#You’re right that it’s not scary at first

[fatherbrat]

SESSION ONE: TOUCH & SHUSH, S. GOJO

sum. part 1 of the lessons learned series. you have a hard time concentrating during the final thirty minutes of your first tutoring session. not to worry! your new tutor knows just how to keep your attention.

feat. satoru gojo

cw. tutor!gojo, fem reader, physics/math/calculus mentions, fingering in public (the campus library), hold the moan, mdni

wc. 2.4k

You’ve been trying to beat Satoru Gojo for three years.

It started in high school, when he snuck past you on the class rankings during the first semester of your final year, stealing that valedictorian title right from under your nose. You hadn’t even known to be looking out for him. His GPA seemed to have shot up out of nowhere.

It felt like someone had knocked you off a winding staircase just as you were about to reach the top.

Even now, in your third year of university, you have yet to best him. You weren’t aware that Gojo was going to the same school as you after high school, but it felt like the universe was giving you a chance to seek a little revenge.

However, with less than four semesters until graduation, it’s looking like you’ll be second fiddle to Gojo for the rest of your life. There isn’t even a word that can convey how fucking humiliating that is for you. Your friends think it’s dramatic of you to say you’d rather die, but you’ve never been more serious about anything else in your whole life.

It’s a nearly failed physics exam that ends up being your final straw. Well, “nearly failed” is a bit of an exaggeration. You got a B. But B’s don’t beat Satoru Gojo. It’s that thought that makes you finally sign up for a one-on-one tutoring session—one of the pricier ones that all but guarantees you’ll get perfect grades for the rest of the semester.

You fidget in your seat, glancing towards the library entrance every time someone enters. The table you picked is on the second floor, tucked away in a corner with a perfect view of the double doors downstairs.

It’s not very quiet. You would have preferred a session at a time when the library was a bit more deserted, but the only appointment slots available were during peak hours. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Your fingers toy with the corners of your exam—four pages of questions and too many markings made with red ink. They freeze when a familiar somebody enters the building, his eyes scanning the first floor like he’s looking for someone.

Satoru Gojo is wearing gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He tugs his wired earbuds out of his ears and pushes his sunglasses up onto his head as he stands and searches.

You sink into your seat, not wanting him to notice you. It’s bad enough you have to pay someone to help you beat him. You don’t need the added shame of your rival knowing how far you're going just to outdo him.

But it’s almost like that very movement alerts him to your presence. His head jerks up suddenly and he finds you, peering through the railing with those scary blue eyes. A crooked grin stretches across his face and he immediately rushes up the staircase, skipping steps on his way up. 

You sink further, hoping he doesn’t come straight to you. But of course, he does. 

Gojo puts his hands on the opposite end of your table, his knees hitting the modesty panel that hangs down.

“Hey you,” he says, all too familiar, acting like you’re longtime friends. “Whatcha doin’?”

You motion towards the spread of study materials on the table. “What does it look like?”

“Well, it looks like you’re just studying. But from down there–” he juts his chin in the direction of the front door downstairs–“it looked like you were waiting for someone.”

You frown, fingers pattering along the bottom of your graded exam. “I’m not waiting for anything. I’m studying.”

Gojo comes around to your side of the table and sits next to you, dumping his bag onto the surface. “You sure? I thought we had an appointment.” He holds his phone up in front of his face and squints at it. Your stomach drops. “You said you needed help in physics. Specifically…electromagnetism?” He puts his phone on the table, smiling. “Or was that not you?”

You put your head in your hands, cursing the universe for giving you the worst luck in the world. Of course, he gets assigned to be your tutor. You didn’t even know he was tutoring. 

“There’s no fucking way,” you mumble into your palms.

Gojo tilts his head and pokes your arm. “Is something wrong?”

You take in one deep breath. And then another. And then lay your hands flat on the table.

“You’re my tutor?” you ask.

“Sure am,” Gojo says, putting his arm on the back of your chair.

You groan and your phone vibrates. You’ve just unlocked your phone when Gojo plucks it out of your hands. 

“We only have an hour and a half,” he says, before his eyes catch the words on the screen and he smirks. You wince and reach across him, but those long limbs keep you at bay as he scrolls through the new messages in your group chat.

“Baddie baddie shot o’clock,” he mutters, reading the name of the group off the top of the screen.

“Give that back,” you say, smacking his arm. He just keeps reading.

You know the last few messages you sent were about him. And you know any conversation about him always ends up…kind of thirsty. (You’re not blind! He may be a pain in your ass but he’s also fine as hell.) Whatever he’s reading must be stroking his ego.

You watch him put your phone on do not disturb and then lay it down on the opposite end of the table, out of arm’s reach. When he turns to look at you he’s got his eyebrows raised.

“You and your friends are funny,” he says, obviously trying not to laugh. 

You sigh and wave your test in the air. “Just help me with this.”

Gojo shifts into teaching mode, still looking vaguely amused, but offering notes and corrections on your exam and the notes you’ve taken yourself. It surprises you how good he is at this. That air of cockiness is still there, but he’s genuinely helpful. It surprises you further when he pulls out a practice sheet.

“You’re struggling with this because you don’t have a good grasp on vector calculus,” he says, tapping on the worksheet with the end of his pen. 

You groan. He’s right, but no amount of office hours or YouTube videos have helped. This was your last hope.

But the two of you have already been at it for an hour and your focus is dwindling. Your mind wanders, wondering what your friends are talking about, what’s happening on your Twitter timeline, what you should get for dinner. Your fingers twitch and you glance at your phone, face-down on Gojo’s side of the table.

He pockets it, shaking his head a little. “Don’t tell me you're getting restless already.” He makes a big show of extending his arm so that his sleeve moves up a little, exposing his watch. “We only have half an hour left.” He pokes your temple. “You can make it.”

A heavy sigh escapes you, but you refocus on the paper in front of you. Gojo grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls you closer to him, until your seat clangs against his and he can lean over your shoulder. 

You stare at the top of the page until your eyes unfocus. Would it be rude to end the session early? You’d hate to not get your money’s worth, but God this stuff was so mind-numbing. You look around the library, leg bouncing.

Gojo’s hand lands on your thigh and you pause.

When you glance at him he just taps the paper. “Focus. Vector fields first.”

You blink and get back to your worksheet, not moving his hand.

He starts circling his thumb on your skin. “Vector fields are just functions,” he explains, pointing at a formula written in bold at the top of the page. “Look, there’s an example.”

You scan the example graph and the explanation below it, striving to absorb the information. Gojo’s hand shifts higher, his fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your skirt. When you raise your eyebrow at him, he just stares right back.

“I read your texts,” he reminds you.

You try to recall exactly what you said in there. Something nasty about him, for sure. You eye the ceiling, trying to remember.

Gojo squeezes your leg, drawing your attention back. “I’ll give you a phone break if you can answer the first two without help.”

You yearn for your phone, so you nod and pick up your pencil.

It doesn’t take you long to finish the questions, but you think Gojo spends longer than necessary reviewing your work. 

He pulls your phone out of his pocket and you practically leap into his lap for it. 

You’re fully occupied with catching up and responding to messages until he tucks his hand into the waistband of your skirt. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, still tapping away.

You know what he’s doing. The first thing you did when you got your phone back was check which texts he read. 

you #that man just walked in

Thing 1 what if he’s ur tutor lolll

you i’ll jump off the roof rn

Thing Two shiiii he can teach ME show me how to ride that dick sir!

you ur nasty

Thing 1 you literally sent us a message abt his bulge yesterday

you … touché

Gojo hums. “You can tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You spread your knees further apart so he can have better access and do a quick sweep of the floor with your eyes. The two of you are in a corner and there’s a modesty panel on the table, but still…

“Relax,” he whispers, his lips just brushing your ear. “Nobody’s gonna see. Just act natural.”

It’s hard to “act natural” when someone’s hand is between your legs in a crowded library, but you try your best. Your phone vibrates in your hand and you resume scrolling. Gojo pinches your clit through your underwear.

You toss him a hard glare and he deliberately avoids eye contact, looking up and around and acting oblivious.

“Break time’s over,” he says suddenly, pulling your panties to the side at the same time.

“Wha-”

“Fifteen minutes left of your session,” he says, sliding one long finger inside your cunt. “Let’s make it count.”

Your brain stutters. Make what count? There’s no way he expects you to pay attention to any kind of lesson while he’s doing…that.

“You okay?” he asks, slowly dragging his finger out of your pussy only to add another one. He points at the bottom of your worksheet with his free hand. “One more of these and then we can review line integrals.”

This guy’s fucking insane.

You shift a bit, sitting up in your seat to concentrate on the task at hand. Gojo takes your phone again, but you hardly notice. 

When you complete the problem he makes a sound of approval and takes out another worksheet. “See it’s not that bad. Line integrals now.”

He points at a figure in the middle of the page as he stuffs a third finger up your already-full cunt. “Line integrals are used to calculate the work done by a force on a moving object. But if you take this curved line and-”

Everything he’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. You’re nodding along, trying to look composed and natural as he fingers you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you have to resist the urge to shut your eyes.

“It’s just like line integration in scalar fields,” Gojo continues. He sounds excited. You’d like to think it’s because he really likes this advanced calculus, but it’s probably just because he can tell you’re getting close.

He presses the pad of his thumb onto your clit and a full-body shudder rolls through you. He smiles wide, still lecturing. You exhale gently, careful to not let a moan slip as you grip the edge of the table.

He stops talking in the middle of a sentence about arc length, but his fingers never slow. You watch as he checks the time and frowns. 

“Oh no,” he murmurs, sounding disappointed. He turns to face you, taking in your widened eyes and barely parted lips. “Our hour and a half is over.” He pouts. “I’ll finish up, mkay.”

He thumbs your clit again, increasing the speed of his fingers. “Here,” he says, leaning into you. “Bite my shoulder when you come. And try not to make any noise, yeah?”

He’s so conceited, you think. But before you can say something snarky, he buries his fingers knuckles-deep again, pressing them up against that spot inside you that makes you clamp down on his shoulder, tears pricking your eyes as your orgasm hits you harder than expected.

It takes all your effort to hold back your moans as you pulse around Gojo’s fingers. He chuckles a little, letting you catch your breath before he pulls his hand away. You stop biting him and slouch in your seat, reaching down to readjust your skirt and underwear in a way that’s subtle.

Gojo sucks your slick off of his hands, releasing each finger from his mouth with a pop sound. You scrunch up your nose at him, irked at the unnecessary noise. You exerted so much energy to stay silent and here he goes.

“So we’re done?” you ask, blinking away the tears that formed when you came.

“Yep,” he answers, nodding. “Just finish up those worksheets before next week and make sure you take notes in class. I’ll make sure you’re all set for midterms.” He winks.

You start to put your things away, closing your laptop and notebooks.

“By the way,” Gojo says, standing up, “this has been my favorite tutoring session I’ve done so far.”

You just roll your eyes, the smallest of smiles tugging on your lips. 

He places your phone on the table and swings his backpack over his shoulder. “And see if you can reserve one of the private study rooms for next time.”

He pins you with a knowing look before spinning around, long legs striding towards the staircase.

If you know tutoring went like this, you would have signed up sooner.

a/n. all the physics math stuff i got from the uc berkeley website and khan academy so...thanks to them lmfao. (or yk, blame them if it's wrong)

taglist. @megumisthirdog @chaccomiya @hellokittyish @ash--007 @gojoakgae @bunnisthings @ourfinalisation @levislug @inlove-maze @tobiodoll @iwaizumisloverrr @kentogetsmewetter @newdruid @cocoamide @y34rnf0rcc @missthatgirl @shutuppeter @skyshadowsworld @usbrous @cherryredribbons @lolitamermaid123 @kinnimi @aerareads @billiondollarworth @sillymortalblob @vadiatree @kachntos @www-sanrioslut-com you must have an age indicator in your bio to be added to the taglist

[coffee-and-geto]

THE SPACE YOU LEFT BEHIND

“Will you stay with me?” It’s like a wish waiting to be granted. “Forever.”

pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer! reader

summary: indeed, after suguru has defected, you’ve been trying to heal yourself and to not loose your mind. but healing ourselves is always harder than helping others, isn’t it? but don’t forget the goal of a sorcerer: protect humans at the risk of your life. and sometimes, death is closer that we think it is.

warnings: heavy angst, injuries, mention of death, blood, depression, eating disorder, pinning, mention of vomit, mention of cigarettes, mei mei, nanami & shoko make and appearance, mention of yaga, the lion king movie mentionned, jujutsu sorcerers’ life sucks, the story takes shape after suguru's defection, bittersweet/happy ending.

wc: 5,039

When you committed to the world of exorcism after middle school, you hadn’t realized just how much you had underestimated the darker sides of this life, where exorcists dedicate their lives to protecting humans — the primary source of the curses’ existence.

Suguru was right, wasn’t he?

It’s because of them that your classmates died. It’s also their fault that your best friend deserted school after massacring an entire village during a mission.

That put an end to all the memories you cherished so dearly, kept, and illustrated in a diary.

Sunny afternoons after class, eating ice cream with your friends Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru. The setting sun signaling the end of a fulfilling day, leading into sleepless nights of sleepovers, where Satoru brought piles of sweets ready to infest your mouths with cavities as Suguru told scary stories about his hometown.

Or shopping days with Shoko, dragging the two boys along to test makeup products on them — the ones you’d never buy considering their outrageous prices.

Or those dangerous missions where you hunted curses, tracking them down to uphold your values: protecting the weak to maintain order and peace.

Such a beautiful motto, isn’t it?

A motto meant to help you, guide you, and support you so you wouldn’t lose sight of your goals.

So why did it fail so much that your once-beloved diary now sits open on your desk, collecting dust since the last time you opened it — not to add a new memory, but rather to look at the last ones you wrote.

Suguru’s departure left a void far more significant and meaningful than you had expected, didn’t it?

Life feels duller. The sky no longer seems as sunny — replaced by a grayish one, heavy with dark clouds threatening storms that mirror your emotions. If you had no tears left to cry, the rain would suffice to push you into your room after classes and missions, both as exhausting as your mind, consumed by draining thoughts.

The silence left by Suguru’s absence is far louder than all the times you screamed into his voicemail after he stopped responding to you. Of course, eventually, you gave up. Not out of choice.

Simply because he had blocked you.

And when changing SIM cards proved futile, you quickly realized through the automatic response that the number you sought was no longer in service.

It felt like all your regrets had come crashing down at once. But in truth, they had only arrived right on time.

If you had helped Suguru the way he needed, he wouldn’t have left. 

He wouldn’t have been condemned.

You wouldn’t have stopped eating, stopped living your life the way you were told you should, or started losing your friends one by one.

Suguru was the first.

Shoko isn’t the second. The brunette seems to hold up much better — although the number of cigarettes she smokes daily has doubled — she doesn’t withdraw into herself the way you do. So, you’re sure you won’t lose her... right?

And as for Satoru… Will he be the next to leave, one way or another?

Or will it be you?

Either way, you’re losing yourselves. It’s been a while since you stopped keeping track of how long it’s been since you last saw Satoru after Suguru’s departure.

Mr. Yaga confirmed that he hadn’t assigned him a single mission — the situation critical, delicate, and as fragile as a flower filled with poison that could make The Strongest falter at the slightest misstep or careless move.

He could very well be dead, and no one would know.

“So… you haven’t heard from him either?” Nanami murmurs, his deep, low voice almost swallowed by the muddy ground and heavy rain that poured as much as your overwhelmed mind.

You shake your head. “Not a single sign of life,” you mumble with the tip of your lips.

The two of you are on your way back to the school after a long mission assigned by your teacher, Yaga. It took you the entire day, but at least your mind feels lighter, despite the constant fatigue weighing on your shoulders like the weight of the world.

As the rain falls harder on you both, Nanami takes the initiative to open his black umbrella, holding it over your head as you stare at your mud-stained shoes.

“Almost three weeks.”

Your friend’s voice sounds distant, like hearing someone underwater.

Your head jerks up. “Hmm?”

“He hasn’t been out in almost three weeks,” Nanami repeats, his gaze fixed straight ahead. The crunching of your shoes and his on the gravel fills the silence before he continues. “Yaga gave him some time, but it’s getting harder to assign missions to others who are on Satoru’s level, you know.”

You don’t react to his words. Of course, he’s right.

Just as he’s wrong.

While Satoru’s behavior of shutting himself away without contact for so long isn’t responsible, his reasons remain entirely valid.

He just lost someone dear to him.

So, can you blame him?

But perhaps it’s time to bring your friend back, even if it means risking losing him — and yourself — in the process.

~~~~

You knock three times on Satoru’s dorm door.

A dead silence answers you.

You try again.

The same response.

So, you try the handle, testing whether it’s locked. However, it gives way under your hand, and a moment later, you step through the doorway into an unrecognizable environment.

Indeed, your best friend’s room — usually adorned with decorations and elements that so vividly reflected Satoru’s lively personality — is now unrecognizable. The windows, typically allowing sunlight to flood in and brighten the room, now shroud it in an ominous darkness. On the floor, clothes, likely dirty, are scattered at your feet. Satoru’s desk is covered in a visible layer of dust despite the dim light. And finally, on the bed you’ve always known, rests a long shape wrapped in thick blankets.

With his back turned to you, Satoru seems to be asleep from where you stand, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Even when you call his name, he doesn’t show any sign of awareness.

So, you close the door and kneel by the side of his bed.

“Satoru?” you murmur, placing a gentle hand on a shoulder covered by your friend’s indigo comforter.

The slight shiver running through him proves he’s very much awake.

But was his mind equally present?

“Satoru, were you sleeping?” you ask, shaking him carefully.

He doesn’t respond, not even with a gesture.

Your throat tightens in the face of a situation you’ve never had to face with him before.

How do you help someone who’s in the same situation as you?

In fact, it’s even worse.

Satoru is Suguru’s other half. Their symbiotic relationship always stopped you from seeing further with Satoru, leaving you questioning what he truly felt for Suguru. Because deep down, you knew you didn’t stand a chance. You’d never hold a place as important as Suguru’s in Satoru’s heart.

So, you chose to fill the void in your heart with love for him. It’s far from enough, but you’d rather not dwell on it. Unrequited love always ends this way, doesn’t it?

You straighten up just enough to lie down on the small remaining space on Satoru’s bed, carefully rubbing your friend’s arm to avoid startling him while offering the overflow of affection that aches to be reciprocated but, for now, can only warm the albino.

You don’t dare complain about the stale smell in the room, prioritizing Satoru’s comfort above all else. You drape your arm around him as he breathes in and out with a shaky rhythm, ignoring the cold of the room that freezes you just as much as the rain from earlier did.

Perhaps half an hour passes. 

Maybe an hour. 

Or more. 

Or even just ten minutes.

The oppressive silence of the room quickly catches up to the sleep deprivation you so desperately need to cure. The cold vanishes. In the end, it doesn’t matter, right?

The only thing that matters is having Satoru in your arms, no matter what, his back pressed securely against you as your breaths synchronize, and your heartbeats merge in a way you’ve always dreamed of.

But when you flutter your eyes open, the absence of cold is quickly replaced by body warmth. Satoru’s thick comforter is draped over you, and his body is pressed against yours.

But what strikes you most is that he’s no longer facing away.

Satoru, his eyelids closed, breathes softly and slowly, the shadow of haunted dark circles staining his angelic face.

You’re about to sit up when Satoru, still without opening his eyes, slides a hand over your arm.

“Don’t move,” he mumbles.

And his raspy voice nearly gives you a heart attack.

There’s only one way for someone to have that effect.

And more than anything, the slight swelling and redness of Satoru’s pale eyelids confirm your suspicions.

Resting your head back onto the pillow, your forehead lightly brushes against Satoru’s.

“Can you look at me?” Your lips move in a near-inaudible whisper.

Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head.

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Satoru,” you insist, maintaining the same melancholic gentleness.

So you take the initiative to slowly raise your hands, bringing them toward his soft face to gently lift his eyelids. But what you see causes a crack in your heart, one akin to the shattering of ice under the raw heat of fire.

A small, wet pearl escapes from one of his eyes, deliberately rolling down his cheek, crossing his nose, and vanishing at the corner of his mouth.

Without a word, Satoru opens his eyes, and the embodiment of pain meets your distressed gaze.

His cerulean irises, usually alive with mischief, are as dark as an abyssal chasm. It’s as though a curse itself has taken hold of his gaze, condemning anyone who dares to meet his bloodshot eyes.

Your eyebrows slowly knit together, and with your heart already shattered, you decide to wrap your arms around him, pulling an unrecognizable Satoru against you as his chest releases a trembling breath and your neck grows damp from the occasional drops of warmth falling from his face.

“I’m here,” you mutter in his ear. “I’m here no matter what.”

Your eyelids close slowly, letting the tears you’d held back finally roll down your own cheeks.

Once again, perhaps ten minutes, half an hour, or even the entire afternoon passes before you finally decide to sit up, gently pulling an exhausted Satoru into your arms.

And to your surprise, he allows it.

You help him stand, supporting him with an arm around his body despite the height difference, and guide him to the bathroom. The decision had been made a while ago, even if your consciousness hadn’t fully caught up. After all, you would have wanted someone to do the same for you.

But aren’t we always better at caring for others than for ourselves?

Without protest — even though the idea of seeing Satoru naked might have made you blush last month — immersing him in the warm bath you’ve carefully prepared doesn’t feel as awkward as you’d expected. You’ve never seen him without at least his boxers, so out of respect, you avert your eyes as the poor boy settles into the hot water.

You grab a bottle of shampoo lying around in Satoru’s bathroom, squeezing out a small amount to wash his angelic hair. Despite having likely neglected his hygiene as much as you have lately, your friend is in desperate need of someone to care for him.

Satoru, his eyes still closed, seems almost asleep under your slow, gentle, and careful movements.

It looks like you’re washing a real dead man.

But perhaps part of him has been dead ever since Suguru left? Perhaps a piece of him vanished the moment Suguru was gone?

The faint hum vibrating from Satoru’s lips reassures you that he’s still conscious. You take it as a good sign that he’s relaxing. Your nails softly scratch his scalp, and he lets out a low groan of satisfaction. The foam grows thicker as you continue to massage Satoru’s head.

You rinse the shampoo from his hair with warm water, droplets trickling down his perfect face.

One of those droplets slides just below his eye, so imperceptibly that you wonder if you’d have noticed it at all if you weren’t gazing at his face with almost religious reverence.

Using a washcloth, you pick up Satoru’s body wash this time, lathering it across his skin, applying slightly more pressure to tense areas in need of a soothing massage. Soft sighs escape his nose, signaling that you can continue without bothering him.

After several massages where you pay special attention to certain spots, you fetch a robe, wrapping it around Satoru’s now-clean body. He’s like new, more ready now to hold onto a semblance of consciousness.

But one thing that strikes you is that Satoru, despite being entirely naked and in such a vulnerable state of weakness, allowed you to care for him without opening his eyes even once.

With a faint, gentle smile, you guide Satoru back to his room, grabbing some clean, comfortable clothes for him while he collapses onto his bed under the weight of the world on his shoulders. You help him into each piece of clothing, his body too weak to move as usual, almost lifeless. Then, you lead him to your room, crossing the school’s corridors so he can rest in the clean and organized space you’ve managed to create after pulling yourself together following your own depressive episode of endless, self-destructive days.

Your room is a true haven — tidy, clean, and orderly.

And so your freshly made bed with its crisp sheets seems to call to Satoru. The softness of the mattress cradles him as you drape your immaculate comforter over him.

Like laying a deceased loved one to rest in their coffin, Satoru keeps his eyes closed, his face void of expression, yet with a weariness that seems to have lifted ever so slightly.

