#teen angst

[shakaprio]

girls just wanna blog, play dress to impress, and giggle over edits

[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.5  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.7

p.6

AN: Have you eaten yet? this guys an angsy lil shit

warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

the talk

When Toji came home, Megumi’s protectiveness magnified tenfold.

His usual quiet demeanor gave way to something more intense, almost territorial. Without realizing it, he’d position himself between you and his father, his sharp eyes narrowing every time Toji stood too close or made an offhand remark. It was subtle at first, but it grew harder to ignore.

“Why’re you standing so close to her like that?” Megumi’s voice would cut through the air, low and firm, laced with thinly veiled disdain.

Toji, never one to miss an opportunity to provoke, would sport his usual smirk. “Relax, kid. She’s my wife, you know.”

That word—wife—hit Megumi like a sucker punch, sending something bitter and ugly twisting inside him. He hated it. Hated the way Toji said it with that smug tone, as if it were a brand.

Hated the way you responded so nonchalantly, as though it didn’t faze you at all. Toji calling you wife felt deliberate, like his father was staking a claim on something Megumi didn’t fully understand—but desperately wanted for himself.

It set his teeth on edge, made his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t name—most definitely couldn’t ignore. The feeling so abstract, something that had been building up in the months spent at your side. Learning everything he could about you.

“It’s not like it’s real,” Megumi snapped suddenly, his fists clenched at his sides, his voice harsher than he intended. “She’s just your arranged wife. Stop acting like it’s anything more than that. She doesn’t even want you that close in the first place. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

The room went still, a suffocating tension settling between the three of you. Even you froze, caught off guard by the venom in Megumi’s tone. Toji’s smirk faltered slightly, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied his son.

You braced yourself, worried another fight might erupt to completely sour the evening.

But then something shifted. Toji seemed to catch onto something—something even you hadn’t fully noticed. You've caught yourself a little lovesick puppy. His laugh came low and mocking. And his signature smirk returned, sharper than before, as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms.

“Man, you’re so protective,” he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension, every word a deliberate jab. “You do know I’m the reason she’s here in the first place, right? Gotta admit, it’s kinda weird, though—acting all territorial over your mom.’” He practically spat the word mom—a taunt rather than anything sincere. Megumi was sure to say that out loud around him. So why the hell was he hurling it like an insult?

And yet the jab had hit Megumi harder than he expected—not because it was wrong, but because of how disgusting it felt coming from Toji.

So what if he called you “Mom”. He'd always said it quietly, in moments where it felt safe—where he knew he wouldn’t be called out for it.

So what if he liked how you smiled when you heard it, the warmth in your voice when you responded, the way your gaze lingered on him like he was the most important person in the room. In the world. It had made him feel... secure, like you wouldn’t leave him no matter what.

But hearing it from Toji’s mouth, laced with mockery, made it feel almost...invasive. Like he was twisting it into some kind of fucked up joke.

It boiled under his skin, consuming and unbearable, a flame that refused to die out. Why did it piss him off so much? Why did it matter what Toji said? And why did it feel like Toji was seeing right through him—exposing the feelings that even Megumi himself didn’t fully understand? And right in front of you—

“Shut up! She’s not my mom,” Megumi hissed back, much sharper than he intended, unable to keep the vitriol out of his tone. He didn’t even know why he felt the need to clarify. Why those words spilled out like a defense.

But the moment they left his lips, guilt crashed over him like a wave. His gaze darted to you, instinctively, catching the flicker of hurt in your eyes before you quickly masked it—taking a deep breath. His chest tightened painfully, shame coiling in his gut.

He hated that he’d made you feel that way, hated that he’d let Toji push him into lashing out. Hated that he needed to hide it. Toji shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. He wanted to say something to fix it, to reassure you, but the words stuck in his throat, refusing to come.

You sighed, stepping in before the tension could spiral further out of control. Toji’s taunt had struck a nerve in you as well. His oh-so casual reminder of your arranged marriage—of why you were here. Your arrangement bound by duty more than choice—just why the hell was he bringing it up? Like an unspoken warning that you couldn’t place. It stirred something uncomfortable in your chest, but you pushed it aside.

This wasn’t about you.

Right now, it was about defusing the storm brewing in the room.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said firmly, your gaze cutting to Toji with a sharpness that immediately silenced his smirk. Surprisingly, he left little argument for when you bothered to step into their fights.

“Toji, stop teasing him.” You turned to Megumi, your expression softening—if not just a little, your tone gentler but no less firm.

“And Megumi…” a voice with such warmth you reserved for him. How would you phrase this? “Toji is my husband. It’d be weirder if he avoided me. But I’m here for both of you, okay? Not just him, not just you. Both of you. We’re family. So let’s try to get along, yeah?”

Megumi didn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenching as he stared at the floor, his emotions a tangled mess he couldn’t even begin to unravel. 

Family. 

He despises that word, loathes the way it forced Toji into something that, in his mind, should have been just you and him.

The warmth in your voice, the way you said it with such sincerity, made his chest tighten painfully. It stirred something deeper than anger or frustration—something vulnerable and raw that he didn’t know how to name. Disgust. Jealousy. Delirium.

Before Megumi could even begin to piece together the scattered fragments cutting him mind, you gently shooed both of them out of the kitchen.

Your calm words was stern, your smile soft but unyielding as you set the boundary. Pushing him by his shoulders towards the doorway. “Go, Megumi. Relax for once, okay? I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

He wanted to argue—he always helped with dinner—but the way you smiled at him left him unable to make an excuse. He didn’t want to upset you. Didn’t want you to hate him.

Reluctantly, he left, the loss of your presence settling over him like an ache.

Toji, watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow, smirked as he pushed off the counter. “Got him well trained already, huh?” he quipped, but his tone lacked its usual bite, almost as though he were trying to gauge your reaction. He had picked up on something. Something he didn’t exactly like.

You didn’t spare him a glance, your attention focused on the meal in front of you. “It’s called building trust,” you replied smoothly, your voice easygoing. But with a subtle edge. That warning telling him not to pester you.

Toji chuckled softly, a low, thoughtful sound, before turning and following Megumi out of the kitchen.

Outside the kitchen, Toji followed Megumi to the living room, leaning lazily against the wall, his smirk as irritating as ever.

It was the kind of expression that always set Megumi’s nerves on edge, a reminder of just how easily his father could get under his skin. They fought constantly these days. Even when Megumi tried to ignore him.

The silence between them stretched, heavy and loaded, before Toji finally spoke, his tone dripping with a hint of mockery. He was always the first to provoke.

“What’s got you so riled up lately, huh? Acting all high and mighty—like you’re the man of the house.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, as he shot his father a glare. “I’m not acting like anything,” his voice taut. Ready for the oncoming argument.

Toji snorted, pushing off the wall lazily, his smirk widening with amusement. Strolling closer to where Megumi sat on the couch. He made it so easy to stir the pot.

“Sure, sure. That’s why you’re always hovering around her, huh? You like calling her ‘Mom,’ don’t you? Only I’ve noticed you only do it when you think I’m not around, yeah?”

Megumi’s face burned, heat rushing to his cheeks at the way Toji phrased it. “Shut up,”—a sentiment he always spat at least once when interacting with his father.

Toji’s grin only deepened, clearly feeding off his reaction. But he needed to get to the bottom of this.

“What’s this—huh? Some kinda mommy fetish? You’re a weird kid, you know that? But don’t forget—she is my wife. She needs this marriage a hell of a lot more than I do, so keep that in mind. Wouldn’t want word getting out that my boy’s been drooling all over her, yeah?”

“Shut up!” Megumi’s voice rose, drowning out the faint sounds from the kitchen. Striking another on the counter. He kept himself taunt, fully prepared to throw punches, no matter the outcome.

And if he’s honest—he didn’t care about the mocking tone, the smug smirk, the bait Toji was throwing.

No. All he cared about was you—the person Toji dared to talk about so casually, so possessively, like you belonged to him.

Like he knew you.

Like he deserved you.

Toji chuckled, shaking his head as he straightened up.

"Relax, Megs. I’m just messing with you," his voice drawling out the words. Though there was a slight edge to his voice that felt more probing. More insistent. He wasn’t getting anywhere like this.

He forced his voice low, conspiratorially, the humor draining away. More serious than he’s ever been with the kid.

"But seriously, what’s with you lately? Always stuck to her like glue—damn near biting my head off if I so much as breathe near her. So what is it? You think she needs you or somethin’?”

