closer, caging you in, “That’s disappointing. I’ve waited all these years for you, Y/n, and you can’t even remember me? I guess you were pretty young the last time we saw each other.”

“H-How… How do you know m-my name? Who are you?”

A smirk curved up on his lips, tugging at one corner.

The sick freak seemed to be lavishing in your fear.

“Does the name Hobi ring any bells?”

You began to frantically shake your head, stirring up a headache - or whiplash - from the force, before slowly trailing to a stop.

Hobi…

Suddenly, a single image raced through your mind. It was you, playing in your bedroom with him. A florally pink tea set sat in the middle of the two of you. He wore the same bunny-like hat that seemed to have disappeared from him now.

“Y-You're… You’re-” You struggled to formulate the words, “But, how… It’s not-”

It wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t. This man couldn’t be your long lost friend. He was a figment of your imagination for fuck sakes.

“Ding, ding, ding,” your imaginary friend taunted, finally coming to a stop directly in front of you before lowering down to your level, “Although, I’d rather be called Hoseok from now on. Hobi is pretty childish, don’t you think?”

A choked sob failed to stay down, and more tears streamed down your face as you shook your head from side to side again.

This had to be a dream. There was no way this was-

Hoseok’s hand shot out towards your arm, and a yelp bounced off the bathroom walls as his fingers pinched your skin.

“See? It’s not a dream,” he flashed a crooked grin as if he could understand your thoughts clear as day.

Hoseok cocked his head to the side, running his eyes from the very tips of your hair and down your body to your toes. There was something almost lustful - with a hint of morbid fascination - about his wandering stare.

“How is this possible?” You breathed, trying to recoil away from him as much as possible, “You aren’t real, you can’t be.”

A boisterous chuckle erupted from the man’s chest, raising the hairs on your arms. It sounded like something straight out of a nightmare.

The type of laugh you’d hear while running for your life.

“Oh, I’m very much real, and you were the one who let me out, sunshine.”

Let him out?

Hoseok’s hand that had dropped back to his side suddenly moved to your legs that stayed securely pulled to your chest. With the same smirk plastered on his face, his fingers traced up and down your bare skin.

“So soft,” he murmured, almost in a trance.

“You’re crazy... Let out? That doesn’t make any sense. A-And why are you staring at me like that?”

His eyes snapped up from your legs, darkening, loosing any colour to his iris - as if you insulted him by interrupting his fixation.

The quick change to his eyes stole any air from your lungs. No human could do that. No one’s eyes could switch from a chocolate brown to charcoal black in less than a second.

This man, whoever he was, wasn’t human.

The rough caress on your skin ceased, and in a flash some of your hair was twirling around his finger.

“You see, all I needed all these years was a drop of virgin blood,” he spoke before lowering his tone down to a whisper, leaning in ever so slightly, so his lips were hovering near your ear, “I have to say, it was a nice surprise finding out you waited this long for me. I felt like I was going crazy inside that box thinking about someone else touching what was mine.”

His? Did he really think you were-

“Of course, I do,” Hoseok’s chest vibrated with a hair raising chuckle while pulling away.

His fingers looped around your wrist, lifting it to show you the obscure ‘H’ that showed up when you were less than ten years old.

“Do you really think you got this by accident?”

Nothing about this situation made sense, yet the gravity of being cornered by a psychopath, sociopath, still weighed down on your shoulders. Hanging on to your last shred of courage, you sprang up from your spot, using every ounce of your strength to knock him to the side.

Without skipping a beat, you left him behind in the bathroom and dashed out of your apartment.

However, no matter how fast you fled, you didn’t miss the animalistic growl that sounded from the man - monster - whatever he was.

“Help! Someone help me!”

You ran down the hall before stopping at a random door, pounding your palms against the wood.

“Please, please, someone help!”

“No one’s going to help you,” Hoseok sang, calmly striding from the doorway of your apartment. Despite being many, many feet away, his voice sounded loud enough to be right inside your head, “And there’s nowhere you can run where I won’t find you.”

No one was answering your desperate pleas for help.

Not the person who lived on the other side of this door.

Not anyone from the neighbouring apartments.

Only the same eerie stillness consumed the entire floor.

“Fuck!” Before Hoseok could get any closer, you high-tailed it towards the main staircase, scurrying down the steps as fast as you could. You jumped over some, skipping others, but as you rounded the first landing, you crashed into something solid.

“Just give in to me. I told you already, there’s nowhere you can run.”

Hoseok’s eyes intently watched your frame as you stumbled backwards, catching yourself on the railing just in time.

“S-Stay away from me!” As much as you wanted it to sound like a strong demand, your voice cracked with fear. It felt like there was nowhere else to run. Whichever direction you picked, he always managed to be there.

But there had to be somewhere else, one last way out of here-

A lightbulb flickered on in your mind.

The basement.

There was an emergency exit through there.

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you, sunshine. It’ll be a big mistake.”

It was becoming more and more apparent how inhuman Hoseok really was. Appearing and disappearing. Being in two different places at once. Answering your thoughts as they rolled in.

Although, his words meant nothing to you, they hardly even registered. You sprinted back up the stairs and headed for the emergency stairwell. This time, Hoseok didn’t seem to follow.

The taste of sweet freedom was hanging on the tip of your tongue.

The basement metal door burst open as you pushed through it, but a scream pierced through the air before your legs had the chance to stop. Standing between you and the last exit left was everyone in your apartment building.

Their bodies laying mangled and lifeless, all carelessly thrown into one giant, rotting pile.

Every last one of them.

“You really shouldn’t have come down here. I did try to warn you.”

Hoseok’s voice sounded all throughout the basement, bouncing off every corner. You couldn’t tell where it was coming from until debris crunching under his boots could be heard stalking up behind you.

The iron smell of blood filled the air, turning it stale.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horrifying sight. Everyone who lived in this building, all aside from you, were laying there. Covered in blood. Eyes still wide in, frozen in terror.

There was the family right next door that you’d occasionally babysit for. Even the sweet old lady from the first floor who’d share her homemade baking with anyone who’d give her the time of day.

“No, no,” you heaved, waterworks erupting and endlessly streaming down your cheeks, “W-Why? Why did you do this?”

“They only would’ve got in our way,” Hoseok whispered, as his arms snaked around your waist, “I knew you wouldn’t be able to behave yourself and not get them involved.”

This couldn’t be real. This just couldn’t be.

His body felt frozen against yours, like a walking corpse had engulfed your frame in an embrace.

“What… What do you want?”

Despair flooded in like a broken dam. There was no doubt to left that Hoseok wasn’t human. He may have the skin of a sheep, but underneath was a savage wolf.

“You.”

The simple three-letter word sounded so possessive, so dark, growling from the depths of his throat.

“I thought it would be obvious by now. I want you. I did all of this because of you.”

Any composure you had left cracked, shattering like frail glass. You broke down into heavy sobs, nearly collapsing if it wasn’t for the monster supporting your weight.

Goosebumps spread like wildfire as Hoseok skimmed his nose up your neck, towards your cheek drenched in salty tears.

“Shh,” he hushed in a pathetic, half-assed, attempt at soothing your cries, before his tongue ran across your skin, tasting your tears, “God, you look so pretty when you cry, but it’s useless now, sunshine. They’re never coming back.”

It didn’t take long for the smell and adrenaline to get to you. Hunching over, all the contents of your stomach emptied onto the concrete floor, leaving you breathless and shaking.

“Oh, you poor thing…” One hand made it way to your head - petting you.

The world around you started spinning, faster and faster as if you were stuck in vertigo. Black splotches filled your vision, and after one last whisper from Hoseok, you collapsed into him.

“You’re finally mine, after all this time.”

• • •

[clj-art-blog]

DFQC`s innocence

I want to share my thoughts about this interesting moment. Maybe someone already knows the answer, but i have only thoughts. When the XLH rested in his body and in his royal bedchamber, women come to him (her) in translucent, light, open clothes. We see that they seem to staying there not for the first time. They are touching Moon Supreme so calmly and habitually. Judging by their voices, they are very excited about his returnthey and they missed about him… And when he (XLH) drives the women away, they become embarrassed and ask the question: “Why did the Supreme Moon drive them away?” (So he didn't chase them off before?)