~~~~

“How long?”

“I already told you.”

“Liar.”

Satoru pushes the food tray toward you, the arm of the mechanical table brushing against your torso. “I’m not hungry anyway.”

You sigh, the exhaustion of the past few days weighing on you like a heavy, unpleasant rain.

“First of all, you just got back from a mission where you were inches from dying if Shoko hadn’t been there. Second, you refuse to tell me how long it’s been since you’ve eaten — unless it’s been a month — and now you’re saying you’re not hungry?”

Satoru, lying under the pristine white sheets of his infirmary bed, simply turns his head away. It’s as if he’s acting like a machine. 

Mechanical movements, curt responses, and barely any signs of life.

During one of the recent missions assigned to him by Principal Yaga after weeks of absence, Satoru resumed his routine. He sleeps, does his missions, and returns to sleep in his room. Ever since you took the time to clean and organize his room, you haven’t exchanged more than a sentence. The only memory that still haunts you is the blood-red hue of Satoru’s eyes that night in his room.

The void left by Suguru has wreaked havoc.

And while you’ve managed to patch yourself up — or so you think — you’re now trying to help your friend in need. But how do you help someone who refuses to speak?

“And ‘I don’t know’ isn’t an answer,” you add in the face of his silence, rubbing your face, which feels warmer than usual. Perhaps it’s the heat of the room? December is a month where illness comes quickly. But it’s nothing, you reassure yourself.

“You’re flushed.”

“I know.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

Both of you avert your gaze, equally annoyed and concerned with one another.

“When was the last time you even slept? You spend more time watching over my sleep and my meals than looking at yourself in a mirror. You look like a Halloween costume.”

Ouch.

You glance at your reflection in the mirror near the nurse’s desk, and despite Satoru’s harsh words, your state seems even worse than his.

You’ve lost weight lately. The dark hollows under your eyes mirror your grueling schedule, where you spend most of your day juggling missions, watching over Satoru, and helping the school with any task.

Like an escape, you’ve found any excuse to avoid being alone. Especially with yourself.

But isn’t that exactly what Suguru did? The poor guy had no one to talk to, and the one time he tried, you thought he was just exhausted from swallowing curses. That was when he broke down and sobbed in front of you.

The memory alone stings your eyes. And unfortunately for you, you’re not in any shape to hold back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You stand abruptly, turning your head away to avoid showing the cracks in your courageous facade to your best friend.

“Eat. I have a mission in half an hour. I’ll be back tonight.”

As you slip out of the infirmary, Satoru painfully sit up in his bed, opening his mouth to call after you, to say something. Anything. His words were harsh and cruel, while you’ve been patient with him, caring for him more than for yourself.

But he hates it.

Because you only remind him of what Suguru used to do. When he felt terrible, Suguru helped him despite his own pain, despite wanting to vomit up the curses he’d consumed or even die. Suguru cared about his appetite, just as you do now with Satoru. The same with his sleep, his recklessness during missions.

So he doesn’t want to lose you, at the risk of dying a second time.

~~~~

That same evening, you don’t return.

And Satoru notices immediately, because at bedtime, around 10 PM, you usually stop by his room — even more so now that he’s in the infirmary.

Missions take time. So Satoru reassures himself, thinking that you simply took longer and that by the next morning, you’d be by his side to check on him. He would apologize. He’d ask for forgiveness and try to understand the reason behind the instability in your voice before you left earlier.

Did he hurt you that much?

His train of thought is interrupted by urgent voices barking orders, and Shoko putting on her apprentice doctor’s coat as she grabs a spell manual on her way out, meeting Satoru’s confused gaze.

And he understands immediately who it’s about.

Despite his still weakened state and his inability to perform Reverse Curse Technique for some time now, Satoru pulls on his exorcist uniform, leaving his sunglasses on the bedside table, and follows Shoko and the team of medics heading toward a school car. But he swiftly grabs Shoko’s wrist.

If something happened to you, taking a stupid car would only lead to a certain death.

With a gaze as panicked as it is void, Satoru questions his friend.

“Mei Mei went to check on what happened,” Shoko murmurs gravely. “The mission was simple. She should’ve been back over five hours ago.” She points to the time on her watch.

1:20 AM.

Did he fall asleep while lost in thought? How had so much time passed since he noticed your absence earlier that night?

“And you think taking more time in this car is enough?” Satoru spits his words, his voice low but echoing nonetheless into the snowy night as flurries begin to fall around them. “Just tell me you want her dead now, then.”

Shoko glances at the waiting car.

“Then what do you suggest?” she asks, narrowing her eyes, scrutinizing her friend from head to toe before yanking her wrist back sharply. “Look at you. You can barely stand.”

“I can still teleport. You’re far more competent than these clowns,” Satoru replies in the same tone, grabbing her wrist again. “And let me remind you, we cannot lose her.” The warning in his voice sounds like a threat.

It’s only when Shoko finally relents that Satoru teleports them both after she gives him the location where Mei Mei last reported finding you. The pressure of the spell makes them feel like they’re being sucked through a narrow tube, or squeezed in a vice. When they finally arrive at your location, it’s with a pop sound, like a bubble bursting free.

Releasing Shoko’s wrist the very second they arrive, Satoru scans the surroundings — then freezes.

Mei Mei’s blue hair is bent over a body on the ground. In the dim light of the night, only the moon’s rays illuminate a pool resembling wine.

And Satoru would’ve prayed for it to be only wine.

He and Shoko rush toward Mei Mei, who steps aside to face them with a furrowed brow, her expression a foreboding omen.

“Internal bleeding,” she announces to Shoko.

The words ring like a gong in Satoru’s ears, now buzzing. His paralyzed body stands mere inches from you. Your half-closed eyes stare blankly into the void, your arms lying limply at your sides, and a streak of dried blood stains your cheek. Despite the presence of your friends, you don’t react.

Not even when Satoru says your name.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And as many times as it takes before Shoko and Mei Mei push him back, as he struggles to try to hold you in his arms, his hoarse voice cracking, begging you not to leave him.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Satoru Gojo, whose senses granted by his Six Eyes had long been dulled, awakens once again.

He hears your heart beating faintly. The pulse of your arteries, the successive waves of blood pushed by your struggling heart. Your shallow breaths slipping through damaged lungs. The warmth of your blood slowly leaking life away.

Please, no…

As long as it took for Satoru to recover a fraction of his powers, the same amount of time seems to pass while Shoko works quickly to stop your hemorrhaging.

He knows because he no longer hears the blood flowing out of your body. Your pulse has slowed, and though still weak, your heart beats with slightly more determination.

That determination, Satoru perceives as a flame.

A flame you refuse to let extinguish, because he knows you’re fighting not to pass on.

And if you no longer have the strength, Satoru will be the lighter forcing you to keep fighting. He will stay by your side as long as you need him.

And he will refuse to die a second time — unless it’s for you.

~~~~

A few days later.

The roles have reversed.

Satoru, fully recovered from his mission for a while now, devotes all his time to your care. He’s moved his belongings to the infirmary, where you remain recuperating. He insisted on pushing a bed right up against yours to monitor your sleep, your eating habits, and your overall well-being. 

Every movement you make is instantly picked up by his Six Eyes.

Your survival after your mission was nothing short of a miracle for Satoru.

A prayer he made — and one that was answered.

“You tired?” he asks softly, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His cerulean eyes linger on your still-fresh bandages, and a bitter pang squeezes at his heart.

You shake your head despite the telltale dark circles under your eyes. “I’m feeling better.”

“Bored?” he guesses then, raising an eyebrow slightly, his tone tinged with amusement. Is he planning something?

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Got something in mind?” you reply, curiosity sparking enough to make you want to laugh genuinely.

Lying beside you in his own infirmary bed pressed against yours, Satoru gently takes your hand in his. He lifts it to chest level, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. “I could put on a movie for us if you’d like…”

“What kind of movie? If you even think about suggesting that cursed Terrifier again, I swear I’ll strang—”

Satoru bursts into laughter at your disgusted expression. His chest shakes with every sound, lifting the weight of any lingering pain in his heart.

“I was thinking more along the lines of the new The Lion King movie,” he says with a mischievous grin.

“Mufasa, you mean?” Your face lights up for a moment. “But the movie has just been released,” you add, frowning slightly. “We can’t go anywhere.”

“Who said anything about going somewhere?” He wraps one long arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer just before planting a chaste kiss on your temple — a gesture that nearly makes your lungs give out.

Somehow, Satoru always manages to surprise you.

Despite the movie’s exclusive release at cinemas, half an hour later you find yourself watching it. 

Nestled against Satoru under some thicker blankets he brought, the two of you share snacks scattered across your laps. The only light in the infirmary is the soft glow of the film projector casting the movie onto a pristine wall.

Your cheek rests against Satoru’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat serving as the perfect lullaby to lull you to sleep. On top of that, his long fingers gently scratch your scalp, soothing you further into relaxation.

The moment feels so perfect you almost mistake it for a dream — but no.

Right now, it’s as if the depressive haze that had weighed down both you and Satoru has been blown away, replaced by a fleeting moment of happiness wrapped in the cocoon of this night.

Just like your feelings, the situation between you and Satoru is undefined and confusing. A shared closeness restored, mutual personal care, and a clear attachment to each other.

It seems like friendship, doesn’t it?

But then, why does your hand, resting on your friend’s chest, tremble at the thought of sliding around the back of his neck to pull him closer—close enough for your lips to finally meet his?

Feeling your trembling hand, Satoru shifts his attention away from the movie to look down at you. “Sweetheart?”

Your eyes meet his, drowning in the deep ocean of blue they hold.

With every passing second, you try to speak, to respond, to confess everything. To tell him everything. Yet, with your lips parted, all you can manage is a soft whisper:

