#I LOVE THIS SHOW BUT IT HURTS SO BAD ALL OF THE TIME

[poguehearted77]

Hi!! I've watched the scene where Sarah is starving and Rafe is pacing around and knowing he has cash in his pocket and doesn't care that his sister is starving and pregnant. I can't help but imagine it if it was reader, and they hooked up once twice or however you see fit, and she's pregnant with his baby.

Would it be any different? Could you write something about that? Take the idea and run with it because im bad at articulating 🤣

Oh yeah, Rafe is a class-A asshole, but he might show just a little remorse if the baby is his.

Love the requests, keep sending em' in!!

The Moroccan sun was beating down on the group relentlessly, sweating you out and drying you up with the shine of its bright light. The only reason your sweat wasn't dripping off you was because it was quickly soaked up into the modest fabrics around your head.

You'd been travelling tirelessly for the last few days, dangerously too, if you might add. The boat nearly capsized multiple times just trying to make it to Morocco. As if the boat ride wasn't abhorrent enough with your seasickness....and morning sickness...

The constant smell of saltwater and the rocking of the ship had amplified the awful experience and you would spend the first hour in the bathroom regurgitating your insides every morning. It was not fun.

None of the pogues know you're pregnant. Although, Cleo was on to you. One pregnancy was more than enough for the group to worry about. You figured this was something you'd keep to yourself despite the fact the father is currently trekking with you through the hot sands.

The day was only getting hotter. You're thirsty, your lungs hurt and it felt like your own organs were weighing you down. You naturally began to fall behind the group, little by little until the gap was hard to ignore.

"Come on, Y/n. We're not far from the city, just a few more miles." Pope encouraged but it triggered a laboured breath. You're exhausted. A small smile crept on your lips when you noticed John B holding Sarah's hand the whole time, never letting her out of his sight.

For what feels like the eighth time, Rafe looks over his shoulder, more annoyed than ever. "Jeez, would you hurry it up?" You scoff, mustering up enough energy to kick up some sand at his legs. "Nice. Real mature, Y/n." His sarcasm rolls off his tongue and you ignore him as you walk past him.

Once you finally made it into the city, you all needed something to eat. Sarah wasn't feeling so great and neither were you. Babies are nothing but greedy entities consuming all the nutrients you need.

You leaned against the cool rock wall, watching the others run off to help themselves to a five-finger discount. With your eyes closed, you tried to distract yourself from the ache in your abdomen. Not sure if it was the baby or your hunger, possibly a mix of both.

Without even realizing it, you let a hand rest lightly over your stomach. It was still early, you weren't showing and you thank god.

"We're wasting time!" You hear Rafe yell, it doesn't even faze you. He's somewhere near you when he mumbles to himself, "Sitting around on the streets when we should be going after Groff, unbelievable."

What was supposed to be a quick glance your way turns into an elongated stare. His eyes raked over your posture, your shut eyes, brows crunched in distress. He slowly looks down at the placement of your hand.

"Y/n." He says, tugging you into a corner out of sight from the others and you swat him. He shockingly accepts the reprimands and backs off, taking a step back. "What do you want, Rafe?" Your arms cross, waiting for him to say something.

"Is it mine?" Your arms fall slowly, caught, but you deny it. "I don't know what you're talking about." Hardly able to take two steps away before he's barricading you in the corner with his body.

"Don't bullshit me, Y/n. The baby. Is it mine?" You chew on your lower lip, avoiding his chilling gaze. Apparently, that was enough confirmation. "How long have you known?" He takes on a defensive stance.

How the hell were you supposed to know the answer to that? The last week alone has blurred together in memories of rough waters and dry deserts.

All you knew was it happened sometime between the various times you and Rafe swore it would be the last time you fooled around. Unsure if it was the time on his yacht, in the back of his truck or one of the dozen times you somehow ended up in his bed when you swore you were only in figure eight for a 'walk'.

The group had no idea the two of you had been involved with each other aside from the occasionally tense argument, but anyone could admit the two of you can't seem to stay away from one another.

"I dunno, a month maybe?" He pressed both hands to his forehead, fingers spread wide, and slowly dragged them down, smearing the tension all the way to his chin.

"Let's go." His grip on your hand forces you to follow his long strides between the bustling kiosks until you land inside a Delhi. You're too stuck inside your own mind to process what was happening until you watched Rafe lift the bottom of his shirt, revealing a fanny pack with a considerable amount of money.

"Of course. Of course, you had money this whole time! Of course, you let the others go stealing--!" He hushes you as the owner flashes you a look of concern, "Listen, I'm not the one who told those pogues to go looting. I've got money for more important shit than their sad jewel hunt." He explains, paying for the items with a small nod of gratitude towards the man.

Turning to you, he placed a sandwich in one hand, and a cool bottle of water in the other. "This," He starts, his palm gently resting against your stomach. For the first time in a long time, his brows relax and his gaze softens when he looks at you. "This is more important."

[razrbladekiss]

CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn’t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

[livelaughloveluffy]

idk but I just feel like luffy, ace, sanji (obviously lol) zoro, and law would have a thing for plus size reader, who is sweet and naturally gets along with almost everyone but can also be a bit naive

plus size reader - monster trio, ace, law, and eustass

a/n: thank you so much for the request!!! it's definitely something that has fallen in my inbox before and i would love to write about it because i totally agree that these men would loveeeee plus size women 😌 (i'm 100% biased but shhhhhh lets not talk about that) i definitely took some creative liberty while writing this so i hopefully you enjoy!!

a/n: in typical fanfic writer fashion, i'm like actually so miserably sick right now, i have a really bad cough, my head hurts so bad, i feel super hot, and i can't even take cold medicine because of my antidepressants 😭😭😭 so if i start to not make sense, thats why 😭😭

nothing but fluff here 💗

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monkey d. luffy

-he's such a cuddly baby. luffy will 100% wrap his arms and legs around you, like a little koala, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he just wants all of you, all the time.

-the captain of the straw hats never ceases to amaze you with his strength as he often picks you up with such ease to either hold you close to him, with your legs wrapped around his waist, or to throw you over his shoulder, carrying you around the thousand sunny without a care in the world. luffy typically picks you up when he's extra excited to see you, needing to have you as close as possible. his grip on your body is always so tight, over his dead body would he ever let you fall.

-luffy refuses to believe that you don't see the beauty in yourself. his eyes widen in pure shock when he overhears you talking about your insecurities with nami. since that day, whenever you hear the captain talk about you, it's always with the phrase "the prettiest girl alive", with the widest smile on his face.

-he just can't help but constantly cover you with kisses. luffy is so proud to be able to have you, and he will happily shout from rooftops about his love for you, so shame about pda is absolutely nonexistent. it's a frequent occurrence for the captain to run up to you, smother you in kisses, and then run off to his other shenanigans.

roronoa zoro

_he's so proud to have you. when the two of you are together, he shows you off as if you're the shiniest trophy. his arm tightly intertwined with yours as the two of you hold hands walking the town of a new island. the green-haired boy always wants you as close to him as humanly possible, your bodies are always pressed next to each other, as if you were glued together, when side by side.

-zoro, who can pick you up with ease. when you are hugging him, he'll lift your feet off the ground, arms tight around your waist and spin you, only to then throw you over his shoulder like its nothing, taking you back to his bed. in a similar vein, he also often asks you to help him train, practically begging you to sit or lay on his back as he does hundreds of push-ups with ease. even if you try to protest and say you're too heavy, he'll scoff and pull you in for a tight hug. then picks you up and puts you on his back, making you cross your legs around his waist, and begin his training anyways.

-he's extra protective with you. especially when you two are exploring a new island, his hand is tightly gripping your waist as you walk side by side, and if you ever ask him why he'll turn to you and reply "just need to let everyone know you're mine." with the faintest hint of a growl in his voice. glares at anyone who dares to look your way for too long.

-the swordsman who is infatuated with your love handles. whenever you are just standing somewhere on the sunny, he'll come up behind you and grab your hips, pulling your body back into him. he'll rest his chin on your shoulder and when you ask him what he's doing he'll just reply with a simple "mmm, just missed you." drinking in the closeness of your presence.

black leg sanji

-the way this man is absolutely obsessed with curvier women. sanji constantly tells you how much of a goddess you are "mon amour, you're even more beautiful than aphrodite herself."

-the curly-browed blonde worships you and your body. when you are in only a bra and underwear in front of him, he takes his time to admire the absolute work of art you are. getting on his knees to stare up at you, placing his hands one on each of your thighs, working his way up to your stomach and hips, kissing along where his hands had just been. this becomes a ritual for him. he absolutely refuses to do anything more serious before getting to take his time adoring and worshipping you.

-sanji is constantly reminding you of how beautiful you are. he's saying it loudly, whispering it in your ear, and everything in between. you hear compliments from him a minimum of 100 times a day, and with the way his eyes widen and sparkle, you can tell how much he truly means it.

-he's genuinely heartbroken if he every found out that you didn't like your body or if you feel a bit insecure. sanji's eyes suddenly well up with tears as he explains that it hurts him to the core that you would see yourself so completely opposite to the way he sees you, "you're utterly ethereal, mon cheri. a work of art too perfect for this world." and he'll do anything to prove how much he means it. he'll leave gentle and delicate kisses all over your body and skin for hours, murmuring praises under his breath the entire time.

portgas d. ace

-ace was absolutely loud and proud about how attractive he found you from the very first time he laid his eyes on you. his gravely voice could be heard shouting across the moby dick "lookin' good, gorgeous." with the widest smile.

-the freckled boy will slide his hands up under your shirt, gently moving them up and down your hips and torso. ace has a carnal need to feel your skin, and there's nothing he loves more than getting to rest his hands on your stomach, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and leaving kisses down your neck as he does so.

-he loves to grab your ass. at first, ace tried to be subtle about it, starting by resting his hand on the smalls of your back, and slowly letting it fall lower until he reached your ass, and waiting a little bit before giving it a gentle squeeze. but as time progressed, he got more bold and unabashed about this form of pda, he's totally unbothered by the stares of the other crewmembers of the whitebeard pirates, returning their looks with the smuggest smile you've ever seen.

-ace will never let you forget how stunning you are. whenever he gets the chance, he'll be whispering in your ear about how gorgeous you are, how he's never seen anyone as beautiful as you, how he's so lucky to have you, and many other similar sentiments.

trafalgar water d. law

-like luffy, law is a lot more cuddly with you. often teleporting to stand right behind you, wrapping his arms around the center of your torso, pulling you close into him, his voice whispering in your ear "hi, beautiful." he always has a hand on you, whether it's on your thigh, your back, intertwined with your own hand, he simply can't resist you. the cruelest form of torture to the captain is not being able to touch you.

-praise galore. the captain is always finding subtle ways to praise you, trying to casually slip his compliments in during conversations. law often address you as "beautiful" or "my pretty girl", making it rare to hear your name slip from the law's lips.

-law is also extremely protective over you. his sharp eyes and stinging glare shoots at anyone who looks at you in a way he doesn't agree with. his hand holding onto your waist, pulling you close into him, with your head resting against his shoulder is law's ideal way to walk side by side with you.

eustass captain kid

-he's soooo loud about how attractive he finds you. it's an every day occurrence for you to hear the red-haired captain shout "oi, hot stuff, come bring your fine ass over here!" across the deck of the victoria punk. it's more common for kid to call you "hot stuff" or "doll" than it is for him to use your actual name, to the point that when you hear the captain using your name rather than a pet name, you genuinely think you're in trouble.

-eustass is so touchy. he literally cannot get enough of you, his large metal hand is always grabbing your ass or your hip, with his other hand running all over the side of your body. he's also not above leaving red lipstick stains all over your neck (and chest if you're wearing a top with a lower neckline). he leaves zero room for anyone to question who you're with.

-kid is obsessed with throwing you around, he's constantly picking you up and carrying you around the victoria punk. he'll put you up on his shoulders, loving the way your thighs squeeze around his head. throwing you over his shoulder, metal hand on your ass to make sure you don't slip. holding you by your waist with your legs wrapped around his. it's rare for you to be with eustass and for him to not be carrying you, its like second nature to him. and this man gets so fussy if you want to be put down. softly growling in your ear "make me.." while tightening his grip on you, refusing you to wiggle free from his grasp.

