#im sorry we have nothing ti talk about any more

[bloodystray]

.

[sarcasticmirage]

I'm feeling my fma 03 obsession returning and just putting it out there that if you're a brotherhood prefer-er, who needs to tell 03 fans how much better it is:

don't

mainly please don't just say it follows the manga, I SWEAR that whoever was posting about it already knows that 03 doesn't and I'm also pretty sure that they don't care

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all. 

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound. 

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge. 

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em." 

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket. 

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man. 

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead. 

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?” 

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer. 

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand. 

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated. 

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous. 

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up. 

They’re sugar-free. 

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor. 

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?” 

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through. 

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?” 

You blink. 

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.” 

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard. 

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger. 

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor. 

You gape. The man grins. 

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical." 

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless. 

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps." 

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you. 

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?" 

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you." 

You shrink back. 

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes. 

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World." 

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?" 

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass. 

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room." 

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger. 

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact. 

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds. 

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind. 

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you. 

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch." 

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him. 

"I said I believed you." 

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying. 

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you. 

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs. 

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive." 

You pale at that. He notices. 

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done." 

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open. 

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?" 

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him. 

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?" 

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment." 

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse. 

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you? 

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing." 

The man leans in. 

"What's your name?" 

He smiles. 

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition. 

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him. 

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists. 

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!" 

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin. 

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway. 

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful. 

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you. 

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing." 

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care. 

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this. 

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided. 

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.” 

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?” 

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop. 

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off. 

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response. 

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.” 

"Miyashiro?” 

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before. 

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.” 

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?” 

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures. 

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together. 

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant. 

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy. 

Nice. Just nice. 

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his. 

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry. 

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about. 

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in. 

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking. 

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people. 

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it. 

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen. 

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling. 

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-" 

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off. 

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation. 

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much." 

"I could eat," he says.

You smile. 

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food. 

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite. 

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn." 

You laugh out of nerves. 

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself. 

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle. 

You're on your last bite when he speaks again. 

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like." 

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now. 

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say. 

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky. 

"I think I'd like that." 

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning. 

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on? 

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength." 

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses. 

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..." 

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you." 

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking. 

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs. 

You frown. "That's not very descriptive." 

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies." 

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.  

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting." 

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu." 

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?" 

"Did it work?" 

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see." 

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom. 

"You're blurry from far away." 

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place. 

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you." 

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are. 

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth. 

"What do you see, Gojo?" 

"Everything." He honestly replies. 

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again. 

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others. 

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you. 

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you. 

"What do you see, Satoru?" 

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how. 

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile. 

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants. 

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping. 

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long. 

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask. 

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter. 

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking. 

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?" 

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?" 

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined. 

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling. 

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas." 

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one." 

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask. 

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant." 

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?" 

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along." 

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here." 

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?" 

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours. 

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human." 

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him. 

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone. 

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat. 

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again. 

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy." 

You stare at him. 

"What?." 

He grins, but it's not his usual one. 

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention. 

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are." 

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes. 

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you." 

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then- 

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie." 

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed. 

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you." 

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you." 

You scoff. 

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit." 

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that. 

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking. 

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance. 

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall. 

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right. 

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway. 

Ijichi gives a tight grin. 

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-" 

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking. 

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know." 

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers. 

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't. 

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was- 

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.  

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him? 

What was going to happen to you? 

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back. 

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him. 

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river. 

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous? 

He calls your name, your real name, and you break. 

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face. 

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold. 

He's warm. 

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask. 

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband. 

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house. 

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb." 

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken. 

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would." 

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru. 

"I'm sorry," you say. 

He laughs. "For what?" 

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment. 

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones." 

His tone gets a bit playful. 

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you." 

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you. 

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again." 

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?" 

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face. 

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided. 

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says. 

You glance at him. He's watching the screen. 

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms." 

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you. 

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says. 

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you. 

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him. 

He gives a secret grin. 

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping. 

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up. 

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him. 

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all. 

It's just...strange. 

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf. 

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages. 

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at. 

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back. 

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back. 

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over." 

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you. 

"No," he says, "my caretakers." 

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph. 

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls." 

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh. 

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?" 

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions." 

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer." 

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades. 

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all." 

You stare at him. He catches you. 

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?" 

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person." 

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out. 

This again. You roll your eyes. 

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know." 

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice. 

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues. 

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit. 

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things. 

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight. 

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless. 

At first, you think Satoru's hurt. 

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching. 

Pretty, blue, laced panties. 

Your panties. 

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again. 

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp. 

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards. 

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move. 

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back. 

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty. 

Monstrous. 

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second. 

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking. 

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short. 

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him. 

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom. 

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back. 

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely. 

You wake up alone the next morning. 

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock. 

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken. 

A black dot stares back at you. 

A camera. 

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone. 

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there. 

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too. 

It's easy to leave. 

You stop anyway. One question. 

Where would you go? 

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed. 

You'd die if you went back home. 

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses. 

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns. 

At least, you know what Satoru wants. 

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions. 

Two things can be right at once. 

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know. 

Your hand falls away from the doorknob. 

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom. 

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes. 

Blank. Numb. Empty. 

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear. 

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then. 

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore. 

“What do you see, Satoru?” 

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath. 

“Nothing but you.” 

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

[riddleriddles]

ෆ delicate

ෆ matthew riddle x hufflepuff! shy! reader

ෆ summary: the one in which Matthew can’t leave such a beautiful girl crying alone in a dress like that.

ෆ warnings: English translated from google (please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes), alteration of the history of mattheo and tom (tom is not voldemort but an potions teacher like snape).

ෆ notes: i just love shy!reader so much, im sorry if all my one shots are all with shy or hufflepuff reader, IM JUST A GIRL

𖦹

Parties have never really been your favorite way to spend time, loud music and dancing until your feet hurt in the middle of many strangers, not really your tipe of thing.

But a prom was so different, the music was slow, and the dresses, the delicate makeup, even more the winter ball, with the decorations in light shades of blue and white, was a dream.

Especially when you had someone to spend the night, a date, but maybe for lack of popularity, you hadn’t gotten a pair for tonight, your circle of friends was extremely limited, but if you did not have a pair it was not for lack of desire.

Since the prom was announced, you dreamed of being invited by none other than Cedric Digory.

He was tall, kind, sweet, confident, and extremely outgoing, always surrounded by his friends, but you weren’t special for having the attention picked up by Digory, half the girls of your year also dreamed the same thing as you, on being asked to be his date on the romantic night of the winter dance, unfortunately, you and Cedric, although you’ve interacted a few times - just a few little conversations he pulled during class, or little smiles as you passed each other in the hallway - you were very different, he was extremely confident and liked the attention, you did not.

In the little conversations you shared with him, you believed that those glances and those smiles had a greater meaning, maybe you forgot that he was just polite, or you knew but liked to pretend not, because the feeling was good, of being seen, of someone enjoying holding a conversation, and as much as you didn’t talk so much, he liked your words spoken in a low tone of quiet, or you thought he liked it.

the weeks passed and nothing came, not an owl or a letter, not even a flower, so your hopes were lost, as much as you had heard through the corridors that Cedric Digory had no pair and was considering going alone to the winter ball.

…

With only a few minutes left until the beginning of the prom, you were lying on the bed, wet hair tied in a towel with a robe around your body, looking at the ceiling with your hands resting one on top of the other in the region of your chest.

the room smelled like shampoo and the fragrance of the strawberry liquid soap you shared in the bathroom with your roommates.

"Come on, you need to go!" Lizzie, your closest friend, and roommate says excited, you and she used to make plans for a long time about this dance together. "We've been talking about it for so long, just for you to give up because of Cedric?"

She talks to you while tiing her hair delicately in a built-in braid, her yellow dress contrasting with her brown eyes and blonde hair.

"Oh Liz, you don't understand..." you whine "I don't have a pair, you at least go with someone nice."

"If that's the problem, you know I can leave Oliver dancing alone while we dance together." she rolls her eyes playfully and says excitedly, she looks at you through the mirror, you turn your face so that yours looks to meet, you smile softly at her.

"Don't do that." you say and giggles lightly.

You turn your head up again and sigh.

"All right, I’ll go..." You give yourself defeated and hear a lively scream from Liz, sit on the bed with your legs crossed.

She finishes the braid in her hair and finally turns to you looking for approval.

"do i look good?" She asks making an exaggerated pose with her hands on her waist and a smile from ear to ear.

She had a long yellow dress with several details of embroidered white flowers, and her blonde hair was in a single built-in braid with some messy strands giving her a stripped air, a yellow heel on her feet.

You smile at her and answer with a giggle "You look beautiful Liz, I'm sure Oliver will fall in love with you once again!"

Her smile changes to a shy smile and she looks at herself in the mirror again.

"I'm going to ask one of the girls to do my makeup, I hope that when I get back you'll be very ready for us to go!" She says excited and takes her makeup case, it is white with kittens and pink tulips and fits in the palm of her hand.

You suppress a smile with your lips and nod your head agreeing.

As soon as she leaves the dorm you get out of bed and go to the shared vanity, you sit on the wooden chair looking at your reflection in the mirror.

So you did your best to feel beautiful enough to go to the ball, dried your hair, and made a small braid on each side, a white bow holding them together, a light makeup on your face with a little glitter marking your eyes, and some golden accessories.

You get up from the vanity and walk to the full-length mirror that was on the door of the big wardrobe you shared with Lizzie.

The dress was hanging right next to the mirror, she went to her heels it was a shade of pearly white and made all of silk, it was beautiful, and you have been dreaming of it for so long.