However, later, after DFQC's plan to get his body back failed, we hear this dialogue: [Subtitles from Netflix] XLH: Why don't you just accept the reality and keep the status quo for now? DFQC: Keep the status quo? You're getting used to it so fast. That's right. You can even use my body to find a man to sleep with. You should be happy. (Wow! Interesting. DFQC is indeed very attractive, so I think not only women would like to have him. And he still thinks XLH could have anyone while she is in his body. And since she is a girl, it is logical to assume that she will wish for a man). XLH: Should I look for you rather than someone else? That's right. You always pretend to be so proud and aloof. I didn't realize you had a lot of women. DFQC:  Have I ever had a woman? XLH:  Yes, you do. DFQC: When I say no, I mean no. (But after all, she saw how women get into his bedroom without any problems) XLH: You're still pretending. What is there to deny? DFQC: I don't need to prove my innocence to you. XLH:  That's right. Anyway, you already said you don't have any love for me. Your affair is none of my business. I'm not even interested. (But it's interesting to me!!!) And Shangque also confirms that DFQC has never had a woman.

And I'll probably add 2 more interesting points: 1) ) [Episode 10] When the Moon Tribe women treated XLH's wounds, they spoke so calmly (relatively calmly) about how the Moon Lord Supreme was infatuated with the fairy from Shuiyuntian.

2) [Episode 12] Later, one of his subordinates, Nanyu King, the leader of the Moon Clan, wasn't surprised either.

Nanyou: My Lord. She… DFQC-XLH: I'm used to her company. Now I don't want her to leave my sight. Nanyou: It's a small issue if you like a fairy. But it's inappropriate for her to take part in our state affairs. ("Shuiyuntian-fairy-Pet" are nothing new!!!) Ha! Just think, another concubine has appeared in the palace and will please the Moon Supreme… Not a problem!

But, let's go back to the Moon Supreme. Earlier in [Episode 3], DFQC genuinely doesn't understand why Orchid won't let herself sleep with him. (He is the Moon Supreme DFQC, damn it, he is very desirable, which means he is used to everyone wanting him). Moreover, there are also these rules of Shuiyuntian that a man and a woman should sleep separately. This is something new for him. From this we can conclude that there is no such rule in Moon tribe and a woman in his bedroom is a common thing. DFQC likes to break the rules, and he is still trying to stay with XLH in her room… What happened next, we all know.

And no. I'm not saying he lied to XLH. DFQC is not a liar. In addition, he is honest and sincere, and his every word is always true. (100%) There is one more important detail of the above dialogue:

DFQC: You're getting used to it so fast. That's right. You can even use my body to find a man to sleep with. You should be happy.

DFQC has been deprived of feelings since childhood. He read a lot and reads even now, and he knows perfectly well what can be between a woman and a man. I think that women did sometimes stay with him at night in his bed, but as "furniture" or "teddy bears" for hugs. Perhaps they danced and sang in front of him. They entertained him in every possible way (played chess, drank tea …I'm kidding), but he did not let them near him, and even more so did not kiss anyone and did not let anyone do it. He cannot experience love or passion. Why would he do something with women / men if he does not experience happiness from this? DFQC never does anything for nothing. He always approaches the matter rationally, which means he will not do something that will not benefit him.

But why is DFQC asking XLH what will happen if she sleeps with him at night? [Episode 3] But he knows so much about it. (he is over 30,000 years old!) But I think he knows himself and that he has no plans for her, even if she wanted him, he would not let her touch him, as he did not allow anyone before . Like, why should she think about it at all? (And it’s true. So baby XLH didn’t only read books about history? And she always avoided and was afraid of DFQC when he once again came into her bedroom … What were you thinking, baby? So she knows very well what can happen...)

That moment, when DFQC kisses XLH underwater (I think he kissed her as much as he wanted. Otherwise, why would he make excuses like that?). We are even shown after that how a leaf sprouts on his tree of emotions. He touches his lips and realizes, that he enjoys kissing her. He never kissed anyone. And this feeling… (Feelings?! Emotions?!)

He is really pure and innocent in front of XLH. He never loved anyone. She is his first and only love.

Personally, I close this puzzle like this. Maybe someone also has thoughts on this? Maybe you have something?

[sphercle-peeps]

I just came up with something horrible.

You know how ghosts are souls right.

And souls are the culmination of one's being, sometimes at their peak.

Can we please talk about how terrifyingly tragic it is for ALL of these ghosts to have been forcefully ripped out of their bodies. It is horrible how painful it must have been.

Some of these must be oh so f-cked in the head from this traumatic experience ESPECIALLY after fighting and losing a WHOLE WORLD WAR as soldiers when they were alive.

(And who knows, maybe not all of them weren't soldiers. Maybe some of them were just accused of being lenient towards certain politics) but this got me to think.

For a soul to be ripped out of a body, there must be a bond to be cut.

Something tells me that the strength of these bonds are entirely dependent on the willpower, fierceness, and dedication of people.

So while some of the weaker soldiers' bonds might be easy to break apart, giving a rather round and plain appearance to the soul after the extraction process:

Following that logic, in Betrayus' case, with Betrayus being the leader of an entire army etc :

The machine that extracted their souls might have used a lot more energy for certain people, including Betrayus.

Then, in that case as well: knowing Betrayus, he resisted and fought. The resistance would have caused his soul to be ripped:

Yeah. That's how dark it's getting. To shreds.

And it doesn't even end there. The whole process might have corrupted his soul and driven him to the point of complete insanity.

All his childhood trauma, all his skills vanished, his toxic traits, his mood swings, his irritability, it's all torturing him at once. Hence why he's so devastated by the idea of being left completely alone with his own thoughts, and finds comfort in things he truly cares about (his teddy bear, his doggy, his food).

And the other ghosts, especially the "Butt Twins" they know that oh so well. And it might be why they put up with him too...

I know this is a long rant. A long ramble if you will. But I'm just analyzing what is objectively a tragedy from another point of view.

What's your opinion about Betrayus ?

[breadcheekstete]

tæhyung thinks he will be a potential tiger hybrid giving his energetic and curious spirit. just to find a bittersweet surprise at the sight of his newfound fluffy ears.

[ !hybrids // fat tæhyung // side vm¡n ]

his awaited 20th birthday approaches, and as the first born in his family, it's easy to say that his parents and relatives are excited to see the changes in the young male.

th watches his friends reach their final stages and turn into various types of mammals and prays. their bodies changing accordingly to their genetics along their newfound animal features.

he's just a couple of months away from the special day and the changes should start to show on his body. or that's what he expected when his childhood best friend jm became a mischievous and lithe calico cat hybrid. the difference is that he already knew he was a cat, just that his spots manifested a week before his birthday.

and for th… he barely developed a tail and his ears lack color or even signs of future patterns.

anxiety takes the best of him so he relies on stress eating, and it makes wonders to distract his mind from everything and his family's expectations. it even improves his sleep by the end of the week, as he always gets too exhausted after stuffing everything he can find, leaving him in a food coma every time. only waking up to eat and repeat.

but when the weight piles up, his family starts to… talk. and that only makes him eat more, and more past his limits even in jm's house, where he's always welcomed warmly.

he's devouring and licking clean a big serving of chicken, nestled with jm on the older's couch as they watch tv. th catches on his best friend's purring, kneading th's engorged gut through the thick blanket. "you must be a big breed," he says. but not in a derogatory way like his family, but in a fond way. "maybe you turn it into muscle when the day comes."

"i -uUrp, 'scuse me, i guess." he's a bit embarrassed of his deteriorating manners, but he can't help it when jm meticulously massages him anytime he's packed full of food. "you must be the only one that– *hic*-uUURp likes it, though…"

jm's ears perk up curiously and somewhat concerned at his tone. "like what?"

th is too awkward to talk about it, so when jm eyes got rounder and his purring stopped he didn't think twice before gesturing at his belly with an energetic shake. it messes his stomach for all the food he packed and a quiet burp slips out his lips.

he ducks his head, hiding the best he can under the blanket. shit. he's about to apologize (or just leave the country and rename himself as vincent) until he hears it.

jm is purring, loud, with his flushed cheeks and his labored breathing. he's purring at the fact that th changed into this. whatever it is. "y-you really like me like this?" the calico hybrid nods, squirming on the spot with the need to touch and knead again.

and th wants him to.

so th puts the blanket aside, revealing his bloated frame barely contained in his unbuttoned jeans and outgrown sweater, and jm is fast to snuggle him and massage his gut like it's his job. more burps make their way out but jm doesn't seem to care. he's too caught in the younger's appearance to care about anything else to be honest. "whatever you become, you'll always be my big, lovely teddy bear."

th hugs jm by his waist and hums on his hair. a bear… it would be so befitting to his body now, it would be… wait a minute. 