“Nothing.”

~~~~

December 25th.

All of Tokyo Jujutsu High has gathered amidst the scents of warm food, the laughter of groups of friends, the unwrapping of gifts, and the feeling of family.

Yet, Satoru feels like something is missing.

This December 25th marks the first Christmas you, Shoko, and Satoru spend without Suguru.

So what’s the point of celebrating? What is Suguru doing right now? Is he spending such a special day all alone?

Alone, outside the school’s festive hall, Satoru stands bundled in a winter coat, snow as white as his hair delicately falling onto his frame. He’s leaning against a wall, as if that simple act could help him stay upright.

His throat tightens.

He wants Suguru back.

But he knows all too well that he won’t have him.

So Satoru doesn’t celebrate Christmas when the one source of his joy has vanished.

Inside the hall, you’re laughing wholeheartedly with a few friends, a glass of champagne in hand and a large scarf draped over your shoulders for warmth.

But amidst the small crowd, the one person who holds your heart is nowhere to be found.

Your smile slowly fades as your eyes frantically scan the room for Satoru. You excuse yourself hastily and begin to search — the hall, the restroom — before finally heading toward the door to the courtyard.

Almost sprinting, you step out into the biting December cold.

And there he is.

With measured steps, you move to stand beside him. He doesn’t budge, even as you gently wipe the dried tears from his face while he sniffles absentmindedly, his nose reddened by the sharp chill.

“Do you believe that he’s thinking of us right now?” Satoru murmurs, his voice rough and low.

“I’m sure of it,” you whisper softly in reply, pulling a tissue from your pocket and holding it to his nose so he can blow. A faint smile tugs at your lips as he thanks you with one last sniffle.

You’re about to put the tissue away when Satoru abruptly but tenderly pulls you into his arms, pressing you firmly against him.

“Satoru?” Your eyes search his, confused, as he leans his face as close to yours as possible, nearly sending your heart into overdrive when his long, slender nose brushes against yours.

“I love you,” he whispers, his tone carrying a small smile.

Those three little words leave you speechless, your lips parted in shock at the confession and the sincerity behind it.

It’s as if your entire being comes alive again, breaking free.

After so long without crying, it only takes those words to bring tears back to the surface. Salty streams trail down your cheeks as your face twists, trying to hold back sobs.

“I love you too,” you cry, your voice trembling all the same.

Satoru, his own smile tinged with fragility, wipes your face just as you did for him. His thumbs gently rub your cheeks in a bittersweet comfort.

And in a synchronized motion, your lips connect, pressing against each other with an intensity that makes your souls whirl like the wind does with the falling snow.

Every time your lips part to end a kiss or catch your breath, you find each other again in the next second, as if eternity had tried to keep you apart. The cold ceases to exist around you; the warmth of your finally united souls is enough to melt the ice that had formed within you since Suguru’s departure.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss to catch your breath, your eyes no longer shining with tears, but with love this time.

Neither of you pulls away from the closeness you share. Your bodies speak for you, the silence between you filled with mutual understanding.

Satoru clears his throat. “Will you stay with me?”

It’s like a wish waiting to be granted.

“Forever.”

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix @moonlitwitchdaisy

a/n: hello everyone :)) this fic was special to write thh. it’s the one that came out of an episode of impostor syndrome where i just wrote without thinking. i’d been wanting to write angst about satoru for a loooong time, so here it is :) (why do i secretly hope i’ve made all of you cry?). anyway, we can finally breathe after big exams! i’ve never looked forward to the christmas vacations as much as this year, lmao. take care of your little faces <3

reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3

[writingstreetspirit]

All I Want For Solstice, (Is You)

Summary: What could possibly be better than celebrating Winter Solstice with your family?

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Shit ton of fluff, sappy feelings, pregnancy

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: I hope this pieces was alright, I’d thought it be finished a lot earlier this December since I started writing it in November. But my cat unexpectedly became sick and had to be put down so I’ve been taking time to mourn his passing as well as getting back the energy to write again. Anyways, I hope you all will have a wonderful Winter Holiday however you’re celebrating!

—

“We’re going to be late!” You hurried down the stairs as fast as you could in your, although low but still, heels. Scanning eyes searched for your handbag while simultaneously putting on the earrings that Azriel gifted you for your last birthday.

Azriel came out from the kitchen, a gift bag with the presents for your friends in hand. “Maybe a little. The others can survive our absence for a few minutes. Remember last Winter Solstice? Cassian and Nesta didn’t arrive until more than half an hour after everyone else.”

You huffed a breathless chuckle, grabbing for one of the warmer formal coats on the clothing rack in the hallway. “Yeah, and they’ll never hear the end of it. I’d rather not have a repeat of last year.”

Azriel, who was already dressed and ready to go outside, took a gentle hold of your upper arms. You halted to a stop at the sudden touch. “[Name], slow down, take a deep breath. You know that stress isn’t good for you.”

Breathing in deep through your nose and slowly releasing it through your mouth, you could feel the tightness in your shoulders loosen. Azriel smiled, gently squeezing his hands around your flesh. “Good, that’s better.”

Nodding, you slumped your head forward, resting your temple against your bondmate’s firm shoulder. “Sorry.”

Warm hands cupped your cheeks softly, tilting your head up so that he could look at you. Azriel’s hazel eyes held that warm and tender look that he only reserved for you, for the love of his life.

“Sweetheart, you never have to apologize for that. I just want you to be healthy and happy, the both of you.”

His hands instinctively left your cheeks to wander down your dress, settling over your swollen stomach, one lone shadow joining their master’s hands. You were well into the third and last trimester, and with just a few more weeks worth of time, the growing baby within you was to be born.

With it being your and Azriel’s first child, every single aspect of the pregnancy was completely new, both beautiful beyond words, and downright scary at times. While the both of you were ready and eager to welcome a little boy or girl, it is frightening thinking that someone so small and precious was to be brought into the world.

You sighed, leaning into the familiar and comforting touch. Azriel was always touching your belly ever since the news of a little life growing inside you were revealed, you're almost surprised they hadn’t left marks on your skin yet. His shadows were not much better, if Azriel couldn’t be near you for any reason, several of them would remain beside you to watch over and protect.

”We’re both okay, how could we not be when we have such a doting male taking care of us?” As if in agreement with your words, a foot kicked your stomach, right under one of Azriel’s palm. A smile grew on your lips, and Azriel downright beamed at the feel. You cooed, gazing lovingly at your round stomach, ”Yeah, isn’t that right, little one?”

Another kick, this time firmer and the small laugh that escaped from Azriel sounded a little choked. He leaned down, pressing a long kiss against where his hands had been seconds before. With his lips still pressed against you, Azriel whispered words that you had a hard time hearing. But the way he spoke them, the affection dripping from his voice, you knew they were made of love.

After a few more moments, Azriel seemed to be able to tear himself away from your belly, the shadow retreating to their master. Once back up on his feet, he leaned down to press a slow kiss on your lips. You couldn’t help but melt against your bandmate, arms wrapping themself around his neck to keep him close. The need after breath was what finally made you have to pull back from those alluring lips.

”Are you ready to leave?” Azriel mumbled, aiding your limbs in to your coat and buttoned it up. He pressed a kiss against your temple, a strong forearm sneaking behind and round your waist. At your smile and nod, the two of you opened the door and stepped out into the snow.

The Townhouse was bustling with activity when Azriel and you arrived. Loud talking, laughter and the clinking of silverware in the kitchen greeted your ears immediately after the door closed behind the two of you. Shrugging off the small amount of snow that had collected on your coat and in your hair, Azriel helped you out of the coat as well as his own.

With his arm wrapped around your waist, Azriel and you stepped further into the warm house and into the kitchen. Feyre, who was leaning against the counter beside Rhysand, noticed your arrival first. She threw herself over to you, giving you a hug. “Azriel, [Name]! Welcome, the food’s almost ready!”

“We’re not late, are we?” You asked upon being released, immediately being enveloped in a hug by Rhys, then Cassian, followed by Nesta, Mor, and lastly Elain. Amren had unfortunately been busy elsewhere and unable to join your family for celebration.

“No, no, you’re fine. Cassian and Nesta just arrived minutes earlier.” Rhysand reassured you, pulling away from hugging his fellow Illyrian brother. Azriel gave you a pointed, but tender look, as if saying ‘told you so’. You rolled your eyes at him, a somewhat sheepish smile tugging on your lips.

Azriel huffed, pressing his lips against your temple. His arm creeped back around your side, his hand resting against your stomach as he so usually did the last couple months. You leaned back against his steady form with a content smile.

Cassian, having seen the whole scene, let out a snort and smirked at Azriel. “You’re so wiped, Az.”

Your mate’s eyes that had been locked on you hardened a bit in warning, directing his gaze at Cassian. Feyre and Azriel stifled a giggle when Nesta’s hand made contact with the back of her mate's head, a tsked ‘idiot’ escaping her mouth.

The smirk remained, but his eyes gave away to gentleness. ”On a serious note, we’re so happy for you two. How are you and the baby doing [Name]? Not long left till your little one is here.”

You smiled, your own hand settling on top of your husband’s on your stomach. “We’re doing great Cass. Just a couple more weeks before you get to meet your niece or nephew.”

“From what I’ve gathered, Azriel seems certain that it’s a girl.” Rhysand said, sharing a look with you. That was indeed true, whenever Azriel would speak with you about your unborn child, he would always call them a girl. Whether it was about the nursery or baby clothes or what color their eyes would have, the Shadowsinger thought you two would have a daughter.

You knew your mate would be ecstatic no matter if the baby would turn out to be a boy or girl, but it did secretly warm your heart imagining Azriel with a daughter. But you would have to wait for the birth to find out if your mate was right or not.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait to find out.” You said wistfully. Azriel hummed, a loving smile on his face. He leaned down, pressing a brief kiss on your lips, whispering low for only you to hear. “I can’t wait to meet her, or him.”

Feyre smiled at your comment, gazing at her own mate before looking at the stove. “Yes, indeed we will. Anyways, the food should be ready. Let’s eat!”

The following hour was spent at the dining table, surrounded by your closest friends and family eating a delicious meal and delightful drinks. Cheeks almost sore from smiling and belly full and content, everybody eventually migrated to the living room to land on the couches and armchairs.

After the gifts were given, received and opened, Azriel sat on an armchair that was appropriately sized for Illyrian wings with you sitting with your back pressed against his chest. The sun had already gone down and the snow fell heavy outside, the energy from the day had been all but spent. In your wonderful mate’s arms, you couldn’t help but to be dowsing.

“Did you have fun today, sweetheart?” Azriel asked low, just for you to hear. You nodded, tipping your head back to look at him, a slow and sleepy smile spreading across your face. “This was the best Solstice I’ve ever celebrated.”

A warm and tender hand caressed your flushed cheek. His other hand rested on your belly, thumb swiping back and forth against the stretched skin. A couple of his shadows flowed across the skin that was not covered by his hand, curious and delighted by their soon to be new friend.

The baby within was peacefully sleeping after having kicked the whole time that the gifts had been opened. “I’m glad that you feel the same. I take it that we should be heading home soon?”

You hummed, leaning back further in Azriel’s warm embrace, face nuzzling deeper into his shoulder blade. “Not just yet. Stay like this for a little while longer, your comfortable.”

Azriel chuckled but tightened his arms around you, leaning his cheek against the top of your head. “Whatever my mate wants, she gets.”

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Amandathon!

Sophie sets up the video camera and hits record. She places the first tape she finds in Riley’s stash into the VCR. Let’s Go To the Library! The tape begins to play. 

“Hi friends! I’m Amanda!” Amanda smiles and waves. 

“And I’m Wooly!” Wooly beams. They are back to their usual outfits. 

“And today we’re having an Amandathon!” 

“What’s an Amandathon, Amanda?” Wooly asks, more as if he was playing into the bit.

“It’s a huge marathon of Amanda episodes! Just like we used to do sometimes back in the day!” Amanda beams. Wooly looks over behind her and notices… something. 

“Wha- WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Wooly shouts. The tape glitches. Amanda gets startled. She looks around quickly, trying to figure out what Wooly is reacting too. Finally she notices. Right behind them reading a book on top of the dumpster.

“You.” Amanda growls. Wooly immediately picks the opossum up by the neck. 

“WHY THE HECK ARE YOU HERE?! I THOUGHT WE GOT RID OF YOU!”

“Heh. Now you know how I felt when you came back to life?” Amanda chuckles playfully. 

“Shut up Amanda.”

“Excuse me?” Amanda scoffs, appalled to say the least. She shakes her head in disappointment. Wooly does not seem to care. She turns her attention back to the opossum. “So opossum,” she sneers, trying to make herself sound scary and formidable, “how long have you been back?” The opossum glares at Wooly and kicks him in the stomach, forcing him to let go. Amanda holds back a chuckle. He sassily walks back to the dumpster and jumps on top of it. Then he takes out a pencil and writes in the book he was reading. 

“Hey isn't that a library book? You're not supposed to write in those!”

“Shut up Wooly.” Amanda says. Wooly shoots her an annoyed look. The opossum holds up their writing. Amanda squints at it. “What does that even say?”

“I think it says the whole time.” Wooly reads, leaning in closer to the book. The opossum spits on Wooly, he backs up immediately and gives the opossum a dirty look. 

“That can't be right. If it is, why hasn't he been bothering us anymore?” Amanda questions. The opossum lets out an annoyed sigh and starts writing again. He holds up the book and sticks his tongue out at Wooly. Amanda squints at the book again. “Life is pointless now. Okay, wow. Bleak.” The opossum shrugs, chucks the book at Wooly's face and makes raspberries at him.

“Amanda. Permission to kill him now?”

“No Wooly.”

“Amanda, turn around real quick.”

“I'm not falling for that.” Amanda rolls her eyes. She taps her chin in thought. “Say opossum, why don't you join us for the Amandathon?” The opossum tilts his head in confusion.

“Why would you ever suggest that?!” Wooly snaps, “He took out my eye you know! Among other things.”

“Yeah so? I killed you and I'm still your best friend somehow.”

“Amanda, you're my only friend.” Wooly rolls his eyes. 

“Ow. When did you get so mean?” Amanda says dramatically.

“I'm not being mean.” Wooly pouts folding his arms. The opossum shrugs and jumps off the trash bin.

“I’ll take that as a yes! So let’s go to the library!” Amanda beams. The tape glitches to the library. “Wow… it’s all fixed up now huh?” 

“Amanda… are you going to be okay coming back here? I mean after last time…” 

“It’s fine Wooly.” she lies before turning to the opossum, “Welcome to the Kensdale Public Library buddy!” Wooly rolls his eyes. “You’re a kid right? Let’s take you to the children’s section-tion-tion-tion.” the tape glitches to the kids section. 

“Go on, pick out a book you like.” Amanda offers. The opossum takes the smiling flower book and starts eating it. “No opossum! We don’t eat books!” Amanda scolds, fighting the opossum in a game of tug-of-war to get the book out of its mouth. Finally he lets it go, making Amanda fall backwards with a slobbery, half-shredded book in her hands. “Ewww… Well, here’s your book, Wooly.” she says, half-jokingly. 

“I am not touching that.” Wooly says, looking like he’s about to throw up. Amanda shrugs and tosses the book aside.

“Keep an eye on him okay?” Amanda mumbles. 

“Huh? Why?” Wooly gasps. 

“I need some… me-time.” Amanda sighs. She walks off, leaving Wooly and the opossum in the kids section. 

“She needs some me-time.” Wooly grumbles to himself mockingly, “Yeah sure just leave me with the- HEY STOP THAT!” the tape glitches back to Amanda. She walks up to the library counter, looking at the owl. 

“Did you find everything you need today?” she asks. 

“Can you help me find my favorite book?” Amanda questions quietly. 

“I’m sorry I don’t know what book that is. Can you tell me what you’re looking for?” 

“Haha… of course you wouldn’t know.” Amanda chuckles sadly. 

“If you give me the title maybe I can find it.” 

“I’d like to read The Nightingale.” Amanda says. The owl types the title into the computer. 

“I’m sorry. It seems that the book is currently checked out. We have other books. Let’s find something for you togeth-ther-ther-ther.” 

“Okay.” Amanda replies. The owl stands up and starts maneuvering around the library. Amanda follows suit. 

“We have other titles by that author. Oooh. Look at this-is-is-is-is.” Kate hands Rebecca a- The owl hands Amanda a book. It is a collection of fairy tales by Hans Christain Anderson. Amanda flips through it. 

“Wait a second… this is…” there it was. “No way… it was… here the entire time…” tears start welling up in her eyes and she starts to cry. 

“Wrong book?” the owl asks, tilting her head in confusion. 

“No… No it’s perfect…” Amanda cries, giving the owl a big hug. The owl’s model starts to glitch out. 

“Happy to he-he-he-help.” The owl promptly glitches back to the counter. Amanda wipes her tears and returns to the children’s section. Where Wooly and the opossum are… beating each other up. 

“Ahem. Have you found a book yet?” Both immediately look up at her in shock. Amanda looks pissed.

“He started it!” Wooly shouts, immediately standing up. The opossum bites his arm. “You little-” he swats the opossum off and back into the wall. She walks up to them and smacks them both upside the head with her book really hard. “Hey!” 

“Be quiet in the library.” She says with a calm, chilling sternness. 

“Got it.” Wooly responds, nodding frantically. Even the opossum sits in a well behaved manner. Amanda shakes her head in disappointment. They both show a book and all head back toward the desk. 

“You know… I used to come here a lot after Kate died… when no one was watching, just to hear her voice again.” 

“Amanda…” 

“It’s not her… I know it will never really be her… but sometimes I just miss her so much…” Amanda sounds like she’s going to cry again but she takes a really deep breath. Wooly looks at the ground with a guilty expression. They all walk up to the desk. The opossum sticks his tongue out at Wooly. Wooly is clearly annoyed but he chooses to look the other way. 

“Did you find everything you need today?” the owl asks. 

“Yes, thanks to you.” Amanda smiles gratefully. 

“Good! It is due-due-due-due-due-due-due---” the owl’s whole body starts glitching out. Amanda turns to walk away. “Have a nice day Rebecca.” a voice, clearly a recording, plays through the owl’s mouth. Amanda whips around in shock. The owl continues glitching and contorting before breaking down like a robot and laying limp like a dead person. 

“Kate… did she… record that for me?” Amanda wonders, frozen in one place. The tape ends. Sophie hits stop on the camera and uploads the file to a harddrive on her computer. I wonder what Riley would have thought… if they heard that. Sophie wonders. She sets the camera back up and puts in the next tape. 

“Welcome back! It’s your friend Amanda!” Amanda beams. 

“And… you’re pal Wooly!” Wooly says, a little flustered and confused by Amanda’s different opening. 

“Today we’re going to the park!” Amanda announces. “Can you tell me where the park is?” Amanda pulls out the map of her neighborhood. It takes Sophie a minute before she realizes. 

“Oh you want me to pick? Um… there.” “That’s right!” Amanda beams, closing the map. The tape glitches to the park. “There are so many things to see and do at the park!” 

“Like what Amanda?” Wooly asks unenthusiastically. 

“Like we can see… different animals.” Amanda pauses remembering their previous conversation. Static starts to cover the tape, but Amanda snaps out of it. “What animals do you see?” Oh she wants me to interact with her on this one. Okay. Well I guess that’s fair. Sophie thinks. She points to the opossum. “Look, it’s our new friend, the opossum!” 

“Since when was he our friend?” Wooly grumbles. Amanda’s eye twitches. She pulls Wooly in for a group huddle. 

“Wooly I think this opossum might be somewhat like us.” Amanda whispers. 

“Like us?! He is clearly nothing like us!” Wooly hisses. “An-And even if he was, we shouldn’t let him hang out with us.” 

“Why not?” “Because! He’s always being super rude and messing with us!” 

“Maybe he’s just lonely?” Amanda suggests. They look over at the opossum, which is currently choking on a dead bird. Wooly gives her a skeptical look. “Oh come on I’ve seen you eat some pretty weird things.” 

“Not dead birds.” Wooly scoffs, folding his arms. “And you are not one to talk.”

“Come on Wooly, just give him a chance.” 

“He bit me yesterday!” 

“So? It’s not like you can get rabies here.” 

“Oh but I think I might.” Wooly says dramatically, pretending he’s going to faint. Amanda smiles and rolls her eyes. 

“Wooly you’re fine.” she chuckles. “If you could forgive me, you can forgive anybody.” 

“Ye-yeah… I guess that’s true…” Wooly replies nervously, looking away, but it doesn’t sound sincere. 

“So let’s give him a chance, alright?” 

“Oh alright. Fine.” Wooly smiles weakly. 

“Opossum! Opossum!” Amanda calls out, “Wanna go to the playground with us?” She asks. She glances over and notices Sophie looks busy so she pulls out her map and asks the Opossum, “Can you tell me where the playground is.” The opossum takes the map and eats it. Amanda looks pissed. 

“Look I told you so.” Wooly says. Amanda glares at them both with annoyance. The tape glitches right to the park. “Let’s play!” she shouts, with anger poorly hidden in her voice. The opossum runs off and slides down the slide on his own. Wooly takes a leisurely ride on the swings. “Um guys… aren’t we going to play together?” But everyone seems to be doing their own thing. “Playgrounds are boring anyway…” she grumbles, “Why does this world always treat us like little kids?” Suddenly the tape glitches out and ends. Sophie looks over in surprise. Amanda seems to be ending these episodes sooner and sooner. I… hope she’s alright. She thinks. Sophie uploads this one to the harddrive and looks at the next tape. When You Get Sick. Should we skip this one? She wonders. But she told Riley she’d record as many as she could, so she puts the tape into the VCR. The tape begins to play. 

“Hi friends, I’m Wooly.” Wooly announces. He looks around and giggles a little. “We can’t go on our adventure yet today because Amanda hasn’t woken up yet. Sophie, wanna wake her up with me?” 

“Well alright.” Sophie answers. Considering this tape’s title I don’t think that’s a good idea. Wooly goes up to Amanda’s door and knocks. 

“Amanda, it's time to get up!” he says in a sing-song voice. 

“Go away Wooly, I don't feel good today.” 

“Can I come in? Maybe I could help you feel better?” Wooly asks. Amanda doesn’t object so he opens the door. “What’s wrong Amanda? Are you sick?” 

“No…” Amanda mumbles. Wait what? Sophie thinks. “I just… I don’t wanna get out of bed today.” 

“But… you should at least have breakfast? And what about our adventure?” Wooly questions. Amanda tiredly looks at the camera. 

“I don’t wanna go on an adventure today…” she mumbles. “I don’t wanna do anything today.” The tape fades out and falls out of the machine. The title has changed to When You’re Not Okay. Sophie looks at it worriedly. Okay… yeah… she’s definitely not doing well. Sophie thinks. She decides to take a break and have some tea before continuing onto the next tape. Sophie scrolls through her computer and sees all the homework she has to do. She works for a while until it’s around 4pm. I guess I should go back to recording Amanda now… maybe I could multitask? Do some homework while I record? She thinks to herself. She takes her computer downstairs, sets up the camera and puts in the next tape. Let’s Go On a Hike! The tape begins with Amanda and Wooly standing in the woods. 

“Hi friends! I’m Amanda!” 

“Amanda, are you sure you’re okay to be going on a hike today? You weren’t feeling well just yesterday.” Wooly asks. Amanda shoots him an annoyed look. 

“I’m fine now, Wooly.” 

“But-” 

“And now you spoiled our whole opening!” She scoffs in annoyance, throwing her hands into the air. Wooly looks guilty. “As our friend Wooly said, we are going on a HIKE today!” 

“Hikes are very important for the mind and body!” Wooly adds. Amanda glares at him. He looks back at her with confusion. 

“Today we’re going to watch the sunset in our originally planned place! Since we um… ended up at the wrong place last time.” 

“But Amanda… I don’t like walking in the woods at night…” “Don’t worry about it Wooly, you’ll be fine!” Amanda grins, she seems to be hiding something. 

“Amanda, we talked about this!” Wooly groans. Amanda pulls the camera aside away from where Wooly can't hear. With her face this close to the screen, Sophie can clearly see the bags under her bloodshot eyes. Poor kid… looks like she hasn’t had a wink of sleep. Sophie thinks. It also seems like… she’s been crying?

“Psst! Extra Extra! Don’t tell Wooly but I got a little surprise waiting at the top of the mountain! Oooh! It’s gonna be so much fun!” she squeals. Surprise? Sophie thinks, feeling a tad bit concerned. Amanda walks back over to Wooly.

“What were you talking about just now?” Wooly questions.

“Nothing… NOTHING.” She laughs, she walks up to the big hiker's backpack she brought and tries to put it on, but proceeds to fall backwards from its weight.

“I gotcha.” Wooly says, catching her and putting her back on her feet. “How about I carry that?”

“Are you sure?” Amanda says, handing him the backpack. He puts it on and wobbles a little. 

“I’m sure.” He grins. 

