#PS I still wait for you

[blitheringmcgonagall]

P.S. I Still Wait for You

Every time I think of you I always catch my breath And I'm still standing here And you're miles away And I'm wondering why you left And there's a storm that's raging Through my frozen heart tonight I hear your name in certain circles And it always makes me smile

 I spend my time Thinking about you And it's almost driving me wild And that's my heart that's breaking Down this long distance line tonight

I ain't missing you at all Since you've been gone away I ain't missing you No matter What my friends say

Missing You by John Waite (1984)

 @jilychallenge @jilychallenge2023

@sosohh My partner in fic: just about made it in unfinished 🤣🤣

Prompt:

Words we should never have left unsaid and/or PS I still wait for you

  He still doesn’t know why she left. She never explained. Worse than that, she never said goodbye. He can’t even remember what she was wearing the last time he saw her. He hadn’t spoken to her for a few days, she had been busy with her new job, he’d been busy with his. They’d just won the war. A miracle. He was trying out for a place on the English Quidditch team, she had just been accepted onto the Healers Training Scheme in St Mungo’s. They had been together for two years, sharing a flat. He had never felt happier. Sirius had just done the preliminary exam for the School of Law – and been accepted, much to Walburga’s horror, if the Howler had been anything to go by. Remus had turned down his offer to finance him through an apprenticeship or to buy him a bookshop to manage, and instead had gotten himself a precarious job in a second-hand bookshop. Typical Moony. Peter had started a shit job in the Ministry of Magical Transport and promptly started looking for another one, rightly so.

It was a time of potential, excitement, euphoria. Voldemort was dead. And then she had disappeared.

She was fine. Marlene and Dorcas had been in touch with her. Relocated to Canada. Montreal. He didn’t even think she could speak French. He didn’t know what she was doing there. She had cut herself off from the wix world completely.

He isn’t missing her at all, since she’s been gone, it’s been nearly three years. He’s fine. He gets up every day, showers, apparates to Puddlemere United grounds in Dorset, and trains himself into the ground. Meets up with his mates regularly. Eyerolls at the obliviousness of two of them – dancing around each other, saying nothing. The evenings are the worst.

He spends too much time thinking about her. He needs to stop. She’s fine, he’s fine, they are all fine. He still has a tiny passport sized picture of them in his muggle wallet, taken at a funfair in a photo booth. He is grinning like an idiot, glasses askew. She has her head thrown back, mouth wide open, eyes shining. It’s in black and white and doesn’t move. He pretends he’s forgotten. But it’s still there, behind the pound notes he hardly ever uses. Like his heart. Still stuck in 1981.

He hears her name in certain circles – acquaintances from the class of ‘78. Despite everything, despite himself, hearing her name always makes him smile. He’s transported back to his school days. The incessant banter, the witty comebacks, the arguments over the tiniest things – excuses to talk to each other. Both smitten. Both madly in love. Or so he had thought. So had they all.

But they had been wrong.

“Lily Evans – do you hear much from her?”

“Do you guys keep in touch?”

“What’s she at these days?”

He pretends it doesn’t hurt, each time.

“We lost touch,” he says, making it sound so relaxed, so trivial, so grown up and disinterested.

He tried dating other people since she left. For two years. It wasn’t fair on them and it wasn’t fair on him. Now he doesn’t bother. He just needs to get his arse into gear and meet the right person. Or perhaps he still waits for her - an irrelevant, outdated postscript. He hasn’t tried contacting her. He isn’t a weirdo. He respects her decision. He just thinks if he knew what he did wrong it would somehow make it all more bearable.

 ***

 Remus and Sirius finally get together. He moved out, hoping that might move things along. He’s right. When it finally happens it’s domestic, uncomplicated. They talk late into the night one evening, over a bottle of red wine. Sirius has been hinting for years that he loves Remus, but the oblivious arse is too thick to notice it. And yet, he is the one to make the first move.

There’s no turning back. They get together in September – warm sunshine, hazy languid warmth hanging on to the glorious ebbing of summer. By October they are engaged. November and it’s done nothing but rain for weeks on end and they are planning a wedding. He and Peter are best men.

The date of the Wedding is December 21st, Winter Solstice. She had left on December 22nd, 1981. He isn’t missing her at all.

“She’s coming,” Sirius tells him, sticking his chin out, ready for a fight; but his eyes are guarded, like he’s concerned, protective.

“What?”

“We invited her.”

