#I’m going to go through and answer a bunch of old ones I still have tho today!!!!

[moonchildstyles]

prosecco h at her graduation!! he would have the biggest bouquet of flowers and take so many pics of her just bringing her around the school so that he can get a pic of her in front of every building and she is all embarrassed when she notices that everyone is staring at how adorable they are because harry has the biggest grin on his face the whole time

no you know he would have HUGGEEEEE flowers and be so excited the whole time just so proud of her and I’m so obsessed w all the pics they’d take and he’s just so clingy and happy w her even if she’s a little embarrassed from how much attention ppl are giving bc he’s being so much😭

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[lucysarah-c]

"Those are my fries, and those are yours,"

"Come on! Does it really make a difference if I take just one?" You retorted.

"Settled accounts keep old friends," he mumbled, mouth half full of food.

You giggled as he took off the top bun from his burger, piled on a bunch of fries, and took a huge bite. The scene was downright chaotic, and you burst out laughing. Levi, who normally cared about appearances, was wolfing down the McDonald's meal with an intensity that didn’t quite match the polished image he’d shown earlier, even though that suit probably cost a fortune.

Ketchup stuck to the corner of his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, silently questioning what was so funny. Once he'd swallowed, he muttered, "Eat before the fries get cold. They taste horrible like that."

You couldn't help but reflect on how the night had gone. The House of CB dress you'd bought and saved for a special occasion, the hair you had done at the salon, the makeup you practiced to mimic the subtle but lovely glam of the latest Bridgerton season—none of that had been planned for you to end up in your boyfriend's car, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of fast food from a drive-thru at 11 p.m.

The empty parking lot outside, with snow accumulating, could have been eerie if you weren’t sitting next to Levi. Fries slathered in extra cheddar sauce were scattered everywhere, and Levi shoveled them into his mouth without a care. No lights, no music, but it didn't matter—you felt safe with him, though neither of you was keen on tempting fate by keeping the car lights on in the middle of nowhere.

Taking a bite of your own burger, you chuckled again. "I don't think I've ever seen you this hungry."

Levi paused mid-chew to take a swig of his Coke. "Tch, those posh assholes. They dragged me around for hours—hours! Examples of this, representation of that, and handshakes with whoever. From 3 p.m.! They didn’t even let me grab a sandwich at the reception. Finally, they serve dinner at 10—TEN!" he grumbled, the delay clearly having been the final straw. "And what did they serve? One shrimp, a tiny cube of cheese, and some grass they picked from outside and called a gourmet dinner."

"Rich people don’t eat much; that’s why," you teased. "It’s fancy to have tiny portions on huge plates."

"That’s because they’re all on Ozempic, buying up medicine that people actually need. Fuck them," he muttered.

On any other occasion, Levi would’ve cursed you for eating in his car, but tonight he made an exception. "How are my ice creams?"

Levi glanced outside where the ice creams were stored in the cold air to keep from melting. Processing your words, he turned back to you. "My ice creams? You mean ours."

"Oh, Levi, aren’t you going to gift me one? What kind of gentleman are you?" you teased.

"Right now, I’d bite your arm off if it weren’t for the fact that McDonald’s is still open," he replied with a smirk.

You laughed again. It had been the government holiday party, and you’d been so excited to attend, ready to rub elbows with high society. One of the older women had even told you, "You should've asked for a brand to sponsor your dress, coming as Levi’s plus-one!" Erwin had insisted that Levi attend as a representative of the Ackerman family, much to your boyfriend's dismay. Uri had agreed, probably because any option was better than Kenny for a formal event.

"Erwin will kill you when he finds out," you said, remembering how Levi had messaged you to sneak out. You’d never imagined he’d drag you through a bathroom window, across the estate grounds, and into his car for a McDonald’s run. "What about Uri? I ran into him during dinner. He was so nice!"

Levi hummed in approval, acknowledging that the old man had always been a saint in his eyes. The only one capable of dealing with Kenny for so many years.

Suddenly, Levi's phone lit up, its ringtone breaking the quiet. "Fuck!" you panicked.

"Don’t answer. If we do, they’ll know I’m reachable," Levi said, ignoring the calls.

Message after message flooded his phone—texts from Uri, Traute, and Erwin: Where are you? Levi, answer the phone ASAP. Come back here this instant.

The calls came in one after another.

"They won’t stop," you muttered. "Maybe we should just tell them—"

"No. They’d send the national guard to drag me back to that snob-filled hell," Levi spat. Despite not picking up, both of you whispered as if the unanswered calls could somehow hear.

At some point, the whole situation became hilarious. You found yourself resting your head on his shoulder, chuckling as the phone buzzed incessantly. Levi kept refusing to answer, and in the midst of it all, you shared sloppy kisses in the darkened car.

"I’ve got an idea…" you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. Levi looked at you, confused, the noise from the phone distracting from the moment you were building.

Casually, you swiped up on the screen and answered. "Levi? Where are—"

With a fake gasp and an exaggerated tone, you moaned, "Ah, Lev—Yes!"

Levi had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he realized what you were doing. "Play along," you whispered. And before you knew it, he began thumping the side door, mimicking the sound of… well, thrusts.

"Harder!" you managed between giggles before the call abruptly ended, leaving both of you in hysterics.

"Well, they’re definitely not calling anymore," Levi shook his head, still grinning, knowing full well this prank wouldn’t go unpunished.

"You can always say we were busy working on the Ackerman heir they keep asking for," you teased.

Levi grimaced, entertained by the thought. "I mean…" His hand slid up your thigh, the mood shifting as his touch grew more insistent. "We could actually be doing that."

Your hips began to move slightly over his lap. A quick glance at the clock—the only light inside the car—showed 12:05 a.m. Finally past midnight. "Whatever the birthday boy wants," you purred.

—

"He picked up? What did he say, sir?" Traute asked irritably in the event staff area, where they were waiting to bring out the enormous, decorated cake for the final part of the evening.

Uri chuckled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I think he’s already celebrating. Let’s just carry on."

(No idea what this is, the idea just pop up in my mind)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time Chapter 2

<prev> <next>

So Danny? 100% has PTSD. I do have a vague plan for this. And most of the next chap written. The Fentons may or may not be terrible parents. You’ll have to wait and see. I do have plans to break everyone’s hearts at least once. Anyways. This is considered my like…. Audience test before Ao3. Things may change. As a reminder all I know about dc is from fandom and wiki and everything I remember about dp is prob poorly remembered.

—

Once upon a time, there had been a young boy who was happy. Once upon a time, there was a young boy who had dreams and a future. Once upon a time, there was a boy who had been alive in every sense of the word. Once upon a time, everything shattered. Once upon a time, there was a man who was filled with anger. Once upon a time, there was a man just as alive as he was dead. Once upon a time, there was a man who was haunted and hunted.

As the stabbed kid shuffled off, leaving Jason baffled, he grabbed the guy who he had slammed into the wall. His head was bleeding but his breathing was steady and Jason huffed. He knew he definitely cracked the guy’s skull, but he had survived worse.

“O, what do we know on this guy?” He asked the woman in his ear. Oracle’s answer would determine whether he took the guy in to the ER or let him roll the dice of fate.

“Rap sheet about a mile long. Pretty basic stuff. Armed robbery, possession with intent, B&Es, assault and battery, the usual.”

Jason shrugged then and dropped the guy against the wall. Rolling the dice it was. He turned away, looking towards where the kid disappeared around the corner “and what about the guy he was mugging?”

“That’s where it gets weird.” Oracle’s typing was coming through loud and clear. “It’s hard to get a clear picture of him. He has some sort of distortion on the feed. Everything else comes out clear but…. He’s a mess of pixels. Voice too. Scrambled. It’ll take time.”

“Think he’s a meta?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me, considering he got knifed and just…. Walked off with it. Wonder what his issue with B is though.”

“Couldn’t tell you. Think it might be time to update my armor if I’m being lumped in with people B and the bird brains have pissed off.” Jason took an evidence kit out of his pocket and swiped at the blood on his chest. Old habits and all. “Got a sample of the kid’s blood though.”

“Good thinking. Wonder if he’s in any databases. I’ve got a cleaned up picture now. Enough that it’s pinging in GU’s database. Dan Nightingale, Mechanical engineering major. It says he’s 19, it’s his freshman year and he’s in like every remedial class he can take, high school transcripts are mediocre at best. No other information about him really. Rogue in the making that one.” Oracle reported. Jason groaned, grapneling up to the rooftops to follow where the kid went off to.

“Someone should keep an eye on him. Ugh. This’ll be a conversation for B and the birds won’t it? Kid won’t like having a bunch of birds following him.” Jason flicked through the different visual modes on his visor, finding…. Cold moving through one of the apartment buildings. It was human shaped, but where he expected to find heat…. “Weird…. You seeing this?”

“Very weird,” Barbara agreed, tapping into his visor’s feed. “And hey, you could just…. Not tell him. You wanted a Lit degree right? Go to class, befriend him. Do some recon.” Jason knew Babs always walked the fine line between what Bruce needed to know about the rest of them and what she had to keep secret to keep helping them. He didn’t envy her position. Jason still wanted Bruce to hurt sometimes. Not as much as he used to, something about the sins of the father and all that. He just wanted Bruce to be aware that everything he had ever hoped for his boy to be was… out of both of their reaches forever.

“That sounds annoying.” He was 23. He didn’t have any interest in taking on a degree on top of his full time crime fighting and criminal empire running jobs.

“Yeah, but what other choice do you have? It’s go back to school, tell B, or wait for him to become a rogue.”

“I hate you sometimes.” He muttered, unsure of what made him suddenly so interested in that angry guy.

“Feeling’s mutual Hood,” She replied with what was definitely a fond tone. He grimaced.

—-

In the apartment, Danny was less than thrilled. That was his favorite shirt! Now not only was it covered in blood, it had a huge hole in it. His core still thrummed with the urge to fight, but he tamped it down. Slowly, as he pulled the knife out, he sealed the wound with a layer of ice, pulling his shirt off and throwing it into the bathroom sink. The knife was dropped into the kitchen sink. His keys and phone in his bedroom on the battered nightstand next to the bed.

He returned to the bathroom and turned the water on cold. He let it spray full blast before working on scrubbing the blood from his shirt. He looked up to eye himself critically in the mirror before noticing the waistband of his jeans were saturated with blood too. Damn it. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his pants off, throwing them into the now overfilled sink. The bathtub would probably be a better choice. Turning off the sink and turning on the tub Danny picked up the sopping clothes and dropped them with a wet thump into the basin of the tub. Carefully he lowered himself onto the floor, wincing at the way pain clawed through him.

He would need to actually eat food to heal from this at any reasonable speed. He thought of the two dollars he had, then the emergency stash of….he racked his brain to remember how much of the emergency cash he was left with once he got to Gotham…right. Twenty bucks…. That was all he had in the wall.

He missed the days when Sam would just throw money at him whenever his parents forgot to do things like pay rent or put food in the fridge.

As if agreeing his stomach rumbled loudly, demanding actual food to sate the expense of energy healing his injury would take. He thought about calling Sam. Seeing if she could arrange a prepaid card for him. He knew she would in a heartbeat.

Even cut off from family money she seemed to be doing better than he was. Wracking his brain, Danny thought she was working in Bludhaven as some sort of personal assistant. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion that came from sustaining a human body on nothing but ecto or if he had been too distracted in the moment to pay proper attention, but he couldn’t remember if that was right. Getting the blood out of his clothes he wiped at the remaining blood on his body, getting most of it off. He grabbed the clothes and turned off the water.

Slowly, Danny pushed himself to his feet. He had survived worse, multiple times. But pain never seemed to stop being painful. It lanced through his side and he almost fell back to his knees with the way it stole his breath and doubled him over. He wished he could go back to the Zone and just… wait it out. But in order to do that without drawing attention he’d need a portal. The only ones he knew of were either destroyed or…. Compromised.

Maybe he should call Vlad. Danny shook that thought away almost immediately as he realized how silly it was. Vlad spent most of his teen years antagonizing him. Besides the GIW had probably gotten to Vlad too. If he wasn’t captured he would likely be compromised. Memories of Amity Park flooded in before Danny could stop them. Of asking for help. Over and over. Of the GIW storming in and locking everything down. Of Danny frantically telling his parents, only for their eyes to dart to the kitchen before they could stop it. Of the sound of energy. The smell of his flesh burning. Of pain.