“What’s your point?” barely masking the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

That look in his eyes—he’s confirmed it. Megumi was an open book by this point. How you hadn’t even noticed it was astounding. Maybe too swept up in your role in their world. In being the perfect little housewife.

But he couldn’t let this go. Not that he really cared whether Megumi liked you—no.

That wasn’t the issue.

Toji watched—his sharp gaze piercing right through Megumi. “My point? You’re playing with fire, kid. You’re gettin’ too close to her, and you don’t even realize it. Her clan’s no joke—they’re a problem waiting to happen. And trust me, it won’t look good if someone thinks you’re trying to....I dunno, play house or somethin’.”

Megumi froze, his breath catching in his throat. Playing house with her? The insinuation made his stomach twist, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“What are you talking about?” he said sharply, not able to keep his confusion from bleeding into defensiveness. “She’s my…she’s family.”

Toji raised a brow, his smirk growing more condescending by the second. “Family, huh? Is that what you’re telling yourself? That why you’re lookin ready to throttle me every time I get close to her?”

He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to something—a warning. The only true warning he’s ever given Megumi. “You’re a kid. You don’t even know what you’re feeling yet, so let me make it simple. Her clan’s trouble. Big trouble. And if they catch even a whiff of you trying to get closer to her—closer than you should—they won’t just make it your problem. They’ll make it hers, too."

Megumi’s fists remain clenched, his glare unwavering. But he can’t deny it—Toji’s words hit like a bucket of ice water, freezing something deep inside him. His mind raced, still trying to process the implications of his words. Still reeling at the thoughts of playing house with you. Of what he was really feeling here.

Toji didn’t let up, his tone growing heavier with meaning. “You know they’ve got their eyes on you, right? Them and the Zenin clan? They’re not the kind of people you want to be messing with. You so much as breathe wrong, and they’ll have you tangled up in their bullshit before you even know what hit you.”

Her clan. His father’s clan. Two powerful entities with enough influence to manipulate countless minds—meddling in affairs where they had no place. The thought made Megumi’s stomach twist uncomfortably, a heavy knot of unease forming within him.

He’d known about your clans visits, their persistence, the weight they seemed to hold over you. But hearing Toji say it like this, with an edge of warning, unsettled him.

Were they really that dangerous? Were you in more trouble than you let on? What did they mean to you? You hadn’t ever hinted at the possibility that they could be a threat. His mind raced, questions colliding with emotions he couldn’t quite untangle. Just what was Toji implying? He felt crazy—not able to form a rationale sentiment.

His judgment clouded.

“I can handle it,” Megumi said stiffly, his voice cold, though his chest remained tight. Not fully believing his own words. “Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it.”

Toji’s smirk widened, his sharp eyes boring into Megumi like he was dissecting him, pulling apart his defenses with ease.

The kid never had much experience with the clan life either way. So how else was he gonna know what they were really after? Toji may not be a great father. But he did his job well. Megumi hadn’t any clue what this could mean for him.

There was no humor in Toji’s expression, only a bitter edge that made Megumi’s skin crawl. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about, do you?” His tone almost pitying, the mockery cutting deep. “Like I said before—you’re a kid. You think you can protect her? Keep her safe from that world? You can’t even tell how bad you’ve got it.”

Megumi stayed silent, unwilling to give Toji the satisfaction of a reaction. But Toji wasn’t finished. Wanting the warning to stick. Needing it to.

“The Zenin clan…” he drawled, bitterness coating the words. His gaze grew distant for a moment, as if dredging up something unpleasant.  “They’d love to get their hands on you. You’re already on their radar.”

Though his voice remained calm, the weight of his words settled heavily in the room, the faint clang of dishes sounding in the background. A running sink.

A constant reminder of your presence.

“Y’know that’s why she’s here, right?” Toji stalled, looking back as if making sure you weren’t overhearing this. Nearly debating on if was worth telling Megumi about this in the first place.

He didn’t like the idea of placing more pressure in his son’s only relationship—if he could call it that. That bond was still a type of relationship, after all. No—he didn’t like the alternative. Didn’t like where any of this was headed. At the very least, he wanted Megumi to know the full truth—have all the facts, and make an informed decision for himself.

“Funny how they work—arranged marriages. The clan heads can decide whatever they want. They’ve got so much control, especially over people like her—Women, y’know. It’s just another move to pull you in. Sent her here to watch…to get information—on you, on me. See if you’re all talk.”

Megumi’s eyes dart to his father’s, surprise painting his features. And for all intents and purposes, Toji met his gaze—piercing and unreadable, pinning him down. His tone so shamelessly casual, as if he were discussing the weather.

Megumi’s felt his head spin at the statement. He didn’t want to believe him. Didn’t want to think you could do that to them—to him. But worst of all—his didn’t want your affection to be fake.

Was it was true?—because why would Toji lie here? What would he get out of this?

He didn’t want to ask the question that burned at the back of his mind—didn’t want to hear his answer—not yet. But it slammed against his thoughts like stones pelting a wall. 

Why had Toji let someone like you into their lives in the first place?

“What do they want with me?” Megumi avoided the glaring question. The disbelief still strung across his face. Ensuring his voice didn’t carry to the next room.

“Your Ten Shadows Technique. That’s what they’re after. That’s the prize. They want to see if you’re worth the trouble. Investments and all that. And if you are, they’ll come for you.”  

Toji spoke it like he was telling a scary bedtime story. An unimaginable boogeyman lurking in the shadows, just waiting to snatch him up. It was almost comedic in a way.

“She hasn’t even asked about that,” he shot back, defensive. His mind still racing. He couldn't stand the pounding in his ears. The possibility that you might not be the person he thought you were. That you didn't actually care about him. Was this all a performance?

“She isn’t stupid,” Toji replied smoothly, his tone unnervingly calm. Feeling somewhat sympathetic for whatever the fuck you two shared.

“She’s sharper than they give her credit for, playing their game better than most of them realize. But don’t fool yourself, kid—she’s still here for a reason. She might care about you, but don’t pretend she’s not tied to a leash. And she will always be tied to it. Don’t forget this.”

Reeling. Turning. Spinning.

“Even she knows what’s at stake,”

Megumi’s glare faltered, feeling drained. Confusion was a constant these days. And it laced his tone as he pressed further. "If she’s not with them anymore, then why would she still be reporting to them? Why is she even talking to them at all?”

Toji sighed, moving to lean back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. “You think it’s that simple?” he said. “Clan heads don’t just let go of what they think is theirs. You don’t just walk away clean, kid. They’ve got ways to drag her back if they want to. Dissolve the marriage, make up some bullshit reason. Hell, if it’s anything like I remember, they don’t even need a reason. They’ll just take her.”

Megumi’s face contorted into a grimace.

“You think her life before this was sunshine and rainbows?” his voice dropping lower. “If it was anything like the shit I saw growing up, they probably already beat the defiance out of her a long time ago. I got out lucky, but not everyone does. You don’t survive in a clan like that by fighting back too much."

Toji reiterated—quite mercifully if he might add, "She’s not reporting because she wants to. She’s doing it because she has to.”

The silence stretched. Megumi’s mind replaying every moment he’d seen you quietly brushing off the clan’s calls, every forced smile, every dismissive excuse. The idea of you being under someone else’s control, in a way you couldn’t escape, twisted something inside him. A protective, feral instinct. A need to act. He knew you weren’t faking it. All of those moments—he couldn’t—no—wouldn’t believe it.

His unrelenting white hot anger surfacing at the thought of you enduring that kind of life. What else did he not know? The questions, the veiled threats, your nervousness—all of it had been happening right in front of him. The disgusting thought of someone beating you into submission—

“Let me be perfectly clear, kid—I don’t want you getting dragged into this clan bullshit. I’ve spent years keeping you out of it for a reason. I don’t like where this is headed, not one damn bit. But if you keep acting like this, keep pushing the way you are, they’re gonna notice. And when they do...”

He trailed off, the silence heavy and foreboding, as though Toji himself didn’t want to say it outright. But the implications were clear.

What could they do? Snatch you back? Use you as leverage? Dangle you over their heads like bait in their endless struggle for power and control? Force Megumi into a spot he didn’t want to be in?

Toji leaned in slightly, his voice cold and clipped. “They’ll use her. They’ll use you. And trust me, they won’t give a shit about what either of you wants. They’ll make it messy, and they won’t think twice about it. This isn’t some game you can play without consequences, Megumi.”

For once, there was no mockery in his tone, no smirk playing at his lips. He was dead serious.

Consequences.