He knows who she is.

“Why?”

“Remus wanted her to be here. I wanted her to come. She was one of our best friends.”

He doesn’t answer, clenches his jaw and fidgets with the mug of tea in his hands. He can’t veto his best friends’ wedding guests. But he wants to. So badly. He clears his throat, stares at the grain of wood on the table, says nothing.

Sirius waits. He doesn’t feel anything. Except perhaps frozen.

“Alright,” he says eventually.

His voice sounds gravelly, scratchy, like someone else is talking. Sirius stands behind him, places a hand on his shoulder, squeezes it tight.

“Thank you,” he says.

Like he understands how big a thing this is.

He has four weeks to get used to it.

He doesn’t.

[skateboardtotheheart]

there is just something about the difference between edwin's love interests and having the cat king's reaction to edwin in hell being "i'll be waiting when he gets back" vs charles "no version of this where i don't come get you" rowland convincing a powerful trans-dimensional being to open a door to hell just so he could get him back

i am insane

[hotdadlicense]

DINNER IN AMERICA (2020)

[puppyboyfranco]

has anyone else kind of reached that stage where you’ve just kind of accepted you’re never going to have a partner?? like you’ve made it to 25 (and 26 this year) without one, and like there’s no hint that that’s going to suddenly change so you’re just?? “ok, I guess this is it��

[c0smiccom3t]

he deserves the boops on the snoot,,, precious guy,,,,,,

[britneyshakespeare]

The shy bachelor Godwin thought that Mary Robinson was not only intelligent and "Rational," but also incomparably beautiful. His daughter Mary Shelley recorded that "Among his acquaintances were several women, to whose society he was exceedingly partial, and who were all distinguished for personal attractions and talents. Among them may be mentioned the celebrated Mary Robinson, whom to the end of his life he considered as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but though he admired her so greatly, their acquaintance scarcely attained intimate friendship."

Perdita: The Literary, Theatrical, and Scandalous Life of Mary Robinson (2004) by Paula Byrne, page 322, contained in the beginning of Chapter 22: Radical

[showmethestars]

Binge watched the entirety of opla in one sitting what the hell do I do with myself now???

[blitheringmcgonagall]

P.S. I Still Wait for You

Chapter 2/4

Ten days before the wedding and he comes home from training to find Marlene McKinnon sitting on the low wall outside his flat, smoking a cigarette. The door is open and there’s a muggle contraption inside making an infernal noise.

“S’ up?” she says, without moving. She is the epitome of cool – backcombed blonde hair, black leather trousers, black eyeliner, The Cure t-shirt, red Doc Martins.

He raises his brow.

“Do I want to know about…?” he waves his arm vaguely in the direction of his home.

She shrugs, chips at her black nail polish, takes a long drag of the short cigarette.

“I can explain.”

He snorts, sits down beside her on the wall, and waits in companionable silence. A muggle man emerges after a while, wearing navy overalls, pencil behind his ear.

“There you are, love, all sorted,” he says, grinning at the two of them, like he’s just done them a massive favour.

“Thanks Mr. Smith. How much do we owe you?” Marlene says, stubbing out the cigarette on the wall and rummaging in her black satchel.

She pays him and watches him leave, scanning the street, hand on the wand in her pocket, eyes narrowed.

“Still worried in case a Deater follows him?” James says.

“Yup,” she nods. “Force of habit. Can’t seem to stop. Even after three years.”

“Some things don’t change easily.”

He’s talking about something else entirely and Marlene knows it.

She takes a deep breath, turns and faces him head on.

“I got a telephone installed, line’s connected now. Lily wants to ring you. She’ll phone you before the weekend, after seven some time.”

It’s simultaneously the worst and best news he has heard since she left.

“Why?” he finally manages to say.

“Because.” Marlene shrugs again. “She wouldn’t say.”

He runs a hand down his face.

“What the actual fuck.”

She stands closer to him, grabbing both his shoulders.

“Just talk to her, yeah?” she says.

Like it’s perfectly easy.

“Please. She deserves one conversation.”

He can’t seem to answer so he doesn’t. He nods, brusque.

“You’ve gone quieter in your old age,” Marlene smiles back at him, then leans in and gives him a strong hug, suffocating.

He laughs then, smiles back at her, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“I love you both,” she says. “You coming Friday to the local? Dorcas’ll be there. So will the lads. She got a promotion. Assistant Editor.”

“Holy shit! Congrats!” he gives a low whistle.