Danny forced himself to take a breath. He focused on the wet clothes in his hands. On the tiles beneath his feet. Of the too harsh fluorescents in the bathroom that buzzed. The sounds of the people above him arguing over bills and needing better jobs.

Slowly he banished the memories back where they belonged. He’d… figure it out. He had to. Somehow. For now, sleep. Danny hung up the wet clothes over the shower bar, made sure there was a towel on the floor and shuffled into the bedroom. Double checking that his alarm was set, even though his class wasn’t until early afternoon, he didn’t want to miss it, he slid into his bed and pulled the pile of blankets up over him.

Almost instantly, he was out.

—-

“B,” Jason said in lieu of a proper greeting as he stepped into the Batcave, hood tucked under his arm.

“Jason,” Bruce looked up and turned the surprised expression into something more fond. “To what do I owe the visit?”

Jason leaned against the rock. Foot braced against the wall. “I know semester’s already started, but something came up. How hard would it be to start at GU?”

Bruce stared at him for a long moment and Jason knew it was his way of trying to figure out what buttons to press. Then he tilted his head and turned back to the computer screen. “Not too hard. It is early yet. Anything I should know?”

“Babs was lonely.” It was an out and out lie, but it seemed to soften things in Bruce further, reminding him of the two children that failed him within months of each other.

“Hm.” Bruce was silent at his computer for a long moment. Convinced that was the end of the conversation, Jason tightened his grip on the helmet he had tucked under his arm. “Either way. It is a good choice. Literature?”

The comment and question rankled Jason, the thing from the pit scratching at his carefully contained emotions. Pushing for any crack. Bruce was trying he reminded himself. Too little too late, but trying.

“Yeah. Going in in the morning.”

“Should I call ahead?”

“No. I can handle it. If not I have no business being there.”

“You will do fine.” The ‘you are a Wayne’ was left unspoken.

Jason snorted. “Right. Good talk.”

“Are you staying the night?” An olive branch. Jason wanted to burn it. He tempered the impulse to a spark.

“I have my own place.”

“Your room is still yours when you want it.”

“Yeah. The room of the worst Robin in history. Pass.” Jason turned and walked stiffly back up the steps. Hearing the soft growl of Batman behind him. The start of an argument.

He considered it a victory that he didn’t run into any of his siblings or Alfred on the way out.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

I WANT A HEART TATTOO!

I'LL NEVER GET IT REMOVED!

synopsis// suguru gives you your first tattoo.

➚ pairing// tattoo artist!suguru geto x gn!reader

➚ word count// 2k

contents// friends to lovers, tattooed and pierced geto, reader is a chicken, mentions of drinking, maybe like the ittiest bittiest type of suggestive toward the end...? slightly teasing/cocky geto?

notes// this is kinda cringe but i am cringe and free. also this was inspired by heart tattoo by joyce manor (dont play with me rn.) hoping this will help hold yall off till i can finish the smau...

Geto meticulously cleans up his tattoo station, occasionally stopping to take a swig of the beer you so kindly brought him. 

“You’re quiet.” 

You hum as you take a sip of your own beer. 

He stops and turns around to face you, his eyebrow raised. “Why?” 

“I like watching you clean.” 

Geto laughs. Not just a small one either, but the kind that makes his nose crinkle and his cheeks bunch to the point his eyes are forced closed. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach, blaming it on the alcohol (even if this is only your first beer and definitely not enough to have any sort of effect on you, but you digress). 

“What’s so interesting about watching me clean anyway?” 

You huff, ignoring the increasing heat on your face. “I don’t know... Just shut up and finish cleaning, Suguru. I wanna leave.” 

He smiles and turns back around, continuing to clean. “I told you you could go home.” 

“And leave you to fend for yourself?”

“I’m a grown man.” 

“Whatever… Besides, I can’t drink all these beers by myself.” 

Geto doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders shake slightly with a small, silent laugh, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. You love his little quirks. You always have.

maybe a little too much.

Meanwhile, he picks up his tattoo machine and stares at it. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it; it’s just plain black, freshly wrapped in some black medical tape. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Something wrong?” 

He shakes his head and turns to face you again, tattoo machine still in hand. “You still don’t have any tattoos, huh?” 

“Um, no,” you respond sheepishly. “I’m not like scared or anything-“ 

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” 

“Oh. then what were you gonna say?” 

“Can I give you a tattoo?” 

You blink at him. It’s not like you don’t trust him. You trust Geto with your life. You trust him more than anyone or anything in the world. Shit, you might trust him even more than you trust yourself. It’s just…

Geto impatiently groans at your lack of answer. “Oh, cmon, you literally promised me when we were younger that you would let me tattoo you!” 

“That was when we were like twelve!” you scoff, in disbelief he’d throw something as old as that in your face… Maybe he’s been hanging around Gojo too much. 

“Give me one good reason why you won’t let me tattoo you.” 

You frown as you look away, and right away you can hear his footsteps as he places himself in your line of vision again. raising his eyebrows as if to ask, “well?” 

You mumble something under your breath that he doesn’t quite catch. “Y/N, you know I can’t hear you when you do that.” 

“I actually am scared!” you finally say loud enough for him to hear, and it comes out more like a single word than a full sentence.

Geto can't help but giggle, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth, but not even that helps.

“Suguru, this isn't funny; I'm being vulnerable here!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says through stifled laughter before finally calming down enough to clear his throat. “You're right, it isn’t funny,“ he pauses for a moment. ”Wanna know something?”

“What?”

“Getting tattooed scares me too.”

“Liar,” you scoff. “You're covered in them.”

Geto shrugs. “Doesn’t mean it’s not unnerving each time.”

“I just don’t want it to hurt,” you explain with a slight pout.

“It’s a needle going in and out of your skin, Y/N.”

“Exactly!”

“Fine,” Suguru says with a sigh, and you think that's it; he's done, but not even a few seconds later does he speak up again: “What if I said I'll be gentle?”

“Haha.” Your brain immediately short circuits, and the butterflies in your stomach are something you can't blame on the alcohol this time. “Huh.”

Geto laughs softly. “With your tattoo?”

You nod blankly, your brain still not working properly and not yet actually computing what he’s still asking you.

“Yes?” he confirms excitedly.

“Yeah…” Finally, it hits you. “Wait, no! I mean, no. and not to mention you’ve been drinking?”

“Like two sips, Y/N,” he says with a slight pout and roll of his eyes. “You know better than anyone; it takes a lot more than that to get me drunk.”

“Okay, well, what about me? Isn't it bad to get tattoed when you’ve been drinking?”

“Oh my god, just say yes or no. You know I won’t be mad if you decide not to.”

You stare deep into Geto’s eyes, and he’s not lying; he won't be mad. disappointed, sure, but not mad. never mad, never when it comes to you. And right then and there, your conviction crumbles into a million tiny pieces, just dust in the wind.

“…fine”

“fine?”

“You can tattoo me. But!" you exclaim, pointing a finger at him as if lecturing him, “it has to be small! and somewhere where it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay, I can't guarantee that last part, and you know that,” he says blankly.

You sigh in defeat. “Yeah, I know.”

Geto smiles at you softly and coos, “But I will try,” as he gently caresses your cheek before breaking away and turning around to pull back out the stuff he needs.

You stand there wide-eyed, and your jaw dropped. Geto is affectionate, sure, but he’s never been that affectionate. He couldn’t feel the same way, could he? You shake your head, denying that thought, even despite how hot you feel.

He just did that to comfort you.

That’s all.

He was just trying to be reassuring.

That's it.

At least that's what your brain is trying to say, but your heart is saying another with the way it violently beats against your rib cage.

The minute he turns around, you compose yourself, shutting your mouth and hoping to god he doesn’t notice your chest heaving almost uncontrollably.

Geto pats his tattoo chair. “Sit.”

You hesitate, standing there like a deer in headlights.

Geto clicks his tongue dramatically before grabbing your hand and leading you to his chair, mumbling a reassuring, “Trust me.”

You frown, placidly letting him drag you around like a rag doll. “I do trust you.”

“Then sit.”

And when he says it like that, how can you say no? When he’s staring at you so intently that it’s almost as if he can see right through you, how do you say no? You cant. So you don't. The only thing you can do is—petulantly—plop down into his tattoo chair.

“Sit right and lay your arm on the armrest.”

“No, do it like this.” By ‘this’ you mean with you hunched over and your arm resting on your leg rather than the armrest like Geto is telling you to.

He sighs deeply. "Y/N, your arm resting on your leg is not stable enough. like at all.”

“Do it like this or not at all.”

“Fine.” He raises an eyebrow at you in mild disapproval and says, "But if it comes out bad, it’s not my fault.”

You roll your eyes, unamused. Geto would never let anything he puts on your body come out even remotely bad. “Whatever.”

“Why like this anyway?”

“Because it’s comfortable..?”

Not really.

Like at all.

Actually, this is extremely uncomfortable, and you're sure your back will hate you later, but this gives you the best view of Geto, and that's all you care about.

“Okay, fine,” he says, not bothering to put up much more of a fight before getting in position. “Ready?”

“Yeah…” Not even a second later, you blurt out, “Wait!”

Geto’s head shoots up, his concerned eyes scanning your face intently. “What? What is it?”

You don't say a word; instead, you grab onto his shoulder with your free hand, prepared to claw into it if and when need be.

“Is that why you’re sitting like this?” He asks, a smug smile creeping onto his face as it finally hits him. “You just wanted to hold onto me?”

You nod sheepishly.

Geto smiles. “Are you ready now, then?”

You nod again.

but that's not good enough for him. He wants a real reply. “For real this time?”

“For real this time.”

Geto doesn't miss a beat, and you close your eyes as your face scrunches up in anticipation, your nails already sinking into his shoulder. But the minute the tattoo machine actually meets your skin, you peek one eye open because all you really feel is some vibration and the tiniest of scratches. It doesn’t hurt that bad at all, actually; it’s more than tolerable, and with that, your hand relaxes against his shoulder, still resting on it but no longer gripping him like he’s the only thing tying you to this earth.

It’s not long after that the feeling fades into the background of your mind, like a blur. Being tattooed isn’t even a thought in your brain at all right now. Geto could be tattooing a dick on your arm right now, and you wouldn’t even know because the only thing you can focus on is him.

The only thing you can ever focus on is him, if you’re being honest.

But right now, something is different. Seeing him in his element makes your knees go weak, and you’re grateful for the fact that you’re sitting. and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve never let him tattoo you sooner. You’d let him tattoo you a thousand more times if it meant you got to see him like this. He somehow makes the way he focuses look like art—from the way his brows are knitted together in concentration to the way he absentmindedly bites and fiddles with his lip piercings—it’s all art; he makes it look too beautiful. like he’s more modeling and pretending to focus than actually doing it. You involuntarily let out a deep, longing sigh, your eyes fluttering close in the process.

Geto’s gaze flits up to your face. “You're not about to pass out on me, right?”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze with a small, content smile on your face. “No, I'm fine, Suguru.”

“I mean, if you were, that would be fine too, because I'm done,” he replies, turning off his tattoo machine and moving away from you.

“Already?!” you ask, slightly shocked. It didn't feel like it had been that long.

“Yeah,” he says plainly as he stands up and starts quickly cleaning up his workstation once more. "Don't know what you were so scared of, dork.”

You open your mouth, ready to say something sarcastic or explain yourself, but before the words can even leave your mouth, before you can even think of them, Geto is turning back around to face you and cupping your chin in between his index finger and thumb.

Geto leans down at the same time he tilts your head up and places a chaste kiss on the corner of your (still open) mouth, cooing, “You took it so well.”

All you can do is laugh nervously. “What?” You're still giggling; you don't think you could do much else at this point. “What was that- Why did you just-“

Geto starts laughing along with you, except it’s not a defense mechanism for him; he’s just finding this all too amusing. “You didn't think I gave you a heart for no reason, did you?”

You quickly look down at your arm, the action ripping your chin out of Geto’s hold. “You gave me a heart,” you say absentmindedly, and it sounds more like a question than an actual statement.

“Are you just now noticing?” he asks, returning his hand to your chin and gently guiding you to look up at him again. “I thought you were watching the whole time.”

You swallow sharply, becoming acutely aware of how close his face is to yours again. “I was watching something the whole time, but it was not the actual tattoo.”