-the red-haired captain is genuinely angry if he hears you, or anyone else, talk poorly about you. nothing pisses him off faster than hearing untrue statements about the love of his life. the piercing glare he'll shoot your way if you start to talk down to yourself could kill. eustass will pull you close to him, whispering in your ear, the slightest hint of a growl in his gruff voice as he says "let me show you just how beautiful you are."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

tags ♡: @3v37773 @twiishaa @dindjarins1ut @thepotatocatto @peachycat17 @irethepotato @dreamcastgirl99; want to join the taglist? click here!

a/n: i really struggled finishing this because it's lowkey hard to think straight with my head pounding but you'll have to pry my laptop out of my cold dead hands if you think i'm going to let being sick stop me from writing some fanfic 😌

a/n: also sorry for cutting law's part a little short, i literally can't look at my computer any longer 💀

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[selineram3421]

*a lot of readers loving this fic* Daaaang.

Hissy Kitty

Part 5

Part 4

Alastor X Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ deer man still trying to stay in denial, blood/gore, Italics= thoughts, partial nudity mention, Bold= time shifts, gif is reader's shadow form. ⚠

Alastor felt like he was at the end of a shotgun barrel.

He froze, his hands shaking slightly and his undead heart thumping rapidly.

Quite a daring thing to say...

Husk stared at him in slight shock and something else. Something that the deer demon couldn't decipher. The two stood still, not moving an inch, just watching who would make the first move. Almost like an old west duel.

Finally, after a long silence, one of them spoke up.

"Leave them alone."

In all honesty, the cat demon had no idea what to do about this...situation, but he knew the Radio Demon. His boss was nothing but a cruel, insane, egotistical man who wanted power and control.

"I don't give a shit about what you do to me, but I know if you hurt me, they'll hate you.", Husk said before turning to leave the radio tower. "Whatever thing you've got? It's best to get rid of it now."

And with that, the feline left.

Now Alastor was alone, just like he wanted but he couldn't get rid of the thought of what the ex Overlord had said.

He couldn't deny it any longer.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before making his way over to his chair.

I'll avoid them like the plague... He decided.

He stayed away for two weeks.

Leaving a room whenever they stepped foot inside, staying in his room, office, or radio tower when he didn't know where they were in the hotel.

And then something snapped.

The thought was screeching in his mind, clawing at his chest, a never ending cycle of want.

He had to-

No.

Needed to tell them.

Maybe confessing would help stop that feeling.

With the last of his sanity, Alastor stepped out of his radio tower and went to search for them with the help of his shadows.

.

You were confused at first by the absence of the red dressed demon but thought nothing of it since your brother seemed happier.

Charlie had given you the new job of welcoming new guests at the front desk but well...its been very boring.

No one checks in.

Like at all. The demons that do come in ask for directions and then there's Cherri Bomb, Angel's friend who stops by for a second or two. So, you spent most of your days talking to your brother at the bar, leaving a "ring the bell for assistance" sign at the check-in counter.

You held a glass of very diluted iced catnip tea, your brother made sure to make it that way so you don't run around the hotel like last time.

"Ugh.", you hid your face in embarrassment.

I can't believe Husk planned that. That jerk! You sighed. I did enjoy the nap after though..

Then your thoughts continued until it wound up to the last conversation you had with your brother about the red dressed demon.

After telling him what happened, Husk stood up real quick and said he'd be right back. Then he came back with snacks and his poker face.

What your brother doesn't know is that you can actually read his poker face. It's very, very faint, but his ears give him away. Depending on the way that it flicks, you can tell how bad a situation is.

And his ear flicked back twice.

Which means he doesn't like the current cards in his hand.

What did he get? You wonder and sip your drink.

Some more time passes and the next time you see Alastor in the same room as you is when the King comes to visit the hotel.

Keekee is in your arms and hops out once Lucifer stops hugging Charlie.

Things take a turn after some random flapper shows up and then there are shark sinners.

"MY WINDOWS!", Nifty screeches in horror.

It goes to shit really quickly, everything is too loud, everyone is running around and trying to stay out of the shooting range of the flaming boulders, and you were overstimulated with all of the things happening at once.

"GET BEHIND THE COUNTER KIT!", Husk grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you towards the bar.

You make a face once seeing the flapper, the reason loan sharks are attacking the hotel, is hiding behind the counter.

"Oh fuck this.", you sigh and walk away.

No wonder your brother said not to come here.

Its too loud..

The banging on the door didn't stop until the Radio Demon stepped out and the screams took over.

Too loud.

"I will devour each and every one of you!"

You covered your ears in pain, wishing you brought your headset.

"ITS TOO FUCKING LOUD!", you yell out.

.

Alastor reminisces when these feelings solidified.

It was when Lucifer and Mimzy showed up at the hotel. He had his fun messing around with the King, making the short blonde feel jealous.

Then Mimzy barged in, which is not a surprise, and started chatting up with the others.

What annoyed him was when Husk mentioned the deal that he, the Radio Demon, had made. Reminding him that he too needed to stay within range so his collar didn't choke his neck.

Then after taking care of Husk, he made his way downstairs to take care of Mimzy's mess.

And that's when it happened.

As he was ripping apart some of the loan sharks, he heard screaming from inside the hotel. Turning to deal with the ones that managed to slip past him, he finds a shadow creature with multiple eyes dragging the left over sharks into the darkness.

"NO! No, no, no, no, no! AH-!", a shark screamed before the shadow tore open his stomach and ripped out his intestines.

"Kit! You gotta calm down!", Husk yelled out.

"That's your little sibling!?", Angel screeched. "What the fuck happened!?"

"It was too damn loud, that's what happened!"

The two continued to bicker as they tried to move the shadow out of the hotel.

A piece of rubble fell and Mimzy side stepped away from it. "Oops. Sorry about the mess. I'm sure the little bug can handle it."

"Mimzy.", Alastor went back to his normal size and made his way towards the hotel. "I believe it's time for you to leave. Now."

"What-? Come on, you don't mean that~", the flapper laughs. "This dump doesn't mean anything to ya! And you love taking care of me!"

"I can't have you making a mess here.", he replied. "You can stay if you want to be redeemed.", he turned to look back at the short woman. "But we both know that's not your style."

"Fine! I don't need you! Have fun at this ritzy dump and-!"

Alastor ignored the rest and walked into the hotel lobby. Husk was the only one taking care of the shadow beast, while Angel was watching whatever was going on between the two royals with the others.

"It's ok now, calm down.", the cat demon said to the shadow in the corner.

"What or who is this?", the deer demon asks and points to the shadow creature.

"Pretty sure you ain't deaf, you heard Angel yell it out.", Husk said and started..purring?

"My! I didn't know you could make such an adorable sound!", he grinned.

"Shut up!", the cat hissed quietly. "They need to calm down, loud noises only make it worse!"

"Well, why didn't you say that sooner?"

With a snap of his fingers, he teleported the three of them into his room in the greenery area.

"The only sounds in here are nature, will this do?", Alastor asked.

"Yes, this is fine.", Husk nodded before getting focused, and pulled the shadow closer. "Kit? Listen. You're ok now.", he said and started purring again.

Their shadow figure was still too large, so the radio demon decided to add in some of his white noise static, earning a look from Husker.

"It helps.", was all he said.

Slowly but surely, the shadow got smaller and smaller before going back into a familiar figure. The darkness on their form began to fade away, starting from the tips of their feet/paws.

Before the shadow fully receded, Husk held out his hand.

"Give me a blanket or somethin'."

"Whatever for?", he asked with a raised brow.

"You wanna see them naked?"

Alastor quickly took off his coat and handed it over.

In a quick motion, the cat demon covered his sibling in the red fabric and wrapped an arm around their shoulders, holding them securely as they passed out.

A few moments passed before the demon in red decided to ask his question.

"What exactly happened?"

Husk was quiet for a bit and then sighed.

"I'll let them tell you."

Now, Alastor stood in front of your hotel room.

He felt like it was as if it was his first broadcast all over again. His nerves were all over the place and his hands felt tingly.

Clearing his throat, he prepared himself and knocked on their door.

"Dear? Are you there? There is something I wish to discuss with you."

A few heartbeats later, the door opens.

"Come in."

*flops over* I'm done for now. Stay tuned.

~Seline, the person.

Part 6

Taglist@

*In comments because there are SO many*

ML I for Alastor🎙️ | HK ChL😾

[marril96]

Safe Haven

Chapter 1: Guilty as Sin

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it's up to you to help her.

To say you and Agatha had parted on bad terms would be an understatement of the century.

You'd forgiven her a lot of things, and could forgive so much more, but the one thing you just couldn't get past was her forgetting your anniversary because she was too busy draining some random witch that wasn't even powerful enough to justify leaving you hanging.

You'd exploded. It was like someone had pulled a switch, and an atomic bomb had gone off, turning everything in its path to dust. You'd unleashed all the things you'd been holding back; centuries of pent up rage, of resentment pouring out of your mouth. Raging and burning. Stinging its target's flesh like lava dripping on skin.

Things you couldn't believe could ever come out of your mouth shot out, bitter, venomous. Bullets aiming for the heart.

You'd called Agatha selfish. Had accused her of not caring about you, of valuing power over you. Had said she'd never loved you, and, if she'd thought she had, you'd certainly never felt it. Had told her other witches were right to have never trusted her for not an ounce of her was worthy of being trusted.

"I can't look at you right now. I don't wanna look at you," were your final words before you'd summoned your magic and had taken off for the sky. Far, far away from her.

It wasn't exactly a breakup. The two of you had had periods of separation throughout the centuries, usually brought on by one of you wanting to travel and the other preferring to cozy up somewhere for a few months. In the end, you would always find your way back to each other. The few times you had parted on bad terms, you were back in each other's arms within days.

You could never stay apart for too long.

Until now.

Three months and counting. No calls. No texts. Both of you were too stubborn, too proud to pick up the phone and make the first move.

Not that it would do much.

You doubted there was coming back from this fight.

If someone had said those things to you, you wouldn't want to see their face, either. Not for a very long time. Possibly not ever again.

You didn't even mean what you'd said. You were just so angry, and Agatha had made a mistake, and you'd wanted to punish her. You'd wanted to hurt her. You'd wanted her to feel how you were feeling. Wanted her to feel worse. You'd wanted to shove a knife in her gut and twist it.

What you'd actually done was aim for the heart and shatter it until it was nothing but specks of dirt under your feet.

Every day since that fateful night had been hell.

You weren't sure how you were able to survive; guilt had been eating you alive, bit by fleshy bit. The words you'd said echoed in your head. Had kept you up at night. Had brought tears to your eyes every time you'd replayed them.

Agatha was no angel, far from it, but she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve a fraction of the venom you'd spewed in her face.

Maybe that had been a breakup, after all.

You didn't see her forgiving you that kind of cruelty.

You certainly would never forgive yourself.

Loud banging shook you back to the present, to your lonesome reality. Someone — something — was at your front door, insistent, desperate to get inside. The hinges squeaked under the force of the blows.

Blood ran cold in your veins.

You lived in the middle of nowhere; a deliberate choice, as your kind historically didn't fare well among people. Or each other. Experience had taught you that witches could be as treacherous as humans, even more so. Miles and miles of trees surrounded your home, cocooning it, shielding it. Hiding it and you from the world.

Who could possibly be at your door this late in the evening?

A lost or injured hiker? A runaway kid seeking help?

Someone who meant you harm?

The prospect didn't worry you too much; you'd made sure the entrance to your home was spelled so that nobody and nothing could get in without your explicit permission. Hunters and rogue witches, as well as regular, run of the mill thieves, had raided too many spaces you'd thought were safe over the centuries.

When you'd acquired this house, you were determined it was never going to happen again.

It was Agatha who had suggested protection like that. She knew how much it meant to you to have a place to call yours, to call a home, so she'd flipped through the pages of that dark magic book of hers that you weren't allowed to come near (with good reason: you'd avoided that thing like the plague) and had found a spell that would protect you from unwanted guests 

It had worked wonders so far.

