#(note to self: at two different points in the session)

[ummick]

mick schumacher in the garage during fp1, singapore - september 20, 2024

[bunni-v1]

hii, can I request "First Years Finding Out Your A Girl" with sebek and ortho please?

Ortho and Sebek Find out You’re a Girl?!?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Swearing (as usual lol); Ortho being creepy; Misogyny mention <3; Reader goes by she/her and is biologically female; Book 6 spoilers (very light, but still there); Bunni hasn't read Book 7 and therefore doesn't know what they're talking about :)

Info: Ortho x Reader; Sebek x Reader; Fem!Reader; Platonic

🍓Hi. If you’ve read the first part of this, I copy pasted the intro. Not because I’m lazy or anything (I’m a little lazy, but I’m a full-time college student who also has a part-time job, so I think I can be excused.) It’s mostly because… It’s a good intro. If people are just discovering this stuff then they can read it, but if you’ve read the first part you can just skip to the good good yk. Anyway, long-ass babble session, but I didn’t include Ortho and Sebek initially because they’re kind of new to the First year group so idk. Felt weird including them. Also, I haven’t read book seven so Sebek I bullshit a lot lol. Anyway, they’re here now, and I absolutely ADORE Ortho, so sorry if my favoritism shows.

First Years

Second Years

Third Years

Dorm Leaders

-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?

-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.

-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.

-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)

-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)

-So how do you two do it?

-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.

-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.

-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)

-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.

-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part. 

-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.

-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.

-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.

-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!

-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.

-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…

-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.

-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course).

-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.

-So… how do they find out?

Ortho 

-Okay, so Ortho is a little creepy weirdo. He’s a highly advanced robot who likely has autism, and loves his big brother a whole fucking lot. 

-(Side note: Can a robot, child, or thing have autism? Does that mean Idia programmed Ortho to be autistic? How silly of him.)

-It’s my personal head cannon that Idia DECKED this kid out in as much high-tech gear as he could get his hands on. 

-He’s equipped with some of the most complex medical features, therefore he has access to a database of all students at NRC’s medical files. (This is not legal, but he does not care for the law.)

-“But Bunni, what does that have to do with the prefect?” Well, Ortho is ALSO equipped with the latest medical scanner on the market.

-Think like Baymax, yeah? He can scan everyone one time and know every piece of medical knowledge readily available.

-Well, Ortho, the sweet little creep he is, automatically scans the medical information of any new person he sees/meets into his database — just in case it may come in handy.

-So, before he even KNOWS you. Before he speaks a single word to you, he knows you’re biologically a female.

-He scanned you without thinking and just shrugged his shoulders at it.

-You’re not from here, and you got thrown into this, so you being a woman doesn’t really matter too much to you being at NRC. 

-It honestly could’ve been anyone getting stuck here, so why should he question it?

-However, he notices that you are referred to with exclusively “male” pronouns, so he marks in your file that you are trans and moves on. 

-Again, who cares? He’s a magical robot guy based on his brother's dead brother. Who was he to judge?

-When he finally ACTUALLY gets to interact with you after being welcomed into the first-year squad, he’s very respectful of your gender.

-You are a man to him, therefore he refers to you with exclusively masculine pronouns.

-However, everyone in your little group already knows, and they assume that Ortho knows. So when they speak about you, they use feminine pronouns.

-Ortho, sweet as he is, immediately questions everyone as to why they’re misgendering you.

-Protective of the people he cares for at heart, he doesn’t like the idea that your so-called closest friends are misgendering you behind your back.

-Doesn’t believe them completely when they explain, so he goes to you because you’re the only one who knows who you really are.

-“Prefect!”

“Hey, Ortho! What’s up? Miss me?”

“Of course I do, but I have a very important question.”

“Sure, what do ya need?”

“Are you a woman?”

-At this point 90% of your friends know, but there is a handful that doesn’t… and you can’t be having that.

-You, of course, assure Ortho that you are not only a woman, but that your friends are not misgendering you behind your back.

-Relieved, he takes several of your friends off a hit list and removes the trans man label on your medical chart.

-Asks why you hid your gender in the first place.

-Promptly adds Crowley to a hit list (again).

-Ortho, out of EVERYONE at NRC, has absolutely zero behavior changes toward you. 

-He’s equally protective as he was before, he spends the same amount of time with you as usual, he doesn’t suddenly have some weird crush on you, and he’s still trying to set you up with Idia.

-Honestly, everyone should take notes from Ortho. He’s the best at this whole thing.

Sebek

-On the other hand… do not take notes from Sebek! He sucks at this! He sucks really badly!

-Out of all the first years, Sebek is not only the least close to you, but he is also incredibly mean. So you just… feel no obligation to tell him.

-In fact, you kind of… sort of… actively leave him out of the loop for a really long time.

-I mean, it's not an unreasonable thing to do. He is constantly berating you and putting you down for being human. You have no idea how he feels about women and you don’t want to find out first hand.

-In all honesty, he is the only person (other than Azul and the twins) that you’re really scared of finding out, and take extra precautions to ensure he doesn’t find out.

-However, you attend NRC, and nothing ever goes your way at NRC.

-Despite every precaution you take to keep your gender under lock and key, you overlook one thing.

-Malleus Draconia.

-His complete and total lack of social awareness is your downfall here. He finds out, and despite everything telling him to keep his mouth shut… he doesn’t. Because of course, he doesn’t.

-At this point, you’ve gone through most of your misadventures, and most — if not all — of your friends know you’re a girl.

-Hell, even Silver knows now. Everyone BUT Sebek knows.

-And he finds out because Malleus casually mentions it over dinner. Not even directly about your gender, he just uses she/her pronouns.

-Sebek, being Sebek, respectfully asks Malleus if he meant to say he. Malleus, of course, says no without a second thought.

-The shock and horror on Silver and Lilia’s faces was enough to be further confirmation.

-And Sebek’s world shatters.

-He was completely left out of the loop and also has a moral conflict now.

-As much shit, as I gave Sebek (as everyone gives Sebek) he RESPECTS women. His queen is a woman, and his mother is a woman. 

-In his eyes, women are some of the strongest people around. Regardless of if they’re human or not.

-You, on top of being a human from another realm who had successfully quelled several of the strangest students at NRC’s OVERBLOTS and came out on top, was also a woman.

-If that wasn’t strength, he didn’t know what it was.

-However, his bias against humans strongly clashes with his respect for women in this case.

-And it just… messes with his head. 

-He doesn’t treat you worse, in fact, he’s just… really awkward around you now.

-He doesn’t know if he should apologize or berate you for being a human, so he just stays stiff and glares at you.

-It's honestly more scary than him constantly talking down to you.

-However, once the two of you actually befriend one another, he apologizes to you. For everything, and explains where he’s coming from. Why he acted the way he did, how he really feels about you, and all that sweet shit.

-Afterwards, he is genuinely the best at keeping your secret (if he even needs to at this point).

-If there is anyone you can trust to keep his stupid mouth shut at NRC, it's Sebek. 

-His honor and pride force him into silence when it comes to secrets he promises to keep.

-In fact, if anyone is on your trail about it, he’s the first one to jump in the way and scare them off/shut them down.

[findmeinthefallair]

God I never showed you guys how I would've written case notes for our boi's therapy sessions.

Here are some examples I drew up for a very early stage session with him, since I need to put down this info before I can create and write more scenes and screenshots.

Basic SOAP notes template:

Subjective is what the client shares and reports.

Objective is what the therapist can see, based on what's called a Mental Status Exam that we must conduct for any session.

Assessment is reporting whether you think the client is getting further away or closer to the goals they set for therapy, framed through the theoretical orientation that the therapist uses. In my past experience, I have used a blend of the Satir Model and Internal Family Systems theories, both of which are systemic theories i.e. we believe that a client's life has been shaped by their family background and environment.

It's important that Hunter's therapist would have to use what's called a non-directive approach to give him lots of space and autonomy to explore his thoughts and feelings. Systemic theories and others such as Narrative Therapy, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) are all non-directive, whereas approaches such as the more commonly heard Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) are directive and most likely a poor fit for him because it would enable his extreme rule-following tendencies.

Plan refers to the course of action that both therapist and client could take, and seeing how the rapport between them is building up.

----------------------------

A piece of homework I might give him is a log like this, to track how he's doing and feeling through the weeks and months:

The percentages shown are him rating how intense his experienced symptoms are. This table can be discussed in each session too.

----------------------------

Lastly, disclaimer for the next one: I've not trained in the EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) modality but had a peek at how EMDR therapists write their case notes, since I also spent two years going for EMDR sessions as a client. But it might look like this for the boi based on what I found online:

EMDR is about replacing harmful beliefs about self with positive ones, and involves a ton of subconscious work via something called "bilateral stimulation" (to really simplify, when you go for a walk you shift between putting your left and right feet in front while moving: this contributes towards you most likely feeling better afterwards). EMDR does something very similar with eye movements, or playing alternating sounds in headphones between the left and right ears, or alternating between tapping your left and right knees with your hands.

While this left-right-left-right stuff is happening, you are instructed by the therapist to mentally replay an image from a traumatic memory. One single traumatic memory is processed at a time, and a mental "safe place" and emotional resources must be set up first across many initial sessions before the actual processing is even carried out.

Anyway, the therapist most likely would not dive into the worst memory of him being possessed, because that would be too much, even if a safe place and resources are first set up. The most likely memory to be addressed first could be when he received his notable facial scar, or whichever was the earliest traumatic memory he remembers.

In the screenshot above, the "VoC" section is how strongly the client believes in the new positive belief, on a scale from 1 to 7. The number would obviously be very low in the beginning; the goal of EMDR therapy is to bring the number all the way up to a 7 across the months ahead.

The SUDs section is about Subjective Units of Disturbance, used to measure how much distress the client feels about the image of the traumatic memory on a scale of 1 to 10. The hope is to get the number down as low as possible over the months.

I picture him having various breakthroughs with the help of this technique at different points of his healing, such as before Grom Night, before he can even imagine himself carving Waffles...overall being more and more okay over time with a world with no Flapjack in it.

It's amazing to picture the work that the boi would put in until he can feel calmness and even a blooming sense of purpose handling the pieces of palistrom wood he'd be working with in the years to come, instead of pure distress about the best friend he played a part in slaying. Thanks for attending my spontaneous TED talk lol

[satorhime]

. ･｡･ self checkout ࿐ nagi seishiro.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content ㆍ﹒fluff, aged up!nagi, pro footballer!nagi, height difference (reader is shorter than nagi), shopping trips, slightly suggestive, established relationship. f!reader. w.c. 2k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis ㆍ﹒nagi enjoys running errands if the two of you go together. & ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: baby’s first blue lock fic !! honestly i’m supa nervous bc i haven’t written 4 them before n i’m still figuring things out but i hope u enjoy reading this anw <333

“this date is so tiring,” nagi laments for the fifth time since you stepped through the automated sliding doors of the neighborhood supermarket. he blows out a breath from his puffed cheeks, sounding as if he is on the verge of collapsing while you browse the shelves for pantry essentials and late night snacks. “when can we go home?”

a trendy song from a summer spotify mix croons over the tinny speakers overhead, its bubblegum pop lyrics interrupted every now and then by a cheery voice advertising new items and upcoming discounts. the supermarket is busier than when you and seishiro usually stop by, which isn’t all that surprising considering it’s the end of the day. college students carry armfuls of instant ramen and sugary sodas for study sessions and old ladies browse for medicinal teas while parents push full carts of groceries, ignoring their wailing children who press their little noses against the frosty glass of the freezers, begging to be given overpriced ice creams locked away inside.

and you resist the urge to roll your eyes with exasperation, glancing over to where your boyfriend leans heavily on the handle of the cart he has been tasked with pushing for you— his long fingers tapping away at a mobile game on the screen of his phone.

“that’s because,” you begin, wagging a finger at him when you turn around and toss an item into the bottom of the cart. “it’s not a date, sei. i told you that i had to run errands today and you insisted on coming with me when you hate it.”

“‘s’boring at home when you’re not there, so it seemed like a good idea at first,” he shrugs, rolling the cart further down the aisle when you’re on the move again. slothy, midwinter gray eyes drag lazily over your body— taking in the way your faded t-shirt (which is, really, just one of his old ones) rides up a little on your body, exposing the cute little dimples in the soft part of your back as you stand on your tiptoes, struggling to reach one of the higher shelves in the freezer section.

you are well aware that nagi hates daily tasks. things such as making the bed in the morning, washing the dishes after dinner, or visiting the laundromat once a week requires too much energy from your drowsy footballer boyfriend, but it makes you happy to know that he tries, even if he falls asleep while doing it; that he will do anything if you are involved, and nothing if you aren’t.

like right now, he abandons his mobile game and the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle without care to come over and help you, making a mother of two-under-two glare at him viciously. he snorts, sliding his hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts, a romantic comedy habit of his when the two of you are walking anywhere together. nagi’s head tilts cutely to one side, blinking owlishly up at the shelves. “which one d’you wanna get, shortstack?”

“i am not short,” you huff, twisting your mouth to one side at his teasing, but you point to the item you want— an assorted pack of ice lollies. “shelves are designed against short people. and i dunno— are we in the mood for ice cream or popsicles?”

it’s hard to make a decision because freezers full of summer treats line both sides of the aisle. tubs of gourmet gelatos, variety packs of creamy ice candies, and an endless selection of mochi with custard fillings in the middle that make your mouth water at the thought of bringing them home with you.

“i’ll eat them no matter what anyway,” he shrugs, unwilling to be the one to choose, but then his gray eyes glance down at your lips, then back to the items in front of you. you swear that his eyes darken to a stormier color, even though his expression never changes. “you make cute sounds when you suck on ice pops, and you always taste sweet after. get those.”

and then he faces forward, browsing the selection of ice creams with interest, as if his words didn’t short circuit a current in your brain. you’ll never understand how seishiro can say the most outlandish things so casually, only to return to what he’s doing while you’re left attempting to calm your fast heart.

“ice pops it is,” you say, a little winded. “make sure to get the second pack, and not the first.”

“mhnn, why’s it matter? the second one’s farther back. they all look the same to me.”

“they’re not. the first is one everybody has touched or returned.”

“that . . . makes sense,” he considers it, then he nods, lips formed into a little ‘o’ shape. “okay, we’ll get the second one.”

you watch as he steps forward, pushing the first pack of ice lollies aside to select the second as you requested, reaching the item with ease and heavens, it’s moments like these when you are reminded just how much bigger seishiro is. he’s always towered over your shorter height and it’s so, so unfair how he uses it to his advantage, making your tummy burn at the sight. frosty air wafts from the open door of the freezer, bringing chills over your heated skin. “‘s a good thing i was here, since you’re so little— there was no way you could reach it.”

“‘m not little,” you mumble, all pouty because nagi is squishing your cheeks between two finger pads. “you’re just so tall. it’s unfair.”

“want me to be shorter?” he asks, and before you can ask what he means, nagi drops the pack of ice pops into your hands and deflates dramatically, bending down to drape himself over your frame. his head tucked against your shoulder, the footballer’s milky fringe tickling the skin of your neck as he closes his eyes. “man, now ‘m even more tired.”

“seishiro, you’re heavy.”

“i know,” he sighs, eyes shuttering below thick lashes, but he makes no effort to move away from your body. instead, his hand slithers under your shirt. making you shiver because his fingertips are dewy and cold from the arctic blast of the freezer and the frozen treat he picked up. you hiss, squirming under his touch as his fingers trail across your belly. “but i’m tired ‘n’ you feel s’soft, like a pillow.”