“Oh? and what was so much more interesting?”

“Mind your business-“

Geto barely even lets you finish your snarky remark before leaning in and kissing you again. except this time for real. except this time you kiss back.

and suddenly tattoos don’t seem so bad anymore, so long as they all end like this.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[kyri45]

✨ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU Q&A (22-09)✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto:Hey your ISAT Sky: COTL crossover comic is what got me to try out sky, it's pretty fun even if players approaching me is a bit intimidating for my socially anxious self. The comic itself is pretty nice too and thank you for getting me into such a cute looking game :3

Thank you so much!!!♥️♥️♥️ sky is wonderful, it became my personal happy place!

@lunarmoff ha chiesto: Hello!! Hi, you probably have a lot of asks in your box but I wanted to thank you for getting me into isat! I first read your Isat sky au when I was in the sky fandom and I loved it even though I didn't know the characters at all! Now that I've gotten into the fandom and gotten to know the characters, I understand your au a lot more now. I love your art style and how you added a bunch of peoples sky kids into your story! I myself would have given you my sky kid but I found your comic a little to late to give them to you. Just know that I love your comic, and I can't wait to see how it ends!!!

AAAAAhhhhh that's awesome!!!So gad that you like ISAT! It's an emotional rollercoaster but it's soooo good!

@a-tired-human-draws-junk ha chiesto: I've been reading ur sky cotl x isat au and its driving me NUTS isat is a newer brainrot for me and sky is an OLD one like I havent played sky properly in over a year and you dragged me back into the game w ur comics DURING THE SEASON OF DUETS and I've been playing daily so I can get stuff AND I CANT BELIEVE AN ISAT AU IS WHAT DRAGGED ME BACK TO CANDLERUNNING HELL /lhj Anyways love the sky cotl x isat comics I see siffrin is still an idiot (Also I cant stop imagine siffrin honking at his family like a goddamn excited moth while running around them goofily as per average sky kid interaction and the mental image is so funny)

ASDFGHJKL YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I NEED SIFFRIN TO JUST- ACT LIKE A GOOFY EXCITED AND INNOCENT SKY KID AGAIN. HE'S JUST A LITTLE GUY!!!! HE DESERVE ALL THE HAPPYNESS AND FLUFF IN THE WORLD AND I'M HERE TO GIVE IT TO HIM (after I made him suffer hell of course)

@o-rainknight-o ha chiesto:I just want you to know that I love your art! It's so beautiful!Your LMK AU is amazing. I haven't played Sky in a while and I've never played ISAT but my sister has, so I know a little about it. It's also very pretty the way you draw it.Make sure not to overwork yourself too! We are all strangers here but a lot of us care :)

Ty!!!! I hope you get the chance to play sky as well!

@scarftale-bryan ha chiesto: Why did the lads skip the plains and wasteland?

cause I don't have the time or will to draw all 6 the realms. And also cause geographically, I don't know where the wastelands could be placed in Guadeloupe

Anonimo ha chiesto:

crying wailing throwing up over isat cotl i love it so much

AAAHH TY!!!

@puppetxtheatre ha chiesto: I don't even like sky but your comic was so good it convinced me to play ISAT and now I'm in love with the game thank you

WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HELL/pos

Anonimo ha chiesto: is it bad that i keep tricking myself into believing your isat comics are canon?

omg I myself have to do it otherwise I would just go insane over the fact we will never have comfirmation to what happened to the forgotten island

Anonimo ha chiesto:I don't know anything about children of the sky (is that the name???) but I really like ISAT and I ADORE your comic. I'm so pumped to see all them colors and pretty stuff in your awesome style

Thank you! Me as well omg you have no idea (even though then panels will take double the time to color

@kestrel-bee ha chiesto: Hihi!

I’m loving your Shadowpeach AU, loving the current angst :]

but when going through your profile I saw your ISAT x COTL AU, which reminded me of the fact that I’d been intending to buy ISAT for a long while, so I finally did.

That was yesterday and I am now 6hrs in. Thank you for the new hyperfixation material 🙏

LMAO THAT WAS ME. THE FUCK (I finished the game in 3 days.)

Anonimo ha chiesto:I would just like to say I am in LOVE with the way you draw the sky kids! This is making me inspired to draw my sky kid!!

Thank you!!!

@sunsetcannon ha chiesto: Considering I am both an ISAT fan and a Sky fan I'm going to be permanently rotating this AU in my head like it's a microwave so thank you for that

And I need you to know that unfortunately you'll remain in said microwave for a lot more/pos

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: Hello! I have a question about your ISAT: COTL AU comic! So Nesting guide was there! Does that mean that Season of Nesting had already happened in this universe? Presumably Season of Revival will be happening once the dust has settled on this comic and everyone works on restoring Aviary Village, so does that mean that Revival happens after Nesting in this timeline? And will Duets, the most recent season, also have happened before Revival? (I’m just very happy because now my skid, a nesting moth, canonically can exist in this au! XD)

You can find the timeline of the AU here!

[lailoken]

Hi! If you don’t have the capacity to answer questions like this thats totally okay but I was wondering if you have any thoughts/resources on house cleansing rituals? My family and I are soon moving into the home my parents will likely live in for the rest of their lives, and I’m feeling drawn to consecrate the space with some cleansing and protection magic but unsure of where to start. We are of Irish and Danish descent living on Coast Salish land, I’m sure there’s some rich folk magic I could draw from but I have no teachers or guides to show me the way! I deeply admire your work and appreciate any advice you might offer :) Thank you!

Hello there, and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond! I've got a whole bunch of messages I've been meaning to respond to.

I definitely get that urge to "magically nest" into a new home.

I'll start by addressing the cleansing aspect of your question. When it comes to a new home (or really, any new space or item that you're going to be exposing yourself to energetically over time) there is often an urge to cleanse in some way, which is understandable. However, I encourage you to check in with yourself and your intuition of the space, asking if it feels truly pertinent to cleanse it. I bring this up because, some things—and homes especially, in my opinion—can actually benefit from and be strengthened by the accrual of energy in them. For instance, sometimes you move into a place, and it just feels gross and wrong on a visceral level, as if it was covered in "energetic grime." In a situation like that, cleansing makes total sense, as the goal is to remove that influence so that you can begin to imbue it with energy of your own. However, other times, you move into a place and immediately feel the warmth, love, and care that has been steeped into it, in which case, why would you want to remove such a rich and supportive energetic foundation from which to build upon?

As an example, when my in-law's first moved into the house we later inherited, it was shortly after the house's first tenant had died within it. She was a very kind and funny old woman who really liked my in-laws and helped make it possible for them to buy it following her death. For the first ten years or so of living in the house, they still strongly felt a sense of her caring nature present in the home, which makes sense given how long she lived there. What's more, though, any time my in-laws would argue or struggle with tension, they would begin to smell cigarette smoke and hear distant country music they couldn't find the source of (two things the original homeowner loved and indulged in daily), which would always lead to them laughing and patching things up. The energetic residue left by this woman could theoretically have been cleansed upon moving into the house, but I believe that would have been a sad loss for the house and the family.

With that little rant out of the way, let's say that you do have reason to want to cleanse the home and address that approach. There are many different ways one could use to energetically cleanse a building, but the main ones that seem worth mentioning here include Fumigations, Washes, and Recitations.

Purifying Fumigations involve invoking the excisive virtues present in a given material or mix of materials (such as Rue, Sage, or Vervain) and then burning said materials to release the ritually activated and aligned virtues of excision to aid you in cleansing the space. Practically speaking, this looks like wafting smoke through the home.

A Cleansing Wash involves steeping the excisive virtues of pertinent materials (such as Salt and Chile Pelper) into a solvent base (such as Water, Vinegar, or Oil), invoking and aligning said virtues ritually, and then using the homemade solution to physically cleanse the space (using the different solvents depending on your need—i.e. use oil for polishing wood, use vinegar for cleaning glass, etc.)

Recitations of Banishment involve walking through the house reciting or reading words of power aloud that call for the expulsion of unwanted energies or entities. This method will generally benefit from a close connection to the source material and/or a close working relationship with one's spirit allies.

In many cases, a mixture of two or more of these approaches will be used in conjuctjon to purify a home.

As for domestic protection magic, that's another subject with innumerable approaches. Additionally, most useful domestic protection magic I've encountered seems to focus on particular facets of protection (which is why my home is layered with multiple wards). As such, I struggle a little bit to think of a concise and clear way to discuss this aspect of your question. However, here are some links to previous posts in which I've discussed things like:

Protecting the home from Intruders

Protecting the home from Storms

Protecting the home from Fire

Protecting the home from Malefic Forces

A Generalized Property Ward

Additionally, I believe that developing a close working relationship with the spirirt of one's home—called a Genius Domi in my tradition—is probably one of the best ways to establish magical guardianship of the house.

[carlsangel]

TERRIFIED

carl grimes x reader

(carl comforts you during Terminus.)

tags: hurt to comfort, Terminus and mentions of The Claimers.

masterlist here!

During Terminus, you couldn’t remember a time when you felt more terrified than you were in that moment. You traveled long and far, originally you were from Woodbury. You remember being scared when you were told you’d have to move to the Prison, especially after your parents had left with the Governor one day and never returned.

You never got full answers, you heard they were attacked but not about what attacked them. You wondered about it everyday. But even in that moment, you don’t think we’re as scared as you were in the large crate marked with a big “A.” You hoped this place would be your savior, your new home.

On the walk to Terminus, you were nervous and for valid reason but Carl tried to make you feel better. He held your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it, occasionally squeezing when he noticed you breathing a bit deeper. He talked to you about a bunch of different things, a book he’d read, his old dog from before, he even asked you a ton of questions to distract you.

It worked, even though he probably was the one who needed comforting. Especially after your groups’ ordeal with the Claimers.

Right, the Claimers. The only other time you’ve been genuinely terrified.

You arrived to the wire fence surrounding Terminus. Rick asks Carl if he wanted to stick with him and he said no and he’d continue walking away with Michonne. You knew they would talk, he’s been pretty avoidant towards Michonne since that night with the Claimers. You went to walk in the opposite direction when Rick stopped you. “You’re with me.” He tells you, immediately getting to work on a dirt hole. You stood there awkwardly watching him when you realized you’d finally been alone with Rick, meaning you could gather details.

“What happened to my parents?” You inquired, not even minding the fact that it was a very blunt way to ask. It was your right to know. He looked up at you before continuing to shovel out some dirt. “We told you, they were attacked.” This made you roll your eyes. “You never told me what by. I know what kind of a world we live in, I’m not just gonna assume it was walkers.” You retort, Rick stops for a moment before you continue. “It was the Governor, wasn’t it?”

He remains still for a moment, eventually nodding while still looking at the floor. “He shot a lot of his people that day.” He explains, going back to digging the hole. Eventually the hole is big enough to stuff the duffle bag inside and he does so. He stands up and looks at you intently. “Sorry we didn’t tell you. I didn’t realize you’d be a larger part of our lives here.” He gestures to Carl, insinuating he was the reason your around. Which was entirely true.

“I just…don’t like secrets.” Rick nods and looks down at his hands as he wipes them off. “Well as long as you’re family…we won’t be keepin anythin from you.” He puts his hand on your shoulder like he tends to do to Carl. He smiles at you, and you return one as well. He goes back to the ground to cover up the bag and you walk to find Carl and Michonne. You notice they’re having a moment and you smile a little. You’re called back over as it was time to actually enter Terminus.

You enter the large factory building, noticing a woman repeating the same sentence over and over into a microphone(?) . Eventually you reveal yourselves and you’re lined up to be patted down. You’re led through what you thought would be your new home and you and Carl were both offered some food. You held the plate in your hands, looking at it curiously wondering what kind of meat it was, you wanted to assume it was venison.

Before you could ask, Rick had suddenly had a man in a headlock, causing you to drop the plate and arming yourself with the gun in your holster. You looked around and noticed everything that was familiar, the poncho, the bag, the riot gear. It was all a trap and you all fell for it. Surely you’d make it out alive, right? You always did.

Shots were fired and you started running. There were no thoughts going through your head other than escape. You’d recklessly shot at a man standing on a roof, somehow you’d actually hit him. His leg gave out and you could see him fall off the roof before Rick pulled you in the direction where you needed to run.

