#Nor do I know why ones so much more faded

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 18: Tomorrow

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 17

Present Day, May 1987

Julie sits down at her lunch table, unpacking her lunch and picking at the bread of her sandwich. Wondering if today is the day where she can eat all of it. Instead of just taking a few bites and throwing the rest out. Preferring to pick at the other snacks in her lunch than eat something in whole.

Hoping that she can just start acting normally again instead of really fucking weird. That when El asks her a question, she can respond without stuttering. Without reacting. That her cheeks will remain unflushed when El inevitably gives her a compliment. Her hand will stop fidgeting while she sits there, waiting for something to happen. Act nonchalant. Like nothing is wrong.

Even though a lot is. Her mind battles each day with thoughts that she doesn’t want to have. She didn’t ask for this feeling to come. Nor did she want it. But it’s here and she can’t’ seem to get rid of it. No matter how hard she tried. And she tried.

She tried doing something every time she thought of El. Something monotonous, something she hates. Like doing the dishes or taking out the garbage. To make some association in her mind that would make the crush more unfavorable than it already is.

She tried avoiding being alone with El. Only hanging out with other people around so Julie could fade into the background. There would be other things to focus on then. Things to distract from the thoughts that gave her butterflies.

She tried just ignoring it. Every time Julie thought of El, she pushed it down in the depths of her mind and tied it up. Trying to get it out of the way, hoping to leave it there to rot. But without fail, it managed to return a million times worse than it had been before.

The thing was, no matter what, it never worked. Doing the monotonous tasks only left space in Julie’s brain to wander. Think of something funny El said that made her laugh. No matter what, El made sure Julie didn’t fade into the background. Always pulling Julie to sit next to her, engaging in conversation. Falling behind with Julie when she was trailing behind the group. And ignoring it just flat out didn’t work.

It's a crazy thing. Now that’s it’s happening, Julie can say that she’s never had a crush like this one before. One where the laughter sticks in her mind so much that she tries her best to draw it out. Where the smiles shine a bit brighter than they did before, and the most miniscule of touches ignites her heart. Makes the blood rush to her cheeks and forces Julie to curl into herself. Turn away.

No one can know that this is happening. No one can know that Julie is like this. She doesn’t want to be ostracized from the only friend group she’s ever had.

Not that she thinks they would care that she likes girls. She actually knows that they would be ok with it. With half of them already asking her when Steve and Eddie are going to finally admit that they are dating, to Will coming out as gay a few weeks ago, it would be positive. What’s different is this crush on El. She doesn’t know how they would react to that. How El would react to that.

The thing about her place in this friend group is that it’s not cemented like the rest of them. They all have some sort of bond that Julie doesn’t understand. Probably will never understand. Something that connects them beyond years of friendship. Something deeper.

It’s probably connected to when Will went missing a few years ago, or to the mall fire that they were all present for. Or something completely different that makes Steve scream out in the middle of the night. Makes Robin’s or Eddie’s, sometimes even one of the kids’, voices shake when they call in the middle of the night, begging for Steve to answer. Something Julie’s grateful that she didn’t have to witness but wonder what it really was.

What was the bed thing that El couldn’t tell her that night? Why was it so bad that she’s better off not knowing? And how did these kids become so unfortunate to witness it all?

“Your hair looks nice today, Julie,” El compliments as she sits down.

She’s wrong. Julie’s hair is pulled back in a French braid, hoping that it hides the fact that she hasn’t washed it in days. The same things she’s been doing for the past few weeks. Still, her head ducks to hide the red of her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she mutters. Taking a bite of her sandwich to stop herself from talking more.

The rest of the group sits around them. Dustin sits next to Julie, probably to bug her about the next book he’s forcing her to read. Well, not forcing. They apparently have very similar reading tastes. But she’s not really listening. Stuck in some form of trance. Feeling weird about herself and staring.

It just happens to be at the person sitting across from her. That’s what she tells herself. It's not because of everything else. Definitely not because El’s outfit is really cute, and Julie wants to say something about it but is afraid that it will come off weird. Complimenting a friend is something completely natural. Normal even. But there’s a line she’s afraid of accidentally crossing. So afraid to do anything that would make El suspect that her feelings have changed.

Afraid that anyone will find out that her feelings have changed. She can’t have that happen.

“Julie,” El’s voice breaks her trance. “Can you come?”

Julie blinks, forcing her head to meet El’s eyes. “Sorry?”

“We were going to have a movie night at Max’s house tonight, can you come?”

She swallows the rejection that forms on her tongue. “Uh, sure. Are we going right after school?”

“Yeah,” Max adds. Giving Julie an interesting face. Like she can tell that something’s off with Julie. Hear the uncertainty that runs through her voice. “Some of us already have rides if you need one.”

Julie feels her body stiffening, trying to act normal. This is anything but normal. “Uh, yeah, I would. I biked here today.”

The bell rings, saving her from any other awkward interactions. She gets up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and rushing out the door. Throwing away the mostly untouched lunch on her way out.

There’s a tap on her shoulder before she makes it too far. Dustin giving her a look like he’s trying to read whatever’s going on in her head. “Are you ok, you seem off?”

Julie nods, not selling anything. “Yep, totally ok. That's for checking in.”

She turns on her heel and rushes down the hallway to her next class before he can get in another question.

. . .

Steve gets home before Julie. Heats himself up some leftovers for dinner and settles on their new couch in front of the TV. Relaxes after a long day of meetings and telling customers that no, he can’t wave the late fee just because they don’t want to pay it. Telling them very sternly that they could at least rewind the tape if they don’t want to return it on time.

It’s the only reason he’s back so late. He let Robin go home and leave him to finish up the afternoon shift. Helping out the next person working by taking all of the unwound tapes into his office to rewind in there while filling out some paperwork he’s been avoiding. Telling himself that it’ll all be worth it once he gets his paycheck.

When Julie gets home, she drops her backpack on the living room floor, dramatically falling onto the couch with a groan. He snorts, trying to hide it. But honestly, seeing her act more like herself is a relief compared to a few weeks ago.

“It’s not funny,” Julie protests, sitting up. “It is far from funny.”

“You’re right,” Steve says, trying to hold in his laugh. “Long day?”

Julie glares at him. “Yeah, long day. I can barely act right around El and now Dustin has picked up that I’m acting weird and keeps asking me if I’m ok. Which I’m not, but he doesn’t need to know that. And it’s all just,” she makes and explosive gesture in front of her, leaning back into the couch.

“Good luck, he’s not one to let things go.”

“I know. It’s basically a daily thing now asking if you and Eddie are together. Which I had promised to tell him if I knew something was going on. And now I do but it’s not my business to tell him.”

Steve thanks her for that. Not quite sure how and when he’s eventually going to tell the rest of the group about him and Eddie. He promised that as soon as the court case was over, he would. But as that date keeps slowly creeping up on him, he doesn’t know if he’ll be ready for that.

The thing was, once everyone knew about it, it wouldn’t be just his and Eddie’s relationship anymore. There would be the jokes and the talking. The reactions of how everyone thinks about it. Support and surprise. Maybe some disdain. He’s not sure.

Steve has been weird about relationships for a long time. With every relationship, it would spread like wildfire through the high school hallways. Whispers of his night life following him as he walked. At first, he liked it. Wanted the reputation to spread, wore it like the crown that metaphorically rested on his head.

But as he grew up, as his relationships became more intimate. More sacred. He didn’t like the rumors anymore. Sure, he wasn’t one to shy away from PDA. Loved to wear his heart out on his sleeve, show everyone how much a person meant to him.

It was different, though, keeping a relationship a secret. Made it more special in a way he’s never experienced before. With the way this town would react to his relationship, it would always have to be hidden on some level. Kept between their small group of people.

It’s been so long since he’s been in a semi-public relationship. He doesn’t quite know how to go about it anymore.

“Talk to him about that book he lent you, that’ll shut him up for an hour or two.”

Julie sighs. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that.”

“I have nothing else to help here, good luck.”

“It’s not like it’s all that bad. It’s kinda nice to know that he cares enough to check in, make sure everything’s ok. I just wish he knew how to give me some space until I’m ready to talk about it.”

Steve hums. “Yeah, never quite got around to teaching him that.”

He lets the silence fill the room before changing topics. “So, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. And I know you already have a lot to think about, but I want you to just start thinking about this. You don’t have to give me an answer right away.”

“Ok,” she says concerned.

“I’ve been talking with Sarah over the last couple of weeks, discussing what the next steps could be if you wanted to move forward with this. But I haven’t really filed for anything yet because I wanted to ask you first.” He takes a deep breath. Nervous for some reason he doesn’t really know. “Would you, maybe, want me to try and get permanent guardianship of you?”

“Yes,” Julie answers without missing a beat. “I would very much want that.”

Steve’s not sure why he thought she would answer any differently. “Ok, good. I would want that too.”

She smiles. “Good. What would that all mean, then?”

“Well, I’d be putting in to be your guardian, officially, until you turn eighteen. Then like everyone else, you’d be an adult and can make your own decision. But it would take going in front of a judge, proving I'm fit to fill that role. Then it would be official.”

Sarah says it would actually be a very smooth and easy process. Since Julie’s much older than most of the kids that go through this, and is already acclimated to living with him, it would be a bad decision not to grant him the guardianship. Plus, with the money that Rebecca left for Julie, she’s pretty much already cared for after high school. Steve just has to worry about getting her through until then.

Which should be fine. Now that he’s finally getting the last of the furniture, the expenses are starting to even out. There’s more money sitting in his account and his savings are starting to grow again. Everything is working out better than he planned them to.

He’s happy in this little house. With Eddie lying next to him on most nights, coming through the door before the sun goes down now that Julie knows. Julie finding her way back to herself after the roll of emotions dies down, becomes less present in her mind. Steve finally letting go of the thoughts that plague his mind, make him think that everything’s going to fall apart the minute he messes up.

And he does, no one’s perfect. But he’s found people that understand that, call him out in a way that’s needed but full of love. Full of understanding.

It’s all that Steve has ever wanted.

“So, you’d be going to court again. For this. I don’t want you to do that if it’s too stressful.”

Steve shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be. Sarah is pretty confident that the judge will look at us for twenty minutes and just sign the papers. And if it’s longer, I don’t care. I want this to happen. I don’t mind, really.”

Julie nods. “Ok, only if you’re sure about it.”

“Believe me, I am.”

. . .

Two weeks later

Steve wakes up on his birthday with Eddie’s face pressed between his shoulder blades. Arms holding his torso in a death grip. He ignores the need to get up to sit in it a while longer. The clatter of a familiar metal bowl hitting the kitchen floor breaking all hopes of staying in bed any longer.

He pries Eddie’s arms off of him, leaving him still asleep on the bed. Wandering into the hallway, he makes a stop in the bathroom before seeing what’s going on in the kitchen. Finding Julie squinting at a cookbook with a pile of ingredients on the counter.

She jumps when Steve clears his throat. “Sorry, did I wake you?” Julie tries to move in front of the counter, doing a poor job of hiding what’s behind her.

“No, I was already awake. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” She avoids eyes contact. “Why don’t you just go back to bed.”

Steve continues walking into the kitchen, watching as Julie shifts to hide the stuff behind her. He swiftly reaches behind her to grab the book, seeing it open to a pancake recipe. Julie makes a sound of protest as she tries to grab the book back.

“You’re making pancakes,” Steve says with a surprised smile. “That’s what you were trying to hide, you can make breakfast anytime you want.”

“Yeah,” Julie says, defeated. “Thought it would be nice for you to not have to make breakfast on your birthday.”

“Yeah, that would be kind of nice.” He hands the book back to Julie. “Call me if you want help.”

“I’m not completely helpless in the kitchen.” Julie rolls her eyes. “Happy birthday,” she calls down the hall as he walks away.

Steve returns to his bed. Eddie blearily pulling him close before falling asleep again. He somehow falls into a light sleep. Getting up when he hears the dishes clanking in the kitchen, each one thudding on their new table.

He shakes Eddie awake, watching as he fights to keep his eyes closed. Face squishing up in protest, rolling away from Steve and gripping the blankets close to his chest.

“Come on, Julie made breakfast.”

Eddie doesn’t move, faking snoring.

“You don’t snore like that.” Steve sighs, getting out of bed. “I’ll save you some.”

He walks back out of the kitchen, watching as Julie sets a plate piled with pancakes on the table. Finishing with pouring some coffee into mugs and pacing them at each spot.

“It looks good,” he says, startling her.

“Jesus Christ, a little warning would have been nice.”

Steve laughs, sitting down. “Sorry.”

“They’re a little lumpy,” Julie explains while sitting down. “And some might be a little burnt, but they’re good.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Steve assures, stabbing some with his fork.

Julie does the same, topping them with some maple syrup. “Is Eddie still asleep?”

It’s nice to talk about him with someone else. Act like they are a couple in his own house. Not having to keep them so secret anymore. “He’s pretending to be.”

Halfway through breakfast, Eddie finds his way to the table. Hair tangled and frizzy. He stops them from trying to talk to him until he finishes his first cup of coffee.

After breakfast, Julie insists on doing the dishes herself, almost having to push Steve out of the kitchen. But he lets her, goes to get changed so he’s not hovering around the kitchen. Eddie comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“Happy birthday. Now we both can buy alcohol legally.”

Steve laughs. “That’s the first thing that you think of.”

“That’s the first thing everyone thinks of when you turn twenty-one. Not just me.”

“Sure.” Steve turns around to give Eddie a kiss. “Thank you.”

“How about we go see a movie, do something just the two of us.” Eddie releases Steve to rummage around in the dresser to find something to wear. Pointedly avoiding his own drawer to find one of the shirts that Steve had stolen. Stealing it back.

Steve pulls a polo over his head. “Is that because you want to, or because Robin told you to get me out of the house so she can throw a not-so-secret surprise party.”

“I was definitely not told to keep you far from the premises between the hours of two and five o’clock. But I could just want to spend time with you. Is that such a crime?” Eddie walks over to Steve and presses something into Steve’s hand.

Steve looks down at the metal chain in his hand. “What’s this?”

“Your birthday present,” Eddie explains, walking over to the dresser to pick up one of his rings. He takes the chain from Steve’s hand and unclasps it, threading it through the ring. “So you can wear this, if you wanted to.”

The ring is the one Eddie wears on his right hand. The silver band and dark stone. “This mean anything?”

Eddie shrugs. “Not really. Just wanted you to wear something of mine that isn’t a piece of clothing that I severely miss.”

“You won’t miss this, you wear is every day?” Still, Steve slips the chain over his head. Letting the ring settle in the middle of his chest.

“I have others, just don’t wear them that much. Plus, now I’ll never lose it because you never lose anything.”

“No, I just never throw things in a corner and expect to find it again.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Seriously though, want to see a movie? Get lunch? Literally anything?”

“Yeah, sure. A movie sounds nice.”

. . .

The house is full of unorganized chaos. Robin is frantically running around trying to make sure everything is perfect. While Dustin and Lucas keep getting into small arguments about who knows what. Max is sitting off to the side either laughing at them or telling them to shut the hell up. Mike is just sitting on the couch, refusing to do anything while Nancy keeps trying to get him involved.  The only people being helpful at all are El and Julie. And even then, they keep getting in their own way or Robin’s way.

It’s a mess. Food is haphazardly placed in the kitchen and across the coffee table. There are streamers all over the floor with only some of them making it to the ceiling. Somewhere, balloons keep popping and the music keeps being changed over and over again.