“nagi, off,” you wheeze, his extra weight making it hard for you to properly breathe. it’s easy to forget how solid he is, straight lines of athletic muscle that usually has you cow-eyed and cooing, as long as it’s not weighing you down in the middle of a supermarket. you try to shake him off, but the midfielder only squeezes you against his body even tighter, his slightly damp lips pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “we’re never gonna get anything done like this, you lazy boy. if you don’t wanna walk, go wait in the sitting area with the grandpas.”

he sighs in defeat and shakes his head, pressing his lips together in that cute frown he pulls whenever he’s thinking. then, he’s dropping his arms from you suddenly. “mmhn, got a better idea.”

“and what’s that—”

you face nagi, only to catch your boyfriend with one foot in the shopping cart as he tries to hoist himself over the railing and inside of the basket.

“sei, you can’t fit in there—!” your eyes flicker between him, and the elderly man judging the two of you at the other end of the aisle. “you’re too big.”

“you’re always saying things like that,” he says, and the innuendo intertwined in the words flies over your pretty head because with one boost, he’s hopping over the railing and sinking into the cart, the metal rattling in protest. you stand there, dumbstruck as he settles. “now i can stay with you without walking.”

“yeah, but now that means i have to push you,” you grumble. “i should leave you here and get a new cart.”

but it’s hard to refuse when your boyfriend is that cute. his impossibly long legs are folded against his chest so that he can fit inside the shopping cart comfortably, taking extra care not to crush any of the delicate items surrounding him. the lower half of his face is buried into the collar of his soft hoodie as he absently chews on the drawstrings, but you can still see the sanrio bandaid you put on him yesterday after he got a nasty elbow to the cheek during football practice.

even though you two are already receiving strange looks from other shoppers passing by, you grip the handle, pushing the cart and your boyfriend dutifully, rolling it onto the next aisle.

“you look ridiculous,” you tell him, but you’re grinning. “but here, you’re on list duty. what do we need to get next?”

nagi’s eyes dutifully scan over the shopping list open in the notes app of your phone, his fingernail scrolling the screen lightly.

“it says ‘ramen because my greedy athlete bf keeps eating it all’ so y’need to get . . . oi, you mean me—”

“i wonder who wrote that there,” you whistle innocently, plucking the device out of his hands, wheeling him away fast.

the rest of your shopping trip is a blur, except for you turning a corner too fast and nearly dumping him out of the cart or the weird looks shoppers continue to give you because by the time you’re lining up in the queue, nagi is buried under the items because he takes up too much space. there’s a bag of rice on one shoulder, a pack of ramen on the other and fresh radishes sprouting from the snowy peaks of his head. not to mention, he’s still holding the pack of ice pops, condensation dripping over his hands.

“you’re making them melt, sei.” because he runs hot a heated blanket in the summer, and you can sympathize with the poor popsicles being defrosted in his big hands.

“‘m gonna eat one so they won’t— oh, hey this one is lemon,” he says, prying open the cardboard lid and tearing open the plastic wrapper of a lemon crème ice pop. tongue peeking out to lick before he’s holding it over his shoulder for you to taste next. “try it. i don’t sound as cute as you when i eat them.”

“sei, you’re not supposed to open those before we—” but nagi pushes the cold treat between your lips insistently, your eyes rounding wide, whining in protest as the ice pop hits your sensitive teeth. but it does taste good— creamy, sweet and sour flavors coating the surface of your tongue. “oh, it’s sh’good. we should get another pack.”

“see? y’make the cutest sounds when you suck it.”

“shut up, seishiro.”

you begin placing the items on the conveyor belt, listening to the irritating bleep, bleep, bleep of the scanner as the cashier rings up each product. you’re not frugal, but you peep at the total on the screen every now and then with a wince.

“that’s it for you, or are you buying the man in your cart too, ma’am?” the cashier asks, glancing at nagi as he finishes off the melting ice pop in the shopping cart, chin resting on top of his knees.

“no,” and you giggle, cheeks warming as you roll your eyes in exasperation. “this one is already mine.”

[haechvn]

Too Intense

Pairing: Shuri Udaku x F!Reader

Warning: Y'all gone hate me cause Shuri rude asf. You have been warned. I'm actually tryna hurt yall feelins. Angst.

Word Count: 1.1k+

Summary/Request: Toxic!Shuri. That's it.

Author’s Note: I wrote this a while ago but I wasn't too sure about it. I tweaked it a bit and now i'm in love. Lmk if yall wanna be on my taglist. Love yall

Taglist: @blkgworlamplified @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @theblacksuccubus

The cold, sterile smell of the hospital was almost too familiar by now, a stark reminder of the pain and confusion that had become a constant in your life. Shuri had been rough with you during a training session. Her strength, normally a reassuring presence, had become uncomfortably overbearing, and you found yourself sidelined in the hospital for a few nights on many different occasions. The bruises and aches were secondary to the emotional turmoil of being so close to her yet so far away.

When you were finally released, the confrontation you dreaded sought you out. Shuri had locked herself in her room, unable—or rather unwilling—to face you. Her absence was a silent scream of regret and discomfort, and you could feel the coldness of her avoidance cutting through the air. Her usual self-assured demeanor had cracked, revealing a vulnerability she refused to acknowledge.

Her newfound lack of empathy was one of the hardest things to endure. Shuri often acted as if her own hardships were so monumental that nothing could compare. It became a habit for her to dismiss your struggles with an almost casual cruelty. “Wow. It’s so sad you argue with your mom every day. Where’s mine? Oh, right. I’m done listening,” she would say, brushing off your pain with a shrug. It was as if your problems were trivial compared to the grand scale of her own trials.

This lack of empathy extended to how she handled your relationship, particularly when it came to her interactions with RiRi. Shuri was constantly talking about how beautiful RiRi was, her voice dripping with deliberate poison, meant to provoke jealousy and rage. Despite her attempts to downplay it, her actions spoke volumes. The tension built until it reached a breaking point. One night, the emotional strain pushed you too far and you lashed out at her with every fiber of your being. It was a desperate act of frustration and pain, the culmination of feeling constantly belittled and manipulated.

Shuri looked you dead in the eyes after that you spoke out against her behavior, her gaze cold and unwavering. “You aren’t more important than my work or anyone else in my life,” she said with an icy calm tone. “If you can’t handle that, then you should just leave me alone. Spend the money I give you and keep quiet.” The words cut deep, and the gesture that followed—a transfer of two million dollars to your account—was a bitter reminder of her ability to detach from you emotionally while trying to compensate with financial means. The way she used money as a substitute for emotional connection only deepened the rift between the two of you. Her financial generosity was supposed to be a balm for the wounds she inflicted, but it only served as a stark reminder of how transactional your relationship had become. The many millions of dollars she has transferred to you over the years were a testament to her belief that money could mend what her words and actions had shattered.

Her refusal to even be intimate with you became a weapon she wielded with precision. One morning, you had simply greeted the Dora Milaje with a soft “hi,” and Shuri’s reaction was swift and harsh. “I didn’t like the way you spoke to them,” she declared, her tone final. “No sex tonight. Matter fact, don't touch me for a week.” The punishment felt petty and unjust, a way for her to reassert her control and punish you for perceived slights.

The physical and emotional barriers she built were sometimes more painful than the wounds from training sessions. Her constant criticism, whether it was about your strength or my interactions with others, was a manifestation of her own insecurities. She projected her frustrations onto you, making every exchange feel like a test of endurance rather than a moment of genuine connection.

The dynamic between you often felt like a constant struggle for validation. Shuri’s embarrassment over your perceived lack of strength was another cruel twist in the relationship. “Tighten up, what is the hell is the matter with you,” she’d scold, her impatience palpable. It was as if your struggles were a reflection of her own inadequacies and oh did she despised seeing you falter.

Shuri’s refusal to acknowledge her role in your issues, combined with her tendency to gaslight and dismiss every feeling you expressed, left you reeling. Her actions, from the callous remarks about any family issues to the cruel mind games she played with RiRi, spoke of someone who was deeply conflicted but unwilling to confront her own shortcomings.

Each time you thought you'd find a moment of understanding or solace in one another, Shuri would retreat back into her fortress of self-righteousness and emotional detachment. It was as if she viewed the relationship as a battleground, where the stakes were high and the only victory was maintaining control. Any attempts to address these issues were met with her trademark dismissal or cold logic.

In moments of clarity, you could see the cracks in her armor—the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability and the rare admissions of her own struggles. Yet, these moments were always fleeting, quickly buried under layers of her self-imposed duty and mental barricades. It was a dance between pain and disillusion, where love was twisted into a weapon rather than a source of comfort.

As you navigated the choppy waters of your relationship, it became clear that Shuri was trapped in her own cycle of paranoia and denial. Her inability to balance her personal and professional lives, combined with her tendency to prioritize her work over the connection you two once nurtured, created a volatile environment where genuine affection was often overshadowed by power struggles and emotional manipulation.

The realization of how deeply she was embedded in her own worldview left you grappling with your own emotions. You had to come to terms with the fact that your attempts to reach her or change the situation was no longer necessary. The love you once shared had become a thorn in your side. The high stakes were not just your feelings but your very sense of self-worth and emotional stability.

In the end, you were left to decipher the complexity of your union, trying to find a way to either bridge the gap or finally accept that this cycle of emotional manipulation and control was unsustainable. The journey was marked by moments of intense passion and deep pain, a testament to the intricate and often destructive nature of your once sacred connection. The combination of emotional distance, scheming, and outright cruelty created a relationship that was as painful as it was complex.

[chunksworld]

Moth to a Flame

IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N 1: Welcome to another episode of Chunk goes monkey brain. Credit goes to @kaedespicelatte as always for beta reading

------------------------------

From: Vicky Jang

“She told me she just got on the plane, daddy. You know what to do.”

You should’ve known that she had something up her sleeve as soon as your girlfriend left for Japan. You should’ve known how opportunistic she is and yet you find yourself driving to her apartment as quickly as possible once again like you don’t already have a significant other that loves you very, very, very much. It should have raised red flags when you didn’t receive any messages from her the week leading up to your girlfriend’s departure. It was foolish from you to think that maybe, just maybe, she finally realized just how extremely messed up the situation is. You should’ve known better, you should be better. But it really doesn’t matter now because it was pathetic how quickly you dressed up as soon as you received that text from her. You couldn’t even wait until your girlfriend has completely left the country and you’re already dying to dick down her best friend out of all people. 

It’s infuriating how addicted you are to Jang Wonyoung. It’s infuriating how she can manipulate you. It’s infuriating how easily she can gaslight you. It’s infuriating how you are willingly giving in to all of it. And what makes all of the above worse is that she’s not even your girlfriend to begin with. No, she’s just your girlfriend’s beloved best friend that somehow crept her way into your life like some sort of parasite waiting for a vulnerable host. And you were vulnerable in more ways than one because it only took one session of drinking before she was able to seduce you and you’ve been falling prey constantly ever since. It didn’t help that you’ve already developed some sort of attraction with her that you tried so hard to hide deep inside you because of your “morals” but it’s almost disgusting to even bring out such a word at this point. Knock on the door in a specific pattern that only you two know and you’re met with a surprise that far exceeds your expectations.

“Wonyo—“

Only one foot inside and you already find your body meshed with hers, lips doing the same as you haphazardly close the door behind while you attempt to weather the storm that is Jang Wonyoung. It’s all too overwhelming and yet you should be familiar with it now; one second you find yourself engaging in an awkward dance in the middle of her spacious living room and then another finds you blindly crashing on top of her sofa (be careful not to land on her pillows again or she might actually kill you this time). An outsider might think that this is all just one giant mess but everything is carefully orchestrated; Wonyoung is one for establishing routines and sex is no different matter. Her slender fingers make quick work of your hoodie, hurling it god knows where and leaving you awkwardly in a white tank top that you wore in a rush. You hope she would look past it and she fortunately does, more so because it gives her an even better opportunity to ogle at your biceps than she usually would and such a sight turns her on immensely (though that’s something she won’t ever admit to you).

“Hmm. I’ve missed you so much, daddy.”

You hate it.

You hate how one word can bring the most primal and sinful desires out of you, the way she utters it with such conviction and vigor devolving you into a shell of your former self (which doesn’t say that much considering you’re so willingly giving in to what she wants). You hate how her perfume lures you every single time, notes of red berries and datura flowers driving you further and further into the edge of your sanity. You hate how those lips intoxicate you much faster than any alcoholic concoction could; their taste and texture rivaled by none—soft, plump, and with a hint of the peach-flavored lip balm she always uses. You hate how amazing her body feels against yours, tight, slim, curvy and oh-so-delectable in all of the right places. You hate how just one measly text from her brings you right into her apartment every single time. You hate how you always promise to yourself that this shouldn’t happen ever again and yet you find yourself itching to fuck her right at this very moment. You hate how easily you forget the fact that she’s not your girlfriend—or even worse, you hate the fact that she’s not your girlfriend.

“Wony, I told you not to say that.” It’s a feeble attempt in trying to look and sound intimidating when she already knows you too well—even better than your own girlfriend, unfortunately. It’s almost pathetic hearing her laugh in response, her teeth sinking into her bruised lower lips to prevent herself from destroying your ego even further though the sight just makes her that much tempting to your eyes. She knows how much power she holds over you, an irony considering her position in this power dynamic you two have going on; and yet it’s a position she’ll gladly relegate from if it means getting fucked until she can’t walk the following morning. But she’s too nice of a girl to push you to your limits and she doesn’t want her dick appointment to be ruined so she pulls you for another kiss to subdue your feigned anger. It’s embarrassing how quickly your anger is quelled the more she swirls her tongue around yours, the more amorous sounds that emit from those lips of hers, the lower her hand travels starting from your well-defined abs down to the raging tent forming on your gray sweatpants.

“Or what, daddy?” 

It’s downright poisonous, the way her eyes dare you to do something, anything and yet you’re like a deer in the headlights. Those damn alluring eyes. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary either, it’s common knowledge that you’re too much of a coward to actually confront her about the usage of that particular term of endearment (See, the truth is that you actually love the fuck out of being called “daddy”, but why boost her inflated ego even further by telling her? Keep acting like you hate it and she’ll continue to tease you for it). Thankfully, there’s still a small part of you that is completely aware of just how wrong all of this is—and this small remnant of humanity in you wants to inform her of such unjustness. To inform her that you have a girlfriend who you have a loving relationship with, that you should be in your shared apartment and FaceTiming her because she’s bored out of her mind in that hotel room, that all you should be worrying about right now is how to make sure her dog doesn’t leave a mess all over the place. Isn’t it your anniversary in a few weeks?

“I can’t.” Of course you can’t. It’s a “grass is green and the sky is blue” situation. Any response other than that would freeze hell over (not that you aren’t there already). Was it worth trying? Perhaps. But all it does is make Wonyoung even more impatient—and you should know out of all people just how incredibly difficult it is to deal with an extremely horny and needy princess. This brief moment of vulnerability enables her to flip your positions, straddling your lap. Groan as the underside of her shorts make contact with your clothed length and the sensation almost sends you into a frenzy. A proud smile paints her features—it’s another battle won for her and you didn’t even put up a fight. Maybe you should stop trying at this point, you’d rather paint her face with your cum anyways. That will surely look better on her than the loads of makeup she spends hundreds of dollars on.

“That’s what I thought. Now take these clothes off of me— and wait! Don’t rip them, okay? I’ll cut your dick off if I have to throw away another expensive top.”

“You’ll have nothing to fuck then. And if I recall, none of your toys can make you scream as loud as I do. I don’t think you want that to happen. Right, Miss Jang?” Checkmate.