What consequences would Megumi endure for you?

“I can handle it.”

Toji’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t change his mind, but he could correct the stupid. He didn’t want to see this. Didn’t want to see Megumi succumbing to those old fuckers.

“You don’t have the luxury of playing the fool here. If you’re serious about this—about her—then you better start thinking ahead. Because the way you are now? You’re weak. A burden at best. And a danger to her. Weak doesn’t stand a chance against people like them.”

The words rung like a bell, straight through him. It’s true. He’s right.

“If this is the hill you wanna die on, then you better do something about it,” Toji fixed Megumi with a small glare of his own. Something Megumi surprisingly saw rarely. “You’re not gonna get anywhere sitting around, sulking like a brat. You want to step up? Fine. Do it. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect your decision. Just know what you’re getting yourself into. Do it for the right reason. And make sure you aren't dragging her behind you along the way.”

Once again bathed in silence, they stared at each other. Opposite ends of the spectrum yet so similar in so many ways.

With a shrug that seemed too casual for the tension he’d left behind, Toji retreated back to the kitchen. Following your soft humming still drifting through the air. Oblivious to the fight that’d just take place.

Fight?

Maybe more like a warning.

To Megumi, your soft hums sounded almost mocking, a reminder of how you were so close, yet so far away. The warmth you brought into their lives was there, just out of reach, always at risk. And it only made the ache in his chest more unbearable.

Later that night, Megumi lay sprawled on his bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as his father’s taunting words played in his mind on an endless loop. 

Weak. Burden. Danger. 

He grit his teeth, the finality of it settling.

Distance—that’s what he needed. He needed to put some space between you and him, for your sake.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, his chest clenched painfully. The idea of pulling away, of losing the comfort of your presence, felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He hated this feeling.

Hated how much he relied on his father for protection, how Toji’s words exposed every insecurity he fought to ignore.

What made it worse was the truth behind them. If your clan really was as dangerous as Toji claimed, if they were determined to drag you back—or worse—what could he do to stop them?

Right now, he was nothing than a danger to your safety. The way his thoughts spiraled whenever he was around you, the way his heart twisted and burned with feelings he didn’t fully understand—it made him reckless. Possessive. Irrational.

He'd act on impulse, clinging to you like his life depended on it. His feelings still so jumbled, he tried to sort them out.

Why did his chest tighten every time you smiled at him?

Why did it matter so much when you called him family?

Why did he feel this gnawing need to keep you close, to make sure no one—not his father, not your clan, not anyone—could take you away?

Why were these feelings still present when he knew they weren’t dedicated to a mother?

It was raw and confusing, messy in ways he couldn’t yet fix.

But one thing burned through the haze of uncertainty: whatever this was, whatever you’d become to him, he couldn’t let it go.

He wouldn’t let it go.

You were the most important person in his life—that was for sure—and you were trapped in a problem he couldn’t resolve. Yet.

For so long, he’d stayed on the outskirts of jujutsu society, avoiding the weighty politics of clan life despite his continued development of the Ten Shadows technique.

But now he had to answer the question he’d been dodging: 

What was he willing to do for you?

His jaw was sore from all the clenching he did, he knew he couldn’t let things stay like this. Couldn’t keep standing idly by while Toji spoke about you like you were just his possession—his wife. While the higher ups—the clans threw around your life like it meant nothing.

Megumi’s feelings for you ran deeper than even he wanted to admit.

You weren’t just his stepmother.

You weren’t just someone who cooked and cleaned and made his life softer in ways he hadn’t known he needed.

You were…something else.

Something more. Someone who mattered in a way he couldn’t—wouldn’t—put into words. Something beyond words.

And if he wanted to prove that—to protect you the way you deserved—he couldn’t afford to hesitate. He needed to change. To get stronger. To become someone capable of standing by your side, someone who could protect you without relying on his father. He needed to grow up.

And fast.

p.7

AN: Thank you for reading! This is my last one for today, i've gotta go to bed-- to be continued soon. please give a follow and reblog if you want to stay updated - or follow along on my ao3

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

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[buglover77]

GHOSTBUSTERS FROZEN EMPIRE SPOILERS

if I see one person judge Phoebe for her poor decision making in her gay awakening first sapphic situationship I am going to go rabid… Phoebe ejecting her soul for a pretty girl she met like a week ago is the most realistic teenage gay experience I’ve ever seen in media

[comesatimecomesashadow]

her *ೃ༄

pairing *ೃ༄ carl grimes x gn reader

cw *ೃ༄ teen angst, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, teen romance, semi-slow burn, fluff

fic type *ೃ༄ one shot (?) | part ii

summary *ೃ༄ in which you fall in love with the freckle-filled, blue eyed boy who wears a sheriff's hat.

note *ೃ༄ this is what i do instead of my three week old homework, enjoy !

masterlist *ೃ༄

   Arriving in Alexandria was an odd thing. Here, people tried to build a ‘civilization’, as if the world outside the walls wasn’t gone to shit already. You often ventured outside the walls without anyone knowing — Anyone excluding Enid, of course — because you were afraid of becoming weak. Immersing yourself in Deanna’s delusion would do nothing for your survival, you were sure of it. 

   When Rick and his group were welcomed inside the walls, you noticed their rough demeanors and the rugged way in which they carried themselves. They were a contrast to the people of Alexandria and because of that, their presence alluded you, even when others were weary of them. But you stayed away. Not because you were scared of them too, but because you’d rather not get close to anyone again. Regardless of what your instincts wanted you to do. 

   Enid would sometimes hang out with you alone or go with Ron and the others to fill the time that you all now had. You usually just spent the days in the attic of the empty house down the street. You’d heard a lot about the blue eyed boy with the sheriff’s hat from Enid, he seemed kinda awkward to you but you didn’t fault him. It was probably strange going from having to fight walkers 24/7 to now having the time for video games; You remember feeling that way too. 

   You were no stranger to the crushing weight of loneliness that followed all those who survived. Sometimes, you wonder if you should’ve just let yourself be eaten. But you were afraid you’d be betraying the last thing your dad told you. ‘Live! Fight and Live!’, you remembered his words vividly. You also remembered the screams that came next. 

   The leaves crunched under your boots as you walked towards your secret hangout. 

   No one, not even Enid, knew where it was. It was the place in the forest you went to whenever you felt lonely, it was a comfort to you most of the time. There in the secluded spot, you had a box with a broken lock hidden with leaves and sticks, it was full of your scavenged art supplies. Drawing was something you liked to do ever since you were a kid, it was one of the only things the apocalypse hadn’t taken from you. 

   As you approached your secret hideout, you noticed a familiar boy with the famous sheriff's hat sitting against the log you always sat at. You bit your lip and walked a little faster. ‘What was he doing here?’ You were a little upset at this. 

   “..How did you find this place?” your words were clear and loud enough so he could hear. You didn’t intend for it to come off as mean as it sounded, but then again maybe that was the best choice. You’d met different groups before coming to Alexandria and people always tended to be selfish people. Even in Alexandria, you noticed how most of the kids your age were selfish, hence why you hid your secret space even from Ron and his group. Why would this guy be any different? 

   He got up and met your eyes, seeming like a deer caught in headlights. He left your sketchbook on the ground. “I was just- Uh, I was walking around and found this place. Do you.. Hang around here, or..?” You could tell he was nervous and frankly, it felt awkward. 

   You sat on the ground next to the not-so-hidden box and grabbed the notebook he left on the ground. He opted to sit next to you. “To answer your question, yeah. I hang here by myself- most of the time at least.” You flipped to an empty page and grabbed some of your pens and markers from the chest. 

   The boy glanced down at your drawing, observing you. Then he began to speak again, less nervous this time. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Carl.” 

   “...” You kept your eyes on the notebook. Should you be friendly with him? After a few moments of silence you told him your name and could see him slightly smile in the corner of your eye. “..Are you gonna stay here?” 

   “Do you mind it?” he asked. You shook your head. He seemed harmless for the most part, maybe he wasn’t like Ron and his friends. “Then.. Could I come here sometimes?” 

   “Why do you wanna?” you asked him, finally meeting his blue eyes. You noticed the freckles on his fair skin and the way his hair fell over his face was kinda funny to you. He was.. Something. Carl looked away from you, contemplating his words. 

   “Just cause.” He said with a small smile. You laughed a little at his words, sometimes it was hard to forget you were just kids. 

   “Alright then.” 

   The next few weeks, your routine began to change. 