Still, as you cautiously padded to the door, one of your hands lit up with magic; a witch could never be too careful. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, then wide as your eyes fell upon the familiar dark brown hair.

Agatha.

Your heart raced, first with excitement at seeing her again, then with concern as the condition she was in settled in.

Her clothes were ripped. Her hair was a mess, as if she hadn't brushed it in days. Blood ran down her mouth, down her chapped lips. Deep, purple bruises marred her face, painted it dark and painful.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, in disbelief at the sight before you. This had to have been some kind of an illusion. The Agatha you knew could never get hurt like this. No matter what the situation was, she would find her feet. She would never allow for it to get this far.

Her power was too grand for even a remote possibility of something like this.

Then why was she standing at your door, bruised and bloody?

Why was she shivering?

Why did she look so fucking scared that it broke your heart all over again, as your own cruel words had the night that you'd abandoned her?

"Y/N, please, let me in," she said. There was no usual snark in her tone, no humor. No playfulness that you'd come to miss in the months since you'd last seen her. Her voice was strained, as if it hurt to talk. As if it was taking the last remnants of the strength she had left to push the words out. "Please." There was a pause, a pained one, then she said, completely and utterly weak, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

She didn't even have to ask.

"Come here," you said, reaching for her. It was an instinct you'd grown into over the centuries of being with her. When she needed you — when she was cold or sad or injured — you were at her side with arms wide open. No questions asked. No demands made. All that mattered was getting her well. Making the pain she was in go away.

Hands on her shoulders, you gently coaxed her inside, and then locked the door behind her.

She didn't have to ask to be let in. Didn't have to cower and beg for mercy.

Even with the protection spell, Agatha had been welcome here from the very start. This was her home as much as it was yours. No matter how angry you were at her, you would never deny her access. Had never denied it.

What you had done, you remembered, chills running down your spine like ants, was tell her you couldn't look at her.

Was that why she was in this condition? Did she think you wouldn't help her if she called? Did she think you didn't care about her anymore — that you didn't care whether she lived or died?

Did she think you would slam the door in her face and leave her to tend to herself?

Swallowing the guilt that pressed on your chest like an ill-fitted corset, you helped Agatha to the couch. She walked with a limp, one hand pressed to her side, each breath she took a labor, a chore. Whoever had harmed her had done a number on her.

You'd seen her lose fights before. You'd seen her beg for mercy. But it had never been this bad. Not even close.

Whoever had done this to her had better leave the country, had better leave the fucking planet if they wanted to live for another day. Once you found them, they would wish they were dead.

That was a promise, and you always kept those when it came to Agatha.

"Is this okay?" you asked. "Do you need a blanket, or a pillow, or—"

"It's fine," she said, taking a few breaths to steady herself, each more painful than the other.

It shattered your heart into a million pieces.

She didn't deserve this. No matter what she did or whom she managed to piss off, she didn't deserve to be in this kind of pain.

As tenderly as you could, you laid your hands over hers. Agatha stiffened, startled, confirming your suspicions — she didn't think you care about her, not after the things you'd said.

All the witches in her life had ended up betraying her, turning their backs on her, abandoning her. It was only natural that you would do the same.

It was only life.

She didn't know anything different, anything better.

And you, the asshole that you were, had poured salt over the wound.

You'd told her she'd deserved it.

"It's okay," you said softly, caressing her hands. Letting her know that she was safe, that the danger had passed. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

But you had, hadn't you? You'd promised you would never, but you'd done what everyone else had. You'd turned your back on her. You'd spewed the vilest things you could think of, things you didn't even mean, to hurt her, all because you were hurt and had wanted her to feel the same — had wanted her to feel worse. You'd thrown her mistakes in her face, and had left her. You'd never looked back. And, no matter how much the guilt was eating you up, niggling at your insides like acid, you didn't have the nerve to apologize, to make it right.

You were no better than her coven. Than her bitch of a mother.

Agatha nodded, then lowered her eyes to her lap, to her dirty, bloodied clothes. Everywhere and anywhere but your face.

She might as well have slapped you.

Not that you wouldn't have deserved it.

"Who did this to you?" you asked, trying your hardest to hold back an explosion that threatened to erupt inside you.

You couldn't hurt yourself, not much more than you already have, but you could make sure that the one who'd done this to her paid with their life.

They'd been living on borrowed time since the second they'd decided to lay their hands on her.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Hunters." She spit the word like it was poison, like the mere act of saying it befouled her mouth. "They injected me with something that's been blocking my power."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "A drug of some sort?"

"Try potion."

Now that was interesting. "They're working with a witch?"

Agatha nodded. "A powerful one. It's been two days, and this thing's still alive and kicking."

"Two days?"

They'd had her for two days?

They'd been hitting her, beating her, torturing her for two days?

A few tears escaped your containment, your cheeks burning in their wake.

"Oh, please, it's nothing I can't take. I could go for two more weeks," Agatha said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. Acting as if what she'd gone through didn't bother her a single bit.

You knew better.

That smile on her mouth was the same one she always hid behind. The one she used when she wanted to hide the pain, the turmoil, despite knowing damn well it didn't fool you. It never did.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry," you said, on the brink of falling apart.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

That was the problem.

You didn't do anything.

She was tortured for two days, and you were none the wiser.

"I should've been there."

You would have burned those monsters alive. You would've made them beg for mercy, given them hope that it would come, and then you would've taken it away at the last minute. You would've made the punishment fit the crime.

You would do it.

They had no idea what was coming to them.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Save your pity."

"It's not pity, and you know it," you told her in your most earnest tone. She had no reason to believe you — you'd certainly given her plenty of reasons not to — but you hoped she would find it in her heart to look past that. To give you the smallest benefit of the doubt, a chance to make what you broke whole again.

"Isn't it?" It was her turn to twist the knife, and she knew how to make it hurt without trying too hard.

You deserved it.

As much as it hurt, as much as it bruised and broke you, you had every word of doubt coming.

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat, welcoming the pain. Accepting it as penance. "No."

Standing up on shaky legs, you walked to the adjoining kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards in search of supplies. You didn't have a first aid kit, so a makeshift one would have to do. Some old bandages, a rag, a bowl of warm water. Simple, yet efficient.

Agatha could think what she wanted — she could think the worst of you, and she certainly had that right — but you would still help her. You would still do your best for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting supplies," you said, picking up the softest rag you had. "We need to get you cleaned up."

A moment of tense silence passed. "I can do it myself."

You looked her in the eyes like you always did when she was being difficult. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she said stubbornly.

If she didn't, she wouldn't have shown up at your door and begged to be let in. She wouldn't have let you hold her hands.

"Agatha," you said with a sigh. Don't do this, you thought. Don't play these games. Not now.

"You don't have to pretend you want me here. I'm only here because I had nowhere else to go," she reiterated.

"I'm not pretending."

"Aren't you? You made it pretty clear you didn't wanna look at me." Her eyes, so blue and sad, filled with tears. Her injured lips trembled. "I'm selfish, remember? I never loved you. I'm not trustworthy. I deserve everything that's ever happened to me. I deserve this."

"No. No, you don't."

But you did. You deserved to have your words thrown back at you. You deserved every jab, every painful poke.

You laid the bowl on the coffee table and sat back down by Agatha's side. "I know I'll never be able to take back all those horrible things I said. For what it's worth, I didn't mean any of it."

"Why'd you say it, then?" Agatha asked pointedly. No pleasantries. No nonsense.

"Because I was pissed, and I wanted to hurt you." It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud, but you owed it to her to be honest. She deserved to know the truth. "All this time, I've been trying to think of ways to apologize. Nothing seemed good enough. You deserve better, and I just couldn't give it to you. So, I left you alone."

You reached for her hand. Momentary relief flooded your veins as she allowed you to twine your fingers with hers. This time she welcomed your touch. Welcomed you.

"I really am sorry," you said. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't. I just ask that you let me try to make up for it."

Agatha swallowed. Her eyes fell to your linked hands. You thought she would push you away. That she would tell you where you can shove your apology. That she would tell you that it was too late — she didn't love you anymore. That she wanted nothing to do with you.

Instead, her fingers squeezed yours.

A tiny, silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could.

She hadn't given up on you.

She was willing to give you a chance.

She still loved you.

Just like that, a spark lit up inside you. A sliver of hope, tiny but still there, bright in the turmoil of your mind.

It was more than you could have asked for.

You promised to yourself — to Agatha — that you wouldn't squander it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

[portalhan]

*ೃ 10:03

↳ your favourite pastime is teasing your boyfriend. it just so happens that his is making you laugh...

PAIRING: seo changbin x gn!reader ^__^

GENRE: fluff, established relationship

WARNINGS: n/a... bad breath idk

FAE'S NOTES: WE ARE SO BACKKKKK!!!!! CHANGBIN BICEP LOVERS CAN I GET A BOOYAH!!!!!!!

"your breath reeks."

changbin's face contorts as soon as he hears you say those three words. the corners of his lips slowly begin to turn downwards into a scoul, his already puffy eyes squinted as he stares daggers into you.

you watch intently as he shows you the face, your own just inches away. in stark contrast, you light up like a firework – your eyes turning into little crescent moons, your hearty laugh filling the bedroom. you couldn't contain your laughter any longer, and changbin is visibly annoyed. he feels your shoulders shake as they rest above his bicep, cheeks flushed, your hair getting all up in his face as you are both laying on the bed, in the same cuddle you were in from the night before.

he keeps his silence as you continue to let more waves of laughter roll through you, and watches you intently. how could he ever stay mad at you when you look so happy?

"you get sulky so easily!" you finally manage to tell him between chuckles, your tummy starting to feel like it's getting wrapped in a knot from all the laughing. changbin loves when you dote on him, so he pouts extra hard when he noticed you were beginning to calm down (he just wants you to tell him he's cute). your face is still lit up like a bulb when you finally stop and reach out to pinch his cheek, which makes him drop the act just as quickly as it began.

"hmph," changbin shrugs and spins his head around, but you spot the tiniest smirk on his face. his head is faced entirely away from you as he says, "you're so ungrateful. this is what i get for giving my baby a kiss first thing in the morning...hmph!"

you double over again, somehow laughing even harder than before. changbin snaps his head back at you with incredulous speed, mouth agape and eyes wide in a fit of faux shock and offense. you just laugh even harder. changbin swipes his arm back from under your back in retaliation, causing you to make an abrupt landing back onto the mattress.

"ow!" your turn to grumble this time, he just chuckles. "that hurt."

"no it didn't," he confidently says with a chirp in his tone almost, arms reaching to scoop you back into his warm embrace. changbin is satisfied. "you're being dramatic."

you hum with joy and relief from cuddling again – mornings are getting so much colder now and changbin is just toasty – and give your boyfriend his favourite kiss. a loud smooch on each cheek and then his lips. you both know you're going to have to get up eventually, but this is one of those moments you pray you could live in for just a little while longer.

[sweettoothy]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

NOTE: short chapter ? (If you guys have any questions head to my inbox ^^, and I all know we wanna see a sex scene where they’re bumping against each others clits, and scissoring, It’ll happen soon trust me)

⟣・S2・WATCH IT ALL BURN︰

YOU WALK INTO a pretty battered up place, a hand on your hip as you walked next to caitlyn. you were still a little injured from yesterday but that’s okay, the green smoke was clouding your goggles that were attached to your face, causing a frustrated sigh to escape you. the rest of the enforcers including you, were searching for jinx after the incident that had happened.

It wasn’t just an incident, it was a pretty big one, cause caitlyn’s mom got caught in the crossfire. least to say it wasn’t surprising that caitlyn was on the verge of losing it, but she was holding her composure the best she could.

Not to mention you getting hurt was one of her biggest regrets, she wish she could’ve protected you more— but things happen.

Vi checks over her shoulder from time to time to make sure you’re alright, she doesn’t want you getting caught in her sister’s bullshit. It was pretty scary being here, if you were truthful.

You never met jinx but you’ve heard so many good and bad things about her. Honestly, none of it seemed to make sense anymore. She just sounded like a broken person overall, someone who just needed help.