that's when th realizes, he is becoming a bear. is common to have various breeds of hybrids in a family even when there's a dominant type that remains for generations. but there was another hybrid besides various kinds of tigers; his great grandma from his dad's side was, indeed, a grizzly bear.

it confirms his suspicions when his ears become fully brown and rounded, now connecting the dots why he packed all the kilos so neatly all over his body, not leaving any inch of skin without a layer of flab.

he's double the size he was before his transition started just two months ago. his belly ballooned taking most of his downward vision and weight along his saggy pair of moobs. his face lacks definition with his developing double chin and his limbs are not too far from his rocketing gain, as he now waddles while walking and his arms barely go around his belly when full.

it also explains his lethargic behavior now that winter is around the corner and hibernation season is about to start.

and he eats a lot more, that's for sure, but he gets bloated frequently and with it the gas is definitely guaranteed whether he likes it or not. he pats his gut proudly and burps at his fist while caressing his underbelly. he should be embarrassed of his gas but... too tired to care, too good not to repeat.

his family finally accommodates to his needs, pampering him with foods and snacks every time he pleases, and loading his room with pillows and blankets for that purpose. he fears he will be hibernating through his birthday, and he kind of did.

but it was celebrated nothenless, with the traditional seaweed soup and a big chocolate cake all for himself. at some point, he's halfway on his cake and he can't keep up because his eyes keep closing. so jm, all cute and attentive since day one, feeds him the rest while th rests his tired arms on top of his belly. he even blows on th's hot chocolate so he doesn't burn his tongue and helps him to bed so he can rest from all the emotions and his (now usual) stuffing.

jm stays cuddled up in th's arms as the big bear hybrid sleeps soundly at the older's purring and his digesting belly.

he loses some of the extra weight when winter ends, not quite reaching his initial weight but he's seemingly more active and regained enough mobility to live normally with his new chubby frame. he's a little taken aback with that many changes in so little time, as he's not used to be consciously fat with no return, but he has jm to remind him how beautiful he is regardless of body type and make the best biscuits on his tummy.

// the end //

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Hey! Since there is already a Wakasa one, why not Benkei for the the character ask game?

( not me trying to know mor about the 1 first BD 👀)

Hi! Sure, i can do that! (I'm always more than glad to talk about BD so if you ever want to ask something or discuss about them, do - it makes me extremely happy)

My first impression

BD's tough guy! Obviously meant to always be depicted with pretty boy next to him - typical contrasting complementing-each-other duo. BD lore incoming! More about Shinichiro (???)

My impression now

He got neglected T~T. Least fleshed-out BD founder. Unfairrrrrr

I truly need to gather every scenes with him and additional information about him to thoroughly extract everything I can find cuz damn without a bit of work he won't ever gain a proper shape in my mind

He's somewhat simultaneously cool-headed and hot-blooded. He could choose to talk to take care of issues - but he has always had the physical strength to punch his way through lol He's impatient, so although he can think about his actions, he doesn't spend a lot of time choosing them. Despite that, he never seems to lose composure.

I'm trusting him to be the only common sense BD 1st gen had (Shinichiro can appear sane but isn't, Takeomi has too much hubris and is out of touch with reality even when he feels bad to actually think things realistically through, Wakasa has common sense but he rather have fun so he disregards it). He joined them in their mess everytime, but it was to make sure they'd get out of there lol

I need to know just how many times him and Wakasa saved Shinichiro and Takeomi's asses.

Favorite thing about that character

He's one of the few characters that see their dream come true! :) Props to him for that, he deserves it! He got into delinquency very young, so it's nice to see he got out – even before the final timeline

Least favorite thing

Hard to say when there's so little about him

Maybe the lack of eyebrows but it's part of his charm so idk

!! The fact there's nothing about him without Wakasa! Wakasa has scenes without Benkei (I'm thinking Original Timeline) but the opposite is not true! It makes characterization harder for readers because he's always near Wakasa. He never interacts with anyone without Wakasa also interacting with them. Which greatly sucks. Let Benkei develops his personality dammit!

Favorite line/scene

Him nodding here. It doesn't have much purpose, Senju is not even looking their way, but Benkei truly cares about her as well

Favorite interaction that character has with another

Mutual instant understanding and trust with Wakasa. They've been archnemesis for a few (speculated) years before becoming the two literal guard dogs (Komainu) of Just Some Guy who showed up one day and made them be friend. It's been over a decade they hang out almost everyday. They know the other better than anyone else and their special attack requires them both for it to work. They're a duo, so, of course, they shouldn't be separated.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

He got nothing with Takeomi in canon-story. I mean, of course there's a point to it - whether it's Takeomi's conscious or not fault, or for another reason: Takeomi is isolated from the rest of BD narratively speaking. And he never seemed to have actually connected with them - but the fact that 1) we only know those 4 from BD 1st gen (there were HUNDREDS of members. We didn't even get to know some captains :() 2) we don't even clearly see the dynamics between each of them back then

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

Ughhh hard to say.

Delmon from Gachiakuta; plus they both have a pretty boy as their duo partner.

(Big scary dudes who have a soft side - I love Teddy Bear-type of characters)

A headcanon about that character

Same as for Wakasa - I heavily inspired myself of irl Benkei's life to imagine what (TR) Benkei's childhood could've been like. It's a tough one for sure, but mostly: the previous Ragnarok gang members (1st and 2nd gen) were like big brothers to him. He spent his childhood roaming around with them. I mean, Ragnarok HAS to mean something very dear to Benkei - he got the logo tattooed on his body (at 13 at most) that's not nothing. He grew up rather poor. Raised by a single mother. He took most of his physical appearance from her (beside his eyes color). He was a troublemaker as a kid

He is used to emptying Wakasa's plate when Wakasa is not hungry anymore (same for Shinichiro and Takeomi) and is glad Senju came along to help with this lol (from what I remember Senju and Benkei are ranked in the top 3 of the biggest eaters while Wakasa was in the top 3 of least-biggest eaters; and if I don't recall correctly well take that as a hc)

A song that reminds of that character

It's even harder than with Wakasa. Despite knowing a lot of song I have nothing specially for them, unfortunately 😔

I perhaps have one that fits, but it'd only fit headcanoning Benkei's life to be similar to IRL Benkei's so.. cw: mention of past rape, child born out of rape's POV, crude language — Christ by Abuse-Ken

An unpopular opinion about that character

I don't know what the opinions on Benkei are to start with

Favorite picture

This one because it's the best to look at his tattoo

[nope-we-are-friends-now]

Love

Fandom: Marvel

Characters: Iron Man x GN!Reader, Vision x GN!Reader, Captain America x GN!Reader

Word Count: 952

Summary:  What was supposed to be head canons of the way they show love turned into this…

Tony Stark

Before Iron Man, Tony Stark didn’t love anyone. Working every day and partying all night, the man barely cares for himself. With a lonely childhood and the people near him turned vultures at the slight mention of money, the only love he knew was superficial. Giant teddy bears, a room full of flowers, and an expensive box of chocolates for the important holidays. For your birthday, all of this, a piece of jewelry, and a party in your name. (While it’s noted in his calendar, Pepper has done all the planning.)

After Afghanistan, Tony Stark, the billionaire playboy, the man without fear, suddenly fears everything. And so, he builds. Iron suit after iron suit, Tony builds to fight what his mind can’t. Chest pains, anxiety, panic attacks, survivors’ guilt, these are all things that Tony cannot fix, but he tries.

“You can’t keep doing this, Tony.” You tell him as you drag him to bed after yet another night of drinking.

“You’re not okay, Tony!” You yell, doing your best to blink the tears away. Tony holds back a groan. Your shouting isn’t helping his headache. So, what if he hasn’t eaten or slept or showered in a few days, Iron suit Mark 5 was complete.

“I can’t watch you kill yourself,” you say, no longer nagging nor pleading. The final straw was Tony passed out drunk yet again. After university, after Afghanistan, after everything the two of you went through, this is the day you two part.

You don’t though. Tony doesn’t ‘fix’ himself, but he tries and really? That’s all you really wanted.  He’s different, this new Tony. He still has the same issues, but his attitude has changed and that makes all the differences.

His love is different too. While there is still the over-the-top party and ridiculous public declaration of love (“I have an appearance to keep up, Y/n!”) There are also quiet days with just the two of you.

Burnt pancakes and a kitchen filled with laughter.

After-nightmare cuddles and 3 a.m. promises

Hand-picked flowers and fast-food dates

One night, after being locked away in his lab all day, he slips into your bedroom.

 “Hey, Babe, wake up.” Tony in true form is wearing his iron suit with the face plate off.

“What?” you say, blinking the sleep away.