   Normally, you’d wake up some time before the afternoon and get ready for the day. Afterwards, you’d help Olivia with the inventory and keeping track of rations. You’d go out on a run if you were asked to and if you weren't, your time was spent at your secret spot or with Enid. 

   However, ever since formally meeting Carl. Your secret hangout spot has become a shared secret hangout spot. He drew comic book characters on one of the notebooks in the chest at the spot, brought you art supplies when he came back from runs and even brought some of his own comic books. You noticed the way his facial expressions changed when he was immersed in his comics, the way he did that awkward side smile of his sometimes, you even caught him stealing glances at you sometimes. 

   But you never addressed it. 

   Not even when you began to find yourself disappointed when he missed a day at the spot. You had to remind yourself that he was just someone you met, it wasn’t like he belonged to you or anything. It wasn’t like you expected him to be there when you knew he had his own life too. 

   You told yourself then that you’d try to distance yourself. 

   Falling for someone, especially in the middle of a damn apocalypse, couldn’t go well. It just couldn’t. But it was hard to distance yourself when he seemed to be everywhere. Whenever you helped Olivia with keeping track of the inventory, he was there with his stupid, dorky smile and innumerous freckles. When you took a usual afternoon walk to clear your head, he waved at you and even joined you with his little sister in tow. 

   He was everywhere and that made it increasingly harder for you to bury your feelings away. 

   “What’re you drawing this time?” Carl asked. Your pencil stopped at the sound of his voice. You looked up and smiled involuntarily. For some reason, ever since you met him, you started to smile more often. Maybe he was just that easy to talk to, but you hated it sometimes. 

   “Walkers.” You gazed back down at your notebook that contained the scribbles and doodles of dismembered walkers and you even drew some of them with funny expressions and speech bubbles. “I know it’s twisted, considering they're the reason the world is ..shit. But I dunno,” you shrugged, wondering what he would think. Carl looked over your notebook, his hair tickling your shoulder. 

   Then he laughed. 

    “Is this one giggling? It looks funny,” A smile graced his features and a warm feeling crept into your heart at the sight of it. 

   “Yeah..!” You giggled and shaded in the drawing with some highlighters. 

   “When did you get into drawing?” 

   You shrugged, “I’ve always been into drawing, ever since I was a kid. I really liked comics n’ stuff, so I guess that’s what motivated me.” You found it endearing that he even asked because it meant that he was interested. You have never known what it felt like to have feelings like these, to feel so close to someone, but it was exciting. ..And scary at the same time of course. 

   It was then that you remembered that you’d forgotten your intentions of distancing yourself. 

   “Yeah? How come?” He picked up the comic book he had meant to continue reading and flipped to the page that had one of its corners dog-eared. 

   You put your pencil down and looked up at the sky peeking through the various green leaves blocking it. “It’s an outlet, I guess. Whenever I got lonely I’d just draw and draw till I forgot the loneliness.” 

   Carl lifted his gaze up to you again. “Do you still feel like that?” 

   You set your notebook down and hugged your knees closer to your chest before letting out a sigh. “Sometimes. Not as much nowadays though.” 

   “I’ve felt that way before too, actually. I thought I was the only one.” Carl admitted. He looked away when your eyes met his.  

   “Yeah?” You asked quietly. 

   He nodded his hands now flat on the ground at his sides and the comic forgotten on his lap. “I feel like it’s too normal sometimes.” Carl said. You agreed with his statement. “A lot of the people here aren’t prepared t’fight. I think that’s the scariest thing outta everything.” 

   “Why so?” you drew circles on the dirt. 

   “If someone, or something, from outside the walls wanted to take this place, they could.” Carl spoke as if it was fact. Maybe he was right. The wind whistled throughout the forest, a signal to return inside the walls now that the sun was also beginning to disappear. You put your notebook and his comic back inside the hidden box and closed it. 

   “We should get back, your dad’s probably wondering where you are.” You lent him a hand to help him up and he took it. His hand was a little calloused — but warm. 

   “Yeah, I guess so.” 

   He got up, but he didn’t let go of your hand. 

.

.

.

   The day the walkers came in through the walls was the day you returned to reality. You had to admit, being in Alexandria had indeed dulled your fighting skills — but it did not deter you. Plunging your knife into the skull of the walker in front of you, you headed toward the infirmary. Gunshots could be heard which only called in more from the swarm, you had to hurry.

   After a sprinting to the infirmary, you met Denise and began to help treat some of the patients that had gotten hurt. Your hands were quick at cleaning wounds and wrapping bandages, you’d picked up a lot of things before coming to Alexandria and you’d made it a habit to learn from Denise as a precaution. Luckily, it was paying off.

   ..Until Rick brought Carl to the infirmary with a grave injury to his right eye. 

   Your hands came to a sudden stop and trembled and you couldn't stop staring at him in utter shock of what had been done to him.  “What-..” 

   Denise helped Rick lay Carl down on the patient bed. “Get me the bandages, we need to stop the bleeding,” Denise ordered. Your mind went blank but you moved in a flash, handing her all the materials she needed to help him as if you were on autopilot. You didn’t ask Michonne nor Rick how it happened and you couldn’t either way since Rick decided to take his anger out on the walkers swarming outside. 

   Your eyes were laser-focused on the numbers reading Carl’s heart rate. 

   It was then that you realized just how much you cared about the freckled boy with the blue eyes, the sheriff’s hat he never took off and his stupid smile. 

   ..It was then that you realized how far you'd fallen for Carl. 

   “Is he..” your voice was shaky but Denise cut you off. 

   “He’s going to live. He will.” Her words were spoken in a strong tone but you didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself o..r you. In the meantime, you busied yourself with the other patients, most of the people huddling up inside the infirmary had left now and were beginning to go join Rick in his fight against the walkers currently swarming the inside of the walls. You couldn’t afford to think about him living or dying when other people were on patient beds fighting for their lives too. 

   But it was hard to not think about him. 

   You could only hope he would be alright. 

   The day seeped into the night sky and soon enough, Rick and the other Alexandrians had succeeded in massacring all the walkers inside the walls. Now, they were focused on making sure the walls would hold up while you still were tending to the patients in the infirmary with Denise. Luckily, some of the patients were recovering from their injuries now and waking up. From what Denise told you, Carl was unconscious but he was stable- He was alive.  That’s all that mattered to you. 

   You wanted to talk to someone, tell someone about all the feelings you were bottling up- but Enid was nowhere to be found. Neither was Ron or the other kids, and you couldn’t tell Denise because you knew how stressed she must have been. You left the infirmary and went outside to take in some air. The woman with the sword.. Michonne, you think her name was; She was outside of the infirmary as well. Carl’s dad, Rick, was there too. 

   “How is he?” Rick asked, you could hear the anxiousness in his voice. 

   You tried to give him a smile, “He’s doing better than when you brought him in, thankfully.” A few tears escaped Rick’s eyes but a small smile crept onto his lips. “..There was nothing we could do about his eye. But, ..He’ll live. You can go see him right now, he’s uhm.. He’s unconscious though.” Rick nodded and Michonne seemed relieved, but Rick was the only one who went in. Michonne stayed out on the steps with you. 

   You sighed and leaned against the wooden railing, your arms crossed and your heart full. 

   “Are you okay?” Michonne asked you genuinely.

   If it were in another time, any other time, you probably would have lied. But as soon as one tear strayed from your eye, a multitude of others seemed to follow. Michonne’s expression softened and she offered a hug, embracing your shaking body racked with emotions you couldn’t name. You didn’t know if you should be relieved, or worried- or both! 

   “It’ll be okay, [Name].” 

   You took a shaky breath in, “How..- How do you know that?” You looked up at her, your vision blurry. 

   She wiped your tears carefully, “Because we’re the ones who live.” 

   The words she spoke to you that day gave you hope. Luckily for you and his family he woke up a few weeks after the whole ordeal. However, you tried to avoid him as much as you could, like you had done before you met him. 

   You couldn’t look at him, not because of how he looked.. 

   ..but because you knew that the next time you saw him face to face, the dam of feelings you held inside would burst open instantly.

[lilousole]

Mother’s youth was loud and boyish. Mine is smothered by the very idea that I exist a little too much.

[angelofalls]

Some more teen lion angst..well only from Taka (Scar)

[eunokid]

all i do is try to forget and try to forget and try to forget and try to forget and try to forget and try to forget and

[xsirenvx]

Lockwood & co is like Supernatural and BBC Sherlock had a baby, with a good hint of Teen Angst.