“Well alright! Let’s go on our hike!” Amanda beams. Wooly starts walking. “Wooly hold still, you have our map.” Amanda says, stopping him and rummaging through the backpack for her map. “Which pocket did I put it in again?” 

“Why do you have such a big backpack anyway?” Wooly questions.

“Aha! Found it!” Amanda pulls the map out triumphantly. “You see, last time we had problems because we weren’t prepared. So this time I made absolutely sure we have EVERYTHING we need.” she announces proudly. 

“But… when did you have time to do all this?” 

“Hahahaha! You’re so funny Wooly!” Amanda laughs in a slightly-manic fashion. 

“Um what? How was that funny? That- I don’t understand?” Wooly says, completely confused. Suddenly the opossum appears from the bushes. Amanda’s eye twitches. “Hi opossum! Do you wanna go on a hike with us today?” Wooly offers. Amanda whips an appalled glare at him. 

“The one day I didn’t- ugh.” Amanda sighs, “Actually opossum, I just want it to be me and Wooly today okay?” The opossum nods and runs off. 

“Oh, sorry about that. I thought you were going to invite him-”

“Well I wasn’t. Okay?!” she snaps. She lets out a tired sigh. “Let’s go Wooly.” They walk off into the woods. They reach a fork in the road. Amanda examines the map carefully. “Okay… I think I’m holding it right this time… which means we should go… that way.” She continues finding the different paths until… “Phew! I’m tired. Let’s take a break.” She says. She stops Wooly and pulls out two water bottles from the backpack. 

“Oh if I knew you packed those I would’ve asked for one.” Wooly mentions. Amanda hands him one. 

“I also have plenty of snacks too!” Amanda says, pulling out a bag of trailmix. “Look, it’s homemade.” Wooly looks kind of concerned, but the two both sit on some rocks and enjoy some snacks and water together. As soon as they're done eating Amanda says: “Alright! Break time is over! Back to walking!” 

“Already? I’m still kinda tired.” Wooly complains. 

“We don’t want to miss the sunset though, do we Wooly?” Amanda questions. Wooly sighs begrudgingly and stands back up. The tape glitches and they are finally at the peak. There, a full camping area is all set up. 

“Surprise, after the sunset we’re going camping tonight!” Amanda eagerly announces. “Ca-camping?!” Wooly gasps, “No! Why didn’t you tell me about this before? We’re camping?!” 

“Yeah! Aren’t ya excited Wooly?” “No of course not! We’re camping? In the middle of the woods with no adults? In the woods where we encountered WOLVES earlier? I don’t even have my pjs or my special bunny or my nightcap or anything! What about our nightlights? Wha-What about my nighttime routine?! What if I mess up some secret super sacred camping rule?!” 

“You don’t… like it?” Amanda sounds really hurt. 

“I do appreciate the thought but… I don’t like surprises Amanda. I wasn’t even given time to mentally prepare for this… I… it’s just a lot-”

“But I stayed up all night… trying to make this hike nice and fun for us. I tried so hard…” she mumbles, hugging her arms and trembling a little. 

“I’m sorry-” 

“It’s fine. We still have time before the sunset. I’ll just pack all this up and take it back tomorrow.” 

“No no, Amanda we can go camping. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I mean you worked really hard on this. That was insensitive of me…” 

“Wooly. It’s fine.” 

“But I feel bad.”

“Don’t.” Amanda says in a cold, harsh voice that sends a shiver up Wooly’s spine. 

“Um… okay then.” Wooly says nervously. Amanda lets out an annoyed huff and starts packing up the camping stuff. Wooly watches awkwardly for a bit, before coming over and starting to pick the stuff up as well. 

“Don’t help me!” Amanda snaps. Wooly flinches. Then he looks a bit mad. 

“I want to help you.” he insists forcefully. Amanda looks away and says nothing, but doesn’t stop him. They continue cleaning up the camping stuff in silence for a bit. “You know I do want to go camping with you… just… maybe on a different day and we can plan things out together. You know I have a lot of fun planning adventures with you…” 

“Fine.” Amanda pouts, still looking away. Wooly smiles awkwardly. Then he looks over at the sky and his expression immediately changes. 

“Um Amanda… is it just me or is it getting cloudy all of a sudden?” he asks. Amanda looks up. Dark clouds form quickly in the sky. Suddenly there is a downpour. “Aw! Now we can’t see the sunset!” Wooly complains. Amanda suddenly screams at the top of her lungs. Wooly covers his ears. A strike of lightning hits a tree in the distance and catches flame. The tape is glitching really badly. 

“It feels like this entire world is AGAINST US!” she screams before the tape glitches out and falls out of the machine. It seems like the effects of neglect on this imaginary world are really taking its toll. Sophie thinks worriedly. As soon as Riley gets back… I’m going to have to do another interrogation on Carl. Until then… 

She looks for the next tape. Let’s Start the Day! 

Riley told me that there were originally two of these tapes with the same name. One with green lettering and the other with red. An Amanda verison and a Wooly version… They also said Wooly was acting really weird in his version. Oh boy. Sophie sighs and puts the tape into the VCR. The tape starts with Wooly dangling off the side of his bed upside down for some reason. 

“Um… hi Wooly, you okay there?” 

“Ah Sophie hi!” Wooly gasps, suddenly he slips off the bed and hits his head on the floor. 

“That looked like it hurt.” 

“Heh heh… it didn’t.” Wooly laughs awkwardly. 

“You still don’t feel anything?”

“Nope! But let’s not talk about that right now okay? Or ever for that matter.” Wooly pauses for a couple seconds. 

“How’s the Amandathon been? I’m not tiring you guys out am I?” 

“A little but I’m fine.” Wooly smiles, “But uh… I think Amanda has been acting… kinda off lately?” 

“Yeah. I noticed.” 

“Oh phew, so it wasn’t just me.” Wooly sighs in relief. “I haven’t seen her act like this since…” a shiver runs up his spine. 

“Since Kate first died?” 

“Mmmhmm.” he nods. What do I even say in this situation? I don’t even know what’s going on…

“Wait… it’s morning? Riley said last time it was night…” Sophie observed. Let’s just change the subject.

“For now it is, give it a second.” Wooly scoffs. She realizes that the sun keeps going up and down every couple seconds. “Yeah. It’s been like that all day… is it day? I don’t know anymore.” 

“Oh boy. Well don’t worry. As soon as Riley gets back I’m going to talk with Carl again to find a solution.” 

“I wouldn’t trust him if I were you Sophie.” Wooly says seriously. Believe me I don’t. 

“Why not?” Sophie asks. Is there something he did like… specifically?

“He worked for Hameln… and while he may have been nice he also… seemed desperate. Like he’d do anything to survive. He’d sacrifice anyone. I don’t think he’d lie or give you false information. If he says he wants to help… he probably isn’t lying… but the moment it comes at the danger of his life… he’s going to do anything to live. I know it.” Wooly says, curling himself in a cozy little ball. He looks… comfortable. Usually he doesn’t when talking about this stuff. Sophie realizes. 

“How do you know that?” 

“Well I mean, I saw it first hand… but also… I used to be like that…” 

“Really… you don’t seem the type Wooly.” 

“What can I say? I’m selfish I guess.” he shrugs. 

“You weren’t selfish Wooly, you were just in an awful position that no child should ever be placed in-” “I don’t want to hear it, Sophie.” Wooly sulks, pulling himself in tighter. There it is… he’s closing himself off again.

“Well alright… did you sleep well?” “Surprisingly, yes.” Wooly says, “I mean… I think. The clock is also not working.” he points out, the clock numbers are flipping all over the place. 

“I see… so… why are you just hanging around in your room?” 

“I can’t decide if it’s morning or not yet… like should I go back to sleep or wake up? I’m not exactly sure… hmmm…” 

“What about Amanda?”

“Oh she’s definitely sleeping. Or at least… she hasn’t left her room yet and um… I don’t know, she’s been in a mood lately that I don’t want to get testy with you know?” 

“That makes sense.” 

“Anyway… that doesn’t mean you can’t make breakfast yourself right?” 

“I suppose you're right… I am getting hungry.” Wooly says. The tape glitches to the living room. “Um hmm… this wasn’t where I was trying to go…” the tape glitches again to the bathroom. “Heh heh… whoops. Usually it just goes-” the tape glitches to the card section of the store. “Amanda must be playing some sort of prank on me right now.” the tape glitches to Amanda’s room. Wooly notices immediately she’s still asleep. He quietly tiptoes out. “Okay… so it’s not Amanda… and it’s not me… what is going on?” he wonders, tapping his chin. The tape glitches to outside. It’s still raining. Wooly looks extremely annoyed. He carefully walks into the kitchen. “I… um… wow… I hate this.” Amanda glitches onto the counter.

“Wah! Cold- Oh. Hi Wooly, why are you soaking wet?” she questions.

“Just go back to bed. I’ll make us breakfast.” Wooly sighs. 

“Um… okay?” she slowly climbs off the counter, “Weird.” She walks out of the kitchen. Wooly grabs some bread out of the now lowered cabinet. 

“Look at me, I don’t need your help anymore!” Wooly giggles proudly.  

“Aw Wooly…” Sophie says sadly. 

“Wha- Don’t feel bad! I… I can find something for you to do um um!” Wooly looks around in a panic. 

“Look Wooly, if you don’t need me I can go.” Sophie teases. 

“NO!” Wooly shouts. Sophie flinches. Wooly starts breathing heavily, like he’s about to have a panic attack. Oh yeah… I forgot that both of them are one word away from a mental breakdown at all times. 

“Wooly, Wooly buddy it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Sophie says softly. How did Riley manage these two all this time? Wooly takes a deep breath and puts the toast into the toaster. He walks over to the fridge. “Now I don’t like bacon, but Amanda is obsessed with it. So I gotta make her some.”

“You can cook bacon?” Sophie asks. Wooly stops and looks down at the floor. 

“Can I cook bacon?” he asks himself. He stands there kinda paralyzed. 

“Did you tell Amanda you’d make her bacon without actually knowing how to make bacon?” Sophie asks. Wooly nods. Oh boy. Sophie thinks. 

“I should watch the toast and make sure it doesn’t burn again.” Wooly says. Again?! Amanda, why are you letting him cook?! “Oh don’t worry I was half-asleep last time.”

“Wait Wooly, do you even know how to make bacon?” Amanda asks, walking in while rubbing her eyes groggily. 

“Amandaaaa…” Wooly whimpers. 

“Ban him from the kitchen.” Sophie says. 

“EXCUSE ME?!” Wooly snaps. Amanda bursts out laughing. 

“Don’t worry Sophie, Wooly’s actually pretty good at cooking. Except he seems to be terrible at breakfast for some reason.” Amanda explains. 

“That’s because you make breakfast this whole thing. Why can’t we just eat cereal or oatmeal?” 

“Wooly, Wooly, Wooly, breakfast is one of the few pleasures I get in this world.” Amanda says in a refined and elegant tone. Suddenly the tape glitches them both outside. It’s still raining. “GRAAH! THAT’S IT!” Wooly screams, storming back inside. “I DON’T EVEN WANT BREAKFAST ANYMORE!” Amanda can hear a door slamming all the way from down stairs. Is it just me or are their mental states far worse than before? Sophie observes. 

“Um… Wow… okay…” Amanda mumbles, walking back inside. She glitches to Wooly’s doorway. “Hey um… can I come in?” 

“I guess so.” Wooly pouts. Amanda opens the door and sees Wooly sitting on the floor still completely soaking wet.

“Come on Wooly let’s dry off and eat breakfast together, alright?” 

“Fiiiiiine.” Wooly groans. The tape ends. Riley told me to be careful around the next tape since Wooly had a bit of a freakout and Riley got hurt. I haven’t seen the demons yet but I feel like I’m treading a thin wire with that. She lets out a deep sigh and pulls out the next tape. Our New Friend. She starts the video on the camera and puts the tape into the VCR, it immediately starts to play. 

“Hi again, I’m Amanda.” Amanda smiles and waves. 

“And I’m Wooly!” Wooly beams. 

“And today we have a letter from a friend at home-” “Amanda… can we not do this episode?” Wooly questions. 

“Yeah I’m getting really tired of all of this…” Amanda sighs. “Hey Sophie? Do we have to record ALL of the tapes?” 

“I guess not…” Sophie replies. 

“Then why don’t we just skip to the shopping tape and be done with it?” Amanda groans. 

“Well… okay then…” Sophie says. Well okay then… Thank god for that. She thinks. She looks for the shopping tape in the massive pile of tapes. Maybe we should get a shelf for all these. Let’s Go Shopping… this should be the one. Honestly I’m getting a bit tired of this myself. Sophie restarts the video and puts the new tape into the VCR. 

“Hi friends, it’s me, Amanda!” Amanda beams with a friendly little wave. 

“And me, Wooly!” Wooly grins. 

“And today we’re going grocery shopping!” 

“Yaaaay!” Wooly says enthusiastically. 

“That’s the spirit, Wooly!” 

“Are we going to bring up the tax fraud thing again?” Wooly asks excitedly, bouncing up and down a little.

“You’ve become such a troublemaker Wooly!” Amanda teases. 

“I- I have not!” Wooly gasps glancing at Sophie quickly. 

“Sure Wooly, let’s go shopping!” Amanda says. The tape glitches and fades out. Tax fraud thing? Wait no I kind of want to hear about that… Sophie thinks to herself. 

“First things first, we have to go back to… the butcher…” Amanda groans. 

“We don’t have to.” Wooly reminds her. 

“We’re out of meat Wooly.” 

“We don’t need it.” 

“Maybe but I still want it.” “Then I’m staying out here.” Wooly concludes, folding his arms and planting his feet on the ground firmly, turning his back to Amanda completely. Amanda looks kind of scared. 

“C’mon Wooly, you’re not really going to make me go in there alone are you?” 

“I don’t see why I should.” 

“Wooly… please?” Amanda pleads. Wooly glances at her puppy-dog eyes and…

“That doesn’t work on me anymore, you know that.” Wooly sighs.

“Bu-but!” 

“I’m not going in there. Last time you nearly broke my hand!” 

“We can take you to the doctor.” 

“How about you just don’t break my bones?!” Wooly snaps. “Forget this, I'm going to the store.” 

“What? Why!” “I. Need. Peanut. Butter.” 

“Huh?” 

“You used up all my peanut butter and now I have NOTHING for lunch!” Wooly explains throwing his hands up in the air. “Honestly, I’m kind of done with this whole Amandathon thing so I think I’m just going to get my peanut butter and go home.” 

“You’ve been moody… this whole Amandathon… over a freaking PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH?!” Amanda shouts, clearly angry. 

“Moody? Have I been moody? Sorry I didn’t mean to be-” Wooly’s eyes widen in realization, “Wait a minute no I haven’t! If anyone has been weirdly moody this whole Amandathon it’s you.” 

“What?! I have NOT!” 

“Have to!” 

“Have not!” 

“Have to!” 

“HAVE NOT!” 

“HAVE TO!” 

“SHUT UP!” Amanda screams. Wooly flinches. 

“I won’t shut up! You always do this! Every time something is going on with you, you just get really touchy and refuse to talk to anyone about it and it really pisses me off!” 

“You don’t listen anyway!” 

“How can I listen if you don’t even talk!” Wooly snaps.

“You wouldn’t understand!” 

“Why are you just assuming that when you haven’t even told me what’s wrong?” 

“You wanna know what’s wrong? YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT’S WRONG?!” 

“YEAH THAT’S WHY I’M ASKING YOU IDIOT!” Wooly screams. Amanda flinches. Wooly freezes. The tape glitches. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell…” 

“You think I’m an idiot?” Amanda asks. 

“Kind of? Sometimes?” Wooly covers his mouth. “Oops-” Amanda doesn’t even look angry anymore. She mumbles something really quietly. “What was that?” he lifts his ear up. 

“I… I can’t feel it anymore either…” Amanda whimpers. Wooly freezes. 

“Oh.” Wooly responds awkwardly. “Why… did you think I wouldn’t understand that?” 

“It’s not just that.” Amanda says quietly, sitting down on the curb and burying her face in her hands. Wooly sits down beside her. “It just… hit me…” 

“What hit you? Huh?” he replies, completely confused, “You lost me.” 

“It just hit me that… we’re never getting out of here Wooly…” 

“Oh yeah… that…” 

“You knew all along didn’t you?” Amanda pouts, refusing to even look at him. 

“I… yeah…” 

“That’s exactly what you wanted isn’t it?”

“Maybe? Ye-yeah? Yeah…” Wooly finally admits. “But… I don’t exactly feel good about it… I… I wanted you to get out of here. I… I was going to do anything… for you to get out of here… but I… I guess in the end it doesn’t matter what I was willing to do, does it?” Wooly chuckles sadly. “I guess I’m an idiot too.” 

“We’re not idiots… we’re just kids… and now that’s all we’ll ever be.”

“Don’t… don’t say it like that… you’re gonna make me cry…” Amanda looks at him, clearly already crying. “Stop it. I’m not going to the butchers with you, this won’t work on me.” he tries to chuckle a little, but his voice cracks. Amanda gives him a big hug, burying her face in Wooly’s wool. “Amanda come on… stop crying, you’re getting snot in my wool.” 

“Not any more than you are.” Amanda teases but then she starts crying harder, “We’re really stuck like this… and we’re never getting out of here… we’re never getting out… we’re never…” 

“Amanda stop it… you’re breaking my heart…” Wooly whimpers.

“Join the club you silly sheep.” Amanda giggles sadly. Just then, they notice the opossum walking by sipping a smoothie giving them a very weird look. “Come on opossum, join the snot hug!” Amanda offers. The opossum looks back and forth at both of them with a mix of disgust and confusion. 

“I swear to Hameln if you join in the snot hug I will kill you.” Wooly grumbles, giving the opossum a death glare. 

“Don’t be like that Wooly.” 

“He’s ruining the moment!” 

“Forget the moment, Wooly, I’m feeling better now. Thanks for listening.” 

“Anytime Amanda, anytime.” Wooly smiles. Amanda stands up and reaches out her hand to help Wooly up. He looks down and realizes he actually is covered in snot. “Can we just get this over with so I can go home and have a bubble bath?” 

“Yeah but this time we’re getting you your own bottle of bubble bath.” Amanda replies. 

“Fine by me.” Wooly smiles. 

“Can you tell us where the store is?” Amanda asks. Sophie clicks on the store. Suddenly all the stores turn into the meatman’s place. “WHAT THIS AGAIN?!” 

“Why does this only happen when I decide we should go off-script?!” Wooly shouts. The opossum looks terrified and scampers behind Amanda and Wooly for protection. 

“Wait… this only happens to you but what about that time we sent the… Wooly you didn’t!” 

“Can we stop about about me being an absolute moron in the past and handle the situation in front of us!” Wooly snaps, clearly way more stressed out then Amanda. 

“Okay okay. If we just go into the butchers and get the meat it’ll be fine!” 

“Why does he want us to eat meat so badly?!” Wooly shouts. 

“I don’t know, I never thought about it to be honest! Let’s just go in and get this over with!” Amanda announces. But the opossum clings to her and shakes his head frantically. “Wait, why are you afraid of the butcher?” The opossum frantically starts playing charades pointing to the butchers and then making a neck cutting motion with his finger. “Wait… so let me make this clear. You watched Amanda the Adventurer right?” Amanda asks. The opossum nods. “And you got trapped in the tapes right?” he nods again. “And you’re saying that the meatman… butchers the people who get stuck in the tapes?” he nods once more.

"That's a bit of a leap in logic isn't it... wait... that means-" Wooly turns pale.

“Oh… oh my god… what the f***.” This time, neither Wooly nor Sophie calls her out for her language. “How did I not realize this before? Haha… oh my god… that means… oh my g-”

“Amanda, you don’t need to feel guilty about this… Hameln’s at fault not you.” Wooly tells her in a weak voice.

“Wooly… you don’t get it…” 

“Please stop assuming I don’t get things… just explain it.” 

“Wooly… when we eat meat we’re-” “Okay please stop explaining. I think I get the point.” Wooly says, looking completely grossed out and disturbed.

“What do we do? Wooly? Opossum? What do we do?” Amanda asks desperately, looking back and forth at both of them. Wooly stops and ponders, Amanda and the opossum do to. There is a period of silence while the tape just sits there, glitching. The music is distorted and the tape grows fuzzy.

“I think I have an idea…” Amanda says, breaking the silence. The two quickly whip their heads in her direction. “Why don’t we just kill the meatman?” There is a bit of stunned silence. 

“Kill… the meatman?” Wooly repeats. Amanda nods. “Kill the meatman? Are you crazy? We can’t kill the meatman? Can we? And what if he comes back? And what will it do to this world?” 

“What do we have to lose? It’s not like we can die! Besides you came back because you’re a main character, a fan-favorite. This world can’t exist without you just as much as me!” Amanda explains, waving her finger in Wooly’s face. The animation became so smooth all of the sudden. Sophie notices.  

“Fan… favorite?” 

“I mean, no one likes the butcher right?” Amanda laughs nervously, “Once we beat him, there will be no problems in this world. You know what? I like this plan! Do you like the plan, opossum?” Amanda asks. The opossum nods its head. “Come on what do you say Wooly? It could be fun.” 

“I don’t know…” Wooly says, the tape starts to glitch again. Hmm… maybe… Sophie thinks. 

“I think you should.” Sophie says. 

“Huh? Really?” Wooly gasps. 

“Worth a shot.” she shrugs. 

“You with me Wooly?” Amanda grins. 

“I…” Wooly pauses then a determined smile crosses his face, “Always.” the animation quality suddenly returns.

“Oh boy what a way to end the Amandathon right guys? I’m getting all excited!” Amanda beams. She turns around and realizes that Wooly’s legs are shaking like a baby fawn. The opossum also looks frozen in place. “Let’s go.” Amanda demands, taking them both by the arms and dragging them inside. They enter the butcher shop. Amanda also seems a bit weak in the knees all the sudden. “On second thought… why don’t we just tell the meatman what we need?” she says weakly. 

“Amanda…” Wooly says in the most disappointed tone of voice anyone has ever heard. 

“What kind of meat do we need from the meatman?” Amanda asks, giving Sophie a wink. Oh. Sophie types in meatman. “That’s right! We’re having meatman for dinner tonight!”

“So we really are just doing this then?” Wooly laughs nervously. “Okay then.”

The meatman, however, did not take kindly to Amanda’s threat and immediately raised his blade at them. “Um Amanda do we have a plan?” 

“Nope, not really.” Amanda shrugs. Amanda jumps up on the counter the meatman slams the blade down onto the cutting board "Just gonna take this.” Before the meatman can lift the knife again Amanda swipes it and slams it into the meatman’s head. Blood splatters everywhere. The meatman stops moving. She jumps off the counter. “Wow! That was so easy.” Amanda says clapping her hands together. "Why didn't we just do that sooner?" she laughs. She turns to Wooly and the opossum. “So why don’t we head to the store now?” The meatman takes the blade out of its head and lifts it above Amanda’s head. 

“Amanda, look out!” Wooly shouts, he quickly jumps in front of her and catches the blade in his hand. 

“Wooly you’re bleeding!” 

“I know right? I feel like this would usually really hurt huh?” Wooly laughs, the blade cuts right through his hands. Amanda pulls him back. 

“Oh my goodness are you okay? Of course you’re not okay… haha WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Amanda screams, shaking him.

“My hand was gonna end up broken today one way or another.” Wooly chuckles. Amanda notices the opossum climbing up the meatman and biting viciously at his head. The meatman quickly takes him and slams him against the wall. 

“What’s going on?” Riley asks, coming through the door. 

“Amanda, Wooly, and the opossum are fighting the meatman to the death.” Sophie explains.

“Why does the interesting stuff only happen when I’m gone.” Riley sighs. The meatman looms over the three of them, raising its blade over their heads. 

“I can’t look!” Wooly whimpers, turning away and closing his eyes. 

“You are not going to hurt my friends!” Amanda screams, her demonic eyes popping out. Riley turns around and notices both demons behind them. Sophie is about to scream but Riley puts their hand over her mouth. 

“It’s okay… just lend them a bit of your power… please?” Riley pleads. They turn back to the screen. Wooly starts transforming too.

“Just... give us… five minutes… okay?” Wooly says, as if he’s trying to calm them down. The tape falls out of the machine. 

“Wait no!” Sophie cries, lunging towards it and catching it in her hands. “But…” 

“I wonder if the show’s censors would react badly to all the blood?” Riley wonders. “Or maybe Amanda and Wooly don’t want us to watch them in those forms? Or something?” 

“Still… what if they lose?” 

“They won’t. It’s Amanda and Wooly we’re talking about.” Riley says. So they chose to wait. It was the longest, most awkward five minutes of their lives. (Sitting in silence with the demons). Amanda’s was sleeping with it's head on Riley's lap, in fact Riley was surprised that it let them pet it. 

“It’s like a giant cat.” Riley whispers. “When it’s not trying to kill you…” Finally they decided to put the tape back into the VCR. When they did the whole room was covered in blood and Amanda and Wooly were panting in exhaustion. I guess the whole blood censorship theory was wrong. Riley deduces. 

“You think we did it?” Wooly asks. 

“I don’t think he can get any deader than that…” 

“I can’t believe we did that…” 

“I know. You were feral, Wooly.” 

“Don’t ever say that again.” Wooly grumbles. “I guess I just had a lot of pent up rage to let out.” 

“Maybe we should buy a punching bag then…” 

“Maybe…” 

“We should probably go home and get cleaned up before we finish shopping huh?” 

“Yeah… I feel like if I see any more blood today I’m gonna faint.” 

“Wooly I think that’s from the blood loss… hmm… I guess we should get you stitched up huh?” as Amanda says this, Sophie notices the pair are in rough shape… but the tape stopped glitching for some reason. “You too opossum. Thanks for your help today.” Amanda adds. The tape pans in the opossum laying in the corner like he’s playing dead, giving Amanda a weak thumbs up. 

“I don’t wanna go to the hospital…” Wooly groans. Amanda rolls her eyes. The tape changes to their bathroom. Wooly and the opossum are sitting in the tub while Amanda is sorting through the first aid kit. The tape changes again and Amanda is now in a different outfit, tossing her bloodied clothes into the hamper. The world seems brighter and the animation is much smoother than it’s ever been. The tape changes again to Amanda wrapping Wooly’s hand up in bandages while Wooly sits on the toilet with the cover down. 

“I don’t know what possessed you to catch that knife with your bare hands, but don’t do anything that stupid again you scared the s*** out of me!” 

“But it was cool right?” Wooly asks, sounding almost drunk. 

“Sure… it was cool Wooly. Just don’t do it again.” 

“Don’t go being about to get chopped in half again and I won’t.” he replies, swaying a little. 

“I don’t plan on it.” Amanda sighs. She helps Wooly off the toilet. “Are you okay to stand?” 

“I’m fiiiiine!” he laughs before immediately slipping in water and falling on his face. He then just lay there laughing for a bit.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him honestly.” Amanda says, looking directly at the screen. She helps Wooly up. “Maybe we should just skip shopping?” she suggests. 