You take it by the hanger and gently dress it with you back to the mirror, after fixing your hair and accessories, you turn to the mirror again and the view enchants you, feeling so beautiful, the dress had fallen so well on your body and your makeup, along with the simple hairstyle that made you so delicate.

Soon you hear the door open and turn quickly.

Lizzie gasped with an admired smile on her face and approached you quickly.

"You look won-der-ful!" She holds your hand and makes you do a little spin, a slight blush of shyness arrives on your cheeks while you give a soft giggle.

She releases from your hand and goes to the chair where two purses are hanging, one in a yellow and white tone and the other all white with small details in golden, she takes your lip gloss on top of the vanity and puts it inside the white purse, along with a mascara and a pink lip moisturizer that she puts in the yellow one, Going to you, she extends the white and you take it and put it on your shoulder.

"Let's go... the girls told me that Oliver is already waiting for me downstairs!" She says excited, ready to leave the dorm.

…

The great hall was splendid, in a whole shade of dark blue, the false sky with small and bright stars, the music was lively but still calm, couples were dancing in the center and some other people and groups of friends on the decorated tables.

You entered right behind Oliver and Lizzie, enjoying the place.

You sat at a table together where you shared a small talk to pass the time, as far as you could no longer ignore the passionate looks that Olive sent to her best friend and decided to leave them alone for a few minutes.

"I'm going to get something to drink, I'll be right back..." you asked excuse me getting up from the table with a gentle smile on her lips, Liz reciprocated shyly before giving all her attention to the brunette next to her.

Following up to a large table that was full of appetizers and different types of drinks, you took a red plastic cup and filled it with strawberry punch, from afar you could see Lizzie and olive sharing laughter, so you decided it was better to stay there for a while.

you got distracted looking down at your fingers while playing with the golden rings there, so distracted that you didn’t hear or notice when a tall brown boy came up to your side.

"Hey! you here!" Cedric said excitedly coming to your side with a little tap on your shoulder.

your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden presence of the boy, you turned to him with a small glance at his hand on your shoulder, visibly shy.

your heart began to beat faster in your chest and suddenly your throat was dry and your head could not find words to answer the boy with such beautiful eyes.

"Cedric... hi" you were louder than usual on account of the music playing, a small smile on your lips.

"You look good." he says in a charming tone approaching you, he passes by your side as he approaches the table behind you.

your cheeks are flushed with the comment and you don't know how to answer so you just chuckle shyly and admire him as he looks at the table.

"Thank you." you wanted to say that he looked good too but the words don’t seem to want to leave your mouth.

He serves himself in a red plastic cup just like yours, you watch him as he takes a gray canteen out of his suit pocket and baptizes the drink in the cup, you look at him and he seems not to notice, you look away at the couples dancing in the center of the Great hall.

He leans against your side, an arm leaning on the table behind your back without touching you, you suppress your lips, nervous with his proximity, playing with your rings again you swear you can feel your heart almost jumping from your chest.

He lifts the canteen as if offering you some of the whiskey he kept in his suit.

"Do you drink?" he asks with a gentle smile as if asking a casual question.

you look around nervous to see if any teacher is looking at you, which fortunately is not.

"No, but thank you." you gently refuse with a shy smile, he nods and hides the canteen on his suit again.

Now it’s his turn to watch the couples dancing in the center of the prom, a huge jealousy hitting his chest as he sees Cho Chang dancing in the arms of another boy.

You don’t follow his gaze, still playing your rings, the silence starts to bother you when he suddenly catches your hand, you look at him surprised, kinda bothered by the sudden touch.

"Do you want to dance?" he asks with an almost nervous smile.

suddenly you were speechless again, he wanted to dance? with you?

you nodded looking a little bit more lively, a big smile popping up on your lips.

was playing a song you didn’t know as Cedric took you to the center of the Great Hall, his hand resting on your waist.

you danced in a funny sync, but for you, everything seemed perfect. At least until you realize that Cedric wasn’t even paying attention to you.

you exclaimed softly in pain as he stepped on a finger as you danced, stopping for a few seconds.

He suddenly takes his eyes off something he was staring at behind you and looks at you surprised, then gives a little look at your foot, realizing his mistake.

"Oh, sorry, really sorry, I swear I’m not that bad normally" he apologizes with a nervous expression.

You can only nod your head and agree with a fake smile realizing that he doesn’t even care to look at you while apologizing, you follow his gaze and find none other than Cho Chang dancing and laughing with some other Corvinal boy.

You look away before he notices, and look down at your feet, gathering the courage to give an excuse to leave, he seems to notice.

"hey... you all right?" he asks with a gentle little smile and pretending to be worried.

So you look up at him, and you realize that he wasn’t trying to hurt you, of course, it was a little rude to treat you as a second choice, but it wasn’t his fault if he didn’t have feelings for you.

You sigh quietly “im sorry, cedric, i gotta go”

You don’t wait for an answer and get rid of his arms without looking at him because you know if he asks looking in your eyes you would stay.

Passing the couples dancing together you run a firm step out of the Great Hall, hoping to be alone for a while.

The thought of coming to the prom alone was beginning to look pathetic in your head, you should have stayed in your dorm.

you pass through the corridor of the stairs and follow to the courtyard, a bubble of anguish forming in your throat, along with the burning in the tip of your nose, indicating the will to cry.

You always used to cry for silly things, as simple as they were, like the end of a romantic book, or a sad movie, sometimes happiness, sometimes anger.

Now you felt pathetic, for not having a pair and having been made second choice, a mixture of sadness and upset formed the tears in the corner of your eyes.

You leaned on the stone wall, your hands covering your eyes to prevent more tears from falling.

the sound of you back on the stone wall catches Matthew attention, he looks back and would not have noticed that you were crying if not for the hand in your eyes, you sobbed silently.

He lets the cigarette smoke out of his mouth still holding it between his lips if he mentally asks if he should ask you what was happening or should sneak out while you hadn’t noticed his presence.

He analyzes your whole body, from the white Maryjane on your feet to the jewelry you wore on your neck, before sighing softly and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, his night was so boring that he needed a distraction.

Matthew also did not have a prom date, but not for lack of choice, nor would he come to this dance considered ridiculous in his vision, refused one or two dates saying that he would not attend, unfortunately, Lorenzo, one of his best friends, convinced him to stay at least a few minutes before disappearing with his escort, Matthew tired of being alone decided to go out to smoke without being caught by some of the teachers, he planned to finish and climb back to his dorm.

His plans were ruined.

You feel the smell of cigarettes and the presence next to you and take your hand out of your eyes to look at Matthew next to you, your cheeks red by crying, and now the shame of being caught crying, matching with the tip of your nose also reddish and your eyes glowing with tears.

He looks at you and then realizes why your dress is white, was to match your angelic appearance, he notes mentally to thank Lorenzo later for forcing him to come.

"hi." he whispers with a neutral expression, not so serious but also not smiling.

"Hi?" you whisper, yet come out as a question.

You wipe the corner of your eyes, looking elsewhere than him, still ashamed of being caught crying over something so silly.

"Why aren’t you at the prom?" he asks as if you’re not crying, without asking your name as if you already know each other.

Uncertain of what to say, because you did not want to open up to a stranger, especially when the unknown was the son of the frightening professor of potions, Tom Riddle.

"I... found it boring." you whisper shyly, your hands playing with the heart pendant of your necklace.

"so boring that it made you want to cry? what a coincidence, me too, I just wiped my tears." he says with a serious tone but visibly joking.

You let out a giggle realizing that he took your lie, forgetting what had just happened.

"All right, it’s just a silly motive."

"Will you tell me you don’t have someone to dance with?" he asks with a giggle as if he’s joking.

"I haven’t." Your smile falls and you look at your own feet.

He tilts his head to look at your face, not believing that someone so beautiful and dressed so well is crying for not having someone to dance with.

"you’re lying."

"I’m not." you whisper uncertainly and he giggles out of disbelief.

After a few seconds in silence, he puts the cigarette in his mouth again, and from a puff, you watch as he releases the smoke between his lips and takes the cigarette out of his mouth again.

The cold began to bother you, your hands rose and your arms crossed above your chest in search of heat, he notices and comes a little closer, not so much not to scare you.

"Was it someone who made you cry?" he asks quietly, alternating between looking at you and the cigarette on his fingers.

"yes."

"your boyfriend?"

"No." you reply, feeling foolish again, for crying over a boy who isn’t even your boyfriend. "It’s silly."

He stares at you as he leans his head against a stone wall, your eyes still sparkling from tears as you look at your shoe, he notes that the tears lightly blurred your mascara.

He lifts his fingers to the tip of your eyes and passes his thumb over the stain carefully, you look at him uncertain with the proximity, your cheeks turning pink again, and he smiles noticing you blushing with the touch.

"was stained" he clarifies

"with mascara?" he nods agreeing, the cold starting to bother him too.

"Don’t you want to come in? It’s getting cold in here, and you’re out of coat." He whispers, putting his cigarette out on the wall behind him, before throwing it on the floor, wet from the rain earlier.

"I think I’ll go back to my dorm." you whisper letting your hands slip to the side of your body.

"Oh no you can’t leave," he says quickly, thinking of some reason to make you stay, not knowing that you didn’t need much because you hadn’t yet learned to say no, as much as it was someone unknown.

"I can’t?" you ask confused

"No... because... I wanted you to dance with me." he says at once without thinking, dancing? he didn’t dance, what had gone through his head?

His voice comes out neutral but he curses himself mentally, he did not want you to leave but he also did not want to dance.

"Do you want to dance with me?" you blush and suppress a smirk, he sighs without knowing how to answer.