“Let’s get married.”

“Tony,” you groan, “Let’s get some sleep first.”

Vision

Before Vision was Vision, It He was JARVIS. When he was JARIS, his only concern (if you could call it that) was completing tasks. His world was made of sequences of zeros and ones and then it wasn’t. The world is a confusing place, but Vision finds that its less with someone you can trust by your side.

For all his attempts to assimilate into society, Vision is just an android. Try as he might, he doesn’t understand many social cues. But you are always ready to answer his questions and for that he- he doesn’t know what he feels, but he would follow you to the end of the universe if you only asked.

He doesn’t know how to care for you. The internet provides mixed information and Vision’s ‘gut’ warns him off asking majority of the avengers for advice. The captain is not of this time, while Iron Man is an alcoholic. Black Widow is a former assassin with no previous relationships and Hulk is just unfamiliar. Thor, despite being in a relationship himself, is just as confused on the topic of human interactions. Vision's only hope is Hawkeye.

Following Hawkeye’s advice, Vision has taken to noting all your hobbies and interests. He has gone as far as to keep up with all the latest information about them.

He updates you on all the new details

He watches you as you work on your hobbies

And he always listens to your rants

In all the chaos that is the Avengers, the relationship you and Vision has is calm. It is peaceful.

Steve

Steve Rogers is ancient. He knows it. All the jokes and comments that go over his head whenever the Avengers hang out remind him of the fact. When Steve was trapped in ice the world changed. He sees it everywhere he looks- media, politics, health care, fashion, and especially relationships.

Used to be a time where a guy would ask a gal out, they’d go to the movies and out to a diner. Afterward, the guy pays for the meal and walk the doll home and if he’s lucky, he’ll get a peck on the cheek.

Times are different now. It’s new, growing, changing. They put a robot on Mars and cheese in a can.

Steve Rogers is ancient. And you are not.

At first Steve didn’t understand why you were always around him. You made jokes he barely understood and liked to call him old. But when he pays attention, he sees it.

Notices how you stare when he workouts

See you look away when he smiles at you

He can’t ignore how you insist on "bringing him into the future”

But he is also aware of the changes in himself

How nervous he is around you

How he finds excuses to be around you

How he feels like an old man and more like a person in love

Once he realizes this, Steve, a true gentleman, woos you the classy way. You two, once friends who were always there for one another, fall in love slowly. Dinner dates and your favorite flowers. Walks in the park and midnight runs to the nearest ice cream shop. Movie nights and picnics. He sketches you often. You take photos of him frequently.

[whump-me]

Whumptober Day 27: Scars

This is a standalone story in my original Mind Games universe, a modern-day sci-fi/fantasy thriller setting about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. Full description in my Whumptober masterpost, which is linked in my pinned post.

This story contains: flirtation, emotional whump

Words: 3000

---

Another late night in the safehouse. The four walls buzzed with quiet activity as everyone tried to embrace the illusion of safety long enough to get a few hours of rest. How that looked was different for everyone.

Some played video games together, embracing the adrenaline of a danger that could be turned off with the flick of a switch. Others curled up in bed for some much-needed sleep. Maybe with a teddy bear or a special blanket they had never given up when they passed out of childhood. Maybe with a weapon hidden under their pillow.

Others planned the next mission. Because there was always a next mission. The Psi Enhancement Research Initiative never slept, so neither could they. PERI had every advantage—numbers, government funding, the weight of decades of operation. Every day, they abducted more Enhanced children to exploit their psi abilities. Every day, more doomed babies were born into their breeding programs, destined for a life as exploited living weapons in PERI’s black-ops program, or briefer and more painful lives as test subjects in their lab. Every day, PERI tracked down more people like them—Enhanced adults with the audacity to want to live in freedom, and maybe even be open about their abilities one day—and brought them to the labs or killed them outright.

They were just one small group against all of that. There were more groups out there like theirs, or so they suspected, but they had never been able to make contact. So they saved who they could, and mourned the rest. There was always more of the latter than the former. There was nothing they could do about that.

Nothing except plan the next mission.

But not everyone spent the late nights doing the responsible thing—whether that meant planning, or sleeping, or even working off some adrenaline in a safe way. Some people hung around in the kitchen until the first glimmers of sunrise appeared over the horizon, flirting over drinks.

Jackson’s drink of choice was whiskey. He preferred good whiskey, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had it. The cheap stuff would do in a pinch. The kitchen was fresh out of clean glasses—he wasn’t the only one who liked to relax with a drink—and he hadn’t been in the mood for doing dishes. So he sipped his drink from a chipped I Love My Golden Retriever mug.

He sat at the counter, because that made him feel like he could get up at any time. Sitting at the table was as good as saying he was settling in for a long night of drinking. The counter was more temporary. It meant hanging around just long enough to finish his drink, then go to bed without pouring another. Or that was what he told himself.

But he told himself the same thing three drinks ago.

He wasn’t the only one sitting at the counter tonight. The new girl, Amber, was drinking whiskey out of a wine glass. He couldn’t decide whether that was classy or trashy. The part that bothered him more was that it was his whiskey. Okay, so he’d never officially claimed it, because that would be as good as admitting he liked it a little too much. But however much she drank would mean less waiting for him tomorrow night. Or tonight, depending on how late he stayed up.

She was sitting too close. And she kept sneaking glances over at him, like she was just waiting for him to meet her eyes and strike up a conversation. He recognized the look in her eyes, and the electricity that seemed to vibrate in the air around her with every shift of her legs. If he did meet her eyes and strike up that conversation, he wouldn’t have to go to bed alone tonight.

It wasn’t like him to turn down an opportunity like that. He wasn’t sure what caused his slight frisson of misgiving. Maybe it was that everything about her screamed young. She wasn’t really all that young, not in terms of her actual age—she was twenty-five at least, probably closer to thirty. But the new recruit had a certain softness about her, like she’d come out of an easy life and didn’t know yet what she had gotten herself into.

Or maybe he was just in the mood to spend the night alone with his drink.

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” She broke the silence. When he looked up at her, the smile on her face was unambiguously flirtatious.

He shrugged. “It’s late.” And then, because he didn’t want to come across like a surly jerk, he gave her a slight smile of his own. “Big raid coming up tomorrow. I’ve been running through the plan in my head.”

It was a lie. He already knew the plan backward and forward. Thinking it through yet again wouldn’t help him at this point. Neither would the whiskey, probably, but he wouldn’t sleep if he went to bed now anyway.

A troubled look passed across her face, briefly dimming her flirtatious smile. “It’ll be my first mission,” she said.

Oh, right. Jackson had forgotten they were bringing the newbie along on this one. He hoped her telekinesis would be useful enough to outweigh her lack of experience.

He hoped it was enough to keep her alive.

“You’ve been on a lot of missions like this, haven’t you?” Her eyes went to the scar that traveled up his arm and under his sleeve. Then to his neck, where another jagged scar stopped just short of his carotid.

He gave another shrug. “A few.” He’d been at this for more than a decade now. Practically all his adult life. As far as he was concerned, he’d earned this whiskey.

He took another drink.

Her hand came up, brushed the scar on his neck. A shiver came over him—half apprehension, half something warmer and more pleasurable.

When he didn’t pull away, her smile gained confidence. She stroked the scar tissue lightly with one finger. “How did you get this?”

“Someone tried to cut me a new smile.” She looked like she was waiting for more, so with a sigh, he gave it to her. “We were trying to rescue a bunch of kids from a PERI lab. One of them didn’t much want to be rescued. Guess it made sense—it was the only world he’d ever known. But he caught me off guard. He grabbed my knife—with his mind, from ten feet away.”

Her eyes went wide. “Did you still rescue him?”

“One of the others shot him full of sedative so we could have a more reasonable conversation when he woke up. I concentrated on the guards trying to keep us from getting him out.” He pointed to a spot just below his ribs, under his shirt. “I’ve got another scar there from that.”

“I bet you gave worse than you got.” Her eyes moved to the spot where he was pointing. They filled with a hungry intensity, as if she thought she could see clear through the fabric of his shirt she stared hard enough.

Oh.

So that was where his misgivings had come from.

He knew that look, and what came with it. And it wasn’t anything felt like dealing with tonight.

He gently lowered her hand from his neck. Her skin was warm and soft. A moment ago, he might have been tempted.

“It’s a bad memory,” he said. “And one best left forgotten.”

She didn’t take the hint. “You don’t have to be shy. You can brag if you want.”

“Bragging’s not my style.” He lifted the chipped mug to his lips and took a longer drink.