Needless to say, i love it

[just-a-girl-07]

[wildlife4life]

Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the super amazing @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @tizniz (whole new fic!) and @wikiangela (who also dropped a new fic!) Thank you all so much!

Have to make up for the lack of football games today with another snippet from NFL Buck. And to go along with the today's drop of BTS photos with Buck and Christ, here is a scene with them. (All things NFL Buck)

"Do you want to go back to Houston? Live there?" Buck asks, his voice slightly downcast. It takes Christopher a back. Did he really upset his dad and Buck that much with his outburst? Are they going to break up? Are Christopher and his dad going to be sent away? Panic makes his chest go tight and his breaths come a little faster. Buck instantly catches on and drops to the floor kneeling in front of Chris. Strong, warm hands press into Christopher's shoulders and Buck makes him meet wide blue eyes, filled with concern and a hint of fear. "Hey, hey, hey. Take a deep breath bud." Buck tells him, but he can't. He can't. All the air is being clutched in the tight fist of his earlier words. You chose Buck over me. I'm failing because of you. Buck chose football over us. Every horrible inaccurate accusation Chris threw at his father is lashing back at him, taking away his life. Buck doesn't waver. The grip on Chris's shoulders tightens, "Christopher you need to take deep breath. Just like this." He tells the kid firmly and his broad chest expands with a deep inhale through his nose. Buck holds it for a short three seconds, then slowly releases the breath, making Chris's hair flutter. "Just like that buddy okay?" Christopher gives a weak nod in return. "Alright. Suck all the air you can in through your nose." Buck instructs and Chris tries his best. He contracts the muscles in his aching chest, pulling in as much air as he can into his lungs through nasal cavity. "Thats good kid. Now, hold it for three seconds. Then push it all out of your mouth." Holding the air hurts a little and it seems to just add to pressure that had mounted there in his panic, but its just three seconds. He's hurt a lot worse for much more time. Buck helps with counting to three and when Christopher hears the final second, he blows out all the air in his lungs along with a little of the panic. The gripping ache lessens slightly. The sting of tears begin.

I promise Buck and Eddie are not breaking up, and the Diaz boys are not going back to Texas. Teen anxiety gets the best of us, and Buck is just trying to figure out what Christopher needs/wants. Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure!): @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @lover-of-mine @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @devirnis @buddierights @cal-daisies-and-briars @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @diazsdimples @aroeddiediaz @giddyupbuck @rainbow-nerdss @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @bekkachaos @eddiescowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.4  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.6

p.5

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

mrs. fushiguro

You were deep into cleaning the fridge when the sharp ring of the landline broke the quiet.

Wiping your hands on a nearby dish towel, you approached it cautiously.

Thankfully, calls from your clan had become less and less frequent once they realized you weren’t so forthcoming with their visits. Though the unease they left behind always lingered.

This time, however, the voice on the other end was unfamiliar. 

“Mrs. Fushiguro?” the voice rung out, polite but firm. An unsettling weight rested in your chest.

“Hello?” you replied, a bit wary.

“Hello, I’m calling from Saitama Junior High. We need you to come in regarding Megumi. There’s been an incident.”

And just like that, your heart sank. The words cutting across the receiver, crisp and clear. You thought back to the last time Toji had warned Megumi about fighting, but you didn’t think about again. You held back from jumping to conclusions.

“What happened?” keeping your tone steady despite the unease clawing in your throat. Was he hurt?

“There was an altercation involving Megumi and a few other students,” the administrator sighed into the phone. “He’s unharmed, but we need to discuss the matter in person. Please come as soon as you’re able.”

The line went silent for a moment as you processed the information, your mind already racing through the possibilities. You nodded, as if the person on the other end could see you.

“I’ll be there shortly,”

You hung up, staring at the phone in your hand for a beat longer before setting it down.

You arrived at the school not long after, worry pressing heavily on your chest, though your steps remained brisk. Whatever had happened, you couldn’t afford another situation like the last time. Megumi had been so defensive when Toji had brought it up. You could only hope his mood hadn’t already been completely soured—otherwise, it was shaping up to be a very long day.

At the front desk, the receptionist gave you a questioning stare. Her eyes lingering just a second too long, trailing up and down your form.

“I’m here for Megumi,” your tone polite but firm. You could practically feel her judgment, her unspoken questions about your age and your role in Megumi’s life. Wondering what exactly were you doing here. It stung, but you brushed it off. Whatever. She sighed, motioning for you to follow.

The walk to the office felt longer than it should have, tension growing with each step. When you finally stepped inside, you noticed Megumi was already there. He was seated in a stiff chair, arms crossed, posture leaned back, yet rigid.

His usual scowl was firmly in place. Yet what really drew your attention were the telltale signs of a fight—the bruised knuckles, scrapes, the faint smear of dirt on his cheek. His eyes widened marginally at the sight of you in the doorway. Otherwise, his face remained blank, unreadable.

This was his last year of Junior High. Did he really need to be getting into trouble now?

“Megumi,” you try softly, your voice calm but wrapped with concern. You attempt to gauge his mood, but he wouldn’t look up, his eyes locked on some invisible point on the floor. His brow furrowing all the deeper.

God what a moody kid.

The administrator cleared her throat, breaking your focus as she gestured for you to take a seat. You did so, your gaze shifting briefly between the two of them before settling back on Megumi.

“Thank you for coming…Mrs….Fushiguro?” the administrators gaze locked onto you—words more like a question than any kind of greeting. Another subtle once-over that you didn’t appreciate. “It seems Megumi, here, was involved in a physical altercation with three other students.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you turned to look back at her. “Three?” The word slipped out before you could stop it. A flicker of something—pride? crossed your mind, but you quickly pushed it aside, schooling your expression. Professional. Composed. Respectable.

“Yes, three,” her voice more exasperated by the thought. Her disapproving eyes bore down on Megumi, and something about the way she addressed him rubbed you the wrong way. Irritation prickling under your skin. 'Maternal' instincts, you supposed. Were you being irrational?

“According to a few other students nearby, Megumi intervened when these students were picking on another boy. While his intentions may have been…commendable, violence is not an acceptable response.”

You turned back to Megumi, your voice still gentle but firm. “Is that true?”

He finally looked up and away, his expression cold and unreadable. “Yeah,” his tone bored and matter-of-fact. “They had him cornered, shoving him around. I told them to stop. They didn’t.”

“So? You fought them?” you pressed, searching for confirmation.

“They threw the first punch,” his eyes finally met yours. “I made sure they wouldn’t do it again.”

You sport a frown. Well you suppose it was righteous in a way. Admirable, even. The administrator sighed, her disapproval clear.

“While we understand Megumi’s intentions, we cannot overlook the severity of this incident. The other boys have injuries that required medical attention. As such, Megumi will be suspended for the next week.”

You head swung back at a breakneck speed.

Suspended. For a week?

Was that even fair? Sure, fighting wasn’t the right answer, but you knew Megumi wouldn’t have stepped in without a good reason.

He did what he felt he needed to do. It frustrated you to no end how she painted him as the sole aggressor. You’re looking back and forth between the two, unbelieving. Trying to gauge a reaction similar to yours. But you couldn’t find it.

You opened your mouth to argue, but before the words could form, Megumi gave a small shake of his head, barely perceptible. He could read you so well, already anticipating what you were about to do. He just wanted to leave.

He sat there stiffly, his gaze fixed on the table, his knuckles still bruised and his jaw aching, set in a sort of defiance. You hesitated for a moment, swallowing the retort building in your throat. The situation was frustrating, the punishment not suiting the crime. But what choice did you have here?

You watch Megumi, your expression softening as you stand. You heard tilted to meet his eye. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet. Gentle, but you’ll admit, you strained to get it that way. You were furious.

“Let’s go."

Megumi hated this. Hated the office ladies. Hated the fact that they actually called you. How did they even get the house landline? Embarrassed at you actually showing up. The small looks you got from these nasty two-faced women. He’d never seen you so upset.

But without much fuss, he followed you. His eyes lingering on you, catching the way your shoulders heaved just a little faster with your breathing. He hated that he felt terrible.

The walk home was silent, Megumi keeping a steady pace beside you. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his face as unreadable as ever. Once inside the apartment, you gestured for him to sit at the table.

You cooled yourself off, the walk home helping tremendously. One of you would needed to be cool headed here. And he seemed to tense up by the second. Your eyes glanced at his bruised and bloody knuckles. You took a deep breath, counting slowly. You nodded at the chair, signaling him to sit.