"Yes." No, he doesn’t.

you smile with the words that come out of his lips.

Ok, maybe he wants, just a little.

"Okay." you smile shyly, looking at him slightly flushed, he looks between your glossy lips and your eyes shining.

He accompanies you to the Great hall again, making silly comments to keep you distracted, you thank him mentally.

"I don’t have a pair either, nor is it that bad right?" he says as you arrive.

"not much" you respond softly

a song ends when you arrive, and one of your favorite songs starts playing.

You take a deep breath and your smile increases, you start to think that the universe was trying to make you sad just to make you happy again.

Matthew has his hand on your waist while guiding you to the center of the Great Hall, which did not have as many couples as before, Fade Into You played in the background while the lights changed to a dark blue tone.

Your chests were glued and you were smaller than him, he can smell the floral smell of your shampoo, and then he takes a deep breath discreetly to feel it better.

You look up at him shyly, not knowing what to say to end the silence.

I wanna hold the hand Inside you

you whisper something quietly to him

I wanna take the breath thats true

"Sorry, I didn’t catch that" he whispers so just you can hear and bends down a little to hear you better, your bodies still dancing in sync truly perfect.

I look to you and i see nothing

you stand on tiptoe, your hand on his shoulder as you say in his ear "Thank you" It is still low but he could hear why you said it in his ear this time.

i look to you to see the truth

He had no idea what you were thanking him for, and neither did you.

You live your life, you go in shadows

"oh no, I should thank you." He whispers back to you, he talks louder, and he doesn’t have to say it in your ear, but he does it anyway.

You’ll come apart and you'll go blind

you shiver with his hoarse voice in your ear as he smiles at your reaction, realizing that maybe he likes to see you blush, even if the blue light is in the way.

Some kind of night into your darkness

he leaves a kiss on your neck next to your ear before he looks up again, his action making your heart race, you had never received this much attention from some boy.

Colors your eyes with what is not there

you smile shyly and he reciprocates before looking up around, you lower your head, and lean on his shoulder, while your bodies dance slowly, his hand that was previously intertwined with yours loose and goes down to your waist, his hand that was once intertwined with yours loose and descends to your waist, his arms hold you there, on his chest, your own hands follow his movements and climb to his neck, the silence began to get comfortable.

Fade into you

Stranger, you never knew

Fade into you

[gangrel-pride]

im already fully committed and subscribed to the inevitable Gomezification of Wednesday Addams so please give me your pitch dec of how Enid is Morticia because I fully agree

sorry it took me a bit i had to try and organize my thoughts and im not very good at that

admittedly I’d like to have more Morticia to compare Enid to but we only had 8 episodes so whatcanyado

under the cut so as not to annoy other people

-there’s The Big One: both Wednesday and Gomez would be dead were it not for Enid and Morticia. Garrett would have killed Gomez had Morticia not ran him through and Tyler would have gutted Wednesday where she stood had Enid not drop-kicked his ass

-then there's the fact they've both committed violence to protect the ones they love and 100% do not regret any of it— despite Enid being portrayed as extremely squeamish

-they’re both cunning as hell and they know how to "play their part" to their advantage. Enid can say what would Wednesday do as much as she wants, but at the end of the day the shit she pulled during the Poe Cup was 100% Enid—there’s also, you know,

the way Enid managed to pull one over on Wednesday? she played the part of the "airhead roommate" (yeah you can't convince me that "ew, what died?" when she walked into a crypt wasn't calculated), so Wens would underestimate her. And while we haven’t seen enough of Morticia to judge she always gives off the vibe that she not only knows more than she lets on, she will 100% use it (honestly a lot of Tish's characterization has the benefit of other iterations of her you can use to fill in some blanks). She at the very least seemed to have a contingency plan for every possible thing Wednesday could have tried to get away from Nevermore

-they’re both actually really good at reading people, it’s tied to the above point

-Enid's well-liked enough to not only have friends in multiple different cliques but she’s also on good terms with enough people to be privy to all kinds of gossip, human or supernatural— and judging from what little Weems said, Morticia seemed to be popular way back when too. Though idk if Enid is the school darling to the extent Morticia seems to have been cause the closest we get to the whole school interacting with Enid is, well,

-my absolute favorite parallel tho is how Enid's got Wednesday wrapped around her little finger just like Morticia’s got Gomez. Enid is the only one who can get Wednesday to do anything, from apologizing to Thing to putting her murder board somewhere else—she didn’t even have to ask, it made her uncomfortable and Wednesday just, like, moved it—to wrangle genuine compliments out of her. as a bonus Wednesday goes full My Girl Is Mad At Me I Hope I Die after their fight, which is very Gomez of her

-Enid can't stand staying away from Wednesday. In fact, she can stand it so little she doesn't even wait for Weds to apologize, she just comes back

girl you didn't even give an explanation for why you work, you just got tired of waiting for Wednesday to swallow her fuckin pride and came back all on your own she gave you NOTHING!

And while you could argue this is some Gomez-ass behavior, i think Morticia and Gomez are just as bad as each other on this

-this right here is some Morticia-ass behavior she's so proud:

-the height difference, it's uncanny:

in conclusion, whether intentional or not Enid is more Morticia than Wednesday is and Wens should be actually worried about being too much like her father thank you for coming to my TED Talk

[lostgracestories]

submissive Morgott? Like?? He’s everything ???

The way he would gasp at any sensitive touch, having his horns grasped, unable to restrain his whimpering and purring, even with teeth clenched...

Smth in my brain just clicked and I can’t stop thinking about this old man

OKAY IM FINALLY GETTING TO THESE IN MY INBOX AND YOU GUYS DO NOT DISAPPOINT (been busy with college </3 sorry for delays) ANYWAYS ENJOY THIS MINIFIC (I used mimic veil for it cause Y E S) wc: 879 tw: itty bitty bit of suggestiveness/intimacy

Touch

You were bored, very bored. Your husband had been tending to some nobles under his guise with mimic veil. You knew that this was important for him but you hadn't thoroughly spent time with your own husband in the last 2 weeks. You needed him. Even if it meant just being near him.

As you wandered into the grand hall where your husband was speaking with his guests, he briefly turned and nodded to you mid-sentence before acting as if you were just passing through. You knew he was unsure about affection in front of others, even under his guise with mimic veil. Yet, the act of dismissal felt like a stab to the chest.

Oh you'd show him.

The moment you found a pause in their conversation you came close to Morgott, snaking your arms around his right arm and smiling up at him. He had to bite his tongue just to restrain his voice as a shaky sigh left him.

"Beloved, you were not planning to introduce me to your guests?"

Morgott finally met your eyes and a pang of guilt twisted in his gut like a dull blade. You looked so dejected and he silently cursed himself for being the cause of your upset.

"Apologies, my queen... I did tell thee I wouldst be quite busy with mine work today... 'Tis not a meeting of pleasantries"

The eyes you gave him should have been banned from existence. he wanted nothing more than to steal you away, beg for more of your touch, remove the damn veil for the one person who found him beautiful... He had to rip his mind out of the spiral it was entering when he imagined you running your fingers along his tail and shuddered.

You stuck your lower lip out into a pout and turned toward the two nobles he had been speaking with. You didn't know what they were or would talk about but you knew you wanted to be by your husband's side and not wait to just sleep next to him that night.

"Gentlemen, you would not mind if I remained in your company? See, my husband is quite stubborn-"

You giggled as Morgott quickly shushed you, earning a hearty chuckle from the older man out of the two guests. The man nodded, fidgeting with the band on his ring finger.

"We do not mind, nothing of our conversation is of much import to thyself." The man offered a knowing look to you and nodded to your husband as if beckoning him to continue speaking. You watched as Morgott continued conversing after glancing at you briefly. You looked absolutely lovestruck as if you'd never been in so deep before, and it was true.

As you watched your husband speak, you reveled at the way he shuddered whenever your hand circled his back or your fingers traced the skin of his arm. He nearly drew blood from his lip when you traced circles over his lower back and tail bone with your finger.

The nobles could not have left a moment sooner. The instant they were out of sight, Morgott let out a pitiful whine at your tantalizing touch, his brow furrowing before he turned and grabbed your wrists to keep your hands off of him.

"Thou art playing a dangerous game, my queen"

You offered him a mischievous grin and big doe eyes. The way he shifted his gaze briefly away from you made you want to grab him and shove your lips into his... But you restrained yourself from doing so. You'd show him...

"Revenge for ignoring me"

you hummed the words and suddenly reached up and wrapped your fingers around the veil over the crown of his skull. He made no move to stop you as you removed his guise and tossed mimic veil into a chair sitting under a painting in the hall. The moment his horns were visible you reached to stroke the one above his brow and smirked as he whimpered and gasped under your gentle touch, his tail lashing and swishing behind him as his eyes fluttered.

"I- Was not- hff... I was not ignoring thee-"

A sound bordering a moan escaped his lips when your fingers found the base of his horn and his voice became a pitiful whine.

"I was simply- b-busy"

He stuttered and could not help but give into the heavy feeling in his eyes, shutting them as he leaned into your touch like a dog getting pet.

"You didn't make time for me!"

You huffed and pulled your hand away from him... gods you were going to drive him mad... He practically allowed a beg to slip past his lips and beckon you to touch him again but his thoughts were quickly silenced as you grabbed him by the cloak and pressed your gentle lips into his, smiling. He returned the tender kiss, breathing ragged as he brushed his hand through your hair and held it there until you pulled away just barely to speak. His eye studied yours with admiration.

"Gods you're so stubborn..."

You silenced him with a quick kiss before he could protest then continued speaking, brushing a wiry strand of silver hair out of his face and smiling.