“But you’ve been fighting PERI for so much longer than I have,” she said. “And without being Enhanced yourself. You must be awfully good at what you do to go up against operatives with powers on a regular basis.”

“Everyone’s got their own gifts. Mine are more mundane than is the norm around here, that’s all.” His voice was brusque. He looked at his drink, not at her.

“I want to hear your stories,” she insisted. “Maybe it’ll help me prepare for tomorrow.”

She still wasn’t getting the hint. He wondered just how much she’d had to drink already.

She rested her hand on his. “Maybe later,” she said, her voice lowering to a soft purr, “you can even show me more of your scars.”

He jerked away without meaning to. She jumped at the sudden movement. Her eyes were wide and hurt.

Maybe if he hadn’t had so much to drink, he would have found it in him to be tactful. Maybe if he’d been a little less tired. Maybe if he’d been in a better mood.

Probably not. He’d never been known for his tact.

“You don’t want me.” He met the hurt in her eyes with a level gaze. “You think you do, but you don’t. What you like is the image. The scars, and everything you think goes with them. Not the person underneath.”

The hurt on her face transmuted to blurry, drunken anger. “I can’t get to know the person underneath if you won’t give me the chance. That’s all I want—to get to know you.” Her hand crept toward his again.

He tucked his hand away on his lap. “Tell me something—why did you join up with us?”

“Why do you think? Because PERI tried to abduct me and take me away to one of their labs.”

“You could have gone into hiding. Most people in your position do. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look like much of a fighter.”

From the look in her eyes, she most definitely had taken it the wrong way. On a different night, he might have cared.

“I want to fight,” she said. “I want to make a difference.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Do you want a fight—the reality of it? Do you want to walk into that building tomorrow knowing you might never make it out? Or do you just like the romantic image of it all, same as you like my scars?”

Her eyes went hard and cold. He hadn’t thought someone as soft as her was capable of look like that. Maybe he’d gone too far. But he’d seen too many kids like her. He’d buried too many of them in unmarked graves.

Too many of them had put their hands on his scars, only to pull away from him like he was poison when they saw the man underneath.

He thought maybe he should apologize. The memory of all those hands, and all those graves, stopped him.

Her hands went to the bottom of her shirt. She tugged the fabric upward. He groaned internally. Was she even drunker than he’d thought? Was she about to strip naked and try to get him into bed that way, even now that he’d insulted her?

He placed a gentle hand on her wrist. “Don’t.”

She shook away his touch with surprising strength. She tugged her shirt up, but stopped just under her bra. Then she pointed to a thick, jagged line of scar tissue across her abdomen.

“You’re not the only one with scars,” she said.

“I thought this was your first mission.”

“It is. This is from a mugging. It was before my Enhanced gene activated, or I might have been able to do something.” She swiped a hand across her eyes. “I gave him everything he wanted. And he hurt me anyway. He laughed while he did it.”

She let her shirt fall. “I understand scars,” she said. “I’d like to have a few that mean something.”

“I didn’t tell you the rest of that story,” he said, pointing to his neck. “We didn’t get those kids out. The guards killed them rather than let us have them. That one who attacked me? If he hadn’t been out cold, he might have been able to stop them.”

She was silent for a long time. Her eyes stayed locked on his neck, as if the scar there were a puzzle and she thought she could solve it.

“But you tried to save them,” she finally said. “That’s what matters. You’re out there doing something. No hero wins every time.”

“There’s no such thing as heroes,” he said brusquely. “If you think otherwise, you’re still seeing the image instead of the reality. You should walk away now, before you get yourself into something you’re not ready for.”

He didn’t know whether he was talking about the mission or the hint of attraction that still lingered in her eyes.

She opened her mouth, reaching for him again. He spoke before she could. “Big day tomorrow.” He pushed himself up roughly from his stool. “I’m headed to bed.”

He hurried from the room before she could suggest joining him.

Later, lying under the covers, he stared up at the ceiling and saw the hurt in her eyes all over again. Maybe he could have handled that better. Scratch that—he could definitely have handled that better. If he’d been just a little nicer, maybe he could have persuaded her to walk away. He could have convinced her that heroism wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

But then, if he’d been just a little nicer, maybe she could have held on to at least one of the others before her instead of driving them all away. Maybe he could have taught them enough to keep them alive. Maybe he would have had to dig fewer graves.

He hoped she wouldn’t end up in one of those graves. And if she did—and she probably would—he hoped it wouldn’t be his fault.

* * *

Jackson thought about that conversation a lot, in the years that followed. And about his wish.

He should have known better than to make a wish. Even when they came true, there was always a nasty bite to it.

The mission went off almost without a hitch. The previous night’s whiskey, and the lack of sleep, didn’t hurt him any—he was used to fighting under those conditions. They got five kids out, plus a bunch of research data to pass on to their scientist contacts. Only minor injuries… and one member of their group captured.

Amber.

He had hoped she wouldn’t end up in an unmarked grave. But a grave would have been kinder.

Years passed. He picked up new scars. He never figured out how to be nicer about steering away the people who liked the look of them a bit too much. So he learned to be harsher instead. Whenever he was tempted, he thought about Amber. He thought about the look on her face on the morning of the mission, like she’d had something to prove. Something to prove to him.

Some of those newbies ended up in the ground. He was used to it by now.

None of his missions made him feel any more like a hero. Not even the successes. But he never stopped fighting. He figured he’d be at this until it killed him.

Until then, he’d keep picking up scars. Looking more and more intriguing on the outside. Growing more and more poisonous underneath.

Five years later, they raided a PERI facility and rescued a bunch of telekinetics from a lab. All adults. All either quivering wrecks or hard-eyed and silent—there was no middle ground.

One of them was Amber.

He didn’t recognize her at first. She didn’t look young anymore. She had aged more than the five years that had passed. And she was one of the hard-eyed ones, which he wouldn’t have expected.

She had scars of her own now. Needle marks in her arms from PERI’s experimental drugs. Symmetrical scalpel marks on her arms and legs and trunk, precise and symmetrical, from all the times they’d cut her open.

He didn’t ask for details. She didn’t provide them.

She gave no sign of recognizing him. Not there in the facility, and not later, when she was recuperating in the safe house. He didn’t tell her who he was. For all he knew, maybe she didn’t even remember him.

He hoped she didn’t.

If she did, maybe she’d blame him for not trying harder. Or for making her feel like she had something to prove. Maybe she’d be right.

He didn’t spend late nights in the kitchen with a mug of whiskey these days. He was older now, and his body was less forgiving. These days, he was asleep by ten more often than not.

But one night, a week or so after the rescue, he couldn’t sleep. So he succumbed to old habits and headed for the kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway. Amber was there at the counter. Someone else was with her. A new kid. Mathias, Jackson thought his name was. He had stopped keeping track of the newbies. Made it harder to get attached.

She was sipping at a drink—whiskey from a wineglass again. Mathias was leaning in close, paying more attention to her than to his own drink. She glanced at him from time to time, but mostly she stared into her glass.

He touched her arm, just under the crook of the elbow, where a scalpel had opened the skin years before. “Where did you get this one?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away. She looked up—and met Jackson’s eyes over Mathias’s head. From the lack of surprise on her face, she had already known he was there.

She winked. A ghost of a smile flitted across her face. Not the old flirtatious smile. This was something harder and more cynical.

So she remembered after all.

Then she turned back to Mathias, as if that short moment had never happened. She gently lifted his hand away from her arm and set it back down on the counter.

He smiled and faded into the shadows of the hallway. Maybe when she had dismissed the newbie, they would finally finish that drink together.

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @gala1981

Ask to be added or removed from my Whumptober 2023 taglist.

[dark9896]

Family Surprises [Klaus x Reader]

Requested by Anonymous 🥳

Klaus just couldn't help himself, skirting around the back of the car to open your car door for you. Part of his actions were spurred on by wanting to keep up "appearances" for his parents, partly spurred on by his own desires to be a gentleman, and partly because you were pregnant with a second little baby; thought the bump wasn't showing just yet. Though Klaus hadn't accounted for little baby Mina to undo her own buckles; even if it did take her a few tries before climbing over you to get to Papa first.

It was all taken in stride however. Klaus straightened up, Mina clinging to the edge of his vest as he offered you a hand out of the vehicle. Once you were on your feet, Klaus slipped his arm around your waist. Gently and lovingly supporting you as best he could on the walk up to his childhood home. It wasn't often that he had enough free time from work to visit his parents, though they had not let that stop them from offering a hundred times to pay the fare to see their baby boy and his darling family.