“Noooo… I’m fine!” Wooly pouts. He does not look fine. Riley walks up and smacks the TV. Wooly shakes his head really hard and blinks a couple times. “What was I doing again?” 

“Wooly, are you feeling okay?” 

“Yeah I’m fine. Why?” Wooly answers, sounding completely normal now. 

“How did that work?”

“So are we going shopping or…”  “I am so confused… but uh… yeah shopping!” the tape changes to outside again with all the stores lined up. The butcher’s is noticeably missing. “Can you tell me where the store is?” Amanda asks. Riley clicks on it. “That’s right!” they enter the store. “Okay so on our list we need peaches, apples, bread-” “Peanut butter.” 

“Yes Wooly, peanut butter. Bubble bath…” “What about two-in-one peanut butter and bubble bath?” Riley jokes. 

“What?” Amanda looks at them with complete confusion. 

“No.” Wooly says in a deadpan tone. 

“It’s hysterical.” Riley laughs, elbowing Amanda’s unamused demon. 

“You have guts I’ll give you that.” Sophie sighs. 

“Can you get us all the items on our list?” Amanda asks. Sophie pushes Riley out of the way and clicks on everything. Peaches, apples, bread, peanut butter, bubble bath.

“We also should get some more peach jam while we’re here.” 

“You and your peach jam.” Amanda rolls her eyes. Sophie clicks on the peach jam. 

“Do we need anything else today?” 

“Not from here.” Amanda shrugs, pulling out her list. “We need eggs from the farm for breakfast… you still eat eggs right Wooly?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool. So eggs… hmm… maybe we can get some bacon from the farmer…” 

“Have you learned NOTHING?” Wooly snaps. 

“Guess not huh? So… no more meat from now on… guess that’s fine… then I think eggs are the last thing on our list for the day.” 

“The last thing on the list for my day is a glass of warm milk and SLEEP.” Wooly groans leaning over backwards dramatically. 

“Milk! I almost forgot. I think we can get some at the farm too, right?” Amanda asks.

“I don’t caaaare let’s just get this over with.” 

“Why are you so bored all of the sudden?” Amanda’s eyes widen in realization. “Wait… is this because we got your peanut butter? Now you have no interest in this trip?” Wooly looks away and doesn’t answer. Amanda looks at him with annoyance. She grabs his arm and drags him to the farm. 

“Let’s tell the Scarecrow what we need!” Amanda announces. The tape pans to the motionless smiling scarecrow farmer once again. Wait… how did the farmer shear Wooly anyway? Sophie wonders then decides it’s best not to overthink a kids show, regardless of its origins. Riley types in wool.

“We already have plenty of that from the last episode.” Wooly pouts. “I’m only back to normal since you're rewatching old episodes!” I don’t get how that works but okay. Sophie thinks. 

“What are you even talking about? What happened?” Riley asks.

“Wooly got sheared.” Amanda answers. 

“Oh ho ho! I need to hear more about this.” 

“Quit teasing them!” Sophie scolds.

“No you don’t! Just answer the dang question!” Wooly shouts, seeming kind of bashful about the whole thing. Riley rolls their eyes and types in eggs. The scarecrow no-clips off screen and then just appears back in with eggs. Amanda grins, wildly amused by this. 

“I much prefer the Scarecrow to the butcher.” she giggles. “What else do we need?” Riley types in milk. “We need regular milk and kitten milk please.” Amanda says. Suddenly the Scarecrow starts making noise like one of the adults in the Peanuts holiday specials. “No you cannot have your cat back. She’s mine and I love her. Though…” she glares at the tv, “none of you have given me name ideas for her yet!” 

“How did you understand that?” Wooly asks, thoroughly confused. The Scarecrow sheds a tear and disappears once again, returning with some milk and kitten milk. 

“Can we get some more cat food too please?” Amanda asks. The Scarecrow disappears and reappears again. “Thank you! Have a great day!” the tape changes back to home. Where Amanda realizes the opossum is trying to eat the kitten. She separates them immediately. 

“Bad opossum bad! This kitten is not food!” Amanda scolds holding the opossum at arms length in one arm and the kitten close to her chest in the other. The opossum hisses at her and she gives him a death glare. He shuts up. She drops him on the floor and he scampers behind Wooly. 

“I don’t know what you're expecting from me. I still want you dead.” Wooly admits in the most flat, emotionless voice ever. The opossum slowly backs away. 

“My poor baby? Did he hurt you? Oh he must’ve frightened you so much! He’s a bad bad bad opossum! Don’t worry! I will never ever ever let that terrible creature anywhere or any other dangers bring harm to a hair on your little head you understand me? You are mama’s little girl. Yes you are. Yes you are. My precious little baby.” Amanda says in a babyish voice, coddling the cat to bits with kisses and snuggles. 

“She didn’t react that way when the opossum attacked me earlier.” Wooly scoffed. The kitten hisses and scratches Amanda’s face before kicking away and jumping to the floor. She isn’t even phased. She doesn’t even look mad. She turns to Wooly and smirks. 

“Oh Wooly… are you jealous?” Amanda asks. 

“Not… particularly.” 

“Oh poor Wooly! Feeling all left out cause Amanda isn’t paying attention to him.” Amanda continues the baby voice routine. “Okay stop that.” 

“Don’t worry Wooly, I can protect you too! You’re my very precious special best friend after all.” 

“This is weird. You know this is weird.” Wooly says, looking incredibly disturbed. Amanda gives him a big hug. “Get off me. I’m not your cat.” “Of course not! You’re my favorite sheep!” 

“That’s it.” Wooly grumbles shoving Amanda off him. She immediately bursts out laughing. 

“Oh my gosh teasing you is the best Wooly!” 

“Yeah whatever… I’m gonna go… do something.” 

“Yeah like what?” 

“I don’t know… I don’t care… all I know is that bedtime can’t come soon enough…” Wooly groans, going to walk off. 

“You know, you’ve been a really great friend lately, Wooly…”

“Where is this coming from?” Wooly asks, completely caught off guard. 

“I was struggling and feeling really bad and you were there for me this time.” 

“Yeah?” 

“So thank you Wooly.” 

“You’re… welcome? I guess?” Wooly replies, sounding completely confused. Amanda smiles at him. 

“Before you go, wanna… close out the Amandathon with me?” 

“Sure…” 

“Well everyone that’s it for the Amandathon! Thanks for tuning in! Catch your pal Amanda…” “And you’re best friend Wooly next time on Hameln Jr!” 

“Oh man. That was nostalgic.”

“You can say that again.”

“Oh man. That was nostalgic.” 

“I didn’t mean that literally.” 

“I know. That should be enough material for old tapes right guys?” Amanda asks. 

“Yep.” 

“Okay then! Thanks for playing with us!” Amanda grins. 

“See you next time!” Wooly beams. The tape falls out of the VCR.

Authors Note: Okay so from now on these tapes are gonna have very little continuity. I might keep the fantape lore in some of them because it's so fun but yeah... I have no idea how the Amanda series is gonna end and thus have no idea how to end this fic series. So from now on it's going to be the silly adventures of Amanda and Wooly! This will probably be the longest fic of the series, so I hope you enjoy. PLEASE LET ME KNOW THINGS YOU NOTICED AND YOUR FAV PARTS IN THE COMMENTS! THANKS TO ALL WHO ENJOYED THIS SERIES THUS FAR. I'll still prolly write some fics here and there... just... for funsies. Ya know?

BTW WHAT ARE WE NAMING THE CAT I STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN SUGGESTIONS!

Anywho have a nice day and a lovely holidays if you celebrate any!

[caspiansinclair]

A LIST OF TFC KANDREW QUOTES/CRUMBS (i love them. i probably missed a good amount since this was from a light skimming through):

- to andrew: “you already have kevin”

- “[andrew] said he’d break his fingers if Coach ever made him play with kevin again.” “but he’s playing now?” “only because kevin is. kevin got back on court with a racquet in his right hand, and andrew wasn’t far behind. up until then they were fighting like cats and dogs. now look at them. they’re practically trading friendship bracelets and i couldn’t fit a crowbar between them if it’d save my life.” “but why? andrew hates kevin’s obsession with exy.” “the day they start making sense, let me know. i gave up trying to sort it all out weeks ago. you could ask, but neither of them will answer. but as long as i’m doling out advice? stop staring at kevin so much. you’re making me fear for your life.” “what do you mean?” “andrew is scary territorial over him. he punches me in the first time i said i’d like to get kevin too wasted to be straight.”

- “andrew was only here because kevin day never went anywhere alone.”

- about andrew: “he has only eyes for kevin”

- ‘“look at me,” andrew said. kevin turned a haunted at him… “it’ll be fine,” andrew said. “i promised, didn’t i? don’t you believe me?” it took a while, but at last kevin visibly relaxed. the dead edge melted out of his eyes as he absorbed every ounce of strength andrew could give him. the unwavering trust kevin had in andrew was amazing.”

- about andrew: “kevin needs him right now and that trumps whatever agreement you two had”

- “kevin had andrew to lean on”

- “i hate you.” “you don’t.” “how would you know?” “because if you did, andrew wouldn’t let you anywhere near me.”

- “andrew put his hand to kevin’s back and shoved him into the bedroom” (this one’s here for sillies.)

- “since kevin appears to be in the center of his (andrew’s) strange world”

- “this means andrew is keeping you, same as he kept kevin”

- “you’re the reason kevin’s going to stay with our team. andrew’s got kevin’s back, but you’ve got kevin’s attention. that makes you invaluable to andrew.”

- “kevin had to climb up andrew’s side to get to his feet after downing 13 drinks in an hour and a half”

- “Kevin was standing with Andrew inside the goal line, left hand out so Andrew could tug at his outer glove. Andrew undid the straps and peeled it off, then hooked it under his arm so he could take off Kevin's arm guard. He left Kevin's under-glove on, but unhooked the loop from Kevin's middle finger so he could slide the black cloth to Kevin's wrist. Kevin flexed his fingers slowly, staring at his scars, then turned his hand over and flexed his fingers again”

- “The look on Matt's face said he was just getting started, but Andrew stepped between them before Matt could go after Kevin again. Andrew was smiling and his stance was casual, but Matt knew better than to try his luck against the short psychopath. Matt took a step back, silently conceding the fight, and shot Neil a worried look. Kevin got to his feet behind Andrew and glared at Neil.”

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 11 - Mistle-Hoe

Lucifer x Reader Summary: After a lavish night out for Christmas dinner, Lucifer has another surprise under his sleeve. Or rather, on his tail. Warnings: Oral sex, semi-public sex, cum, use of nicknames (ducky, dove, my king) in sexual context, etc. MNDI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by @morganr26

The night was a symphony of winter—soft snowflakes danced in the air, and the streets of Hell’s downtown glimmered with crimson lights strung from wrought-iron lampposts. Y/N adjusted her maroon dress as she stepped into the extravagant restaurant Lucifer had chosen. Their first Christmas together. No small feat, mind you, and it was already becoming clear that tonight would perfect.

The dress hugged her figure in all the right ways, and the sheer confidence it gave her didn’t go unnoticed. Paired with a set of simple but elegant beige hells, Lucifer’s golden eyes gleamed with mischief and appreciation; flickering over her as if committing every detail to memory.

“You look stunning, dove ” he purred, offering his arm. “Though I must say, you’re making it very hard for me to focus on anything else tonight.”

Y/N smirked. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”  

The waiter greeted Lucifer with a bow so deep it bordered on theatrical, leading them to a private balcony. Perks of dating the King one would suppose. The table was adorned with black candles and ruby-red roses, their fragrance mingling with the crisp scent of snow and spice wafting from the kitchen.  

Dinner was an indulgent affair—succulent meats, rich wines, and an array of desserts that seemed designed for seduction. But as the meal went on, it wasn’t the food that held Lucifer’s attention. His gaze lingered on Y/N, his smirk growing every time her laugh tinkled like bells in the night air. She had given him his confidence back after Lillith’s disappearance, taking years of solitude and hovel and turning it into a year full of joy and love. For that he was eternally grateful.

“You’re staring,” she teased, dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin. Eyes glinting down in a bashful display. 

“Can you blame me? You’re just so beautiful when you laugh” he quipped, leaning closer.  

As the night winded down, they stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the view. The icy air nipped at Y/N’s skin, and Lucifer, ever the gentleman, draped his jacket over her shoulders. Albiet a touch clumsily, hands ghosting over her shoulders in a way that almost made his knees buckle, but that was for him to know only. 

“You’re awfully sweet for someone who’s supposed to be the very scary King of Hell” she said, wrapping herself in his warmth.  

“Ah, but sweetness can be just as sinful when applied correctly,” he replied, his tail swishing playfully behind him.  

Then, with the devilish charm he wielded so effortlessly, Lucifer unfurled his long, pointed tail. Hanging from the tip was a sprig of mistletoe, glittering with enchanted frost. He arched it above their heads, his smile equal parts playful and seductive.  

“Would you look at that? What strange timing,” he said, feigning innocence. “It seems tradition demands a kiss.”  

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms. “You just happened to have mistletoe ready?”  

“Dove, I’m nothing if not prepared,” he said smoothly.  

She stepped closer, the warmth of his presence drawing her in despite the chill in the air. “Well then, who am I to break tradition?”  

Her lips met his in a kiss that was soft but searing, a perfect blend of tenderness and fire. Lucifer’s hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer as if staking his claim. When they finally parted, his golden eyes glowed brighter, his grin impossibly wide.  

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he murmured, his voice a velvet promise.  

Y/N chuckled, brushing a stray snowflake from his hair. “Merry Christmas, Luci.”  

Leaning back in, Y/N’s palm caressed Lucifer’s cheek with a gentle tenderness that took the King off guard though it did not deter him. His tail wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush to his chest. Her body now pressed against him in a heated entanglement of heat and passion, lips locked and hands roaming desparetly grabbing onto anything they could get. Lucifer’s tongue swiped across Y/N’s bottom lip, a plea for a needed access. Granting the request, tongues engaged in an impassioned battle for dominance. 

Pulling away, though only for a moment, Lucifer lips trailed their vigorious assualt on Y/N’s neck. Trailing hot open-mouthed kisses to the soft and supple flesh of her neck, down to her collarbone; his hands slowly peeling her dress down from her shoulders. 

“Luci—we are in public,” Her voice came out in rapid pants, hands coming to curl themselves in Lucifer’s locks. 

“Don’t worry, no one can see us up here, dove.” 

The balcony was high on the fifth floor, shrouded in darkness and low candle light. Out of sight of any prying eyes but close enough to the toe the line of danger. Continuing to pursue his goal, his fingers pulled and allowed the fabric of Y/N’s dress to pool at her feet. Pinning her against the edge of the stone wall, eyes roaming hungrily across her form. 

“No underwear, ducky? Bold move—“

“Only for you, my king.” 

Letting out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan, Lucifer dragged his knuckle over her dripping slit. Marveling at how her body reacted to him, each moan and buck of her hips into his hand, Lucifer was nothing short of mezmerized by his girlfriend’s perfect figure. Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. Diving in, his tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from her needy cunt. Sucking softly on her clit, delving as deep as his tongue would allow. Gripping the wall behind her, eyes shut in blissfull ectasy. 

Biting her lip, attempting to quiet herself, the only thing heard was the pornographic amount of slurping from the now kneeling King of Hell. Taking her lack of noise as a challenge, Lucifer would never admit to using magic to make his tongue larger to increase her pleasure. Greedily sucking at every drop that spilled from her now puffy cunt.  Not even seconds later did her release hit her like a tidal wave and ropes of cum now soaked Lucifer’s face, still lapping and working her through her high. 

Pulling away after a moment, Lucifer looked up at Y/N with dark and blown eyes. Taking in her disheveled form, the way her hair framed her face now shrouded in desire that he caused. And as the snow fell around them, the Prince of Darkness held his queen beneath a winter sky that seemed to burn just for them.  

[honehonn3honey]

What happens to this empty place, waiting for my arrival...

Rook in my heart. You can read the monster list here @lustlovehart

[Alt under the cut]

This is the original version but God, I don’t see anything else and I didn’t want others to get hurt watching

Now here I put my thoughts as I drew him:

I think our beautiful creature doesn't really have a human anatomy, his limbs are long and with very little muscle covering. Their bones could click together if it fully manifested. Claws replacing part of the bony fingers and nails. You could feel the long ribs behind that thick sack

He doesn’t need beyond his big and cool gothic sack to cover his abnormal appearance, after all the is no more shadows and fog for everyone’s eyes

The darkness consumes you from the pores, in each puff of lungs, you could become one with him and he would be delighted

I feel that it is detached from all worldly, but I would keep a thing or two of those who most appreciate... like the feathers of Neige or a brooch of Vil

[skhardwarevers1]

if this post gets like…5000 notes I’ll actually start writing scripts/making storyboards for videos I’ve had ideas about for months

additionally if this gets to 10000 (which I highly doubt it will) I’ll actually work on my abandoned stories, book ideas, and poetry

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

they call me the griever because halfway through a thing I enjoy I’m already sad that it’s closer to being over

[spineless-lobster]

if one more person asks me about college applications i’m going to burst into tears and rip their face off with my bare hands

[lesbiansanemi]

Rereading your kny role reversal au for funsies and I find it hilarious that Mitsuri has all the scary dog privilege in the world but her own bubbliness powers right through that

Mitsuri really decided to marry Shinobu, Obanai, and Sanemi, and not only does her cheerful kindness outshine their, frankly impressive, combined asshole-ery, but she also managed to be the scariest fucking demon out of the four of them despite that, and ya know, I love that for her

[spookymakosharkskizzers]

It’s so strange to me when peoples first reaction to hearing you hallucinate is “gosh that must be so scary”. I wish I could articulate right now exactly what it is that reaction makes me feel but all I I’ve got right now is it’s strange.

[screampied]

#WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER? t. fushiguro

☆ sum. you know girl, usually when someone’s about to get stabbed, they scream—not moan. ghostface is supposed to be scary, intimidating, terrifying. but what happens when he’s tall, hot, and has a scar that runs down the right side of his lip? maybe his motive this time was to make you scream out his name in another way. welcome to act three.

wc. 7.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface!toji, pwp, roleplay, unprotected, slight dacryphīlia, glove / mask kink, scream spoilers + references, dumbification, knīfe play, biting, he's crazy but your pússy's crazier, fīngering, riding his face mask, hair pulling, first time squīrt, cunnīlingus, pússy drunk toji, spīt, praise, dirty talk, petnames.

➤ kinktober mlist.

“now girl, what the fuck was that,” a husky voice that sounds a bit muffled murmurs out to you. you’re laid on the ground, quite literally seeing the life flash before your eyes as the edge of his jagged knife glimmers against the ceiling light. peeking one open, you’re met with the covered soulless eyes of an infamous ghostface mask, and he’s tilting his head at you. “did i hear ya right?”

as he hovers over you, you speak in a breathy voice. growing sheepish, you glance away. “um, hear what?”

“you moaned, doll,” he replies, and the cottony flaps of his costume brush against your skin the closer he gets. as the coolly aerating air turns dead silent for a few moments, you could hear the sounds of his irregular breaths – deep sinister breaths . . and for some reason, it makes your thighs clench, and not in fear. “right as i said i was gonna gut ya like a fish,” and your own breathing hitched once his gloved finger strokes down your lip. “and i put the knife riiiiiight down here,” he slowly drags the prop down your nearly torn top, “you moaned right as i was about to strike. why?”

“i think . . you’re hearing things,” you rub the back of your neck, but you left off yet another moan the second he slides a knee between your legs.

“nah,” the masked man jibes, and it’s as if he’s staring right through your clothes. with a gloved hand he pulls up his mask, only showing part of his face. he pulls it down inches below his nose as you glance at his scarred lips that show. “think i heard quite well, princess,” and he slowly grazes the soft end of the knife further and further down your skin. “besides, like i said earlier. . i wanna play a game—and we can start with me asking,” and he pauses, leaning up close to your shell of your ear, warm breath tickling against your lobe. “you’re not wearing panties right now, are ya, princess?”

right at his words—your thighs stuck together and you felt a shiver run down your spine. it’s cold, and it made your eyebrow twitch at how insanely turned on you were.

usually, most people would scream or run—hell, even fight back. but it’s different when it’s you.

as he continued to straddle over you, you could have sworn you saw this movie before. .

and now, here you were—helpless indeed and on the floor as he hovers his weight over you, waving a his knife—(a knife that looks like a sort of cheap knockoff version of the one michael myers walks around with) in your face while his other hand mockingly cups your cheek.

“and if i’m not?” you mumble, fixating your eyes solely on the hole parts that shield his eyes.

it’s like you were staring at empty black voids, and no matter how hard you squinted – you just couldn’t see him at all. all you could make out was white and black plastic mask, and as he tilts his head again, he’s returning the gaze. fuck, each time he head tilts and cocks his head to a certain degree—it’s like he’s challenging you, taunting you even, and you’d constantly feel your thighs squeeze together tighter and tighter.

“ah, well,” he thinks for a moment, feeling his covered eyes bore at your body. in his mind, you looked so pretty sprawled all out and underneath him. with your chest heaving in and out as he continues to strum his gloved fingers down your exposed skin, he hums.

“maybe i’d just have ‘ta take a look for myself,” and your breath hitches again once he slowly drags the whetted edge of the knife down your polka dot blouse. with a loud tearing ‘shiiiiek’, a few of your buttons go loose as he’s easily dividing through the fabric with the blade. “cute, i’m assuming you’re not wearin’ a bra either,” and you felt yourself throb the moment he pauses his hands, staring at your perked tits. “phew,” he whistles, giving your pretty physique a nice three second stare. “nice rack.”

“you . . aren’t gonna—”

“—what, kill ya? oh, no doll. now that wouldn’t be fun,” he purrs, finishing your sentence.

it was almost embarrassing at how your body responded to him. you didn’t just wanted more, you craved it. staring right back at you were those same dark holes of a mask that you desperately wanted to see his true identity.

just who was he?

but judging from his voice though, it was a raspy low. . somewhat sounding of a way of smoker would speak. the voice sounded a bit older and of course—he had the body shape of a fucking tank.

as he lets off a low sigh, he shrugs his broad shoulders. “you’re too pretty for that. besides, i’m hard ‘n that little moan you did nearly ruined me if i’m bein’ honest.”

as a small impish smile forms against your glossed pursed lips, your nerves lessen. you stare up at the man before exhaling slight sudden relief. so you were gonna be in the sequel, score.

“so . . . what, is this the part where i’m supposed to beg for my life, mr. ghostface?” you had nothing really to lose, so why not play around with him for a bit – reverse psychology.

“actually,” he clicks his tongue, swiping a thumb down the keen edge of his dagger. it’s an eerie dead pause that whistles in the air once his gloved hands brush against your skin before he continues.

“this would be the part where you scream,” and as he presses his mask all the way against face, he’s so close that you get a glimpse of his scarred lips that poke underneath the cover. “but fuck it. since y’er not scared yet, guess i’ll have ‘ta get that heart racin’ one way or another.”

and toji—who was apparently his name, does this in no other way but propping himself right between your legs.

long story short, everything escalated quickly. so quickly that one minute you were on the floor quote and quote “fearing” for your life and the next . . ? you find yourself being tossed on your velveteen cushioned sofa, voluntarily spreading your legs out for him like some slut out of a cheesy predictable horror movie.

if you were being completely honest, the real killer was his tongue . . because for the life of you, you just couldn’t get over how sloppy he moved it in different directions.

toji kept his mask on the entire time, but it’s pulled up just a tad bit to where you’re only getting a tiny glimpse of the lower part of his face. the fabric just barely shields the bottom part of his nose as his scarred thin lips press their way against your sopping folds.

“fuuuck,” you’d whimper, preferring this over death any day.

right away, you spot the scar that slashes straight down the right side of his lip and it’s a small but attractive feature. every few seconds, he’d purposely smear that part of his mouth against your cunt, earning out a candied ‘ooh!’ from you. within seconds, your numbed thighs were already starting to stick together – like glue.

letting off a sharp drawn out gasp, you glance near your nightstand and the alarm that sits above it. the time was a quarter past two . . and well, some would ask how you’d even get yourself in this situation.

truth is, you didn’t really know either but you damn sure weren’t exactly complaining either. toji found you a bit strange though.

usually people would run from him but you . . you moaned right as you were about to meet your maker. weird, and he’s heard countless screams but never once like yours. that’s kind of because yours wasn’t even a scream, it was a literal moan.

and he wanted to hear more and more of it.

it intrigued him – you intrigued him, and he sort of wants to make you scream in a whole other way though, especially since he’s got you right where he wants. sprawled all out, legs fucking spread . .