He complied without a word, his eyes flickering briefly to you as you grabbed a first-aid kit and an ice pack from the fridge. Even now you were caring for him. He almost couldn't believe it. You were angry. But you were still here. But then again. It was you.

You sat across from him, gently taking one of his hands to inspect the bruises. His heart hammered at the contact. Though he wasn't entirely sure why.

He had a few cuts scattered across his knuckles, and you frowned at the sight. "Megumi," your voice barely a whisper above the hum of the fridge. Even and clam. "I’m not angry. Not at you."

The silence that followed sat on him, your words the most comforting thing in that moment. Megumi sat there, his hands still resting in yours on the table. You were inspecting them carefully, eyes not meeting his. And he didn’t pull away.

His expression was unreadable as you scanned his face—so crabby, so closed off. Yet you could feel the tension radiating from him—the tightness in his shoulders, the way his gaze flicked toward the door like he was debating whether to run.

He hadn’t expected you to come. Hadn’t expected you to care this much.

He hadn’t wanted you to get involved in the first place. This was just another fight, another mess he’d clean up on his own. That’s how it always went, right? Toji wasn’t here, and no one else ever had been either.

But now you were. You’d sat across from him, tending to his bruises like it mattered. Like he mattered.

“You really didn’t have to come,” Megumi muttered after a moment, his tone sharp but fraying just slightly at the edges. He wasn’t trying to be mean—it was just what he was thinking. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”

You eyes finally flit up, meeting his gaze with your own. He found his breath catching. The look in your eyes was so soft. “It is a big deal, Megumi, you’re a kid. You shouldn’t have to handle this kind of thing on your own.”

His jaw tightened as though your words had struck a nerve. He didn’t want to get mad, but there was that word again. “I’m not a kid, I can handle it. I have been handling it.”

His words weren’t just defensive—they were determined. There was a flicker of desperation in his tone, as if he needed you to believe the truth he was trying so hard to convey.

Of all the people he didn’t want to see him as a child, you were at the very top of the list. The thought of you viewing him as small, fragile, or in need of constant care was—in this moment—unbearable.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it started to matter, but somewhere along the way, he’d come to realize just how much your opinion meant to him. His thoughts were conflicting. Wanting your affection. Not wanting you to view him as weak. Not wanting you to see him as a burden. Not wanting you to leave.

That realization left him uncomfortably self-conscious, turning every interaction into a mental minefield. He hated how it made him second-guess himself, how it tied his tongue and made him overthink even the smallest gestures.

Caring about what someone thought of him was unfamiliar territory, and it unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. He told himself he couldn’t grow attached, couldn’t fully trust you—not yet. You could leave at any second. And yet, despite all that, he couldn’t deny how much you really meant to him.

“Maybe you have,” you admitted gently, leaning forward. “But you don’t have to anymore. You’ve got me now.”

There was something unreadable in his eyes—something caught between distrust and apprehension. “For now,” he said flatly, forcing his tone to remain detached. Your hands still holding—inspecting one oh his own. “But you’ll leave too. Just like everyone else.”

The resigned way he said them, like he’d already made peace with the idea. You thought about the clan calls, the way they’d been pestering you for months, interrogating you for information. Megumi wasn’t stupid. But how did he perceive it all? What had he overheard?

His eyes flicked away, his voice quieter now, tinged with bitterness. “You’re probably just waiting for the right time to leave.”

Your breath hitched at the accusation. “Megumi, that’s not—”

"Look, you don’t have to lie about it," his tone sharper, refusing his gaze to meet yours. Voice, low but carried an edge of bitterness. "I know they’ve been calling you. I know they must be wanting you back. You must have friends back home. You’re probably sick of us. The fights. The arguing. Of me,"

His voice dipped at his last words, a defeated look flashing his face. "You don’t have to explain. Just… don’t pretend."

The weight of his words hit you square in the chest, heavier than you could have anticipated.

How he got that idea in his head, you'll never know. For all he knows, this is a solid marriage. Arranged-yes. But something that was established. What lead him to think they'd pull you back so easily? Maybe he's thinking you'll divorce Toji if things got to be too much? Surely not that you missed your clan estate?

You leaned forward instinctively, gently gripping his hands in yours.

"I’m not leaving," you said firmly, gripping his hand tighter, willing him to understand. Sincerity staining your very being. "This is my home now. You’re my family now."

And yet, even as the words left your lips, a quiet, unwelcome voice in the back of your mind whispered the truth you didn’t want to acknowledge. You couldn’t fully guarantee it.

If your clan wanted to, they could come for you. You aren’t certain you could stop them. You pushed it aside, focusing on him. Focused on calming him down. It was a bridge that didn’t need to be crossed yet.

His eyes snapped back to yours, sharp and searching, and you could practically see his defenses cracking for a moment. For the first time, you saw something raw in his expression, something aside from his typical ire—surprise, a flicker of hope, and something deeper, something unspoken. Vulnerability.

He didn’t say anything, but his grip on your hands tightened back, as if he were trying to hold onto your words, to hold onto you.

"I’m not going anywhere," Deep down, you knew it was a fragile—nearly impossible—promise, but you clung to it, as if saying it enough times could make it true.

"You’re stuck with me, okay?"

Megumi visibly swallowed, his gaze dropped to your hands still holding his. No—he wouldn’t pull away. You could see the wariness in his eyes, the weight of his doubts.

He wanted to believe you—needed to—but something in him held back. Probably the years of negligence from Toji. The years lacking a mother. The years alone. He fought with his thoughts for a moment. His expressed was guarded.

He really, really wanted to believe you. Really really wanted to believe you cared.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet and hesitant, almost like he was afraid of your answer.

"Why?" His voice cracking under the weight it carried.

"Why would you want to stay here? With him? With me?"

The way he said it—like he couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose this life, choose him—made your throat tighten.

You try. Try to find the right words. Words that might ease the storm in his eyes. Try to put your conviction into your body language. Your mind flashed back to your mother's words again before you shut your mind off.

You think about how his life must’ve been before this moment. How he also may not have had anyone to lean on. What a lonely existence.

“Because I care about you, Megumi. I’m not going to walk away just because things get hard. I won’t be chased away that easily.”

You felt as his fists unclenched, ever so slightly, his fingers beginning to loosen. The tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction, a small but significant shift. You could feel it—maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to truly understand your words. Beginning to believe you. Beginning to trust you.

But Megumi was struggling, the weight of his doubts and fears etched into every microexpression on his face. Your chest tightened at the sight of it, at the silent war he seemed to fight with himself.

You didn’t want him to feel this way—before you could stop yourself, you let go of his hands and leaned forward, pulling him into a hug.

The movement was instinctive and you felt him go stiff immediately, his entire body rigid. You were sure if you saw his face, he’d be surprised.

“W-what are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled against your shoulder. There was an edge to his voice, defensive, but wavering.

“Hugging you,”your grip on him tightening. “You seemed like you needed it.”

For a long, tense moment, he didn’t move, his arms hovering awkwardly at his sides. The seconds dragged on, and you wondered if you’d misstepped, if you’d pushed too far. But then, slowly, he relaxed—just a little. The rigidity in his posture eased, and you felt his breathing slow, though it was still uneven.

He still didn’t hug you back, but his head tilted slightly against your shoulder, like he was trying to make sense of the moment, trying to figure out just how this worked.

It dawned on you that he might not have been hugged like this before. Were you making him uncomfortable? Man you weren't good at this.

When you finally let go and pulled back, Megumi’s face was flushed with an emotion that he couldn’t quite mask—a mix of surprise, vulnerability, and something you couldn’t name. This experience was drawing more emotion from him than you’d witnessed in the entire past year. You couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out, soft and genuine, catching even you by surprise.

His heart gave an uncomfortable thud, and he glanced away quickly, scowling. “You’re…weird,” he muttered, the sharpness blunted by a thread of undeniable fondness he couldn’t hide.

His cheeks were warmer than they should have been, and he shifted in his chair uncomfortably, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

No matter how hard he tried to brush it off, he couldn’t ignore the warmth your words and actions left behind—or the growing admiration that stirred every time he looked at you.

You laughed again, and before you could stop yourself, you reached over to ruffle his hair, earning a grumbled protest and a half-hearted swat at your hand.

“Get used to it,” your tone light, affection dripping into each syllable. “You’re part of my family now, so you’re stuck with me.”

It wasn’t the first time Megumi had noticed the way your warmth reached him, breaking past walls he’d carefully constructed. But this time, it left him feeling…different. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression still guarded but undeniably softer.

“Fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms in a weak attempt to appear unaffected. Yet there was no real bite in his tone, and you didn’t miss the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

From that day forward, you became Megumi’s most cherished person.

Something shifted within him—his dynamic with you no longer felt so simple. There was an urge he couldn’t fully understand, something instinctual and…new.

It wasn’t just admiration or gratitude—it ran deeper. It was a fierce need to shield your kindness from the world, to ensure that nothing dimmed the warmth you brought into his life. To keep it to himself. And it only grew the longer he stayed next to you. He would ensure your happiness even if it killed him. 

He wanted to be the one you leaned on, the one who supported you when you needed it most. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, but it settled into him like a seed, quietly growing. Natural.

He’d never felt this way before about anyone, and though he couldn’t name it, he couldn’t deny it either. You mattered to him in a way he hadn’t expected, and that realization changed everything. 

What you hadn’t expected was how quickly your relationship with Megumi began to improve. He was still the same stoic, sharp-tongued teenager. Only now, he lingered. Far more than before.

He stayed close while you cooked, followed you from room to room as you cleaned. Offered small, almost shy gestures of help around the house—dusting an area you hadn’t gotten to or cooking a side dish.

Instead of retreating to his room, hed spend his free time sitting beside you on the couch, listening quietly as you talked about your day or read aloud. You’d watch your favorite shows and he’d grumble about how stupid a particular character was.

All while feigning nonchalance. Acting as if it didn’t matter—as if it were the most natural thing he could be doing. But you caught the subtle ways he betrayed himself—the way his eyes tracked your every move or how he absorbed your words like gospel. Never ignoring.

Then came the day he surprised you completely.

You were in the kitchen, humming softly as you prepared dinner. The familiar rhythm of cooking easing your thoughts. Megumi had come home from school and wandered in like he often did, standing quietly at your side.

You’d asked him about his day, mentioning with a hint of pride that you’d made a new dish for the night. Something you’d found in an add. He mumbled something about a school project as you handed him his plate, but he hesitated. You watched his curiously as his fingers curling slightly around the edges of his plate.

“Thanks, Mom,” so casually, it almost felt intentional—then you saw the faint flush creeping up his cheeks.

You hadn’t processed his words, but the second you did you paused. The spoon in your hand hovering over the pot as your brain scrambled to process what you’d just heard. The word echoed in your mind, sweet and unexpected, warming you to your core.

“What… did you just call me?” you asked softly, disbelief coloring your tone. Your heart was already swelling, and you knew you’d remember this moment forever, no matter what he said next.

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I said thanks,” quieter now. Almost embarrassed to have said it.

You couldn’t stop the smile that came across your face. You wanted to tease him a little, but you couldn’t keep the happiness out of your voice. “You called me Mom,”

Megumi had never shown such blatant affection before. This was definitely surprising and you sure as hell weren’t about to complain about it. Sure—you were only about five years older than him. But you also knew this meant he was accepting you. Accepting your place in his life. In his family.

On Megumi’s end, the moment was less than heartwarming. More practical than anything. He knew saying these words would undoubtedly make you happy, but it wasn’t entirely selfless.

A small part of him—a part he hated to acknowledge—still worried you might leave. That you’d vanish like everyone else had in his life. The thought chewed away at him, situated in a deep corner in his mind. He hated how much it mattered to him, hated the vulnerability it exposed. And this… this was his way of anchoring you. Of keeping you close.

If calling you "Mom" made you happy, if it gave you a reason to stay just a little longer—he’d swallow his pride and play his hand. Sure you said you wouldn’t leave, but what about several years from now? He’d do anything if it kept you close to him.

“…Yeah,” he admitted at last, with a thinly veiled shyness. He leaned into the discomfort, knowing it would tug at your heartstrings. He'd always hated seeming pitiful. But...His gaze dropped to the floor, his posture stiff, every movement carefully measured to sell the vulnerability. “I mean… you kind of are.”

And oh did you cling onto that. He knew it’d work. You pulled him into a hug, gushing at how adorable he was. And how you were so happy that he trusted you so much. Stay, his tone seemed to say. Don’t leave me. He was so fucking pitiful. But it really really helped.

“That means a lot to me, Megumi,” pure affection. “Really.”

He glanced up at you, and could see himself reflected in your eyes. You were all he needed. And he hoped it would be the same for you.

From that moment on, everything shifted between you. Megumi called you "Mom" sparingly at first, as if he were still testing the waters. He never used it in front of Toji or anyone else, keeping it just between the two of you. And every time he said it, it warmed you to your core, a quiet word of affection slipped between the two of you.

Megumi would start bringing you small gifts—things he thought you’d like or need. A new dishcloth, your favorite snack, a trinket he’d found at the store. He even offered to cook meals for the both of you, saying you needed a break. It wasn’t just about helping around the house anymore—he wanted to contribute, to make things easier for you in his own way. In any way really.

Megumi asked you often if you needed anything. He looked ready to bring home the Eiffel Tower if you so asked him. It made you tease him a little more, but he took it in strides. Loving the fact that you felt so close with him to joke.

Megumi also grew more comfortable with physical affection. Something that once seemed completely foreign to him. It started small—a brush of his fingers when handing you something, a light touch on your arm in passing.

But over time, his gestures grew bolder. He began to seek you out when you were busy, quietly wrapping his arms around your waist from behind in a wordless hug.

He reminded you of a cat in the way he moved—subtle yet deliberate, always seeking your warmth in quiet, understated ways. It amazed you how open he was being, but it didn’t take long to realize this was his way of showing trust, of finding comfort in your presence. And considering his more restricted childhood—you wouldn’t refuse.

It was endearing how often he sought you out—draping his head in your lap while you watched TV, holding your hand in crowded places with a firm, almost protective grip, or following you from room to room like he couldn’t stand to be apart. Though you’d never say it aloud, he was almost unbearably clingy, and it made your heart ache in the best way. 

But as sweet as it was, something was shifting in your dynamic, and you couldn’t quite narrow down why.

p.6?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

come home

[harmyself]

i thought i was an adult now, but i feel like i haven’t grown up at all. i still have all this teenage angst and sadness inside of me, i still have so many experiencies i didn’t get to enjoy when i was a teen bc of my mental health, and now people expect me to become a full functioning adult outta nowhere. i haven’t healed anything that was wrong with me then and it’s just getting worse but now i’m used to it and people don’t take my mental health issues seriously bc i’m an aDuLt now. i feel so grown up and yet like a scared child.

[thenerdyalien]

My new merthur fic just dropped! This one has been on my drafts for a LONG time, but I think I like how it turned out. Hope you enjoy! <3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Merlin/Arthur, Morgana & Arthur Pendragon Aditional tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Arthur Pendragon Knows About Merlin's Magic, Merlin's Magic Loves Arthur Pendragon, Domestic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Age Regression/De-Aging, Teen Angst, Sassy Merlin, Insecure Arthur Pendragon, Pining Arthur Pendragon, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, but not really cause they already are they're just realising it now

Summary:

When Arthur said he wished to feel like a young prince again this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but alas Merlin’s magic seemed to have a mind of its own.

Or: Merlin's magic accidentally turns them both into helpless pining teenagers with a lot of childhood trauma and unresolved tension. Featuring: mutual pining, pendragon family trauma and heavy amounts of teenage angst on Arthur's part.

[shamrockqueen]

Father figure : Chapter 2

Pairing : Best Friend’s Dad Bucky x Reader

Warnings : Angst, Bad friends, Older man younger woman Dynamic, (age references removed and reader is recounting it as an adult)

Word count : 2167

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 link

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Things stayed quiet, but at least they kind of got better. It had been a week or two since you’d welcomed Becky and her family back into your life.

A pounding at your window around 12pm woke you from an already uncomfortable sleep. You looked over at the drawn curtains, waiting for the sound again.

A *Knock knock knock* at the window of your ground-floor bedroom.

You pushed out of bed, readjusting your messy t-shirt and shorts as you groggily walked to the curtains. You weren’t surprised to see Becky on the other side of the glass, her dark hair nearly blending in with the night.

She didn’t look very happy, and her frustration was even more evident when she tried to jerk open the locked window. It wasn’t a new sight to see an angry Becky trying to force her way into your room, a popular choice of hers for when she had been out doing something she shouldn’t have and needed a place to hide before absconding by midnight.

"Open up!" You could hear her through the glass before you finally unlocked the window and pulled it up, and she immediately crawled past you.

"You can’t be yelling this late at night; you're gonna to wake my mom up."