You teased Klaus about this simply because he couldn't accept compliments very well without looking like a Christmas light. Despite the blatant open affection, both of Klaus's parents seemed absolutely delighted to see you again. The last time was during a visit shortly after Mina's first birthday, where they spoiled the baby girl with toys and plushies.

As soon as Mina saw where she was... "Grammy! Grampy!"

She tried wiggling out of Klaus's grip. Forcing both of you to stop, given that Klaus was not letting go of you for anything if he could help it; so that your giant teddy bear of a husband could set Mina down properly. Since this was private property, and the sheer number of trained combat butlers and maids on the premise, Klaus felt it was perfectly fine to let Mina run towards his parents.

A little two-year-old toddling away as fast as her little legs could carry her, right into Grammy Reinherz's arms for a tight hug.

"Oh sweetie, Enkelin Shatzi!" Mama Reinherz couldn't contain her grinning, nor would she try, "How nice to see you again! My you've grown so much!"

Papa Reinherz had to stoop a little, but gently patted little Mina's back as a tiny smile crept across his face. As you and Klaus neared, all that could be heard was Mina's little baby babbling, explaining what she did before the flight. Though Papa Reinherz's attention slowly diverted to the two of you.

"Grüße, mein Kinder." His voice was so very deep, you couldn't help but wonder if his vocal cords would snap, "How was your flight?"

"It went well, Vater." Klaus nodded, "Mina was a little frightened when we took off. Though [Name] soothed her fears rather quickly."

"Gute, Gute." He nodded, "And how are you [Name]?"

You smiled a little, extra formal and extremely polite was just how Klaus's family was, "I'm fine. Though we do have some news, maybe it would be best to tell everyone? Assuming the rest of Klaus's siblings are here?"

That caught Mama Reinherz's attention in a heartbeat, "Oh [Name] Liebe, why didn't you say so sooner? Come, come!"

You wondered if saying it like that had told both of Klaus's parents everything too soon, but given that you were soon sitting in the large den and being served tea... Well, this was as good a time as any. Especially with all of Klaus's family in the room. So many nieces, nephews, cousins, and siblings all in one place and there was still room for a small party of 30.

Klaus was a teeny bit nervous about this reveal, uncertain how his family would actually be about this. Certainly, they would be congratulatory about having another child. But would they think the two of you were going too fast? Would they think poorly of you two? Or would Klaus and Gilbert be unloading a little too much at home?

"I'm pregnant again." You were more nervous because of how intensely focused everyone was, Klaus squeezed your hand gently, "We don't know the gender quite yet since I'm not out of the first trimester."

Mama Reinherz looked like she was just told that Christmas came early. Klaus's two sisters had similar looks on their faces, though his father and brothers had much less of a reaction. You could practically see the party planning itself, knowing that you, Klaus, and Mina wouldn't return home until the party was thrown.

All the little children stopped in their tracks to look at the adults. Mama Reinherz was glowing, slipping back and forth between German and English as she bounced around planning a baby shower with Head Maid Bates taking notes. Klaus wanted to try stopping his mother and sisters from planning all this, though his father shook his head slightly. This was an inevitability, best to just let this happen.

"And of course, little Mina can't be left out!" Mama Reinherz lifted the giggly little girl up, "A nice little party for her as well to avoid leaving her out!"

There was really no stopping your mother-in-law. Though you couldn't stay longer than 15 days, Klaus would get too nervous being away from work longer than that. Not that his family would let that stop them from doing as much as possible and following the three of you with these parties if need be.

[dimonds456]

I know you're into fnaf and bendy, but I was curious, do you have any other horror games you enjoy/would recommend? Also hope you have a good time of day <3

Thank you, anon! FNaF and Bendy are two of my special interests, and re-hyperfixating on them happens sometimes lol. I was into other horror games before, but I don't know them as well as those two. But, I can try to recommend some good ones from memory, just know it's been around ~6 years since I've played or watched a Lets Play of any of these.

(And I think it's worth mentioning that I don't play horror games blind, I usually watch a lets play first before I decide to get them. I like horror but I also cannot stand the anxiety it gives me.)

Dark Deception - Takes place in Hell. You're playing a guy who actually deserves to be there, but is given a second chance at redemption if he collects a bunch of crystals for this woman named Helen. Really good character design, good tension. Story is still on-going.

Little Nightmares - Takes place in a strange world where you play as a child named Six, who is absolutely tiny compared to the world around her. It's a side-scroller, which is a fun take on horror, and it utilizes it's far-away camera to its advantage to build tension, and almost feels like you're watching a movie sometimes. You're on a ship called the Maw, which is basically a pleasure cruise for people to eat their hearts out, people who don't look like, well, people. Their bodies have been exaggerated to weird proportions, and their faces are... eugh. Great character design, level design, sfx, music, and holy shit that ending.

Little Nightmares 2 - I believe the theory is that this is a prequel to the first game. I remember less about this game so bear with me here lol. You play as a little boy who finds Six and adventure with her through another dangerous area, this time, a city. He can use TV screens to get around. I think the character designs are better in the second one, but I can't remember enough of the game to say which one was better overall. And holy shit that ending.

Among the Sleep - Gotta be honest, I barely remember this one, but I remember it freaked me OUT back when I first watched a lets play of it. You play as a kid who has a teddy bear, and the bear gets stolen from you at night, so you hop into a nightmare realm to go get it, basically. A lot of it was a metaphor for family issues (and maybe abuse?) from the eyes of a very young child. His mother is clearly upset by something, and it's heavily implied to be an ex or something. But the majority of the game is spent in Wonderland but horror. I should really rewatch this one.

Tattletail - sorry it's more mascot horror, it's what I grew up on. This one takes place at Christmas, where you play as a kid and get a Furby- sorry, Tattletail- as a christmas gift. Then, another one named Mama tries to hunt you down throughout the night. The moral: don't open your Christmas presents early.

Superliminal - Confession: I have not seen this one all the way through. The game fucks with perspective- if you pick up a thumbtack sitting on a desk and then hold it up to the door before dropping it, it becomes as big as it looked while you were holding it. Extremely trippy. The more horror elements start to appear about halfway through.

Subnautica - c'mon you'd be lying if you don't think this is a horror game. it counts. Subnautica is another one of my special interests. Takes place far in the future, your spaceship crashes down on an alien water planet and you're one of only a handful of survivors. The character designs are EXCELLENT, the worldbuilding is captivating, the sound design? MMMM THE SOUND DESIGN. The music goes HARD. And when it gets dark? It gets dark. Trigger warning for big ocean, terrifying creatures, and dealing with a plague during the story.

Doki Doki Literature Club - omg i almost forgot ddlc. DDLC absolutely shaped part of my childhood growing up, as it deals with things like depression, suicide, domestic abuse, and self-harm. You play as an anime self-insert protagonist and start the game off like it's a dating sim- get to know the girls and figure out which ones you wanna get closer to, you know how dating sims work. But there's a moment that happens later in the game that completely rocks the boat, the game resets, and a character completely disappears from the game completely and is never mentioned again. I cannot spoil this one, it's see-to-believe, but also BE CAREFUL with this one. The subject matter it tackles is not for the faint of heart.

Phasmaphobia - Multiplayer ghost hunting game where you can hear your friends getting killed in the distance and there is nothing you can do to save them. Terrifying, but can also be funny under the right circumstances. Specifically Jacksepticeye's first Phasmaphobia video, there's a moment right at the end that makes me burst out laughing every time.

I know there's more but I can't think of any of them so I guess we'll end the list here.

I love horror for weird reasons. I love worldbuilding and fun characters, so if the concept is wild enough, then I might look into it. FNaF was the first horror game I ever watched someone play (unless you count those surprisingly effective Minecraft horror maps from back in the day). I only grew attached to a couple titles, and the rest I'll enjoy casually as a thrill ride if I want one. But as a lets play, because even that is sometimes too much for me.

Uh, I hope this list was a good one! I should really revisit some of these, lol. Among the Sleep specifically, I wanna rewatch that one now as an adult.

[scorchieart]

Something Sweeter | AO3

Rating: G (no warnings)

Characters: Luke Randolph, GN!Reader

Word Count: ~2000

Summary: Young Luke wakes up early to surprise you on your birthday with your (or is it his?) favorite treat in the world.

A/N: Written as a request for the totally lovely and incredibly talented @queengiuliettafirstlady!! This is based off of her fic Destiny of Love (which you should totally check out by the way, just saying. It's really super sweet) and for the prompt: A young Luke and his childhood friend from town who shares the same birthday. I hope you'll like it Julie~ 💚🧡

That makes three times this week he’d nearly died, and no one noticed.