“Can you two quit changing the station after each song is played, Jesus fucking Christ,” Robin yells in the kitchen. Pouring a bag of chips into a bowl.

“I would if Lucas stopped putting the stupid sports radio on,” Dustin argues.

Lucas groans. “I’m trying to hear the scores. It’s a big game.”

“You and your stupid sports. This is a party we’re planning here.”

“Yeah, badly,” Max comments, crossing her arms.

“You can’t even see how bad it is,” Mike mutters.

Max glares at him. “I’m blind not stupid, idiot.”

“Why don’t we all just take a breath,” Will suggests, trying to calm everyone down.

Lucas changes the station again.

“Would you just-.” Dustin starts to scream. The group getting into an argument.

Julie sighs, starting to pick the streamers off the floor and handing them to El. She sticks them to the wall with an extra piece of tape, making sure they don’t fall again.

“Are we sure Steve even wants this party,” Julie asks. “The only reason I even found out about his birthday was Robin telling me two weeks ago.”

El shrugs, taking another streamer out of Julie’s hands. “I do not know. This is the first time we have ever thrown one for him. I think that is why Robin is so upset.”

“And going slightly insane,” Julie adds. Watching as she rips the radio out from between Dustin and Lucas and places it on top of the cabinets. “Did you guys really not know it was Steve’s birthday?”

“Yeah,” El takes Julie’s hand as she steps down from the chair they were using as a stepladder. “He was secretive about it for a long time. Told Dustin the wrong day and everything. We only knew the real date because Robin stole his driver’s license to find out.”

Julie’s trying to ignore the way that El continues to hold her hand when she doesn’t need it. “Maybe this was all a bad idea.”

“It’s not,” Nancy interrupts. “I told him about it a week ago.”

“What. Why?” Robin complains.

“Cause he hates surprises, and his birthday. And walking into his house looking like a tornado hit it.”

“It’s looking better,” Julie defends.

Nancy tilts her head to the side, looking over to the mess that still sits in the living room. “It could just use some finishing touches, that’s all.”

Finishing touches was setting up all of the food in the kitchen with the exception of a few bowls of chips. It was for the radio to return to the spot in the living room with the promise of it staying on one station and one station only. Nancy glaring at Lucas and Dustin until they agreed. It was Mike getting off his ass and helping straighten up. Until the party looked a little like a party.

Now they were just waiting for Steve to arrive.

“You are wearing your hair down today,” El comments.

Julie wasn’t wearing a French braid or a ponytail today. Her hair actually cooperating with her this morning, not drying in a weird wave pattern. So she wore it down. It probably won’t stay that way much longer, her hair can only get into her face so much before it gets annoying.

“Yeah,” Julie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thought I could do something different today.”

El smiles. “It looks really nice. I wish my hair was as long as yours.”

Julie looks at the short curls that crown El’s head. A colorful hairclip pulling back some of the longer bits right above her ear. “I think your hair’s cute.”

She wills the flush rising to her cheeks to calm down. It wasn’t meant in any certain way, she just felt it was true.

“Thank you, but I am still letting it grow. The longest I have ever had my hair was around here.” El places her hand right below her shoulder, showing how long it was. “I miss that hair.”

“Did something happen that made you cut it?”

The question seemed harmless, but El’s face falls. “Yes.” Is all she says.

Julie ignores the need to ask more. Thankful that the door opens, forcing the mood between them to shift.

Steve stumbles through the front door, Eddie’s hands over his eyes. Waiting for the cue to remove them. When Robin gives him the thumbs up, Eddie removes the hands on Steve’s eyes. The group yelling an out of sync surprise.

The smile that catches Steve’s face is contagious.

“Thanks guys, this looks great.”

“Thank god,” Robin dramatically says. “I was scared you were going to hate it.”

Steve throws his arm over her shoulder. “Yeah well, I did have some warning. And I can say this exceeded my expectations. It takes a lot to wrangle them to help out.”

“Not if you threaten them enough,” Nancy adds.

The party officially starts. The group forming little clumps as people get food and start conversations. Julie ends up on the couch squished on the end of the couch with El next to her.  

It feels different than the hangouts they would have in the other house. Where the rooms separation was finite, and the noise only carried so far. Here, with people in the kitchen spilling out into the living room, the sound filling the walls and probably leaking outside. Everyone feels so close, even if they aren’t directly talking to each other.

The group somehow includes her in all of this. Making a space for her, welcoming her in. It’s breathtaking how it all happened.

“What happened to your ring,” Dustin asks Eddie.

Eddie looks down at his hand, the ring he normally wears gone. He shrugs, saying something along the lines of he lost it. Steve with a smirk on his face, silently asking Eddie something. It goes unnoticed. He's about to do something.

Steve pulls at a chain around his neck, revealing the missing ring from underneath his shirt. “I think I found it,” he smirks.

Eddie widens his eyes, surprised. “I thought we were going to wait until after court?”

Steve shrugs. “Fuck that, this was way more fun.”

Dustin seems frozen, eyes squinted at the chain. Like he has to make sure that the ring is the one he was talking about. Robin and Nancy are not so silently cracking up on the other side of the room. The rest of the kids with varied reactions.

“Fucking finally,” Max says annoyed.

El leans over to whisper to Julie. “So I was right? They are together.”

Julie snorts. “Yeah, they are."

Dustin catches this. “Wait, you knew?”

Julie wants to sink into the couch. “Kinda.”

“You were supposed to tell me about this. We made a pack.”

“We did not.”

Dustin makes an explosive gesture. “Yes, we did. I said I thought something was up, you said you agreed. Then you said you would tell me if you knew anything more. You knew something and didn’t tell me about it. Breaking the pact.”

“That is not a pack, dumbass,” Max butts in. Laughing at this whole situation.

“It really wasn’t,” Julie defends. “And I just got, like, official conformation about this a little while ago. I just didn’t get around to updating you about it.”

Dustin crosses his arms. “How long was a little while ago?”

“Like, three, maybe four weeks ago.” Julie shrugs to try and lessen the impact.

“So a month ago?”

“Yeah kinda.”

Dustin gaps. “How fucking dare you.” He picks up a stray pillow and throws it gently in Julie’s direction. Missing her entirely.

Lucas starts laughing. “You make fun of me all I want for liking sports but at least I can throw a pillow and hit something with it.”

“Don’t you start right now.”

Eddie and Steve start laughing, falling into each other. Looking totally and completely relaxed.

“That went way better than I thought it would,” Eddie wheezes.

“I know right.”

A few hours later, Robin starts to slowly convince the kids to clean up. With Nancy standing behind her making sure they actually listen. It shouldn’t be Steve’s responsibility to clean up his own birthday party.

Julie’s hair keeps falling in her face every time she bends over. She finally goes to tie it back, but the elastic breaks as soon as it stretches.

“Damn it,” she whispers under her breath.

“What?” El asks, wincing when Julie shows her the broken band. “Here,” El reaches into her pockets and pulls out a barrette. Sliding it into Julie’s hair, pining half of it behind her face. “That’s better.”

Julie can feel the heat rising to her face faster than she can try to stop it. Her hand coming up to touch the barrette, it radiating warmth. “Thanks,” she says impossibly soft.

El smiles before walking away to say goodbye to Max. The party slowly dispersing.

“What was that,” Dustin asks, dumping a pile of paper plates in the trash.

Julie sighs. “Can’t you mind your own business for once in your goddamn life?”

“That’s rude. I’m just looking out as a concerned friend. You're the one who’s acting weird whenever El does-.” His face lights with recognition. “Oh my god.”

Fear shoots through Julie’s veins. “No.”

“Yes,” Dustin whispers loudly. “That has to be.”

“It’s not what you think it is.”

Dustin gets a smug look on his face. “Oh, I think it is. You’ve been acting weird for weeks,” He starts to list out points on his fingers, “but only when El is around. Whenever she gets close to you, you either start stuttering or getting cagey. Your face becomes part tomato any time she says something nice or touches you. There's only one explanation.”

Julie tugs his arm away from the group. “Would you quiet down for two seconds.” She pushes him into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“Woah, your room is nice. I haven’t seen it since the move.”

“You cannot try and make this better by changing the subject.”

“So there’s a subject to change?” He crosses his arms proudly. “You like El, don’t you?”

Julie rolls her eyes. “That’s not something you can just ask about like that.”

“But I’m right?”

“Yes, you’re right,” she exclaims, sitting on her bed. “It’s so stupid.”

Very stupid. But true.

“It’s not stupid.” Dustin sits next to her.

“Don’t lie to me just to make me feel better. It’s very stupid.”

Julie reaches up to feel the barrette again. Knowing exactly which one it is. Feeling the bumps that form the small row of multicolored flowers. Replaying the feelings of El carefully gathering the strand of hair that was too stubborn to stay out of her face. Her hand resting just a second longer than it could have. Making sure it was perfect.

“That’s one of El’s favorite barrettes. She wears it all the time,” he comments.

“I know.”

“Do you know why?”

Julie shakes her head.

“El loves wildflowers. It was one of the things she missed most about Hawkins when they lived in California, other than the town and her dad. The other people she left here. And I’m not trying to give you hope or anything, I don’t know what she’s thinking, but she only gives wildflowers to people she really cares about.”

Julie doesn’t even know how she feels about this all the time. Some days, it feels kind of good. Other days, it feels crushing. But still, the idea that El cares about her, on any level, fills her with a warmth that is indescribable. Unmatched. Something Julie’s never felt before.

Something that feels so good that she’s not sure how she ever thought it was a bad thing.

She touches the barrette again. “But it could just mean she cares about me as a friend.”

Dustin shrugs. “Yeah, it could. I’ve seen Max wearing it a few times.” He takes a breath. “But it means that El cares about you, no matter what. Even with this.”

Julie smiles. “Thank you. This has been really hard for me.”

“I’m sorry. I hope it gets better.”

“Yeah, me too.”

When El hugs her goodbye that night, Julie’s able to return it. Part of her satisfied with knowing that she has her as a friend. The other pulls just enough on her heart to make the moment sour. For the want to overshadow the joy enough to make an effect.

But another person knows. Another person accepts it. Didn’t judge her for it. Maybe soon, she’ll be able to stop judging herself for this. Making it worse than it needs to be.

Let the good feeling be the good feeling.

. . .

June 1987

Julie sits in the row right behind the prosecution stand. Eddie and Robin next to her, the rest of the kids and their families filling the rows behind them. Steve talking with his lawyer, getting the final details all in place. All of them waiting for it to start.

And for the defendant to arrive.

The sides of the courtroom were completely uneven. Steve’s side filled with people scattered through the rows. Almost strategically placed to make them seem larger. It wasn’t hard, there wasn’t a soul seated on the other side of the court.

The large doors open, three people filing down the aisle. Taking their place on the defendant’s side. The lawyer pulling out papers from his briefcase. Mrs. Harrington sitting with her eyes glazed over, looking bored. Richard Harrington staring daggers at Steve. Trying to get him to react. Do anything.

All Steve does is continue to talk to his lawyer, pretending like his dad isn’t even there.

This is the first time Julie’s seen her biological father. Having only heard of him, and seen old photographs. The ones that haunted Steve’s old house. Created an unsettling feeling once anyone walked through the door.

Now here he was, glaring, taking it all in. Stalking it like a predator hunting prey. Wanting to find the weakest link just to watch it break.

His eyes find her in the crowd. Staring. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a look back. He doesn’t deserve it.

She wonders if he recognizes her. Sees her mother’s features sewn together with his. The sharpness of her jawbone, the curve of her nose, the brown of her eyes, all from him. Mixed with the dark brown hair from her mom, the similar build, fairness of her skin. Does he see Rebecca in her? Does he hate Julie for reminding him of his past?

It doesn’t matter to her. What matters was the family he left behind. The family she knew. Her mom. Steve. Everyone else. The people surrounding her, all here to show their support for Steve. That is what mattered.

Especially now, as the judge takes the stand, and it begins.

The opening statements are made. Evidence is brought forward. Witnesses take the stand, questioned and cross examined. Each item telling a tale of a young boy that was left to his own devices way too soon.

That was the main point of the case, at least. The emphasis of the age Steve was first left alone is the heavy hitter. How he was left alone for hours on end, with an entire house to himself. No supervision. No check ins. Anything could have happened. This town wasn’t as safe as everyone thought it was.

When Steve takes the stand, having to face the questions and badgering from his father’s attorney, the jury looks pissed. As he recounts the times alone in the house, how scared he was as a kid. As the tears come to his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. Not wanting to waste a single one more on his father. Showing the strength that someone of his age shouldn’t have.

He talks about his medical visits. The concussion he was sent to the hospital for in his freshman year after a bad fall on the basketball court. Brings up the ones after he was a legal adult, while he didn’t technically need them there anymore. It still didn’t look good.

Nothing changes the reaction in the defendant. If anything, it just makes him smugger. Him not understanding how any of this was bad. How bad he neglected his son.

It wasn’t until the verdict was read that the smirk was finally wiped off his face.

It was a unanimous vote. The plaintiff won.

. . .

The first thing Steve feels when the verdict is read is relief. Freedom. It’s over.

His lawyer pats Steve on the back and explains how he’ll take care of the transfer of funds. Will call to set up a meeting once the paperwork is filled out. Steve couldn’t care less.

He was believed. He fought, and won. Richard Harrington has no hold on him anymore.

As soon as he walks out of the courthouse, he’s met with more hugs and congratulations than he can count. People who came to support him, testify for him, believed in him.

People come over to the house that’s in his name. Bought for the people he cares about. Who care about him. A drink gets passed to him, someone turns on the radio. Voices flood the house, laughter, joy. He’s having a conversation with someone. A few people. Not being able to get a smile off his face. the feeling of disbelief sitting under his skin.

Tomorrow never looked brighter than it does right now.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

#i don't know which way's home fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #el hopper #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclai #mike wheeler #will byers #nancy wheeler #julie lawson #original female character #long lost/secret sibling au

[stick-by-me]

Memories fade (but joy remains)

New follower sticker for: @kidzwithcandy!

#stickers #sticker collection #New follower sticker! #Thought this one was... vaguely liminal adjacent/nostalgic just cuz of the faded second version #Anyway these are two separate stickers and I?? Cannot remember how I got Either #Nor do I know why ones so much more faded #I DO think it's friggin rad tho like!!! That's the passage of TIME baby!!!!!! #Fun #Pretty #individuals #vintage stickers #EHM brand #I couldn't figure out what that acronym meant :'3 #cool #Update: still unclear what the acronym is but I think the company is the same as Sky Enterprises

[tornioduva]

Dungeon meshi and body proportions

Ok, i'm feeling the rush i got from binging the manga this last week is starting to fade away, i'll be back to being a normal person soon i think. at least, that is before i find a new something for me to dive into uhuh.

Before that happens, i want to praise Ryoko Kui for one last think. The design of the characters!

For years i've expressed (maybe not so much online) my hate towards the "anime style", this homogenization of traits and beauty standards to an artificial degree, and the mass spread and consumption of it. yes, trends exist for a reason, this is not the first nor the last art current to be popular and i'm not the first detractor of one in history. I do think there is something uniquely harmful in this one though, and that is why i'm able to find the energy to be such a pretentious dipshit about it. That is a discussion for another day though.