Jinx was hiding somewhere near the ceiling, she could see you, caitlyn, and vi. her pink colored eyes landing on you as she raised her gun slightly, she wondered what it would be like if vi were to lose the most precious thing she’s had in her life— due to being in jail for long 7 years.

You and caitlyn really switched vi’s life around, even though right now she didn’t like having to be an enforcer. But if it was to stop her sister? It was the right thing to do, it has to stop at some point.

Jinx hand starts to shake as tears prick her eyes, she leans back and hides behind a wall— not bothering to take the shot.

She’s just hated what her sisters become, so lovestruck on you and out to get her— it wasn’t fair.

You flinch slightly when music suddenly comes on, making you step back quickly.

“It’s okay, (name).” Maddie tells you, placing her hand on your shoulder. “No one’s there.”

Caitlyn’s eye twitched when she saw the way maddie had placed her hand on your shoulder, her lips upturning into a frown as she grew a little annoyed— maddie always used the sweet act with you just to get close.

And it pissed off vi and cait.

YOU HAD TO take a minute to catch your breath as you leaned against the wall, collapsing to your knees as you lift up your top underneath your shirt, the gash still there from the time you had gotten injured after the explosion. Vi and caitlyn make their way towards you, their expressions full of worry and concern.

“Are you okay, love?” Caitlyn asks as she kneels to your level, the height difference between you three very visible. Cait being taller than vi and vi being taller than you. that was so cute.

Vi tucks some of your hair behind your ear as she rubs her thumb over your cheek, “we can take you back. you didn’t have to come with us.” she tells you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“No, no,” You reply. “I want to help. I’m tired of lying in bed doing nothing.”

Caitlyn knows it wasn’t the best time to be taking at look at your boobs but they were so round and pretty she just wanted to put her hand over it and squeeze them in her possession. If only her thoughts weren’t so vivid right now, she probably would be dead set on getting revenge on jinx which—of course—she still is.

Vi reaches to grab the curvy part of your waist, her hand easily squeezing there gently. “Okay. but if you feel sick let us know.”

“I’m okay, guys, seriously.” You tell them, “I can handle myself.”

“If you’re sure.” Caitlyn replies, trying to keep her dirty thoughts away.

If they were out of sight, they’d be out of mind. right?

Wrong!

Vi couldn’t help but take a look at your chest again, oh this felt so wrong and disrespectful but it felt so good at the same time. when she first met you, she already knew she would take a liking to you.

The thought of being between your legs right now and wanting to hear you whimper was not what she had in mind but she wanted it to happen, she craved it to happen.

Standing up you dust yourself off, “okay-- let’s go get the others. I think I know a route.”

“After you sweets.” Vi replies softly, dusting herself off.

Caitlyn stood up as well, vi taking a long look at your ass before quickly adverting her gaze.

They do not know how long they’re gonna last.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

[dissapointu]

Can you do something with the arcane characters (more specifically Viktor but id like to see how others would be too if thats okay with you ofc) and how they would be ice skating/ice skating with reader. Thank youuu!

Uuuaghfhdshsisn such a cute ask!

Viktor

Viktor wasn’t thrilled about the idea of ice skating. His cane wasn’t exactly built for gliding across frozen water, but the way your eyes lit up at the rink softened his resistance. “If I fall, you’re catching me,” he warned, stepping gingerly onto the ice.

You stayed close, holding his arm as he wobbled. Despite his initial hesitance, Viktor found himself smiling, especially when you cheered for him after a single, ungraceful loop around the rink. “Maybe this isn’t so bad,” he murmured, watching you glide effortlessly ahead of him.

But the moment he tried to speed up, his feet slipped out from under him. You burst into laughter, skating back to help him up. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked, shaking his head but laughing along with you.

“Absolutely,” you said, taking his hands. “Let’s go again.”

Jinx

Jinx was a whirlwind on the ice. From the moment you laced up your skates, she was already darting around, almost crashing into everyone in her path. “Catch me if you can!” she yelled, zipping past you.

You hesitated at first but gave chase, laughing as she swerved and spun to evade you. When you finally caught her, both of you tumbled into a pile on the ice. She cackled, her cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Think you can outskate me? Not a chance, sugar,” she teased, pulling you back up for another round.

Vi

Vi acted like she was too cool for ice skating but secretly loved it. She steadied you as you both stepped onto the rink, smirking when you clung to her arm. “Relax, I got you,” she said, guiding you along

After a few laps, you found your footing, and Vi couldn’t resist showing off. “Watch this!” she said, attempting a spin. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to impress you.

When you challenged her to a race, she grinned. “You’re on, but don’t cry when I leave you in the dust,” she joked, taking off with you close behind.

Sevika

Sevika had no interest in ice skating at first but gave in when you insisted. “Fine, but if I break something, it’s on you,” she grumbled. On the ice, she was surprisingly steady, her strength and balance keeping her upright.

You teased her for being better than expected, and she shrugged. “Takes more than some slippery ice to take me down,” she said, smirking.

When you started to slip, she caught you with her robotic arm, pulling you close. “Careful,” she muttered, her tone soft. “Can’t have you getting hurt.”

Silco

Silco on ice skates was a rare sight. He only agreed because you promised it would be “fun.” He moved cautiously, his usual grace compromised by the ice.

“Stop laughing,” he said dryly as you glided circles around him.

“Come on, Silco, loosen up!” you encouraged, grabbing his hands.

After a while, he found his rhythm, his confidence returning. By the end of the night, he even attempted a slow dance with you on the ice, his reserved smile making the whole experience worth it.

Vander

Vander was a natural on the ice, his strength and steady demeanor making him a great skating partner. He held your hand as you found your balance, his warm laugh easing your nerves.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his deep voice a comforting presence.

When you suggested skating together, he lifted you effortlessly, spinning you around before setting you back down. “See? Nothing to it,” he said, grinning as you laughed in delight.

Ekko

Ekko was all energy on the ice, weaving through the crowd with ease. “Come on, firebug, keep up!” he called, skating backward to face you.

You tried to match his pace but ended up slipping. Ekko caught you just in time, his arms wrapping around you to keep you steady. “Gotcha,” he said with a wink.

He spent the rest of the session teaching you tricks, his enthusiasm contagious. By the end of the night, you were laughing and racing each other like pros.

Jayce

Jayce was overly confident at first, claiming he’d be the “king of the rink.” That confidence faded the moment he wobbled onto the ice.

You couldn’t stop laughing as he clung to the edge. “Don’t just stand there—help me!” he said, reaching for your hand.

Once he got the hang of it, he was unstoppable, showing off and trying to impress you. “I told you I’d get the hang of it!” he said, beaming as he pulled you into a spin.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn was graceful on the ice, moving as if she’d been skating her whole life. She held your hand, guiding you through the basics with patience and encouragement.

“You’re a quick learner,” she said, her smile warm.

When you finally managed to skate on your own, she clapped, clearly proud. “I think you’re ready for a race,” she teased, challenging you to a friendly competition around the rink.

Mel Medarda

Mel exuded elegance, even on the ice. She took your hand, leading you with effortless grace. “Relax, darling,” she said, her voice soothing.

She enjoyed showing off, performing spins and gliding effortlessly. When you asked for tips, she smiled. “It’s all about confidence,” she said, pulling you close.

Dancing on the ice with her felt like a dream, her refined presence making every moment magical.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa’s strength and determination made her a natural skater. She was your rock, steady and dependable as you learned the ropes.

“You’re doing well,” she said, her tone encouraging.

When you stumbled, she caught you easily, lifting you back up without effort. “See? No reason to fear,” she said, her smile reassuring.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie turned ice skating into a playful competition, challenging you to races and tricks. “Loser buys dinner!” she teased, darting ahead

Her energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but laugh as she showed off her skills. When you finally caught up to her, she grinned. “Not bad, but I’m still the best.”

Lest

Lest was hesitant at first, her feline instincts making her wary of the slippery surface. But with your encouragement, she gave it a try.

She moved cautiously, her tail flicking with every step. “This is… strange,” she admitted, but your laughter eased her nerves.

By the end of the night, she was gliding alongside you, her confidence growing with each lap. “Perhaps this isn’t so bad,” she said, her smile soft and genuine.

[deadjaywalking]

I headcannon him to be like my dad in so many ways. He struggles with words, because words don't mean shit, but loves to show you he loves you with his actions. He loves to use pet names for his kids and gets sad when he realizes they are growing up and can't sit on his lap comfortably. When he is in a terrible bad mood and one of his kids start annoying him he smiles because at least he has them. If he sees any of them cry he will tell them "don't cry", because he hates to see them sad but doesn't know to be actually comforting. It physically hurts him to see his kids sad. If they feel bad he will say "don't feel bad" (this is word for word what my dad used to tell me btw). It's not that he doesn't want them to show their emotions, he just doesn't want them to feel pain and just tell them not to feel it. They understand this is as bury your pain, but he means for them to be happy instead.

He doesn't like hugging a lot or saying "I love you" more than once every few days, so Dick used to do it all the time to annoy him. This made Bruce come up with a rule, Dick couldn't tell him he loved him more than once a day and hug him more than twice a day. Dick never respected this rule, Bruce was annoyed, but happy.

He would yap about his interests to his kids and disguised it as important life information (and it actually was) and would get angry when they didn't pay attention. Even if they were kids.

This are all the happy headcannons I can think of. If anyone wants the sad ones I'm sure I have even more.

Hey guys I'm like violently depressed can you send me some Bruce Wayne headcanons to make me feel better. Please.

[kawoala]

⁝ IWAIZUMI HAJIME 𝜗𝜚 boxer! iwaizumi 𝜗𝜚

ᰔ word count ; 989

ᰔ content warning ; profanity 、 angst 、 boxer! iwaizumi 、 fighting 、 bad people (not explicitly said, but gangsters, mobsters, mafia, etc in mind) 、 regret.

“what the hell are you doing here?”

a chill runs through your body as the voice floats through the air, miraculously hitting your ears over the noise of the crowd. you don’t want to turn around - you can’t turn around. your feet are cemented to the ground, held there by the pure fear running through your body.

pure fear might be an overstatement. iwaizumi would never hurt you - you know that. he’s really a sweetheart, but you know he’s going to be indescribably angry at you for showing up. this was his one thing.

at the beginning of your relationship, you had both stated your “one thing that the other could not do. obviously, you had said no cheating. you figured that he would say the same, but then he opened a can of worms by saying, “you can’t ever come watch me box.”

you hadn’t even known he was a boxer. sure, he constantly has bruises all over his body, but you assumed it was from working out. the guy was buff.

you take a shaky deep breath, mustering up every bit of courage you have, and turn on your heel. you’re met with a bare chest, glistening in sweat. you stare at it for a moment before tilting your head up to meet his eyes, squeaking quietly when you realize he’s glaring at you.

his face is all messed up - busted lip, bloody nose, a bruise that looks green to be brand new. you frown slightly at the view. you loved watching him fight - watching him win - just a moment ago, but you’ve never liked the aftermath.

“haji!” you breathe out, laughing awkwardly. “before you say anything-” his jaw ticks. “-i’m sorry. i know you told me not to come, but-” you sigh, and wrap your arms around yourself. “you love doing this, and i love you, and i just want to be involved with the things you love. i- i’m sorry.”

he’s still for a moment, eyes still narrowed at you, but his jaw relaxes a bit. eventually, he exhales heavily out of his nose, glancing around before he grabs your arm - careful not to hurt you - and drags you through the crowd. he’s going so fast you barely have time to apologize to the people you run into.

though, judging by the people here, you’re sure they’re used to it by now.

you end up in a room that reminds you of your high schools old locker room - the ones you used to sneak away with hajime to make out in. there are lockers lining it, benches sat in front of each set of lockers. he sets you down on one of the benches and stands in front of you, arms crossed.

and then it’s quiet again.