It felt like they were hunting you like animals. Upon running you’d see what looked like cages filled with human bones and blood all over the floors. You passed tons of crates with people screaming from the inside and you realized that would soon be you if you didn’t keep running. You were then cornered. Forced to drop your weapons, herded into the crate like, once again, like animals.

You were reunited with the people you saw as family. While that gave you a glimpse of hope, you still were still extremely worried. What would they do to you for shooting that man’s leg? You began to overthink when the group simultaneously decided that you would try to escape. You weren’t sure how to help, someone handed you a chunk of wood they’d cut off of the door with the pocket watch chain to shave down into a blade.

You looked over to Carl and he looked fine. How could he be acting so normal? Usually he had a front when in situations like this; he had one during the fall of the prison. What’s so different?

“What?” He noticed your staring. You shake it of and return to shaving down your wood against the ground. “It’s nothing.” You reply, your voice a tad shaky and he goes back to what he’s doing. You were warned that there were men arriving and you all began to prepare to storm through the large crate door. Then the roof opened.

Before you knew it you were huddled to the floor and you were extremely panicked, worried they’d take you first considering you shot one of their people. You felt someone grab you and you tried to resist. “It’s me, it’s me.” The person grabbing you was Carl, he took you to a corner to so you could catch your breath even with the smoke that flooded the room. He rubbed your back despite the fact that he was also coughing.

The room eventually aired out and you’d calmed down. You were now just sitting in the corner, your eyes still watery. Carl was checking up on everyone and you took a head count. They’d taken Bob, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. Rick. You just talked to him, he just welcomed you to the family. Now he’s probably gone. Tears begin to form in your eyes, and you begin to sob quietly. Carl notices and he returns back to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees.

“Hey we’re gonna make it out.” He reached his hand out to your face and he gently wipes away your tears, brushing your hair behind your ear. You lift your hands up to cover your face while you sobbed and his heart begin to shatter into millions of pieces. “Cmon.” He pulled your wrists from your face and pulls your hands to his lips to place kisses on the both of them. “Just breathe okay?” He says softly, continuously kissing your hands to calm you down.

Your breath slows down and you nod. Your sobs had turned into small sniffles and you looked around to see if anyone was watching and they weren’t, thank god. “But y-your dad-” He immediately starts to shake his head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s gonna handle it. I know it.” He squeezes your hand twice and looks at you intently. “You promise?” You ask, your voice still quivering. “You know I can’t.” He responds. You give him a small okay, understanding he could never really promise anything.

“Cmon.” He smiles and stands back up, sticking his hand out to you. As soon as you go to grab his hand, boom.

Maybe you would make it out.

a/n: everyone thank mama carol for saving everyone’s asses! i hope this was okay, it honestly didn’t take me too long to write so i’m happy about that. i tried to incorporate a new sort of storyline for the reader since i feel like i use the same shit every time LMAO okay bye love u

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[coffeeforday]

I missed you too

Ukai Keishin x Reader

C/W: Minors DNI explicit content, unprotected sex, established relationship

W/C: 1.4K

A/N: I am moving the (2💀) fics I have on my 18+ side blog because I’m done with that 😌 this coffee is now spiked

This was my first smut, tbh I’m hoping this move is going to help me write again

There he is again, watching some old taped matches from another team. He’s so focused on getting ready for the coming match that he doesn’t notice you observing him from the door. You never thought you’d be jealous of a bunch of teenagers, but here you are, desperate to get some attention from your boyfriend.

You make your way to him and whisper his name.

“Keishin.”

You roll your eyes at his grunt, as if it was an acceptable answer. You tap on his arm, so he can uncross them and you settle on his lap when he does. His hands immediately go to your hips, his thumb drawing circles absentmindedly at the junction of your thighs, other than that, nothing shows that he noticed you sitting on his lap. His eyes are still glued to the screen as you lay your head on his shoulder. You play with the pocket of his stupid orange hoodie but his attention doesn’t shift.

So you sit straight, fingers threading in his hair. You know he likes that. As on cue, he releases an appreciative hum and tightens his grip. Happy with the reaction, you shift even closer to him, wiggling on his crotch. All you want is to remind him you deserve some attention too, and you got your work cut out for you since he’s still watching whichever future opponent that’s playing on the screen over your shoulder.

If you were patient, you’d wait for him to be done but you haven’t seen him in forever with how busy he is. He’s always working at the farm, working at the shop, coaching, prepping tournaments and practice matches. You’re forgetting how his cock feels inside you. You miss his hands on you.

You’ve decided that he worked enough. If he doesn’t get the hint now, he’ll never get it. So you stretch your torso and lift to your knees to kiss the top of his head while shoving your breasts in his face. Subtlety doesn’t work with Ukai. You keep his face there while you discard his headband and continue playing with his hair. The blond locks falling on his forehead are inviting and you rake your fingers through them.

“Oi, I’m trying to work here.” His muffled voice reaches your ear.

“Don’t you think you worked enough for today, Keishin?” You purr, using both hands on the back of his neck to make him look at you.

He frowns, “Well, there’s a big match coming up and I have to find a way to stop that fucking setter’s serves…”

You hum, showing you’re listening, but your mouth is busy leaving a trail of kisses from his ear to his collarbone. Now sitting down on his lap to have easy access to his neck, you grind on him. He fails at explaining what he’s trying to do, his sentence constantly broken by his content sighs. His hands move to your back, one creeping under your sweater, splaying his fingers to feel your soft skin, his other follows the curve of your ass, helping with your movements.

That was easy, you almost wished you got to tease him for longer, but you’re happy he finally gave in to your affections.

His fingertips are rough from all the work he does. The contrast is welcomed, it makes you shiver as he runs them up and down your spine. You finally reach his lips and you take a moment to inspect his face. His flushed cheeks and blown out pupils make you stop in your track, as well as the bulge forming under you. Heat pools in your stomach as you grind on it. He’s waiting for the kiss with parted lips before going to get it himself. It’s your turn to release a pleased sigh, you’ve missed him. And by the way his kiss grows deeper, you see he’s missed you too.

You fist his collar to pull him closer. He pulls you in too, the hand on your back pressing so your chest is flushed to his, the other one is sliding in your sleeping shorts, grabbing a handful of your ass roughly moving you over his strained pants. The plan to tease him backfired, you don’t want to drag this any longer— you want to feel him. Heavy breathing fills the room as your movements are fueled by impatience. The kisses grow sloppier, the touches more desperate, and it’s still not enough. Your hands run from his hair to his shoulder trying to feel his large frame before going down between you and fumbling with his pants.

Ukai hisses when his cock springs free and your hand goes immediately around it to give it a few pumps. He pulls back to look at you work, hypnotized by how big he looks in your hand. He takes off his hoodie and hurries to take care of your shirt too. This makes you let go of his cock, but it’s all worth it once he sees your boobs bounce free.

You both take a moment to drink in each other’s appearance. His hair is messy, falling on his face with some strands already sticking on it. His chest is rising and falling quickly, his cheeks are pink and you can see some purple marks blooming on his neck. You smirk at the sight, your hands brushing over them before travelling down his toned stomach and taking his dick again.

What he sees is just as pretty. Your bun is now loose and hanging on the side, flyaways evident after pulling your shirt off so quickly. Your lips are glistening from the sloppy kisses. He brings his gaze down to his lap, where your shorts have run up from the grinding. Your clothed pussy is so close, he can feel the heat coming from you, he feels your thighs squeezing his while you're chasing some kind of relief. It’s his turn to smirk.

“Look at how needy you are right now, baby.”

He grasps at your thighs pushing your loose shorts higher until he can see the edge of your panties and the junction of your thigh.

Your movements falter when he starts toying with your underwear, inching closer and closer to your throbbing clit. He slams his lips to yours when his thumb finally reaches your clit and starts circling it. You moan into his mouth and he smirks into the kiss. His free hand threads in your hair, pulling at it and bringing you even closer, so close that your hands keep bumping into each other as you touch each other.

He sighs in your mouth when you run your thumb over his slit. Impatience takes over after that, his hand leaves your hair to pull you over his dick. The hand that was busy on your clit pushes your bottoms to the side before sinking you on his cock. Breathy moans spill from both of your mouths as he gets deeper and deeper inside you. Your noses are touching, his eyes gaping at you while he holds you still. His lips curl a bit through the heavy breathing.

“Hi.”

You smile back and you sigh “Hi” back.

“Sorry I’ve been so busy lately.” He peppers your face with kisses as he apologizes. It makes you softly giggle and you feel him twitch at the sound.

With a sigh of relief, he releases his grip on your hip. The way he’s looking at you makes your stomach burn. It shows how much he missed you, you missed him too. No sounds reach you as you start moving up and down his length. The video was never paused but, right now, it’s just the two of you in this bubble. You lean your forehead on his and you finally answer him.

“I missed you, too, baby.”

He cranes his neck to kiss you hungrily, his hand on your back presses your chest to his. Each time you sink on his cock, your clit rubs on his stomach. The friction coupled with the way he fills you builds up your release quicker than you’d like. Your breath quickens, your walls squeeze him tight.

He grunts, “I’m gonna cum, too.”

His fingers are digging in the soft skin of your thigh. You come undone with a broken moan. Your movements slow down but he takes over, lifting you up and down his cock. You whimper at his quickening pace until he sits you on his thighs. His cock between you spilling cum on both your bellies.

In the background, the crowd in the video cheers and you can’t help but laugh at the perfect timing. You’re both giddy, kissing while coming down from your orgasms. It’s sticky and messy, your stomachs smudging the cum covering them, but you don’t care. It’s good to have him back.

[courtingchaos]

Unclean

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

Warnings: Religious themes, menstruation: sex and talk of, fingering, blood in various places, allusions to physical abuse (not reader) it’s period sex!

A/N: Listen, I am an ex-for-almost-20-years-Catholic who grew up around a lot of Southern Baptist, so excuse my (probable) misinterpretation of Leviticus okay? I just think Roy Tillman is a real Old Testament guy. I’ve had this little one shot in the wings for a while and only got the guts to finish it recently. I’m also deeply aware that I am interpreting this character much differently than the fandom at large so like, peace be with you.

18+ NSFW No Minors

Nothing but low lights behind the pulpit and a few along the aisles to let you see the outline of him in the first pew. Leaned forward, still and quiet in the cold dark that seeps into the small wooden church. Outside, the calvary congregates and converses after their Sunday dinner provided by their shepherd and in here, in the small family chapel, it’s just the two of you in the glow of old bulbs. Warm yellow gives the bridge of his nose a highlight and shines off the sun bleached strands in his hair. When your footsteps reach his radius he looks over his shoulder, tense and sharp, but the golden glow reflects off his eyes to give him a softer look than he deserves.

You stop two pews back and he gives you a once over, nervous eyes flitting from your head to your feet and up again before he begins chewing on his bottom lip. “You go home?”

“Yes.”

“Why you still in your dress?”

“It’s still Sunday.”

He laughs through his nose and turns back to the pulpit, thumb rubbing lightly against his reddened lip. “Did you stop at the house?”

You step forward one more length of pew and stop again to watch him fidget with the vape in his hand. “No, Roy wanted to talk to my father so I came back out here.”

Gator hums, a twitch of his lip letting his displeasure show for just a moment. The smack of the metal against his palm is loud in the small space like the yell you know he’d like to let loose would be. Sharp and mean like his demeanor, trying to be like his father but just south of right.

“Did you eat?” You ask while creeping up beside him. The smoke from the pit nearby has snuck in through the gaps in the doorways and mingled with the dry smell of wood and old hay. This chapel has always reminded you of an attic with its exposed beams but the scent of decades old pine makes you the most nostalgic.

“No.”

“Not hungry?”

He looks up at you before he sits back against the bench, takes in your pieces before the whole of you, eyes flitting again from your open coat to the hem of your dress fluttering just below your knee. Vape set aside he reaches out to drag a finger up from your knee and under that hem where you keep some of your secrets. Lines of ink not even your parents have seen, another cut you’ve inflicted like the hundred others while trying to claw your way out of this compound.

Fingers dig into the back of your thigh to hold you in front of him, lets the heat from his palm sink in while he doesn’t answer you.

“What was this morning about?”

He tilts his head in lieu of opening his mouth.