“Will we see you?”

“Probably,” he says, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the concrete.

It depends on the call. It depends on what Lily says.

***

 The phone rings on Friday night, at 7pm exactly. He’s been walking up and down the hall, repeatedly, for the past two hours. He picks up the receiver and finds he cannot speak.

“James? Hi, hello. It’s Lily… are you there?”

He laughs then, short and bitter. As if him not hanging on to every word she says was ever an option.

“James?”

“Lily.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

There is an awkward pause.

“Hi,” she repeats. “Thanks for taking my call.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Hello?”

He takes a deep breath, looks up at the ceiling.

“What do you want, Lily?”

He didn’t want to sound like a pathetic looser. A weirdo who still thinks about her most days. He tries for polite, detached. He hears her swallowing.

“I was hoping we could have a brief talk.”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“I, er, when I was, I was surprised to receive the invitation to Remus and Sirius’ wedding. I didn’t feel it was right to go. But they insisted. To the point of visiting me on a number of occasions. And they were my friends, are my friends. I don’t want to upset them. I’m so happy for them…” she pauses, and she sounds like she’s short of breath for some reason.

“Yes, I’m happy for them too. They both deserve to be happy.”

“They do. It’s… it’s just… difficult. I wanted to ask you a favour.”

“A favour?” he slides down the wall, until he’s hunched into the corner, on the floor, telephone cord in his left hand, twisting it repeatedly.

“If I come, I… I don’t want to talk to you. It would be too… difficult. Too hard. I couldn’t… I’ve told them. If I come, I’m not sitting at your table and I’m not talking to you.”

He makes a sound, so she knows he’s listening.

“I can’t do it.”

“I understand,” he says.

He hears her long exhale.

“Thank you, James.” She sounds relieved.

“Would you do it again?”

“Sorry?”

“Would you walk away, without saying a word? Would you do anything differently if you could go back?”

A heartbeat.

“No, I would do it again, every time.”

He’s glad she can’t see his face. His knuckles are white from how hard he grips the phone.

“I won’t talk to you, I won’t even look at you. You needn’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye Lily.”

“I hope you are alright.”

He’s perfectly fine. His heart isn’t breaking down this long-distance line tonight.

“I’m fine. I’m not missing you at all. I’ve moved on. Made new friends. Met new lovers.”

He sounds so plausible he can almost convince himself.

“Good. That’s good, James, I’m so glad to hear that.”

If she’s been feeling any remaining sliver of guilt about how she left him, he’s made it easy for that to evaporate.

“Yeah, so, you needn’t worry, I’ll leave you alone. It won’t be any problem.”

“Okay. Thank you, James.”

If she says James one more time he will scream or sob or punch something.

“Goodbye,” he says, formal, brisk.

“Good –"

He hangs up the phone, before she can say anything more hurtful. He’s struggling to understand how he was ever in love with her. Why he was ever in love with her.

@jilychallenge2023 this is from April, but I kept going… 🩷

[ghoodles]

Im imagining a Pumpkin-spider symbiote arc and im getting so silly with it :3

[todayisafridaynight]

i see you are a fear and hunger fan. Injecting my brainwaves onto you

ouuugghhh these branwaves make me want pretzel sticks.....

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

[victory-cookies]

I hope my uncle follows through on giving me his xbox bc I’d really love to give bg3 a try fr

[itgetzweird08]

“Damn- already Bakugo? The movie isn’t even over!”

Denki whined, grabbing the remote to pause the comedy that was playing on the tv. It was movie night in the dorms, a way for the class to bond and decompress after classes. Everyone was huddled together, wrapped in blankets and sharing snacks. All accept Bakugo, who scowled at his yellow haired friend.

“It’s my bed time. I’ll see you nerds in the morning.” Denki huffed, crossing his arms as he muttered about Bakugo’s old man behavior. But Kirishima smiled, giving him a short wave and a “sleep well Baku-bro!”. The rest of the class also sent their goodnight wishes as Bakugo headed to his room.

It was only 8:30, which was a bit early even for Bakugo. He usually headed to bed around 9, but tonight was special.

When he got to his room, he locked his door and walked to his mirror, making sure his hair was to his liking and that there was no popcorn in his teeth. When he caught himself fretting over his appearance, he rolled his eyes and scoffed, wiping his sweaty palms on his jogging pants. ‘The fuck am I worried for? It’s just a Skype call’. And while he was right, it was just a call, it was a call with /you/.