All this to say that going through Dungeon Meshi and seiing these characters, plus (and in a way because of it) all the additional sketches of the daydream hour bonus sections, was such a breath of fresh air! (at least for what concerns japanese exported stories)

All i could say and praise in regard to character designs in general is perfectly expressed in this video, which i recommend you to watch if you want to hear my opinions (and the video author's too, uhuh):

I want to leave you though with at least one specific praise for me: Falin.

i've seen countless time people (online) just not understanding how people's body work, how much differences there can be and how proportions do distribute and affect the body. in anime I see a lot of short and tall people (mostly women girls) that share the same proportions despite their actual height, and that often leads to think "yeah, she is short" and than she's tall when around someone, or (most often) the contrary. same lenght of limbs, same head to body proportions, and little details like this.

Falin you can tell at a glance she is a tall woman before she's around anyone, even when she is standing near her brother who is taller than her.

Kui did her homework in studying bodies and variations, and, whether consciously or not, she differentiated her in body in subtle but fundamental ways: her head being slightly smaller than her body, the neck being fairly long, and her having somewhat broader shoulders.

I accept that there might be an element of suggestion at play here, considering also how she is dressed most of the time, but I really do think there is a direct effort at differentiation here.

This is the first time in a long time (in a series like this at least) where i've seen a woman carrying herself around others and the space around here kind of like a person like me, tall, would; at first i didn't think much of it, but then i saw her near other characters and....i don't know, i felt a warm, joyful feeling, seeing that i was right in recognizing that trait and being right.

I was especially happy in seeing her next to marcille. not so much for the height difference, but for how different they were in proportions and mannerism. A lesser manga i fear would have used marcille's body type and way of moving and interacting as the default for most other girls, but here she was uniquely herself!

Now, i could've used more extreme exemples to show how this author rocks in body types representations (while aknowledging there could've been even more diversification still), given there are far larger, taller and stranger women, but to me, nailing the little, most subtle details in such a chirurgical manner shows a greater level of mastery and comprehension. As such, Falin left me with a deeper fascination than most other characters.

Sorry for this wall of text, but i needed to let my happy thoughts go, so that i could be free again uhuh.

Feel free to tell me that i'm wrong, or that i should just accept anime media as is. i'm just really happy Dungeon meshi exists as is and i want Ryoko Kui to keep refining her craft, and drawing beautiful women and dwarves.

Plus, this was very much a stream of consciousness, i didn't go into technical details about what i think conveyed what i described, but if someone is interested, or does not get what i'm saying (while expressing it in a curious and gentle way, i won't respond to spiteful assholes), i'll be happy to make a follow up post in which i try to dissect this! For example, i didn't reread the whole manga to find examples of her, i just went to the wiki uhuh. in a follow up post maybe i'll try to go through chapters and pick more specific examples of her.

Anyway, have a good day!

#tornio #tornioduva #torniod #fantasy #torniotalk #dungeon meshi #delicious #delicious in dungeon #dungeon food #ryoko kui please keep drawing beautiful people #ryoko kui #my head is free now i think #falin i want to hug you #Youtube

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru

wc: 2.1k

summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.

contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are ‘guardians’ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentine’s chocolate tradition, reader’s cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining

a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.

part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring. 

You walk along the street. 

A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into. 

You’ve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because she’d mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops. 

Who would have thought you’d be back so soon? With—

“Satoru,” you call out, half-giggling, “why are you sniffing?” 

Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils. 

“You smell like chocolate.”

Out of all the plans you’d anticipated on Valentine’s Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them. 

You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique. 

He pulls back, falling into step with you. 

“Tsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.” 

Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement. 

“Oh?” Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, “What kind?” 

You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company he’s comfortable sharing that side of him with. 

It’s been a while since Gojo’s been ‘home’ in the past week, so you don’t blame him for wondering. 

“Tomo mostly,” your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, “though I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasn’t looking.” 

There’s a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh. 

For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojo’s grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of them—to Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely. 

‘Home’, which is where the kids stay, but it’s neither yours nor his—just a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. You’re with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, there’s hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you haven’t seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat. 

You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.

He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it. 

Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojo’s silence feels unsettling—as if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you can’t quite get a read on just yet. 

So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around when—

“Did you?” 

The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night. 

Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?

“Hm?” you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better. 

He doesn’t answer. 

You stop walking. 

“Did I what?” you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.

(“Did you make honmei chocolate?” he means.) 

Still, no answer. 

The tips of Gojo’s ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.

His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing. 

“Wanna see something cool?” he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didn’t ask you anything, as if you didn’t ask what he meant—as if you didn’t just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare. 

The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But you’ve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means. 

You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldly—a crazed look you’ve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him. 

There’s really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the mission’s location—an abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighbourhood’s nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere more quieter, more secluded. 

Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you can’t quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought. 

“C’mon, it’ll be quick.” he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, “I’ve finally perfected it.”

A beat—skipped before your heart races. 

You wonder if he knows, if he’s using this to his advantage, because—

—when have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way? 

The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely ‘to assist’, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. It’s more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum. 

They shouldn’t have called on you, of all people—you’re on Gojo’s side. Always. 

A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.

“Fine.” 

He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. It’s a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojo’s cologne. 

This is bad for your feelings. 

(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.) 

There’s something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.

You’ve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns away—a reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold. 

When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly. 

“You have to hold on to me,” he instructs you. 

Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly. 

He shakes it off just as quickly, “You might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.” 

Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than you’re both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day. 

Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin. 

“Don’t let go, okay?”

Another beat—followed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder. 

You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek. 

“Okay,” your fingers curl around his arm tighter. 

He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place. 

“What do you think?” Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching. 

You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheet—

“It’s…” you try to find the right words, “... empty?” 

He gasps exaggeratedly, “Hey!” then pouts in fake offense, “I made it porcelain white at least. This isn’t pure white you know.” 

You eye him from the side.

He chuckles, breaking his act, “You should be honored.”

A pause—his tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. 

“You’re the first person I’m bringing in here.” 

His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too. 

You’re touched, knowing how secretive he’s been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it. 

“It’s clean,” you finally say, playing along, “I like it.” 

He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile. 

“Shame I can’t really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.” 

You snort, knowing full well that Gojo’s very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire place’s aesthetic off of that. 

“Someday.” you catch his eyes again. 

(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeat—pink noise that can’t possibly be a product of your technique. 

In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.) 

He hums before looking back to the empty space, “Acoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.” 

You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined it—if he had meant it or not. 

. 

The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migraines—a mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawa’s night life as you exit the neighborhood. 

You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he uses—an imbued blindfold maybe? You’ll have to think about it some more. 

(When you both get ‘home’, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of it—a fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter. 

The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.

You don’t end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. It’s a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichi—a tradition you’ve kept up since you were 16. 

But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling ‘Satoru’. 

So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and he’s realizing that he likes it that way—he might prefer it much more, actually.)

a/n: haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).

thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you 🥹 + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read 🥹 ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #rated #shotorus.writes #col #dykwlil #shotorus.events #how to be your lover boy collab

[clockwayswrites]

Rumors of a Prince

“You could always ask Jason to pay her a visit,” Dick said from where he was lounging, mostly upside down, on the couch in Bruce’s study.

Bruce frowned at him. “I am not going to have Jason kill Vickie Vale.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said kill!” Dick held his hands up or, rather, given his position, down. “I just meant puts some fear into her. Maybe kidnap her for a few days so that she can’t write any more libel.”

Bruce found himself smiling, slightly and against his better judgment. It faded away when he looked back at his laptop. “At least in this case, it wouldn’t do much good. The stories is already out there and, unfortunately, Vale’s take on it has captured the public’s attention.”

“Tim knows I bet… and Babs.”

“Undoubtedly by now.”

“And if those two know, Steph knows. If Steph knows, she’s ranted to Cass.”

“Yes.” This family was impossible to keep things secret in.

“Welp,” Dick said and swung himself to be sitting up normally— or as normally as Dick ever sat. “Then I guess we better tell the others. How do you want to divide this?”

Bruce was grateful that Dick was willing to be his partner in this. “You would be best to take Jason. I’ll speak with Damian. Either of us can catch Duke when he returns from his patrol.”

Dick nodded. “And Tom?”

“I think perhaps it would be best to have as much of the family in the manor as possible,” Bruce said after a moment. “If he destabilizes, I want him to know that we are around and that he is still safe.”

“Alright.” Dick slapped his knees once and stood. “I’ll drag Jason back then. You know he’ll come if it’s for Tom.”

“Make sure he reads the article before he comes over.”

Dick grimaced. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be best. I’m going to bring some food too over with me. Good luck convincing Dami that he can’t go and stab Vickie Vale.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dick chirped as he left for his task.

Bruce dropped his hand.

‘Gotham’s Pale Prince’ stared back at him from the screen.

-

“Seriously?!” Jason burst in through the kitchen door. “Have you read this swill?”

“Yes chum, of course I have,” Bruce said. He shot Dick, who trailing behind Jason’s fury, a look. Dick was supposed to get Jason to read the article before coming over.

Dick just shrugged helplessly and motioned in a way that conveyed Jason had read it and was still clearly quite upset.

“One of the biggest questions is,” Jason said, clearly reading now from the article with the air of Bristol accent he had put on, “perhaps, why the newest Wayne is not in school. Bruce has proven himself to be a champion of the educational system. This is despite the man himself being a college drop out’ like what the fuck?”

“To be fair, I am,” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes and continued. “His oldest ward’— Dick is fucking adopted now, bitch!”

“Boo!” Steph echoed and tossed popcorn at the tablet Jason was holding.

(Bruce was neither sure when Stephanie had arrived nor where she got the popcorn.)

“Never going to college,” Jason said with a jab of his free hand, “and the second oldest never completing high school.’ I was dead you narrow minded shew!”

“Well, I mean, all she knows is that you were supposedly kidnapped by terrorists and tortured for years,” Dick said. He had moved over to help himself to Stephanie’s popcorn and paused raising the next handful to his face. “Okay, no, that’s actually worse.”

“And you are clear on your line that I cannot stab this woman for the dishonor she implies about the family?” Damian asked, again, as he joined them in the kitchen.

“Unfortunately we have to handle this the proper way, with a press conference,” Bruce said. Stabbing was looking increasingly appealing though.

Jason dropped into one of the open chairs. “I’d call it a battle of the wits, but I don’t think Vale has any left with this trash she’s writing!”

“Alright,” Tim said as he entered the kitchen with almost as much fury as Jason, just more contained. Cass followed in his wake. “I am sure that B has already run through no killing, no stabbing, no maiming, no poisoning—”

“No poisoning Vickie Vale,” Bruce said, feeling so tired.

“Way to go, Timbit, now we can’t poison her,” Jason groused.

Tim sighed, “Fair, I shouldn’t have assumed. I really thought someone else would have brought it up already.”

“People went for more bloody options,” Dick explained.

“Also fair,” Tim said, pointing at him. “Anyways, since we can’t do all that, can I ruin her reputation?”

“Tim,” Bruce sighed.

“Now come on old man, let’s here Timtam out,” Jason said, holding out his arm. “You said yourself we had to handle the proper way and I’m sure that our little socialite here knows just how to ruin her through something like a press conference.”

“You I can stab,” Tim said with a shark sharp smile towards Jason.

Jason returned it with a smile like broken glass. “You can try.”

“Oh, if you keep calling me a socialite I will try and I will manage.”

“Boys, please.”

“Are people threatening blood and violence again?”

Every head in the room swiveled towards the door to the hall.

Tom almost recoiled at the sudden attention of all of the family, taking a half step back and looking a little wide eyed.

Cass walked forward and wrapped her arm around Tom’s. “Tim is. To Jason.”

It took a moment for Tom to tear his eyes away from the family to look at his sister. “Of course. What’s… it about this time?”

“Jason is reminding Tim that he’s a rich society brat and Tim hates to be reminded about that even though it’s true because Tim is also a little freak and the upper crust would be applaud if they knew even a fraction of it,” Steph said before she stuffed his mouth full of more popcorn.

Everyone in the room paused for a moment.

“No, yep, I think that’s pretty much spot on,” Dick said. He wasn’t even pretending not to laugh.

The laughter was infectious and almost everyone was either snickering or outright laughing. Bruce even quirked up a little smile. Tom still looked mostly confused but at least less nervous.

“Come sit by me, little shadow,” Dick said with a smile.

When Thomas settled next to Dick, who immediately wrapped an arm around him, the room settled again into that slightly somber mood.

“What is going on?” Tom asked, voice small. There were times when he still seemed unsure if he could be a presence in a room or consternation. It was something that they were still working on as a family.

Bruce sighed. “A reporter found out about you and wrote an article with mostly speculation. Unfortunately, because of who I am in the city and my existing tendency to adopt, it’s getting attention.”

Tom chewed on his lip and Bruce just hoped he wouldn’t worry it so much it bled. “Bad?”

“Not bad towards you, but unkind. She made a lot of guesses and fact reasons about why the public hasn’t seen you,” Bruce explained.

“Oh. Am I…?”

The dropping of words wasn’t the best sign. Dick pulled Tom into his lap.

“No. Most of the children didn’t attend the press conference announcing them and you don’t have to either. But I will need to make one simply to clear up some of rumors. I wont say anything that you don’t want me to say.”

“Bruce and I can plan it out,” Tim said, “and then run it by you if you want to look over it.”

“Can… will… if anyone wants to help…”

“Of course!” Dick said cheerfully. “We can make a lunch of it or something. It will be the best press conference yet.”

“Yeah. And you don’t even have to watch it,” Jason said. “We’ll plan something fun for that day. The old man can go and do the hard work and we’ll enjoy ourselves.”

“Thank you, Jason,” Bruce said dryly, pretending he wasn’t warmed still whenever Jason refereed to him as anything approaching father.

“It’s what you deserve,” Jason said and tossed his tablet, cleared of the article, on the table. “Come on, let’s plan what we’re going to do.”

“The zoo is always enjoyable,” Damian said.

“You always say zoo,” Cass pointed out as she perched next to Jason.

“What about the park?” Steph suggested. She joined the others at the table and passed around her popcorn.

“Nah, Ivy has a new variety of tulips. I’m worried some of them might turn man eating again,” Dick said.

“We could head out of Gotham I guess,” Jason pointed out and pulled up the map.

Bruce slipped quietly out of the room with Tim on his heels.

“You can stay with them and help them plan,” Bruce offered. Tim was always too grownup, had been since before he came to Bruce.

Tim just shook his head. “I’m never the best distraction. I’ll be more use to you. Besides, I have some plans to run by you that doesn’t need the blood thirsty contingency hearing about.”

“Of course you do,” Bruce said with both a sigh and a smile.

“Nothing physical,” Tim defended himself. “I can ruin her legally.”

“That I have no doubt of.”

No matter what, Bruce had absolutely no doubt that the family would be there for Tom. They were a family, after all.

---

AN: Vickie Vale won't know what hit her. Esp after what she wrote.

Don't know if this will become a full sequel or not, but it was fun to revisit this universe and see how they've progressed!

#dp x dc #shadow of a bat #rumors of a prince #batpham #phanTOM is Danny #and now Thomas Wayne

[helluvapoison]

You were a rare soul— and that means something down here. You didn’t care about holding the title Overlord, nor the power that came with it. You had exactly zero souls under your belt, yet people… respected you. Not feared, respected. A peculiar word to hear in Hell.