“Roy was on his ‘god honoring woman’ kick again. Did Karen piss him off last night?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t home.” His other hand snakes between your thighs to hold higher up. “She didn’t look upset.” He drops his gaze then to stare at the yellow flowers dotted over the black fabric of your dress, the one your mother bought you as a threat veiled in a peace offering.

“A little too much Leviticus for my taste.”

“Mm.”

Your coat lands on the floor behind you and his fingers inch higher on the inside of your thigh. He seems fixed on the way your dress bunches over his wrist instead of the soft touch behind his ear where you tuck an errant strand of hair finally falling out of its place. Outside there’s a muffled uproar of laughter that makes you cast a sharp look through the foggy windows and Gator takes the opportunity to move his warmth away to pluck at the buttons at the top of your dress.

“Little low cut for church.”

“My mother doesn’t think so.”

“I’ll thank her later.” An actual smile this time as the first button slips through silky cotton, followed by two more before you stop him. The wood creaks under your knee as you shift your weight to it, sliding it up against his hip. Again his hand finds your thigh, up high to find his favorite ink, a simple black line cross that his thumb rubs small circles into.

He hasn’t noticed yet that you tucked your underwear in your coat before you walked all the way out here. Risky since this morning left you with a bloody visit and now you sit unclean under the rafters his family raised. Your dress slides up easily enough, almost up enough to share your secret, and finally he pulls you close. Tugs at you to get you over his lap, your other knee colliding dully with the bench back.

It’s like a switch with him sometimes the way his mood will turn. Sour petulance that makes you roll your eyes will break for roaming hands that map out your body. Sullen quiet suddenly loud with his wants, with his questions, with his panting and moaning. Any place he can have you but more often in places that would bring down his father’s ire if you were found.

Flush against him now he pulls you down to meet the seat of his hips before he pushes your dress up around your waist and pauses mid grope to laugh.

“Does your mother approve of this too?” Fingers move again along the crease of your hip until they reach soft curls. He catches your eye and doesn’t look away as he dips his fingers into your heat, his lip caught between his teeth again, this time with a smirk. He pushes up slow, thick fingers dragging against oversensitive flesh, his palm flat so you can grind against him. Words seem caught in his throat, probably something goading and whispered, something laughed out on a breath. You know he wants to make you blush about how wet you already are and how loud you’re panting but he changes his angle and moves his hand, pulls it back in front of himself and stops to stare at the red staining his fingers.

“Oh.” You don’t pretend to sound surprised. He frowns but doesn’t push you away like you thought he might’ve, instead he seems frozen in place and you don’t miss the blush beginning to trickle down his cheeks. “It’s okay.” You grab his fist hovering between you. “It’s okay.” You repeat and he looks at you then, wide eyes searching for something. Leaned in close you bring his hand up slow, up towards his lips parted around a whispered sound of protest.

“Is-isn’t this breaking a r-rule or something?”

He doesn’t curl his fingers away when you press them to his mouth, a long line of blood from his cupids bow to his chin. With your free hand you fumble with his belt and his pants, keeping his doe eyed gaze glued to yours.

“Your father walks in here without burning.”

Confusion has nestled its way into his features, eyes squinted at you until you wedge your hand in between thick fabric and hot skin. His gaze droops when you pull him free, mouth splitting open with a quiet gasp. You move then, sitting up on your knees to look down on him wanting and blooded, dragging your hands down his long arms along the back the of the pew outstretched to grip the hardwood with white knuckles. Fear, you think at first, from the wild print you’ve left on his face. Anxiousness maybe that he might be found like this, not just compromised but marked now, cut off from the flock finally.

“Gator…” You barely whisper and he’s chasing you upwards. Against the restraints of your hands on his wrists he pulls when your lips don’t descend to meet his.

A choked off whine, “Please.” His hips wiggle between your knees for some kind of friction, anything to get closer. “C’mon, come back.” He pleads through clenched teeth, tacky red turning matte on his full lips. It draws you back in and he smiles when you close the distance with a brush of a kiss, something light that makes him huff before you consume him.

He doesn’t taste like when you bite your cheek or suck on a paper cut. It’s a foreign taste on a familiar tongue, faint passion fruit from his habit and a metallic tinge that makes you groan into him. He feels good. Pinned like a fluttering moth looking for an escape, for a saving grace that he seems to find in your lips and the dip of your tongue. His breath comes in sharp puffs through his nose smushed against your cheek and again you hear him whine when you don’t let him raise his hands.

A shake of his head to break the kiss to get his point across to take a deep breath-

Outside there’s heavy footfalls on the old wooden steps. Both of you freeze like deer, your eyes trained on the heavy door and his boring through your chin, waiting to bolt at the first sign of discovery.

Muffled voices, a click of metal and your heart in your throat when this unsuspecting intruder has a change of pace. A muffled question. A pause. Quiet laughter and parting footsteps.

Your fingers simply drape and Gator takes the opportunity to surge into you. Hands grabbing at your hips to hold you closer, pushing you down on him. He guides himself in with his thumb, a quick brush over that ache of yours amplified through thrill and nature.

You miss him watching your face scrunch up in apprehension. Lips parted like his, pink lipstick smudged with blood, only you hiss out an “easy” that he answers with a shush. Lets his hands run back up under your dress to find his favorite little scar of ink, smearing red along the way. Almost dry now but his fingerprints in your mess between the two of you make him forget his reservations for a few minutes. He forgets the crowd outside and the house ten minutes away. Pushes the expectations away. He instead watches you relax into him, the way your hands unwind from his shirt only to feel them slide up behind his neck to wind back up in his hair. Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip before you bite down on a moan when he bucks his hips up gently.

This wet heat, new to him in this taboo, draws him in when you roll your hips in earnest suddenly. You’ve angled him to find that magic spot he’s usually still searching for by this point, your head rolling back on your shoulders to ride your knees raw against the wood. The deep heat of you almost scorches him, a small voice in the back of his thoughts reminding him of hellfire and naked founts.

“Fuck.” Said out loud in the hopes of chasing away a voice tinged with vitriol and a release of the climbing pleasure up his spine. You writhe in his lap and he gropes at your hips, slides long fingers down and under to grab at your thighs. Slick with sweat you slip in his grasp, heavy breaths blown over his locks when you finally reach behind him to hold onto the bench.

The open top of your dress brushes his face enough times he bites at the buttons, finally catching them between his teeth. Through his lashes he watches your face, glued to the peek of teeth behind your lips. The way you glitter in low light and muggy air. The dip of your collar bones when you roll your body into his and he can feel you tighten all around him, core and arms and air.

A not gentle hand suddenly wrapped around his jaw, fingers prodding into his mouth to hang and pull. Wandering lips messily find his own and then trail off over his cheek to end at his ear, your peak whined against him. Pulsing that makes him hold you closer so he can chase after you to find his own end.

He’s been on the precipice since you threw your coat on the ground and all it takes is a few gentle thrusts before he chokes on a groan and suddenly he feels bottomless. No floor, no bonfires, no congregants too close for comfort. Just your face in his neck and the shared messy warmth pressed between you two.

There’s a swing of headlights over the front of the chapel that breaks whatever tandem calm you two have created. Separated wordlessly with barely a glance at the extra mess, Gator quickly readjusts his pants and you snatch your coat on your way to the small ladies room in the foyer. More muffled voices tonight that intrude on your privacy while you scrub smudged lipstick off your face and rebutton your dress, jumping only a little when there’s a knock at the door.

“You fall in?” Your father jokes on the other side.

“Give me a minute!” You snap while trying to slide your underwear back on. A final look before you walk out to make sure the surface of you is presentable, no visible marks or smudges. Out in the entryway your father gestures at you to follow and Roy gives you too long of a look when he waves. You wonder if he can see it all over your face even though you scrubbed the evidence off. Wonder if he can smell it on you two like a predator sniffing out wounded prey.

Can he see your handprints all over his son? Invisible blood that marks him different now. The tang of sin sits all over your tongue and when you run it behind your teeth to savor you catch Gator staring again. Catch him watching your hands twist in your coat pockets and his eyes flit back up to your mouth. You can feel the faded touch of him worrying at your tattoo even across a courtyard.

“Hey Gator?” You holler at him while climbing into your father’s truck. “Don’t forget dinner.” A simple smile for him before you slam the door, a break in the tension and your phone is vibrating seconds later. You wait to look until your home but it still makes you laugh even when you’re starting your laundry.

Thank your mom for me.

[futfemfantasies]

Yellow - Mackenzie Arnold x reader

You woke up to a smidge of light peering through your window and a tight arm wrapped around your waist. You look at the time on your watch and it’s a little past 7:30 so you know that Mackenzie isn’t going to wake up for at least another hour. You turn over slightly and give her a soft kiss on the cheek, which causes the slightly older than you to scrunch her nose and turn over. This loosens her arm around you a little so it’s easy for you to escape. Once out of the tight hold, you decide you are going to go on a walk and to grab some coffee and bagels on the way home. After slipping on your last shoe and leaving a note on your pillow, you started your mini adventure.

You’d just moved to England from the US after scoring a deal with Arsenal so you are still getting used to the new country. Thankfully, since you and Mackenzie’s clubs aren’t that far from each other, you still see each other regularly. As you walk down the street, you see the familiar but old style shopping village you’ve grown to love. Turns out the country markets are on today and that makes you happy to explore peoples little handmade trinkets and fresh produce.

You first stop at a small flower stall and greet the old couple sitting in their slightly beaten up camping chairs, sharing a warm cup of coffee. All the different colours and aromas makes your heart burst with happiness, especially when you see this one shade of purple. It reminds you of the first time you saw Mackenzie in your national teams goalkeeper jersey. Having your favourite girl kitted out in your favourite colour did something to you. You didn’t realise how long you were staring at the flowers until you saw the old lady stand in front of you.

“You can just buy one if you want. I know a whole bunch is a bit much sometimes” the old lady offers.

You decide to buy three stems of the flower and she wraps it up nice and cute for you. You thank her and decide to give here a little bit extra for the trouble.

You walk down the next couple of stalls and see one of the new couples at Arsenal, Caitlin Foord and Katie McCabe. You talk to them for a while until you hear your phone ringing and see it’s Mackenzie. You bid them goodbye and that you’ll see them tomorrow for games night at Viv and Beth’s house. You quickly answer your phone and see Mackenzie FaceTiming you.

“Hey bubs, did you just wake up?” You ask as you look at a handmade jewellery stall.

“I did and you weren’t here. Where are you?” Mackenzie asks, mumbling into the comfy and fluffy blanket.

“I went down the street to get us some coffee and it turns out the markets are on. So I’m just having a look around, trying to familiarise myself with the area”

“Can you hurry? I’m missing out on my cuddles”

“I’ll be as quick as I can bubs. I love you”

“I love you more love. See you soon”

You look around the jewellery and see a pair of sunflower stud earrings. You pick them up and smile at the memory behind sunflowers.

On your four month anniversary date, Mackenzie took you to a sunflower farm in you hometown of Brisbane and you were in heaven. They had a clear patch where you could have a picnic and you both packed each others favourite foods and drinks. The patch was on top of a hill, over looking the beautiful mountains and the city below. You both had finished eating and you moved to sit in between her legs, watching as the sun slowing hide behind the high rise buildings, leaving behind a glow of oranges and pinks. It honestly made Mackenzie look like a goddess in your opinion. After a moment of comfortable silence, she told you those three words you have also had on the tip of your tongue also. You both sealed it with a kiss (or make out session) under the setting sun and it was truly a day you’ll never forget.

You give the earrings, along with the matching necklace, to the young girl to pay and again, told her to keep the change. She thanks you a lot before you head off down to the other stalls. You buy some more ironically coloured flowers, some matched Mackenzie’s eyes and one colour (in your brain), matching the way she smiles ever so lovingly at you.

You reach your final stall and see the most gorgeous yellow daffodils you’ve seen. Immediately buying them, you check the time and Mackenzie is texting you asking if you’ve ran away with the circus and that her ‘cuddle-o-meter’ is nearly running out so she’s going to die. You roll your eyes at the dramatics but decide to get the things you had come out for, coffee and bagels. You make a u-turn to your favourite coffee shop and order the usual for you both with cream cheese bagels.

You race home as fast as you can with two coffees and a bag full of flowers. Mackenzie hears the front door unlock and immediately goes to help you. Her eyes wide at the amount of flowers in your bag.

“What’s all the flowers for baby?” Mackenzie questions.