“Hmph, shut up!”

Before either of you could retort, you sit up to meet her at face level. Take this moment to appreciate just how gorgeous she is, a face truly sculpted by the gods and made to be ruined. Starstruck couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt when Yujin introduced her to you, it was like looking at a Michelangelo piece come to life. Except she’s actually real and you’re about to spend another night finding out just how perfect she is, no need to snoop around in a museum somewhere in Europe. Brush loose strands of her hair aside and grab her by the waist, pulling her into a kiss that is gentler and softer than the first two. It’s captivating, alluring, and addicting. It’s a feeling you don’t quite achieve even in your hottest sessions with your girlfriend and deep down, that’s probably what kills you the most. “You’re so gorgeous, Wony.” 

“Save the compliments for later, I want you to fuck me hard right now, daddy.” Before you could even do the honors, she’s already pulling her top over her head and you do the same to yours. Wonyoung moans as your lips latch on to her neck; kissing, licking, and biting as you give her hickeys but you’re careful not to leave any darker ones or you’ll be out of here in a flash. It’s so sinful the way she moans your name, and it fills you with elation knowing that you’re the only one out of eight billion people on this planet that is capable of such a feat. It sends more blood rushing to your groin and you can’t wait to just ruin her. Your hands aren’t idle however, roaming her smooth back as you search for the clasps of her lace bra before throwing it with the same force as she did with your hoodie.

She’s definitely not as big as Yujin but her breasts are perky, taut, and just the right size to fit in the palm of your hands. You’ve grown to love them over time and you wouldn’t have it any other way. They look perfect in your hands and even better once you have your lips wrapped around them. Trail your kisses down to her collarbones, continuing to leave marks while you fondle her tits. It only makes her moan louder and you bring your lips to hers to silence her—you two have already received a noise complaint and you don’t want her to get kicked out (it’s definitely not purely because you want to kiss her again). But it’s useless once you do end up sucking on her tits, careful not to overstimulate her while your tongue twists around her areolas and your lips latch on to the soft flesh.

You would gladly stay like this until the end of time but of course the night couldn’t end like this because before you knew it, she already had a firm grip on the waistband of your sweatpants. Regretfully lift your face off her tits and she gives you a look that could only scream “fuck me already.” And what Wonyoung wants, Wonyoung gets. She removes herself off your lap and pulls the obstructing fabric down in one swift motion, immediately exposing your fully-erect cock to the cold air of her apartment. She almost drools at the sight, but she doesn’t want you to boost your ego either so she could only cover her hand to prevent you from hearing any sounds of arousal. But it really doesn’t matter because at the end of this night, you’ll have her screaming for your dick as if her life depended on it.

“Commando? Seriously? And yet here you were acting like you didn’t want to do this?” She tries hard not to give any further reaction and yet, her eyes can only look at its size and girth in awe. The sheer attention she gives to it almost makes you want to pull up your sweatpants again because of how much precum is dribbling out due to arousal. Completely remove your sweatpants and it joins the scattered pieces of clothing in her living room. Now you’re completely naked; and as much as you don’t want to think about it, not even Yujin gets the privilege of seeing you in such a state regularly (go ahead, keep thinking about your girlfriend and that would make it two women you’ll disappoint tonight). Just focus on Wonyoung, you already made it all the way to this point so you might as well see through it.

Make her straddle your lap again, this time working on unbuttoning her shorts and taking off her matching lace panties that are absolutely drenched. You would tease her for this but given the mutual overflowing lust for each other, you decide to save that for a later time. Now both of you are fully naked and given how wet she is, it makes the task of sliding her down your length much easier. Though it doesn’t say much considering how tight she is, even tighter than Yujin, despite the handful of times you’ve had sex with her already. You almost groan in pain as her nails dig deep on the skin of your back while your cock digs deep inside her warm and suffocating pussy. She screams, the sound reverberating throughout her studio apartment and given how thin the walls are, you two are about to give her neighbors a show tonight.

“So fucking tight, Wony. So. Fucking. Tight.” You hiss and grit your teeth as you fill her more and more, stretching her out with every inch inserted inside her. It takes a few more seconds before you can finally impale her, your tip reaching her cervix and then completely pulling out—audible whines from Wonyoung as she grabs your cock from underneath and forces you back into her. She’s so damn needy. But you would be lying if you said you aren’t either because you grip her ass needily as you begin to stroke upwards, immediately sending shockwaves throughout her slim body as she falls slump on your chest. Her slick thankfully aids in helping you maneuver or you’ll have to use some lube (something you’ve only had to do when she asked to do anal once and you’ve been dying to try it again).

“God—ah—f-fuck, daddy. You’re stretching me out so well.” Hot and heavy breaths send goosebumps all over your body as she buries her face on the crook of your neck, completely pressing her warm body against yours (you actually wanted to kiss her again but you’d gladly feel every inch of her perfect body as an alternative) and god, does she feel so fucking amazing. The way her thighs crash against yours, the thunderous slapping of skin on skin mixing with the faint noise of the heater turning on in the background, her moans flowing directly into your ears—it’s all too much to handle and as much as you hate to admit it, the fact that she’s not even yours to begin with is what truly sends you spiraling into a world of bliss. You’ve already fucked up anyways, might as well indulge to the fullest before judgement day comes.

And indulge you do because soon enough, you’re moaning and groaning much like she does—only at a lower tone as if a conductor is telling you to harmonize with her. But eventually, it gets drowned out by the continuous slapping of your hips to her thighs, creating a vociferous squelching noise that only increases in volume and confirms just how wet and aroused she is. Look down and the juices flowing down her thighs adds further evidence as it stains your crotch with her precious honey as well—such a delectable treat shouldn’t be wasted and should be lapped up instead. Fortunately you have the weekend all to yourselves so you can eat her out all day tomorrow if you want.

“H-Heh. You’re really enjoying this aren’t you, daddy?” Wonyoung lifts up her face to look at you for the first time in a while and she looks so beautiful, breathtaking, and absolutely fucked. Tears have begun to well under her eyes and yet somehow her mascara is still intact, guess it was money well spent after all. “I bet Yujin unnie can’t fuck you this good, huh? I wonder what she would be saying right now once she finds out that her best friend loves getting dicked down by her man, hmm?” It should make you angry, it definitely has to make you angry. But every sexual encounter with her has stripped you of any sense of dignity and honor. And at this point, you don’t give a damn about anything else other than giving in to your desires.

“Shut the fuck up, Wony.” You have no response either, so you just grab on the sides of her face and pull her into another kiss. “Just shut the fuck up and take this dick like the cumslut you are.” Fuck it. You go back to the hickeys you’ve made earlier and turn them to an even darker shade of red, making it near impossible to hide the sinful events that took place tonight. No worries, it’s not like you two are planning to leave this house for the next two days anyways. You want to make sure that you’ve fucked her in every single corner and in every position manageable. You don’t see it but a smirk appeared on her face. She got you worked up again like she wanted and it caused you to be even more aggressive just like how she wanted. You really are just a moth to her flame, how pathetic.

“Of course, where else would I want your cum? Turn me into your breeding bunny, daddy.” A sultry whisper to your ear and it unlocks an even more primal side from you. Plant your feet on the couch and you begin to fuck her with reckless abandon like the wild animal you are. Wrap her long legs around your waist and lift yourselves off the couch, a position that almost makes your knees give out. But your leg muscles are there for a reason as you grab on the back of her thighs and pound her relentlessly. It’s raw, it’s hot, and it’s so fucking passionate. The way her sweaty body would lift high up in the air before gravity brings it right back to your cock, the way she clings on to you for dear life, the way she tries to kiss you despite it being an almost impossible task. The air grows increasingly hot signaling your impending orgasm.

“I-I can’t hold on much longer—ah, shit. I can’t hold on much longer, fuck.” Thank goodness her floor isn’t made out of carpet because her slick starts to seep out of her pussy with every deep thrust. Usually she would respond with a one-liner but she’s so deep into her own world of ecstasy that all she could do is cry and wail as your spearing length continues to drive home into her cervix. You can’t talk that much more either because the familiar, bubbling sensation in your stomach only grows with each thrust. And the way she clings on to you for dear life, screaming to the world how good your cock is only serves to expedite and intensify your eventual undoing. It only leads you closer to completely unraveling like she intends you to, like how you’re supposed to.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuckkk! I’m gonna fucking cum inside you, Wony. Gonna cum and fill that tight pussy.” 

“Don’t fucking stop, daddy, I-I’m gonna cum as well. Please—“

“FUCK!”

With one final deep and unrelenting thrust, you completely explode. It’s a shout that’s definitely justifiable enough to cause your eviction, even more so as she joins you in your peak. It’s a sensation that’s overwhelming and numbing at once. Your vision is filled with white. You can feel your ears ringing, legs completely giving out as you crash back down on the couch. An out-of-body experience that only happens with her leading you to become breathless and scrambling for air. You won’t stop cumming, can’t stop cumming as ropes upon ropes of semen continue to unload inside her, every jolt of your hips make sure to shoot your cum deep and fill her walls white. It fills you to and over the brim with bliss, a feeling that you want to chase over and over again. It’s addicting, it’s mind blowing, and it leaves your balls completely drained inside her. So much so that your cum immediately starts dripping out of her fucked pussy as soon as the last spurts have been left inside her, an erotic sight that you will never get tired of. 

A few minutes past before the tremors completely stop and you engage in a mindless makeout session with her to help you two calm down. Brush loose strands of disheveled hair aside as you can gradually feel her breathing return to normal, wrap your arms around her waist possessively and she squeals due to her heightened sensitivity. “You filled me up so well daddy, fuck…..” Wonyoung takes a finger and swipes at a streak of cum that drizzled out of her and brings it to her mouth as if it was spilled ice cream, her facial expression indiscernible. “Yum! Next time I want it all in my mouth, m’kay?”

“God, you’re insatiable.”

She gives you a kiss, then she starts grinding her hips again. “Only for you, daddy.” 

[osaemu]

ミ★ quick learner 🜸

pairing: student! gojo x reader

summary: to you, chemistry means two things – the worst subject on earth and the best feeling ever. satoru somehow teaches you both.

word count: ~2.0k

notes: suggestive. modern au. mentions of organic chemistry. making out. guest appearance by geto. gojo calls you 'smart girl' at one point. rushed. barely proofread. written while i was half asleep. like always, reblogs are very very appreciated.

a/n: i genuinely don't know how i feel about this one... there are parts i like and parts i don't like (that i was too lazy to fix) and it's kinda just stitched together ... lmk what you think in the comments pretty pls 💞

"question four – what's the difference between molarity and molality?"

"wait, those are two different things?"

since you and satoru had both procrastinated studying for your impending chemistry test, you found yourselves at the library long past midnight. 

it was an accident – when you had decided to study in the library instead of at home, you hadn't anticipated running into anyone you knew. but of course, satoru gojo, the charismatic guy in your english class, was here too. 

you wouldn't say that the two of you were close – acquaintances was a better word. satoru and you knew of each other and were on friendly terms, but until now you had never really taken the time to talk alone.

but hey, just because you didn't know the guy that well didn't mean you were about to turn down a free study partner. especially one as attractive as satoru, although it was admittedly a bit distracting when you were trying to focus on your work.

it wasn't his fault – his long, white lashes were just naturally mesmerizing. and his eyes? breathtaking. even in the dim light of the library, his eyes shone like crystals. you didn't even want to start thinking about his hands, his jawline, and certainly not his body, otherwise you'd be studying something else the whole night – him and his stupidly attractive self.

after a ton of mental self-chiding, you finally manage to get your priorities straight and actually try to study, but what started as a study session gradually turned into a tutoring session when you two realized that one of you needed a lot more help than the other.

and to your dismay, that was you.

"you really thought molarity and molality were the same thing?" satoru scoffs, shamelessly grinning. "y'know, it's really a miracle you have an A in the class. you don't deserve it."

"shut up," you reply, knowing only too well that he was right. the only reason you were able to maintain a good grade in this stupid chemistry class was because the teacher offered a ridiculous amount of extra credit.

but unfortunately, you couldn't float on that boat for much longer. your grade was still slowly slipping, from a 95 to a 93 to what was now a flat 90, and your pride wouldn't let that number fall any further.

satoru laughs and shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair. "c'mon, at least tell me what molarity is."

"uhh, that's moles per liter, right?"

he nods and twirls a pen in between his fingers. "yeah, that's right. now what's molality?"

"how should i know? i don't pay attention in class," you groan, resting your head in your palm.

satoru rolls his eyes, and you take a moment to appreciate how gorgeous they are. they were a color somewhere in between cerulean and ocean blue, further enhanced by his long white lashes.

your admiration quickly fades to indignation when satoru clicks his tongue and starts rattling off some dictionary definition of molality.

"y'know, you'd know more if you weren't on your phone the whole time in class," he says dryly. 

you groan again and lean back in your chair. "it's just so boringgg," you whine, pushing the chemistry worksheet away. "forget it, i'll just guess on the test tomorrow. it usually works."

as you start to sweep your pencils and papers into your bag, satoru grabs your wrist and gets you to meet his ocean-blue eyes. "i'll feel bad if you do badly because i didn't help you enough."

his grip on your wrist is firm but gentle as he leans a millimeter closer. "let me help you, yeah?"

after a beat of silence, you nod and look away. his glacial eyes are piercing in the kind of way that makes you think he can see right through you, and you don't like the feeling of being readable.

"so, am i gonna have to force you to pay attention or will you do it yourself?"

the question catches you off guard. something about the way he asks it makes it very clear that it's a genuine question – either you can try and make yourself focus or he can make you.

you don't quite know what the latter means, but it sounds more fun, so that's what you pick.

and that's how you ended up on his lap, hair wrapped around his fingers as he quizzed you from behind. 

satoru had somehow motivated you to actually try and study by rewarding you with a kiss for every question you got right. had the offer come from anyone else, you would've called them a creep, but satoru was attractive and he knew it. on top of that, he wasn't afraid to use his good looks to get what he wanted, which, in this case, was for you to do good on tomorrow's test.

"avogadro's number?"

"umm, 6.022 x 10 to the 23rd?"

satoru nods and kisses the side of your face, lips trailing over your jawline as his eyes flick back to where he'd scribbled a couple practice questions.

"how many bonds can hydrogen form?"

"one."

this time, his lips touch your neck, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in your body to hold back the embarrassing sound you can feel at the bottom of your throat.

"last question, how many bonds can carbon form?"

this time, your voice comes out breathier than you expected. "four, right?"

"smart girl." 

and now, for the first time this night, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips. he doesn't linger and he doesn't give you any chance to savor the taste of his lips – one second his mouth is pressed to yours, the next it's moving with words you don't quite absorb.

he rifles through a couple papers and makes a face. "actually, my bad, there's more. not much," he quickly adds when he sees you groan. "just some stuff we didn't cover completely at the beginning."

"you're the worst."

"you'd fail without me."

"maybe, but at least i'd be happier."

despite your playful jabs, the truth that studying with satoru was a lot more bearable than studying by yourself, and it was also a lot easier to stay awake. before you knew it, two hours came and went, and you were practically an expert on everything that could possibly be on the test tomorrow.

and when you're finally able to confidently tell satoru the difference between molarity and molality, that's when he turns you around on his lap to face him and presses his lips to yours again, and this time, he doesn't pull away.