“hajime-“

“stop,” he cuts you off. “this was my one thing, y/n. i told you not to come here- i shouldn’t have even told you that i did this shit. jesus christ.” he runs a hand through his hair. “you’re so- this was really fucking stupid. do you know how dangerous these people are? you could get killed just for laughing at the wrong thing.”

you look down at your hands and sigh, waiting for him to continue. he doesn’t, though, and it's quiet again for a long moment. he takes a few steps forward, stopping right in front of you. he puts a hand under your chin and lifts your head so that you’re looking at him.

“i love you,” he says quietly, letting out a breath. “i love you and- and i can’t have you showing up here anymore, okay? my handler will-” he stops, pressing his lips together. he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “you can’t come again. promise me, y/n. promise me you won’t come again.”

this time, you press your lips together. you know how much this means to him - you know how much you mean to him. but you’re a grown woman. “why not?” you ask. “i can take care of myself. i- i took care of myself tonight, didn’t i? i’m grown, haji, i can deal with whatever-”

“no, you can’t.” he cuts you off with a firm voice, shaking his head. “these people-” he laughs breathily. “these people are fucking psychopaths.”

“and you’re not?” you inquire, standing up. you barely reach his nose, but the look on your face gets your point across. “what makes you different from all the other people here, hm? what makes you normal compared to these ‘psychopaths’?”

you regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth. a look of hurt flashes across his face for a millisecond, but then his jaw hardens and he furrows his brows. “i’m done with this conversation,” he says, shaking his head. “you’re leaving. now.”

he grabs your arm once more and takes a step, but you pull your arm away. “i’m not leaving, hajime.” your voice shakes as you speak. “i- i know that this was your one thing, but i just wanted-”

“y/n.”

“are you ever gonna let me finish a fucking sentence?” you exclaim, brows raising. “i mean, fuck, hajime. i just wanted to see you fight! i wanted to see you do the one thing you love more than me!”

your voice echoes off the walls of the locker room. once again, it’s quiet - save for the crowd cheering outside. you’re staring at the top of hajime’s head - he’d looked down after you’d stopped yelling. you don’t know what's going through his mind - you feel like you never do.

eventually, you break the silence with a sigh. “just…” you shake your head, hugging your arms around yourself. “i’ll see you at home, okay? drive safe.”

he doesn’t try to stop you as you walk out of the room. he doesn’t follow you as you make your way through the crowd. and he doesn’t come home that night, either.

[liviawildrose]

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

it’s a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes, you’ve got to step into a role you never signed up for. maybe your mom wasn’t the nurturing, protective figure she was supposed to be. maybe your dad let you down in ways that left scars. maybe your friends only stuck around to take, never to give. the truth? you can’t wait for someone to come and save you. you have to become your own mother.

ask yourself:

if your child was in your shoes—stuck in a bad relationship, getting treated like crap— would you tell them, “stay”? or would you say, “you deserve better than this”?

if your child was chasing their dreams but struggling, would you mock them? no. you’d guide them, push them to be their best. you’d discipline them with love and cheer them on with pride. now, apply that same energy to yourself.

be that mom who says: “get your shit together because you deserve the best life possible.”

but also the mom who says: “it’s okay to rest, i’ve got your back, and i’m proud of you.”

start showing up for yourself the way you needed someone to show up for you. and yes, it’s sad. sad that we even have to do this. but it’s also empowering to realize you can.

personally, here’s my story.

my mom never cared to take my pictures as a kid nor cared if a haircut made me happy or not, it was literally everything up to her convenience. it hurts now because i would’ve loved to look back and see those memories. but i don’t have them. i can count the photos of my childhood—20 pictures in 17 years. insane, right? so, i made a promise to myself: from now on, i will document my life. i won’t delete my photos. i’ll make sure there’s a record of who i was, what i felt, what i achieved. and when i have kids? you bet i’ll take pictures of them. i’ll curate their childhood with care because i know what it feels like to not have that.

but being your own mother isn’t just about the pictures or the memories. it’s about analyzing everything you missed out on and providing it for yourself now. it’s about being selfless enough to let go of bad habits that hold you back. it’s about kicking toxic people out of your life the way a mom would protect her child from bad influences. it’s about prioritizing your healing, even if it’s messy and uncomfortable. you have to heal your inner child. that 5-year-old who was bullied, that 13-year-old who was treated like shit in her first relationship, that 7-year-old who dreamed big but was told she couldn’t they’re all still inside you, waiting for someone to nurture them. and unfortunately, no one else is going to do it for you. no one else is going to come and fix the damage.

i made a pact with myself: when i have kids, i will raise them so well that they won’t ever need to “heal their inner child” at 17 or 18. they’ll be whole. they’ll be loved. they’ll know their worth from the start. but for now, i’m doing that for myself. and you need to do it for yourself too. because at the end of the day, the only way to heal is to become the person you needed all along. become your own mother.

what is the inner child?

the “inner child” is the part of you that holds your early experiences, memories, and emotions. it’s the 5-year-old you who loved to laugh but was scolded for being “too much.” it’s the 10-year-old you who dreamed big but felt dismissed. it’s the teen you who felt heartbreak for the first time but didn’t know how to process it. your inner child carries the wounds, fears, and unmet needs from your past, but also your natural creativity, curiosity, and joy. healing your inner child means reconnecting with this version of yourself, giving it the love and understanding it never received, and releasing the pain it has carried for years.

how do you heal your inner child?

1. journaling: dialogue with your inner child

dedicate a journal specifically to your inner child. write letters to them, like:

“dear [your name at 5/7/13], i remember when you felt [insert memory]. i’m sorry you went through that, but i’m here now, and i’ve got you.”

let your inner child respond. write as if you’re that younger version of yourself—pour out your fears, dreams, and questions. this process can uncover emotions and patterns you didn’t realize were affecting you.

2. therapy: safe exploration with a professional

a therapist (especially one trained in inner child work) can help you identify wounds and patterns from childhood. they’ll guide you in understanding how your upbringing shaped your beliefs about yourself and the world. therapy also gives you tools to reframe those beliefs and meet your emotional needs.

watch “dear zindagi” lol

3. look at old photos and memories

revisit old photos, journals, or artwork from your childhood. don’t just look at them—analyze them. (i wish i could d this but im stuck with 20 photos so… 😭) what do you notice in your younger self’s eyes, body language, or expression?

• ask yourself:

• what was i feeling here?

• did i feel safe? loved? excited? scared?

• what did i need in this moment that i didn’t get?

• use this reflection to understand your inner child’s unmet needs.

4. create new positive memories

your inner child is still alive within you, and they crave fun, love, and freedom. do things your younger self would’ve loved but never got to do: buy yourself a toy you always wanted. go to an amusement park or build a pillow fort. dance around your room like no one’s watching. this isn’t childish it’s healing.

5. practice reparenting

treat yourself as if you were your own child. when you feel sad or scared, don’t ignore it.

ask yourself: what do i need right now? and give it to yourself.

be the loving, supportive, and protective parent your inner child deserved.

6. identify triggers and patterns

notice when you’re acting out of a place of childhood wounds.

for example: do you get overly anxious when someone’s mad at you? do you seek validation in toxic relationships? trace these behaviors back to your childhood.

were you taught that love is conditional? did you have to “earn” attention by being perfect? once you identify the root, you can start rewiring your responses.

7. inner child meditations and visualizations

find a quiet space and imagine your inner child sitting across from you. visualize yourself comforting them, hugging them, and telling them they’re safe. remind them: “you don’t have to be scared anymore. i’m here for you.”

8. nurture yourself daily

make self-care non-negotiable. eat foods you love, sleep well, move your body, and spend time doing things that make you happy. when you treat yourself with care, you show your inner child they’re worth it.

9. forgive

healing isn’t about excusing those who hurt you. it’s about releasing the hold they have over you so you can move forward. write a forgiveness letter—not for them, but for yourself. (they don’t deserve the love i’m sorry)

“i release the pain you caused me so it doesn’t control me anymore.”

10. promise to break the cycle

vow to yourself (and your future children if you want them) just cause your grandma bleed on your mom and then your mom passed it to you does not mean you will make your future kids life miserable too. the generational trauma must break with you. your future child does not deserve it and so your inner child protect you inner child and when you have a child of your own be the best mother possible, i personally would love to make my future kids childhood so memorable and happy that they will feel the need to comeback and relive their childhood that’s the kind of childhood i want to give them

“i will not let this pain define me. i will create a life of love, joy, and freedom.”

healing your inner child isn’t easy, but it’s life-changing.when you reconnect with that innocent, wounded part of yourself, you’ll find that the love and peace you’ve been searching for has always been within you.

11. foster your inner child’s dreams

when you were a child, your dreams weren’t influenced by fear, rejection, or societal pressures. you dreamed with your heart wide open, purely and authentically. reconnecting with those dreams can heal the part of you that felt unheard or invalidated back then.

a. reflect on your childhood aspirations

• sit down and ask yourself:

• what did i want to be when i was 5? 10? 13?

• what made me happiest back then?

• what did i lose interest in because someone told me i wasn’t good enough?

• write down every dream, no matter how “unrealistic” it seems.

hint: those childhood dreams often point to your soul’s calling.

b. start chasing those dreams now

• even if your dreams have evolved, find ways to honor the essence of them.

• wanted to be a singer at 13? start singing lessons or recording yourself.

• wanted to help people? explore careers like psychology, teaching, or coaching.

• don’t hold back.

it’s not about being perfect, it’s about reconnecting with the passion your younger self had.

c. create small wins for your inner child

• maybe 8-year-old you always wanted to paint but never got the supplies. buy yourself a beginner’s set and paint, even if it’s messy.

• maybe 6-year-old you wanted to be a dancer. take a fun dance class and twirl like no one’s watching.

• small wins send the message to your inner child that they are finally being prioritized.

e. validate your inner child’s feelings and failures

• remind yourself:

“it’s okay that 10-year-old me struggled with making friends. i was just a child trying my best.”

• instead of shaming yourself for past actions, honor them.

every mistake was a step toward becoming the incredible person you are now.

f. use your dreams to shape your future

• your childhood passions aren’t just hobbies—they’re roadmaps to your authentic self.

• align your current goals with your inner child’s desires.

• if 7-year-old you dreamed of making people smile, maybe your career or side hustle should reflect that.

• if 12-year-old you loved storytelling, find ways to write, act, or share your voice.

fostering your inner child’s dreams doesn’t just heal the past—it builds a future that feels authentic to you. every time you take a step toward those dreams, you’re telling your inner child: “you were always worthy. your dreams always mattered. and now, i’m making them come true for you.”

[guiltycorp]

Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 14

Here were at the penultimate chapter. Just one more chapter to go and I am so proud of this little story. I know I said that yesterday but it is just such a good story.

The final chapter will be up on Friday!

In this we a misunderstanding, Eddie gets advice from his new roommate, Dr. Hughes is a saint.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

*throws cliffhanger at you and runs!*

~

Steve had been to a lot of places when he competed but nothing was quite like London, England.

The city was massive for a start. And ancient in ways America just isn’t. Steve, Wayne, and Robin had book their flight through Gatwick instead of Heathrow to save on money and so they arrived ahead of the athletes. Which game them time to see a bit of the city.

Robin squealed with delight when she got to ride on the top of a double-decker bus.

“The only thing that would make this better is if it was purple and had a third level!” she said excitedly.

Max had introduced Robin to Harry Potter and there was no going back. She was a Ravenclaw of course. And a good portion of her clothes were in blue or silver. There was no way to get the original blue and bronze from the book for love or money, much to her dismay.

Wayne just shook his head. He didn’t veer far from his sports and shows, but he did enjoy a good British mystery. Him and Eddie watched Sherlock. Though, everyone watched Doctor Who religiously every Saturday on Steve’s big screen TV.

They traveled over the London Bridge, the real one and not the Tower Bridge that everyone confuses it to be. It’s a regular suspension bridge. Which Robin thought was lame.

They arrived at their hotel and Steve and Robin went into one room and Wayne went into the other. Once they were showered and changed, they went to go meet Eddie at the airport. They waited by the baggage claim for him to arrive.

They saw a bunch of athletes pile out of security and they jumped up and down trying to find in the crowd.

Wayne spotted him first. He waved his arm in the air. “Eddie!”