"But you're my stubborn king..."

[aziraphales-library]

heyyy - first off im so sorry if my request fits into one of your general tags 😭 but um, could y'all rec any a/c fics (ace please) where there's miscommunication about feelings and/or a situation on both of their parts (i think there's a tag requited unrequited love that fits) and with a happy ending? preferably 4k plus but whatever you can find is cool - tysmm <33

You can browse our #asexual, #misunderstandings, and #not actually unrequited love tags for fics to enjoy. Here are more...

Communication Skills by ineffablefool (G)

It's become apparent to Aziraphale that there has been some fundamental miscommunication between himself and Crowley as to the nature of their relationship. Unfortunately, Crowley keeps running away every time he tries to set the record straight.

A Rubber Duck by CassandraLie (G)

There is a gift from Crowley on the table. A little box tied with a bow. Aziraphale is absolutely certain what's inside. (He is wrong.)

Falling for the Illusion by elf_on_the_shelf (G)

After a certain Doomsday That Wasn’t, a trial, and a dinner at the Ritz, both Crowley and Aziraphale plan on making their feelings known but severe miscommunications ensue that make them both doubt themselves and the bond they seem to share. Enter Anathema on her quest to make sense of angelic and demonic auras. Maybe that’s the nudge they needed in the first place to get them properly talking.

the taste of dried-up hopes by rattatatosk (T)

He'd thought Aziraphale would understand. They've known each other so long, spent so much time speaking this language of things implied and left unsaid, and the angel is usually so good at reading between the lines. Surely he would hear what Crowley meant now, when it mattered the most. Instead, the angel had thrown it all back in his face. (Crowley is trying to declare his feelings as loudly as he dares. Aziraphale gets the wrong message entirely. They figure things out eventually.)

The Bookshop by st_jimmy_987 (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley, while closer than any other living being in any plane of existence, seem to have two very different ideas of what they mean to each other.

Definitions of Love by organizechaos (T)

Aziraphale thinks that all the abuse and trauma he endured in heaven is ‘love’. After being freed after the apocalypse, the angel is beyond happy. He wants nothing more than to spend eternity with Crowley but the demon is ready to put a name to their feelings. They both know that they care for each other deeply and when Crowley finally has the courage to put it in words (‘I love you’), it sends Aziraphale spiraling into believing Crowley will start treating him like heaven did. "We- we don't have to pretend anymore.” Crowley stuttered out, golden eyes looking frantically about the angel. His sunglasses were clutched tightly in the palm of his hand, “The apocalypse is over, it has been for years. Can't we- can't we say it now?" his voice wavered only slightly. "I don't love you, Crowley." Aziraphale emphasized each word to better help the demon understand. He had never truly loved something in all his years of existence, he didn’t think he was capable. To love another being — especially Crowley... "I could never love you."

- Mod D

[cato616]

NEGOTIATING OVER US (part two)

roman roy x fem reader

• note! : so i know it isn't A LOT of people who has seen this but, i actually thought no one would've come across of my blog soooo i made a part two!

• also: don't forget english isn't my first language lol

summary: roman roy has now taken you to his office, of course it's still about buying your shop, but why all of the sudden decided to take you there?

warnings: nothing,, just roman being roman :) and maybe some heat ;)

You finally arrived at the grand building. If the Range Rover wasn't fancy enough for only a 10 minutes ride (actually even less), you could imagine how uneasy you felt while entering such a place like Waystar Royco; you felt pretty unfitting right there, and you think, thank god i remembered to take the fucking apron off.

You entered the big doors slowly, like if it was a new world for you, having your arms crossed against your chest, basically thinking, i know im unwelcomed here and im practically super uncomfortable with all this so im gonna make myself look intimidating. well you think that but your face is having a panic attack. You stopped moving to look around the place, so many people, i mean, you were an insecure introverted gal surrounded by so many people above your level, and that got over your head, shit... i showered today, right? without anyone notice you sniffled your hair to see if you were correct. "great! so let's keep moving" said roman from behind making you jump a bit. shit. you were hoping he didn't see you sniffing your hair like that. "yup, coming- going i- sorry... im following you" you make yourself cringe, felt caught in the moment and got tongue tied.

You step in the elevators with roman and some really jacked security guy, now that guy seems intimidating. Roman couldn't hold it and started laughing at the awkwardness of it all. You can't help but making a weird uncomfortable smirk at the situation. "you realize we don't bite here right?" said roman. im pretty sure you do, you think for yourself. "a lot of... floors" you said quietly, really impatient to get to his office. "now, we're here" roman said a few seconds later being a little cocky about it.

So you enter the floor and roman suddenly put himself in front of you stopping you from moving forward. "first I'd like for you to meet someone" and then you start moving to his direction; he opens a big glass door and let you come in. You first took a glance over the office turning to the right; then you hear a voice from the back that makes you jump again. "that's some first level jeans you got there" you turned and it was fucking logan roy sitting at his desk, that made you jump a little bit as well. "yeah well im not usually dressed for this kind of occasions, see, i only ran a café" you awkwardly laugh at yourself feeling pretty threatened by his presence. "let's talk about that" he seemed serious the whole time so your smile disappeared trying to be more in the moment, you sit down, you frown and tense your lips, and try to make eye contact, but it feels like he's looking at your soul. "your dear lovely, um... coffee shop, it's uuh cute" he smiles at you, you don't say anything because you know he's going to keep talking. "it is also a nice location you got yourself"... he pauses, damn he likes suspense you think. "right next to fucking corporate buildings... that must get a bit annoying doesn't it? so big... over your little humble shop" you silently nod agreeing, you can't fight that logic. And then he tries to get to the crucial part of the conversation. "You could get any part of the city, nice view, where a building doesn't cover all of the sunshine, you can make it bigger even..." You don't say anything, you just keep staring at him, maybe even considering what he's saying, but you don't want to. "how about... 40 mil..." he said. You have your eyes wide open, stayed completely silent. "dad, come on" roman said to logan. "fine, fine, 45 mil then".

You now have roman roy and the emperor of his father staring at you waiting for you answer, at the same time you're feeling like you're sweating under your blouse; The only thing you can think of is not only the fact that the café means a lot to you, but also, why your coffee shop? why do they want that spot or is there something else i don't know about? You haven't said anything yet, you're terrified of making a sound. "you know what? how about you get yourself a nice cup of coffee while you think about it huh?" Logan said trying to be nice?. "roman go with her somewhere around here, in the building" Logan asked roman. "great, im now the service dog of the fucking definition of anxiety here" while he points at you with the palm of his hand. I'll try not to get offended... but maybe you're not that wrong.

Roman decides to take you to his private office and have one of his assistants to bring you two some coffee. He offers you to take a seat in front of him at his desk, where he then sits. The assistant comes back with two coffees on each hand and leaves them on the desk. You rapidly take a sip and of course you drip a bit of coffee, somehow that usually happens to you; you usually get to be a bit awkward around people and somewhat clumsy, nothing wrong with it obviously but, roman can seem to take advantage of that. "fuck, don't you know how to drink coffee? you're dripping like a fucking baby" you ignore his teasing while trying to wipe the coffee out of your blouse but there's no fucking napkins around you. "here... i- i can help" roman said very decently; he stood up, and obviously takes out one of those napkins stored inside of those fancy suits; he took it out, and while you were still sitting on the chair, he stood in front of you, slowly lowering his torso, then gently starts to clean your blouse, very focused on his duty.

You realize how close your faces where to each other; you could feel his warm breath hitting your chest. He still didn't take his eyes off his mission, taking those stains off your shirt; he was frowning the whole time. You didn't want to move, it was taking a bit long, but there was something inside of you that wanted this to last forever; you start staring at him, analysing his whole face, and you could feel your breathing getting stronger. There was a moment where your heart stopped, when suddenly his eyes meets yours and for a moment there's nothing but silence between you two. You felt so much tension that made you intensly grip onto your chair. He suddenly breaks the tension and warmly says, "well, it's off" while he goes back to his chair. Before sitting down he says "well not that much actually, but it looks fine".

After that situation you can feel yourself relaxing and your heart pounding no more. So that's when you start going on about it, thinking, roman roy had let down his guard and had a little moment with each other, but none of you said anything about it, like it was nothing; however, you thought it was, fun. You liked the adrenaline of it, with him.

"so i think we can ta-" you interrupted him when you realize it was getting late, knowing you were supposed to close your café because you promised your co-worker Liza she could leave early today. "oh- shit shit sorry" he looked stunned by your sudden cut off as you look over your watch while quickly getting up from your seat. "actually i think I should come over another time, i ought to go back to my shop- tomorrow! I'll come back tomorrow, Sunday" you tell him.

You rapidly leave the room and not looking back since you were in a hurry. You find yourself unconsciously smiling while you walk to the elevator; you're looking forward for this kind of moment to happen again... and so does roman probably.

continue ✧⁠*⁠。

[ravenkinnie]

i love love love the way you write jinx and the way you talk about her and her relationships!!! not to be annoying bc a lot of ppl in the fandom are like 16/17 but the general interpretation of jinx as little more than a victim of her circumstances and silco’s manipulation who should make up with her sister, be caitvi’s slightly annoying third wheel and ekko’s (or lux? lmao nothing against either ship but yk) quirked up gf is soooo boring (like god forbid a girl contains multitudes and is both a meow meow and an absolute cunt) and your take on her is such a breath of fresh air! not sure if you talked about this in a post already but what are your hopes in general for the new season and ofc for jinx in particular?