“I’ll explain later but please take the coffee”

You both sit on the couch and eat your bagels while you tell Mackenzie about all the stalls at the markets. Mackenzie’s heart swells up at how excited you get over the little things and it makes her smile even more (if that was possible).

“Okay presents time!” You say practically jumping out of your seat.

You explain all meanings behind the purple flowers to the sunflower earrings and necklace set and how Mackenzie hates earrings so you’ll wear them and she can have the necklace. Not once did Mackenzie get distracted or even think about not listening to you rave on about everything you bought her and the meanings behind them.

You finally got to the yellow daffodils. You turn and take Mackenzie’s hands in yours and she immediately tenses a little. You rub your thumb on her hand and she relaxes slightly.

“Mum used to tell me that yellow is the happiest colour. She used to say ‘yellow is something, or someone, that makes you so head over heels happy that you don’t want it to end’. Ever since we’ve started dating, I knew you were it for me. You’re my soulmate, my yellow. You’re the safe place I call home”

It happens all at once. The bottom lip wobbles. The single tear falls down Mackenzie’s cheek. The bone crunching hug that sends you flying back, hitting the soft cushions of the couch. You feel your shirt getting wet and you pull Mackenzie’s head up to see her with tears streaming down her face.

“Oh baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry” you mumble, wiping tears from her cheek.

“Marry me?”

You thought you heard wrong or didn’t hear her at all. When you don’t say anything, Mackenzie gets up from your lap embarrassed then you realise what she said. She turns to walk away when you grab her wrist, making Mackenzie turn her head to you.

“Yes”

“Yes?”

“Yes I’ll marry you baby!”

Mackenzie falls straight back on top of you and kisses you passionately. You pull her close when she pulls back quickly.

“The ring! You need your ring!” She sprints into the bedroom and before you could get up, she sprints right back out.

Mackenzie kneels on the floor in front of you before lifting your left hand and sliding the ring on. You tell her to stay there and you take a quick photo. She cuddles back into your arms and you cannot stop looking at the new sparkling piece of jewellery on your left hand.

“It’s gorgeous”

“Just like it’s owner”

“You cheese ball”

London being London, it starts to rain quite heavily so you both decide to cuddle on the couch and watch movies all day.

Who knew going for an early morning stroll on a day off would end up with you being engaged to the love of your life.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

A few weeks later…

liked by mackenziearnold, leahwilliamson, bethmead, matildas, stephcatley and 187,394 others

itsyn25: ‘yellow is something, or someone, that makes you so head over heels happy that you don’t want it to end’ 💍

view all 22,845 comments…

mackenziearnold: home ❤️🥺

// itsyn25: forever and always bubs ♾️

leahwilliamson: yay!! So happy for you both 😭🥹

// itsyn25: i love youuuu 🥹

caitlinfoord: I suppose you can join the club now…

// omg thank you! I totally haven’t been waiting 5 years or anything… 🥲😁

stephcatley: maid of honour dibs! 🙋‍♀️🤩

// itsyn25: I suppose 🙄

[michwritesstuff]

Loved You In Secret (Harry Potter: Mattheo Riddle)

this is my first time writing about someone who isn’t exactly canon so after reading some other things and seeing a bunch of tik toks i’ve been inspired lmaoo. hope you guys enjoy :)

summary: female reader (she/her) x Mattheo Riddle When secretly dating the Dark Lord’s son turns out to be more than you expected, you can’t help but reminisce on all the good times and think about what could have been if you had met in a different lifetime as different people.

notes/warnings: angst, mentions of secret relationship, breaking up

word count: 1,265

The floors vibrated as the music coming from the common room travelled up the stairs. You could only assume that the party was in full swing as you could hear cheering and chanting from housemates and groups of friends alike.

Normally you would have already been downstairs chugging odgen’s old firewhisky from the bottle with Pansy and jumping on the coffee table when your favorite song came on. But for some reason you told her to go ahead as you continued to pace around your bedroom trying to convince yourself to just go downstairs and enjoy the party. But you couldn’t go downstairs.

He would be there. Mattheo was always there. Even when you didn’t expect him to be or want him to be…he was there.

You still remember the first time your relationship with him changed.

******

“Y/L/N” you heard a deep voice from behind you say.

Your head whipped around quickly, eyes meeting with Mattheo.

“Jesus Theo, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, you’re just standing in the corner” he countered, a smirk present on his face.

“I asked you first, you told Pansy you weren’t coming when she asked you at dinner.”

“Do you remember everything I say?” he teased, reaching to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

Swatting his hand, you rolled your eyes before answering, “Oh please, get over yourself.”

He just chuckled as he watched you scan the common room, taking note of all the groups of students gathered together. Every house was represented, your eyes linking with Fred Weasley who shot you a shy smile before looking away.

Mattheo didn’t miss the interaction, but you were praying that he didn’t mention it.

“You and Freddy huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you answered quickly.

“Right…well if you want to stay here and be antisocial while you pine after weaselbee be my guest, but I’m going to go enjoy the party.”

Mattheo began making his way through the crowd before you grabbed his hand.

“No wait, I’m coming.”

He turned to look at you, a knowing look on his face before his eyes glanced to where your hands met, a blush rising to his cheeks.

You pulled your hand away quickly, shoving it into your pocket before smiling shyly at him.

“Sorry”

“It’s all good darling,” he smiled, leading you to your group of friends.

You spent the rest of the night dancing with Pansy, constantly finding yourself looking for Mattheo.

You couldn’t exactly explain what you were feeling. You had one conversation with him, one that wasn’t particularly interesting either, and yet…you wanted to talk to him again.

******

From that moment on things with Mattheo had changed. You were always looking out for each other, mentally and physically. When Mattheo had caught an underclassmen making an inappropriate comment about you, he had hexed him into the next century.

Pansy was giddy with excitement, begging you to tell her what was going on between the two of you. But there wasn’t anything to tell, not yet at least. If any of the boys noticed something between you and Theo they didn’t say anything, but you’re sure you could guess that Mattheo had something to do with that.

What started as little glances here and there turned into longing stares and shy smiles that were mutually returned. Hanging out with friends became secret meetings in the corridors at night.

They started out innocently enough. You would both stay up for hours, talking to no end about the most random topics. Everything from your favorite colors, foods, and muggle movies to Mattheo’s emotional burden of living up to his family name.

You knew that you were done for after the first time that you kissed.

Slytherin had just lost to Gryffindor and Mattheo was pacing back and forth in front of you as you both stood at the top of the astronomy tower.

“Malfoy has some fucking audacity to blame me, his head is so far up Potter’s ass he cant even think straight. I just I—"

“Theo, will you please just stop for a second.”

“I don’t know what to do, the team is so upset that it’s my fault we lost. It’s a fucking team sport, how is it one person’s fault?”

As he continued to ramble on you couldn’t help but to grab his face as he walked past you again.

“Y/N what ar—”

“Oh will you shut up,” you whispered, pulling his face to yours as your lips met in the middle.

Your lips instantly synced together, moving as one as Mattheo pulled you closer to him with his hands on your waist, your hand pulling on the curls at the nape of his neck.

You pulled away breathlessly, your eyes meeting his.

“That was…” he started.

“Yeah” you finished.

That kiss was just the first of many over the next few years.

As time went by your relationship with Mattheo continued to grow and strengthen. He wasn’t what you expected when you thought about the “Dark Lord’s Son” as everyone called him. To you he was Mattheo, he had always just been Theo. He was smart and charming, charismatic to no end.

But as you guys grew you could tell that he was starting to feel the pressure of living up to his parent’s reputation, and it was taking its effect on your relationship. You guys had already been very private and secretive about your intimate relationship, only your closest friends knowing. You already knew what your parents would say about it, despite being a pure blood family, they weren’t exactly the biggest fans of Mattheo’s parents.

Hours together became minutes. Conversations became arguments. Love became indifference. Things were no longer the same and you couldn’t seem to stop him from going down the path he was.

You wished that things didn’t end the way that they did. That you weren’t the same people, that things could’ve worked out. Of course this was all wishful thinking.

******

Pull yourself together Y/N you thought.

Grabbing the bottle of firewhisky that Pansy left on the dresser you made your way down the stairs.

“Y/L/N! you’re here," Lorenzo exclaimed, stumbling over to you before throwing his arm over your shoulder.

“Yeah, I live here Enzo,” you smiled. You knew that’s not what he meant but you didn’t really feel like explaining yourself.

When things got weird between Mattheo and you, you had begun to pull back, choosing to skip certain events and Irish goodbyeing at others. It was easier this way, or at least that’s what you thought.

You took a look at your group of friends, smiling as you witnessed their drunken states, celebration was in order. Slytherin had won the quidditch house cup, what else was there to do.

As you looked from Pansy to Draco your eyes met with his.

“Y/N” Mattheo greeted.

“Mattheo…good job today. You guys did well all season, you deserve it.”

“Well thanks for coming.”

“I’ll always come to your games; you know that.” You smiled softly.

“Right”

Silence faded over the two of you as Pansy interrupted, grabbing your hand to drag you to the middle of the common room. You gave Mattheo a small smile as you passed.

You didn’t know it, but it pained him to hear you call him by his name, and not Theo. He had always been Theo to you, but I guess things had changed. Because nothing lasts forever, and nothing stays the same.

check out the rest of my masterlist :)

[felassan]

As I understand it you’re probs going with Lucanis for a romance on your first run!! What in particular drew you to him as your first romance? (This is also free permission to gush about him from what little we know!)

hello! ◕‿◕ ooh hhh this is such a fun question, thanku (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

soo for this I'm stuck between Lucanis, Taash, Davrin, Bellara and Neve HHH. (which is a fantastic problem to have tbc /pos). aa they are all so 😳😳..

for Lucanis, what I like about him is the character he displayed in TN. in his short story he was really cool and interesting. he's badass - who can't love a dude who makes evil magisters shit themselves in fear just by the mention of his name - but he also has a soft heart.

Lucanis stared ahead, focused and intense. He was the kind of man you couldn’t look away from—until he looked at you. --- Lucanis exhaled through his nose. “If someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—I’m not going to complain.” --- The word quit sparked some life in the Wigmaker’s blank expression. “So, the crow thinks he can best the dragon?” “The crow,” Lucanis mocked, “knows it.” --- “Death is my calling”

like... ok sir 😳

but he's also really funny, in that dry or wry blunt sort of way.

The mage was coming to. His unfocused eyes took stock of his situation. “I won’t talk,” he spat. “Even if you torture me.” “I’m too busy to torture you,” Lucanis said, and ran him through with his sword. --- “So, the Wigmaker.” Illario wiggled his fingers ominously. “Tell me about him.” “He’s weird,” Lucanis replied bluntly.  --- Don’t think about it. Lucanis took a deep breath and flung himself off the roof. --- Lucanis thought about securing the entrance—leaving it unlocked could raise suspicion—but chose not to in case Illario decided to work tonight.  --- “Eight marks the final kill,” Illario said, coming to stand next to him. He dusted off his palms. “Do you still recite that old nursery rhyme? The one Caterina made us memorize during training?” Lucanis moved to retrieve his throwing knives. “What can I say? It’s catchy.” --- Illario rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. The Venatori already have your name. If they learn your face—” “I’ll grow a beard.” --- Ambrose threw down the matted mess. “Lucanis Dellamorte, I presume?” “Sì,” Lucanis answered, knowing even a single syllable of a foreign language would disgust the Wigmaker. It had the desired effect—Ambrose recoiled as if he’d stepped in urine. “Is this your handiwork?” “Sì.” The mage’s jaw pulsed. “You think you can come into my Imperium and act as judge and executioner?” Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but Ambrose anticipated his answer. “Don’t say, ‘Sì!’” That earned a genuine smile from Lucanis. “Normally, there’s no judgment—only a contract. But for you, Ambrose, I made an exception.” --- While hunting his mark, Lucanis had opened the wrong door and walked into an orgy. Getting out of that had been interesting. --- That’s it. Lucanis smiled encouragingly. Good little demons. 