Your name was uttered quieter than a whisper, like saying it an octave too loud would summon you.

The Rat King.

Soon you would meet…

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer Morningstar ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: gn reader, language, angst, canon divergence

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• He thought it was very brave (re: idiotic) to carry the title king in his domain

• Lucifer came to you out of boredom, absurdity, and— no shit— the slightest bit of self indulgence! He was supposed to see this so called second king and rip them a new asshole. Except you weren’t a king— not even close

• He scoured you toes to head, seemingly unimpressed. Not rat-like, not king-like. Lucifer knew himself well enough to know he should have been bored by now. His expectations plummeted, nothing was going according to plan. And yet.. he found himself more curious than before

“You’re this ‘Rat King’ I hear so much about?”

“I guess so” You shrugged, “But I didn’t pick that name for myself.”

• You properly introduced yourself to the one and only king. Your real name tasted interesting on his tongue. Lucifer tested it thrice as he shook your hand, relooking you over like he missed something

• Apparently they called you The Rat King because you were in the secret trading business. Give one, get one. Simple as that. You explained the rules to him over a cup of tea that he asked for. It wasn’t his first or second choice of blend but he drank it to be polite. No other motive. Definitely not because there was a question on the tip of his split tongue

• Lucifer wasn’t the most observant of people. He couldn’t tell what people were thinking, he wasn’t fluent in body language. So when he caught your eyes bouncing between his tight grip on the chipped cup you offered him, to his jittery knee sticking out from where he sat. His body and his head were, for one, in agreeance; leave, they told him. He didn’t like to be sized up and that was always his go to answer for why someone was watching him so intently. But with his chest facing you, and his heart in control, he stayed put

• “Lilith.” He choked out, “I want any knowledge you have on her.”

Saying her name out loud hurt more than he thought it would. It was acid in his belly, smoke in his lungs, and fire on his tongue.

Your smile faded.

“What?” He scoffed, “Lemme guess, you want something, right? A deal? I have to make a deal to find my own wife? Let’s get this over with then! I’m the fucking King of Hell, whatever you want is—“

Your hand shot out so suddenly that Lucifer was almost disappointed. He was expecting this. Right? This is what Sinners did, it’s why they were here. Why was he hoping you’d be different? And, more importantly, when did hope creep into his system again? He hadn’t been on good terms with the feeling in decades.

• However, Lucifer’s disappointment was killed before it could spread. Gently, so gently he could cry, you took his hand and pushed it, palm down, onto the table. Your eyes never left his. There was something about them that captivated him. He loathed it. It made him feel small. Not the kind of small that equaled insignificant, either.

No, it was worse.

Vulnerable.

“I don’t do deals,” You said quickly and it had Lucifer wondering if those eyes of yours saw how his mind was spiraling.

Stealing his hand back, ignoring how he immediately missed the contact, he wiped it on his pants.

A suspicious glare took over his face, “You—?What? You don’t do deals? What does that even mean!?”

“I just… trade secrets,” You sounded so defeated, “I don’t need deals for that. But I don’t have any secrets about the queen. I’m sorry.”

• Lucifer expected pity to rear its ugly head from you any moment now. His pride couldn’t take that hit, not today. What was it about you that made him so fucking transparent?

• The uncomfortable silence began creeping into the insufferably small shop of yours. It was fucking suffocating.

“I wish I could help you, I really do.” You said softly.

He really wished you would stop doing that. Your softness felt like a dagger to the heart. Reminding him it existed was agony he thought he’d never feel again.

• “Not one?” Lucifer asked bitterly.

Not a single one of these undeserving demons and sinners that Lilith loved so much spoke about her? Not a whisper or a rumor? They just forgot about her? It’s only been 4 years!

“I’m sorry, your majesty, if I hear something, I can—“

“No… No, it’s fine.” Lucifer cut you off, holding up his hand. His wedding ring blinded him with a sparkling gleam. He sighed, “I think we’re done here.”

• You stepped behind him cautiously, walking him to the door.

“You’re welcome to come back?”

He scoffed out a laugh, grinning at you from over his shoulder, “You’re not getting any of my secrets.”

A smile of your own began to spread.

“I also dabble in conversation.”

_

(part one? or move on to the next character? i dunno if i feel like continuing but want this to be as interactive as possible so tell me what you would like to see!)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar

[huskersbooze]

Sick

Alastor x Reader

Summary : You get sick and Alastor keeps you company <3

Warnings : Swearing(lots of it)

Pairings : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here)

Additional Tags : ALASTOR POV CUZ YES. Sick reader, implied relationship, h/c, fluff, comfort

Word count : 1.01k

“Hey, you alright, kid?” Husk tilts his head to the side, wiping down the last glass of the day.

You don’t respond. Instead, you’re staring off into the distance, dozing off in your own world.

“Kid?”

“Huh? What?” You finally snap out of your thoughts.

“Geez, ya’ look like hell.” Husk acknowledges. “Are you sick?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I don’t think so?”

“Go rest. I’ll work alone today.”

“What? No! I’m fine I swear-” Before you’re able to finish your sentence, Husk flips you off.

“Bullshit. Go find your radio boyfriend.”

“Don’t bullshit me-”

You try arguing but Husk only smirks when he catches a glimpse of Alastor who’s appeared right behind you.

“Well, I just did.” He says. “Now stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m not being stubborn I-” 

You feel a hand being put to your forehead and try to fight back, only to realise it was Alastor.

“High fever.” He lets go. “You’re being stubborn.”

“Oh, fuck you, Al.”

“We’ll fuck when you’re better, darling.”

You blush. Alastor grins. Husk tries to hold in a laugh but ultimately fails.

“You’re sick and you need rest, my dear. Come along.”

“I’m fine-”

Alastor can only sigh, picking you up as you yelp.

“This is completely, and utterly, your fault single-handedly.” He smiled as you pouted. “You're very much welcome, darling.”

“Whatever.”

-----

You managed to escape Alastor as he leaves to mess with Vox. (Ep2 lmao)

Upon returning to the bar, Husk was not pleased to see your ass out of bed, emphasising on how important sleep was to someone sick.

You couldn’t care less.

Though, after wiping down a few more bottles with him, your eyes doze off and your eyelids feel droopy.

“Kid?”

The world spins and fades away.

“Fuck! Kid, ya’ alright?! Alastor!”

-----

[Alastor’s pov]

I heard a little groan as my eyes widened.

"Darling." I whispered, hoping not to startle her.

"Al..?" She breathed out.

"Good morning." I joked, though so grateful she was now awake.

"Wha.. What time is it?" She asked, struggling to get up.

"Be careful." I ushered, helping her sit. "I'm not so sure myself. It's very late at night."

"Where am I?" She asked, finally waking up as she stopped slurring through her words. 

"My room. ‘I’m not sick’ my arse." I replied.

"Oh. Well, I guess you and Husk were right. I just thought I was a little sick." She murmured. 

"You are sick." I replied. "Just worse than you expected."

"Real humorous, Al." She gave a small, yet weak, giggle.

Silence filled the air between us, and we didn't say anything else after that. That was, until she gave a small sneeze. I could tell she tried to suppress it, but seeing it was late at night and so quiet, it was hard not to notice.

"Are you cold?" I asked. I could barely make out the silhouette of her nodding lightly. Without hesitating, I took off my coat and handed it over to her. "Better?"

"A lot. Thanks, Al." She replied. After another few seconds of silence, she spoke up once more. "Why aren’t you asleep?"

"You do remember your dear partner does not need, nor does he enjoy, sleep?"

"Excuse, excuses." She joked, earning a chuckle from me.

"I can't really sleep now." She suddenly says out of nowhere. One thing I really like about this girl, she says the most random things in the most random situations. "Could we do something else?"

"Are you trying to get me killed?" I laughed. "You need to rest."

"I'm aware. That's the initial plan, anyways." She joked. At least, I hoped she was joking.

"You sneaky little deer."

"Yes. That's me. Hello." She replied, sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed as she proceeded to look at me in the dark room. “Besides, it’s not like anyone here at the Hotel is actually powerful enough to kill you.”

"Very well, then. What do you have in mind?"

“Some jazz and cuddles would be nice.”

-----

She chokes on another cough.

"Are you sure you're alright? You should really rest in such vulnerable state."

"I'm," Another cough. "Fine. I swear."

"If you insist."

After a while, I turned to face her, worried she wasn't enjoying herself anymore, only to find her sound asleep, clinging lightly to my shirt. See? I told you were sleepy. You just refused to listen to me. I stopped and watched the girl, moving little by little, afraid of waking her up.

She looked so peaceful. Though, it wouldn't be the first time I find her sleeping in my presence. I tugged a small strand of hair behind her ear as she shifted a little. I immediately paused. Shit, had I woken her? Though she soon returned to her slumber and she curled up into a ball in front of me.

I suppose this would suffice.

"Goodnight, darling." I whispered softly, laying next to her in the bed. "See you in the morning."

-----

[2nd person]

You awoke early in the morning, feeling well rested. Your bed was awfully more comfortable than you had remembered. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, finally opening them for the first time, only to find that you weren't in your own room. It took you a while to let things simmer in.

That's when you heard snoring next to you.

You turned to find the Radio Demon cuddled into a ball next to you in bed sleeping oh so soundly. The poor man probably hadn't had sleep in days. Before you could process what was happening, you checked the time and realized you had to be back at the bar for work in 5 minutes. Not wanting to wake Alastor up, you left him a quick note to thank him and left.

----

The whole day passed and you never caught sight of Alastor. After closing the bar, you headed to Alastor’s room,hoping to find him there.

You stop at his door and break out a tiny laugh.

On the door, a rushed sign saying — Sick. Keep out.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor #hazbin hotel season 1 #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin #alastor x reader #alastor altruist #alastor fluff #alastor x you #alastor headcanons #alastor hartfelt #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel husk #husk hazbin hotel #husker #husk #alastor x y/n #sick reader #alastorpov

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 8] Megumi's Baseball Game

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’re more tired than you’d like to be. A week passes and Megumi’s baseball games approaches, and you’re thinking of skipping out on it. It’s not like he’ll miss you a lot. Staying home sounds tempting, but then you think about how going to his game gives you an excuse to go out to eat. And even if he won’t miss you, he’ll appreciate having you there. 

After much pondering, you decide to call Toji. You’ll be going to the same place after all, you don’t want to take public transportation nor do you want to spend extra money on a taxi. The phone doesn’t ring twice before he picks up.

“Hello?” He answers, and regret begins to consume you as you hear his voice. Do you really want to see Toji? Sit in the car with him for that long? You stay silent for a moment, and Toji repeats himself.

“Hi, Toji.” You respond, and you debate on hanging up right away. A butt dial? Would he buy that?

“Hi, baby. Is everything okay? Is there something wrong?” He asks, doubting that you’d willingly call him. Every second passes slowly as he waits for your answer.

“I’m going to Megumi’s game… Can you pick me up?” You ask, and Toji doesn’t waste a moment to answer.

“Yes. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” Which takes you by surprise since you thought the game was a bit later. You hang up and go to your room to change into something that’s not your pajamas– But something comfortable nonetheless. 

You won’t put effort into your look, you shouldn’t. You’re just going to watch Megumi play a baseball game, and you’ll be with your ex-husband. You shouldn’t put any effort into your look, but you do. You wear just a tad bit of makeup and put on a cute outfit. You definitely put in a bit of effort even if you didn’t consciously intend to.

Toji knocks on your door earlier than the time he had given you, and luckily you finish getting ready right at that moment. You open the door for him, and he looks more relaxed than usual, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a long sleeve black compression shirt. It’s much different than his usual business wear.

“Are you ready to go?” Toji asks, and you nod your head in response. You know he won’t comment on how pretty you look, on how the shade of pink really goes well with your skin tone, on how you’re literally glowing– Toji has never been the type to really praise your looks.

You walk to his car and get in, where a silent car ride begins. You think about speaking first, but you bite your tongue. You’ll feel like when you were married, constantly trying to start a one-sided conversation that’ll lead nowhere. If he wants to talk, he needs to start the conversation himself.

“So um… Is your morning sickness getting better?” Toji clears his throat, deciding to use his voice. There’s no point for all the silence, it eats him alive, yet, he doesn’t want to put on any music. He wants to hear your voice because he rarely hears it anymore. He wishes he had videos of you talking so he could hear your voice when he feels like it’s faded in his short memory.

“Not really.” You answer. Of all topics that he could bring up, that’s certainly the last one that you want to talk about. Instead of leaving him with the dry response, you change the topic to something else in your pregnancy that’s been bugging you. “I’ve been having some really weird cravings lately.”

“Like what?” He asks.

“Last night I wanted bacon drizzled in caramel… And it still sounds so good right now.” You share, and he scrunches his nose up, slightly disgusted. That doesn’t sound too appetizing. Yet he still says,

“Whenever you want something, call me and I’ll try to see what I can do.” Which surprises you. You weren’t expecting him to say that, and it brings a small smile to your lips. You know why he says it, why he’s suddenly part of a man that you wish you would’ve had as your husband. But you still smile, feeling a flake of happiness in you.

“The laundry detergent was also smelling so good–” You begin, but he cuts you off.

“If you want to drink laundry detergent, do it after you have the baby.” He says, which makes you chuckle. You feel as he slowly grows accustomed to the idea of your pregnancy, how he slowly grows excited at the thought of becoming a father again. It makes you happier than you’d like. You were set on having your baby on your own, raising them alone, yet you feel happy when Toji becomes happy about his baby. 

You get to the parking lot of the baseball field, and you find that the game has already started. You follow Toji to take a seat, and you sit quietly amongst a group of rowdy parents and teenagers– It’s a high school baseball game (not even varsity at that), it can’t be that serious. But you do feel the excitement when Megumi goes up to pitch, and you’re smiling ear to ear as you watch him. You do cheer him on, but you aren’t as loud as the rest. It encourages Toji to do the same, but he doesn’t do much, he just whistles.

“I hope I’m not too late.” You’re startled by Toji’s friend, Shiu, as he approaches where you sit. He takes a seat behind you, and just by catching a glimpse of his face, you’re pissed off. Sure, Shiu was very helpful when he helped you move, but you’re still pissed that he left you with Toji of all people. 

Toji greets his buddy while you ignore him. You don’t want to talk to Shiu, and you don’t have to either. No one will force you to talk to Shiu.

“I don’t think Megumi noticed you were missing.” Toji comments, turning his attention back to the game. Shiu smacks the back of Toji’s head, and Toji rolls his eyes. It’s their usual banter, of course you won’t pay much attention to them. Toji throws his arm over your shoulder, and brings you into his embrace, which you don’t fight. 

“It’s weird to find you here.” Shiu speaks up. You’re not together anymore… He understands why you’re here, you have your own bond with Megumi that’s separate from your relationship with Toji, but why is he throwing his arm over you and why aren’t you pushing him away? You don’t answer though, you clearly don’t want to talk to him.

“I forgot to tell you, Shiu. We’re having a baby.” Toji announces, and Shiu’s eyes go wide. He wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting a lot of stuff but certainly not that. Many questions come into his head, but it’s best for him to stay quiet. But he has to ask one question that’ll eat him up alive if he doesn’t–

“Are you two back together?” He asks, and you get Toji’s arm off your shoulder.