❤️❤️❤️ that's my pookie and even tho I'm hoeing across runeterra she will always be the one

no fr fr and listen I do feel like I'm fighting in a kindergarten when I hate because I realise it's cause everyone I'm beefing with is 18 and just likes the same YA archetypes as everyone else at that age but if 10k bitches can post it on ao3 I can hate on it. especially because it erases a supremely well done character that they made out of a lol champion I wouldn't even think twice about when she first released like that's a talent and that's work

and also if people want to complain about female characters in media it feels disingenuous to then remove agency from complicated female characters we do have to make them one dimensional - like one thing you cannot say about jinx is that she's flat - in personality I mean cause well. she is an active dynamic character with insane narrative potential and a lot of layers and being both a victim and a victimiser is an important part of that

my main hopes for season 2 are honestly

*I hope its consistent internally with its own ideology </3 I think s1 at the end starts unraveling a lil because it seems to despair for this both sides ass take but it just wouldn't make any sense with league lore or the show itself. here I mostly fear for ekko gkbknj

*everybody should become a somewhat worse person, like vi provably will because she will become an enforcer, caitlyn seems to also be heading for some corruption arc, obv viktor is there, so I think this will be fulfilled teehee

*I want jinx to have her own arc and I mean an arc where she develops her own goal and motivations outside other characters too and maybe this goal will be to love evil till the day she dies, ill take it!! I just think seeing jinx grow outside that child/flighty troublemaker into a full on villain/terrorist will be fantastic and will also give her actual league lore another layer that hopefullyyyy they can continue to build on (and they will never stop banking on jinx like that's basically leagues mascot)

*mel survives </3 like it would be way too much of a loss of a great character to give her so little storyline of her own, she needs to be in s2

*overall, sorry to be a freak but I'm a tragedy lover and enjoyer and I know they are tied to champion lore somewhat now but I still hope it ends sad or bittersweet for everyone. and when you say tragedy people often think of character death but that's probably the least tragic ending you can give a bitch, the true hollowness in losing everything you once were and could have been is what im talking about!!

*I did say this before but I hope jinx kills imagine dragons in arcane universe. first of all they are touring in israel so they deserve that but also it would be really funny to see them on her list of victims like just whole ass imagine dragons under silco or sth

[haunted-xander]

She was hungry- no, scratch that, she was starving. And tired. She felt about ready to collapse any moment now. Sadly, it's not as easy to find safe spaces for rest or edible foods as it is in video games. At least those games have taught her a few tips for survival.

The sound of screaming and crying nearby snap her out of her thoughts, alerting her to danger. The sound seems to be coming from the abandoned grocery store up ahead. I guess someone was looking for food and got in trouble... Not wasting any more time, she quickly dashed towards the grocery store to see what's going on.

Standing in front of the pried open doors, she heard a vaugely familiar voice cry out. "I-I-I'm sorry! I d-didn't mean t-to get in the way! I-I'll leave and I promise n-not to tell anyone, s-so please let me go!" Gruff, unstable laughter burst at the poor victims plead for mercy. "AHAHAHA you really think we're just gonna let a delectible little coward like you go? I don't give a shit about you tellin' anybody about us, it's not like I can't handle some weak-ass bastards." The scraping of metal pipes dragging across the floor was almost enough to make her cover her ears, but the sound of a body scurrying backwards and hitting the wall kept her alert.

"W-what do you want from me then?! I don't have anything to give you, no money, no food, no nothing! J-just let *sob* m-me go alre-ready" The victim broke out into loud sobs, no longer able to hold back the tears. "What, you cryin' already? Man, what a total wuss! If this is all it takes to get 'im crying his eyes out, then he won't even last a minute of what I've got planned!" One of the attackers cracked his knuckles, preparing to grab and restrain the victim.

Having had enough of this harrassment, Chiaki grabbed the pipe holding the doors open and rushed inside the store, quickly hitting the nearest attacker over the head and knocked him unconscious. The two other attackers turned to her, but before they could ready themselves to strike, she kicked one of their legs in and wacked the pipe into the others abdomen. She then hit them over their heads as well to make sure they didn't get up.

The victim -who she could now identify as Ryota Mitarai- looked up at her with a shocked yet hopeful expression. "N-Na-Nanami-san...?" A small smile graced her face, but quickly switched back to a determined look. "...Wait a moment. We shouldn't start talking until these guys are properly taken care of." Chiaki gestured to the unconscious attackers, hoping Ryota would understand what she meant. When he gave a nod in reply, she glanced around the store for... "...Hey hey, Mitarai-kun. ...You don't have any rope or anything on you, do you?" Surprised for a moment, he thought for a second, "A-ah, um, n-no I don't have any on me... B-but! I-I saw some down the aisle on the... l-left, I think." Nodding her thanks, Chiaki went down the mentioned aisle and quickly located the ropes. Taking a few with her, she hurried back to the entrance and tied up the attackers.

"...Yep, that should do. Now they can't cause more trouble even if they wake up." She turned back to Ryota, who she noticed was still shaking despite being much calmer than earlier. "...So, Mitarai-kun. It's been a while, hasn't it? It's good to see you again. ...Even if the circumstances could be better."

"Y-yeah... It's good to see you too... Nanami-san." Awkward silence filled the room, as neither knew what to say to the other. If this where a visual novel, my dialouge options might be something like... [ Comfort: Hey, it'll be okay. I'll protect you! ] Or... [ Casual: What a way to start a class reunion, right? ] Or maybe... [ Serious: We should go gather some food. It's gonna be tough out there, but at least we've got each other now, right? ] ...If only I knew Mitarai-kun better...

The growling of her stomach snapped her out of her thoughts. "...Well, I guess we should get some food first, huh?" Mitarai finally stood up from the wall and approached her. "Y-yeah, I guess we should." Ryota Mitarai has joined your party!

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter X: It’s All Hate And Money

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | chapter ix

summary: an idea is proposed by your label that you’re not sure you want to take part in, especially given the circumstances.

tags: hurt/no comfort but barely, angst, fake dating, slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak, these two are so stupid sometimes it hurts

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long and it’s still not very long, but it DID inspire me to keep going! also yeah, ofc i brought the angst back. bc that was the whole plot. just stupid ppl that cannot communicate right now bc they r afraid!!! also if any of my links are broken pls let me know, im trying to fix them but they decide to work half the time?? Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

——

July 1986

The breeze is refreshing, despite it blowing your hair into your face. Eddie sits next to you, hands behind his head as he lay in the sun. He’s showing off his tattoos, including the one he’d gotten from you last month, your initials in your handwriting scratched neatly above his hip. In front of you, Robin and Steve splash each other in the lake, both of them shrieking and laughing as the cool water hits their faces. Your heart is full, spending the weekend at Steve’s parents’ unused lake house with your closest friends. Nancy and Jonathan arrive tomorrow, and the five of you have plans to roast marshmallows and sing songs like in all those cheesy horror movies. You could do this every day for the rest of your life, and be perfectly happy. You know Eddie doesn’t feel that way, he gets restless in places so still, and you have this deep, irrational fear that his urge to keep moving will end up being your downfall. But right now, that’s a non-problem. You return to your book, The Harlequin’s Son, as Eddie cranks the boombox up another few notches to blast Beach Boys Surfin USA.

—

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

“Eddie! Is Sweetheart about Y/n?” “Was Pretty Boy written about you?” “How long have you and Y/n been together?” “Eddie, where’s Y/n?” The questions are hurled at him by fans and journalists alike as he enters the venue, cameras flashing in his face as Steve tries to shield him.

“We have no comment at this time, thank you! Bye!” Steve shoos the mob as well as he can manage, holding his hand out in front of photographers. Eddie keeps his head down, saying nothing as the door swings open for him and his band.

“Hey, they’ll let it go, it’s just fresh right now.” Steve reassured him, a comforting hand landing on his shoulder.

“It’s not them I’m worried about.” He looks around, every backstage of every venue looks the same to him, but you’re in the wings, lugging your guitar and amp to the stage as crew members set up pedal boards and wires. You look up then, and offer Eddie the smallest of smiles that he returns with a shy wave.

“I’m sure Y/n is fine, too.”

“You haven’t talked to them?”

“I’ve been busy with your temperamental ass!” Steve jokes, nudging him. “Besides, they’re a lot stronger than you think.”

“Hey. I know that. You think I don’t know that? We were together for like, four years. That isn’t my point.” It’s his turn to be defensive. He’s never doubted your strength, it’s your temper he’s concerned with. You’re not one to shy away from chewing someone out for a wrong assumption.

He looks from Steve back to you, watching as you chat with a crew member about something. You’re in plain jeans and a tight black t-shirt, your hair tied on top of your head haphazardly.

He feels a second nudge. “Stare more, would ya?” Robin’s appeared on Eddie’s other side.

“Who’s staring? I’m not staring.”

“And I’m not a lesbian. Try to blink, you’ll look less obvious.” Her smirk makes his eye twitch. “Or, y’know. You could just go say hi. Like friends do.”

“Seriously? You’re giving me shit about this too?” Eddie groans, craning his neck to the ceiling in irritation.

“Of course I am! If you guys are gonna do this dance the whole time we’re touring, I'm gonna get my jokes in!” This causes Steve to snicker.

“Listen, I’m only gonna say this once. Y/n and I are adults. You two are being so immature about this. There is absolutely nothing else between us, okay? Nothing.” Steve and Robin exchange a look, and begin to giggle again. “Cut it out!” Eddie whines, then startles when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns around to find you, sparkly eyed with a tight smile on your lips.

“We need to talk.”

—

Your POV

You don’t mention what you’d heard from Eddie’s lips, but you feel your heart sting a little. Nothing else between us? Bullshit. But now isn’t the time to call him out on it.

“What’s up?” Eddie leans against the doorframe of the dressing room, arms crossed casually.