Those chocolate button eyes lit up as Eddie heard his name being called. Suddenly Steve and Robin were joining in and calling his name too.

He patted someone on the shoulder and trotted over to the three of them. He gave them all hugs.

“Can you believe it?” Eddie squealed. “The actual fucking Olympics. And all thanks to Stevie here, seeing my potential.”

Steve ducked his head to hide his blush. “I may have recognized your talent, but you’re the one who got you here.”

Eddie looked over his shoulder. “Look, guys. I’d love to stay and chat, but they want us to jump through hoops and shit, so I’ve got to go. But I’ll message you once I get the chance, okay?”

They all nodded and once Eddie got his luggage he was sprinting back to the other athletes.

“Well that was certainly something,” Robin said dryly, pursing her lips together. “I realize that he probably has to check in and stuff, but who was that guy he was chatting with before he noticed us?”

Steve’s stomach twisted as he tried to tell himself he had no claim to Eddie. Eddie was only twenty to his own twenty-six. It was good Eddie was meeting people his own age. Maybe... he gulped hard. Maybe find someone to have a fling with or even...He closed his eyes. He shook his head.

“Steve?” Robin asked breaking into his revery with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’ve been calling your name for a bit there. You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said with a blinding, and blindingly false smile. “Just hard to be here and not be competing, you know?”

Robin and Wayne shared a glance. They really hadn’t thought about that aspect of this trip. They had been so excited to see Eddie in the Olympics that they forgot that had Steve not been hurt last time, he would be with Eddie, getting his badge and room sorted. Instead of here with the family members.

“Sorry, Steve,” Robin murmured. “I feel like such a bad friend now.”

Steve shrugged her off. He looked at his watch. “I think I’m going to call Dr. Hughes.” He walked off in the direction of the exit, leaving behind a hurt Robin and a solemn Wayne.

Once he was out in open air, Steve felt like he could breathe again. The feelings for Eddie plus the weight of not being one of the athletes was just suddenly too much.

He chew on his thumbnail as he dialed Dr. Hughes. “Please pick up. Please pick up.”

“Hello, Steve,” Dr. Hughes said warmly. “I was expecting you to call today for I took the day off to be available to you.”

Steve slumped against the building wall and huffed out a watery laugh. “Am I really that predictable?”

“No, Steve,” Dr. Hughes assured him. “Trauma is that predictable. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, seeing Eddie standing where you stood four years ago. All hopes and dreams and to have them taken away from you so quickly. You’re allowed to grieve that. I’m proud of you for reaching out.”

“It’s just so heartbreaking,” Steve said, fighting back tears. “I thought I could be happy enough for Eddie. But I just want to shake him.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or, you know, kiss him.”

Dr. Hughes chuckled. “I was wondering when you were going to admit to that one. You’ve been pining after that boy for so long, Steve.”

“It’s unethical,” Steve huffed, tilting his head back until it hit the wall behind him. “I’m his coach and I’m six years older. I can’t be lusting over a twenty year old that I have authority over. I don’t want to lose him by being removed as his coach. I think that would devastate us both.”

“That’s certainly true,” he murmured. “But you aren’t his coach right now and it might be a good idea to at least confront those feelings and see where it takes you. You can always find someone else to coach him. Promote Robin. I’m sure she’d love that.”

Steve chuckle was a little watery this time. “Yeah, I don’t doubt it. She’d throw me under a bus if meant getting a fancy coaching jacket.”

Dr. Hughes chuckled back. “Well maybe toss in a bag of corn chips and then she’ll throw you under the bus.”

“Thanks Dr. Hughes,” Steve said, smiling now. “Will it be okay if I call you more during the next two weeks?”

“Fortnight,” Dr. Hughes said in amusement, “the British call two weeks a fortnight. But yes Steve you can call me at any time. Doesn’t matter the time, all right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks again. And hopefully it won’t be too soon.”

“It wouldn’t matter if it was,” Dr. Hughes said gently. “Trauma is like a box with a button in it and a ball rotating around. At first the ball, life if you will, will keeping hitting the button. Over and over again. Then with time, therapy, and good support system the ball gets smaller and starts to ping off the sides and at odd times, often when you least expect it, the ball will hit the button.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Steve whined, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s like in ‘The Emperor’s New Groove’,” Dr. Hughes explained with a chuckle, “when the squirrel pops the balloon and nothing happens but when Kuzco yells Ha! it wakes the panthers. It’s a bit like that.”

“Oh okay,” he said. “I think I get it. Something bad will happen and you think it will trigger it but it doesn’t. Then something you thought you’d be fine with suddenly awakens the sleeping panthers?”

“That’s it exactly,” Dr. Hughes said approvingly. “You get some sleep and maybe a small snack, both will help with the feelings you have.”

“Thanks again,” Steve said and hung up. He looked up to see Wayne and Robin standing a respectful distance away. “Sorry about that, guys.”

“Don’t you be apologizing for being overwhelmed, you hear?” Wayne said dryly. “It’s not your fault we’re a pair of idiots.”

Robin came up and gave him a big hug. “Yeah. We’re really sorry. But you’ve got to tell us when you get these feelings, we can’t read your mind, okay?”

Steve nodded into her arms. “I’ll try to but sometimes it just hits me out of nowhere and I can’t control that.”

“Roger that!” she said with a sniffle. “I’m guessing just now was one of those moments where it just hit you?”

“Yeah,” he said letting out a shuddering breath. “I was watching Eddie laughing with his teammates and it just suddenly became too much.”

“You always were wet, Harrington,” a sneering voice said from behind them. “I just didn’t realize it was that bad.”

Steve turned around slowly. “Billy Hargrove. I was ultimately surprised Jason made it through the trials. Who did you pay off to take the hit in his heat?”

Billy’s sneer grew to a snarl. “You always thought you were better than everyone else, Harrington but look at you now. Crying in an airport.”

“You always were a better liar than you were a swimmer,” Steve scoffed. “Maybe you should run along and leave the winning to the people who know what that looks like.”

“Bitch,” he snapped and stormed off to a rental Jag that was waiting for him on the curb.

~

Eddie would have flopped face first into the mattress but he was pretty sure that if he did, it would collapse under him. His roommate was a guy named Trent York, who also had been his seat partner on the flight over. They had a lot in common. They liked D&D, fantasy movies, and

they both grew up poor.

Alas, Trent not only as straight as an arrow, but was planning on proposing to his girlfriend if he got on the podium for any of his events.

God, he wished he had been able to stick around with Steve and Wayne and Robin. But Steve had been there before and knew how hectic it was when they first landed, right?

Right?

But when he turned around to wave goodbye, Steve had this look. Like Eddie had done something wrong. And as much as he hated to admit it, it took him awhile to figure out why. From Wayne and his friends’ point of view, it looked like he had been flirting with Trent and then hurried to get back to him.

Which had not been the case and he really didn’t want to have have to overexplain to Steve that it wasn’t what it looked like. Eddie already felt like he was pressuring Steve into something he didn’t want to do.

Which he was absolutely not about, at all.

He laid gently on the bed and flopped awkwardly around so that he was face down into the pillow.

Trent, who had gone to the bathroom huff out a startled laugh. “I really don’t want to know, man. Just don’t bring anyone back to the room and I won’t either.”

Eddie mumbled something in reply.

“Sorry I didn’t catch that,” Trent said sitting down on his bed.

Eddie turned his head so that it was no longer smashed into the pillow. “I’m in love with my swimming coach from back home.”

“Ah.”

Trent looked around for a moment and then spotted a folding chair nearby. He grabbed it and set it up next to Eddie. Then sat on it backwards.

“That’s rough shit, Ed,” he said gently. “I can’t imagine what I would do if Lucy was my coach instead of the one of the girls in the club I swim with. Does he know how you feel?”

Eddie sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. “Yeah. And he feels the same. He’s just worried that swimming commission will remove him as my coach and as all the other coaches where I swim are stuck up snobs, they wouldn’t take me on and I’d have to quit again.”

“Ah ha.”

Trent thought for a moment. “There are a couple other options.”

Eddie scoffed. “Like what?”

“Tell them to fuck off?” Trent suggested. “It’s discouraged not forbidden.”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Eddie said rolling his eyes. “But he’s got some serious trauma and has anxiety.”

“Who did you say your coach was?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Okay,” Trent said, his eyes wide in shock. “I’ll admit that even I would tap that if I was gay. Holy shit. Plus like God tier level skill in the water, too. Yeah. Okay. That certainly makes things harder.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie huffed. “So what were your other suggestions for wooing said God?”

Trent pursed his lips together. “Find a coach willing to teach you? Like maybe go to a different pool. Just don’t give up, okay? You really don’t need this right now when you’re about to compete on the world level.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. “Thanks, Trent.”

“Any time.”

~

Eddie made a huge show of apologizing to Steve about how he flounced off when he should have been more attentive.

Steve laughed. “Eddie, I’m a neurotic mess and you’re human. I’ll okay. I promise.”

The smile that he got in return was blinding. Yeah, okay. He really wanted to kiss those lips. But he was going to wait until after his first meet.

Which was in only twenty minutes.

“Go on!” Steve huffed, shooing the menace away. “You’ll be late and I will not have that over my head.”

Eddie raced off as he shook his head fondly.

“You always did have terrible taste,” Robin said dryly.

Steve pushed her playfully. “Yeah, sure. This coming from Miss ‘Tammy Thompson Doesn’t Sing That Bad’, I don’t believe my taste is any worse than yours.”

Robin cocked her head to the side and then shrugged. “Yeah all right, that’s fair.”

Steve started tapping Robin’s arm. She turned to growl at him, but he pointed at the doors that would lead to the pool.

“What’s Chrissy Cunningham doing lurking outside the pool?” she asked with a frown.

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Steve growled, stalking over to her.

When she saw him coming she let out a startled yelp. That brought Steve up short. She turned to them slowly, like a deer in the headlights.

He leveled Chrissy with his best stern authority glare that he patented with his youth swimming classes. She wilted.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, nervously twisting her fingers together. She looked over at Robin and then blushed. “We’ll need to hurry though.”

She turned on her heel and dashed in the direction of the judges.

“Wait!” Robin cried out as Steve and she hurried after her. “Where are we going?”

Chrissy whirled around and still walking backward said, “The judges need to know that Jason is planting more drugs in Eddie’s locker right now.”

Robin and Steve looked at each other in shock.

“Shit!” they said together and hurried to catch up.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[call-sign-jinx]

Theodore Nott X Reader - What of it?

summary - you and theo were best friends. but when you both got accepted into hogwarts but sorted into different house. you made a promise to each other to stay together. after theo made new friends he broke his promise. now you and theo compete against each in quidditch and academically. until he badly hurts you in a match. will he change his ways? or stay the same person he now is?

warnings - the war did not happen, arguing, mentions of injury, mentions of hurting, slight hufflepuff hate, fluff

Main Masterlist Theodore Nott Masterlist

a/n - this is based off of this ask, hope y'all enjoy becos i LUV this idea. ta ta my lovelies! xx

theodore nott x fem!reader

Nott and I had a history. We used to be best friends. Our houses were very close to each other growing up. And we were both accepted into Hogwarts when we were 11. He had run to my house and banged on the door 'til somebody answered to see if I had gotten a letter as well. We were so excited to go to school together. We hoped, prayed and begged that the universe would put us into the same house as soon as we were in the castle.

When Nott was placed in Slytherin and I was placed in Ravenclaw, we both promised each other we'd still hang out together every chance we could.

We both kept our promise. Until he became close friends with Malfoy. That's when the time he'd spend with me began to fade into less and less amounts. Until we never saw each other outside of lesson.

Now, I'm glad he didn't keep his promise. He's turned into a right dickhead ever since he became friends with Malfoy. We're in 7th year now, he hangs out with Malfoy and his lot. And I'm friends with the Weasley twins, Luna Lovegood and Delilah Halifax from my Quidditch team, we also share a room along with Luna. Although I only have 4 friends, I'm fine with it. I like when my circle is small.

It's lunchtime in the Great Hall and all of us are sat together. Although we're only supposed to sit at our House tables, the twins sit with me, Luna and Delilah at the Ravenclaw table. Delilah couldn't have lunch with us today, she decided to get some extra practice before the game later today.