Luke bit the inside of his cheek and slowly backed out of the dingy crawl space. One hand pressed the back of his head while the other wrapped around the two jars he’d just swiped, holding them protectively against his chest. Only the faint rays of morning slipping through the narrow exit behind him served as his guides as he scrupulously maneuvered around the scattered shards of freshly broken glass. The meager light that hit him warmed his back and urged him to continue; if only today wasn’t so warm he’d have had the foresight to wear full-length slacks instead.

At last he managed to pull his head out from the tiny door back into the bright kitchen. He sat against the cupboards and allowed himself to catch his breath before assessing the damage. 

His legs harbored several cuts and scrapes, but none appeared too serious to warrant medical attention. He supposed he should consider himself lucky the too-big boots their neighbor donated shielded him nearly up to his knees, but then again it was the fact that they were so difficult to move around in that led up to his most recent near-death experience.

Trembling, Luke finally removed the hand resting on his head and inspected it. No blood. He let out a relieved breath and rubbed the spot again. He could scrape by with just a bump, especially since he managed to escape with two treasured prizes. 

The jars glimmered hypnotically before him, their amber interiors capturing the delicate dances of sunlight like ethereal ambrosia, but Luke shut his eyes and shook his head. No time for a snack, he wasn’t out of the deep end just yet.

He stuffed the jars up his oversized tunic (another charity from the neighbor) and, pushing his feet as far to the front of the boots as they could go, tiptoed out the kitchen. It was still too early for most people to be up and starting the day, but time seemed to lose all meaning in the house these past few months.

Arms around his stomach and eyes on the front door, Luke cautiously maneuvered across the living room. He successfully shimmied past couches, ducked beneath light fixtures, and stepped over discarded toys, but when the time came to crawl under the dining table the heel of his boot caught in the loop of a stray teddy bear’s bowtie and sent him tumbling. His back slammed into the leg, shaking the entire table, until the whole thing came crashing down atop him. Wood splintered, plates shattered, and silverware rained down on his tiny folded body cradled over his precious loot. 

He didn’t immediately get up after the chaos ended, partly because his body was still reeling from shock and partly because he feared what would come next. Sure enough, the sound of a distant wail permeated the tiny home, even louder than that of the self-destructing table, shaking him to his core. Luke scrambled to pull the fallen tablecloth over his figure when he heard the hurried footsteps approaching from down the hall.

He gripped the tablecloth tightly and prayed he could just tally this off as his fourth overlooked escape from death, but something small and green moving in the corner of his vision made him jump. 

The jars rolled forgotten across the floor as Luke sheepishly raised his head to his mother. She looked down at the remains of her table with a tired gaze and adjusted her hold on the crying infant in her arms. Green eyes meet green eyes for the briefest moment before she turned around and retreated back to her room, rocking and shushing the baby.

Luke frowned as he swept the wreckage in search of the culprit that blew his cover. He soon found it crawling atop the same bear that tripped him; a slimy black and green caterpillar. Gagging, he pinched the ends of the doll, carefully lifted it towards a window, and tossed it into the yard. Then he collected the jars and headed out the door.

The fragrance of May flowers and the chirping of baby birds greeted him as he scuttled down the road. The baker, the butcher, and a few other earlier risers waved as he passed by, but Luke couldn’t spare a moment for any of them that morning. He picked up speed when the red-roofed cottage came into view and inhaled deeply.

“Happy birthday!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, and the nearby birds and squirrels quickly scurried away and hid. It took some effort, but he managed to slow his pace to a halt before he collided with the white gate just as your head poked out the window.

“Luke!” you called back. Your head dipped out of view again as you opened the door and ran out to greet him. “You remembered!”

“‘Course I did! I’ve been planning your present for weeks,” Luke said triumphantly, showing off the jars in his arms.

“It took you weeks to come up with honey?” 

“Well, I wanted to get you something you liked. But every time I tried to think of something, I’d just go back to honey.”

“Sounds to me like you were just hungry,” you laughed. You opened the gate and Luke bounced in towards the tree stump the two of you liked to use as a picnic table. He set the jars down and sat cross legged, pulling the tunic over his injured legs.

“That doesn’t sound to me like you’re complaining,” he singsang, unscrewing the lids. “What’s for breakfast?”

You smirked and went back in the house. Moments later, you reappeared holding a tray with a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses, and a plate piled high with steaming waffles.

“You’re not the only one who’s thinking with their stomach today,” you said, joining him. You begin pouring the lemonade while he drizzles a not-so-conservative amount of honey over the waffle mountain, but the monotony is soon interrupted when you gasp and overfill the second glass.

“Luke, what happened?”

Luke was squeezing the spilled liquid out of his billowing drenched sleeves when he looked up at you in confusion, but his eyes widened and he scampered away, covering the back of his head with his arms as he pushed the distance between you two. 

“S’nothing! Really, you’re just seein’ things!” he sputtered. 

“You hurt yourself again, didn’t you?” you said.

“No, no! It was an accident!”

Luke’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched you sigh and enter the house again. You returned with a towel and bucket and started mopping up the spilled drink while he calmed his breathing. Eventually, he scooted back over to you with his head hung low.

“You want to talk about it?” you asked, picking the towel out of the bucket and applying it to his bruise.

“It’s not fair,” he began, keeping his eyes downcast. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Excuse me, how was it helping when you dropped a beehive on Farmer McDonald’s pigpen on Monday?”

“I was just try’na keep the bees from stinging the animals! The hive was just so slippery it fell!”

“Yes, it fell. And so did you right out of that tree. And what about when you got locked in the storage shed?”

“My stepdad gets tired after work. I was just putting his tools away so no one would steal them!”

“Right, and you ended up sleeping outdoors for three whole nights until I found you,” you said.

Luke pouted. “At least I got some sleep. I can’t keep my eyes closed for ten minutes at home anymore.”

You dunked the towel and wrung it out again. “Babies cry, it’s what they do.”

“Not just cry! They eat and poop and burp and smell and sleep all day and break my toys and can’t eat honey and—”

“You’re her big brother. You’re supposed to love her no matter what.”

“How about you spend the night in my house and tell me if you’d love her after she’s woken you up for the tenth time,” Luke said.

“Luke, you’ve got a little green monster on you,” you said.

Luke turned around and looked at you skeptically. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

You giggled. “No, I mean you’re just jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous of someone who can’t even walk?” he asked, scowling.

“Maybe because she’s getting all the attention?” You guided his hand to hold the towel against his head while you divided the waffles on the plate. You cut a piece and held it on a fork in front of him. “Maybe because you want to be babied, too?”

Luke grumbled and humph-ed, but eventually accepted the bite. He chewed quietly against the stump before opening his mouth again.

“I bumped my head on the shelf and smashed all the long-term jars in the pantry today.”

“You what?”

“Before I broke the dining room table.” He lowered the towel and wiped the cuts on his legs. “It doesn’t matter what I do. I could be the biggest kid in town, or be crowned king, or… or jump into a fire pit and she still wouldn’t notice me.” 

You put down the fork and brushed his auburn hair out of his eyes. “Luke, you can’t keep blaming yourself for everything. I won’t allow it, not on my birthday.”

Luke sniffed but didn’t push your hand away. Sitting in silence, you continued brushing his bangs while he dabbed the rest of his cuts. The animals emerged from their hiding places and placidly continued their routines, their chirps and squeaks tuning around you as they stretched their limbs, foraged for food, and tended to their young. A warm breeze ruffled the trees and bushes and sent loose petals twirling in the air. Twittering bees buzzed overhead, hopping from flower to flower, and a striking monarch butterfly fluttered around you before landing on the rim of one of the honey jars.

“Hey! That’s not yours!” Luke jumped up and vigorously fanned his arms. The butterfly took off, twirled around his head, then rested on the second jar and continued to eat.

You laughed heartily as Luke bared his teeth, the light sound of your voice the only thing keeping him from pouncing on the insect. You stood, dipped your index finger into the gooey honey, and lifted it high. The butterfly abandoned its previous post to perch instead on the tip of your digit. Luke ceased his growling and watched with amazement as the butterfly maintained its position as you moved your hand up and down, the honey dribbling back down into the jar all the while. 

As soon as the honey stopped dripping, you turned to Luke and slathered a dollop onto his nose, and almost immediately the butterfly followed. Luke’s shoulders stiffened as he stared at the butterfly cross-eyed, afraid even the slighted exhale would spark something he’d regret.

“It tickles,” he said, and you smiled.