😭😭 lmao pls

what sent me over the edge into wanting to romance territory though is some of the things we learned about him, or the way he was described ig, during the DA:TV marketing era: "lacks social skills", loves coffee, "the sole dumpster fire of the crew" written specifically by Mary Kirby to be a "bisexual disaster of a human", that he's short and has a mullet. what can i say ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

how about you? :D is there a character in particular that you plan to romance during your first playthrough? ^^

[lanitalay]

Back to the basics

Cassian x reader

Premise: Cassian has been working too much, reader is upset

a/n: hello loves, this is my first cassian fic and I'm kind of unsure about it since I've never written for him specifically but hopefully you enjoy it!

warnings: tiny bit of angst (minuscule)

Masterlist

“Cass!” You yell from the bottom of the stairs and wait for your mate to answer.

“Cassian!” Now climbing up, and a little agitated you walk into your bedroom and expect to see him sprawled out on the mattress. But the room is empty and the bed is cold. You roll your eyes and send Rhysand a mental insult. There’s only one place he could be. 

You had grown tired of asking him to take a break and rest. Maybe it was selfish, but you missed your mate. Wanted his attention only on you, like the old days. When he would whisk you away for picnics and spontaneous camping. You couldn’t say you were the outdoorsy type. Having been born and raised in the heart of the Rainbow, you were a proper city girl. But Cassian loved all of that, and you loved him more than what was rational. 

The door to the study was closed and you could hear him shuffling around in there. Probably frustrated with something happening in the Illyrian Mountains, or maybe Eris sent word of Beron’s newest antics. It must not be grave though, since no one called an emergency meeting. Whatever he was dealing with could wait. 

Once the tent and food supplies were packed you barged into the office. “I’m busy right now, sweetheart.” 

“Cassian, I’m going to say this with love. You are a workaholic.” He scoffed “just give me a few minutes-” 

“No! You’ve been in here for who knows how long. I supposedly have a mate but I never see him. We never talk and if we do it's “Devlan this” or "Kier that” or “Eris said” and I’m sick of it! I’m pulling you out. Come on.” You grab his arm and drag him out of the stuffy office. All the way down the stairs he’s complaining “sweetheart, I’m sorry but I have to work, it's time sensitive-” he finally stopped talking when he saw all of his camping gear packed up in the middle of the sitting room. 

“What-”

“We are going camping. Like we used to, you remember? When you still paid attention to me?” Cassian groaned, “I’m sorry I’ve been caught up with work-” 

“Nope. That word is forbidden. If you mention anything to do with work you will have to face… undesired consequences. I’ve told Rhysand to leave you alone for a few days. Let's go.” 

“Are we walking or..?” You smile, he didn’t put up much of a fight.

“You are flying us, silly.” Hand him the bulky gear and then open the door for him to walk out. 

“We can’t go too far if I’m going to be carrying all of this.” You jump in his arms and kiss him on the cheek “let’s go to that little island where we used to see the dolphins.” 

He considered it. The flight was longer than what he would have wanted but you had some precious memories there and he knew that you were trying to do something nice for him. “Alright.” 

After a comfortable flight, Cassian immediately set you, and all of the gear down. “What should we do first?” He asked as he looked around, trying to find a spot to set up camp.

“Let’s set up the tent, then go fishing.” 

Cassian nodded and pointed out a level patch of grass nearby. You begin by taking out the tent from the bag and organizing all of the little sticks and stakes in bunches so you knew how many you had of each. 

“Do you remember how to do this?”

“Well… I think this went together-” he snaps a few sticks together “and then it goes through the loops on the tent.”

“No, I don’t think that’s right.” You distinctly remember that the loops were for securing the rain tarp. Cassina sighed. “Sweetheart, I’ve set this tent up enough times to know how.”

“Well, sweetheart, you haven’t touched this tent in over fifty years so you’re probably misremembering.”

“Do you really want to fight right now?”

After a deep breath you reply “no, but you’re wrong. Those things go through these sleeves.”

Cassian did as you said and the tent was up in a matter of minutes. You grabbed the fishing rods and walked towards the shore. There was a dock that ended near a reef where fish were abundant. It was also the place where you and Cassian had your first kiss. 

Back then you were smitten with the giant Ilyrian but Cassian was sweating cold, unsure if you felt the same. He brought you here for a picnic and when the sun began to set you grew frustrated and asked “Cassian, be honest, do you want to kiss me?” He choked on a piece of cheese and struggled to articulate that “yes, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to kiss you and-” you pounced. Latching your lips to his and kissing him until you were both panting. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” You smile at him. Months later Cassian told you that he knew he was done for when you smiled at him like that, wild and wicked. 

“Cass?” He hums, eyes focused on the line he just threw, waiting for it to bob. 

“Do you still like me?” 

“What?” You throw your own line. 

“Well, we’ve been together for so long I sometimes wonder if you like me. Like if you saw me walking down the street would you still feel attracted to me?” 

“Of course I’d be attracted to you. You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and I mean that as a fact not a compliment.” 

You give him a soft slap on his shoulder “you old sap.”

“What about you?”

“I think you only get more attractive as the years go by.” The fishing rod bends down, signaling that a fish took the bait. This is where Cassian always takes over and pulls out the catch with minimal effort. 

The sun was setting and you sat flush to Cassian, head resting on his shoulder as he hoped to catch at least one more fish for dinner. You were drawing idle lines on his hand and forearm, just how you knew he liked it.  “Cass?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it that I’m annoying to be around or something?” 

He shifted “what do you mean?” 

“Well you’re always doing something else and I… it sometimes feels like you’re taking on so much because you don’t want to come home and spend time with me. I mean today I had to drag you out of that study.”

 He sets the rod down and turns to face you. His hands come up to cup your face, he almost flinches when he sees your eyes, hard and unfeeling. He knows you’re bracing yourself for whatever he’s about to say and something inside him cracks. “Y/n, I… I’m so sorry if you feel that way but that is the farthest thing from the truth. I treasure our time together and… if I’ve been absent it has nothing to do with you.” 

He feels the roll of your eyes like a stab to the heart “you say that but you don’t even make it home for dinner most days.”

“It's just- y/n, we came so close to losing everything. The war, Hybern, the Cauldron- we are still here by pure luck. I was out there doing my best to keep you safe and it was not enough. Nothing I did was enough. But now we’re here and we know something is happening. Koshchei, Beron and who knows if Hybern had other allies looking for retribution. The only thing I can think about is that now the world knows Velaris exists and you are here if something were to happen… if another attack happens and you get hurt- that would kill me. So I try to stay on top of everything because it's the only way I can sleep at night. Sweetheart, I love you, I love you with everything that I am and everything that I’ll ever be. I’m sorry, just-” 

Cassian stops talking when you wrap your arms around him in a desperate hug, face buried in his chest. He hugs you back and his heart sinks as he hears you sniffle and moisture pricks at his skin. “Sweetheart you don’t need to cry- I’ll be home more, I’ll-”

“No Cas, you don’t need to do anything. I- I’m just so selfish and self centered. Here I was mad at you while you’ve been carrying all this burden and I could only think of myself. You deserve better than a spoiled brat and-”

“What are you saying?”

“I should be apologizing to you!” Tears are cascading down your cheeks now as you burst with emotion “please forgive me, we can go home right now if you want.” You begin to stand up but Cassian pulls you down again. 

“Don’t you see? You’re right. I’ve been obsessing over potential problems but I haven’t been home and you are entitled to react to that because I vowed to you to always be by your side and I’m sorry I failed you-”

“Don’t say that! You haven’t failed anyone. I just- I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“So how are we gonna fix this?” 

“I’ll be home everyday for dinner and we can have lunch together in a cafe and-”

“Don’t suggest I train with you.”

“But babe it would be quality time spent together.” You giggle and wipe away the drying tears from your eyes. “I’ve seen you train and trust me, I’d die.” 

“Are we good?” You nod and crawl into his lap to straddle him. With both hands on his neck, you pull him towards you in a kiss that reminds you of your first. 

He deepens the kiss with a nip to your lower lip and his hands come to squeeze your hips. You pull away “do you want to-” before you can finish, he mumbled a “yes” and began carrying you back to your campsite where you would not be getting any sleep.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 2

Holy shit, guys. I have never had such a response to a story before. Thank you guys so much.

Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.

Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)

Part 1

*

The next morning Eddie got up for school excited for the first time. He had a mystery to solve and his name was Steven Harrington. Probably the third or whatever shit rich people got to with naming their kids. He rummaged through his closet looking for his favorite band tee. But he stopped when he found an old shoe box down at the bottom.

Eddie frowned and pulled it out. It was a bunch of pictures of Eddie when he first came to live with his uncle, Wayne. He looked at the shaved head and bruised face.

His dad had taken one look at Eddie that morning and decided his hair was too long. He had grabbed Eddie by the hair and dragged him into the bathroom and shaved his head. The bruises to the face were from Eddie trying to escape.

Eddie had suffered a concussion and it was then the state had taken notice. They had packed up his stuff while he was in the hospital in a big black garbage bag and told him he would be going home to his Uncle Wayne. In Indiana. So far from the life he knew. But it meant being safe from his dad and that was a plus in Eddie’s book.

It’s how he knew what Steve was going through. Maybe not exactly the same. But he knew concussions and knew they were a bad business.

He put the pictures back in the box and tucked it under his bed. Maybe he didn’t need to know why Steve was hurting. Maybe it was enough to understand. He pulled on his second favorite band tee and his jacket. He grabbed his bag and hurried out the door.

*

Eddie bit his lip. He didn’t have any classes with Steve today and wasn’t able to check up on him. He was tempted to break into the office and pull Steve’s schedule. But that would get him detention and he was still trying to keep his promise to his uncle.

How was he going to do this?

And then the answer literally dropped in his lap. A book was thrown at him by someone. He picked it up and looked at the cover. It was some old homework journal was about to throw it away when a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

Frowning he picked it up. By some miracle it was Steve’s schedule. He looked up to see if he could see who threw it at him. But it could have been anyone. A lot of people were avoiding his eye, but that could be for any number of reasons. They bought from him and now they can’t look him in the eye because he knows. They want to buy weed and don’t know how to broach it. They think he’s a freak. They have a crush on him. You know, the possibilities were endless.

But at least he knew things he didn’t before. Like holy hell, the kid did a lot of sports. He looked at baseball and swimming and basketball with his mind whirling around in his head. How did he keep all the rules straight?

Math third period Eddie knew. History was Steve’s first period. Which was probably how his messed up brain managed to spew that information at Eddie yesterday. Baseball was seventh. Basketball his eighth. Swimming was second. English fourth. Art was sixth. Art, huh? That was intriguing. Probably thought it was an easy elective. And chemistry was fifth. So it looked something like this.

Odd 1-History 3- Math 5- Chemistry lunch 7- Baseball

Even 2-Swimming 4-English 6-Art lunch 8-Basketball

Huh. Eddie never noticed, but Steve was always in his lunch period. That was certainly interesting. He wondered what Mrs Hall, the guidance counselor would do about all his sports now that he couldn’t play anymore. He supposed swimming was still fine, nothing to hit you in that. But baseball and basketball were definitely out.

Eddie chewed on his lip. The sports weren’t going to get Eddie closer to finding out what happened to Steve. They would close ranks so fast. At least Steve and him had lunch together so that would at least make it easier befriend the guy.

Art, though. He tapped his lip thoughtfully. He had art in his fifth period. He could doing some snooping there. After all art is where true expression lies. And if there was anything going on it would show in his art.

The start of a plan was forming in the back of his mind. Yeah. This could work.

*

At lunch, Eddie slid in next to Steve as soon as he sat down.

“What’s on the menu today, Harrington?” he asked grinning.

Steve looked up at him in shock again. “Um...applesauce and plain toast, with a can of ginger ale.”

Eddie winced. “Still feeling the nausea?”

Steve nodded. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s ever going away.”

“It’ll stick around for about a week,” Eddie said softly.

Steve frowned. “How would you know that?”

“How don’t you know that?” Eddie fired back. “This is your second concussion.”

“Didn’t go to the doctor either time,” Steve mumbled.

“You want to run that past me again, Harrington?” Eddie asked.

“Doctors mean having to call my parents,” Steve explained, “calling my parents means that they’ll have to come back from their trip, coming back from their trip means I get into trouble, getting into trouble is not good for a concussion, so I don’t.”

“Why would you get into trouble for having a concussion?” Eddie asked, furrowing his brow.

Steve started counting it out on his fingers. “Getting into a fight. Hanging out with black people and by extension, siding with said black person. Having to drop out of sports. Watching my grades plummet. Not speaking to Tommy and Carol. I can keep going if you’d like...”