“I just got a call from my label. They, uh, saw the magazine article.” You keep your voice low, not wanting to alert your gaggle of friends hanging out inside the dressing room. “They want us to play into it.”

“Play into it?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow teasingly. You’re sure he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he wants to hear you say it.

You groan. “They want us to be seen together more, out in public. Hold hands and shit.”

“They want us to date for publicity?”

You shrug. “Pretty much.”

“Do you want that?” He sounds sincere, even concerned.

“I don’t know if I have that choice.”

Eddie straightens his posture. “You always have a choice. It’s your life, regardless of what your label wants you to do.”

You sigh. He means well, you know that, but it would be so much more added stress to fight with executives while on tour. “Well, what do you think?”

“You know I’m always down to play tricks on the public,” he laughs, “and if you don’t mind being around me all the time, I’ll definitely do it.” You can’t get a read on him. If he doesn’t have feelings for you, why would he want to pretend?

“Okay. Then let’s play some tricks, yeah?” You offer your hand, and he stares. “You’re supposed to shake it.”

He blinks his stare away, and grasps your right hand in his. “Let’s do it.” He nods, and you can’t help but smile.

—

Your anxiety is skyrocketing tonight. With the added weight of this dating scheme, you barely have the mental capacity to make it through soundcheck.

“Are you okay?” Robin approaches you when you fumble the chords to Pretty Boy again, wincing as you sing the lyrics you’d written so many years ago.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Steve.” You’re whispering, even though you really don’t care if your bandmates find out. But Steve will try to protect you, probably going as far as making a scene in front of the label execs if he deemed necessary, and that was way too much to deal with right now.

“Consider my lips locked.” Robin makes a point of zipping her lips, locking them, and tossing the imaginary key behind her shoulder. You fill her in on your plan, not mentioning your nerves or feelings the entire time.

“And you think this is a good idea?” She asks when you’ve finished your rant. She’s not saying it to bite, she genuinely seems worried for you.

You shrug. “Probably not, but DDA is still new, we could get kicked off the label if we object to them this early. And they talked to CC’s agent already, so we pretty much have to do it.”

“But, what if you get the feelies again? Or worse, what if you don’t get the feelies, and now you’re lying to the world and to yourself?”

“First of all, feelies, Robin? Are we twelve? And secondly, I know. I'm screwed either way. Eddie already said he didn’t have feelings for me, so it’s not like-“

Robin interrupts you, waving her hand frantically. “When did he say that?”

“I overheard him talking to you and Steve earlier. ‘There is nothing else between us. Nothing.’.” You mimic Eddie’s gruff voice as you quote him, warning a chuckle from your bassist.

“You know that’s like, total bullshit, right?”

“No, I don’t! I can’t figure him out anymore, and frankly I don’t see why I have to.”

Robin pinches between her eyes like a disappointed mother. “You don’t. But you should figure your own shit out. Might be healing.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. This could totally be my undoing, I am very aware. But this could also be the push I need to make a decision. Either I’m over him, or I’m not.”

Robin pats your shoulder lovingly. “Okay, babes. Whatever you want. But maybe stop thinking about it until after we rock the shit out of this place, okay?”

You nod, finding the first chord again, and playing it perfectly. “Right. Let’s do this shit.”

—

Eddie’s POV

He taps his foot along anxiously with the house music, currently Blind Melon’s Tones of Home. His pen bounces up and down frantically in his hand, tapping against his frayed leather bound journal. A melody has been stuck in his head all day, but he can’t bring the words to match it. He’s about to throw in the towel when he feels another presence in the room.

He glances up, and his eyes meet with yours in the mirror. He whips his head around, startled by your stealth. “Hey, sw- hey, you.” He chuckles, feeling his cheeks heat up at the slip up. “Sorry, practicing.”

You shake your head, a small smile on your lips. “Hey. I wanted to be the one to tell you, there’s a lot of press here tonight. I heard Rolling Stone might try talking to you.” Your voice shakes slightly as you deliver the information.

Eddie is far too used to the overwhelming amount of public attention that comes with being a successful musician. It’s something he can’t stand, and you know that well. Nosy reporters were a huge reason he didn’t like when you would go on tour with him when the two of you actually were together. He was insistent on you not being seen with him, because he didn’t want them twisting your image. It was a selfish thing, Eddie realizes now. You are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but Eddie didn’t want to share you with the world. You were his to protect, and only his to be in love with.

But the world is falling in love with you now, for something you had created without him, and he feels all the pride for you in the world. Every day he wishes he’d been more supportive. Maybe this is his second chance?

“Thank you for the warning.” Eddie answers after a beat too long. You nod your head once, and pivot to leave the room when Eddie hears himself call, “Wait!” You turn to him again, waiting for him to continue. “You, uh, you think you could help me with something?” Eddie’s shy again, suddenly, like he’s back in high school asking you to go to prom with him. And he wasn’t even shy when he asked you to prom.

“Sure, what is it?” You walk deeper into the room, and Eddie moves aside to make room at the small vanity mirror. He slides his open journal toward you, where the page is littered in words crossed out, rewritten, and crossed out again. He snatches his guitar from where it leans against the wall, throwing it over his lap in a swift motion, despite the tight space.

“I have had this thing, this melody stuck in my head all day, and I either need to know if I came up with it, or if I’m remembering it from somewhere.”

He finds the first notes, fingering the strings expertly to a twinkling melody.

—

Your POV

You are really trying to focus on the song he’s playing. It does sound familiar to you, but you can only hear it like this, unfinished and on the fly. You squeeze your eyes shut in concentration, really focusing on the way the song flows together, trying to put words to it that escape you.

Until you figure it out. Your eyes fly open, wide as the memory comes back to you with full force. “Oh my god.” You throw a hand over your mouth.

Eddie stops suddenly, and looks back to you in the mirror. “Shit, is this someone else’s song? I thought I had something really fuckin’ good here!”

“No, no. Well, yes and no.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at your confusing response. “It, uh. That’s the song we wrote together. Like, right after graduation, when we went to Steve’s lake house. You played it on that really gross acoustic guitar that was in the garage, the one we found when we were—“ You don’t finish the sentence, knowing the raunchy turn the story takes. “Anyway, we started fuckin’ around with it, ‘member? And you came up with that—“ you point lazily to his guitar still in his lap, “but we never put words to it, we kinda just forgot. That is insane.”

—

Eddie’s POV

The memory washes over him, like a tidal wave pulling him under. You’d had the guitar in your lap, strumming lazy chords as you tuned the old, barely usable guitar that had belonged to Steve’s mother in another life. He remembers how hot that day had been, a record breaking heatwave baking the entirety of the midwest. Your hair was piled high on your head to keep it off your sticky skin, glimmering with perspiration. You wore only a bikini top and shorts, feet bare and dirty with the mud of the backyard. He’d stolen the guitar from you, plucking the same chords he’d just been playing, You’d started humming, then eventually singing, to his music, a soft smile on your face as your eyes closed, focusing on the way the two sounded together. He remembers everything else about that night, too, from the clumsy sex in the shed to the bonfire surrounded by his favorite people.

He finally turns around, his head purposefully craned up to avoid being eye level with your chest. The space between you two is small, and he feels his heart rate quicken. “Oh, shit.” Is all he says, being rendered speechless by the discovery.

“No, I mean, it’s okay! It’s such a pretty tune it’d be a shame if one of us didn’t use it. You should!” He can’t help but hear the slight disappointment in your voice, like you feel something was taken from you, by him. The idea comes almost as quickly as the memory had. “What if we just, put the song out?”

You place a hand on your hip. “What, like as a duet?”

Eddie nods, feeling the hope take hold in his chest. “Yeah! Yeah, we could write it, record it when we stop in New York maybe, or even after the tour if you want. And the suits would eat it up, too. Especially with this whole thing we got goin’ on,” He gestures to the space between your bodies.

“Oh. So this would be like, a money grab for you?” The hurt is clear in your wavering voice, and Eddie’s smile is wiped from his face.

“No, of course not.”

“No, right, but it’s a nice little extra. Have your cake and eat it too, right?” Wrong. So wrong, but what is Eddie supposed to do? Now is not the time to be confessing that he’s still completely enamored with you, head over heels in love. It’s so unfair to you, to both of you, to put that out there right this second.

“I mean, if you wanna look at it like that, yeah. The extra money would be nice. But it would also be cool just to work with you again. For real this time, as friends.” He’s praying it’s a good enough save.

You shrug. “We can try, but I’m not confident in our ability to work together.” There’s a bite to your words, and Eddie winces. “But I gotta go, we’re on in an hour.” You turn, and leave the room with an extra sense of urgency.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie puts his guitar down, and throws his head into his hands.

—

Your POV

You angrily wipe the tear that’s escaped from your tear duct, annoyed with your own sensitivity. You’re absolutely overreacting, but the pain in your throat threatens to suffocate you if you don’t immediately do something about it.

And so, with nothing else running through your mind besides Eddie, the memories of him contrasting deeply with who he’s become, you stomp past your bandmates as they put the finishing touches on their makeup and hair, you slam the bathroom door behind you. You’d swiped the scissors from Harley months ago, and keep them in your toiletries bag for things like this. You grab a fistful of your hair and chop, not stopping to measure the length. You repeat the ritual on the other side, and again across the front of your face. When you’re finished, your hair looks like you lost a bet, your eyes are puffy from crying, and a string of snot has fallen down your face. You wipe it with your sleeve, and quickly change into the outfit hanging up on the towel rack: black sheer tights and a baby pink lingerie nightgown you’d thrifted in Montreal. You throw your leather jacket over it, do your makeup haphazardly as you hold the rest of your tears in, and apply an excessive amount of deodorant. You step out of the bathroom, and are immediately met with the horrified looks of your friends.