“If you want to change a person’s mind, you just have to offer something sweeter,” you said, then stuck the tip of your finger into your mouth. “Happy birthday, Luke.”

“Wha—it’s not my birthday!” Luke choked, still rooted in place.

“It might be. I’m giving you a birthday date. It’s my present to you, so you absolutely positively cannot return it.”

Luke fixed you a contemplative stare, his grassy green eyes twinkling with understanding before they closed and he let out a happy laugh. The gesture was so contagious that you found yourself reciprocating, and soon the two of you joined in the song of the Spring choir that surrounded you, the rustles and the chirps and the buzzes, made up of the plants and the animals and the tiniest insects zipping under your noses.

Young Luke deserves all the honey and hugs in the world.

Btw, this is my first attempt at reader insert writing. If you could let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate it (only if you feel like sharing, of course)

Rock on, friends! ✊

Tagging: @atelieredux

Divider credits: @delishlydelightfuldividers

(Check out my Ikemen Prince Writing Master list here! And if you want to send me a request or be added to my tag list, please check the details here!)

[bradsmindbrain]

Russallis reactions to a lost puppy wandering over to their camp?

Puppy

Summary: During a walk through the woods, Jack and Ted stumble upon a lost canine.

TW: None

Ted enjoyed the woods that Jack’s backyard was connected to. Surrounded by nature, almost never another person in sight, and most importantly, an effective cover for getting to Jack’s house. So it was no surprise that he and Jack found themselves walking through it, simply taking in the sights and in Jack’s case, the smells. Jack had thought just walking through the woods would be a nice change of pace for them, rarely did they spend time enjoying nature while they were together, even when in the Everglades. 

He was the first one to notice the dog as they walked, a tiny golden retriever puppy, leash and collar still attached. He grumbled.

Jack turned to face him, a smile on his face, “Yes, Teddy Bear?”

He rolled his eyes, of course this just had to happen when he occasionally called Jack “Puppy” as a petname. He grumbled to clarify, pointing at the dog.

Jack’s eyes lit up, and he scrambled towards the dog. He gently picked it up, moving close to his face, “Poor little guy. Are you lost?” He gently patted its head as it liked his face. He watched Jack check the dog’s collar, turning back around to face him, “His name is Buddy!”

Buddy looked at Ted, giving a happy yip when he spotted him. It was odd, the dog didn’t seem to react with fear at all, but perhaps that was because Jack was holding him. Speaking of, he was more surprised Jack hadn’t reacted with aggression, he had expected Jack to see the dog as a threat to his territory or something similar, but it seemed like that wasn’t the case.

Jack approached him, holding Buddy up, “Come on Teddy Bear, he wants a pet.”

Tes did as he was instructed, gently rubbing the dog’s head before Jack pulled him back into his arms, cradling the canine. He grumbled, curious at what they were going to do. 

Jack tilted his head to the side, a gesture Ted had come to associate with Jack thinking or being curious, “Well we should take him back to his owner. They can’t be too far from here. I guess they took him on a walk and he got loose.”

He watched as Jack brought Buddy up to his face, visibly sniffing the dog. He knew Jack was an excellent tracker, he supposed it was to be expected given Jack’s wolf-like nature. After a moment, Jack pointed off into the distance, “That way.”

And so began their trek, Buddy in his husband’s arms as he followed close behind. He found his husband’s interactions with the dog to be quite cute, wiggling a finger in front of the puppy’s face and scratching his chin. He supposed that Buddy’s young age coupled with Jack’s wolf-like nature had led to the odd paternalism his husband was currently displaying towards the puppy. That was just a theory though, he was pretty sure most anyone would treat the puppy the same way Jack did. 

He’d always been fond of dogs, even before Jack entered his life and even before his accident. His family owned a handful of dogs growing up, and he loved all of them to bits, and seeing Jack play with and tease Buddy reminded him of those simpler times. Perhaps that’s why he found Jack’s dog-like mannerisms to be so endearing, as it reminded him of those happy years during his childhood. 

It wasn’t long until they heard a woman shouting, “Buddy? Buddy, where are you?”

He gestured to his husband to go forward as he laid down on the ground, trying his best to appear as an inconspicuous mound of plants. 

He heard Buddy yip as Jack moved farther and farther away, “Is this your dog, señorita?”

He heard the woman gasp, “Oh my God! Buddy, you found him!” Buddy yipped as he was reunited with his master.

“Me and my husband found him while we were walking through here. I sent him to look for you the other way,” Jack said and he assumed his husband gestures back the way they came.

“You’re a lifesaver, Mr…” the woman trailed on.

“Russell,” Jack interjected, audibly smiling. 

He heard Jack and her talk for a while, mostly just her profusely thanking him and Jack assuring her it was no big deal. Soon, he heard her leave, and once he was sure he was gone, he stood back up, Jack standing right in front of him. Jack smiled, “First a kid and now a puppy, I think you attract cute things just as much as you attract trouble, Teddy Bear.”

He rolled his eyes at the comment, grumbling.

Jack grinned, “I’m just joking, big guy, but you have to admit, Buddy was pretty cute.”

He gave a grumble in response, nodding his head.

Jack stretched his arms above his head, “I think that’s enough hiking for today, let’s head home.”

He grumbled, rubbing his hands together.

Jack nodded, giving that usual goofy grin, “Yeah, Italian sounds nice. I’ll order some when we get home. Maybe if we’re lucky we can pull a Lady and the Tramp with the spaghetti.”

He just rolled his eyes as they prepared to head back to Jack’s house, his husband was so stupid, but so, so funny.

[dicmondskies]

☆ & * .   ♡   i n t r o d u c t i o n  …  

[          ◟  KAY. ◝           ]     ⸻     have  you  ever heard  gives you hell by the all american rejects ,  well  it  is  DAMON RITZ to  a  tee  .  the  twenty seven year  old  american musician has  been  spotted  wandering  down  portobello  road  markets  just  last  sunday  ,  do  you  know  them  ?  would  you  say  he  are  more  safe  or  more  out going ?  anyway  ,  they  remind  me  of  a huge goofy grin, velvety hot chocolate with marshmallows during cold weather months, the good guy character who gets friend zoned or screwed over, a fuzzy cuddly teddy bear ,  maybe  you'll  catch  them  around  yeah ?     ⸻     [          ◟  NOAH CENTINEO. ◝           ]

tw: narcissistic parent, stage mom, secret pregnancy

damon jacob ritz was born to the beloved Rachael Ritz known across the world for her celebrity status in the Broadway world. Born and raised in New York City, New York, damon and his family would frequently vacation at the hamptons throughout his childhood. his mother is your average narcissistic stage mom who puts all of her emotional needs on damon and his sisters, but especially damon. she has a sick twisted way of using damon to fill the void of his father leaving them behind after falling victim to alcoholism, damon has always had the weight of everyone else’s shit on his shoulders, he’s the eldest and only boy, and for a long time he was blind to just how manipulative and destructive his mom could be.

He is extremely close to his three younger sisters and very protective of them, they all three now live in nottinghill with him, in their own homes but they all moved from the united states to england together recently because of their mothers newest broadway show that will be touring there for the next few years as well as damon will be having his first tour in England regarding his music career. 

As a little boy he was naturally gifted with instruments of all kinds, and an angelic singing voice, he has true passion for writing and creating music but his mom sucked all the fun and freedom out of it since he could remember, he was put into acting classes, dance lessons, and of course pushed the child actor route, he was in little commercials, magazines, and supporting roles in movies and tv shows. damon never really connected to the acting scene, but his guitar was his escape.

he went to NYU for performing arts, another choice his mother aided in making for him, and he attended with his long term girlfriend at the time. damon’s mother has always been jealous of anyone who gets close to him that has his best interest at heart because they always end up getting him to see the truth about his mother and therefore distances himself from her, to prevent this from happening, she will sabotage his healthy relationships and his girlfriend ivy at the time was no exception.

damon graduated from NYU and went on to pursue his music career, which didn’t take much to start taking off in america due to his mothers influence and the strings she pulled to get him in the spotlight. she was already incredibly loved and labeled as a legend from her fifteen year reign on Broadway. 

now, damon’s extremely popular and known for his music in america and is growing in popularity in the U.K and Japan. he’s in nottinghill ready to expand his u.k fanbase and appear on his first tour out of the united states. what he doesn’t know yet, is his old girlfriend from back home had been keeping a secret from him. before he left for one of his first tours in america almost three years ago, the two broke up, and she never told him but she was pregnant at the time. now, she’s followed him to nottinghill to finally break the news and get support from his growing fame.