You and Bakugo had been dating long distance for the past year and a half.

You met at the I-island convention, where you two got into a friendly competition at one of the challenges. After you managed to beat him at his own game, he recruited Mina to find you on social media. Anyone who could beat him was special..and it didn’t hurt that you were gorgeous to boot. However, his heart sank when he found out that you didn’t live in Japan. Still, he decided to follow and dm you anyways..which you promptly answered. The two of you have been talking non stop ever since.

What was just messaging turned into calling, then FaceTiming, to full on movie nights where you would count down to try and start the movie at the same time. And while it was inconvenient, it was fun. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Which is why he was always promptly on time for your calls. You had both been busy that week, so you weren’t able to talk as much as you normally did, which is why you scheduled the call. With the time difference, you would be slowly waking up to get ready for school while he was going to bed. He was able to tell you about his day, while he watched you get ready for yours.

The time difference was a hard challenge to navigate, but you made it work. Talking to eachother was the high light of both of your days. You loved seeing his face and hearing his voice, even if it was virtual and he loved the same. You were both very meticulous in nature as well, making sure that your times were aligned to get the most out of your talks as possible. That way, it always felt like enough.

And while it would be nice to hold him, to see his face in person, to kiss him..this was enough for now.

Bakugo hopped into his bed, plugging up his phone before pressing call and waiting for you to answer. And when you did, he was met with sleepy eyes and a warm smile. He could’ve sworn his heart was doing actual backflips.

“Hi Kats..”

“Morning dumbass”

You smiled at him, your heart fluttering at his teasing. And just by seeing your smile he knew, that until he could get to you, this would be enough for him.

——————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

[choerypetal]

Meet and Greet / Homelander

summary: Homelander had never experienced an obsession before, nor was he even familiar with the term until he met you at the meet and greet, where you were dressed in a recognizable blue costume.

*Pt-2!! read after this one— *

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors, xo"

Everyone knew that Homelander wouldn't hesitate to admit his obsession with you. His drive to be the best was deeply ingrained in his mind, and during a meeting with the Seven, your image lingered in his thoughts. Fortunately, he managed to hide these distractions before Ashley could express her concerns about the upcoming show—a significant one, especially since Homelander knew you would be attending with your family. He always knows. 

And he was right. Your parents, being big fans of the Seven, never wanted to miss a single annual show. This meant you had to tag along. "Come on, you have to wear it! Make Homelander proud," your mother insisted, holding up a superhero costume made in your exact size. Make Homelander proud. You sighed, wanting to object, but your attempt to call your mother's name was drowned out by the loud music in the store and an overly enthusiastic clerk who repeatedly asked if you were satisfied with your find. She was also wearing a costume, though not Homelander's, which made you suspect there would be more than just Homelander present that day.  

Fortunately, you weren't the only one wearing the costume you had put on for your mother, making it easier to blend into the crowd. However, this also made it easier for Homelander to spot you as soon as he stepped on stage. With Ashley having access to the ticket records, finding your last name had been a simple task. His eyes remained fixed on the screen the moment your name appeared, and he mouthed your entire name just as Ashley's voice startled him, reminding him it was time to go on stage. 

“Welcome! How lovely you all are!” he announced in his typical rehearsed tone. He was growing increasingly annoyed; the whole theatrical aspect bored him. Why couldn't the Deep handle it today? Or even someone new, while he sat in the back, scrutinizing every silhouette to find yours. It wasn’t difficult either, given that your parents had ensured you got the best seats. His lips curled into a sly smirk. Bingo, he thought. It still surprised him that, even without knowing your face, the name matched his expectations perfectly. He had to know. He was the Homelander after all. He knew everything. 

Luckily he managed to let out of his usual monologue, with the new recruits being presented today, it let him more time in his hands. And that also meant, seeking out for you when he had the chance. 

The show concluded as expected, with your mother delighted to see her favorite hero on stage and your dad eager to meet Starlight again. During the ongoing meet-and-greet, Homelander couldn’t help but observe your every move. Despite your apparent boredom, the fact that you were wearing a costume identical to his caught his attention. He couldn't deny that you looked incredibly sexy, and he fantasized about having his hands around your waist, hearing your moans, and you begging for more. 