“What did you do?!” Sylvie throws their hands over their mouth in shock, and Lilith’s jaw unhinges as she gasps.

You shrug. “Needed a change. Now let’s rock the shit out of this place, huh?”

Your bandmates move to leave the room, not about to engage with your suddenly erratic behavior. You’re grateful for their silence, knowing you probably look ridiculous. This will give the press something else to talk about.

The noise of the crowd grows louder as you approach the wing. “Alright guys, go out there and-“ Steve cuts himself off as his eyes scan over you. “What the hell happened?”

Robin is quick to speak. “They’re fine. Don’t worry about this right now.”

“Right, but there are so many cameras out there, and I-“

“Steve!” Robin interrupts, shaking her head. “Not. Right. Now.”

Steve surrenders, lips tight. “Okay. Right. Go kick some ass!” He hugs each of your bandmates before they go on stage. When he gets to you, he rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, and pulls back when he discovers you’re shaking. “Are you alright?”

“Later.” You say shortly. More words about the subject will make you cry again. “I promise.”

“Okay. I love you. Do your thing.” He brings you into his hug, and you relish in your best friend’s warmth for a few seconds too long. The crowd is losing their minds.

“Okay, I gotta go.” And he lets you go. You walk onstage, and are blinded by the stage lights. The crowd never falters, even after seeing your new abomination of a haircut that Harley will surely kill you for later. Cameras flash from all corners of the room while fans whoop and holler for your band.

“What the fuck is up, Portland?!” You scream into the mic, and the answer is thousands of screams in your direction. “I just cut my hair in the bathroom, let’s fuckin’ party!” Lilith clicks her sticks together to count you off, and you launch into the first song of your set.

—

chapter xi

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @ghost-proofbaby @poisonedluv | send a message to be added🫶

[lokilysolbitch]

sorry i have such a pet peeve when people fight arguments with the wrong points and rn my fyp is full of taylor swift, it's like 40% "all her songs sound the same😡her lyrics are so cringe😡" etc and 40% is "nooo she has different sounding songs" AND THEN THEY CHOOSE THE MOST SIMILAR SOUNDING SONGS AS EXAMPLES or they go "um if she has cringe lyrics then explain this" and the choose the most basic possible lyric out of what like 11 albums of options and it's actually pissing me off so fucking bad

so first off here's some lyrics i think are pretty sick. i color coordinated them so the separate lyrics don't all blend together

from The Archer:

"And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years"

i love the imagery in this line from Cruel Summer:

"Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes"

from Would've, Could've, Should've:

"God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind"

for context would've, could've, should've is filled with themes of christianity, god, the devil so i love the line about stained glass windows representing trauma here

from right where you left me:

Help, I'm still at the restaurant

Still sitting in a corner I haunt

Cross-legged in the dim light

They say, "What a sad sight"

I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

Right when I felt the moment stop

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

I, I stayed there

Dust collected on my pinned-up hair

They expected me to find somewhere

Some perspective, but I sat and stared

Right where you left me

the imagery!! it perfectly represents being stuck in a traumatic memory. haunting the space and collecting dust while everyone expects you to move on already. very cool metaphor/analogy

from I Know Places:

You stand with your hand on my waistline

It's a scene, and we're out here in plain sight

I can hear them whisper as we pass by

It's a bad sign, bad sign

Somethin' happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes

And guns

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run

from Dancing With Our Hands Tied:

I could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

But we were dancing

Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied

both I Know Places and Dancing With Our Hands Tied are about dating while being scrutinized by the public. i just love the metaphor and imagery again

also bonus, the song my tears ricochet. im not even gonna show lyrics (the lyrics have funeral themes tho which i think is cool). just the phrase my tears ricochet for a song discussing someone hurting you and then missing you when you leave is so smart. look how my pain struck right back at you. like damn

next section:

i feel like it would be easy to combat "all her songs sound the same" comments when the artist being talked about literally had the public in outrage when she switched from country to pop. so my question is why are people responding to those comments with songs within the same Genre and Same Album ????????????? pick literally Any Other Song. i am going to lose it.

here's a list of songs you could listen to and hear very different sounding songs. again i coloured the songs and it corresponds to albums

...Ready For It? (these red ones are from the Reputation Album)

Endgame

New Year's day

Don't Blame Me

willow

champagne problems

Lavender Haze (these purple ones up here are from the Midnights album)

Sweet Nothing

Picture To Burn

New Romantics

Slut!

State Of Grace (this red one is from Red)

Better Than Revenge (this purple one is from Speak Now)

analyzing Taylors music is a special interest of mine, so i'm more familiar with the songs than anything about her, and she's not even my fave musician but i'm seeing both diehard swifties and haters misrepresent her music so fucking bad it's bothering me so much. sometimes the music hits sometimes it doesn't. you can't have absolutes after 11 albums and idk at least three genre changes.

pls keep it cordial in the comments and reblogs 💃i've just seen some weird, horrid, and violent comments on taylor swift type content and i need y'all to be normal about this. bc at some point it says Much More about you than taylor

[lvxybby]

Music Ties (kurt cobain x fem! reader) (pt5) WARNING: talk of sex, talk of drugs,

the door to the apartment opened to reveal kurt. he was wearing his sonic youth shirt and some torn pants. i wore a sweater with some sage green cargo pants. my makeup was done nicely but not my best. just some eye shadow, eyeliner, foundation and concealer, and a hint of bright red lipstick. "sorry im not looking the best right now" kurt spoke rubbing his neck. "its ok, i know you have a lot of things on your hands anyways" i reassured him. he coughed a bit before moving out of the door frame and letting me in. his apartment was nicely clean and smelled fresh. like a spring morning. "hello" i heard dave's soft voice say. "good afternoon dave" i said waving and smiling. kurt shut the door and walked over to me. "uh ok...fuck what do we do first..." he said avoiding eye contact. "um...i dont know...get to learn more about each other maybe..." i said admiring the room. some of his guitars were on stands or on the wall. it was a very clean apartment. but i couldn't stop thinking of kurt. i couldn't stop thinking of his hands wrapped around my waist and pulling me into a deep kiss. but this was serious. it was work. i had to stay focused even if it seemed impossible. "ok that sounds good..." kurt said giving me a small smile. it was perfect. so pretty. i wanted to kiss him so bad. but i couldn't....i knew i couldn't...were just band mates and friends...nothing more....dave went to the kitchen and made him some lunch before going outside. we were alone. anything could happen. absolutely anything. me and kurt just stared at each other before kurt spoke. "uhm...tell me something about you i guess" the situation couldn't be any more awkward. "ok...i smoke weed..." i spoke fidgeting with my hands. "oh thats cool...may i ask why?" kurt spoke lifting his eyebrows. "well i have really bad anxiety and i overthink a lot of situations...or when i cant get something off of my mind...." i said putting my hands in my pockets. kurt may be a nice, calm, understanding guy but i still wanna look my best as if it was a job interview for a huge million dollar company. i want to seem presentable to him even though hes a laid back guy that doesnt give two shits what you do as long as your ok and not in trouble. i want him to notice me and run his hands up and down my body. i want him to strip me nude and fuck me until i pass out. i want him so so bad. but its not a want. its a need. i need him so bad. i need him to touch me. i snapped out of my short trance when he spoke again. "...same..." he said nodding his head to my statement. "i started when i was 13 or 14..." he continued. "15...." i said looking at him. "feeling a bit better after last night?" i asked "hm? oh yeah....thanks you helped out a lot even if it was just fetching my meds...it hurts so bad....and my back is so much worse...im constantly in pain. and my guitar doesn't help...it weighs so much and when i perform for hours my shoulder hurts and i get really sore...like now...." he said rubbing his shoulder. "awe im sorry..." is said looking at his blue eyes. "scoliosis sucks....i would do anything to have good health....absolutely anything" he said putting his arm by his side again. we talked a bit more and what my position was going to be in the band. soon it started to pour down rain and it was really bad. it was extremely loud, dark, and the roads were super slick. i couldn't drive in it at all if i wanted to. it was late at night. around 10:00. it was pitch black. you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face. "holy shit...thats some bad rain..." kurt said as he looked out his window. "i...i cant drive in that...i'll crash..." i said looking at kurt. "you can stay here for the night...i don't want you driving in that either...too dangerous" he said coming back over to me. i sat on the couch in between dave and kurt, they weren't gonna do anything. they're feminist. "well....wanna watch a movie?" dave asked flipping his long brown hair out of his face. "sure" kurt said before looking at me. i nodded my head in agreement. "sounds good"

[apilgrimpassingby]

hello! i just wanted to say i am so pleased to find your blog😊your views on masculinity are so very refreshing, and i wish there were more blogs like you here.

so i wanted to ask you something!! sorry it’s a bit of a long-winded explanation, i am prone to overexplaining😭

i am sort of unofficially dating this guy—we still have to talk about it, but we do like each other a lot and are just taking it step by step. he’s very artistic, enjoys literature, he’s deep and introspective, and he’s very emotionally intelligent. one thing he has always talked about is how he loves examples of masculine men in fiction that aren’t necessarily athletic, like himself. he is gentle and kind, while still being protective and nurturing, and he takes good care of himself—but sometimes people will call him feminine or girly for his interests, or for actually taking care of his body/having a fashion sense (im pretty sure it is also because he learned to take care of himself this way a lot earlier than other guys in his class, so they were all just kinda like🤨)

i was wondering if you have any suggestions on how i can uplift him and help him feel secure in his masculinity. obviously it is not up to me to make him feel masculine, that’s not what i mean—i was just wondering if there is anything i can do, or avoid doing, to remind him that i don’t think of him as weak or what-have-you, since sometimes i know guys can start to feel that way if they aren’t necessarily athletic or if they don’t enjoy sports, because that is sort of the masculine stereotype—and i would imagine that society definitely makes you feel less masculine if you don’t fit into that.

it’s alright if there isn’t really anything to be said since this might be a bit of a weird question, but it’s something i think about a lot so i decided to just go ahead and ask. i would just hate to add to any of his anxieties or unintentionally cause him to question his masculinity, if that makes sense? i would like to support him in any way i can, whether subtly or directly.

thank you for taking the time to read this if you did, and no pressure to answer it, especially since i sort of just sprung this in your ask box. just know that your blog is appreciated and i am glad that you are here and sharing your thoughts. i hope you are well :)

Here are my attempts to help.