"you're a quick learner, aren't you?" satoru mumbles against your lips. he pulls back for a second to get some air before grabbing your chin and leaning in for more. "yeah, i wonder what else i could teach you. you wanna find out, pretty?"

you're not entirely sure when the studying ended and the making out started, but you certianly do know when the making out ended. 

before you could reply to satoru's rather suggestive question, a message blared from the speakers around the library and interrupted whatever you two had going on.

" it is now closing time. all remaining students, please return to your residential places immediately."

satoru chuckles and nudges you off of his lap before standing up and stretching. "well, it's almost 3, we should get some rest." 

"yeah, that's probably smart."

"of course it is. i'm smart."

"yeah yeah," you mumble after a second when no better retort comes to mind. probably because he was telling the truth – satoru was smart, and he knew it. 

"well, i'll see you tomorrow," he says, sweeping the remainder of his stuff into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. "good luck on the test, you'll do great."

you smile and zip up your own backpack before heading towards the exit on the other side of the library, his words buzzing around your head and the memory of his mouth fresh on your lips the whole way home.

"satoru, satoru! guess what i got on my test!"

after you made your way home from the library last night, you slept like a rock. barely a minute after you tiredly stumbled into your oh-so welcoming bed, you were out. 

despite only getting around five or six hours of sleep, you felt pretty damn good the next morning as you sat down to take your chemistry exam. and that good feeling stayed with you the whole test, and when you finished, you were able to confidently set your paper on your teacher's desk.

well, as confidently as anyone could set a piece of paper down anyways.

but now it was lunchtime, and a soft chiming sound from your phone signaled that the test was score and put into your grade. your hands shook slightly as you tapped the notification, but to your delight, a 97 lit up your screen.

and of course, who else could you credit with this besides satoru? so you walked over to where you'd seen him hang around during lunch and called out his name, but you really hadn't anticipated company.

"ah, satoru, who's this?" the dark-haired boy beside satoru asked, voice light with interest. "have you been seeing someone and not telling me about it?"

satoru laughs and shoves the guy's shoulder before turning to you and grinning. "sorry 'bout him. yeah, what was your score?"

he has a lollipop in his mouth, and as he raises an eyebrow at you, you feel yourself grin as you proudly say "a ninety seven! my grade went up to the mid-ninties, too!"

"smart girl. knew you could do it," satoru says, a lopsided smile spreading across his face.

"it's only 'cause of you," you say, a bit sheepishly. "without your help, i wouldn't've been able to do that."

satoru exhales a laugh and reaches out to ruffle your hair. he looks like he's about to say something before the other guy clears his throat.

"sorry to interrupt your... moment, but the lunch line is starting to grow and my patience is starting to shrink. satoru, you coming?" 

"yeah, give me a sec, suguru." 

satoru looks back down at you, sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose and cerulean eyes flashing in the sunlight. "looks like i gotta go."

you nod and wave him off. "yeah, i'll see you around, i guess. thanks so much for the help, really. i owe you one."

satoru grins and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth. still looking at you intently, he runs his tongue over the lollipop one last time before sticking in your mouth.

"you wanna pay me back for tutoring you last night?" satoru asks, smirking at the surprised look on your face. "drop by my place tonight. i'll teach you something else this time."

he leans in and gives you a quick, sugary kiss before turning away and walking in the direction geto left in, leaving you with nothing but a tingling sensation in your lips and a promise to see you soon.

satoru laughs to himself as he walks away, waving one hand back at you without bothering to turn around. when he catches up to suguru, the latter notices the wide smirk satoru dons and asks about it.

"oh, it's nothing. just looking forward to tonight."

you were, too.

a/n: if i wrote smut i'd write a pt 2 to this. maybe one day idk

i'm probably going to get back to writing some more angst after i finish the last of my requests. i miss writing fics that make people cry /hj

if you haven't already, check out some of my other jjk fics in my masterlist (below!)

anyways thank u vvv much for reading, reblogs are always very appreciated 💞

masterlist

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 6: Her emotions

Summary: Friday's therapy session turns into camping with you.. where accidents happen.

Warnings: DRUNK WEDNESDAY! Light Angst. EmotonallyConfusedWednesday!!!! Getting Drugged Accidentally

(Note: It is a veryyyy long chapter, Tell me how you guys liked it, or if drunk Wednesday seemed out of character, I won't mind)

Chapter 1

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By the time Thursday rolled around, the pattern had solidified itself, like a storm cloud hanging persistently on the horizon. Every morning, you’d sit beside Wednesday in the quad, annoyingly persistent but never enough for her to feel justified in telling you to leave. You had a knack for toeing the line—just far enough to irk her but never enough to earn her outright rejection.

In class, the routine was much the same. You’d slip into the seat beside her as if it were your rightful place. The second you sat down, her entire world seemed to narrow, every sense heightened in your proximity. The faint rustle of your clothes, the soft sighs you made when the lecture got particularly dull, the slight tap of your fingers against your notebook—it all became a package of distractions.

She tried to make sense of it all. Why would you go through such efforts to get close to her? You are definitely working for someone. Perhaps Thornhill? Or worse—another follower of crackstone? Could you have been a spy? Sent to observe her? To get closer and learn her weaknesses?

"What are you really doing here?" Wednesday’s voice was low, more to herself than to you. Her eyes remained focused on the blackboard, but her thoughts were elsewhere—specifically on the constant, irritating sensation of your presence. You blinked in surprise, your pen pausing mid-word. "Uh… learning? Isn’t that why we’re all here?" "Don’t insult my intelligence." Her eyes narrowed, her voice growing colder, “Why are you always here? Sitting beside me, following me like a shadow. It’s pathetic.” You leaned in closer, your breath warm against her ear. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.” Wednesday's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Enjoy? You find my disdain enjoyable?” A shrug. “I find you enjoyable. Everything else is just part of the package.”

That caught her off guard. For a moment, she didn’t have a response and it took all her self-control to avoid showing how much that unsettled her. She hated that you always had the upper hand in conversations like this. She hated that your attention felt like a weight she couldn’t shake. Most of all, she hated that a part of her—however small and buried deep—wondered what it would be like to let you in.

Wednesday didn't particularly care for or against Fridays. They were simply another day in the endless monotony of her existence. But this Friday? It was different. It was another one of those irritating anger management sessions—a pointless exercise orchestrated by fools, for fools. And now, she had to endure it with you. As if her tolerance for idiocy wasn’t already at its breaking point.

She had barely gotten herself dressed when the inevitable, irritating sound of knocking echoed through her door. "Do you ever get tired of existing so obnoxiously?" she asked, her voice cold and flat. You smirked, unfazed. "Not if it means I get to hang out with you." "Ugh," Wednesday muttered under her breath, reaching for her black trench coat. Before you could say another word, Enid popped into the doorway. "Ooh, look at you!" she said, her eyes lighting up as she saw you. "That dress is so cute! It really suits you." You beamed. "Thanks, Enid! Thought I’d try something different." Wednesday rolled her eyes. "Different? You look like a walking garden. I half expect bees to swarm you the moment we step outside." You shrugged with a grin, clearly enjoying her jabs. "I’ll take that as a compliment." "It wasn’t," she deadpanned, slipping into her coat. "Let’s go. If we’re late, David will prolong the session for me."

As you two made your way out of the dorm, Enid waved goodbye cheerfully. "Have fun at therapy!" Wednesday shot her a glare that screamed ‘I’d rather die,’ "So, you excited for today?" you asked, the teasing lilt in your voice grating against her already thin patience. "Excited would imply I feel any sense of positive anticipation," Wednesday responded coolly. "No. Today is just another unfortunate event in a long string of unfortunate events." "Yeah, that sounds about right," you agreed with a chuckle. "Though, spending time with me can’t be that bad." Wednesday shot you a side glance. "Your self-delusion is truly remarkable." "Oh, I’m well aware of my delusions, but hey, they keep me going."

She sighed, trying to ignore the warmth of your presence next to her. It was irritating, how familiar the rhythm of walking beside you had become. You always matched her steps perfectly, never rushing, never falling behind.

Wednesday would've preferred the taxi ride to be as silent as it can get but of course, you filled the silence with light conversation, asking her the most mundane questions imaginable, while Wednesday sat stiffly beside you, arms crossed, staring out the window. "So, I was thinking," you began, pausing for dramatic effect, "do you think if I ordered a black coffee today, I’d be more like you?" "No," she answered immediately. "You didn’t even think about it." "Because I already know the answer. You could drink a gallon of black coffee, wear all black, and listen to Beethoven’s most haunting symphony, and you’d still be as painfully cheerful as you are now." You grinned, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I think there’s a part of you that secretly enjoys my company. You’d miss me if I stopped hanging around." "I’d miss you like I’d miss an infection," she said coldly, her eyes never leaving the window. But even as she said it, there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. The truth was, your absence would be noticed. After all, you were always there. And when you weren’t, it left a strange, hollow space in her day. Not that she would ever admit it.

"Ah, there they are!" David called, his voice loud and cheerful, as if he had been waiting all day just for your arrival. He was wearing his usual obnoxiously bright scarf and smiling wide enough to make Wednesday wish she’d turned back sooner.

"Wonderful to see you both! We’re doing something a little different today!" he announced enthusiastically as you and Wednesday approached.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. "Different how?" she asked, already expecting the worst.

David motioned toward a minibus parked just outside the café. "Today, we’re going on a therapeutic field trip! Under the open skies, connecting with nature. It’s going to be great!"

Wednesday’s entire demeanor stiffened, and her gaze darkened. "I refuse," she said flatly. "I did not sign up for some kumbaya nonsense in the middle of a field. If you think—"

"If you refuse," David interrupted, holding up a finger, "I’ll have no choice but to report to Principal Weems that you’re not making progress. And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?"

Wednesday’s expression turned venomous. She stood still, glaring at David with pure disdain. "You are a stain on humanity." "Not the first time I’ve heard that!" David replied, still grinning. "Now hop on the bus, both of you." Wednesday clenched her jaw, resisting every instinct to turn and leave. The bus was small and cramped, all those fools were already there. and Wednesday had already claimed the farthest seat in the back, as far away from everyone as possible. You slid in next to her, earning a sideways glare. "Don’t get comfortable," she said icily. "Too late," you replied, settling in with a smirk. As the bus rumbled to life and began its journey to the woods, Wednesday stared out the window, her mind racing. She hated every second of this. But more than that, she hated how… unsettled she felt with you next to her. She hated how she could feel your presence, how your every movement drew her attention. And she hated that she didn’t want you to leave. Maybe this session would offer more than just torturous fresh air—maybe it would give her the chance to figure out why you were really here. Because Wednesday knew one thing for certain: you were hiding something. And she was going to find out what it was, whether you liked it or not.

David, at the front of the bus, was chattering to the driver, too excited for whatever nonsense he had planned. "How much longer do you think this torture will last?" Wednesday muttered under her breath, her eyes fixed out the window, watching the trees blur by. You leaned closer, a smile tugging at your lips. "Not a fan of the great outdoors, Wednesday?" "No, I had my fair share in the woods. I prefer my environment to be hostile," she replied coolly The bus finally rolled to a stop at the edge of a dense forest. David hopped off first, "Alright, we’re heading to the lake! It’s about two hours walk, but don’t worry—we’ll take breaks if anyone needs it! Stretch those legs—we've got a nice hike ahead" Wednesday let out a sigh, muttering, “And thus, the descent into idiocy begins.” She glanced at you, fully expecting to see that infuriating grin of yours, and she was not disappointed. "Come on, Wends," you said, using the nickname you knew she despised. "It’ll be fun." "It will be insufferable," she corrected, stepping down from the bus with her usual grace. She was already too bored to correct you. “Man, I thought we were gonna talk about our feelings. Not… hike.” Alex complained. "Alex. It’s about the journey—learning to appreciate nature and each other." David answered from up ahead Wednesday stayed near the back as the group began to march forward, already regretting every moment of this cursed field trip. You, of course, kept pace beside her, walking with that irritating bounce in your step. "So," you said after a few moments of silence. "What do you think the lake looks like?" "Water," Wednesday deadpanned. Rick whistling low under his breath. “Can’t believe we’re actually doing this. You still got the shovel?” Ashley elbowed him in the ribs again, her voice a low hiss. “Shut up, Rick.” “So, like, do you think there are any wolves around here? Or, ooh, maybe bears! Wouldn’t that be so dramatic?” Brooked chipped. Mike looked like he was seriously considering abandoning her in the woods. “I… really don’t think there are bears, Brooke.” “Oh, but wouldn’t it be romantic? You saving me from a bear or something?” Mike just groaned Wednesday caught snippets of their conversation, her irritation growing with every inane comment. She muttered under her breath, “I would gladly throw her to a bear.” “Isn’t this just wonderful? The fresh air, the sound of birds, the gentle rustle of leaves! A perfect day for personal growth!” David cheered from the front. You were trying to stifle a laugh beside Wednesday, but it slipped out. “You gotta admit, he’s really into this.” “I have nothing to admit,” Wednesday muttered darkly. As they walked. Wednesday found herself paying far too much attention to your reactions—the slight smile on your face, the way you occasionally glanced at her when you thought she wasn’t looking. It was intriguing irritating.

Eventually, the trees began to thin out, the scent of water growing stronger as the lake came into view.

Mike was the first to notice it, squinting at the far side of the clearing. "Uh… guys? What’s with the tents?"

David clapped his hands together, that annoyingly chipper smile still plastered across his face. "Ah, yes! About that—"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed.

David gave an exaggerated shrug. "Oops! Did I forget to mention we’re staying the night?"

The entire group froze.

"What?" Alex’s voice dropped, his fists clenched. "Staying overnight?"

Rick stared at David like he’d just been sentenced to death. "Nah, no way. I’ve got plans. You can’t just spring this on us."

Ashley threw up her hands. "David, you didn’t say anything about camping! I didn’t even pack!"

Brooke, unsurprisingly, clapped her hands together. "This is amazing! We’re going to spend the night under the stars—just like in the movies!"

"Of course you’re excited," Mike grumbled. "This is a disaster."

Meanwhile, Wednesday stood there, silently seething. Her mind was racing with all the ways she could strangle David without leaving a trace. "You ambushed us," she said, her voice cold, each word clipped. "Do you have a death wish?"

David chuckled nervously. "Oh, come on, guys. It’ll be fun! A little nature retreat, some time away from distractions—" Wednesday interrupted, her tone venomous. "The only thing distracting me right now is the overwhelming desire to set this entire campsite ablaze." You, of course, were clearly enjoying this, "Well, this is unexpected, but kind of exciting, right? At least the lake is beautiful!" She stared at you with her deadpan expression, trying to comprehend how anyone could be happy about this situation. "I sincerely hope the lake swallows you whole." You only grinned wider. "Guess I’ll take that as an invitation for a swim later." "Ugh," she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as though she could ward off the headache brewing in her skull. David, trying desperately to salvage the situation, raised his hands. "It’s not that bad, I promise! The tents are already set up, and we’ve got food, water, and supplies. This will be a great opportunity to unwind and connect with nature." You nudged her lightly with your elbow. "Hey, at least you’ve got me here to keep you company." "You’re the worst part of this." "Aw, don’t be like that. I’ll make sure you have fun." Wednesday resisted the urge to shove you into the lake. Each person got their own tent, which was the one small mercy in this nightmare of an outing. Wednesday glanced at the others, some fumbling with their tents or laughing awkwardly, completely unaware of how insufferable they were. Of course, you were helping David get the campfire going, your face lit up with a soft smile as you fumbled with the firewood. Wednesday watched you from the corner of her eye, wondering how you could seem so content in this ridiculous situation. You didn't seem annoyed or put off like she was—you were just… happy to help. She couldn't understand it. She had been relegated to "supervision duty," which meant standing around doing absolutely nothing while everyone else bustled about with assigned tasks. Mike and Alex were handling the food, Brooke was talking to some random birds like they were her long-lost cousins, and Rick and Ashley were off near the lake, laughing about who knew what.

David, with his typical cheery disposition, waved everyone over. "Alright, everyone, gather around! The fire's going, and it's almost time for our session!" Great. The therapy session. The exact reason Wednesday wanted to bury herself in the woods and never return. But she had to stay—for now because she had to find out why you were everywhere. She watched as you placed a few more logs on the fire before stepping back and joining the group. She hated how naturally you fit into all this, while every second felt like torture for her.

As the sky darkened, the session began. Wednesday sat at the edge of the group, her fingers twitching toward her coat pocket where her knives were hidden. Five knives. She let her mind wander to the logistics of taking them all out. David was the priority. Strangling him would be more satisfying, but a quick knife to the throat would be efficient. She could— "Wednesday?" She blinked and glanced at you, irritated at being pulled back into reality. You looked at her expectantly, probably wondering why she was spacing out. David cleared his throat, obviously oblivious to her thoughts. "Okay, let's start! Today's session is still all about discussing our most recent challenges. How we handled them, what we learned… you know the drill." Wednesday's expression tightened. Oh, she knew the drill all too well. Each session was the same monotonous routine—listening to everyone talk about their mundane problems and pretend they were making progress. It was a miracle she hadn't stabbed someone by now.

Alex started first, talking about how he got into a fight with his dad over some trivial matter. "But I didn't punch a wall this time," he added proudly, and Milo gave him a sleepy nod of approval. "That's great, Alex!" David beamed. "You're learning to manage your anger better."

Next up was Brooke, who dramatically recounted some "epic argument" she'd had with her mom over her phone privileges. "But I didn't give in! I stood my ground, because self-care is important, right?" David nodded enthusiastically, clearly buying into Brooke's theatrics. "Absolutely, Brooke. Boundaries are important."

Wednesday's eyes flicked to the campfire. Maybe she could just throw herself into it. That would be preferable to listening to more of this.

Mike's was about some misunderstanding with his sister, while Rick rambled on about his mother. Wednesday could feel her patience thinning with each passing second.

And then... it was her turn. David looked at her expectantly. "Wednesday, how about you? Have you faced any challenges lately?" She stared at him, the burning firelight reflected in her dark eyes. The group was silent, waiting for her to share some deep revelation. Of course, David had to push a bit, flashing his annoyingly encouraging smile. "It helps to talk, you know. We're all in this together." That was it. That was the final straw.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, and she felt something snap inside her. "You want to know about my challenges?" she began, her voice dangerously calm. "My challenge is sitting here, surrounded by imbeciles, pretending that anything you people say has any merit. I don't care about your 'self-care' or your 'boundaries' or how you didn't punch a wall for the first time in months, Alex." Everyone froze. The campfire crackled in the silence as Wednesday's words hung in the air. "And you," she turned to Brooke, "standing your ground with your mother over your phone privileges, are you serious? That's not a challenge. That's pathetic. The fact that any of you think you're achieving something meaningful by whining about your trivial lives is insufferable." Then she pointed to Rick "You keep whining about your mother but you are so dependent on her that you can't even move out. How about you fix that and then whine." David opened his mouth to speak, but Wednesday cut him off. "Don't. Just don't. I've had enough of this ridiculous charade." She stood abruptly, her black coat swirling as she turned on her heel and stormed away from the group. You sighed, David giving you a look. "Yeah I know I know, I am going to get her, but umm.. if I do not return, look for me in the lake, that's where she might throw my body." The water shimmered in the fading light as she reached the far side of the lake. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, trying to calm the storm raging inside her.

But then, she heard footsteps behind her. Of course it was you.

"Wednesday," you said softly, your voice cautious as you approached. She didn’t respond at first, her eyes fixed on the shimmering water in front of her. For a moment, you wondered if she even heard you. But then, slowly, she turned her head, her dark eyes locking onto yours. There was a storm in those eyes—anger, frustration, something deeper that she was too proud to acknowledge.

"I don’t want to talk," she said flatly, "Go back to the group. I’m fine here."

You ignored her dismissal, walking closer until you were standing beside her, staring at the same water. "I’m not leaving you alone, Wednesday. Not when you’re this upset."

She let out a sharp breath through her nose, clearly irritated. "Upset? I’m not upset. I’m annoyed. There’s a difference."

"Right. Annoyed." You nodded, as if you were going along with her, but your voice remained soft, patient. "You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but... I just don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be."

Wednesday shot you a glare, her eyebrow arching in disdain. "Do you enjoy this?" she snapped. "Being part of David’s circus, listening to everyone complain about how tragic their lives are?"

You met her gaze, unfazed by her sharp tone. "It’s not about enjoying it, Wednesday. It’s about trying. Everyone has something going on, and sometimes, talking about it helps. Even if it seems pointless at first."

"Pointless is an understatement," she muttered, turning her eyes back to the lake. "All they do is whine. They don’t solve anything, they just sit around, waiting for someone else to fix their lives for them."

"Not everyone’s as good at handling things alone as you are," you replied gently. "But even you—sometimes you don’t have to handle everything by yourself. Opening up doesn’t make you weak."

She clenched her jaw, her fingers twitching slightly as if she was fighting the urge to argue. "Opening up is a waste of time. It accomplishes nothing. People think sharing their problems will magically solve them, but in the end, they’re still the ones who have to deal with it. Words don’t change that." You sighed softly, recognizing the walls she was building around herself. But you didn’t give up. You couldn’t. You had a mission.

"It’s not about solving everything in one conversation. It’s about letting go, even for a little while. It gives you room to breathe, to think clearly without all that pressure building up inside."

"I don’t need to breathe," she said finally, though her voice was quieter than before, less sharp. "I’m perfectly fine handling things on my own."

"I know you are," you said softly, turning to face her fully. "But that doesn’t mean you have to. You don’t always have to be so... closed off."

Wednesday didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes flickered, something unreadable crossing her expression before she quickly masked it with her usual stoic demeanor. She sighed, clearly exasperated, but there was a hint of something softer in her voice when she finally spoke.

"Why do you even care?" she asked, her tone quieter now, almost vulnerable. "Why do you insist on dragging me into these... emotions?"

You smiled softly, knowing how hard it was for her to even ask that question. "Because I care about you, Wednesday. And I don’t want to see you carrying everything by yourself. I don't want to see you ending up alone. Even if you think you’re fine, it doesn’t hurt to let someone else in every once in a while."

She turned her head slightly, her eyes studying your face as if she were searching for some hidden motive. But all she found was sincerity. That seemed to bother her more than anything else.

"I’m not... good at this," she muttered, her voice almost too low to hear. "You don’t have to be," you replied.

For a long moment, Wednesday was silent, her expression unreadable as she stared at the lake. Then, with a resigned sigh, she turned on her heel and began walking back toward the campfire, clearly unwilling to admit that she was even considering your words.

You followed, relieved that she hadn’t completely shut down.

When the two of you returned to the camp, the group was still sitting around the fire, chatting quietly. To your surprise, no one seemed particularly upset about Wednesday’s earlier outburst. In fact, David greeted her with a bright smile, completely unfazed.

"Ah, Wednesday! Glad to have you back," he welcomed her cheerfully as if nothing had happened. Wednesday narrowed her eyes slightly. "Did you call Principal Weems to notify her about my "failure"? " David chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Of course not! Everyone needs to vent sometimes. It’s healthy." The others nodded in agreement. Rick smirked a little, but even he didn’t seem too bothered. "Honestly, I kind of expected you to blow up sooner. That was nothing compared to what I thought you’d do." Ashley gave Wednesday an exaggerated wink. "I like a girl who speaks her mind."

Wednesday blinked, clearly taken aback by their nonchalant reactions. She had expected them to be offended, maybe even hold a grudge. But they seemed... fine. Completely fine.

She sat down reluctantly, her posture stiff as ever, but there was a faint crack in her emotional armor. "I still think this is a waste of time," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual venom.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and winced. “I have to take this,” you muttered to Wednesday, who shot you an irritated look. You mouthed an apology and stepped away, leaving Wednesday sitting awkwardly with the group.

David gently steered the conversation back to her. “Wednesday, do you want to share? You don’t have to, of course, but we’re here if you want to talk.”

The urge to reject him outright surged within her, but something—perhaps your words, perhaps the nagging feeling in her chest—made her hesitate. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her coat, and she looked away from the group, staring at the flames instead.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “There’s someone... someone who’s been getting under my skin. Someone who I can’t seem to get out of my head.”

The words felt foreign on her tongue, uncomfortable and raw, but she couldn’t stop them. The group remained silent, waiting, not pushing her.

“This person,” she continued, her voice cold but wavering, “is... everywhere. They keep showing up in my life, in my thoughts. And I don’t want them to. But I can’t stop it. It’s... infuriating.”

David nodded, encouraging her gently. “And how does that make you feel?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” Wednesday snapped, her temper flaring. “Annoyed. Angry. It’s like they’ve invaded my mind, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake them. I don’t like feeling out of control.”

David nods, his tone patient. “How would you feel if you could get rid of those thoughts? Push them out entirely?” Wednesday frowns, the question catching her off guard. She thinks for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she considers it. She felt strange.. she thought she would feel better but she feels.. "Empty." The word tasted bitter on her tongue, foreign and unwelcome. She didn’t realize she had said it out loud until she saw the group’s reactions—or lack thereof. No judgment, no pity. Just quiet acceptance. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

David nods. “Sometimes, the things we resist the most are the things we need to hold on to. They can fill a part of us we didn’t even know was empty.”

Rick leaned forward with a grin on his face,

“So... is this 'someone' on the phone right now?”

Wednesday's head whipped around, her eyes narrowing into a deadly glare. "If you value your life, you'll stop talking."

Rick held up his hands in surrender, but the grin remained. Ashley quickly elbowed him, muttering, “Not the time, Rick.”

Alex groaned loudly, clutching his head in mock agony. "Ugh, All the emotional talk is making me sleepy, I need coffee, like, now. Someone, please, for the love of all that’s good in this world, make some coffee." David looked over at Rick and Ashley. "Alright, Rick, Ashley, why don't you two get the coffee started before Alex dies." Rick gave a half-hearted salute. "On it, boss." He turned to Ashley, who was lounging beside him. "Hey, go grab the sugar from my bag, will you? Ashley rolled her eyes but obliged, getting up with a huff to retrieve the 'sugar' from Rick's bag. Meanwhile, Rick turned to Wednesday, a sly grin on his face. "So, Addams, how do you take your coffee?" "Bitter," she replied finally, her voice flat. "Just like life." Rick snorted, shaking his head. "Of course. Should’ve guessed."

As Wednesday sat there waiting for the coffee to be made, she found herself growing restless. That hollow, gnawing emptiness she had tried so hard to ignore began to surface again, tightening in her chest. Where had you gone? You were always right there, standing beside her, but now you were out of reach well you weren't actually, you were just gone for a few moments and she hated it.

As the minutes ticked by, Wednesday’s thoughts drifted further. What did it mean?

The quiet chaos of her thoughts was interrupted when Rick handed her a cup of coffee. "Here you go, black as death itself."

She took the cup without a word, the warmth spreading through her hands as she stared into the dark liquid. She sipped it, expecting the usual bitterness. But this...this was different. It tasted...a bit weird but more than the coffee, it was her feelings for you that occupied her mind. How had she ended up here? Talking about her emotions, exposing herself in ways she never thought possible? She wasn’t the type to dwell on uncertainty. She preferred things to be direct, to have answers and solutions, but when it came to you—everything was blurred. Once these therapy sessions were over... where would you stand? Where would she stand?

She felt strange. The warmth of the coffee spread through her, loosening the tightness in her chest. The more she drank, the more that strange, comfortable haze settled in, drowning out her usual sharp clarity. She finished her cup without realizing it,

"More," she demanded, holding the cup out toward Rick.

"Whoa, didn’t take you for a coffee fiend," he teased, but he refilled her cup without hesitation.

What would happen once this was over? Once you both returned to your lives outside of these campfire confessions and group therapy? Would you drift apart, as people often do, or would you stay? And more importantly, did she want you to stay?

Everything felt off, but not unpleasantly so. The others were acting weird—dancing, laughing—but she didn’t care. She just wanted more of this feeling, more of the numbness that let her ignore the confusing emotions you always brought out in her. So, she drank more coffee. And more. And more.

Meanwhile, you wrapped up your call . “Yeah, Dad, YEAAAH, I GET IT. I’ll be careful. I already took them, okay? Yes, I’ll call tomorrow. Gotta go. Bye!” You sighed heavily, tucking your phone back into your pocket. That conversation had gone on way too long. You started heading back to the camp, but as you got closer, something felt... wrong. The group was acting strange. They weren’t just sitting and talking anymore—they were dancing. Not the casual, awkward dancing of people who barely knew each other, but wild, like they didn’t have a care in the world.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, scanning the group. Where was Wednesday? You searched for her, but she was nowhere near the fire.

“David,” you called out, hurrying over to him. “Where’s Wednesday?”

David looked at you, his eyes glazed over, a lazy grin on his face. “Wednesday? Today’s Friday... right?”

You blinked. “What? What does that have to do with—never mind.” You looked past him and saw Wednesday, walking by the lake with a... distinct wobble. Your heart skipped a beat. Wednesday Addams didn’t wobble. She is as steady and composed as a statue.

As you approached, you heard her voice—low, muttering, and oddly slurred. "You... why do you do this to me? Always... being there. Except when you're not, which is even worse. But then you're there again, and I hate it, but... I don’t hate it."

You blinked, utterly confused. "Wednesday?"

She turned, almost tripping over her own feet, and gave you a look that could only be described as... perplexed. But not the usual cold, calculated Wednesday-perplexed—this was more... tipsy.

"Ahh, it’s you," she said, squinting at you like you were a strange object she couldn’t quite figure out. "Why are you always... there?" She waved her hand in a vague circle. "Like... just there, making everything... feel... confusing."

You stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. Wednesday never talked like this. "Wednesday, what are you talking about?"

She pointed a finger at you, jabbing it in your direction with surprising force, but her balance was completely off. "You! You make everything so... so... confusing. I don’t like it. But also... I kind of like it. And I hate that I like it. You’re... annoying. But I get more annoyed when you’re not here."

"Okay, Wednesday..." you took a step closer, noticing how she swayed again, her expression shifting between annoyance and something else—something vulnerable. "What’s going on with you?"

"I don’t know!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air dramatically, completely out of character. "I never know with you. I think about you, and it’s like... ugh, why are you in my head?"

Realization slapped you harder than Will Smith's slap to Chris Rock.

“Wednesday, are you... drunk?”

She squinted at you as if your question was offensive. “I don’t get drunk,” she declared. “I’m above such mortal weaknesses. But you... you make everything so complicated. You and your... your stupid face.”

You grabbed her hand to steady her. Her skin was cool to the touch, but the moment you made contact, she froze, staring down at your hand in hers. “Why does this—this thing always feel weird?” she muttered, her voice lower now. “Your hand… it does this thing... makes me feel… something. I don’t like it. But I do. And that’s the problem.”

You ignored the way your heart raced at her words, focusing instead on what was clearly the problem. You glanced back at the camp, suspicion building. Rick. It had to be him. You reached into Wednesday’s coat, pulling out her knife, not paying attention to the fact that you felt several knives, and marched back toward Rick, who was still swaying around, laughing with no care in the world.

“Rick,” you growled, grabbing him by the collar and pressing the knife to his neck. “What the hell did you do?”

Rick blinked, eyes glazed, a goofy grin on his face. “Whaaat? Nothing! I just made the coffee... best coffee ever, man.”

Your eyes landed on the open box near the coffee pot. You picked it up, sniffing it. This wasn’t sugar. Your heart dropped. “Rick, you idiot,” you groaned. “You spiked the coffee!”

Rick just laughed, completely oblivious to the chaos he’d caused. Meanwhile, you glanced around at the others—dancing, laughing, totally out of their minds. Great. You were now in charge of nine drunk people,

And a high Wednesday Addams.

You sighed heavily. This is going to be a long night.

Next Chapter

[2kverrr]

JESSICA RILEY - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Jessica Riley x Reader

she’s your best friend, has been since you were 13, you’d found a similar interest in these ones girls shoes at lunch, disgusting and almost offensive.

at an instant you’d locked eyes and started laughing, since that day you became joined by the hip. all secrets told, all insecurities shared, tips and rumours shared between you two.

you’re not sure when you started feeling things for her, but it only grew.

you loved bleaching her hair for her, helping her put together different outfits, braiding her hair, just being close to her.

you two were open books when alone, so it was the hardest thing you’d ever done, hiding your feelings.

“ugh- why are my- what the fuck.” jess stands in the mirror in your bedroom, messing and fussing with her top. there was nothing wrong with it, she looked completely perfect. you sit down in front of another mirror applying your mascara. “jess, you look like a babe, we’ll only end up getting shit faced and ugly by the end of the night” you smile, looking back at the bleach blonde.

the party was at matts, emily had forced him to host there and he soon obliged, to be quite frank, he was terrified of her.

throughout the house party, jess was conversing with a few different boys, clearly selecting the lucky bunch that would be considered to be her boyfriend for the night.

“ugh they’re all meatheads” jess groans, throwing her self onto the sofa you’re sat on, you’d had a few drinks, measured by josh so you deserved a little sit down (or else you’d literally pass out)

“did you hear me?” jess prods your shoulder, dramatically your roll your head sideways onto her shoulder. “fuck ‘em” you slur with a dopey smile which jess returns.

“sometimes i do wish i was a lesbian, girls are so much nicer. all these boys,” she points across the room, “, think with their dicks, not a single brain cell between them.” and for a moment, in your drunken, delusional state, you physically felt a lightbulb appear above your head.

“i’ll let you be my girlfriend.”

“what? you’ll let me?” she giggles, but all you can do is stare at the joyful wrinkles forming by her half-closed eyes.

you slowly nod your head, eagerly but it felt as though you’re in slow motion, “uh-huh”

as intended, you drunken seduction was successful (you think, you can’t exactly remember that night).

since that silly conversation at midnight in matts house, you’re friendship had changed, you became more like a couple though neither of you established so.

you both assume you’re… dating? whatever it is, you’re perfectly content with it.

anywhere you go your hand is being tightly gripped by the blonde. most the time she doesn’t even realise.

she blatantly refuses to drive. #passengerprincess4life

it’s your usual friendship but with little quirks. kisses on the cheek, hands, lips. a lot more sleepovers. she leaves notes a lot, like a mom would in their child’s lunchbag.

LOTS of wine+gossip sessions. it’s become a friday night staple between the two of you, it always ends up in you both falling asleep on your parents’ couch.

you didn’t really plan on telling any of the group, but the trip up to josh and his sisters’ mountain lodge would make it difficult for you to have any time to yourselves. so jess took it upon herself to announce it once all of the gang were together.

the group were shocked to put it nicely. mike, josh and sam are your biggest fans despite josh’s wandering eyes and perverted mind. emily couldn’t stand seeing jess happy, so it’s was a one up for the blonde.

[lampiridaes]

♬ now playing: "you're blushing!"

-> perhaps some 'harmless flirting' isn't so harmless after all . . .

★ — chars ; ichika , airi , saki , tsukasa

★ — notes ; I HAVE NOW OFFICIALLY WRITTEN FOR EVERY PJSK CHAR!!!!! hoping nobody is SUPER ooc here......... prompt list can be found here >0< REQS WILL OPEN IN A FEW DAYSSSS WEHEHEHE

★ — warnings ; reader being flirty (ichika), hospital and saki's backstory mentioned once, established relationship (saki)

★ — requested by ; none

★ — taglist ; @akitosheart , @mintchocaur (tsukasa!!)

affiliated with @virtualbookstore ★

★ hoshino ichika :

it started off simple: ichika being her usual self, complimenting how you looked today. she was always the type of person to praise people for certain aspects, and you always thanked her for it, but today, you wanted to try something different.

"aww, you're such a sweetie, ichika, you know that?"

the tone of your voice had teasing written all over it, which stunned the girl that was standing right before you. she managed to fix her composure after a moment or two, nodding her head and smiling at you.

"ah... thank you, [name]-"

"not to mention pretty."

just like that, ichika was starstruck once more, only this time with a light blush spreading around her cheeks. her gaze darted around the room, stuttering and spamming while avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"oh, did i fluster you?"

"well... i'm..."

... seems like you broke her. perhaps if you tried a more... physical approach, you might just make her melt.

★ momoi airi :

making a girl like airi blush is very worth it. considering her personality, she acts absolutely adorable whenever you successfully fluster her!

but... what if it's the other way around for once?

you had asked airi to help teach you certain dance moves from more more jump songs, and surprisingly, she agreed!

and for today, she decided to teach you how she danced 'romeo and cinderella'!

"then, for this part, we have to get close to each other like this..."

she pointed to her and shizuku in the music video. at the moment, it seemed easy. just some arm movements and looking at each other, right?

"mhm, got it, got it."

wrong. you were a complete mess when you were actually doing it. this whole practice was just supposed to be for fun... and now you're-

"[name], are you blushing?"

"what..? no way, it's just the cold!"

"yeah. sure."

there was an awkward silence for a moment, with your face turning redder and redder by the second. eventually, airi spoke again, with an amused tone to her voice.

"you look cute, by the way."

"you're making it worse."

★ tenma saki :

considering saki was always at the hospital as a child, she never really got to try a few things. and of course, you wanted to show your girlfriend some of your favorites!

there was a brand new ice cream shop that opened, with dozens of flavors to choose from! and you'd be a fool not to bring her.

"saki, you've got some ice cream on your cheek..."

you giggle, watching your adorable girlfriend eat her ice cream so happily. despite how silly she looked, you couldn't help but fall for her even more.

"hehe... could you help remove it for me, sweetie?"

with such a simple request, how could you ignore it? but why wipe it off normally when you can help her in a special way, right?

you giggle and nod, now leaning in and making it seem like you'll use a tissue, but instead, you surprise her by kissing her on the cheek. maybe not as effective as wiping with a tissue, but so much cuter.

... which earned the even more adorable sight of your lover having this red hue to her face.

"are you alright, saki? you look a little..."

"i'm fine!"

you caught the poor girl off-guard, but... you really can't help it with how cute she looks like this.

★ tenma tsukasa :

rambling sessions with tsukasa aren't uncommon. your minds always seem connected—you say one thing, he agrees and says another... an endless cycle.

this time was... a different case, however.

it happened as it normally did. one of you initiated a topic, then both you kept yapping, yapping, and yapping... until tsukasa suddenly went quiet. not that you noticed, you were too busy talking about something that had piqued your interest.

that was until you noticed tsukasa stopped talking, though. instead of hearing his voice, laughing and agreeing with you, you were met with an adoring gaze from the boy in front of you.

"...stoooop, you're making me all..."

"hm? all what?"

but he was genuinely curious! he really had no clue what you were talking about, and you weren't helping by being so mysterious about it!

a light pink fills your cheeks, and once the future star right in front of you notices, he can't help but match with you.

"you, uh... i didn't mean make you- i mean..."

this was new. sure, he gets flustered around you at times, but to this extent? a sight to behold indeed.

"you're blushing."

"so are you!?"

[hockeybabe]

New Guy || M. Knies

Gif not mine

Pairings: Matthew Knies x Marner!reader

Summary: being Marner’s little sister had its perks but when a new guy joins the team and is cocky as ever definitely doesn’t sit well with you.

Warnings: cocky Knies, pure fluff, steamy make out session, little bit of arguing, one bed trope.

Word count: 838

Note: there’s something about Knies and I just have to write about him.

When the Leafs announced that a new guy would join the team right at the brink of the playoffs, it really pissed you off. The boys work so hard for how far they’ve gotten, and now a new guy is joining and going to mess up the connection. Or at least you thought it would.

"Can I help you?" You asked Matthew, who was standing outside your hotel room. The Leafs were competing against Tampa Bay for game six. The series was 3-2, with the Leafs leading by one. "I don’t know, roomie, can you?" He responds in a cocky tone.

"Well, that sucks for you, ‘cause there's only one bed, and it’s mine." You tilt your head with a smile. "Listen, little Marner, I don’t care if there's one bed we can share, but can you let me in? I don’t think your brother will want to hear us." He says, smirking. You move to the side, letting him in.

"You’re sleeping on the floor." You say flopping in the bed. "Nah, this bed is pretty comfortable. Especially with you in your skimpy pyjamas." He mumbles after jumping on the bed and burying his face in the sheets. "Perv." You sneered, pushing him off the bed. "What the fuck!" He shouts, getting up, looking angry.

"It's my bed." You say, bluntly, crossing your arms. "Yeah, and we have to share." He says back. "Why don’t you go sleep in someone else’s room?" You shout back, getting off the bed and going face-to-face with him. "Because I was put here." He shouts back.

"Oh my god, you’re such an ass. All you care about is yourself." You groan, letting your head fall back. "You don’t know shit." He snarls, looking down at you, anger radiating off his body. "Oh, really, so you’re not a self-centred idiotic jackass who only cares about himself and winning?" You retorted, tilting your head to the side. 

You didn’t know how it got to this point, but you two always knew how to get to each other, even if you didn’t know how it started. There was something different about this fight. It was like all emotions were running out of the two mouths. "Says the girl who lives off of her brothers money." He insults. 

"Oh fuck you. I work hard for what I do." You say quietly. "I mean, you've got it easy!" You start yelling again. "I got nothing easily! I worked fucking hard for my place! You just don’t like me!" He shouted back. "I never fuc—" Matthew grabbed the sides of your face, pulling you close and pressing his lips to yours. 

It took you a couple seconds to register what was happening, but you allowed it, kissing him back. You were the one to pull away first, looking into his eyes as your breaths collided. Matt reconnected with your lips, picking you up and taking a seat on the bed with you on top. 

You perched your body up, making you slightly taller than Matt, putting your hands on the back of his head and playing with the ends of his hair. Matt grunts at the feeling of his hair being pulled. "Kinky," he said, pulling away, smirking. "Shut up." You mumbled, pulling him into a deep kiss.

You two continued to fool around, laughing, losing clothes, and, of course, kissing. There was an unspoken rule between you two that it wouldn’t go any further than making out and kissing. So there you two were lying down under the sheets while you laid on his chest, tracing patterns on his toned body.

"You know I never hated you." You said quietly as Matthew ran his fingers through your hair. "It didn’t seem like it." He grumbled. You lifted your head, giving him a look. "Really, so me kissing you wasn’t good enough." You said, smiling slightly.

"Nah, I think I need you to kiss me again." He said it in a cocky tone, winking at you. You squint your eyes at him, lying back on his chest. "You know Mitch is going to kill you." You said. "Just me?" He laughed. "You think he’ll kill his sister?" You retorted, smiling into his chest.

"How bout we wait till that day?" He prayed, trailing his finger up and down your arm. "Tomorrow we’ll talk more about us." You remind him by closing your tired eyes. "I guess the one bed worked after all." He said, shutting the lamp off before pulling you closer to his body.

The bed and the fighting brought you guys closer, but you weren’t doing anything to fight him on that. You were too tired.

[kobold-that-bites-people]

dunno if this will get to anyone that it's relevant to, but as a transfem that's had bottom surgery (a rather standard penile inversion vaginoplasty) and is mostly recovered at this point, i'd like to give a few notes on my experience. hopefully it reaches some people who are considering and would be helped by such anecdotes. anyway, in no particular order,

it's major surgery. recovery is gonna suck about the same as other major surgeries. that said, a lot of the discomfort is frontloaded. in my case, i experienced about 2/3 of the pain i could attribute to recovery over the last six months, in the first week. the sheer drop in pain once the catheter came out alone was night and day. the first week was miserable though, you *need* someone, ideally multiple someones, who can look after you through that stage. (if you are in the green lands of not america, or just are well funded, many hospitals will look after you for the first week or so, but as a broke american i was only in hospital for about a day and a half. maybe two days, memory is a little fuzzy from the opiates (which i stopped almost as soon as i got out of the hospital, the brain fog from opiates is real)

it's been said other places, but it is really likely you will experience a lot of emotions during recovery. this can take a lot of forms, but in my case i had to grapple with a lot of "doubts" about if it was even what i wanted, if it was worth it to me, if it even looked natural enough, and so on. part of that is just that it's a major change in your body image, so doubts are normal and expected. part of it is that after major physical trauma like surgery, your body will amplify a lot of emotions intensely. try not to listen to the dysphoria talking when things still need to heal. the difference between a week from the surgery and a couple months later is *massive*.

this might be obvious to a lot of people, but for people like me that have only ever been even slightly intimate with partners that have cocks, pussies come in a *lot* of shapes. the very limited range depicted in a lot of common art and porn and games and so on, is simply not a representative sample of all the shapes that a pussy can be. despite my anxieties over my own, every person that has seen it so far has either had explicit compliments, or at least backhanded ones about how "normal" it looks.

despite how cautious doctors will be about promising function, it is entirely possible you'll have every function you might expect from a natal vagina. i get a not insignificant amount of self lubrication, can feel everything better than i dared hope for, and despite having to completely relearn what motions work for it i can reliably reach orgasms just as well as i could pre-op. that said, i don't self lubricate quite as much as *some* cis women manage. it's usually enough for fingering myself, but if i wanted to use a toy, or be penetrated by a partner, it simply isn't reasonable to go without generous lube. mostly because while i have some self-lubrication, it isn't exactly produced *quickly*, and friction can quickly dry it up, especially outside my entrance.

dilation can be many things, but it's usually mostly just tedious. it hurt *some* at the start, but once the swelling went down it generally only hurt as i went up a size. nowadays i only feel a miniscule amount of pain with the stretch as i work my largest dilator in, and that fades within about 30 seconds. the better you are at getting it done reliably, the less it will hurt. missing a session, especially earlier in recovery, will be *felt* the next time you dilate.

if you are open about your having had bottom surgery, or end up hospitalized from complications thereof, (as i did, i'll spare the medical details) there are a lot of people that will try to justify wanting to see, for motives that i'll leave as an exercise to the reader to deduce. such people will include doctors, nurses, and plenty of people with more spurious motives. i've had more people barge in on me while i was dilating within the last months since i had bottom surgery, than ever barged in on me while i was masturbating in the earlier 26 years of my life. *please* be aware that part of being perceived as "more a woman" is that you will likely experience more such attentions, in the various forms that takes. sometimes positive it is true, but usually not.

[defectivevillain]

vintage misery

pairing: obey me! brothers & reader [can be platonic or romantic]

reader’s pronouns: unspecified but masc-intended

note: my initial idea for this fic was basically just the obey me! demons not being familiar with depression and trying to help the reader in any way they can, whilst also being a lil startled/worried. sooo that’s how it goes, essentially. hurt/comfort, with mostly comfort. :0

cw: depression, mentions of suicidal ideation [can be avoided by skipping to the bolded sentence that starts with: “Lucifer nods.”]

word count: 1.8k [ao3 version here]

“How did you get up here?”

You bite your lip and pull your knees closer to your chest. You’re sitting on the roof of the mansion. The night air chills your skin, but you hardly notice over the tumultuous nature of your own thoughts. It takes you a few seconds to remember that someone has just joined you. “What?” You say, not bothering to turn around to see who’s standing behind you. They move closer and crouch to sit down beside you. 

“Why are you up here?” You recognize Lucifer’s voice. Out of all brothers, you’re surprised that Lucifer is the one standing on the rooftop next to you. Then again, he’s the leader of the household and he’s sort of responsible for you. You bite your lip. 

Your throat feels tight, so you just shrug in response to his question. Lucifer’s gaze is intent and it almost seems as if he’s waiting for something. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s implying. “What, did you think I was going to jump?” Silence. “No, ha.” The laugh sounds awkward and weak, even to your own ears. You’re painfully aware of Lucifer’s presence at your side. You can’t help but feel embarrassed at the thought of being so vulnerable in front of him. 

“Are you homesick?” Lucifer asks, unknowing of your internal dilemma. You frown and think back to your life, your friends, your family. You miss them, of course, but that’s not the cause of your mood dampening. 

“Not really,” you decide to answer honestly. Lucifer arches an eyebrow, but you don’t explain any further. An explanation about your lack of homesickness would quickly bring your doubts and self-defeating tendencies to light. You don’t quite want a therapy session with the Avatar of Pride. 

“My brothers are worried about you,” Lucifer says, evidently catching onto the fact that you don’t want to explain your situation anymore. He’s staring at you expectantly. 

“Hm,” is the only word that falls from your lips. It feels strenuous to speak. You pull your legs closer to your chest.  

“I find myself... a bit concerned, also,” Lucifer says. You’re surprised at the admission- so much so that you turn to look at him for answers. This time, it’s Lucifer who is silent. He places a hand under his chin and looks out to the night sky. Even so, you can feel his attention on you. “Is this normal for humans?”

“What, depression?” You laugh awkwardly. Never in a million years did you think you’d be having this conversation with Lucifer of all people. You take a deep breath and try to ignore your heart hammering in your chest. “Not for all humans, but for some.” 

Lucifer nods quietly. For the next few minutes—or hours, time in the Devildom is hard for you—he sits with you in silence. At some point, your back starts to hurt and you push yourself up to your feet. You stumble a little bit but Lucifer sets you right with a hand on your forearm. Together, the two of you return back to the mansion. The Avatar of Pride walks you back to your room. You’re too distracted to notice the thoughtful expression on his face when he leaves. 

The next morning, you notice that something is off. You’re immediately roused awake by Mammon, who seems to be unusually restless as he pulls you along to breakfast. You’re then greeted by the other six brothers—another strange occurrence. Typically, the brothers wake up at vastly different times. They hardly ever meet down here all at once. You push the thought to the back of your mind and begin picking at your food. 

From there, things only get weirder. All the brothers seem keen to talk to you, strangely enough. Hell, even Levi taps you on the shoulder and starts talking to you about Ruri-chan. You glance about the table in confusion, wondering if today is a holiday or something. Eventually, you catch Lucifer’s eye—only to find that he's already looking at you. There almost appears to be a gleam of concern in his eyes, but it quickly fades into obscurity and you’re left wondering if you imagined it. 

After breakfast, Leviathan forces you to watch The Tale of the Seven Lords with him- albeit with a few murmured insults about you being a normie [you have given up on arguing with him about that]. At one point, he abandons the series and begins to play video games instead. You watch over his shoulder and occasionally offer tidbits of information about the games you had back home. He seemed particularly interested in MarioKart when you described it, ironically enough. This is far from the first time when you’ve watched him play games over his shoulder. Sometimes, when he gets into the zone and you begin to get tired, you’ll fall asleep on his shoulder. Levi is kind enough not to mention it when you wake up. 

You’re walking down the hallway and back to your room when Asmodeus practically drags you to his room and throws you in front of his unnecessarily large makeup mirror. He then proceeds to test out different products on your face, before eventually settling for applying eyeliner and a small amount of mascara. You let him do so without much complaint, despite how awkward it feels to have someone else apply it for you. Your patience pays off, however, because Asmodeus finishes a moment later and takes a step back to take in your reflection. You follow his gaze, surprised to find that the look is both modest yet flattering. The demon puts a hand on his chest and marvels about your “endless beauty,” to which you respond with an eye roll and a fond pat on the shoulder. 

As time passes, you begin to realize what’s happening. Lucifer’s remark from the previous night comes to mind once more. My brothers are worried about you, he had said. I find myself a bit concerned, also. Well, that explains the sudden insistence of the brothers. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you realize that they’re trying to cheer you up in the ways they know how. 

You round the corner and nearly crash into Beelzebub, who smiles apologetically at you. There’s a rather pleasant smell wafting off of him. You squint at him in confusion and he explains that he’s baking something in the kitchen. Surprised, you decide to follow him into the kitchen, only to find flour strewn everywhere. You resist the urge to facepalm. The saddened expression on Beel’s face is too much for you, so you reluctantly offer to help him bake.

The process is rather slow, as Beel keeps eating all of the ingredients. It must be extremely hard for him to prepare food, you think to yourself. Even so, he manages to reel in his hunger and form the cookie dough you prepared into balls. The next time you glance at the baking sheets, you’re unsurprised to find some of the dough balls missing. You sigh fondly.

Against all odds, the cookies last long enough to be baked in the oven. Beelzebub and you spend your time cleaning up the kitchen and once you’re done, the cookies finish. Beel doesn’t even bother to wait until they cool down, instead shoving a few into his mouth automatically. It seems he doesn’t have to worry about his mouth being burnt. Must be nice, you think to yourself. He offers you one, but you shake your head and explain that you have to wait. Beel frowns and grabs a few, placing them off to the side for you. He then devours the rest of them, and you decide to give him a round of applause for the impressive disappearing act. He sends you off to your room with a plate of cookies before you can argue. 

Just as you walk to your room and open your bedroom door, there’s a hand on your shoulder. You turn around, only to find Lucifer staring at you with a rather complex expression on his face. His gaze flits about your room and a frown rises on his face. You grimace internally, knowing your room is far from perfectly clean. You take a moment to set the plate of cookies off to the side, before turning to face the demon behind you. 

“You need more furniture,” Lucifer announces, crossing his arms over his chest.  You raise an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting the remark. The Avatar of Pride pauses for a moment, before a look of resolve appears on his face. “Let’s go.” You don't even get to ask where it is you’re going, before the two of you are walking through the mansion and out onto the grounds. 

You find yourself being taken to what appears to be the demon version of Ikea. You say as much to Lucifer, who appears to stifle a laugh behind his hand at the thought. He leads you to a rather extravagant showroom and you spend most of the time denying any of the suggestions he makes. At one point, Lucifer sighs heavily and picks something out for you, to your mild chagrin. 

Mammon appears out of seemingly nowhere and decides to tag along. He spends most of the time complaining. You tell him that he can simply leave if he doesn’t want to accompany you, but he turns an interesting shade of red and mumbles something under his breath at that. You pretend not to notice the knowing look Lucifer sends you. 

Mammon and Lucifer seem to be more invested in your furniture than you are. Mammon flits about the showroom with interest, occasionally poking or kicking at things. He finds an armchair and, in the blink of an eye, swipes Lucifer’s wallet and purchases it for your room. When you ask him about it, he gruffly murmurs something along the lines of “every king needs a throne.” You roll your eyes. You also resist the urge to ask Mammon why the chair needs to be in your room instead of his. Finally, the two of them seem to be satisfied and you can return to the House of Lamentation. 

Satan hangs out with you in your bedroom once you return from the impromptu shopping trip. He helps you rearrange the furniture into a suitable arrangement, and he laughs at the armchair that Mammon picked out. You let him choose a drama to watch, which he does without question. The two of you lounge around and watch television for a while, until Belphegor joins you. You’ve been tired most of the day, but being around Belphegor only makes your exhaustion worse. You suspect that he’s purposefully manipulating your energy to get you to be more tired, but you don’t really care. 

Unsurprisingly, you fall asleep within a few minutes. Thankfully, the three of you are all huddled up on your bed, so it’s far from uncomfortable. You fidget a little before eventually giving in and falling into the mattress, turning to the side and closing your eyes again. Just before you drift off, you hear rustling and feel a blanket being thrown over you. You smile and let your exhaustion pull you into slumber. 

endnotes below! ;0

thanks for readingggg :)

Levi is so autistic and I love that for him. [and also me, because I am autistic. hence the headcanon, lol.]

I love the idea of Mammon stealing Lucifer’s wallet and Lucifer not saying anything. Let’s be real—Lucifer is definitely used to Mammon’s behavior. The moment Mammon turned up, he pretty much expected his wallet to be stolen. Even though Mammon has a healthy fear of Lucifer, I like to think that his greed overrides that. Hehe. [and yes, I have a weakness for Lucifer, as you can probably tell.]

ironically, i played obey me! about a year ago and quit after like 20 minutes, ‘cause i got frustrated w the battles (I sucked at them.) hopefully, my inexperience doesn’t show through too much in this fic. I like to think that I researched enough about the characters [in addition to drawing from the limited gameplay I can remember] to portray them accurately. 

once again, ty for reading <3

[mimisempai]

Just a little hesitation

Summary

Sitting side by side on the sofa, Aziraphale is aware of Crowley's hand close to his own. He doesn't know why, but even though they've held hands so many times before, the few millimeters that separate their hands now seem like an insurmountable obstacle.

Notes

Centuries of self-denial leave their mark...

Day 25 : Holding Hands

On Ao3

Rating G -  1352 words

Aziraphale placed his cup of tea on the coffee table next to the plate of Eccles cakes before leaning back on the sofa and listening to Crowley, seated next to him, recount his latest session at the planetarium.

But the angel soon found it hard to concentrate on the demon's words when he was acutely aware of his hand next to his on the sofa between them. All he had to do was move his little finger a millimeter or two and their hands would touch. They were so close that the angel could feel the warmth emanating from Crowley's hand.

They often held hands, touched and kissed, and yet sometimes, as now, Aziraphale felt a kind of shyness. 

As if something was preventing him from making the simple little move that would allow him to touch Crowley.

But everything was different now.

So why the hesitation?

He no longer needed an excuse, a pretext, or an opportunity to touch Crowley.

All the times he'd had the opportunity, merely because circumstances had allowed it.

As the years went by and his encounters with Crowley became more frequent, the need to touch became stronger and stronger. 

They entered the crowded pub and Crowley exclaimed, "Oh, we're going to the pub! You never go to the pub!"

Aziraphale replied a little annoyed, "We're in the pub now. "

They were forced to stop as the crowd near the bar grew denser and Crowley asked, "What's wrong with the Coffee Shop?" 

Aziraphale looked around for a free table or a way to clear one and replied, "Well, that is precisely the point."

A young woman passed in front of them, prompting him to turn to the demon, place his hand on his chest as he asked, "Sherry for me, please, a large one."  

His hand slid down the demon's body and he moved away to the spot he'd just freed.

It would have been a light, innocuous touch had Aziraphale's hand not lingered longer than necessary, had it truly been provoked by the movement of the crowd. But even though he'd spent years lying to himself, he couldn't do that anymore, and there had been nothing casual about the hand he'd placed on Crowley's chest that day.

"Hell has sent demons. They are milling about outside, they want Gabriel."

Aziraphale could hear Crowley's words, but the exhilaration of dancing with him was far too great at the moment for the words to really sink in. 

As his body moved through the motions of the dance, he replied calmly and confidently, "We're perfectly safe in here. Technically, this bookshop still counts as an embassy." 

They raised their hands in sync, and as Crowley continued his tirade and Aziraphale responded, he couldn't help but feel excited just because their hands were touching, palm to palm, Crowley's fingers curling around his. The demon probably didn't notice, but for Aziraphale it was all he could think about. 

Until he was forced to, for Hell and Heaven never slept.

Reality had forced him to put all these thoughts to the back of his mind. But now Aziraphale realized how much that simple touch, which had been dictated by the dance, had once again been something far from casual and had left an impression on him. 

Accused by Shax, Beelzebub replied with determination and unexpected gentleness, "I didn't collaborate with Heaven any more than Gabriel collaborated with Hell. I simply found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides."

Then Gabriel smiled in a way Aziraphale had never seen him smile before, and while some raved and others made disapproving noises, the hands of the ex-Supreme Archangel and the ex-Duke of Hell intertwined.

Seeing this, feeling their love, Aziraphale couldn't resist the impulse to move closer to Crowley and put his hand on his arm. This time there was no excuse from the crowd or the dance. His body had acted on pure instinct, responding to a need that had been rooted in him for so long he couldn't tell. 

He was barely aware of the turmoil around him, the angels threatening Maggie and Nina, only the loss of contact as Crowley stepped aside to protect the two women. Aziraphale's hand reached out to the demon, trying to reconnect, but the moment of grace was over and the angel slowly returned to reality.

And what a reality it had been.

Fortunately, this reality was quite different now. As he contemplated all of this, his eyes were fixed on their two hands so close to each other. 

Realizing he didn't have to hesitate, he slid his hand over Crowley's. The demon's fingers spread, leaving a space for the angel's to slip through. 

"Took you long enough to make up your mind, Angel."

Aziraphale lifted his head sharply to see that Crowley was looking at him kindly, and realized that, lost in thought, he had completely forgotten that the demon was speaking.

He apologized sheepishly and the demon chuckled softly, "I saw I'd lost you on the way. What was going through your mind? You were staring at our hands, all sorts of emotions crossing your face."

As he spoke, his hand had turned against Aziraphale's and their fingers intertwined.

At that moment, the angel realized what was different now.

He knew his touches were being accepted, received, and returned. 

He rested his head on the demon's shoulder and said softly, "You'd think that now that we're together, everything would be so much easier, almost normal, and it should be, considering what we are to each other. Just like any other couple. And yet sometimes, like now, just taking your hand in mine seemed like something impossible for a brief moment, it's weird, isn't it?"

Crowley leaned his head against the angel's and replied softly, "Not so weird when you think about it, Angel. We've only been together as a couple for a short time compared to how long we've known each other. We've spent years, centuries, denying ourselves so many things that it takes time for some of them to become as innocuous as they are for most people. And that's okay, Angel. There's no time limit, no plan, no list to check off, as long as you do what you feel like doing. At worst, I'll say no. But I really don't think you need to worry about that."

The demon squeezed his hand in his own and cupped the angel's chin with his other hand, lifting his face to his own before moving closer.

He murmured softly against the angel's lips, "Like now, you can refuse if you don't want me to continue."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, "Oh, but I absolutely want you to go on, my dear, and besides, if you don't do it right now, it's me who..."

He didn't have time to finish his sentence because the demon had pressed his lips to his and was kissing him tenderly.

The kiss lingered, their lips parting only to catch their breath, giving and receiving in an endless exchange.

A little later, as Aziraphale snuggled up to the demon, he had his hand in his, playing with his fingers before intertwining them.

He murmured, "So easy."

Crowley kissed his hair and replied, "The next time you hesitate, just think of this moment and maybe it'll be that easy. And if it's not, just say the words and I'll meet you halfway. That's also what being a group of two is about."

Aziraphale brought their entwined hands to his lips and pressed his lips to them before saying softly, "You're right, my dear."

Crowley replied cheekily, "That must have hurt to say, didn't it?"

"I don't like that side of you," the angel replied sulkily.

"Oh, come on, you love me, Angel."

Aziraphale sighed, "I can't deny it."

Then he straightened up a bit and brought his lips close to Crowley's face, continuing, "And I don't want to deny it," then he pressed his lips to the demon's in a kiss that showed him how much he loved him.

He didn't hesitate for a second.

Because sometimes it was that easy.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[octahyde]

twst trans headcanons for pride or something hi

It’s pride month so I figure I might as well post my transcanons!! If I did my sexuality headcanons we’d be here all day so I’m just doing the stuff I relate to The Most know what I’m sayin…

Please note that unless otherwise pointed out, I am totally cool with different headcanons!! These are just where I think the specific characters land, and just because most characters aren’t listed here doesn’t mean I think they’re cis per say, just that I don’t have any particular hcs about them gender wise

Anyways!!

Riddle Rosehearts- Trans Man, Gay, He/Him*

This is one of my biggest ones… I think having femininity shoved down his throat and existence made him unable to explore his real gender. Even when he got accepted into NRC, there was a shock because his mother had been prepping him for an elite girls’ school. She went through with him going so she could brag to others behind his back. (“Did you know? My daughter is going to NRC. She’s the only girl who has ever been accepted!”)

Part of why he’s so militant on rules is because it’s the only way he can function mentally- he is desperately afraid of what will happen when his mom realizes he’s trans, so he enforces them strictly to feel like he’s doing something right.

He was so malnourished his breasts never developed and his periods are spotty at best. This doesn’t ease his dysphoria but rather makes him feel more dysphoric; he feels his body is broken and can’t even do what it’s “supposed” to do right.

He doesn’t have a need to get top, but he does get phallo when his hormones are fixed. “Average size, nothing too grotesque, please.” Throughout all of this Trey is by his side, unwavering in support. Trey is the one person who has known him in every stage of his transition and the only one Riddle intimately confides to.

Eventually Riddle does pursue law; after several months-long IOP sessions for years he IS stable enough to be a lawyer righteously and justly. Meanwhile, Trey runs his family bakery in stead of his parents before him. The two adopt two sons, and eventually after years of being in therapy and having Riddle’s gynophobia eased, a baby daughter as well.

Through all this shit of being married with children to another man who is openly gay and having full testosterone and a literal phalloplasty, Riddle only sees himself as “A devoted ally of the LGBTQ community.” Nobody tell him.

*This is a hc I am VERY staunch on, and I am EXTREMELY uncomfortable with anything fem!Riddle related, be it genderbends or headcanons. That being said! Everyone has their own relationship with gender and I have nothing wrong with people having these hcs, and I even see where transfem Riddle is coming from. I just personally prefer to have it kept away from me.

Cater Diamond- Trans Man, Bi, He/Him

I’m not sure if this is a popular hc or not?? I thought it was but I’m just realizing it’s because every Cater is Transmasc Cater in my eyes so I could just be projecting onto cis stuff without realizing it DIS IF NSFJFN

Anyways Caycay is a trans guy and it’s a lot of why he has disdain for how his sisters treat him, even if they don’t realize it. Similar to Riddle having femininity forced on him, but in a different way and significantly less extreme.

In general, Caycay has a streak of hiding most if not all of his real self under his peppy attitude and social media addiction (his lab vignette, Wish Upon A Star), if not outright resentment (his Halloween vignette) for people who are legitimately as shallow he acts when they don’t have a care in the world (Borderline Personality Disorder).

I think that follows through in his dysphoria; he shows himself as a happy, carefree guy who is just happy to be a guy, but underneath that he does have resentment for his cisgender peers for having what he wants- especially without family knowing he’s a guy but treating them as their little tomboy sister with different pronouns anyways.

His chest dysphoria is particularly bad; he has D cups and every time he puts his binder on he wants to die. Not above self harming, either, but I don’t have any hcs firm on that kind of thing for him. Has likely skipped class on days where it’s particularly bad. Trey Clover, #1 Cis Ally, is also the only person he confides into as well, when his guard is down he’s vulnerable enough (which is to say, not often).

He gets top surgery basically the second his fourth year starts, he’s too much of a suicide risk without it. He can take or leave phallo, but is mostly just fine with what T does to his penis and doesn’t see a need to pursue it. He ends up marrying a bad bitch influencer on Magicam and is basically just a trophy husband when she starts getting actual gigs in advertising. They have a very happy r/childfree life also.

He moves to the Queendom of Roses to be closer to Trey as well. After NRC, he gets a lot more vulnerable and transparent about how badly he really is doing. Trey is the one who drives him to and helps his intake for when he needs inpatient (which is a lot), as well as his ride to and from IOP every day.

Trey Clover’s schedule is basically wake up, get started on the baking for the day, have breakfast with his family, pick up and drop off Caycay at IOP, open + morning shift, lunch break (picking Caycay up and getting McDonalds because that’s all this dumb bitch ever wants, then dropping him off at home), afternoon shift +closing, making dinner, and being intimate with Riddle during their allotted Love Making Time if he so chooses. This is his life and, somehow, it’s his dream life and the happiest he can even be. God bless Trey Clover.

Jamil Viper- Nonbinary (Genderfluid), He/She (alternating)

I don’t have much to elaborate on here, basically since I got into TWST I’ve just naturally alternated on he and she for her depending on how I feel that day LMAO. Her nonbinanry swag…

Nondysphoric and never medically transitions. She probably has more feminine clothing but for the most part doesn’t really feel a need to do anything to herself. She Likes Women In A Gay Way which is the best way I know how to describe it, even knowing other terminology (and also being uncomfortable with them from trauma). Marries a normal person after NRC and is also r/childfree, but is the worst influence on Najima’s children.

Epel Felmier

do i even need to fucking elaborate on this.

Vil Schoenheit- Transhet Woman, She/Her**

Content warning for mentions of an eating disorder, specifically anorexia.

Listen trust me I know a Beautiful Trans Woman when I see one.

She’s out when she’s at NRC and on light E, but that’s it at that point because of her career. She has Turbo Dysphoria, which is exacerbated by her relationships with Neige and Epel- the fact that Neige is so effortlessly soft and beautiful despite being a cis man, and Epel being afab and having such a frail and feminine form but wanting to be masc caused deep resentment for both. The trans envy and projection is a major force in how she treats Epel and why she is so hard on him and trying to mold him.

Eventually, her anorexia causes her to black out and collapse during a shoot. She’s rushed to inpatient for a few months so she can recover. There, she comes to terms with the fact that Neige isn’t her enemy and never was- especially when he regularly visits to make sure she’s ok. He’s genuinely worried about her after all the shows they’ve done together.

She also makes the decision to cut Rook from her life, as he was majorly encouraging a lot of unhealthy behavior- including the eating disorder that landed her there in the first place.

Along with this, she’s finally put on a higher dose of E in the hospital, because it’s a very big contributor to why she got as bad as she did. When she’s stable for a few months after being discharged, she gets breast augmentation for D cups and a vaginoplasty as soon as she can.

Also she actively pursues getting closer to Neige out of thanks for him and they get married and have children and the euphoria Vil feels getting pregnant is crazy. The end

**I am VERY aware this is a controversial headcanon, and one many feel goes against Vil’s entire character. I am not denying Vil is canonically a gnc man, nor am I going after people for not viewing her this way. This headcanon is very personal to me as a gnc trans man and other trans people I know. All I ask for is respect and that you block me if this headcanon bothers you instead of trying to argue with me.

Idia Shroud- Transhet Woman, She/Her

Content warning for actual discussions of self harm (specifically cutting), along with amputation.

My most surprising and shocking transcanon out of all of these

Idia is literally like… what if you took a bunch of white trans women in STEM and put them all in a room together and tasked them with making the most stereotypical boymoder they possibly could. Coding? Check. Loves SHMUPs? Check. Posts about hyperspecific weird obscure interests on the internet? Check. Dresses really nice in MMORPGs despite not putting effort in irl? Check check check. It’s legitimately stunning to me that this isn’t a more popular headcanon. She probably has thigh highs on under her pants at all times.

I unsurprisingly have a LOT of thoughts about this; I’m hardcore yume so I will likely leave that out because it’s personal but tbqh I have enough thoughts to write a book without that.

During the incident that killed Ortho, Idia was out for 3ish days afterward. When she woke up, not only was Ortho gone, but her legs were, too- the phantom took them in the attack, and she had to have them amputated. She ended up as a double below the knee amputee. This incident all gave her EXTREME CTPSD. (Which like, it’s canon it gave her CPTSD and informs every single action she makes and the entire fandom is ableist as hell for infantilizing her autism uwu and ignoring the CPTSD completely, but that’s another post for another time.) It also lead to severe schizophrenia and BPD. She eventually developed prosthetics in the style of Ortho’s legs she wears in her personal life, but at NRC she wears near indistinguishable realistic ones out of fear of sticking out even more. The trauma from everything and lack of proper help eventually lead to cutting herself regularly; specifically at her shoulders.

She realized she was attracted to men around 14-15 through BL. (I will never stop saying DMMD Changed Her Life and she is still in love with Clear to this day. People don’t compare her to Yaoi Jesus for nothing.) It was around her second year when her egg cracked (this time it was Touhou) and she realized she wasn’t a little gayboy.

By her third year she was boymoding; to feel more comfortable she started wearing sports bras and panties underneath her uniform to feel at least a little more like a girl. She was much more openly A Girl online in MMOs and Discord servers based around breaking Mario 64 down to its metaphorical molecular level.

In her fourth year she Finally gets on meds, and the side effect of Risperdal for her Turbo Psychosis gives her gynecomastia. After she’s graduated she goes on E, which, uh. Combined with the Risperdal ends up being very kind to her.

She only ever goes on E, she’s got breast development covered and her genitals don’t particularly bother her. Over time she gets mild shrinkage and gets less erect, which is all she really needs to feel herself. In general, she’s more focused on if she feels like a girl in her body as opposed to if she passes.

I know I said it but she is SUCH a Thigh Highs tgirl. She has ones that accommodate her legs and she basically can’t live without a pair on, they’re SUPER comfy for her. She also dresses like a Hot Topic egirl LMAO… short black skirts, big comfy t shirts and sweaters, some comfy dresses along with really nice ones when she does go out. I have like an entire image board I made of her the other night.

Also I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: regardless of what gender you view Idia as, she wears cat eye glasses. Nobody has good vision looking close to the screen in the dark as she does, and the second she heard “cat” she didn’t bother looking at any other options.

I don’t want to talk about yume stuff because it’s REALLY embarrassing but smfns my sona is a girlmoding (outside of NRC) trans man and as they get closer and start dating over the years they transition together… it’s a very close and intimate thing for both of them. They also have 3 cats (a white one named Clear, a gray one named Ryoji, and my queen and god.) And Ortho and CR-BS01 and 02 live with them also… a happy family.

I think they eventually have kids after Idia’s nerves are calmed about the curse (she gets pregnant because I’m sure as HELL not making a self insert not have phallo let alone have a uterus. This is a universe where a guy can turn people into sand I’m sure fertility treatments for people without vaginas exist), and none of the kids end up inheriting it because her and her parents have successfully handled the phantoms :)

Epel Felmier For Real This Time- Trans Man, Gay, He/Him***

My masc king… I feel like I don’t really have to discuss his transness; he’s overwhelmingly the most popular transcanon for a reason LMAO But just for the sake of it: his docile feminine frame and being compared to femininity bothers him significantly, and he much more desires to be seen as masculine and tough. It really isn’t that hard to see him as a trans guy (speaking as a trans guy who relates to him myself).

His chest is a modest B-C cup, but that still gives him dysphoria and stresses him out when he wears binders. He has much, MUCH more severe bottom dysphoria, though. (matchies with his housewarden OMG) Unlike Riddle, though, Epel goes All In when he gets his phallo size.

He also visits Queendom of Roses with Deuce more often and regularly after Rabbitfes so Dylla can sneak him some T. MILF of the world. Please god just one cha

(His family supports him. It’s just he’s so out in the middle of nowhere T is hard to get. That’s what his MILF in law is for.)

Him and Deuce settle on his farm with Deuce as a mechanic, both for vehicles in Harveston and also the surrounding area past it. (He may or may not get well known and a lot of clients from blastcycle customs too)

They adopt a boy and it’s literally just their Gay Masc Life on the Family Farm. No girls allowed.

***Unsurprisingly, I also do not like any works featuring fem!Epel; my stances on it are the same as my ones on Riddle.

NOT FEATURED IN THIS POST: Ruggie is simultaneously a gay twink and a butch lesbian at the same time. His gender is an enigma even to me.

[tacticaltutter]

FINALLY! (Click for better quality, looks better up close)

after several days of working on this piece, I have finished! Helped freshen up on some of my art skills and such.

So, ya'll may be wondering as to who in the kark this girl is? Welp, do ya'll remember my pieces of my clone trooper Shrike? This is Shrike, they are the one and the same. Now bear with me, I know that some may think that is stupid and doesn't make sense. So I will be explaining that in a sec. I have been waiting to go into detail about Shrike's background and info till I have their face design, and such, done. So now is the time to get into what is my cringe worthy thoughts of my clone trooper Sonna. HORRAY!

(take note that these are at risk of change)

Background:

A long while back, the Kaminoans were doing a series of tests to perfect their decommissioning tactics. Using the cloning material of REDACTED, they cloned a total of 666 test subjects.

They were not given increased aging as that was still in the works

Each subject was killed off, one by one, till they got to the youngest of them, EC-666. At that point, the kaminoans had just about lost interest and the last clone was left to rot, forgotten, in a crypto pod.

Fastforward to about 9-10 years before the start of the clone wars, A kaminoan assistant happened upon the forgotten clone. Bringing up their finding to the head scientists, it was decided after much heated debate that the random subject would be used for a side training experiment.

Thus, EC-666 became ECT-666.

Training:

It was decided that ECT-666 would be trained in assassination and black ops training.

Most of their weapon training specialized with melee weapons for quieter executions.

ECT-666's favoritism of longer blades and throwing knives did not go unnoticed.

Due to their small size, they exceled at stealth and hiding.

As a result of ECT-666's obvious difference in appearance to the other clones, they were trained separately, and not permitted to be seen by anyone else but the kaminoans and the trainers.

A good portion of their usual trainers showed disgust towards ECT-666. Many interactions left them with bruises or at worst a broken bone or two.

This led to ECT-666 having to learn to see to their own wounds, in fear of the Kaminoans seeing them as a damaged product.

In addition, a chunk of ECT-666's training followed the ARC-trooper programs. So, they were unofficially, partially trained as an arc.

Physical Apperance:

At the start of the clone wars, ECT-666 is roughly 15 years of age, standing at exactly 5'0.

They are of female origin, are naturally blond, with blue-green eyes (Hazel?).

Receives during their time in the war. a singular scar the runs around their left shoulder was a result of a training session that went too far.

Mental State:

Unkown to the Kaminoans, ECT-666 has some of the memories of the other clones like them from the decommissioning tests. Most of said memories were of their deaths and the harsh treatments they received. ECT-666 has no idea as to why, but they don't let it slip.

Due to the collective trauma; of watching clones being decommissioned, grueling training, and somehow having a vast number of the memories of the other clones of REDACTED. ECT-666 suffers from PTSD, depression, anxiety, and stress.

ECT-666 most likely has ADHD that they inherited from their template. Additionally, they are barely on the autistic scale.

Has zero self-restraint to jump headfirst into danger.

There will be more to come soon, so keep your eyes out for it! ❤️🐀