“Sir,” Ashley’s voice broke through his thoughts, catching him off guard and irritating him since it meant he couldn't keep watching you. After all, as Homelander, he was doing the city justice by ensuring your safety. Right? “It’s time for your meet-and-greet,” she reminded him. With a knowing nod, he indicated he would be right there. Little did you know, you were one of the few fans waiting in line to meet him. 

He wasn't entirely wrong. Once again, your mother had requested you to take a picture with him. You always wondered why she couldn't do it herself, citing being 'just shy,' but deep down you knew the real reason was that she wanted to see her own daughter with the man she fantasized about. Unlike her, you weren't a fan of superheroes and their inflated egos. Yet, here you were, waiting in line between a family and two fangirling girls. 

“Thank you, and have a wonderful day. God Bless you!” he said, flashing a wide grin as he ruffled the boy’s hair after taking pictures. In just a few minutes, you would be up next, and you were acutely aware of it. He, too, was counting the people in line, noting your silhouette emerging behind a tall man. The way the outfit hugged your curves and the cape flowed on your back caught his eye. Oh how he wanted to fuck you right there. He wanted to have you all wrapped around his finger. And he knew exactly how to get you, if only Ashley was there. 

As you neared the photo booth, you reluctantly acknowledged that despite your aversion to heroes, Homelander possessed an undeniable allure. Whether it was his striking blue eyes or his impeccably groomed hair, you couldn't quite determine. “Next,” the disinterested employee called out, mirroring the lack of enthusiasm you had felt upon arriving at the show. Barely glancing at you, they scratched the bottom of your ticket and directed you toward Homelander. It was then that you made eye contact with him for the first time, and he couldn't look away.

"Hello, dear," he greeted you formally, like everyone else, but his tone made him stand out. His fingers gently rested on your waist, pulling you close until there was no space between you. "Say cheese!" the photographer prompted, but Homelander, true to form, knew more than just posing for a picture. "Nah, let me get my best side, will you?" he interjected, subtly extending your time together. The photographer hesitated, eyeing the remaining fans in line, but Homelander paid no attention. With a soft scoff, he leaned closer and murmured in your ear, his voice almost a whisper of a threat, yet his lips curved into a smile when he glanced down at you. "Loving the costume," he added with a quick smile for the camera. His charisma left you breathless, and he noticed you weren't ready for the picture.

His comment caught you off guard, and the way he leaned closer only added to your unease. Sensing your muscles tense at his touch, he directed the photographer to take another shot. The photographer, aware of the waiting line, was hesitant, but Homelander insisted. "We don’t want this beautiful lady to go home with a bad photo now, do we?" That damn bastard, the photographer likely thought, as you glanced at him hesitantly. He glanced at the line, sighed deeply, and the resignation in his eyes mirrored your own thoughts.

Homelander, on the other hand, relished the opportunity to keep you wrapped around his finger for as long as he desired. If he had the courage, or if your parents weren’t around, he might have invited you to join the Seven. But he knew better than anyone that he had to make a good impression. "Say cheese," the photographer repeated, his voice now tinged with boredom. You noticed the tension in Homelander’s jaw as he clenched it. He glanced at you, a smile playing on his lips, before glaring at the photographer, which was enough to make the poor man gulp silently and mirror the same grin.

And that's where his obsession took hold completely. The scent of your perfume, the way your hair was immaculately styled into a neat ponytail, and your lightly applied blush with rosy plum lips—all were irresistible to him. He couldn't deny that your lips were the most enticing he'd ever seen. His fingers now traced the leather of your Homelander costume, appreciating how it hugged your curves perfectly. Oh, how he...

“Done!” The photographer's almost relieved voice snapped John back to reality. Despite maintaining his composure during the photo session, his thoughts had wandered to fantasies of you. He imagined you beneath him, taking his cock so well, one hand firmly massaging your breast, his lips eagerly seeking the fresh milk oozing from your nipples. And you... so vulnerable, so petite around him, begging for more...

From that day on, Homelander never missed an opportunity to see your face again. It seemed almost too good to be true when he later had the chance to meet your mother and requested that you accompany her more often to their annual shows. He promised to show his appreciation, hinting that he would return the favor very soon.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

I adore P.S I Still Wait For you and hope you've found some writing time bc in dying for an update 😍😍😍

I'm paranoid about missing it since I don't get an AO3 reminder - I'm popping on here during one of my periodic checks 😂

You are so sweet 🥺❤️🥺❤️!!!!

I’ve been stupidly busy irl work wise so no chance to write anything, but I will tag you when I do post it, ok? Maybe next weekend!