"So Y/N, you ready to get beat at our Quidditch match on Friday?" I shake my head and laugh at Fred's cocky behaviour.

"That's if we beat Slytherin today first. So you should be the ones getting ready to lose cause Slytherin is an easy obstacle to get over." Fred and George mock fear and huddle together. That's until they both had disgusted looks on their faces.

I turned to see who they were giving dirty looks to, and it was perfectly understandable. It was Nott, Malfoy and Zabini. Nott and Malfoy had disgusted looks on their faces while Zabini didn't show any emotion at all. Sometimes I wondered if he was a robot.

"You seriously think you can beat us? We're ten times better than you even if we had only three people on our team." Malfoy laughs at us, Nott along with him. God, they were so annoying.

"That's rich seeing as you got beaten by Hufflepuff last month, and not to be rude to them but we know how bad they are." Malfoy and Nott stopped laughing. Obviously struck a nerve there.

"They cheated, of course they were going to beat us if they were cheating." Hufflepuff did not cheat baring in mind. Nott looked me up and down with utter distaste all over his face. I put my middle finger up at him and turned back to Fred and George.

"It doesn't matter who wins, it's just a game." Luna says to the Slytherin boys, trying to diffuse the situation. They look at her and burst out laughing.

"Oh pipe down Loony Lovegood, go chase some fargles or whatever you call them." Nott's words make Luna look down in embarrassment.

I stand up from the bench and get toe to toe with Nott. I was pissed. I'm fine him picking on me but when he picks on Luna. That's when I get pissed off.

"You better walk away Nott, or I swear to God." I looked at him with pure hate. My nostrils were flared, jaw and fists clenched, my back rigid, shoulders pulled back. He smirked then scoffed at me. What a prick.

"Come on, wasting our time on freaks like them." And with that, they turned away from us and walked to their table. I sat back down with Luna and the twins, and fake gagged.

"Cannot believe I used to be mates with him." The twins laughed while Luna smiled and then continued reading The Quibble.

"I can't either, you're the complete opposite of him. He's a massive dickhead, and you're not." I laughed at George's statement. But when I actually thought about it. I always wondered how and why he became like this. I mean, a lot can happen in 7 years but he changed drastically in the first year and has stayed the same since.

-------------------------------------------------------

It was 5 minutes before the match started between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I was quite nervous, I really wanted to win this game. I had my broom in hand and was practicing my breathing techniques to calm me down. I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was Delilah, one of my closest friends on the Quidditch team.

"You're going to be amazing Y/N, don't freak out. You're literally one of our best players." I gave Delilah a tight lipped smile and that's when I heard the music, signaling for us all to come out and onto the pitch.

Ravenclaw flew up first and we all took positions, I was a beater. Then Slytherin followed and did the same, Nott was a beater as well. I just knew he'll try to pull the little trick he did our last match against each other.

Last match, he got one of the Slytherin girls to put a jinx on my broom, causing my broom to try and throw me off of it, but I had a firm grip and luckily I didn't go flying.

The whistle blew, starting the game. I still couldn't get control of my breathing, I don't know what was wrong with me today. I focused as much as I could.

The game was going quite well for us, the score was 50-30 to Ravenclaw. To put it simply we were winning. No one on our team had gotten hit by a bludger, pushed off their broomstick or anything like that. Yet.

I saw a bludger going straight towards Delilah so I flew over to her as fast as I could and successfully hit it in a different direction. She nodded her head at me with a smile but the smile soon turned to fear.

"Y/N! Look-" Before she could finish her sentence I was hit in the head very hard with something and was knocked clean out.

--------------------------------------

I wake up in the medical wing, I had no idea how I got here and looked around to see if I could ask anyone what happened. Until I saw the twins, practically running to my bed.

"Blimey Y/N we thought you had died. Took a right hit didn't you?" Fred said, with that cheeky smile he and George always have on their faces.

"Did Ravenclaw win?" Was the first thing I said. God I sound like a right weirdo only caring about a game. Fred and George laughed.

"Jesus Y/N, that's the first thing you think about when you wake up?" I gave George a look and Fred elbowed him slightly while trying to hold back a grin.

"But yes, you did win. And Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor as well." I was confused. It's past Friday? How long have I been out for?

"Wait... What even happened? And how long have I been out?" I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head and realised my arm was in a sling.

"Nott hit a bludger to the back of your head. You were out in seconds. Then you went falling and falling and then you hit the ground and you'd be able to hear the sound it made from Luna's house." George explained to me, my eyes widened. What the fuck? I get that Nott and I don't like each other but that is low, even for him.

"And you were out for about 2 weeks. You've never been hurt that long it was like a bloody coma." Fred piped up. He then paused, as if he wanted to say something.

"What? Tell me." George and Fred looked to each other, silently asking each other if they should tell me.

"Nott visited you every day after the match." They both answered in unison. I didn't know how to react. Why would he visit me?

"Did you ever ask him why?" They both shook their head 'no' in unison.

"Didn't want to get a bludger to the head like you did Trouble." Fred's words made me giggle. But the question always stuck in the back of my head for the rest of the day.

Why?

------------------------------------------

It's been around three days since I woke up from my 'mini coma,' as the twins call it. Madame Pomfrey told me that I shouldn't go to Quidditch practice or move my arm until the potion she gave me wears off. Delilah checked up on me whenever she could though, she was very kind.

Luna has been by my side ever since I was allowed to go back to attending my lessons, said she "wanted to protect me." Bless her soul.

She was walking me to my potions lesson, which was second period, because she had a free period and had nothing else to do. While I was walking and checking my bag for everything I needed, she was skipping alongside me looking at the walls and everything around her. She was in her own little world.

When we finally got to the room I had to be in, dread filled my whole entire body. Snape had changed the seating plan and had placed me next to Nott. How wonderful.

I said bye to Luna and walked into the room, Nott was already there. And he was staring at me. God I really hope he doesn't take the piss cause after what he did I won't care that he visited me.

I sat down in my seat next to Nott and got my books and quill out. There was such an uncomfortable silence between us but I did not want to talk to him at all.

Snape began teaching his lesson like usual, until he said that we were making a potion. In the pairs we were placed in. Meaning I was paired with Nott. Could my day get any fucking worse?

We had to make a Wit-Sharpening potion. This is probably what I missed cause what the fuck even is that? And that is when I realised we had to talk to each other.

"You know what to do?" Nott finally piped up. Damn, didn't think he'd actually talk to me unless it was something rude.

"Not at all if I'm being honest." Nott nodded in response. I just stayed sat in my seat and let him make the potion, only passing him things if they were too far out of his reach.

The lesson went by quickly, thank God. And it was also break, so I'd be meeting the twins, Luna and Delilah in our usual spot at the courtyard.

When I reached the courtyard, all of them were already there and my usual seat on the bench was still vacant. Buzzing.

"Hey there girly." Delilah greeted me as she walked up to me and gave me a hug. We both pulled away at the same time.

"First day back going good?" My face answered her question. I looked exhausted and annoyed at the same time.

"Snape changed the seating plan so I have to sit next to the biggest dickhead I've ever had the displeasure of meeting." She immediately knew who it was and let out a slight chuckle.

We both then headed over to Luna and the twins and enjoyed our break. The twins were playing pranks on people, me and Delilah were talking about anything and everything, and Luna was reading an unnamed book. This is how we liked it. Although we were focused on different things, it was still spending time together.

Break then ended so we all had to go to our lessons. Luna and George had DAD, Delilah had Transfiguration, and me and Fred had a free period, luckily.

On our walk back to the courtyard, something popped into my head. And my first thought was to ask Fred.

"Why do you think Nott visited me? Do you think it's just because he felt bad?" Fred raised a brow at me, confused as to why I would even care.

"If you want to find that out, Trouble, you'll have to ask him for that. I groaned. I just wanted to find out without talking to him.

"Why do you want to know anyway? Think he likes you?" Fred gasped and put his hands on his mouth, when he finally took them off his mouth he asked, "Or do you like him?" I slapped Fred on the shoulder and gave him a dirty look. Of course I didn't like him, did I? All I think about is him, but only because he's a prick and all he does is be a dickhead towards me. That's what I told myself anyway.

"I don't know to be honest, it's just... In the past few years, he hasn't cared about a single thing I do. And now I find out he visited me every day while I was in the hospital wing." Fred nodded in understanding and we left it at that.

We finally made it back to the courtyard and sat down on our bench. But, as soon as me and Fred settled down in the courtyard after walking everyone to their lessons, Fred got called to Professor McGonagall's office. Great, he's going to be forever if it's McGonagall. Now I have to spend 2 hours on my own.

I thought I'd just walk around the castle and try and find a new place I haven't been to yet, but I've been everywhere we possibly could go when I used to skip lessons with the twins.

When I turned round a corner, I saw Nott, just leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette. Gross. That's when Fred's words played back in my head. "You'll have to ask him for that." Maybe I should. Before I could even make a decision my feet were already walking me over to him.

He saw me, put out his cigarette, put his hands in his pockets then turned his body to face me fully.

"What? Want to argue with me bout some-" I cut him off before he could even say something snarky, which earned an annoyed look from him.

"Why did you visit me in the hospital wing?" His face went a shade lighter. He thought no one except Madame Pomfrey had seen him and he had asked her to keep it between them. Then he thought. The twins.

"What of it? It's a need to know basis anyway Y/L/N." With that he turned around and began to walk away. No. Now that I'm here, doing this, he is not walking away until I get an answer. I began to walk at a fast pace to keep up with him.

"Well I need to know, so tell me." It was hard trying to keep up with him, he had such big fucking strides it was hard to keep up.

"No. You don't." It went back and forth like this for around 3 minutes until I heard him groan and was then pushed into an empty classroom. He had locked the door when I had realised we were in a classroom and I was leaning against a desk.

"Why do you want to know so badly? This is the most you've talked to me in years and it's about me visiting you in the hospital wing?" I subconsciously scoffed. Why the fuck was he acting like I had been the cause for the end of our friendship?

"Well I'd have talked to you more if you had let me. But no, Theodore Nott is way too fucking good for me to speak to. You are the reason we stopped talking in 1st year. I tried and tried to keep our friendship, but you were too busy becoming bum buddies with fucking Malfoy. So just answer my fucking question so I can leave." Nott rolled his eyes at me, acting as if I had done something wrong.

"We are not bum buddies." I scoffed at him and raised a brow. I stepped away from the desk and took a step closer to him.

"That's all you got from what I said? God you really have fucking changed. Dickhead." Nott began to get pissed off. His eyebrows lowered and nostrils flared.

"Now just fucking tell me why you visited me." I kept repeating it to piss him off. He ran his hand over his face and looked like he was about to lose it.

"Fine!" His voice boomed throughout the classroom. I took a step back, my eyes wide. I had never heard him shout before.

"You want to know why I visited you? Because I care about you, more than you can imagine and I felt so fucking bad for hitting you with that bludger. I didn't even mean to! And before you ask how come I only just cared now I haven't stopped caring about you. Even when we weren't friends. And it's because I love you! I have ever since start of 1st year." What the fuck? My eyes widened even more and my jaw dropped. Well that was a bombshell and a half.

"I thought we hated each other. And why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Nott laughed, but had a sad look on his face. He took a few steps towards me, we were now toe to toe.

"Because I'd rather you hate me and talk to me, than for you to not talk to me or acknowledge me at all." I felt horrible. All these years. He hadn't hated me, but he had loved me instead. My heart shattered, I had never felt so horrible more than I do right now in my entire life.

"Oh Theo..." I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. I didn't know what else to do. He didn't reciprocate for a few seconds but then I felt him slowly start to hug me back. We stood like that for God knows how long.

We then both pulled away and just looked at each other. I had forgotten how beautiful he actually was. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue-grey. His hair fell perfectly on his face. His jawline had looked like it was carved by angels. He grew up to be bloody gorgeous.

"I'm sorry... Y/N..." Never in my whole entire life had I heard Theodore Nott apologise. Not once. And now the first time I hear it, it's to me.