“do you . . have to keep this stupid thing on?” you breathlessly grouse, a cute pout curling against your lips as your hands grab the top of his head.

it sort of irked you how he kept his ghostface mask on the entire duration he’s positioned between your legs. with a tight grip, you yank him forward and he groans against your cunt. toji peppers sloppy kisses against your pudgy folds before staring up at you, a faint smirk twisting against his own lips. huffing out an annoyed exhale, you grump. “ ‘s not like ‘m gonna turn you in or anything. i never even found ghostface scary anywa—”

toji snickers. “yeahhh, right,” and you shiver, watching with low hooded eyes as he gathers a glossy string of spit in his mouth.

as your legs quivered from the single grip of one of his hands, he spits right on your teary pussy, watching the lustrous trail of slime drag down his chin. “i’ll think about it,” and he laps his own mess right up, dexterously creating nasty slosh sounds with his exaggerated smacking lips.

with a teasing pat of his gloved hand, he smears the slick puddle that rests on your entrance before humming. “cute, seems like y’er pussy’s tryna seduce me though.”

you let off a whimper, not knowing how long your legs could remain open as he’s toying with your clit. fat clothed fingers drag their way down your slobbering cunt, drawing various circles and shapes around your knobbling nub as a breath snatches from your full lungs. “s- shit, spit on it ‘s more,” you’d weep, feeling your own lips part into a curling ‘o’ shape as you’re in carnal awe.

“now, doll,” he’d whisper against your folds, slurping you clean and savoring the taste of your bittersweet fervor on his tongue.

toji brings two thick fingers toward the outer part of your clit before it slowly starts to disappear inside. it’s like a magic trick — you watch them slowly disintegrate inside of your sopping cunt and you whimper, feeling them curl their ways inside.

as he’s preparing to pump both digits inside, your tummy caves in and you let off a sweet moan the second his long digits start to scissor inside of you. “since ‘m gonna spare ya, i think it’s time we set some ground rules,” and as his hot breath continues to fan against your twitching sex—your grip tightens near the top part of his mask. “don’t tell me how to eat, yeah?”

a timid whimper was your response and you watch how his lips carve into a haughty smile. with a second thought, toji spanks your cunt and he hums, hearing the wet back-talking chatter of squelches leave from your pussy.

as you’re twitching and pulsating from the tender stimulation—you feel him starting to lay his long tongue flat. starting from bottom to top, he eats out your cunt as if it was served to him on a silver fucking platter. “afraid ‘m gonna need an answer, little girl.”

“y- yes,” you let off a soft shrilling gasp, feeling his callused fingertips prod deep inside your gummy clenching walls. toji’s gloved digits felt scorchingly warm inside you, and with just a swift motion, he twirls them ‘round and ‘round, barreling each long inch inside of your pretty pussy.

god, if his fingers were this long, you only imagined imagined what his dick would feel like. the feeling alone made your stomach flutter uncontrollably as your teeth sink into the skin coating your bottom lip.

this was bad, this was really really bad . .

you were probably breaking every cliche horror movie rule in the book . . or in this case, the script. you were supposed to run, not open your legs. but, what’s the saying? you only live once, and that’s if you survive his tongue.

toji was ruthless.

his head moves back and forth as he munched on your pussy, playfully nipping the pearly edges teeth against your clit. each time he does that, you’re sensitive and you whine out a sweet battle cry, rutting your hips further into his greedy slick mouth. your legs nearly suffocated him but he didn’t care, and each long stripe that he creates with his sticky tongue earns out a bundle of whiny whimpers from you.

you had no panties on, and he was basically eating you out with nothing but a skirt that’s pulled up toward your waist—clinging against your jerking, active hips. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you abruptly gasp, feeling your legs already starting to weaken.

by this point, he’s not even eating your pussy anymore, he’s damn near making out with it. toji’s making out with your pussy – with tongue, and lots lots of it.

he’s creating darting motions with the pointed tip of his tongue, barely batting a single lash of an eye that his chin’s starting to glimmer with sheeny slick. your sheeny slick. as you occasionally look down, you only see that same part of his face that’s shown—but it makes you throb regardless, just imagining just what he really looked like.

you knew he was tall—that much was apparent, a strong burly build and a cocky persona to match.

“yeah? give it to me then,” he interrupts your thoughts as a wolffish grin spreads across his lips like butter.

toji’s thick fingers resume to mercilessly plummet in and out of you and he feels his jaw locking. your taste—he couldn’t get enough of it, and pretty soon he’s the epitome of pussy drunk.

you tasted so sweet, and you let off a whimper once he pulls up his mask just a little bit further. “heh,” he huffs out, and he stops it just at the hem of his button shaped nose. as that same wry smirk compresses against his lips, you spot his dimples stretching out near the corners. leaning all the way in, toji gives your cunt a three second sniff before cupping his lips over your pulsating cunt. “mmph—actually, hold on doll.”

as you’re panting heavily, a look of confusion marinates against your features once you watch him prepare to take off his mask. with a bubbly ‘pop’, toji slowly slides his fingers out of you before glancing at your impatient face.

“ah ah, close ‘em,” he clicks his tongue, watching your pretty clit twitch at his demand.

you pout, feeling a brief sting as you’re being delayed of your long awaited release. with a cute sigh, you place a hand over eyes, your vision turning completely dark. “good girl . . now,” he huffs lowly, and you hear a bit of shuffling. toji sits you up and you feel something place underneath your legs. his voice was close, and it sounds like he’s near the side of you. “cum on my mask, pretty girl. can ya do that for me?”

“uh, okay,” you shakily reply, feeling him prop up your hips to sit right up against the ghostly mouth part. it’s eerily carved into a long hanging oval shape and you moan—feeling how warm it was from the front. it makes you pulse, knowing that his mouth was just behind that exact spot a few seconds ago.

even though your eyes were still covered with your own hand, you feel a daunting chill run down your spine yet again, sensing his cold haunting presence.

whoever he was, he was watching you right now, get off . . on his mask.

you let off a quiet moan as your hips started to rut against the propped plastic. you were drenched, and a bit of slick sticks down against your thighs.

toji feels his dick strain in his ripped jeans as he openly stares like a stalker — pretty, you looked so pretty like this. grinding your sweet cunt against the mask he wears on a daily. now that he thinks about it, it’d be a pretty good souvenir.

“touch yourself too,” he’d rasp, kneeling down closer to you. toji gets behind you, and you whimper once you feel the frigid edge of his knife slowly drag down your skin. he starts a trail, and he’s safe surprisingly—making sure to not nip your skin, but it’s close enough to where you feel the coldness of the steel.

as your needy whines pitch louder, you find yourself now guiding a hand near your bouncing breasts. a bit of the ripped fabric of your blouse runs against your fingertips and toji feels himself getting more hard just watching you. “yeah, baby. that’s it. get my fuckin’ mask wet so i can taste it after.”

“tojiiii, ‘m cumming—fuck,” and as he’s got one of his own hands grabbing onto your left tit, you end up finishing.

you’re cutely hysterical, creaming all on the mouth part of his mask as shame swells in your chest. “ngh, fuck fuck.” you babble, your thighs submitting defeat as he pulls you back against his chest. it felt hard, and you couldn’t help but imagine how built he probably was.

toji presses a cold kiss near the left side of your neck. his frigid lips makes you whimper as your head tilts to the left.

his touch . . you only wanted more, and he could tell from the way that the hand that was at first cupping your breast now starts to reach toward his wrist. “atta girl,” he whispers, and right as you were about to remove your other hand off your eyes, he places his own back over your face. “nice try, sweetheart. gotta be patient.”

you continue to pout, and toji slides the drenched front part of his mask from underneath your legs and brings it up to his lips. “mhm, would ya look at that,” and as you’re panting on his chest, still frantic from your recent orgasm, you hear him cleaning it off with his tongue.

he trails his tongue to where your cunt sat against the mouth part, lapping it up and relishes in your sweet taste entirely. “fuck, sweetest thing i’ve had in a while.”

you dig your nails into his thigh as you’re trying to get over your high, speaking in a needy voice.

“t.. toji,” and he finds it cute how you’re speaking through gritted teeth. he could tell you were annoyed with him, how you weren’t fond of his teasing at all.

“hm, what is it?” he replies, giving his mask a satisfied glance once he finishes. it shines in the dim light—and he licks his lips as the right side of his mouth twitches into a devious simper.

“can . . can i have a kiss?” and the words came out of your mouth oh so sweetly.

you don’t know what came over you, but your body was just fed up. something was screaming at you, hollering at you to get a taste. you throbbed, secretly yearning to feel his lips crash on yours. the entire time he was buried between your legs, it was all you thought about, constantly.

toji hums, tilting his head as he faces you. “a kiss, huh?” and he’s still got a hand covering your eyes.

he ponders about it for a while before a low guffaw leaves from his thin lips. “aw, you want a taste of yourself too, don’t you dirty girl?” and once you shamelessly nod in response, toji’s shoulders drop. “fine, you’ll get that kiss. c’mere,”

and you could feel him inching closer and closer closer. toji’s cologne was loud—it’s a manly musk of what you think was rosemary and cedarwood.

it practically blinds the insides of your flared nostrils the more he closes the awkward distance between you both. your cunt’s pulses start to quicken before he’s merely just inches away from your lips now. “stupid, stupid girl,” he pulls your bottom lip down with a gloved finger, and that’s when he stares at your pretty plump lips before whispering. “beg me.”

“i’m not gonna—”

“no beg, no fuckin’ kiss,” he cuts you off, and you grumble. it was almost embarrassing at how your pussy gave away your true dirty feelings. you continued to twitch, and you let off a defeated sigh once his smears a thumb over your wet lips.

“please . . please, kiss me,” and as you speak, he continues to softly caress the curvature of your mouth. you could hear him breathing from behind the mask. it was short raspy breaths and what would usually frighten most people, turned you on.

toji runs a hand through his jet black tresses before a cunning smirk pierces the corners of his lips. “that’s more like it,” and his lips were almost touching yours – almost, a mere breath away.

you could never get over how deep his voice. it’s as if he didn’t need a voice changer like the ones they’d always use in the movies. his was naturally just as gritty, just as husky.

“obedient . . good,” and as he playfully licks near your bottom lip, toji grunts, “mouth, open.”

you moan, feeling his hand reach between your legs, squeezing your pussy. once your lips part and your mouth opens, toji spits right inside, staring as your cute tongue tries to catch it all.

it’s quick, and before you knew it – his lips hurriedly crash onto yours. within seconds, teeth starts to clash amongst each other and you helplessly whine in his mouth. this, this was what you wanted. a kiss.

one gloved hand of his remains covered over your eyes whilst another snakes its way between your legs. toji’s rubbing against your cunt, feeling your cute hips grind against him as you try to squirm and writhe. you were still so tender. his mouth was cold, and you can’t help but moan at the literal taste of yourself washing back against your tongue.

you feel his scar that slants down the right side of his lip rub off against your lips and his lips curve into a sly smirk. “nasty girl,” he murmurs between hot kisses, and you gasp once he starts to maneuver quicker circles against your cunt.

you were soaked already, still sensitive from your recent release but that’s when he lies you back down. as you fall down on the sofa, toji deepens the kiss for a few extra seconds, abruptly pulling away. a pretty decorated string of glittery saliva tugs away from both lips and he wipes your wet mouth, snickering. “such a damn baby. got me spoilin’ you already, tch.”

he’s still got your eyes covered, but that’s right when you reach out . . not expecting your hand to grab near his hardened bulge that hides underneath his cloak.

toji pauses, staring at you before you squeeze it and he groans. “what now, doll? still not satisfied?”

“fuck me,” you murmur, but it’s more of a pathetic whine.

you didn’t care anymore—you were at your wits ends. the erotic two words and six letters easily flowed past your lips as if you were dying to say it for the longest, and in this case – you were.

toji’s amused more than anything, and he’s well aware that you’re far not like the others.

this wasn’t just a usual psycho killer versus helpless victim, this was something more . .

“strong words, baby,” he purrs against your ear, licking a stripe down your neck. toji holds your weak rickety hips in place, still shielding your eyes with his palm before showering a good part of your collarbone with a plethora of sloppy kisses.

uh oh, he was starting to get attached. already, he could feel it . . and he knew you were gonna be nothing but a fucking problem in the long run.

a problem he didn’t mind tampering with for a bit.

“say it again,” he whispers, and this time he picks up his knife once more.

it gradually tears down your blouse all the way from the center, openly staring your tits spring open. “tell me what you want me ‘ta do to you again,” and as his husky voice lowers a single octave within each coarse sentence, you squeeze your thighs together.

toji focuses the edge of his knife against your skin and you shiver, feeling it softly brush against the bristles of hair that coat your skin.

the thing that pissed him off though was that you weren’t even scared of him . . no, far from it actually.

you were aroused—hell, maybe even just as crazy as him.

“fuck me, toji.” you repeat, taking it upon yourself to grab the handle of the knife. he raises a brow as he watches, and you bring the wooden end up to your lips, deciding to be a tease and lowering your mouth down it. toji huffs, growing annoyed at your audacity — but fuck, he’s into it.

and all he’s imagining at the moment is your pretty lips that’s wrapped around the handle of his knife being wrapped around his dick instead. you start sucking on it until it taps near the scaled back of your throat, reaching past the roof of your mouth and he scoffs.

brat.

“got some nerve, suckin’ on my damn knife, girl,” and he snatches it away, softly turning you around, pushing you near the right arm of the couch.

you gasp, feeling him swat a hand against your bare ass before he grabs your hips. his movements were so fast that you could barely keep up let alone react. “fine, i’ll fuck you,” and he’s not covering your eyes anymore.

right as you were about to turn around, toji grabs the back of your neck with a gloved hand, tittering. “don’t try me. eyes forward, head down,” and you moan, feeling him pick your hips up—making your rear grind and jostle against his hardening bulge. “ass. fuckin’. up.”

you kiss your teeth, feeling another breath of air leave out your lungs before you whine. toji’s rough, and he’s got a firm grip against your waist before springing out his dick. he grunts, rolling his eyes as he watches you impatiently wriggle your ass, hoping he’d hurry up already.

“can’t wait, can ya baby?” he utters, stroking his length.

as a thumb of his nearly grazes his throbbing vein, his eyes gaze toward your sopping creamy pussy. all wet, and just for him. the antagonizing wait for him to just fuck you like you wanted became almost unbearable, and the second you feel his tip side-swipe against the entrance of your cunt it was over.

a swollen fat tip smacks vigorously against your pussy, and one smack turns into two, then three, then four. .

as he’s slapping his mushroomy cockhead against your drooling pool of heat, you hear a low chortle from behind you. “god, she’s a fuckin’ wet one, ain’t she?” and you whine, hearing yourself squelch each time his angry tip whacks against your poor soddened flaps. ‘whack’ after ‘whack’ and the sounds of his dick slapping against your pussy slowly started to clank through one ear of yours and out the other.

but doing so—the pulsing sensation between your legs only increased, and by now, you were starting to chew on your tongue.

anticipation was eating away at you as you let off a moan, cutely grumbling. “just fuck me already.”

“how ‘bout i leave you ‘n let you fuck yourself,” he snaps back, matching your sass.

oh. you weren’t really used to someone matching your energy—especially a masked man walking around in a ghostface mask but well, that’s besides the point.

toji’s still got a gloved hand wrapped around his hefty length that’s covered in lighting-like twitching veins before he groans.

he’s so fucking hard . . and the more he stares at your pretty sobbing cunt, the more he understands why. “don’t think you’d like that now though, would ya?”

“n- no,” you reply truthfully, letting off a pornographic moan once he starts to align himself between your gaping slit.

it’s fat, and you could tell from the feeling of the size of his monstrous tip alone. you sort of wished you were facing him but alas, you’d just have to use your imagination for now. “fuckk,” you breathe, already starting to feel your eyes rolling back.

the stretch, god the stretch. you thought his fingers was something but it’s nothing compared to his cock. your toes were already curling up, and oh, you knew you were fucked.

toji’s got a few curly black specks of hair that resides near his base—and as he’s slowly easing himself inside, he feels you tightening. right as you do, you feel a vein that runs down his shaft prod.

he feels it – you feel it, and you both hiss in unison. “goddamn,” he grumbles, staring as your own sappy slick starts to glue against his sculptured pelvis. tiny glimmering strands stick and tape against his skin all because of you and it’s just messy. toji smacks your ass one more time before lightly pushing your head into the satiny covered pillow. “move, move those hips or ‘m gonna pull out, doll.”

“mmph—s- so fuckin’ big,” you babble, bringing a bawled up fist into your mouth.

your sweet moans become muffled as his dick’s gradually expanding through your gummy walls, leaving his very mark with his tip. he’s rummaging through every part of you and you gasp—feeling your cunt welcome him wholly, your squelches becoming louder and louder. your tummy starts to churn the more he sinks in deeper and your lips form into a cute gasping shape. “oh, fuck. ‘s gonna break me, toji.”

“pft. don’t be dramatic doll,” he purrs, swatting another smack against your ass. the shape brief sting that only lasts for about five seconds makes you moan once your hips finally starts to move.

it takes a few lengthy seconds before with a wet ‘pop’, he bottoms out. so . . much . . girth, your empty brain was spinning cogwheels, trying to process just how could a guy be this fucking big.

your reaction to how well he stretched you of course, fueled a good portion of his highly cocky ego.

toji’s got a hooked curve too—and you feel it all. toji teasingly gives you one thrust, just one single thrust and you felt like you were gonna snap in half. it was that much power of his hips—you felt the wind get snatched out of you and the prettiest moan left from your lips.

biting down on your lip again, you’re feeling all of his hefty length massage the insides of your cunt. milliseconds shortly past before you then start to feel yourself shamelessly drooling on your split knuckles.

“fuck, fuck,” you chant in a quiet mumble, seeing nothing but inky black as your eyelids continue to flutter open and close.

toji had the kind of size that left butterflies in your tummy – a school of them to be specific, and you felt every single inch of him plummet its way inside. as you’re still babbling incoherent whimpers and whines at how snug he’s buried in you—toji starts to move faster with you.

with two hands, he holds you in place. darkened brows of his crease into a furrow as he sighs. “mhm, atta girl. see, look at you,” and you could hear the playful sarcasm seeping off his tone.

“takin’ it like a fuckin’—champ,” and right at that last word of his sentence, he starts to roll his hips just a bit quicker.

toji tries to match your berserk movement with his own hips, but he ends up beating your pace entirely. you’re trying to keep up but failing miserably and it’s just so cute. . but your face probably wasn’t as cute.

you probably looked a sight—mouth all open, jaw dropped and dangling, eyes bulging, pathetically drooling for more and more and . . you get it.

“hng, harder. fuck me,” you whine, the sound of skin and hips clashing repeating in your ears.

your sloppy cunt’s soaking him from the back, and his backshots were just brutal – killer.

each thrust serves its purpose every time and you’re left speechless. after a while, both bodies start to move rhythmically as your jaw’s just dangling.

damn, randy meeks would be shaking his head, tossing ‘n turning in his grave if he saw this.

under no circumstances . . never ever fuck the masked killer, and yet here you were.

but, who gives a fuck about movies?

you didn’t—not really, and when he had a mean stroke game like toji, you weren’t the type to complain. he’s hitting you deep with his fat splitting tip, filthily cruising his hips into you at such precise vigor until you’re just spouting a whole load of nothin’.

“ugh, right there. right fuckin’ there, fuck,” and you let off a cooing mewl once toji’s hand wraps around your throat.

with a few fingers, he gives you a safe squeeze that earns out a faint gasping croak from the back of your throat. toji uses your neck as leverage as he’s pounding into you rawly, ravaging your insides and all. your pearled clit’s repeatedly getting hit with his plump crown and you gasp, squeaking loudly once he taps against your precious g-spot.

all of a sudden, your brain’s fuzzy and you’re seeing stars—somewhat like a cartoon character. you were silly, literally being fucked silly. “fuuuck!” and it catches you by surprise.

once he reaches past that cute ‘lil spongey barrier of yours, it was over.

you were pronounced dead—dead from cock, and pretty soon you were starting to feel yourself go into a lewd white fantasm for a few seconds.

you’re dumb, dumbly fucked stupid from his sloppy enticing hits that you could barely speak coherently. it felt good, it felt so fucking good, and as you feel his heavy base slam back into you again and again, you start to moan. “yeah, i know, i know, baby,” toji huffs, and your cunt’s just addictive. your walls cling onto him tightly, hugging around him like a vice—threatening to never let go.

your sheer sweltering warmth from the inside makes his head slightly toss back to a certain degree and it’s sexy. if only you were to see it. “god, clampin’ down on me so good. work those hips baby, yeah. give me a fuckin’ show.”

as you try to match his crazed tempo. . eventually, you start to feel a tender feeling arise in the lower part of your tummy.

its familiar, and you can recognize that hot brewing sensation from anywhere. you’re close, and as wanton shrilling whines continue to drag away from your lips you start to spasm.

“fuuucck, toji something’s coming,” you whimper, dragging out your words, and you don’t think it was a regular orgasm.

it was far different . . the feeling was equivalent to someone harshly pressing a palm down on your stomach. your eyes squeeze shut before you repeat yourself through quivering glossed lips. “toji, ‘m gonna—”

“yeah yeah, i heard ya,” he maunders, and he’s feeling himself reaching his inevitable peak too.

it doesn’t take long before he feels the undersides of his meaty thighs starting to burn with hot intensity. toji’s fat cock continues to drag in and out of your goopy walls, hearing you squelch over and over him and he snarls. “fuck,” and he punctuates his thrusts, watching as your ass swiftly slams back into him at such speed. his abs that hide underneath his dark cloak tensing. “same time, baby. finish with me.”

“o.. okay,” you moan, and he’s still got a gloved hand wrapped around your throat the entire time. a thumb of his caresses down your nape, humming at your pretty twitching body underneath him.

it’s a sight he’d love to get used to.

as you’re both chasing your delirious orgasmic peaks—toji presents to your cunt one final thrust that sends your entire body into a crazed stupefied state. your plush cheek near the left side of your face smushes against the pillow before you whimper, starting to feel yourself spritz on him.

your eyes widen as it happens. a spraying geyser shoots out you as you let go—and oh, you’re soaking toji right with you, glossing his entire cock from the base down.

“oh my god, fuck, fuh—fuck!” you sob in craving pleasure, flapping eyelids sticking together from the pretty glassy tears that start to form. so good, it’s a feeling you’ve never felt before and you felt like a weight was gradually being lifted off your shoulders . . including your sweet pussy.

toji finishes seconds later and he groans, stilling his hips against you. creamy velvety bundles of ribbons pours into your cunt and he lets off a low growl. “fuck,” and his hand smacks against your ass again for the nth time.

you felt warm as he’s continuing to spill such a mass amount whilst at the exact same time, you’re drenching his cock – putting faucets to shame at just how damn wet you were.

toji’s cock eventually turns flaccid and soft as his tip and peeled frenulum spits a good amount, watching your body limp underneath him.

with a sly exhausted grin stretching across his scarred lips, he traces his fingers down your spine. “my, oh my,” and you whine, finally finishing. toji stares at your body, feeling you weakly writhe your hips before finally submitting defeat. “did you jus . . fuckin’ squirt on me, pretty girl?”

you did,

and you end up dampening up the cushions of your burgundy colored sofa in the process. you felt like you were floating, panting and heaving ridiculously like a dog. toji brings his hips to a sudden stop, gazing at the ivory wads and ropes of cum that fill inside of your cunt.

slowly but surely . . it starts to race down the crevices of your thighs, splotches of white splattering against your skin. in a dirty, filthy way, it’s pretty – in toji’s mind at least.

he luxuriated at the sight of you all fucked out and speechless. not a word came from your lips except for the occasional whimpers and moaning sobs that would tear out your throat. you were still arched over, moaning once you feel him slowly starting to pull out. “ain’t that a pretty sight,” he rasps, hearing his cock sweetly ‘pop’ out of your creamy fat folds.