“No. We’re not back together.” You answer, and Toji glares at Shiu. Shiu bites his tongue, knowing that this isn’t the time or place to ask all the questions that flood his mind. What the hell are you going to do?

You watch the rest of the game in silence. When it’s done, you and Toji approach Megumi. He’s with his friends so it’s awkward. When he finally turns his attention to you, he leans in for a hug which you’re reluctant to return since he’s all sweaty. But you still hug him. 

“You had a great game, Megumi. You did such a great job.” You praise him, and he smiles at you.

“How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you much, just what dad has to say… But I don’t trust him all that much.” He says, a chuckle leaving your lips at his comment.

“I’ve been doing good, Megumi. But I want to know how you’re doing? How’s school?” You begin to chat with him, and Toji listens in. He taps his foot on the ground, his patience slowly running out. Sure, it’s nice to see that you two have a bond and whatnot but it’s boring for him to just stand idle.

“How about we go out for food and you two can chat there? Shiu is also waiting for us.” Toji cuts off the conversation, doubting that he can stand still for another minute.

“I actually have plans to go out to eat with my friends.” Megumi says, and Toji frowns as he crosses his arms.

“With whose permission?” Toji responds. You usually don’t get involved when similar issues happen, you did once and Toji reminded you that you weren’t Megumi’s parent. But today is different, mainly because Toji is trying to earn your forgiveness, and you use it to your advantage.

“You can go, Megumi. Have fun.” Your arm intertwines with Toji’s, and you give him doe eyes as you look up at him. “Give him some money, Toji.”

Toji huffs as he reaches for his wallet. He gives Megumi some money, and you say your goodbyes before walking away. You know you shouldn’t have stepped in, but Toji won’t scold you for it, especially when your arms are intertwined. You let go of him after a couple of steps since your work with helping Megumi is done.

Your stomach growls, and it’s loud and clear, making your face grow warm of embarrassment. You still smile and say, “Let’s go out to eat.”

“Is that why you sent Megumi off? So we could eat alone?” Toji asks, and it fuels his ego. You have a smirk on your face when you tell him,

“What about Shiu? Are you just going to leave him all alone?”

“To hell with him.” He scoffs. “He’s a grown man, I didn’t even invite him here. I’m not paying for his food.”

“You can convince him to pay yours. Use the fact that you’re having a baby, guilt trip him.” You give him some useful advice, especially since you don’t want to be all alone with him. You don’t trust yourself a lot, especially not lately. Not because you’ve forgiven him and want to get back with him, but because you’re hormonal and don’t trust your body to not make a sudden move.

“You’re right… Let’s do that.” Toji says, his hand going up in the air and waving at Shiu before he calls out, “Hey, Shiu! Let’s go out to eat!”

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

[thesharktanksdriver]

Anarchy in the Spiderweb (Romantic)

I don’t know British slang so sorry if he’s dialogue seems a bit out of character.

Also watches this movie 2 days ago so I’m going off of memory of him plus other people’s interpretations

Not even sure this is good but my mind is racing with him and this is what came out of that

From the moment you met Hobie brown you knew that the two of you would end up inexplicably tangled together somehow

Your not sure why, but it felt as if fate had pulled you both together

It was in high school you both met

Him, the cool and justice focused punk who was regularly getting himself into fights

And you, the relatively normal but meek kid who was regularly picked on

It was a cold and dreary afternoon which was normal for London weather

You were walking home, new bruises lining your arms after being pushed around once again

Old cuts now reopened as you walk with your bag hugged to your chest

It was then turning a corner you saw him

Bruised just like you were but with a proud smile, blood staining his teeth and knuckles like shining beacons to his victory

A complete opposite to you

Without thinking you pull out some spare bandages from your bag

Rushing over before he could say anything and doing your best to patch him up

It was when you looked him in the eyes you paused

And it was then that you felt it, an odd spark of something that you both seemingly felt

A shiver goes down your spine and it’s not from the cold nor your bruises

Once your done wrapping him up as best you could you go to scurry away but your stopped when his hand grabs your wrist

For a moment your afraid

But then he speaks

“You got into your own battles huh?”

“I…” you pause to think of the right words “if you call standing there and taking it as a battle…then yeah”

He gets a look in his eyes, something burning and angry but not directed at you. “I’m Hobie. You need some company?”

For a moment you think it over, there might be more kids on your way back home “I…sure. I’m Y/n”

He pats your shoulder with a gentleness you haven’t expected, his smile is cool and calm. “Aight”

From then on you stuck like glue

Despite skipping classes he’d show up when your classes would end to walk you to the next

Lunches that used to be alone were now spent with him behind the school with his newest track list

In his words it was to “listen to some real music”

The bruises that we’re constantly reappearing now faded away

As did the constant frown and anxiety that filled you when going to school

At some point you enjoyed heading to the corrupt system that did nothing to help you

But Hobie did and that’s what had mattered to you

Even as people stopped picking on you he stayed

You began hanging out with him after school

Being taken to some hole in the wall places he found via word of mouth

Some of which end up in running from the police afterwards but with that comes dodging into alleyways and then laughing your ass off

Going to unknown concerts for bands you’d never heard of

Being dragged backstage by him during his small concert venues as well

It’s quite possibly the most fun you’d had in your life

And with that you begin to open up more much to his pleasure

You used to be a shy wallflower but now he saw a different side to you

One that loved adventure and risk

Someone who desperately needed to break out of their shell with a little help

A person who began experimenting in their own style with his help

Sometimes he crashes randomly at your place, coming in through the window after knocking on it

Usually at some random time in the night

But despite how you grumble about it you let him in

On nights like these he strums his guitar, trying out new songs he’s made and getting your opinion

Or doing activities like having you paint his nails

He doesn’t care about the colour, even if it’s something that clashes with his looks

Also may or may not have pierced your ears

At some point within the night you both crash on the bed in a mess of limbs

Luckily he has the hindsight to take off his boots and studded clothes

At some point Hobie begins to show up at your place more with injuries that need to be patched up

It worries you a bit, especially as Oscorp becomes bigger and bigger

It’s not like he hasn’t gotten into fights before and came to you but now things are changing

And not for the better

But regardless you know it’s useless talking him out of it

you knew how he was

He’d never not stand up for others

Never stop going against the system

And that had to be one of the things you loved most about him

So you just stick to patching him up, lightly teasing him a bit which makes him chuckle

Butterflies fluttering in your stomach as his deep voice rumbles

It doesn’t help that as of late he had also been much more…affectionate?

Not in the traditional sense, but in his own way

From the beginning of knowing him, Hobie has had a habit of gifting you things as a sign of care

And that hasn’t stopped, it increased quite a bit

All his gifts are handmade and personal. Things only you and him would have the context to understand

Also cause he hates capitalism

Hand painted bottle caps that he made into buttons

Small scraps of paper of lyrics from his songs

Playlists he made with hand selected songs that “remind him of you” that have certain romantic subtext

Customizing your clothes (with your permission) into something similar to his style yet personalized just for you

They aren’t grand gestures but each are more meaningful that way

Each somehow recalling an old memory between the two of you

Like him showing you the sex pistols for the first time at lunch whilst he played along with the tune

Or a button with your nickname on it

All those can be somewhat written off though, maybe he was just being more sentimental as of late

Maybe he did this with other close friends (your not sure if he really talked to anyone but you though?)

But then again he’d also been more touchy

Draping an arm around your shoulder when he notices you getting uncomfortable

Lingering by your side closer than he did before

The occasional time his rough hands will graze yours almost intentionally

By doing this many seem to assume your both a couple and he never goes out of his way to correct them

Just letting the comment slide as your left to frantically explain

It seems to be signs that he might like you yet your not fully sure

He’s the first ever really good thing in your life and you can’t risk ruining it

Not when there’s still a chance your looking into things too much

Not when he may find it too awkward and stop being there for you

Eventually during hangouts he brings up the subject of the new spider vigilante

It’s not very surprising to you, yet you can’t help but be a bit intrigued since he had a negative view on heros

You tell him the truth though since there no point lying to him

Spider-Man or Spider-punk as he’s widely nicknamed, is pretty cool in your opinion

He reminded you a lot of Hobie in the fact he stood up for the weak and gave the middle finger to pricks in power

In that regard he earned your respect

Along with the fact you had to admit he was pretty cool looking

That earns you a chuckle from Hobie as he rummages through his bag for something

Meanwhile your still talking when he suddenly shows you a very familiar spider mask with spikes along the top to mimic a Mohawk

And now your staring in complete and utter shock

Mouth agape

Eyes wide

He just fucking laughs and pulls it over his head, somehow being able to contain his hair

“So you like it eh? Well…Do you like it even more now?”

“Hobie what the ever loving fuck?!?”

“I’ll take that as a yes”

“Your Spider-Man?! How??”

“Long story short, radioactive spider from illegal dumped waste. Not surprising to be honest. Not when you still haven’t caught onto the hints that I like you luv”

“Huh?! Wait you like me?!”

“Thought I made it pretty clear.”

Yeah so, Hobie just randomly dumps that on you

And it takes a while to process

But in that time he’s already holding you close as your a stuttering mess of confusion

He finds it cute

Especially since he gets to tease you about it a whole shit ton later

But once you do process it, things progress

He becomes you partner and you become his

Your trust between one another growing stronger as he tells you of his fights and goals

Those night visits increase as he literally swings past to say hi or get quickly patched up before heading out again

But now before he goes he insists in getting a kiss for luck

And how can you refuse him when he gives you that damn smirk

With his spider powers he likes to take you places you normally couldn’t see

Like the top of buildings to some old dilapidated factory that the two of you explore for shits and giggles

These become the equivalent of dates since he finds restaurants too cliche. He does bring food though on these excursions

In public he doesn’t change the amount of affection he gives you very much

A arm around your shoulder or curled around your waist

He prefers to not go beyond that but if someone is trying to flirt with you and they are the getting the message that your already in a relationship he may sneak a quick kiss

Along with this he also lets you have the honour of wearing his stuff

Jackets, vest, pins, shirts, you name it and he’ll lend you it

He finds it cute especially if it clashes with your own style

Speaking of which, he’ll also probably steal your stuff as well since he finds it nice to have something of yours with him

His enhanced sense make smell much more prominent to him and having something of yours with it makes him feel a bit more relaxed

Helps him on duty as well when things get rough, it just reminds him what he’s fighting for

Cause from the moment you both met on that shitty cold day he knew he needed to help you

And since then he’s wanted to make this shitty world better for the people who deserve it

Eventually when he’s approached by another Spider-Man from a different dimension named Miguel he is apprehensive

Hobie has (and will) never be someone who is ordered around

Especially not by some big wig who thinks he’s better than everyone

But despite that he can’t help but be tempted to know more about all of this

Throughout his entire run as Spider-Man the only other person he’s had is you

But even then you didn’t know the full potential and extent of what it’s like to have these powers

Now there are literal hundreds of thousands who know

Some of which he can’t help but think would be cool to meet, especially since there had to be others like him

So for now he agrees but not before giving you the heads up first

Especially since he doesn’t trust Miguel and whatever the hell he was talking about with “canon events”

All you ask is that he gets back safe at the end of the day and tell you all about what he’s seen

He smiles and gives you a kiss before leaving through a portal via a bracket of sorts

What he quickly learns whilst at spider HQ is that for every spider-person a set destiny of events would happen to them

Some of which he recognizes in his own story

But one that didn’t was you

His love for you goes against the bullshit of whatever canon decides is supposed to happen

Your not an M.J or a Gwen

Not some weird variant of them with a slightly altered name

Your you

Perfect, beautiful, amazingly caring you who has always been there for him when society spat on him

But when has he ever listened to authority?

So due to this he keeps mention of your name to none. Just sticking to the nicknames he’s given you when talking to others

Of all the spiders he meets he ends up to be pretty close friends to a small group of them

Gwen, Pavitr, and Mayday (by extension her father as well)

He even begins letting the Blond spider-woman crash at his place one learning her situation of going home

Warning you of not saying your actual name around her just in case as a precaution

But besides that you get along with her as well

She feels a bit awkward staying at his place considering he’s in a relationship but you assure her it’s fine

You trust her

And most importantly you trust him

Plus by how she was talking about “Miles” you had no real reason to worry

(Along with the fact her situation hit too close to home when Hobie ended up without a home for awhile and you were the only person he could turn to)

Gwen is welcome company especially as she and Hobie practice songs together while you all hang out

It’s fun watching

Especially since Hobie at some through focuses his attention on showing off whilst staring at you with his dumb smile

You can’t help but giggle afterwards as he make some comments about it

Meanwhile Gwen sitting nearby on the couch wondering if she should leave the room

Pavitr is another who ends up occasionally dropping by at Hobie’s who ends up meeting you

He’s a ray of sunshine who is bouncing with joy once seeing you and Hobie

He comments on the “beautiful chemistry” while Gwen sighs

During hangouts Pavitr tends to talk with you about what it’s like in his dimension and the differences between here and there

It’s actually pretty cool

Especially as he occasionally brings snacks and drinks for everyone to try as he talks about his Aunt preparing them

He might or might not have let it slip that Hobie constantly talks about you to everyone who will listen

Which he then absolutely gushes about being super adorable

What he finds even more adorable are the songs Hobie wrote that are obviously about you

Yet at the time he wrote them you kept thinking otherwise

You swear Pavitr somehow knows every nerdy fact know to man

He might’ve taught you how to use string to create stuff

And then he squeals when he finds out you did what he taught you and made it a gift to Hobie

He is both your and Hobie’s number one supporter

Hobie says he brings Mayday over to “teach her about anarchy” but you have a feeling it’s really so Peter can spend some time with his wife

Not that your complaining thought since Mayday is adorable

The little redhead is climbing up the walls and parading her knitted Spider-Man hat as if it were a priceless treasure (which it is)

She absolutely loves Hobie and you

Sometimes he lets her play with a little “drum” set he made with some cans and junk

She loves it, partially cause she loves causing chaos

Which he approves of

When he tuckers her out she goes to you

You gently hold her and lay her to bed

Peter secretly pays you for this cause Hobie refuses to take the money

Miguel is a name you hear a lot in passing but you’d luckily never met him (yet)

You have a feeling it wouldn’t end up well

Especially since you aren’t an “M.J” or Gwen

But you know for a fact if it did end up in a fight Hobie would be at your side

He’s not listening to some goth Garfield who thinks he’s automatically in charge of everyone just because he figured out multiverse travel first

Especially not when Hobie sees the guy has a few screws loose

He just has to wait for the right moment though

Besides, what’s more punk than sticking it to the man for someone you love?

#hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader

[llolianarchives]

The Prefect and The Draconia

A short overview of the Ramshackle prefect and their strange (but kind) horned fellow friend: as seen through the eyes of outsiders.

(A/N: #Malleyuu notes with an OC but feel free to project. We're all delulu here ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭ )

His Henchman is crazy.

Or at least, that's what Grim thinks when he's woken up at sunrise to Yue's bizarre ramblings. Something about the time being 1 AM, then fireflies at night, and a tall, horned figure – is what he takes from their babble amidst his own groans and pleas to return to sleep. He'd think them delirious from slumber, mumbling about another dream, if it weren't for the way Yue's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. Grim yields, in the end, for one of the many things he's learned about his reliable servant is that they can be awfully enthusiastic when it comes to this world's curiosities.

“He told me to call him whatever I want,” Yue continues, ruffling Grim's fur dry with a clean rag. Before he could insert magnificent ideas of his own, they beat him to it with a soft smile on their lips.