"I wish you had told me sooner Theo..." My hands move from his neck to the sides of his face. He gave me a small smile and a slight chuckle.

"How could I have told you? I fucked it up for myself. Especially when I said all those things to your friends..." I rolled my eyes, he raised a brow at me in confusion.

"If you just apologise, and actually mean it, then I'm sure they'll forgive you. They don't hold grudges once someone has apologised and realised what they've done." Theo sighed with relief. He looked to the side, as if he was thinking proper hard.

"What?" His eyes come back straight to mine, his face looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know if he should or not.

"So what are we then?" The question took me aback. I didn't know how to answer that.

"Well... I don't know..." I paused, trying to make a plan in my head. "If anything can we just take it slow? Need to wrap my mind around all this." We both giggled. We both looked up to each other and just stared.

I felt myself moving closer to him, and I could see him doing the same. We both paused until our lips were centimetres apart.

"Fuck taking things slow." And with that our lips crashed together. His hands took place on my waist and he squeezed it. My hands were still on his face so I tried to pull him impossibly closer than he already was. My arm hurt slightly, even though Madame Pomfrey told me not to move it I ignored it anyway. The kiss was passionate, but soft at the same time. I think Theo couldn't decide whether to be gentle or not. We both pulled away for air, I opened my eyes and couldn't help but smile.

"I'm sorry Y/N/N, I mean it. I truly am." I hadn't heard that nickname in years. Only Theo used to call me that. It was reserved only for him, I told everyone else who used it the same.

"It's okay Theo, I was just as bad as you." We both laughed and then hugged each other.

Did not think my first day back would go like this.

[fishingmice]

Can I have some Boyfriend Izuku headcanons, Please.

Izuku Midoriya Boyfriend headcanons!

cw: swearing, yelling at the screen lmao

Pairings: Izuku Midoriya x gn!reader, mentions of pretty and lipstick, but no specific pronouns mentioned.

Headcanons, drabble ig??

I love him mwah

God, he's such a loser. But in a cute way. A very and I mean VERY attractive way.

He would ramble, then apologize afterward. But then, after realizing that you don't mind and that you're genuinely interested in the topics he talks about.

He would even start thinking about you a lot.

"I really wanna talk to Y/N... so bored.."

He would find himself thinking of this very often, to the point where he would start mumbling these things. Then, after Tenya asked him about it, he got all flustered and said something along the lines of "N-No! Y/N is just a really close friend, don't worry a-about it!" And stuttered like 20 times for one word lmao—

After you two got together, he would be such a gentleman. Always telling you how pretty or cool you look, how badass you look in your hero costume, he is so damn in love with you.

He would sometimes come over to your dorm with his switch or an extra controller to play video games. He shows up unexpectedly, not even a text, controller, or switch in hand and a bag of candy or snacks. He doesn't even have to say anything, and you just let him in immediately.

Also, he loves playing video games with you. He loves playing games like The Finals, Lethal Company, Minecraft, any game you choose he will buy as well so you can play together. As long as it ain't too expensive, lmao.

He loves yelling at the screen with you, yelling at your poor teammates or the enemies😭😭

Ya'll be portraying him as a cute Lil cinnamon roll, but we all know that's when it comes to being with people he cares about. He acts like this out of a small bit of anxiety of hurting those around him in a way. But we all know that he's yelling at his poor teammates who keep on getting themselves killed.

What was that one meme/clip?

"YOUR AIM IS ASS🫵🖕!!!"

*breathes*

"Your aim... is not good !☝️😋"

(Literally him tbh....)

He LOVES IT when you are so focused on showing love to his scars. When you hold his hand and do that thumb thing. Hold him or hug him, and he explodes from pure joy.

He is absolutely in love with you and actually talks about you all the time.

You both have wallpapers of each other. Specifically, a picture of you with lipstick marks all over your face on his phone and a picture of him with lipstick marks all over his face.

One time, you kissed his cheek with lipstick on and purposefully, you did not tell him. AT ALL. you later received a message. A picture of him looking all embarrassed, and the message read "why didnt u tell me :(" That almost made you feel bad. Almost.

Ugh, I love this dude sm bro AAA

Totally didn't add my little obsession with that game... (The Finals...)

[mixelation]

i want to post something so here's some async. takes place after minato ambushes tori in her hotel

it's little disjointed because some of the scene were written ages ago, and i definitely want to smooth over and flesh some of it out. also there's a [...] break which is where kushina tells minato he is an idiot in various ways and gives him advice. however i have not written it yet

xXx

Minato went home and collapsed onto his futon, a huge smile on his face. That had been fun. It was nice, to face off against someone when the fate of Konoha didn’t hang in the balance. Like, yes, Reina had come closer to killing him than anyone had since that incident with Kushina and the Kyuubi, but also if she’d succeeded, it wasn’t like he’d be losing ground for Konoha or something. Minato was good, but he wasn’t so arrogant as to think he was irreplaceable to Konoha. 

She didn’t even try to kill me, Minato thought, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. That’s progress, right?

He’d figured she’d definitely have something up her sleeve when he showed up again, which is why he’d gone in kunai first. He’d had no idea what that would be, and he’d been excited for the surprise. All the fuinjutsu he’d found from Reina was insane looking and unique to her. He’d had no way to predict how she thought or what she was even capable of. If he’d hesitated again this time, she would have had that barrier up around her before he’d be able to do anything about it, and then who knew what sort of things she’d be able to do from the safety of her little bubble. 

Maybe I should have let her try, Minato thought, his stomach doing a giddy little flip at the idea. That’s what a good friendly spar was about, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about winning. It was about testing yourself against someone else, and letting them test out their own techniques against you. 

Minato did like winning, though, especially when his opponent was someone he actually had to try against. He had felt good in the moment, to have seen her trap and snuck around it. 

But he’d… somehow, after reviewing what had happened in his head, he felt a little guilty. He remembered how fast Reina’s heartbeat had been the whole time he’d had her pinned, how she’d been distrustful even after he’d used his most people-pleaser voice to promise he didn’t want to hurt her. 

Had he scared her? Maybe. He hadn’t really thought about it, when it was happening. He’d just spent weeks thinking about her face, how confident she’d been in her own victory. He’d forgotten how nervous civilians were around ninja. He could barely wrap his head around the idea that someone like Reina might be just as nervous about ninja as the next civilian. 

He’d wanted to ask more questions about her… experiments, or whatever she was doing. But he could tell she was upset despite him using his most charming smile, and so he’d left her. 

Minato’s plan, then, was to give Reina a week or so to calm down while he ran a couple of missions. He’d stop by the Yamanaka flower shop and get some advice on what type of flower he could give to a young woman he wanted to be kindling a friendship with. He had never needed to know it for any of his roles as a shinobi, but Minato knew kunoichi all got trained in flower language, and so he’d often hear women complaining or gossiping about faux-pas their boyfriends made. He’d gotten his fairshare of bouquets from admirers and then had Kushina decode them for him, a flirty little game they used to play before… well. 

Minato had no idea if Reina would know anything about flowers, but he wanted something pretty without accidentally telling her I love you passionately forever please marry me also you smell bad or something. 

As the days passed, however, Minato couldn’t help but check in on where her Hiraishin moved. He gave markers to teammates all the time temporarily, and Jiraiya usually had one on him, but… 

It was kind of exciting, to know where Reina was. He had so many questions about her, about how she saw the world and where she was going. Being able to concentrate briefly and see that she’d moved a few kilometers gave him no answers, and yet made him feel like he was learning something about her. 

And then, before he could ask anyone about flowers, one day Minato realized that the mark he had attached to Reina hadn’t moved in a while. This wasn’t unusual. There were a lot of reasons someone wouldn’t move around a lot, like sleep or sitting around for some reason. But he’d checked in on her a couple times a day, and she hadn’t moved in a very long time. Even if she was hunched over a new seal to kill him for hours at a time, she’d at least get up and move around eventually. 

Could she maybe not move? Had she been captured? Minato, to his own surprise, found himself worried. She was his project. And she was deadly clever, but she was still just a soft little civilian. 

Minato teleported to the marker. Instead of dropping in on Reina, he found himself in the middle of the air. His own marker trembled in the wind in front of him. This wasn’t at all what he had expected. 

Gravity worked faster than his brain. Minato was falling. The ground was so, so far away. It took him a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and he was lucky he was so high in the air, because he had time to think to teleport again. 

Hirashin kept the user’s momentum. Minato crashed painfully into the ground, hundreds of kilometers away in a Fire Country forest. His arm slammed down to break his fall, and pain seared through him on impact. 

She fractured my arm, Minato thought dully, sitting on the ground and staring down at his injured arm. His heart pounded in his chest, his blood flooded with adrenaline. 

The marker he’d gone to was definitely the one he’d stuck on Reina, because he’d been monitoring her. He’d followed her path. But it… she’d somehow removed it from her body and stuck it to sealing paper, and then hung the paper over the cliff. He… he had no idea how she’d done that. It wasn’t supposed to be possible for other people to remove his markers. 

Usually when he teleported to a marker sight-unseen, he was better prepared for surprises. He normally would have reacted faster. But “floating in the middle of the air” had been so far out of what he thought was possible right up until that moment, that he’d simply been unable to process it. 

His stomach squeezed oddly, making his toes curl in his sandals. 

Minato teleported back to the marker. Because he knew what to expect this time, he was able to keep his wits about him. He took two milliseconds to assess the situation: the paper with the mark hung by a fishing line, which in turn hung from a scraggly tree that had the misfortune of growing out from a tiny outcrop of rocks on a cliffside. The fishing line was over a meter long; he had no chance of grabbing hold of the tree, and without something to propel him sideways, he had no way to make contact with the cliff and use chakra to stop his fall. 

Minato grabbed the paper out of the air and teleported back to the forest, all before he’d built up enough momentum to injure himself on the landing this time. 

[...]

It took him over a week to find Reina again, partially because he took a mission in the middle of his hunt. Curly hair wasn’t common, and people noticed young women traveling alone, so her movements through towns weren’t hard to track, but he did have to do a ton of interviews. 

He was slowed down briefly where she appeared to wander off down a little-used road and switch to camping. Minato was as good a tracker as the next jounin, but it wasn’t his specialty, and he sort of had to rewire his gut instincts to follow Reina. She wasn’t a ninja and she didn’t cover for herself the way a ninja would. She didn’t travel through trees, and her average speed was extremely low.

He didn’t approach her immediately when he found her in a tent set up a little ways off the road. He had, after all, promised her flowers. Flowers would also maybe soften the blow of her fury if she tried to kill him again… maybe. 

Did he want her to try killing him again? It did seem a bit exciting, but he also did truly want to just talk to her. 

Spring hadn’t quite hit the northern countries yet, but Minato knew things further south were likely to already be starting. He teleported through a few places deep in the southern Fire Country forests before he finally found a squat little tree, heavy with dark pink flowers. He pulled off a whole branch since, assuming he could charm Reina into not attempting to him again, he wanted to see her do something with its chakra, and more tree meant more chakra. They were azaleas, he was pretty sure. That seemed pretty safe and generic. 

Maybe she can help me with senjutsu, Minato thought absently, teleporting back to where he’d left a marker just outside of Reina’s camp. 

She did jump to her feet immediately when he stepped into the clearing. But there was no deadly trap, and she didn’t look upset. 

“Wow, you are persistent,” she said. “Did you actually bring me flowers?”

She stared at the branch in his hands, nonplussed. 

“You broke my arm,” Minato said brightly. 

Reina lifted the gaze from the flower to his face, her eyebrows raised. 

“Er, it’s okay,” Minato said. He shuffled his feet nervously. “I talked to my… female friend, and she pointed out that I probably shouldn’t have… marked you. If I wanted to be friends. Sorry.”

“...apology accepted,” Reina said slowly. “Sorry I tried to kill you again. Are those rhododendrons?”

She held out her hands, and Minato passed the branch over. 

“I think they’re azaleas?” Minato said.

“Rhododendrons are poisonous,” Reina said, a huge smile passing over her face as she turned the branch over in her hands. 

Cute, Minato thought, unbidden. This was followed by: Wait, what?