"Whatever!" She stomped towards your bed before throwing herself onto it and grappling at one of your teddy bears.

You have a huff before shutting the window and locking it again.

"What’s wrong?" You slumped back onto the other side of the bed as you tried to find what made her mad this time.

"It doesn’t fuckin matter." A classic Becky move, but you’d played this game before, and with enough prying, you’d get her to talk instead of sulking into one of your old teddy bears.

"Clearly it mattered to you because you were here at almost 1 in the morning instead of asleep."

"Shut up!" She turned and tossed the bear at you, clearly choosing to act more like a child than her actual age.

"Keep your voice down. You wake my mom up, and she’s gonna kick you out again." You seethed before throwing the stuffed animal back at her, only to miss and hit the wall beside the bed.

Becky dropped her arms from above her head to her sides, hitting the bed with a thump. "Everything’s just so stupid; it fucking sucks." She grumbled, but at least she made an effort to keep her voice down.

"What happened?" You ask tiredly, rubbing your eyes as you wait for an answer.

"I called my mom today." She answered meekly. Conversations with her mom often brought out the worst in her, making it unsurprising that she’d snuck out to blow off steam.

"What’d she say?" You asked worriedly, not waking to try to break the already weak foundation that Becky stood on.

"She said I couldn’t visit her this summer. She said that she and STUPID Mason and their STUPID kids already planned their vacation, and that she can’t just change her plans at the drop of a hat because I want her to."

You just laid beside her, silent in the dark, as a sob cut through the air, and you turned to see streaks of tears training down her face. Becky had such a complicated relationship with her mom, especially when she often thought she had to compete with a new family.

"Why do you want to visit her anyway? You hate the twins, and you hate your stepdad." You say this quietly as you sit up to look at your friend. "Every time you visit, you call me to tell me how snotty they are and how crappy they treat you."

He huffed a small laugh before answering, "I know, but…it’s just that she doesn’t call anymore. She doesn’t visit. She doesn't care." She hugged the pillow as her voice grew weaker.

"That can’t be true; all moms have to care at least a little. I mean, you're her kid; she can’t just forget about you." You always tried to reassure her, but her face just continued to fall.

"It feels like she’s trying to."

"You still have your dad." Your words rang in your ears just as you said them. The memory of that night is still heavy in your mind. Just the way his psyche must have shattered to propel him to do what he did made you shudder a little.

"There’s something wrong with him." Every word added a little more weight to your heavy heart as she spoke. You feared how much she really knew and who she would be mad at the most.

"What do you mean?" You didn’t turn to look at her as you spoke, not wanting her to catch a glimpse of guilt in your eyes, even in the dark.

"He’s just been acting really off lately, like…he won’t talk to me, and it just feels like he’s trying to avoid me now. Ever since that party, he’s just shut off."

You could feel your stomach knowing together as she spoke. You have a very good idea why he’s acting so uncomfortably, but it’s not something you could tell her.

"He just doesn’t want to see you get like that. I mean, he is your dad; stuff like that is going to upset him."

"It’s not the same. He’s never been this upset before. It’s like he’s shut down or something." Her eyes start to tear up as she continues, "Maybe this time I finally made him snap."

"No way. It just has to be a lot of stress on him."

"I don’t know. Something’s just wrong."

The crack in your nerves deepened painfully as she spoke. You knew very well what was wrong and why. Something was wrong, very wrong, and there was nothing you could do to fix it now. You just stared out at the ceiling, waiting for her to talk again.

Instead, she seemed to nod off before you found the ability to even find sleep. No, you were still so shaken by the new knowledge you had found that you lay there motionless instead.

A small light lit up beside you. A notification beaming out into your room from where Becky’s phone sat on your charger.

You leaned out of bed as your eyes adjusted to the new source of light to see Mr. Barnes’ picture blink across the screen as the silent call fell to Becky’s voicemail.

You look back at her and then back at the phone, just tapping the screen to see the number of messages her father left her.

She sneaks out a lot, but she more than often ends up sleeping off her night on your bedroom floor. This gave Mr. Barnes at least some peace of mind not to go running out into the night for his daughter, but he was still her father and had desperately tried reaching out to Becky.

The first few times Becky had snuck out, it had caused a lot of trouble, and he’d come speeding through the neighborhood trying to find her.

Now, he could easily drive by and spot her bike propped up against your mailbox, giving him some peace of mind to at least know she was somewhere safe.

You let her phone screen fade before letting your eyes readjust to the dark to find your phone next to hers. You unlock it and tap on your contacts icon to dig up her father’s number.

His contact photo lights up the screen. A happy photo from when he’d taken you and Becky out to see Jurassic Park. An undone blue button-up, a white tank top, and a pair of shades making him seem so much more striking than he was before. Even the loose bun that held together his once shoulder-length hair brought new definition to his smiling face; it made it seem like more and more of a shame that he’d since cut it short.

Shaking the thought away, you tuck your phone to your side before looking back at the still-sleeping Becky and slipping out of bed and snuck towards the door. Becky still snored on the other side of the room as you ducked into the hall and towards the bathroom.

The hallway is just as dark and more eerily quiet as you looked over at your mother’s room, which sat only a few feet in the other direction. You let your eyes fall on to the lightly colored wood, turned to a gray hue under the heavy blanket at night.

You quietly and carefully cross through to the bathroom before letting yourself lean onto the sink to take a quick and nervous breath. You pulled your phone from where you kept it clasped to your chest and tapped in your password to open it again. His picture lights up the screen once again before your thumb slides over the call button.

You held it to your ear as it rang for a spell. Each extra ring made your heart beat just a little slower as you waited for him to pick up the phone.

When the voicemail popped up, a heavy breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto escaped past your lips, and your heart sank into your stomach.

You ended the call without leaving a message, and you just leaned there before sitting back heavily onto the shaggy cloth toilet seat cover.

You took a few seconds before opening the phone back up and clicking the call button again.

The phone rang once, then twice…then it stopped abruptly, replaced by the sound of the other line being handled before a familiar voice filled the phone.

"Hey. Sorry, I uh…missed your call." You heard him take a deep breath before continuing with, "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I just wanted to let you know Becky’s here. She’s still asleep right now." You spoke in a whisper, making sure not to wake up anyone in the house.

"Oh, thank God. How long has she been there?"

"I think she came straight over. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner."

"No, it's fine. Thank you for letting me know." His voice didn’t seem fully relieved before he continued with, "D-did she tell you why she left?"

It was a question he hadn’t asked you before. He’d long since lost hope in understanding his daughter's misbehavior, but something in his voice seemed more fearful than before.

"I…um…just some drama with her mom, and…she." You almost couldn’t get the last few words out, as they choked up in your throat.

You stared at the tiled floor beneath your feet before finally finishing your sentence. "And she said that something seemed off. That you didn’t seem like yourself, I guess."

You could hear him swallow over the phone, taking a deep breath afterward before leaving an air of silence over the call.

"I am so sorry." He spoke so quietly that it almost couldn’t be heard over the phone. His voice was broken; it was so painful to hear it.

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Your throat seemed to just close up as your fingers tightened around the phone until it shook a little in your hand.

"I…I can try to get her home after school tomorrow, Mr. Barnes." It’s all you could think to say. Anything to avoid discussing what had happened, how it had made you feel, and what the consequences would be.

"That would be a great help, but I can take care of it. Thank you." There was still something off with his voice, like a deep crack forming on what was once unbreakable glass. "Just make sure she gets to school, alright?"

"Yes sir."

"Thank you; now just get some sleep, ok sweetheart?"

The term of endearment made your heavy heart flutter for a single second before you answered, "Okay, goodnight, sir." And the call ended with a quick click.

You hold your phone back to your chest as you take a shallow breath, remembering all that had transpired between you and Mr. Barnes. The memory still made you feel an odd but warm sensation along your body, as well as a deep ache at the thought of the same memory causing him misfortune.

A knock at the bathroom door startled you. Making you jump back and hit the tiled wall with the back of your head.

You panic and flush the empty toilet beside you, trying to create an alibi and not wanting either person in the house to know about your phone call.

You quickly tuck your phone into your shorts pocket, switch on the sink, and start washing your hands.

"Hurry up." Becky’s voice through the door made the terrible feeling in your stomach curdle even further.

Finally, you open the door to Becky’s tired face before she pushes past you with a grunted "gotta pee."

You speedily walk back to the bedroom as the bathroom door clicks shut behind her.

Chapter 3

[angelofalls]

When in doubt (tryna get my groove going), I draw some random lions.