“I'm thinking of naming him Nyx: the personification of the night. What do you think?”

“What? Because he only shows up at night?” Like some wacky cryptid.

“Yup.”

He hears his henchman forgo the brush, letting it clatter loudly against the table.

“Hm... Nyx, huh...” Grim falls into thought, testing the name on his tongue like premium quality tuna. He doesn't even notice how Yue ties the striped ribbon around his neck. Triumphant, he turns to them with a grin.

“That's not half-bad, Henchman! It's cool and mysterious. Not as cool and mysterious as me, of course, but I'd say it's a close second!”

“Naturally. I wouldn't dare bestow a name mightier than the Great Grim's.”

Despite the stream of praise his henchman delivers (which he pleasantly basks in), Yue eventually derails, returning to speak of the horned man yet again. What Grim's superior brain gathers is this: One, this Nyx guy is super weird. Two, Yue's interest has been piqued like no other before.

He'll demand some omurice as payment for his counsel later on.

. . .

Malleus has made a friend.

The news was dropped onto Lilia's lap rather unceremoniously when one night, the Young Lord—having just returned from another evening excursion, went to sit with him in the Diasomnia lounge. This time, however, the quaintest of smiles adorned his face... It was an unusual sight but certainly not unwelcome. And much like any doting parent, his curiosity led him to ask.

Malleus had replied with a question of his own.

"Lilia, do you know of the Prefect that resides in Ramshackle Dorm?"

"Yue? Why yes, of course. I've spoken to them once or twice. They made quite a show during the Ceremony."

Yue— Lilia soon comes to learn— is completely unaware of Malleus's identity as a prince and a figure of authority, of power. As such, they bear no fear for him, even going so far as to bestow him a pet name, of all things.

(“Nyx? As in the night spirit? How fitting.")

Thus began the pattern of Lilia covering for Malleus's nighttime absence, not daring to ask nor scold when the prince would return in strange and stranger states.

When he would return to the dormitory partially caked with dirt and mud (a consequence of helping the prefect with their little garden of life.) Or when he would return with a box of homemade cake, a pretty stone from their walks, a drawing of him supposedly made by the prefect's beast, and with inquiries of the complexities of human nature.

Sometimes, Lilia can't help but feel a bit guilty, constantly boring witness to Silver and Sebek's searches into the night.

Yet that sliver of guilt fades, in the end, when Malleus smiles more often than before, when he approaches Lilia in the winter with the request of delivering a Holiday Card.

As he watches the magicless human rush into their abode, card in hand, ghosts and Grim awaiting their entrance...

he has never felt prouder and more grateful for fate.

. . .

From a distance, Vil watches.

He watches as the feared Briar Prince lets a small, feeble human talk his ear off, calm and unresisting, a hand on his chin as he ponders along Yue's barrage of words. He gives the prefect full reign of the conversation. He lets himself be taken away by their stories and details. He lets them speak, which they do.

Just after the horrors, highs, lows, and thrills of the VDC, the two chat as if nothing even happened. The onslaught of it all feels like a fever dream to Vil. First, the mental toll of overblotting, then their loss to RSA's nursery rhyme performance, and now the shocking reveal of Yue (innocent, bold, mundane little Yue) and Malleus Draconia's relationship.

He isn't even sure what to make of it. They're clearly friends, yet Vil can't bring himself to chalk it up to just that. His years and years of showbiz cinema has taught him the ins and outs of body language. He watches. He sees:

There's the smiles on both their faces; cheeks raised taut, dimples carved with genuine laughter. There's that glimmer in Yue's eyes and the odd tenderness of Malleus's own, both gazes locked onto one another with an undisturbed focus. There's the fact that Yue had given him an invitation to the VDC, or that Malleus had fixed the stage partially to show off to the magicless human, or that their hands are currently mere centimeters away from each other.

In the end, Vil averts his gaze, weariness crashing into him all at once and he feels a pair of hands grasp onto his shoulders, keeping him standing. Rook smiles, gentle, knowing, annoying. Vil resigns to his whims and lets his Huntsman guide him back to the Pomefiore Dorm, the chatter of Yue and Malleus and everyone else fading away.

#theyre so silly #so pookie #theyre so wholesome in my mind<3 #dont you love it when its mainly platonic but maybe something more? #yue-lorren #idk im just having fun #twst #twisted wonderland #yuu twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #lilia vanrouge #grim twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #rlly not a good time tho #the diasomnia chapter is WRECKING ME #i might write something for it soon enough #the-night-and-the-moon #inkless-printer #twst x oc #malleyuu #yuusona

[katebishopsbow]

PLEASE MORE CHARLES SISTER READER !! i loved it so much. could you maybe do like a young middle teen sister reader who kinda has a grudge against charles for him never being around cause he was racing and then angst when they see each other again but it eventually turns to fluff/comfort? thank you i adore your stuff !!!

DAISY • CHARLES LECLERC

pairing: charles leclerc x sister!reader

summary: you and charles used to be inseparable, but with him constantly being away for all his races, an invisible wall began to form between you and him. it took a crash for you two to acknowledge what had happened, and try mending the broken pieces of your relationship.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunications, charles being absent from reader's life

word count: 3.1k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The first reactions whenever you revealed to people that Charles Leclerc was your brother had always been jealous glances, envious smiles, and words like “That must be so amazing!” And it was amazing indeed – Charles was amazing. So why did you feel so isolated, like you were stuck looming in the hidden shadows of your brother sometimes?

You tried to be understanding. Charles was incredibly talented in racing, and these few years would be the most crucial years of his life in climbing the ladder to Formula 1 – his biggest childhood dream. So whenever your parents would tell you with the most apologetic smiles that they might have to miss your events at school because Charles had an important race they had to attend, you didn’t cry, you didn’t throw a tantrum, you just nodded quietly and went back to your room.

It wasn’t your parents nor Charles’ fault – you knew that. You understood that your parents would never purposefully miss your events or neglect one child for the other, and Charles never wanted to make you feel like the less important one in the family. But somehow, it still stung to glance down at the audience at whatever school performance you were having and not see your parents or brother there, to feel like you were quietly fading into the background, to know that you would always be seen as an extension of Charles and never your own self.

Of course, Charles had noticed you becoming distant from the family – he always noticed everything. It pained him just as much as it upset you whenever he had to miss out on your life, and so he tried hard to be there when you needed it. On the rare days when he didn’t have training or a race lined up, he would offer to take you out for a little “sibling date” and try making up for the times he wasn’t there for you. While you appreciated his effort, there was no denying that an invisible wall had developed between you two, dividing you and your brother with all your missed events and unspoken words. 

How could you tell Charles that because of him, you felt like you were not seen? How could you tell him that it felt like his dreams and achievements took center stage of the family while yours had become shoved back in the dimmed shadows? How could you tell him that when you looked at him, you saw a stranger, that the bond that once firmly held you two together had begun to feel oddly unfamiliar? You simply couldn’t. 

The wall continued to grow as the years went on, acting as a constant reminder that things between you two could never quite be the same. Your parents would always say to your relatives that you and Charles were such good kids because you two rarely fought. You were uncertain if that was really a good thing though – how could you fight when you barely even talk to each other?

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

There was a soft knocking on your door, and you didn’t need to ask to know who it was. “Go away, Charles,” you sighed exasperatedly, not wanting to speak to your brother just yet. He had done it once again – saying that he would come to your school’s drama performance but telling you last minute that he had an urgent meeting with his sponsor and couldn’t come. It wasn’t his fault that something suddenly came up, but it still hurt like hell, and it left you feeling like a complete idiot for believing for a second that you were more important to him than his race.

Despite your protest, he opened the door and came in anyway. “Hey, ange.” He still called you by your childhood nickname, but that word that once held so much endearment and affection only sounded foreign coming from his lips. “I thought since Mom and Dad won’t be home for dinner tonight, we could go to that restaurant that you like?” he asked with a tired smile, trying to make it up to you for missing your show.

“Just stop it, Charles,” you said to him, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. Your brother looked at you confusedly, the smile dropping from his face as he asked, “What do you mean?” You considered for a moment to stay silent and continue to conceal your true feelings, to keep acting like everything’s fine – but you were just so, so tired of pretending.

“Stop pretending that everything’s normal between us! Stop acting like you care, or that you aren’t gone most of the time!” For the first time in years, you yelled at him, voice cracking at the emotions that had stayed buried deep within you for the longest time. “It’s fine if you’re not going to be here, Charles, but then just please stay gone… don’t come back and give me all these false hopes when you’re just going to leave me again. Please…” You were already choked up by the time you finished your words, raw hurt and disappointment lacing through your pleas – a mixture of so much love and hate toward your brother.

Charles said nothing, he just stared at you silently while allowing your gun-wrenchingly painful words to set in. The boy hardly cried – not when he performed terribly in a race, not when he suffered a nasty sports injury, not even when he thought his journey to F1 was over when he almost got disqualified at a rather important race. But as he stood there in the doorway of your room, feeling the words stabbing into his heart, he thought he was going to fall apart and shatter into broken pieces.

“I’m sorry,” he let out a barely audible whisper, voice trembling from the guilt that weighed heavily on his chest. Hearing your cries made his heart clench with pain, and it hurt him even more knowing that he was the cause of it all. When you were kids, the two of you always joked that he was going to beat up any boy who would dare break your heart. It was a cruel twist of fate that he, the person who had vowed to protect you, had become the very person to cause you heartbreak, and that realization killed him inside.

Knowing that nothing he said could make things right at this point, he glanced at you one last time before leaving your room. That night while you soaked through your pillow with tears and heartache, in your brother’s room at the other end of the hallway, Charles was crying silently beneath his sheets too. 

Two hearts were broken that night, with both of you mourning the shattered pieces of your once unbreakable bond.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. 

The air was humid when your parents and you arrived at the circuit, rain pouring heavily as the scent of wet gravel loomed over the track like a bad omen. Flying halfway across the world to watch Charles’ race wasn’t initially in your summer plans, but your parents insisted that it would be fun to travel as a family. So alas, here you were, standing amidst the rain-soaked circuit to support Charles in the pursuit of his racing dreams.

“Mom! Dad!” The excited voice of your brother could be heard in the distance, and Charles sprinted through the rain to give your parents a quick hug. Then when his gaze shifted towards you, he gave you a slight smile – one that hovered on the edge of awkwardness. “Hey, ange. Thank you for coming,” he said, and you flinched when you sensed the subtle tension of your past conflict lingering around the air.

The two of you never mentioned that night again, pretending it never happened for the fear of reopening wounds that you both knew would never really heal. So you went back to your old routine – with Charles chasing his racing dreams in the bright limelights and you disappearing back into the shadows where the world couldn’t see you. It was less frightening that way, not having to face your fears and be honest about your feelings, to admit how much you missed each other.

“It’s fine – no big deal,” you answered, returning a tight-lipped smile with a shrug of your shoulders. Perhaps Charles was overanalyzing things like he always did, but he felt a punch to his gut upon hearing what you said to him. Having you there at his race to support him wasn’t “no big deal”, because to him it had meant the world.

He wanted to win the race and make you proud, to dedicate his victory to the most important people in his life, to celebrate the moment with you – his best friend and biggest supporter since day one. Though it seemed that this meant much less to you than it did to him, and despite the sadness that clouded over him, he didn’t let his smile falter.

“Well, I’d better head back soon,” he announced quickly as he glanced at the time, accepting the doting kisses and hugs from your mother before walking off into the pouring rain again. You watched as he disappeared into the distance, the “good luck out there” you had intended to say lingering at the tip of your tongue, joining the countless other unspoken words between you and Charles.

The rain had never really gone well with car racing, for the wet conditions reduce traction and control, turning the track into a treacherous playground with accidents waiting to happen. Your parents and you spectated the race from the garage, and you couldn’t help the unsettlement that consumed you as you watched your brother drive, more aggressively than usual.

Sure, Charles had always been a competitive person who wasn’t afraid to take risks on track, but not like this – never like this. It was on a particularly sharp corner when disaster struck. Charles, attempting to overtake the person in front of him, pushed the limits just a fraction too far causing his tires to lose grip, and his car spun out of control.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen Charles crash – he had his fair share of incidents throughout his karting days – but the horror and utter helplessness, as you watched his car hurtle towards the barrier as if time had slowed down, was just as bad as the first. 

The piercing sound of screeching tires and colliding metals reverberated through the air, and you held your breath as you braced for the absolute worst – something you learned to do when your family was a part of the dangerous world of motorsports. When Charles’s car settled to a stop, only having a minor collision with the wall instead of a serious crash, you made sure to thank all the Gods in existence as you exhaled a relieved sigh.

Charles staggered out of the car looking relatively unscathed, holding a thumbs-up to signal he was alright and not severely injured as he awaited for assistance. Without hesitation, you headed straight towards the medical center when you watched Charles leave the scene with the medics, not only to check on him but to give him a proper scolding for driving so recklessly.

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc, what were you thinking?” you exclaimed as you made your way to Charles’s bed, feeling a palpable ache in your chest when you noticed the scratches on his face and the bandaged gash on his forehead. “How could you drive so recklessly…?” you asked again, your voice significantly weaker than before – how could you still be mad at him when he was already hurt?

Charles’s head dropped down in remorse after hearing what you had said, it’s only when the adrenaline during the race faded away that he realized how irresponsible he had been. “I’m sorry… I just really wanted to win and... make you proud.” You didn’t expect such an answer from him, finding it hard to fathom that your brother wanted you to be proud of him so badly that he was willing to jeopardize his safety. 

How could you begin to express how proud you were of him – so proud that every time you thought of him your heart swelled with uncontainable joy, that seeing him race filled you with so much admiration and respect, that even with all that happened between you two, he was still your biggest role model who taught you everything you needed to know in life.

“Please don’t be mad at me, ange. Here, look at what I got you…” he said to you before reaching into one of the hidden pockets of his race suit, pulling out a little flower. A daisy – your favourite. It was missing a few petals, slightly mushed up, and the stem was bent at an odd angle, but it was the most perfect daisy you had ever laid eyes on. 

“I saw it at the field before the race started and thought of you. You told me they were your favourite flower when we were kids, right?” he asked albeit already knowing the answer – they were indeed your favourite flower. “Charles…” you muttered in a hushed whisper, and you genuinely feared that you would start uncontrollably sobbing. 

He had remembered. It was a warm spring afternoon when the two of you wandered into a grass field, playing an intense game of tag when you suddenly got distracted by a little white flower that adorned the ground – delicate and so, so pretty. “Charles, what kind of flower is this?” you said to your brother, to which he answered, “These are called daisies.” You studied the flower carefully, admiring its beautiful white petals and soft yellow center, and that’s when you decided, “This is my favourite flower.” 

Charles chuckled beside you and teased, “You say that to every flower!” When you smacked his arm jokingly with an annoyed pout on your face, he pretended to yelp in pain and raised his hands in surrender, “Okay, okay! Whatever you say, mon ange.” The two of you erupted into a giggling fit and resumed your game of tag – the game you never seemed to lose because Charles would always let you win.

It was a precious memory you held dearly in your heart, a distant thought that you remembered with such fondness. The simple times when you and Charles were still close as ever, when he didn’t have to constantly be away because of his races and you didn’t push him away every chance you got, before all the unexpressed thoughts and misunderstandings had created a barrier between you two. You had always thought that Charles had long forgotten about it, but now you realized that the memory held a special place in his heart as well, and it made you want to burst into tears.