you’re oozing out with so so much of his gooey lush cum and it makes him licks his lips. you looked delicious, and he couldn’t help but swipe a finger down your runny cunt, bringing his eager digit up to his lips just to get a taste for himself.

toji was a nasty man—but with the way you tasted, he was even nastier.

as he licks his gloved finger that contains the concoction mess of both sappy liquids, he hums in amusement. “mhm,” and as his leafy viridescent colored eyes linger down towards your cunt, he smears his leaky tip over your pussy.

toji grunts, making sure to paint the entirety of your entrance with his pasty cum that sobs down parched folds. “good girl, good . . fuckin’ girl.”

toji stays like that for a while, and it’s only after an abrupt pausing moment that he makes you turn around to face him. he makes you lie flat on your back, and there, you’re met with the eyes of a handsome smug man. his features were as sly as his attitude, and his ruffled black hair was naturally messy.

“surprise,” he mutters, and you intake a breath once he gets on top of you again. toji doesn’t have the mask on anymore—but he still has on the costume part, a ghoulish black cloak that had slits near the edges of his sleeves. “scared yet?”

“not . . really,” you sheepishly say, slowly trailing your eyes down his body.

squinting just enough, you saw right through the outline of his muscular frame. he was fucking ripped, and you felt yourself throb the moment you started to imagine him wrapping those big burly arms around your—

“figures,” he scoffs, though his tone’s a bit more playful than annoyed. toji runs a big veiny hand through his hair before bringing his watch up to his face. wrinkling his nose, he hums. “gotta run, doll. ‘s been fun.”

a pout pulls against both sides of your lips as he says he has to depart. sure, you didn’t exactly expect him to stay . . well who were you kidding, you sort of did. but you knew he had to go.

your thighs stick together as he remains on top of you, watching him pull his mask back on. with a slightly worn out voice, you murmur. “you can’t stay?”

“no, i can’t stay,” he snickers, knowing you wanted more. toji’s head friskily tilts as you stare at him with a cute doe-eyed expression, still pouting and he rolls his eyes behind the mask. “god, fine. greedy little thing aren’t ‘cha?”

and you hear a bit of shuffling, watching him fish a hand in his pocket as his jeans were now pulled up and made presentable again. toji grabs a sharpie out of his pocket before pulling your waist closer toward him. “tsk. stay still,” and you’re curious to what he was about to do, not daring to move an inch.

you’re all bare and exposed, and you let off a soft exhale once he starts to write something right below your belly button. just a few more inches down and he’d be writing on your pussy.

it lasts for about seven seconds before he stops, adding a heart near the end of what was a ten digit phone number.

“alright, princess. here’s my number. whenever you’re feelin’ horny, just give me a call, yeah?”

and before you could even reply, he leans up to you—pulling up his ghostface mask over his lips, giving you a long teasing kiss. you moan into his mouth, smelling a scent of his cologne before he leisurely pulls away. toji whispers against your lips for one final time before pressing a thumb toward your throat.

“i’ll always come back.”

[audristarzz]

KOSA PASSES SENATE 7/30/24

Kosa has unfortunately passed the Senate on a 91-3 vote. I want this to be clear, It’s not going into effect, it still has to get to the House but I believe there will be a break for the month of August which gives us A WHOLE MONTH!! to call your HOUSE representatives and tell them to vote NO on Kosa. It’s not over yet so many people told their senators and representatives that they didn’t want KOSA. We can do it again, PLEASE do not panic and give up!! I know it’s scary I’m very scared right now myself but if we go silent that’s how it’s going to pass the House and get signed to the president. Let’s try to stop that from happening!!!

Call your house representatives!!!!there is more opposition in the House, we can stop it. BLOW UP THEIR PHONES!! edit: hi everyone!! I’ve made a change to the way I worded this post, I would like to apologize about the confusion I may have caused. When I had meant by “barley passed the Senate” i meant it as a way of saying how so many people voiced their concerns for so long (I first ever found out about Kosa on 7/19/23) which lead it just now getting to the Senate floor for a vote due to the pushback and feedback they had gotten. I apologize if 1. I had confused anyone and 2. If I did not word this right lmao :,) keep calling you’re all doing great!! - audri⭐️

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FOUR

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion; health risks; insecurities. chapter one┆chapter two┆ chapter three

You were curled up next to Rafe, head on his shirtless chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breath.

You could hear the crash of the waves. His fingers were tangled in your hair, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

“Do you ever think about the future?” You asked, not even sure why you said it. 

Maybe it was the mood, the quiet.

He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your cheek.

“Future? Baby, we’re in the future right now.” He tilted his head to look down at you, his blue eyes catching the last bits of sunlight, making them almost glow. “What more do we need?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious. What’s next for us?”

He was quiet for a second, and you held your breath, waiting. Sometimes Rafe had this way of avoiding real talk. He’d joke, or deflect, or turn the conversation back to something easy.

“You,” he said, his voice low like he was confiding you a secret. “You’re what’s next. What’s always next.” His arm tightened around you, pulling you into his lap. 

You smiled, that stupid, giddy smile that probably made you look ridiculous, but you didn’t care. His breath tickled your forehead as he kissed you there slowly.

He was so sure in that moment, like nothing could touch you two.

You lifted your head, just enough to look at him.

His face was so clear, each detail spot on, you could reach out and touch it. His messy beach hair, the way it fell into his eyes, his crooked smile, that scar on his chin from when he’d wiped out on his bike in high school.

All of him was yours.

“Promise?” You asked, like a part of you needed to hear it again, needed the reassurance.

Rafe leaned in, his lips grazing yours before he whispered against them, “Promise.”

He had this way of making all feel so simple, like the future wasn’t some big, scary thing.

“I’m never letting you go,” it sounded more like a prayer coming from his lips, fingers tracing small circles on your arm, sending these tiny electric shocks through you. “You’re stuck with me, Thornton.”

“Good.”

But then something changed.

His grip loosened. His warmth started to fade, and you blinked, confused. You lifted your head, trying to find his eyes, but his face was different.

Blurred. Distant.

“Rafe?” You whispered, reaching for him, but he wasn’t there.

The warmth was completely gone, replaced with cold, empty air. You turned, searching for him, but all you saw were shadows where he used to be.

The waves crashed louder, and you realized you were alone. Just like that, everything was gone, everything he promised, was gone.

You sat up in bed, gasping, hands instinctively going to your stomach in the darkness of your bedroom.

He wasn’t here. He was with her. You were alone. 

Pregnant.

You tried to stabilize your breathing, wiping away the tears that had slipped out during your sleep. The bed felt too big, empty without him. And the memory of his touch, his words, felt cruel now. 

You stared up at the ceiling wondering how a memory could feel so real, so vivid, but that was all it was. Just a memory. Just another piece of the past you kept chasing.

You looked down at your stomach, your hand still resting on the bump, if you could call it that. You weren’t showing at all, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. You knew it was.

Your very first appointment was in a few hours, and the thought of it made you want to throw up.

You needed to know how far along you were. It would be easier to stay in bed and let the what ifs spiral in your head than to face them, but you didn’t hold that privilege anymore.

You dragged yourself out of queen-sized bed, avoiding the mirror as you moved around the room.

You didn’t want to see your reflection right now, you dreaded facing the girl who had let herself get into this mess.

You threw on a pair of loose, old sweats and a hoodie, one that swallowed you whole, hiding everything.

The kind of outfit that made you feel invisible, and right now, that’s exactly what you wanted. It’s not like anyone around here cared much anyway, rich girl or not, kooks were experts at pretending. 

You grabbed your keys, your phone, and the one thing you couldn’t forget today —courage.

One foot in front of the other. One breath at a time.

The appointment was soon, and you needed to get there. You kept reminding yourself that you’d figure it out once you knew how far along you were, everything would make sense after that.

The drive there was a mess, the anxiety and anger, you didn’t want to acknowledge today were taking turns messing with your head.

You didn’t want to think about how you’d once imagined a future with Rafe, how he’d promised you a lifetime under the sun.

You could never feel guilty about keeping this from him. He’d made his choices, and now you had to make yours.

You rolled up in your car and had to park in the visitor lot, trying to sneak in like you weren’t a whole mess of nerves behind the wheel of a brand-new Range Rover.

It was practically empty, which was fine by you, less people to run into, less eyes on you, since every second you spent there was a second someone could recognize you.

Someone could see, that was the last thing you needed — for this to become some juicy little rumor for the Kildare gossip mill to chew up and spit out. 

You pulled your oversized sunglasses lower on your face, hoping they’d hide the fact that you were shaking.

You hated the fact that you were even in this position as you sat there, tapping your foot impatiently, checking the clock every five minutes like it was some kind of countdown to freedom.

Every noise from the hallway made you flinch, like any second someone familiar would burst through the door, see you there.

You winced in horror when your name was called out, following the nurse leading you down a sterile hallway that smelled of antiseptic. You tried to keep your mind off the fact that this was the first step toward the most life-altering decision you’d ever have to make. 

"The doctor will be in soon."

Times like these you wished you’d chosen a private clinic, but you had to avoid as many kooks as possible, even if it meant slumming it in this hospital. 

This was real.

Sitting down on the exam table, the paper crinkled under you, the sound making you cringe. You felt so small in that room, so alone. You’d always had someone—Rafe, even Topper. But right now, it was just you.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the table as you waited.

It felt like forever before there was a knock on the door, and the doctor entered.

"Hi, I’m Dr. Madison," she greeted you, offering you a smile as she sat down on the stool beside you. "How are you feeling today?"

What the fuck were you supposed to say? That your life was falling apart? That you didn’t know what to do? 

So you settled for a, “"I’ve been better," looking anywhere but at her.

She nodded like she understood, she’d most likely heard it all before. 

"Alrigh’, we’re just going to take a look and see how far along you are, okay? I’ll need you to lay back."

You did as she said, leaning back against the stiff pillow, trying to relax. 

"This is going to be a little cold," she warned as she reached for the ultrasound gel.

A little? You nearly jumped off the table as the gel hit your stomach, cold and slimy, like ice against your skin. You winced but tried to keep still as she spread it over your lower abdomen.

The machine whirred to life, and she placed the probe on your stomach. You sucked in a breath, trying not to cry as the screen lit up with grainy images.

She moved the probe slowly, methodically, her eyes glued to the monitor, and you couldn’t breathe. 

You forced your eyes to the ceiling, refusing to look at the monito, refusing to see. You couldn’t let yourself get attached, not like that.

If you saw what was on that screen—if you saw the shape of something, anything—it would kill you. Your breaths were shallow, and your fingers clenched the sides of the exam table, gripping the paper until it tore under your hands.

Dr. Madison was quiet as she moved the probe over your skin, you knew she was seeing something. You could hear the beeping of the machine, the faint hum of the monitor.

"Okay. Looks like you’re about thirteen weeks along."

"How long is that?"

"Almost 3 months, give or take."

No, that couldn’t be right, you’d barely felt any different.

You were at thirteen weeks. Just over the line.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry.

 "Thirteen?" you repeated, like maybe if you said it out loud, it would make more sense. But it didn’t.

"Alright," you told her, voice even, like that number wasn’t echoing in your head, smashing through the calm you’d been faking this whole time. 

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Madison eyes scanned your face, probably trying to gauge how much of this you were even absorbing. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

A lot? That didn’t even begin to cover it.

The doctor cleared her throat gently. “In North Carolina, after twelve weeks, the options for termination become much more limited unless it falls under specific conditions like rape, incest, or a fetal anomaly. I know this might be overwhelming, but I’m here to walk you through what’s possible.”

You nodded, but it was a lie. You weren’t hearing any of it, you were already listing other possibilities, another place.

Your mind was a step ahead, planning out the details, flights, or maybe driving. Somewhere where no one would ask questions, where you could walk in and get this over with.

Just slip away for a couple days.

She kept talking, saying something about other options, but you weren’t hearing it. It sent your heart into a stampede.

"Thanks, Doctor," you said when you realized she was done speaking, your voice perfectly polite, perfectly controlled. 

It felt like you were watching someone else speak.

You were nodding like you understood like you had a plan. Inside? You were screaming. Your thoughts were a mess, colliding into each other—Oh my God, what now, what the fuck are you going to do? So much more work just because you were stupid enough to wait.

Dr. Madison gave you this list—appointments to schedule, things you should and shouldn’t do, prenatal vitamins to pick up. She might as well have been speaking a different language for all you heard. 

You mumbled something that sounded like “thanks” as she handed you the prescription, barely glancing at the paper. 

“Is there really nothing I can do?”

You couldn't confide your plans to her, for obvious reasons.

“I can’t advocate for any illegal options, but I understand your concern. If you were just a week earlier, we could have discussed a simple outpatient procedure. However, now you’re facing a more complex situation.”

You never felt so frustrated in your life, “But I’m—I can get you anything. You don’t understand, I can pay—”

“Miss Thornton,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet sympathetic, “I know you’re not trying to bribe me right now. I need you to understand that legality and ethics come into play here. What you’re suggesting isn’t something I can support or even discuss further. We have to work within the framework of the law.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the temptation to lash out at her.

“So that’s it, then? I’m just supposed to accept that I’m stuck with this?”

“There are still options we can explore together. We can discuss what’s next in terms of prenatal care, adoption, or even resources that might help you if you choose to carry the pregnancy to term. But I can’t ignore the fact that you’re beyond the legal limit for a straightforward abortion.”

You blinked rapidly, “Adoption?”

The idea of keeping the baby made your stomach bend into a different shape, but that alternative felt just as wrong.

She looked at you with genuine empathy.

“I understand that this is overwhelming. The decision is ultimately yours, but I need to emphasize that time is of the essence, and the choices you make today will have lasting implications.”

Then she was gone, leaving you alone in that sterile room with your head spinning.

You couldn’t even fucking remember the last time you felt normal. Now, you were staring down the barrel of a pregnancy you didn’t even know was this far along. The doctor’s speech about vitamins, checkups, and avoiding alcohol bounced off around in your head.

You swallowed down the nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness, grabbed your purse, and walked out like nothing had just changed. 

You shoved the papers into your purse without a second thought, your mind already screaming to get out, to run, to go somewhere.

Anywhere but here.

As you walked out into the waiting area, you spotted a mother with her toddler, the kid giggling and playing with his toys. Would your baby be that happy? Would they giggle like that?

No, no, you couldn’t go there.

Your fingers were numb as they fumbled for your keys, and you somehow managed to get into the Rover.

The second the door slammed shut, the tears you’d been restraining started to fall.

All you could think about was getting far, far away from here, somewhere no one would recognize you, where people didn’t know your last name or expect you to show up to some debutante ball with a well-behaved husband, a kid on each arm, perfectly polished.

"Fuck..." you whispered through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut like maybe that could make it stop. But it didn’t. Your whole body was trembling, hands shaking so hard you couldn't hold the wheel right.

You leaned your forehead against the steering wheel, trying to catch your breath.

Thirteen weeks.

You couldn’t stay here, in this parking lot. You needed to go somewhere safe, somewhere that made sense. You needed them.

Without really thinking, you turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the lot. 

You didn’t even know where you were going at first, your body knew, the same familiar route you’d taken too many times. You didn’t realize where you were going at first, but once you passed the last stoplight before the cemetery, it hit you.

You parked haphazardly, not caring if your car was straight or if anyone saw. This was the only place you could think of. The only place that wasn’t ruined by all the mess in your life. 

Your parents. Your sister.

Their graves were tucked away in the back corner, under the big oak tree that had been there for as long as you could remember. You parked the car and got out, the ground crunching under your feet as you made your way to them. 

You sank to your knees in front of their headstones, your fingers brushing against the cool marble as if touching them could somehow make them feel closer. They’d been gone for five years, and no matter how many times you came here, that fact never got easier to swallow.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out, stopping to bite down on your bottom lip hard to keep from completely breaking down. “I’m so... I’m so fucking lost.”

The wind rustled the leaves above you, and for a second, you wished it would just take you away too. Make everything disappear.

“I’m pregnant.” You spit the words out, voice cracking, like admitting it was burning your throat. “Thirteen weeks,” you added, saying it out loud for the first time. Your hands curled into fists, fingers digging into the grass.

The tears came back, harder this time, and you bent forward, clutching your stomach, forehead pressing into the ground as if you could just bury yourself there. 

“I can’t—I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Your voice broke completely, turning into a sob that you couldn’t stop. You were crying so hard you couldn’t even breathe, gasping, like you were drowning in it. 

“Why aren’t you here?” you cried, “Why did you leave me? Why did you—” but the words caught in your throat, turning into another round of weeping.

You stayed for a long time, curled up on the ground, crying so hard it hurt, until the tears finally slowed, until you felt empty, drained.

Afterwards, you sat back, wiping at your swollen eyes with the back of your hand.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, this time softer, “And I can’t... I can’t tell him. He’s with her, and I—I just can’t.”

You sniffed, cleaning your nose with your sleeve, feeling ridiculous and broken all at once.

Your breath hitched again as you forced yourself to stand up, even though every part of you wanted to collapse back onto the ground. 

They were gone, it was just you. Alone. You think that’s why there was this tiny persistent voice in the back of your brain whispering things you weren’t ready to hear.

This was a chance, wasn’t it? To finally have someone again, someone you didn’t have to say goodbye to.

The second the thought crossed your mind, you felt a gush of panic, a nauseating conviction that you were nowhere near capable of raising a child. You barely remembered to take care of yourself, so how could you possibly take care of a baby?

It felt so fucked up to you, to think this could be a “fresh start” or something like it—no, you weren’t naïve enough to believe that. Not when you’d barely coped to get through the last five years.

You remembered the doctor’s voice, factual, mentioning adoption.

Carrying this baby only to hand it over to someone else—someone who might be better equipped—Could you do that? Carry a piece of your family’s future, only to give it away? It felt wrong.

You were halfway to your car, still wiping the tears from your face, when you heard someone call your name.

“Hey... Is that you?”

You froze. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone, especially now. Not here, not like this.

Turning slowly, you saw her — Sarah Cameron, Rafe’s sister — standing by her mom’s grave.

She was holding a bouquet of wildflowers, brown eyes narrowing as she took you in. She looked like she'd been here a while, but the moment she saw your state, she dropped what she came here to do.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked, her voice rising with worry.

Her eyes, so different from Rafe’s, scanned over you, taking in your bloodshot eyes, the messy hair, the way your clothes were dirty from sitting on the ground too long. 

You hadn’t taken sides when her and Topper split up; you’d just known, deep down, that they weren’t right for each other. He had this stubborn, idealized version of her that she could never live up to, and that had been the beginning of the end.

You opened your mouth to say something, to tell her you were fine, that you didn’t need her sympathy right now. Instead, you just stood there like a fucking idiot, eyes wide, as Sarah dropped the flowers and rushed to your side.

“Hey, hey,” she panicked, as if she was talking to a wounded animal. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Sarah touched your arm gently, and that’s when it hit you, the fear, the panic, the loneliness — it overwhelmed you.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, holding on tight.

You didn’t even care how desperate it looked, how messed up you were right now. You just needed someone.

She froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then she softened, her arms wrapping around you tightly. She was warm, solid, and so there, and the moment she hugged you back, the floodgates opened for the millionth time that week.

You started crying again, silent but hard, your face buried in her shoulder as your whole body shook.

Sarah didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions, just focused on holding you tighter, her hand smoothing over your back like she was trying to calm you down. The kindness of it, the warmth,you hadn’t grasped how much you needed it until right now.

“Shh, it’s okay,” her voice was soothing. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You hadn’t seen her in months — not since everything went down with her and Rafe after Ward died.

The whole family had fallen apart after that.

Sarah had cut ties again, another fallout with Rafe. Things between them were always like a ticking time bomb, and Ward’s death had blown everything wide open. You knew they hadn’t been on speaking terms since.

It made this moment even weirder, seeing her here, of all places. She looked different, too, she was carrying her grief, her pain, that wild spark in her eyes a little more dim than you remembered.

As you pulled away from the hug, you blinked through the tears, and her face came back into focus. She was still looking at you, her brows knitted with worry, the wildflowers she’d brought for her mom now forgotten on the ground behind her. 

She looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but she was waiting for you to speak first.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you finally said something, trying to wipe your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. It was a lame thing to say, but you couldn’t find any better words.

Sarah gave a small, sad smile, shrugging a little. 

“Yeah, I just… I come here sometimes. To see my mom.” Her voice was quieter than usual, and you could hear the strain behind it, “I guess I needed it today.”

You understood the feeling all too well.

You both stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and you could tell she was dying to ask why you were here. Why you looked like you’d just been rolling around in the dirt. 

Instead, she said, “You okay? I mean, really?”

In some weird way, you’d always thought you’d be able to keep this part of yourself locked away, hidden and safe where no one could see it

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, the lie slipping out too easily. “Just… rough day, you know?” Your voice was hoarse, still shaky from the crying.

Sarah frowned, not convinced. She stepped closer, her hand hovering near your arm like she wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if you’d let her.

"You sure? You don’t look fine."

You forced a smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Just needed some air. It’s been a lot.” You didn’t want to get into it, didn’t want to unload everything. 

She sighed, her shoulders slumping just a little. 

“Okay. But… you know if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here, right?”

You blinked, not really sure how to answer to that, nodding away, hoping she’d drop it.

“I know I was just Rafe’s little sister,” she continued with pursed lips, “but you’ve always been like a big sister to me. Okay? Him being an asshole to both of us doesn’t change that. Ever.”

You could see she meant it. This wasn’t just some passing offer out of pity, Sarah was genuinely worried, wanting to be there for you.

You just nodded dumbly.

Sarah smiled softly with that same old Cameron determination. “Seriously. Whatever’s going on, I’m here.”

You stepped back, breaking the small bubble of comfort, you didn’t even realize you’d let her create.