Eddie shook his head. “Holy shit, dude. I didn’t think I’d see a shittier dad then my own, but yours and your mom take the cake.”

Steve looked down at his applesauce mournfully. “It’s not that bad. At least my dad doesn’t hit me like Tommy’s dad does.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “Are all rich dads douchebags?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Look, I’ve got to eat my own lunch,” Eddie said slapping the table and standing up, “but if you need anything come find me.”

Steve nodded, but Eddie didn’t think he would take him up on it.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites

[harrysmmm]

hello, love! i originally put this in the comments but it might get lost in your notifications. anyway, if you are up for it, do you mind writing a second part for magically annoying? i need jealous draco 😩 anyway, if you do it may you please tag me in the comments or something so i am brought back and dont forget? thanks so much! dont feel pressured to write it 🩷🫶🏻

have a wonderful and lovely day/night <3

thank you love for the inbox! hope you like it !!! ♡

Draco Malfoy x Y/N (f!reader)

Setting: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Summary: where Harry and Draco have a crush on you at the same time and they both ask you to the yule ball. (part two)

part 1

W/C: 2.4K

Taglist: @mrsmikaelsxn @Iail1010

masterlist here

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Mixed feelings. That’s how you would describe the way you felt at that moment.

You were staring at yourself in the mirror. A long velvet dress was framing your body, embellishing every edge, every curve of it. Your shoulders were naked, leaving your collarbones with no room for imagination. You paired up the dress with cream high-heels that matched your hand purse.

“I swear this pin on my hair won’t stay put,” Hermione said from the other side of the room.

“I can’t believe you don’t have a spell for that, Hermione,” you teased a little bit.

“There’s no reason for a spell for hair, Y/N.” She approached your mirror and stood next to you. “Besides, I’ve tried to cast one and it’s not possible.”

“Are you guys talking about hair spells?” Luna Lovegood was standing at the doorframe of your dormitory. How the hell did she get in the Gryffindor common room? “I know a bunch of them. I made these two-side ponytails with one of them.”

“Well… you shouldn’t be here Luna!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Cool it off,” you advised here.

“I mean, this is the Gryffindor area. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Neville let me in. I’m going with him to the ball. Apparently, Ginny ditched on him. How curious, I thought she was after him, but guess she’s not.”

“Well, you look stunning, Luna,” you added. She did look pretty, in her own way. She was wearing an aluminium dress, or that’s what it looked like, coupled with hanging balls of cotton on the edges. Her face was decorated with shiny, glittery makeup.

“Thank you, Y/N. Your dress is really pretty, it highlights your body. I’m sure Harry is going to think the same.”

The name had been dropped. Harry. Harry Potter. Harry Bloody Potter. That was your date to the ball. After the incident with Malfoy, Harry was by far your safest bet. And besides, he did ask you first.

You had spent those past few weeks thinking how, when the moment would come, you wouldn’t think about the incident with Malfoy.

How you would not think about his eyes staring into yours with your wand up.

You would not think about him getting closer with a smirk on his face.

Not think about his eyes going up and down your body.

Think about his hand making contact with your waist.

His lips painfully slow when brushing yours.

His lips.

Draco Malfoy.

It was going to go downhill.

It was tradition that boys would get to the entrance first. They would all be waiting for their ladies to go down the stairs, greet them with a soft kiss on their hand, and show them to the Great Hall.

Hermione and Luna had already left - you were still passing your fingers through your hair in an attempt of putting it together. Although your hair was already in its place, you needed an outlet to where to put your twisting feelings on.

You stared at yourself in the mirror again.

Why bloody Malfoy? Why him?

While you were trying to find an answer to the rhetorical question a silly smile got in your face.

No. No. No.

You were giggling like a twelve-year-old with a crush on another twelve-year-old. Pathetic.

Besides, the thought of him didn’t deserve any of your time. The butthead hadn’t even looked at you since the incident. In fact, his little pranks had become even more annoying, even more personal, if that could ever happen. He had faked a letter from Professor Snape that had put on your desk in Charms class. The letter described as followed:

“Miss Y/L/N, Your scores on the test about deadly potion mixing have been the lowest I have ever seen in all my teaching years in this school. I’m afraid you will be suspended in advance and hope to pass next semester. I won’t tolerate a Gryffindor mocking my course, nor my teaching methods. I must take 30 points off Gryffindor. Yours sincerely, Professor Snape P.S. the same applies to Potter. Also the points.”

You teared up that day. And if it wasn’t enough, when you went to see Snape and found out it was fake, he took ten points off Gryffindor for being so naive and believing it was true. He also took ten points off on Harry, for being, once again, mingled in the sauce.

And putting everything aside, you couldn’t lie to yourself and pretend you weren’t going to look for his face that night. You couldn’t pretend you were not going to wonder about what would’ve happened if you had said yes to him. How you would slow dance together; how everyone would think you were the most unthinkable couple, but that deep down you were killing the game.

You brushed all of those feeling off, looking at yourself in the mirror forcing it to be the last time. You turned around and headed to the stairs before the ball began.

Harry was patiently waiting for you. He had been looking on and off to the stairs since girls started to come down. He was really nervous about the whole situation and for the first time, it didn’t have to do with him being the centre of attention as one of the champions of the Triwizard Tournament. He was nervous because of you. He had been wanting to ask you out since the beginning of the course, but never had the guts to do it, knowing that a friendship was at stake. The moment you said yes to him after dinner, his belly exploded in thousands of butterflies, and he promised himself that he would try to act as a gentleman for you that night. Because you were the most lovable person he had ever met.

Suddenly, you made the entrance on the stairs. His gaze immediately went to you - how your hair fell perfectly from your shoulders; how the tale of the dress would follow your steps when you went down; how your eyes would magically swing between the stair steps and him. He was taken by the view. Once you had come down, he greeted you with his arm.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He wanted to say how good you looked. He wanted to, but something blocked his throat, and he was almost unable to speak.

“Hum… you… hum… shall we?”

You got the hint. “We shall.”

You two got in the line of the champions, who as tradition, entered the ball first and opened it with the first dance. While McGonagall was counting you to make sure everyone was at their place, you scanned the room looking for a certain bleached one.

There you found him.

He had his arms crossed with Pansy Parkinson’s. He was gracefully talking to a Durmstrang student as if it was a sort of haute-classe yearly networking party. You hated how he seemed so unbothered, so natural. He looked naturally happy. You hated it because all you could do was fake.

You decided you were going to give him a little bit of a show.

The trumpets started echoing and everyone stood in both sides of the Great Hall, except the champions and their partners who were waiting for the sign to walk up to the dance floor. When McGonagall gave the green flag, the line started to move, every couple having their arms crossed with one another. You decided to hold Harry’s hand. He looked surprised at you but didn’t move his. You were walking down the aisle, most people noticing the subtlety of your tangled hands. You peripherally looked at Draco, and noticed he had a blank expression on his face when you passed next to him. Was that jealousy? Indifference? Oblivion? You couldn’t keep thinking of interpretations when Harry’s hand got to your waist, beginning just like that the first dance of the ball. You gracefully moved with him, having internalized the compass weeks prior. You swung from one side to the other for exactly three minutes and forty-six seconds when you stopped the dance, and everyone clapped. Harry’s eyes were mesmerized on yours, seeming oblivious to what was happening on the outside.

“Y/N, I-” He started a sentence, but he rapidly stopped talking, getting closer and closer as seconds went by.

Was he going to…? You couldn’t succumb to that happening.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” And just like that, you left the dance floor in everyone’s eyes.

You got in one of the cubicles of the restroom. You locked the door behind you and melted on the floor. You were so conflicted… why all of a sudden did Harry have so much interest in you? And why did Malfoy tell you all those things a month ago and didn’t even lock his eyes with yours since?

“Y/N?”

It was Hermione’s voice.

“Yeah, here,” you replied, getting up.

“You okay?,” she said.

“Yeah, just a sec.”

You flushed to pretend and got out of the toilet.

“You don’t look okay.” Hermione knew you all too well.

“Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“Did the people overwhelm you or did Harry do it?”

You waited a few seconds to reply. “Both.”

“About the people, the hardest part already ended, we already opened the ball. About Harry, you should hint him that you don’t feel the same.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“It’s inevitable. Sooner rather than later.”

She didn’t know about Draco. You hadn’t told a soul about what happened. Mostly because you didn’t understand it yourself, but also because keeping it a secret made it more exciting – it was like your chocolate sweet before bedtime. You wanted it all to yourself.

You went over to the sink and started washing your hands.

“And you with Viktor? Have you two talked a bit?”

“Well, he doesn’t really talk. In fact, he doesn’t talk at all.”

“Stunning,” you replied.

She grinned back at you.

You both exited the bathroom and went to both your respective dates. You saw Harry sitting down on one of the tables, talking to Ron. You joined them.

“Hey, sorry for earlier.”

“Hey. No, it’s fine. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries.”

“You wanna dance, maybe?”

“Sure.”

He gave you his hand and showed you to the dancefloor. A lively rock song was being played and both of you started moving to the rhythm, having fun more than dancing. That was until you looked at your left and saw that someone couldn’t stop staring at you. You and Draco locked eyes with each other while he was also dancing with Pansy.

He put his hand on her waist.

You placed your arms around Harry’s neck.

He pulled Pansy closer to him.

You slowly got closer to Harry’s face.

That was until Harry cut the scene.

“You wanna go for drinks?”

You were surprised. Wasn’t he into you? Why was he not adhering to what was happening, even if you weren’t technically doing it to him?

“Okay,” you replied.

You both exited the dancefloor and headed to the drinks counter. He served you some punch.

“Y/N, I-”

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall blurted, “you must come with the other champions for the ceremonial speech.”

“The ceremonial wha-”

“Come, come. There’s no time,”

He looked at you one last time before being swollen by McGonagall’s anxiety. You looked at him leaving until someone disturbed your moment.

“No more boyfriend, Y/L/N?” Draco’s voice made an alarm in your heart go on.

You looked right at him. “I could ask the same thing.”

He smirked at you.

“What are you drinking?”

“Why do you care?”

“Woo-hoo, you were swollen by a dementor or what?”

“So funny, aren’t you?”

“So pissy. It’s because Potter left you?”

“You know, you sound like a kindergarten.” You stopped looking at him and drank more of the punch.

“Now that your boyfriend left, what you doing tonight?”

“What do you mean? We’re in a ball.”

“I stick to my question.”

You sighed. “I will stay at the ball until I’m tired and I wanna go to sleep.”

“Pity, I thought you might wanna get your wand back. Taking into consideration that tomorrow we still have class.”

You looked back at him, astonished. “My wand? Did you take my wand?”

“Who said I did? I’m just making a point here,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders and smiling.

“Draco, where is my wand?”

“Funny you ask because, it will only appear if you really need it.”

You got the hint. You looked one last time at Draco and rolled your eyes. You exited the ball with fast steps and headed to the seventh floor, left corridor, where the Room Of Requirements could be found. You closed your eyes and focused on your wand. Suddenly, where there was before a wall a door appeared. You got in.

The room was full of antic objects. You started by looking at the floor to see if Draco had thrown it, but you couldn’t see it. It was going to be impossible will all the number of objects.

“Looking for this?”

Draco’s voice echoed in the room. You turned around and there he was with your wand in hand.

“Draco, I’m done with your silly games. Give it back.”

“Come take it.” He kept it in one of his pants’ pockets.

“Draco,” you sighed, still you stood in front of him

You put one of your hands in his pocket to grab the wand and he immediately got closer to you. So close your lips were almost brushing each other.

“Hi,” he said.

You didn’t reply and with the willpower you have left, you tried to grab the wand. He got even closer, his crotch making contact with you. He had a boner.

You paralyzed and eventually, looked up at his eyes.

He was staring at you with no smile this time. He looked desperate and lustful. He pulled your head towards his, and his lips made their way to yours.

He started kissing you softly, only both of your lips playing with one another. Then he started introducing his tongue and biting your lower lip so hard it made you moan. You grabbed his neck and pulled him closer to you. He moved one of his hands to your ass and squeezed it a few times. He let out a moan.

“The Room of Requirements,” you started saying between kisses, “only opens when you need it.” He tried to shut you up with his mouth but you continued. “How did you get in?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked you, ending the kiss and staring into your eyes. “I needed you.”

Enamoured. That’s how you would describe the way you felt at that moment.