Point to historical/literary examples. Yes, I believe there is an essential "masculine function" that has been more-or-less constant across recorded history and human culture; but the Left is right to say that the form of it has historically been tremendously diverse. Taking care of appearance? The Spartans didn't just braid and oil their hair, their did so in public before their enemies as a show of masculine prowess. Literature? My ideal man, King David, wrote poetry (which the Bible has recorded for us). If you want more examples, message me and I'll happily provide them.

In terms of taking care of his body, it's a part of the relationship - you presumably want him to look good. Do you do it for your woman's happiness? That makes it a chivalrous - and, thus, manly - action.

More generally, step away from modern masculinity and towards historical exemplars. My chosen ones are David (as already said) and the chivalric code of high and late medieval Europe. Many people also look to the men of The Lord of the Rings who are, of course, rooted in the characters of early medieval English and Scandinavian literature.

As for not liking sport, that ties into the above points - a good masculinity is applicable to all men. It's about protecting your wife and children, providing for them, and leading them by word and example. That's what (in my humble opinion) real manliness is. For me, as a Christian (don't know if you're one) the essential masculinity passages are the example of David (1 Samuel 16 to 2 Samuel 23) and Ephesians 5:25-30. Nothing about doing sport or eating steak.

Hope this helps! And don't worry about bothering me, I always like receiving asks in my inbox.

[kayslibrary]

~Growing pains~

George Weasley x nonbinary reader 

A/N: Hey, people of the internet! It tis i!! Back with some more George Weasley fanfiction. It's a damn shame there's little to none of it on Tumblr, but it’s whatever. I Hope you like Angst with a side of fluff because that’s what's on the menu. I hope you enjoy My doodles!!! And if you want a specific trope, don’t hesitate to request one! I’ll try my best to get it out as fast as possible. Anyway, ENJOY!!!

Warnings~ the readers are non-binary with not much-added description, so be wild with your mind, cussing; yes, we use potty mouth around these parts. I think that's about it. Please let me know if I missed anything!!

Synopsis

You and George were at his home for the holidays when some of Fred’s friends started to chat you up. One thing led to another, and you were in a room with the group while they were shit-talking about your boyfriend. It all went down when he found out during dinner. 

It was winter break when Mrs. Weasley gave Fred the ok to bring people over.

“Oi Y/N,” Fred calls from his room. “Yes?” you say as you lean against the door frame. “I have some friends I want you to meet; Y/N meet Marlon, Cyrus, Lorenzo, and Kaullm '' he says as he goes down the line, introducing them one by one, “nice to meet you all,” You wave awkwardly. “Come in; we’re not gonna bite..unless you want us to,” Kallum jokes. “So tell me, Y/N, you have a partner by chance?” Lorenzo asks curiously. “Stop jacking with her. She’s spoken for.” Fred sighs. “By who…you?” Marlon adds, scooting a bit closer to Fred. “No..never Fred,” you joke. “George?” Marlon guesses. “Yup,” you say plainly. “Aw, Fred, you dick, how could you pass this absolute hottie to that wet blanket.” Cyrus jokes as the rest of them laugh. “Don’t like her that way,” Fred says playfully. “George is a one-off to you, Fred. A fuckin prude.” Marlon seethes as you stand up. “What's wrong, Y/N” Fred asks. “Nothing. Just tired. See you later, Fred,” you say silently as you go to the room that you share with Ginny. “Hey Y/N, what’s wrong?” she asks as you face plant on your bed. “Nothing,” you silence as you try to take a nap. 

Dinner came faster than you expected, “that's right everyone tuck in!” Molly chimes as she passes around a bowl of soup. “So George, tell me..” Marlon. “How is Y/N..she you know…” he trails off  “how i am is none of your concern marlon..drop it” you spit. “Oi weasel got your partner speaking for you? Can’t speak up? You’re such a deadbeat downer.” Kallum seethes playfully as the whole table laughs. “Stop.” George Says sternly as he stands up and walks away “george…fuck you guys” you say as you walk after him, you finally make it to his room to see him on his bed reading a book. “George…” you trail off walking into his room “are you embarrassed of me Y/N?” he asks simply, “what? No” you say “Y/N…i-im sorry but- ""don’t you dare finish that sentence” you say tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “You’re too good for me Y/N don't you see? We aren't good for eachother.” he explains walking over to you. “George. Listen to me, we are made for one another. Dont let those ass holes tell you ANY different” you say trying to reason with him. “I want us to be together George.” you Cried holding his face. “Don’t leave me.” he begged silently, his voice cracking. “I won't, I promise.” you say as you kissed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Apologize to my brother.” Fred commands “we’re sorry.” the group of boys say in unison. “I couldn't quite hear yall…George could you hear them?” you ask as he shakes his head no, “right Apologize. CORRECTLY” you tell them sternly “we’re sorry george.” they breathe “right thank you.” Fred says “now we’re leaving” the group of boys say as they walk out the house leaving Y/N and George there. “You really didn’t have to make them say sorry.” George states as you both sit on the couch, “yes i did george. I needed them to know that if it was to happen again they would've gotten a lot worse than a few pathetic sorrys” you smile as he kisses your forehead “thank you nonetheless my love” George replied “anytime my dear.” you smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Welp that was sum else. I feel like I can't really write angst too well when I'm sad. I have to do it when I'm in one of my moods. ANYWAYS hope you enjoyed this one i really have to get back on my george grind. Remember my inbox is Always open and my requests are open as well so don't be shy, request something  and it’ll be on my page in a timely manner.  

Enjoy your day, night etc etc My doodles :)

P.S~ I SAID NO WEIRD SHIT IN MY INBOX YOU LITTLE SHITS STOP SENDING ME PORNO ADS PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

[lord-shitbox]

entire ask game. send me asks too or ill bite you really ahrd

assuming you said this for the 'weirder asks' game. godbless

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

Gozu and mezu

lighter or matches?

I like lighters more but i only have a matchbox (the striking paper on it is shit anyways)

do you leave the window open at night?

ye

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

none

what color are your eyes?

brown

why did you do that?

do wot

hair-ties or scrunchies?

Hair ties

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

None. 2 glasses and a mason jar though 

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

Cold. on ice

would you slaughter the rich?

Idc about killing them i just want their wealth redistributed

favorite extracurricular activity?

Fucking around at the grocery store en masse

what kind of day is it?

Did not do a single piece of schoolwork but i did every other possible task

when was the last time you ate?

Within the hour. Had a bowl of rice on my desk

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

ya

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

no

can you drive?

no

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

nearsighted

what hair products do you use?

none

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

If you want me to ya

do you say soda or pop?

soda

something you’ve kept since childhood?

A lot of things. Stuffed animals, jewelry

what type of person are you?

chilling

how do you feel about chilly weather?

👍 but i prefer mild temperatures. The kind of just-barely cold that isnt really cold. I don’t like wearing lots of clothes

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

Depends on who you are. for u specifically, probly not much

perfume/body spray or lotion?

Mmmm…i dont own any body spray but i have mixed feelings about the texture of lotion. It’s not actually that bad but i don’t like putting wet stuff on me (same genre of sensory dislike as wearing lots of clothing)

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

Uh.. like daydream? There’s one i used to have but its really really edgy and embarrassing 

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

Last night, 12. On weekdays its like 6

do you wear a mask?

No sorry

how do you like your shower water?

warm

is there dishes in your room?

Yes leave me alone

what type of music keeps you grounded?

Heavy stuff. Like fast and hard noises. Nothing slow

do you have a favorite towel?

yeah

the last adventure you’ve been on?

Went 2 bowser movie wth an extended group of people last night and afterwards we walked to winco and did funny things in shopping carts

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

Tbh…no. Im really good at remembering song lyrics in general but i dont think there are any in particular i memorize

what’s your timezone?

Doxx me why don’t you

how many times have you changed your url?

Never <3

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

Uhh.. not really? Am not in much contact with childhood close friends (theres one ive seen a few times recently but we haven’t actually talked). I believe i’ve known tuna for upcoming 8yrs though

a soap bar that smells good?

I dont like bar soap i like the liquid kinds. Old spice

do you use lip balm?

During dry lip season (i forget when this is) my lips get dry as fuck 

did you have any snacks today?

ye

how do you take your coffee?

With ice and chocolate in it

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

Discord & instagram 

what’s your take on spicy foods?

yum (reasonable spice tolerance)

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

Nobody…i hate some people 2 death (i dont think about them so i forget who they are) but theyre not bothering me rn so idc

can you remember what happened yesterday?

Bowser moive

favorite holiday film?

Year without a santa claus (IM MR FREEZE MISER)

what was the last message you sent?

“so far i think the only red text thats restricted to origin is mhin's”

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

Idk ive had sips in young youth. Parents would give me some so i could go “wow this tastes nasty” and not crave any ever (they were right for this)

can you skip rocks?

I may have done it successfully like twice in my life

can i tag you in random stuff?

Ya sure