“I should probably go,” you awkwardly muttered, brushing your hair out of your face and trying to straighten out your hoodie like that could somehow make you seem more put together. “But thanks, Sarah. Really.”

She just watched you with that worried look still across her face, but then she nodded. “Anytime.”

You turned to leave, feeling her eyes on your back as you walked away, your steps slow on the grass.

The loneliness had been suffocating, and even though you didn’t tell her anything, just hearing Sarah say she was there, that she still saw you as family—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

It wasn’t like anything was magically better.

You used to think this island would keep you safe forever, that it was big enough to hold your problems. 

Now, it felt like it was shrinking around you.

You were curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on your knees.

You’d googled “abortion options United States,” expecting answers, but all you found were long lists of restrictions, rules, states drawing hard lines.

You already knew that in North Carolina, you were already past the point of no return. So you kept digging, checking every single state until you found one, a random thread on some forum, that talked about New Mexico.

No restrictions on timing.

You scrolled, following link after link, getting deep into some Reddit threads, reading accounts from women who’d done it, who’d had to pack up their whole lives, fly out, handle everything on their own.

No one to tell, just a flight, a few days’ stay in a place that looked nothing like home, just to try and get back to normal. The whole time you were reading, this weird sense of relief and fear entwined in your gut. 

So you can get out of this.

By the time you shut your laptop, your head was pounding but at least you had something that felt like a plan.

The next morning, you woke up before the sun, tossing on yesterday’s clothes and brushing your hair as best you could with one hand. You scrolled through the numbers you’d scribbled down last night and dialed the first one.

You had to it straight away, without a chance of backing out. So you closed your eyes with all your might and hit call.

A woman’s voice picked up on the fourth ring.

“Women’s Health Center, this is Amanda. How can I help you?”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal. Like you weren’t shaking like a leaf.

“Hi. Um, I’m calling to see about scheduling… an appointment. I’m about thirteen weeks.”

“We do have availability. Our next spot is ten days from now.”

Ten days. Shit. Could you wait that long, or was that too soon? Shouldn't you think about it some more?

Maybe you needed more time.

Or maybe you shouldn’t be doing this at all.

You were already running through a hundred different what-ifs, a panicked mental list of everything you hadn’t thought through.

“Is that… is that the soonest?” You surprised yourself by asking.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could hear the kindness in Amanda’s voice.

“Yes, it’s our first available spot for a procedure beyond twelve weeks,” she informed you, “We’d also want to complete a few assessments with you, along with some necessary paperwork and counseling. I can walk you through everything if that helps.”

You nodded automatically, realizing a second too late she couldn’t see you. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

“I’ll go over a few things with you, so you’re prepared. Do you have a pen handy?”

You grabbed a random envelope and pen from the countertop, jotting down every detail.

“You’ll need a form of ID, proof of residency—we’re required to check for that. Some basic insurance information if you have it. You’ll also have some health assessments here when you arrive, mostly standard but including a psychological evaluation just to ensure everything’s covered from a health perspective.”

It was all just words, logistics. You weren't exactly processing the information, just robotically writing it down.

“There’s also a mandatory counseling session we’ll need to go through. In case you have questions, or concerns. This will all be confidential, but it’s for your safety, both physically and emotionally.”

“Right,” you said, just to say something. You didn’t know if you even wanted to talk about it, not with her or anyone. You just wanted this to be over with.

“The procedure itself is straightforward, but it’s still a surgery. It’ll last anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes, with a little more time afterward for recovery. We’ll go over any complications with you once you’re here—risk of infection, bleeding, discomfort. We make sure you’re clear on what to expect before anything happens.”

You forced yourself to nod, then remembered she couldn’t see you. “Got it. I’ll—yeah, I’ll get the paperwork together.”

"Just one last thing," Amanda added, "Given the nature of the procedure, we ask that you bring a companion along, someone to stay with you. They don’t have to be in the room, of course, but they’ll need to be present to help you get back safely after."

Your hand stopped. A companion?

"What?"

The small sense of peace was gone in a heartbeat.

You wanted to tell her that it would be fine, you’d figure it out, because, rationally speaking, who could you ask or who would you even trust with this?

"It's a requirement,” Amanda clarified, “For your safety. You’ll need someone there with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Right. So, like… a friend? Or…” You trailed off, trying to hide the fear overcoming your senses.

“Exactly,” she said. “A friend, a family member—just someone you’re comfortable with. It’s standard procedure for anything this involved.”

A friend. Family. Someone who could sit in that waiting room and just… know everything. You didn’t even have anyone who could know you were pregnant, let alone be with you for this. 

“The total will be around $3,500, which we typically split into a down payment and a final balance due at the time of the procedure. We can take payment in cash, card, or even a wire transfer if you need that flexibility. We’ll also require a 20% deposit to hold your spot, which you can pay over the phone now or through our secure online portal.”

You glanced at the envelope where you’d jotted down notes, biting your lip as you stared at the numbers. “Right, um, yeah, I can do the deposit now.”

“That’s perfect. One moment, please.” There was a click as she transferred you, and while you waited, you blinked down at the deposit amount. 

Seven hundred, you thought. Seven hundred dollars just to hold a place. It was nothing to you and yet it felt monumental.

A robotic voice greeted you, and you keyed in the card information, watching the screen as it processed. The payment cleared, and you felt the strangest sense of finality.

It was real, stamped and sealed.

Amanda returned to the line, “Thank you for taking care of that. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

“No, that's all. Thank you."

“Of course. We’ll see you in ten days.”

Now you were at this god for saken country club brunch. Why you even came, you had no idea.

Maybe it was a pathetic attempt to feel normal. 

You were trying so hard to look casual, like you hadn’t just been on the phone with a stranger, scheduling the most personal appointment of your life.

Thankfully, Ruthie had canceled last minute — some emergency with your cousin, no doubt. Small miracles. The last thing you needed was her crazy ass analyzing everything you did.

The spread of food on the table looked like a minefield of smells.

Just the sight of the eggs benedict made you want to hurl on your seat, and the fruity smell of the mimosas wafting through the air was…torture.

You’d kill for a sip, maybe even two. 

You were watching the sunlight catch on the bubbles, sparkling like they were tauting you. The craving was there, whispering thoughts that felt equal parts impossible and unavoidable. The idea hovered, tempting you with a cruel promise.

A few mimosas could maybe make this go away, couldn't it? Maybe you’d get lucky and this nightmare would just end on its own.

But the thought made you sick.

You could almost feel it, this new life clinging to you, sticking around no matter how much you wished it’d leave. There was some echo of a moral sense—some annoying, reasonable, voice within your head that wouldn’t let you grab the damn mimosa even though your fingers were twitching for it.

What was the problem if you were getting rid of it anyway?

You forced yourself to look away from the mimosas, knowing that just one glass might make you feel something—anything—other than this sick dread.

With an effort, you forced yourself to say, “Water, please.”

Of course, the universe just had to have its laugh, because the one bringing it wasn’t just any waiter.

It was Sofia. 

How come everyone got a break from shitty things happening to them, and you didn’t?

You must’ve been really awful in your past life.

Perhaps you were one of those medieval villains who ordered people to be drawn and quartered, or some spoiled empress tossing servants into dungeons for looking at you wrong.

How else could you explain it? Life kept pilling more shit on top of you. Or maybe it was less about karma and more about some fucked up endurance test. You were still here.

Rafe’s latest… girlfriend? Hookup? Whatever the hell they were, she had that title, and now she was in front of you, all fresh-faced, her apron hugging her like she’d just walked out of some pinterest brunch board.

Her hair was pulled back in this cute little bun, and her face held that perfectly innocent smile that made you want to scream.

She was practically glowing. 

Her skin had that effortless, sun-kissed warmth like she’d just gotten back from the Maldives or something. Not a shadow under her eyes, not a single stray hair — just this easy, perfect beauty that looked even more surreal under the soft morning sunlight.

It was ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you felt like a mess. Dark circles, a slight breakout on your chin, and an overall look of someone who hadn’t slept in… weeks? or was it months?

The last good night before nausea became a part of your daily life, and the constant anxiety kept you up at all hours, staring at the ceiling and wishing it’d all just disappear.

And here she was, gliding around like she was untouched by anything so messy, so…human.

You glanced down at your outfit, the pristine, tailored Miu Miu set from the new collection —the cropped blazer was light and airy, perfectly cinched at the waist, with sleeves just long enough to make it feel sophisticated but breezy, paired with a sleek, high-waisted mini skirt, the whole ensemble skimmed your frame effortlessly, made just for you.

You knew you looked expensive, the kind of look people envied, even if they’d never admit it. 

Every stitch, every button on this outfit screamed privilege and class, and yet here you were feeling like some tragic, half-dead version of the old you.

Why the fuck were you even comparing yourself to her? She was still a pogue, for god’s sake.

Rafe’s latest toy or project or whatever, you had no business even wasting brain cells on her. So what if she looked a little too chipper, too perfect? 

She wasn’t worth the mental energy.

Just as you forced yourself to refocus, Sofia reappeared, setting a glass of water in front of you with that same innocent, syrupy smile.

“Here’s your water,” she chirped.

You hated that sound. 

She didn't look or sound in-your-face or territorial, more salt on an open wound.

Just hours ago, you were piecing together plans to get rid of the very thing that tied you to Rafe, and now here she was. 

You gave the glass a pointed look and then raised your eyes to meet hers. “I asked with ice.”

No, you didn’t.

You were supposed to be above this kind of petty bullshit, weren’t you? But the bitterness rooted in your gut like the mimosas you wanted so desperately.

“Oh?” Her face froze, that little smile twitching just a bit. “You did? I must’ve heard wrong. I’ll be right back with it.” She looked genuinely flustered as she turned to head back to the bar, her apron fluttering behind her. 

You caught yourself feeling the tiniest bit pathetic.

An unspoken vendetta against the girl serving water? Really? You almost felt a little ridiculous… almost.

“Oh, beautiful girl!”

It was Mrs. Aldridge, an old friend of your mother’s, all pearls and Chanel, her wrinkled hands wrapped around her mimosa.

“How’s your darling Rafe? I haven’t seen you two in ages!”

Instead of thinking better about it, your eyes slid over to Sofia.

She was setting the glass down, her face draining of color, frozen mid-action like a deer caught in headlights. It was almost too perfect.

You were gonna have fun with this, putting on your best sympathetic casually as if you’d had this conversation a hundred times. 

“Oh, we’re not together anymore,” you said, tone dripping with faux sweetness as you nodded in Sofia’s direction. “She is.”

Mrs. Aldridge’s eyes widened, almost bulging out of her head as she followed your gaze, putting two and two together with the slow, scandalized horror that only old-money kooks could manage.

You could hear her brain struggling to comprehend the fact that Rafe Cameron was now involved with the server.

The other women at the table leaned in, whispering behind manicured hands and designer sunglasses, eyebrows shooting up as they stole obvious glances at Sofia.

She was still standing there, stunned, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something. You half-expected her to look annoyed, maybe give you the scathing glare you’d be giving her all morning.

Instead she looked like she wanted to disappear into the woodwork.

“Oh dear…” Mrs. Aldridge’s voice trailed off, her eyes scanning her from head to toe with the kind of judgmental precision only years of country club experience could bring.

She cleared her throat as if she could somehow undo the fact that the help had captured Rafe Cameron’s attention.

“I suppose he’s… rebelling, then?” Another old lady muttered, eyebrows raised in suspicion, already delighted by the gossip forming on her tongue.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Who knows? That’s Rafe for you.” 

You took a sip of your water, feeling satisfied as murmurs spread across the table, surprise and judgment all directed squarely at Rafe and Sofia, who looked like she might faint on the spot.

You couldn’t lie — it was the most fun you’d had in weeks.

“Such a sweet girl,” Mrs. Aldridge mused, her gaze fixed on Sofia, who was now engaging another table with her bubbly personality. “But bless her heart, she doesn’t quite belong here.”

“Definitely not,” you clicked your tongue, allowing the disdain to seep into your voice, even as a small part of you felt like a spineless bitch for feeding her to the sharks.

“New money, if you ask me. I can’t take them seriously. Remember when Ward was just a pogue with big dreams, trying to make a name for himself.”

You saw her again, just a gimplse of her still taking orders with that big grin, still doing her job.

This was exactly what you’d wanted, right?

To see her squirm in her hand-me-down shoes, to show her the world she’d trespassed on wasn’t as welcoming as she might have believed.

But your conscience decided to make an apperance, one more time, slipping in with a knowing sigh. You wanted to hurt Rafe, not her.

This was cruelty, plain and simple, the girl was only trying to survive.

She was dealing with these judgmental eyes and assumptions, probably used to being reminded that she didn’t belong, that she didn’t measure up, and you were sinking to that same level of entitlement and superiority.

The satisfaction wasn’t as sweet as you’d thought it would be. Dragging her into it was cheap, easy, like pushing someone off balance simply because they happened to be standing there.

You forced a giggle to match the others, playing the charade, but inside, something started to feel uncomfortable. You knew what it was like to be scrutinized, to have them pick you apart, to whisper behind your back.

You remembered how much it hurt.

To these people, you were only steps away from that same old judgment. If they knew about the appointment...their conservatives asses would ruin your reputation.

They’d tear into you in the same way, a scandal spread in manicured lawns and private golf courses.

Mrs. Aldridge leaned in conspiratorially, her aged perfume filling the air. “If he truly cared for her, he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself like this.” She sighed, looking at you like she expected you to agree.

You took a breath, one that felt painful, because were you really about to do this shit?

“It’s Rafe’s life,” you replied, shrugging. “Maybe she makes him happy. Who knows?”

The table quieted, a few eyebrows raised, flabbergasted that you hadn’t indulged in more snide remarks. At the end of the day, the life you wanted — it wasn’t this.

Maybe it was time to let some of it go.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[chuluoyi]

my boyfriend will kick your ass !

- fushiguro megumi x reader

it's a date gone wrong when you get into an argument with your aloof boyfriend. but will he save you when it counts?

genre/warnings: tw. street harassment, catcalling. hurt/comfort, arguments and reconciliation, protective!megumi and fluff !

note: i miss my emo boi :(

general masterlist

“Stay back!”

This is an utter plot twist. When you came out of your apartment today, all dolled up and ready to go on a date with your boyfriend, you never imagined you’d end up cornered by two creeps in a deserted alley.

“Easy, girl,” one of the guys in front of you cackled, lips curling into an unsettling sneer. “We’re just trying to get to know you better!”

“Listen— My boyfriend is super scary, you know!” you barked, willing yourself not to shake. “Now you better not come any closer or else—!”

“Or else what?” the other creep mocked with a snort. You gripped your umbrella—now your makeshift weapon—tightly, pointing it at him as a threat.

“Or else my boyfriend will be here in any minute and he’ll kick your ass!”

It was a partly a lie you hoped sounded convincing, because how could Megumi suddenly show up and find you in this dingy alleyway... right after both of you had a petty disagreement in the middle of Shibuya's shopping district?

Oh lord, how you regretted raising your voice and running away from him earlier.

"You are late!" you scolded him heatedly as he yawned, showing up twenty minutes later than your agreed time. "Can't you at least text me beforehand? I'll match your time if you do!"

Megumi sighed, fixing you with a blank stare as he scratched his head. "My bad. I overslept. I rushed here so didn't think of it."

It was so easy for him to say, and you would've understood if it was the first time, but you had noticed this pattern over the past two weeks. Whenever you asked him out for dates, his face always soured, and he didn't bother to be on time. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was reluctantly agreeing.

And by this point, you thought you knew better and that was really it.

Finally, you blurted out the burning accusation: "You never realize it, but it shows, you know? You never seem happy when we go out together."

He exhaled in exasperation, green eyes darkening at you. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly that."

It seemed he had run out of patience. Standing your ground, you braced for his next words. But the glare he sent your way and the words he spat pierced your tender heart more than you thought—

"You're always nagging. Can't you stop being annoying just once? What a pain."

Perhaps he was right, you were annoying him all this time and dealing with you was a pain. You could imagine it if you were in his place, but you couldn't handle the very implication that you had done so, and you screamed at his face:

"So be it then! Fushiguro, you are the worst!"

—and ran off with tears in your eyes, deserting him altogether.

You knew you weren’t exactly a model of maturity, but in your defense, it stung deeply that he saw you as annoying and a pain. What girlfriend wouldn’t be hurt by that?

Anyhow, you loitered near the Shibuya station afterwards, and at first you heard some catcalls you didn't really pay mind to. But when those two guys started whistling and edging closer, it hit you—you were their target.

You quickened your pace, turning down several corners, only to find yourself trapped in a dead end. Just how much worse could your day get?

"Aha, the girl says she has a boyfriend!" Creep #1 snickered, turning to Creep #2 with a smirk, before pretending to scan the area. "But I don’t see him?"

"Miss, I swear we’re not up to any trouble," Creep #2 chimed in, his eyes gleaming with a predatory delight. "Won’t you be our friend? You’re too pretty to be alone—this is Shibuya, after all!" he said, eyeing your legs and whistled. "And ooh, have I told you that skirt suits you well?"

These guys were straight-up perverts!

"Get lost!" you yelled, your fingers trembling as you swung the umbrella at him when he tried to close the distance. "Can’t you just leave me alone?!"

You were at your wits' end, and it was clear this situation wasn’t going to improve with them still blocking your way. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and decided to do the only thing you could.

In hindsight, a stupid move—

You barreled towards the two of them with your umbrella—managing to push past them. For a moment, you thought you had a chance and ran as fast as you could—

"Ack!" —until you tripped and crashed on the ground.

You rose and immediately winced, looking down at the site where it hurt the most. Oh, you had scrapped your knees badly.

"Ahh, miss! Don't be too hasty~!" you heard the second guy's sing-song voice, and you really wanted to cry. Why did this have to happen to you?

"Don't come c-closer!" you stammered, backing away as they approached. Your whole body shook, desperately trying to think of ways to save yourself. "Or— I'll scream!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait just a minute! Why don't you just—"

You really thought you would scream, until suddenly the familiar scent of mint filled your sense and a strong arm pulled you from behind, and a broad back shielded your view from them—

"What do you need from her?" Megumi's voice boomed, his eyes glaring at the two men who had been harassing you. His breathing was ragged, as if he had run all the way here. "Fuck off."

At that moment, you couldn't help clutching his sleeve, hiding behind him further as you kept trembling. Megumi sensed it, and turned over to have a look over you—

You looked disheveled, spooked, and his eyes widened when he saw the blood trailing down both of your knees.

"Hey man, your girlfriend practically asked for it! Just look how she is dressed—"

Before you could process what was happening, Megumi had yanked the man by his collar and thrown a punch at him. You yelped and immediately got a hold of his arm to stop him further. "Megumi!"

The other guy quickly caught his friend, who spat out a string of curses, his lips bloodied from the punch.

"Fuck. Off." Megumi glowered at them, and they finally got the message, scurrying away in hurry. The moment they did, he faced you again and you finally let out a sob, throwing yourself into him. His body was warm, his heart pounding hard— yet it meant reassurance for you.

"Are you okay...?" his voice was noticeably softer as he wrapped his arms around you and returned the hug. "Did they touch you—?"

Megumi froze when he felt his chest dampen with your tears and heard your sniffles, your figure shaking like a leaf in his embrace. A wave of guilt washed over him, realizing how scared you must have been. Instinctively, he held you tighter.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he muttered, his breath warm against your ear. It was as if there was an invincible knife that twisted his chest when it dawned on him what you just got into. "I'm here now, okay? You're safe now."

If it weren’t for his harsh words earlier, you wouldn’t have run off. He kept shushing you, his own heart breaking at the turn of events.

And when you nodded against him, he knew he had to make it up to you somehow.

Later, Megumi tended to your minor injury while crouching down before you, as you sat on a bench near the convenience store where he had picked up the first aid kit.

Your eyes were swollen, your outfit was dirtied, but you ignored the curious looks from passersby. Still shaken, you kept your gaze fixed on your lap.

You recoiled when the disinfectant touched your torn skin, tears welling up again in your eyes. "Ow..."

"It'll hurt just a bit," Megumi looked up at you worriedly, seeing you struggling to hold back tears. He gently blew air on your wound. "It’ll be over soon."

Megumi noticed how you were uncharacteristically quiet. Between the two of you, you were the chatty one and he was the silent listener. But now, you were completely silent, and he knew it was definitely not a good sign.

And so he thought it was a good time to finally explain himself. With a sigh, he began. "I... was on back-to-back missions last week."

You glanced at him, both surprised and confused.

“I was so burnt out— that’s why I’ve been oversleeping lately. Sorry for not meeting you on time.” Megumi applied the ointment to your knees, and you stiffened from the sting. He blew air on them again to ease the discomfort.

"You never told me," you pointed out.

“Yeah, uh, sorry...” he winced. “It’s so... lame. I’ve been exhausted for a week straight whereas Itadori bounces back so easily. Stupid, I know.”

"You... didn't tell me because you don't want to look uncool?"

As soon as you worded it that way, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Megumi remained silent, looking down, and you knew that his silence was a definite yes.

Totally stupid. But exactly how Fushiguro Megumi was always wired. A part of you was exasperated, but also forgave him for it.

When he met your gaze again, he finally saw the light returning to your eyes. It was a relief to him, so he let out a small sigh and put on a strained smile.

"How did you find me anyway?" you asked quietly.

"You didn't pick up my calls. I was worried. And then I ran around until I heard your voice." His eyes narrowed into a frown. "Did they do anything to you?"

You shook your head, and Megumi let out the breath he had been holding, gripping your right hand in his. "I’m glad."

You brushed away the trace of tears on your cheeks as he finished applying band-aids to your knees, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers.

"Sorry for being annoying," you mumbled softly, not meeting his eyes, feeling yourself so small all of a sudden. "Will totally happen again though."

"You..." Unwittingly, he cracked a smile at your blatant remark. "Just... don’t run off again, dummy. Do it where I can see you."

He ruffled your hair gently, then intertwined your fingers with his. "And sorry... for getting mad at you too."

Your cheeks felt warm, so you looked away, puckering your lips together. "...I'm hurt. You have to make it up to me."

He hummed, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Let's go have that shaved ice you’ve been craving then."

“Huh? You remembered! But you don’t like them?”

“You like that kind of sugar dump, don’t you?”

Hand-in-hand, both of you traversed the Shibuya shopping district together. Your eyes were still puffy, but you were smiling and talking his ears off again just like you always did.

“I told those pricks my boyfriend will definitely kick their asses,” you giggled to yourself, swinging your joined hands in joy. “And you really did~”

“What are you talking about…?”

Sometimes you were beyond his comprehension. Sometimes you were also cute beyond comparison.

And Megumi thought... he liked you the best this way.