“Charles, I’m –” you hesitated, almost like you had forgotten how to be honest or vulnerable in front of your brother, but you knew you would never be able to get the words out if you didn’t do it now. “I’m sorry – for pushing you away, for not making an effort to fix things between us… And I’m scared, so scared that if I try, my effort won’t be good enough, and then I’ll have no choice but to watch you leave, ” you let out a sigh while keeping your gaze trained on the flower in your hand, knowing well that if you looked at your brother, you would start crying, and you weren’t sure if the tears would ever stop.

Charles’ face softened at your apology, shaking his head vehemently because he never once blamed you for anything that happened. “No, ange, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry for not being there for you and for ever making you feel unimportant, because you mean the absolute world to me… It’s my fault for not being the older brother that you deserved, and I want to do better, for you,” he admitted truthfully, taking the blame for all the hurt he had caused you over the years for being absent.

When you lifted your gaze to meet his own teary eyes, for the first time in forever, you felt… seen. You had gotten so used to being invisible, letting yourself fade away in the distance as the haunting loneliness swallowed you whole. But with Charles, you didn’t feel invisible, you felt like he could see you – the real you, down to every flaw and every insecurity, and instead of judgment, you could only feel acceptance and love.

Charles had always seen you, and remembered every little detail about you – even the small, unimportant things that you presumed nobody would care enough to notice. To him, you were not a mere extension of him like the world had always seen you as – Charles Leclerc’s sister. To him, you were your own person with your own goals and aspirations, with a heart so big it could embrace the world. You were his best friend, the one who knew him like nobody else, the only person who could understand all his unfunny jokes and odd sense of humor, and he loved every fiber of your being with every fiber of his.

“I love you more than anything, you know that right?” he asked while looking into your eyes, he was not going to let any more unsaid words get between the two of you again. You nodded your head at his question, because despite all your distance and miscommunications, you had always known you were loved. “I know.”

“And you know that I will always be proud of you regardless, right?” It was your turn to ask him, and Charles stayed quiet for a few seconds to think. In the world of racing and its harsh realities, your value was measured by your achievements – you performed well, and the world would love you. Charles had gotten used to that way of things, and so he pushed himself harder and harder each time on track for the fear of making a mistake and being discarded by the world. But with you, with your family, he knew that he would always make you guys proud. “I know,” he smiled.

“We’re gonna fix this, ange,” he said as he reached for your hands. His fingers felt calloused and rough, unlike the hands you had always held onto back when you were kids, but somehow it had felt so familiar, so comforting, so like Charles – those same hands that held yours when you two were running across the field, the one with all the beautiful daisies.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #f1 x you

[save-the-villainous-cat]

ruthless hero who destroys everyone verbally, doesnt take shit + chatty villain who just grins and loves banter(if its not too much) have a great day!

The hero swallowed.

Although the gun was shaking in their hand, they took in a deep breath and steadied their mind. No time for second thoughts.

This was it. They’d been searching for the villain for weeks now. They’d finally found them and they were not going to let them escape again.

“Oh?” the villain asked. They eyed the hero carefully, as if the hero was the object of their attention instead of the gun. They were sitting on the couch in their lair with all the casualness in the world. “Aren’t you a little too confident for your own good, darling?”

“Aren’t you?”

The villain cocked their head and the grin followed as so often. They stood up slowly and raised their hands but despite their actions of surrender, they were clearly mocking the hero.

“Mhmm. That’s how it is, I see. How spunky you can be…”

Determined, the hero took their handcuffs and threw them into the villain’s direction. Even though the villain seemed to be more confused than intrigued, they caught and inspected them.

“Cuff yourself,” the hero said.

“Gosh, you can be so kinky.”

“And you’ll be bleeding out in a few seconds if you don’t do as I say.” Their grip around the gun tightened. It didn’t matter that the villain had saved them so many times. It didn’t matter that they were occasionally nice.

It didn’t matter because the hero had a job to do.

They had to arrest them.

The villain rolled their eyes.

“All bark, no bite.”

“Would you like to find out? I recall breaking your arm pretty easily,” the hero said. They were aiming at the villain’s shoulder and slowly, very slowly, their anxiousness faded. It was a job like every other.

A villain, just like all the others.

Shooting at them in this moment seemed irrational. They weren’t a threat nor were they extraordinarily provoking them. Of course the hero knew it would be difficult to explain to the team how the villain had surrendered without much of a struggle.

They had to find a solution to that later.

“Mistakes happen in the heat of the moment. I understand you were distracted by my muscles flexing during the fight.” The villain was in a good mood, as so often. But the hero could also sense some sort of uncertainty.

It was in the movement of their fingers that traced the handcuffs. In their restless eyes that went over the hero again and again. If they wanted to admit it or not, the hero had surprised them.

And that was something the villain absolutely despised. Surprises. Not being in control. Not knowing what happens next.

“I can assure you it was intentional. Your muscles aren’t that special.”

“Ouch.” The villain contorted their face as if they were truly hurt. The mockery should’ve made it easier. But it didn’t.

The hero turned off the gun’s safety.

“Handcuffs. Now.”

“Fine.” The villain cuffed themselves, one wrist after the other. Once they were finished, they stretched their arms out and presented themselves. “Am I not the sweetest present?”

“The most annoying, definitely. Sit down.” The villain did as the hero commanded and leaned back, pushing their hips forward. Lounging like that was definitely not what the hero wanted them to do.

They’d been chasing the villain for weeks and they were determined to put them behind bars. Whatever had happened in the past, it was gone now. The hero had let go of it and could only pray the villain had done that too.

“We’ll wait here until my team arrives.”

“I suppose that’s enough time for me to escape. You know you love our little hide-and-seek game.” Their smile was genuine and sweet. The hero didn’t know what to make of that.

“No, this is it. It’s over. I can’t let you go.”

“But you will. You’re still so soft for me.”

“You’re really not as important to me as you think.” Then why are you hesitating?

“You’re not as cold as you think,” the villain said. “Not when it comes to me.”

They jiggled with the handcuffs. The hero could hear their own pulse.

“Just tell your team it was a good fight and I escaped, hm? Just like last time,” the villain suggested. Sweat was running down the hero’s back. Their fingers were ice cold.

“I cannot do that.”

“You’ve done it before, darling,” the villain said. “As long as I can walk, I can still escape. You know I’m skilled enough to do that.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“I enjoy my time with you,” the villain said. They looked at the ground. “…and I still have feelings for you.”

The hero felt sick in their stomach.

“I wish you hadn’t said that.” Suddenly, the hero lowered their gun and pulled the trigger. They couldn’t let them escape again. They couldn’t put their own feelings before their responsibilities. As soon as they pulled the trigger, they regretted it.

Their heavy heart sank fast.

They hoped one day they could forget the villain’s reaction when the bullet entered their knee. That stare of utter fear and betrayal. That scream and those tears of pain.

But that would haunt them forever.

#doesn’t matter doesn’t matter you had the gun #(​they were lovers at some point btw) #hope this is what you meant #didn’t really get the dynamic right it’s very late I hope you’re not mad at me lol #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #lil bit of #angst

[mvybanks]

hey love! can I request prompt "please don't leave me" with jj? if you are comfortable of course. maybe reader is getting through a depressive mood and he's there for her (my depression has been kicking my ass lately 🙃) thank u<3

the one where jj helps you heal (jj x routledge!reader)

a/n: hiii, i just wanted to say that if you think this isn’t okay or that it may offend someone please tell me and i’ll delete it immediately. i loved this request and i hope i gave it some justice (also i know it wasn’t in the request but i decided to make it a routledge!reader blurb, i hope it’s okay)

warnings: depression

my masterlist

the incessant ringing of his phone wakes him up in the middle of the night, a loud groan leaving his lips as he can’t understand why someone would call him at this time.

3 a.m.

that’s what jj’s phone reads as he picks it up and john b’s name appears on the screen.

“what?” his tone is annoyed and his voice is sleepy, but who wouldn’t be so late at night?

“jj, it’s bad,” the shakiness in his best friend’s voice makes him sit up as panic starts to wake him up, “come here. please. i - i think she needs you.”

as soon as those words leave his mouth, jj is already putting his shoes on, a quick ‘i’ll be there in 5’ is whispered as a reflex, but his voice is firm. he knew john b was talking about you, the only she he could’ve mentioned that would made his instincts kick in immediately. john b might hate the closeness between his sister and his best friend, but in that moment he knew that you needed jj, the only one who’s ever been able to understand you.

when he arrives at his friend’s house, jj runs inside and the sight of john b sitting on the ground covering your shaking body sends a shiver up his spine. ‘is she hurt?’, ‘did someone touch her?’, ‘is she okay?’

a thousands of questions fill his mind when john b finally walks over to him, his face full of concern.

“i can’t calm her down, she won’t listen to me.”

jj finally takes a look at you, everything in him aches and he wishes he could take all your pain because you don’t deserve it. he rushes to you and kneels in front of you on the ground.

“hey, angel,” his voice is soft as he uses that nickname that he knows you love, “can you look at me, please?”

you lift your head as jj’s voice starts to become more clear, the sound of your gasps fading away.

“there she is. can i touch you, angel? is that okay?”

you nod and you already know what he’s about to do, your heart already slowing down at the thought. he places his hands on your cheeks and brings your face close to him as he touches your forehead with his.

“to take half of your headaches, right? ‘cause you know you never have to do this alone, i’m here.”

you start crying again, thinking you don’t deserve him, but the feeling of his thumbs stroking your cheeks grounds you.

“can i hold you?” the amount of love laced in his voice makes you cry even harder as you nod once at his question.

he doesn’t waste a second before he cradles you in his arms, rocking your body back and forth, as his lips never leave your forehead, giving sweet pecks from time to time on the sweat-coated skin.

“it’s too much, i can’t do this,” you keep repeating and his heart breaks each time, his arms tightening around you, scared that if he doesn’t hold you against him you might disappear.

“i’m right here. i’ve got you,” he whispers and you hold onto him as hard as you can.

“please don’t leave me,” you mumble against his tear-stained neck. he carries you to bed, your skin never leaving his, your bodies stuck together and neither of you dares nor wants to have some space.

“never. i will never leave you. i love you so much, angel.”

his words heal part of your aching heart and you know that even if things get bad again, he’ll be there holding your hand and helping you get through it.

#jj maybank #obx #outer banks #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x routledge!reader #request

[narcissarina]

Hellooo pookie! :D

Could you write a fic about Re2 Leon, like a really lovey dovey one where he's a rookie and he falls in love with his lieutenant or something like that? 🧘

Hello, babyyyy. Yes I could write something like that but I swear I read a similar fanfic about it. And yes it's a leon fanfiction too, but I hope I did well ^^!!!

Here's part 2 if anyones looking for it

𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐴𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒖𝒕𝒚.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,961 (mf wrote a whole oneshot🥲🥲)

Leon heard that someone transferred to R.P.D, he doesn’t know who nor what rank they are but he reckons that it’s someone with high respect if he see his buddies getting worked up and actually doing something.

The boy had his head bowed in his desk, it’s been just two days when he was warmly welcomed, it was his first day and it was very memorable. His eyes were heavy and almost took a nap when someone slammed a file on to his desk, “wake up, rookie.” One of his co-workers said with a smile on his face.

They all heard a car pulled up, all of them got tense as one of Leon’s buddies kick him out of his chair and stand up. The room was silent and the car engine died, he could see an officer jogging up the small stair and opened a door for a someone.

It was you.

You had a long leathered black coat and wore a sunglasses, the aura you’re giving is dark and intimidating. You take a look around before turning to one of the officers, “This is R.P.D?” you asked, your tone flat and strong. A female officer nodded at your statement and flashes you a smile, “yes, ma’am. Do you like the interior..?”

Leon swore he heard a scoff, “it’s a mess, take that down and you all shouldn’t have bothered decorating, we have a job to do. Chop-chop.” You clapped your hand as the others rushes what they’re doing, the female and male officer led you to your office and made you familiarize around the area.

Heels clicking as they faded quickly to the background, Leon found himself standing idly and frozen when his friend bump into him. “Don’t you have work to do?” he asked Leon in a nervous tone, “I’ve already done my part.” Leon whisper back to his friend.

“If the Lieutenant heard you two whispering and not doing any work, you guys are fucked.” His other friend bothered to turn his head just to warn Leon and the other. Before the black haired guy leaves Leon to do his work, he got a grasp of his arm, “that’s Lieutenant?” he asked.

“Yeah, and if I were you. I wouldn’t make eye contact with her.” He says and left, getting his documents done. Leon was left alone standing beside his desk, he sat and think for a moment.

The moment he caught your eyes, he felt his heart skip a beat. Your voice was simply beautiful and angelic to him, is he falling for his Lieutenant thats just new to R.P.D? His thoughts were swirling as he felt his cheeks burning crimson, he feels like a little boy who has a big crush on someone and act like a little puppy.

While you were flipping through files and files, “wrong, wrong, redo.” You mutter, letting the two nervous officer hear your disapproval. “Not enough, now go.” Clicking your fingers together and scoot them away from your sight, you think there is just so much mess in this station and it needs fixing and more organizing.

You lean down to one officer and stare at the monitor, “I need people to patrol this area.” You point to the bottom right of the screen and beside it, “yes, ma’am!” Leon could hear they’re super nervous and scared of you, why? He’s just resting his elbow on top of his desk and resting his cheek with both of his palms.

Your eyes shot to him, thinking to yourself that there’s one officer who’s just chilling and doing nothing, you tap on a random officers shoulder—not bothering what they look like or get their name, “who’s that?” you asked, “oh, that’s Leon. He just started two days ago, a rookie.” You nod at their words and dismiss them.

Heels click and Leon heard them, he tensed up as he felt your presence behind him. The boy slowly turns and looks at you in the eye, maintaining an eye contact which most of the officer couldn’t do. “Rookie?” you called.

He stood up straight and put his heels together, “yes, Lieutenant?” his voice almost squeaked as he spoke, “why am I not seeing you work, Mr. Kennedy?” you knit your brows together but you’re not frowning at him. His heart race as you stood close to him, your arms folded and you shift your weight to your left.

Silence filled the room, it was eerie as the other officers prayed for Leon’s being. He spoke with a nervous smile, “I just finish my part..?” you nod at his words, thinking at the back of your head if this rookie is playing games with you.

You tut his words and let out a sigh, “is that so?” he nods, standing straight as he adjust his uniform. He was intimidated but felt his stomach flutter. “Nope, I heard that excuse before, rookie.”

He swallowed his saliva, his adams apple bobbing as he do so, before you could speak another word—someone cut you off, “ma’am we got a noise complaint…” said a female officer, you nodded and look at him. “You go, rookie. Since you don’t have anything to do.” You flash him back with a smile, he chuckles and salute you, “yes!” before heading off.

Now that you have him gone and run some errands, you got back to exploring the place once more as officers rushes to you to give you their printed document to get approved on.

You never know this, but each day. Leon’s adoration for you grew stronger, you were oblivious to Leon crushing on you. He just felt so warm and fuzzy and he loves it, the way your eyes met his to either scold him for bringing in a wrong document or that there’s errors in his reports—he didn’t mind that, he just loves to hear your voice and your attention to him even if it means he did frequent mistakes.

Gifts also started dropping off on the doorstep of your office, you once asked all of them, “who gifted this to me?” but they all shake their head, not knowing who keeps dropping gifts on your office doorstep. Leon made sure that no one sees him dropping them off though, otherwise he's caught.

He would get to work early so he could drop them off, then watch your face in a frown or confusion as you read the note that was attached. Making you grow curious who is it from.

This continues, and of course. Your nagging continues to Leon, he just grew to love it. He has his head bow on his table, you slam the file down as he flew back to his chair and rub his eyes with his wrist, “listen here, rookie. I don’t tolerate too much mistakes when you’re under my care.” You frown at him, grabbing the two of his armrest and pushed him back to his desk, the others just focused on their work and pretend they didn’t see a thing.

“The file you just turned in? It was good, but too many errors and I need you to redo them, asap.” You grit your teeth but try not to be too intimidating, Leon just looks at you in the eyes with love and adoration, you were cute when you’re mad. You see something in his eyes and sigh, you let go of him and mind your posture.

“Look,” you turn his chair and pushed him back at his desk, open the file he turned in and took a red pen from his desk. “This is fine, but this and this are…” you guide him through this and point out what he needs to do and how he properly does it, surprisingly, he listen to every word you said and nodded each time you asked him, “do you get that?”

It took a minute and Leon didn’t realize that you were leaning over his shoulder. He froze in place and feel his ears and cheek heat up, “I’ll be expecting you to redo this and turn it in, okay?” you spoke to him, finding anything in his eyes but you found none but his adoration for you.

“Leon, I’m not that scary, okay?” you sound like as if you’re talking to a child, “but if there is something that you’re having troubled with, you can come to me and I’ll guide you.” You added and pat his shoulder as you pull yourself together, “do you understand rookie?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He flashes as grin.

“Good boy, now keep up a good work.”

You turn your heels and walked away, returning to your office and plan things here and there. Leon blushes and lightly slam his forehead against his desk and brush his fingertips against his shoulder—where you were almost brushing against him.

He was too zoned out about you calling him a good boy as he earned a hard slap on his back, “g— fuck!” he curses and put his hand where it hurts and stings, “ow?!” he faces his buddies as they sat next to him, “the Lieutenants into you.” One spoke with a donut in hand, “I mean, why wouldn’t you go after her. She had a whole cake packing.”

“what cake?”

You just earned two screams and yelp from the two officers beside Leon, “Lieutenant…” his friend from the right swallows his saliva while the other put the whole donut inside his mouth, “do you two have cake? I would love to have one.” You hum, raising an eyebrow as you await for their response.

“N-No, n-no ca—”

“We just finished eating it, sorry we didn’t gave you one, Lieutenant.”

Leon saw a sad frown planted on your face but manage to keep your cool back, “it’s all right, I hope the cake you two ate is Red Velvet,” you nod at them, Leon open his mouth and asked, “is red velvet your favorite?” your attention to the blonde boy, “yes it is, now focus on your report Mr. Kennedy.”

And with that, you walked away again.

After that conversation, Leon got better at handing you his reports and documents—once he was assured that he can turn to you without having trouble to make up some mistakes to have a reason for your attention, he’ll ask for your help and feel your chest at the back of his head. When he does a good job, you praise him and give him a pinch in the cheek which you grew accustomed on.

Leon looked forward every time your hand made contact with his face, either giving him a pinch or gently pat. He’s so god damn in love that he’ll cover up your murder for you if you ever murder someone…

He wants more though, he wants to be able to hold your hand, grab you by the waist or bury his head on the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent that he'll grew to love. He was a puppy in love, you noticed his behavior and made him run errands for you: getting you your coffee, driving to your favorite café to get your favorite snacks.

You noticed how much he acts like a puppy when with you, but when he’s with his co-workers nor friends. He is chill and could look at them in the eye and hold conversation, but with you? He’s a stuttering mess and couldn’t hold eye contact for more than five minutes.

You waited him to make his move, you step inside the station as you were greeted with three officers inside as they always arrived early. Leon is having his nap to his cubicle, he looks so peaceful and unbothered by the bright light inside the station.

Your heels clicked and wall to your officer and dangle your key, you feel eyes on you as you quickly turn your head and catch a glimpse of Leon eyeing on you then quickly bow his head to his desk and pretend to be napping. You look down at the ground on cue as if you knew there will be another gift for you.

It was a red velvet cake, didn’t you just say that you love red velvet a few days ago with Leon’s friends?

You took it in and place it in your desk, Leon was watching and chuckling to himself like a kid that’s been falling hard.

Few hours later.

The station became busy again for the day, Leon is doing the best he can to help his co-workers with papers when they need him to double-check the files they’d be turning in. Since they all knew that Leon hasn’t been scolded for these fast few weeks. They wouldn’t be dealing with your intimidating remark and can handle Leon’s kind and soft words.

“oh no, you need to change this.” He points to the mistake that the female officer has, then another file was shoved in to his face. “This is good but this seems unnecessary.” He circles around the thing that needs to be removed in the males officers report.

Leon was packed with officers and files in his desk, someone taps his shoulder, “Lieutenant wishes to see you in her office.” Then walked off, they all look defeated and sulk at the sudden need of the Lieutenant to Leon.

A smile flashes to his face and stood up, “thank you,” he said and hold back his excitement when he walks towards your office door, he knocks and waited. “Come in,” and he did.

“Quite packed, huh?” you remark, looking up at him as you held the small cake in your hand and a spoon to the other, “they’re approaching you rather me,” you said and sliced a piece and ate it.

“It was… fine.” Leon said and closes the door behind him, “you need me for something, ma’am?”

“oh no, I just got made an excuse to get you away from the crowd.”

This made Leon smile as you were considerate to him, “although, I do need to clarify something.” You gesture to him to sit on the chair, he sat and tense up.

“Yes?”

“Were you the one who’s been dropping gifts on my office doorstep lately?”

His heart dropped, his heart race and he looked down. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Leon, I installed a small camera on the door, I literally saw you putting down the cake and getting all giggly when you put the note in.”

Ah, he was caught. He got no more excuses so he confess, “yes… I did…” he mutter, he looks like a dejected puppy that’s going to get his punishment, “don’t you like them?”

“it’s cute and all, but you’re getting distracted from work, honey.” You lift his chin to make him look at you in the eyes, the pet name craved at the back of his head—your hand touching his chin, good god he’s fucking melting right under your touch.

The sight made you smile as you put the pieces together, “your reports and files that you turn in are quite an improvement, there are no mistakes nor unnecessary things in them.” You could imagine him having a tail and wiggling it when you praises his works, mostly importantly—praise him.

“You did good today, haven’t you?” you teased him, you could feel him tremble under your touch, “been a good boy too, helping his co-workers because they don’t want to face a big and mean Lieutenant.” You act as if you were literally talking to a child when Leon is a grown ass man.

His nails digging to his knees and nodded, “not mean…” he mutters, “what’s that?” you grab a hold of his chin and made him look at you directly, “You’re not mean, you’re lovely…” Leon mutter and you squish his cheeks together, you hum at his words and sat down to your desk.

“Is mr. Kennedy confessing?”

You tease him, as he holds himself back. Your thumb caressing his cheek and pushing a strand of hair out of his face. He grit his teeth and couldn’t hold himself back, you were caught off guard when he quickly got up from his sit and pushed you back to your desk and bury himself on the crook of your neck. Finally inhaling your scent and melt on top of you.

You two were silent as you pat him in the back, “good boy.” God that two words definitely made him melt more as you mistake it that he’s wagging his tail like an excited dog. “Want you…” you heard him, his lips brushing against your ear as he looks up at you and brush his nose to yours as he leans in to kiss your lips.

You didn’t resist and kissed back, your hand gripping on to his shoulder and the other on his bicep. He held you by the waist, you didn’t knew his hands would be massive too, he’s melting to everything. Your lips, your touch, your voice, everything. He is worshipping the ground you’re standing.

“not today,” you stopped him as he pulled himself from your lips, he sulks and looks like a sad little puppy that didn’t get his treat. “Not until you finally proved yourself to me, Leon.” You hum, cupping his cheek and pinching it again.

He smiles and nodded, saying he’d do everything to prove himself to you—you don’t know how much he’ll pour his entire soul to love you and please you and fit to your standard. He never thought that his silent affection would come to this, but it did and it worked.

He's yours and he’s going to do his best to make you his.

OK OK OK, I LOVE HOW THIS TURNED OUT!??!?!??! It turned out like an office romance lol. I HOPE I DID WELL!!! Reblogs and asks are appreciated <33

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #↬ɴᴀʀᴄɪssᴀʀɪɴᴀ✿ᴘᴇᴘᴛᴀʟᴋs/ᴀsᴋsდ #leon re2 #resident evil leon #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon x reader #resident evil #re2 leon #re2 remake

[pavosnoctua]

feast

cw: mdni, minors dni, dub-con (non descript/fade to black), obsessive and possessive behaviors, afab reader, implied kidnapping, forced marriage, imprisonment, yandere content, dd:dne.

happy belated birthday, diluc

It's his birthday, you tell yourself as he softly kisses you - it's the only way you can bring yourself to even mildly accept this type of affection from him. He never even allows himself to touch you most of the time, only ever watches with longing, hunger, much like a predator towards it prey but he never pounces. You always expect and wait, on edge for the day he becomes hungry enough to ignore you when you protest. It's his birthday.

You wish he wasn't tender when he kisses you, you wish he wouldn't ask you and that he wouldn't hold you as if you would shatter in his touch like glass the moment he got too rough. And you know he would be a great lover, if he were not the way he is.

Diluc is warm and you can't help but lean into him a little bit - these last few days have been dreary and cold, that his body heat is a welcome change. As much as the man tries to keep the fires going, they cannot run all night, and you cannot stay curled up in bed all day (as much as you would love to because the bed seems to be the only safe place from him, your room a sanctity of holiness where he fears if he crosses, he may corrupt it with his sin).

He's tender when he moves further down your neck, a clear need growing in him to touch you more, to take more, to want more - a greed that he always denies himself. And you know that he will masturbate to this later, you know that he finds shame in his actions but yet, cannot stop. This man is addicted to his own suffering.

It's his birthday, you have to keep telling yourself this as he pulls you closer and you can feel his erection pressing against you, the way his gloved hands feel against the soft curve of your hips, sneaking underneath your dress that was specifically chosen for today (who knew, really, that he'd lose his mind over some cleavage?). He squeezes your thighs, before moving up. Just let him do this today, and he'll leave you alone for the next week.

Diluc finally has to pull away from the kiss, his hands edging along your bloomers and there is hunger and guilt and shame and need on him. He smells of firewood and expense cologne.

"Please." he rasps. "I'm sorry." He nips your neck, temptation a bit too strong for your liking.

You lick your lips - outside of his room, you hear maids scurry about. They are preparing for tonight's feast. Even if Diluc is not a cruel master nor a picky one, his servants always work to go above and beyond to impress him. You're never sure as to why. If he were not like this, you would have loved to be his wife - you would have agreed to allow him to marry you. But that's not the case, not now.

And if you allow this - at least he's asking because you fear one day he may not do so - you know that dinner can range from good to mildly pleasant and he will be absent from your life for the next week. (And if that's the case, you wonder if it'd be easy to steal his Pyro vision from his thigh because maybe it could give you a source of warmth during these cold, rainy days)

So you sigh and you relent - surrendering yourself to a choice that may or may not hurt.

"Happy birthday." You mumble, hating that you, yourself, had become the gift for him. "Just don't rip the dress, I don't want Adelinde to lecture me about having to sew it back up."

That's all he needs to easily lift you up and lay you on his bed - looking up on you as if you were his feast for tonight.

"I promise," he whispers as he starts to pepper wet kisses along your thigh. "You won't regret this. I love you."

It's his birthday.

#yandere diluc #yandere diluc x reader #yandere diluc x you #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #diluc x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x gender neutral reader #yandere genshin #yandere #soft yandere #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #mine.txt #diluc

[cuubism]

Hob will always be grateful that he and Dream got together before Dream's retirement, for so many reasons. One of them is this: that he knows what Dream of the Endless looks like when he laughs, when he's flustered, when he's flushed with pleasure, or warm from a hot shower. Because he knows these things he can fully appreciate the contrast in how Dream--just Dream, himself, not Of The Anything--looks in those moments.

Dream of the Endless had been a work of fine art that never cracked. Hob doesn't think he saw him blush once, ever. His skin was always pale and even, even when Hob made him smile, or cry out in pleasure, or warmed him by the fire. He was how he was.

This Dream, human Dream, his Dream, blushes so easily, and it's a delight. Even human, his complexion is very pale, so the slightest redness is stark on his skin. When Hob surprises him with a kiss he blushes high on his cheeks. When they're gasping for breath after sex--gasping for breath, another thing Dream of the Endless had never done--Dream's face will be flushed red and damp with sweat. He's embarrassed about it, which only makes the blush worse, but Hob finds it incredibly charming.

Or like now: when he's coming out of the shower. Hob has to stifle a laugh. The poor once-dream king's whole chest, neck, and face are splotchy and red from the heat. He does like his showers boiling hot, and he pays for it in this. It's rather un-sexy--Hob's sure Dream would prefer to swan out of the bathroom dripping in a more picturesque and alluring way. But Hob thinks it's all very cute.

Dream scowls at him as he laughs. "You are making fun. Cease that this instant."

"Sorry, Your Highness, it's just that you look like a calico cat that's gone through a forest fire."

Dream throws a towel at him before he's even had a chance to dry his hair with it. When Hob catches it, his scowl only deepens.

Hob steps into his space and starts drying his hair for him. "S'tough when you can't dictate every little bit of your appearance, isn't it?" He's not without sympathy. He knows that even now, for Dream, relinquishing the tiniest bit of control feels like losing a battle.

Dream pokes at one of the red patches on his skin, which is gradually fading. His fingertip leaves a white indent. "I do not know why the blood insists on continually traveling towards the surface. It has other business."

"Perhaps it's just greedy for warmth." He tousles Dream's hair, which earns him another pout. "Like the body it's trying to run, hm?"

"Body," Dream echoes, with distaste. He does not always like having one, Hob knows. Nor especially one that can show his emotions so clearly, and without his agreement.

"It looks good on you," Hob tells him, caressing his cheek. "Warmth. You know."

Warmth, and life. It's worth more than anything to see dream having these moments of life. An overly-hot shower. A blushing smile.

Hob kisses his cheek, and, predictably, he blushes.

"...Perhaps," Dream finally allows. The redness from the shower is fading, but the shade on his cheeks lingers. He's so unbearably lovely.

Hob kisses the corner of his mouth. Murmurs there, "Should we see just how much I can make you blush?"

"This fixation is discomfiting," Dream complains. But he follows agreeably when Hob takes his hands and draws him into the bedroom. He always follows in the end, even if he complains the whole while. Hob thinks that, deep down, Dream wants this life, even if it's sometimes all splotchy. It's just hard to feel like he can have it. It's new and still rubbed raw, and these little changes are as confronting as they are, secretly, comforting.

But Hob loves him in this life, and loves showing him how much he loves him. Especially when he can get that blush to rise all along Dream's chest and throat and cheeks and the tips of his ears. Because another thing that's wonderful about Dream's human body?

It takes kisses so beautifully.

#a challenge for myself to write a tiny little idea and NOT let it become fucking eternally long #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing