#Does anyone else feel like they’re slowly losing their mind

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #97

The Justice League fought hard against the anti ecto acts but unfortunately it wasn’t enough and the laws were passed anyways but not before a clause was added to them that states the JL had the right to pull a ghost out of a facility of they had potential to work for them. When they see the potential hero Phantom is caught by the GIW they of course do their best to acquire him. Unfortunately the government sees Phantom as JL property now instead of his own person. Phantom seemed content being trapped on the watchtower and explained it was better than whatever the GIW was planning. Superman thinks something weird is going on with the ghost as when he supposedly went to bed in the room he was assigned he’d temporarily gain a heartbeat again. Constantine is just glad the young prince hasn’t decided to kill anyone in the US congress yet for passing such a ridiculous law. Batman’s adoption senses are tickling.

[inseobts]

Unintentional couple behaviour

you two acts like a loving couple all the time, so what happens when someone points it out?

characters: luffy, kidd, katakuri, shanks and mihawk

(zoro, sanji, law, ace and sabo)

a/n: since a loooot asked for more, here I am eheh

words count: around 0.4k - 1.1k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You don’t know when it started.

Maybe it was the way Luffy always stole food from your plate, but make sure to never let anyone else touch it.

Maybe it was how he always grabbed your hand first whenever the crew split up.

Maybe it was how he insisted on napping with you, his head always finding your lap, his arms always looping around you like a makeshift pillow.

Whatever it was, it had been going on for way too long. And the worst part is that you never questioned it.

Until now.

It starts with Sanji.

You’re sitting at the dinner table, picking at your food, when Sanji suddenly snorts “You two should just date already.”

You blink “…What?”

Sanji gestures between you and Luffy “You’re basically a couple anyway.”

You choke on your drink.

Luffy just tilts his head, mid-bite “Huh?”

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Seriously? You guys act like a couple all the time.”

You open your mouth to argue, to deny everything, but then Nami nods “He’s right, you know.”

Usopp grins “Yeah, I mean, have you even seen yourselves?”

Franky chuckles “Super obvious, bro.”

You stare. And then Zoro, of all people, grunts “They’re not wrong.”

Your brain short-circuits. Luffy just blinks at all of them, then turns to you “Wait… are we a couple?”

Your face burns “No!”

The crew groans.

“Oh, come on.”

“You’re in denial.”

“This is painful to watch.”

You glare “We’re just friends!”

Luffy nods “Yeah! Just friends!”

The crew stares. Then Brook smiles “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked y/n out on a date?”

Silence.

Then Luffy’s fork snaps in half and the table goes dead quiet.

Luffy grins at Brook, but it’s not his usual happy-go-lucky grin. It’s the grin he wears before picking a fight.

“Yohoho,” Brook laughs nervously “Just kidding.”

Luffy hums, still smiling “Good.”

Your stomach flips because holy shit. That was jealousy. Luffy was jealous... Over you.

The realization haunts you for the rest of the night. Because if Luffy was jealous then what did that mean?

Did he actually—?

No.

No, this is Luffy. He’s just protective. That’s just who he is.

…Right?

You barely sleep, and the next morning you wake up to Luffy in your bed.

Sprawled across your mattress. Arms locked around your waist. Face buried in your shoulder.

Like it’s completely normal.

Like he always does this.

Your heart pounds.

Because—wait!

He does always do this. Every night. Every time you’re on the Sunny, he sneaks into your bed without even asking. And you never questioned it.

Because it was just Luffy.

But now everything feels different.

You slowly try to move, but his grip tightens.

“Mm… don’t go” he mumbles sleepily, lips brushing against your skin.

And that’s it. You lose it.

“LUFFY, WHAT ARE WE?!”

Luffy jerks awake “Huh—?”

“What are we?!” you repeat, flustered as hell.

Luffy rubs his eyes, confused “We’re us.”

You groan “That’s not an answer!”

He tilts his head “What do you mean?”

You gesture wildly “This! Us! The sleeping together! The hand-holding! The food-sharing!”

Luffy suddenly grins “Oh.”

Your heart stops “What do you mean, oh?”

Luffy laughs. And then, without hesitation, he leans in and kisses you.

Soft. Certain.

Like he’s been waiting to do it forever.

You freeze. Your brain short-circuits.

He pulls back, grinning “So? Are we a couple now?”

You gape “…WHAT?!”

Luffy just laughs “Well, we’ve basically been dating this whole time, right?”

Your eye twitches “AND YOU KNEW?!”

Luffy shrugs “I just thought you knew too.”

You sputter, because what the hell. What the actual hell. Luffy just decided you were dating. And you never even noticed.

You flop back onto the bed.

Luffy just grins, tugging you closer “You’re thinking too much” he mumbles, nuzzling against you.

Your heart races.

Your face is burning.

But… maybe the crew was right. Maybe you and Luffy were always meant to be.

Even if you were the last person to realize it.

── .✦ Eustass Kidd:

You’ve always known Kid was the stubborn type. He was gruff, intense, and always had that tough guy act. But lately, you’ve noticed something strange. The more you were around him, the more he didn’t seem to mind you being there. In fact, he almost seemed to expect it.

It starts with those small things, things he doesn’t think twice about. Like when you’re both sitting on the deck, and a gust of wind hits just as you’re about to stand. Before you can catch your balance, Kid’s hand shoots out, steadying you. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip lingers just long enough for you to notice.

“Watch it” he mutters, his usual gruff tone, but there’s something softer behind his eyes. You smile but say nothing. Killer, standing nearby, simply raises an eyebrow before looking away, smirking under his mask.

A few days later, when the crew is at port, you notice Kid keeping an eye on you more than usual. Every time someone gets too close or even bumps into you, his sharp gaze zeroes in, and he doesn’t hesitate to step in between you and whoever’s too close. At one point, a shady pirate from a different crew tries to flirt with you. Before you can even respond, Kid steps forward, pushing the pirate away with a low growl.

“Get lost.”

You blink, surprised at his intensity, but he doesn’t look at you, just at the pirate who’s now backing off.

“Kid, I can handle myself” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to” he grumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed by something. He turns away before you can say anything else, muttering about how annoying it is to babysit you. But you know it’s not just that.

The crew knows it too.

Heat lets out a low whistle as he passes by “Damn, Captain, didn’t know you were the protective boyfriend type.”

Kid turns on him with a glare “Shut the hell up.”

Heat just laughs, walking away. You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest lingers.

Then, it all comes to a head one evening. The crew’s just finished a round of celebrations, the ship rocking gently in the quiet of the night. You’re leaning against the rail, enjoying the peace when you feel him behind you.

“Can’t sleep?” Kid asks, his voice low as usual.

You turn around, finding him standing there, arms crossed, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his scowling face.

“I could ask you the same thing” you reply.

There’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, not speaking. His eyes never leave yours, and the tension between you both seems to grow with every passing second.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching. Instinctively, you move closer to Kid. You don’t even think about it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand shifts from where it was casually resting at his side to just hovering near your waist.

The ship creaks, the quiet atmosphere making you both more aware of each other’s presence. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. His fingers are so close, just barely grazing your side as if to assure himself you’re right there.

The closeness feels… different. Intimate.

You glance up at him “Kid?” you ask softly, your heart beating a little faster.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead, his eyes flicker over your face, and you can see the internal struggle within him. It’s a battle, and for a second, you think he might just ignore it, keep up the stubborn front.

But then, his hand finally rests against your side. His touch isn’t harsh, but gentle. You don’t pull away.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this shit” he admits, his voice low but clear “But when it comes to you… I don’t want to risk something happening.”

You blink, surprised “Risk what?”

His gaze softens, and the gruffness in his tone fades away. He looks straight at you, the usual deflective annoyance replaced with something more vulnerable.

“I don’t want anyone else near you. Not after I saw that idiot trying to hit on you.”

You smile, your heart fluttering in your chest “Kid, I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I know,” he replies quickly, but there’s no hiding the quiet affection in his voice now “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and before you can even respond, something unspoken passes between you both. In a split second, his lips are near yours, and the kiss is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to show this side of himself.

But you kiss him back, your hand gently resting against his chest. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than either of you anticipated, but it feels like the world has paused, like this is the only thing that matters in that moment.

When you pull away, you both stand there in silence, but this time, it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable.

And then the moment is completely shattered by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both snap your heads toward the entrance to the deck, where Killer and Wire are standing, watching with amused expressions.

“So,” Wire says, smirking, “you two finally gonna admit you’re basically married, or should we keep pretending this isn’t happening?”

Your face heats up immediately, but Kid just groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Go to hell” he grumbles.

Killer just shakes his head “Too late, Captain. Everyone’s been taking bets on when you’d figure it out.”

You gape “What?”

Wire grins “Yeah. Heat won. He said you’d kiss before the next port. Guess we owe him a round of drinks.”

Kid looks absolutely done. You, on the other hand, can’t help but laugh. Because honestly? It’s not surprising.

You look back up at Kid, who’s still scowling but isn’t pulling away from you. You squeeze his hand briefly before grinning.

“Guess we were the last ones to know, huh?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, but there’s no real annoyance in his expression anymore. Just acceptance. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something real.

── .✦ Red-Haired Shanks:

Being part of the Red Hair Pirates meant living in a constant mess of drinking, laughing, and reckless adventures.

And somehow you ended up being the most responsible one. Which was probably why everyone assumed you and Shanks were together.

The problem?

You weren’t.

But apparently, no one got the memo.

It starts with Yasopp.

You’re in the middle of patching up Shanks’ arm because, once again, he got into a bar fight for fun, when Yasopp smirks at you from across the deck.

“You know,” he says casually, “you’re basically married to him at this point.”

You nearly stab Shanks with the needle.

“What?!”

Shanks, meanwhile, just laughs.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even deny it.

“C’mon,” Yasopp continues, “you take care of him, clean up after him, yell at him when he’s reckless...”

“I yell at all of you.”

“Yeah, but you baby him.”

Shanks grins “It’s true. You do.”

You glare “I do not.”

Shanks just shrugs “If you say so.”

And that should be the end of it. But it’s not.

Because after that the whole crew starts treating you like... ugh.

“Oi, Y/N! Can you grab Shanks another drink?”

“Y/N, tell the captain to stop picking fights with Marines again.”

“Hey, Y/N, Shanks says he wants something spicy, maybe you could help... and it's not about food”

You want to scream.

But Shanks?

Shanks just goes along with it. Smiling. Laughing. Letting everyone assume you’re his.

And the worst part is that you let them, because deep down you don’t hate the idea.

And that’s dangerous.

Then one night, it all clicks.

You’re sitting at a bonfire, surrounded by the crew, listening to them sing and drink and bicker over who can hold their liquor best.

You’re not paying attention until you hear your name.

“So, Captain,” Lucky Roux says, “when’s the wedding?”

You choke on your drink. But before you can argue, Shanks just grins.

“Oh, give it time.”

The crew erupts into laughter.

You just stare at him.

Because... what????

Shanks turns to you, smiling like he didn’t just casually imply he plans on marrying you.

And something in his expression—

Something warm. Something knowing.

It hits you all at once.

The hand-holding. The lingering touches. The way he always pulls you onto his lap when there’s no room to sit.

The way he lets you fuss over him when he gets hurt, the way he only ever listens to you.

The way he looks at you like you’re something precious.

Your heart pounds.

And Shanks just grins against your lips.

“Took you long enough” he murmurs.

And when you pull back, breathless, flustered, you realize that maybe you’ve been his this whole time.

You blink, heart still racing as the weight of his words settles in. The laughter of the crew fades into background noise, the warmth of the bonfire casting flickering shadows over Shanks’ face. He’s watching you, waiting, like he already knows the answer, like he’s known it for years.

And maybe he has.

Maybe he’s been waiting for you to catch up.

Your throat is dry. You open your mouth, but no words come out, just a strangled sound of disbelief.

Shanks chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners “You alright there, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he hasn’t just upended everything you thought you knew.

Your hands tighten in his shirt, and you can’t tell if it’s to ground yourself or to pull him closer “You...” you swallow, voice quieter now, meant just for him “You should’ve said something...”

He tilts his head, considering “I thought I did. Plenty of times.”

You scowl, smacking his chest lightly, which only makes him laugh “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, I know.” His fingers brush your jaw, featherlight, reverent “I just like seeing you all flustered.”

You groan, but you don’t pull away. And well, that says everything, doesn’t it?

And Shanks knows it too, because his grin softens, something unreadable flickering in his gaze “So,” he murmurs, close enough that his breath tickles your lips, “now that you’ve finally figured it out, what do you plan to do about it?”

The challenge is there, teasing, but there’s something raw beneath it, something real.

You take a breath. Then, before you can overthink it, you grab the front of his coat and pull him in, kissing him again, firmer this time.

The crew erupts in cheers. Someone whistles. Someone else yells about winning a bet.

But all you can focus on is the way Shanks smiles against your lips, like he’s just won something far more important.

And maybe you have too.

── .✦ Charlotte Katakuri:

The first time someone calls you Katakuri’s spouse, you nearly drop your mochi donut.

“Excuse me, what?”

The Big Mom Pirates stare at you like you’re stupid.

“Well, yeah,” Oven says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “You take care of him, he lets you into his tea time, you’re the only one who sees his face—”

Brûlée smirks “And you always defend him when people talk behind his back.”

Daifuku nods “Might as well be married already.”

You sputter “That doesn’t mean—! We’re not—! He’s just my commander!”

Oven raises an eyebrow “You ever see Katakuri treat anyone else the way he treats you?”

You freeze.

Because... okay.

That’s a good point.

Katakuri isn’t exactly warm with people. He’s respected, feared, distant. A perfectionist. The strongest Sweet Commander.

And yet, with you?

He lets you tease him. Lets you see him.

Lets you in.

Your stomach flips.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

You try to forget about it.

But after that you start noticing things.

The way Katakuri always saves you the best snacks at tea time.

The way he steps in front of you during battles without thinking.

The way he lets you touch him, his arm, his back, his face.

His unguarded moments are always with you.

And suddenly you can’t ignore it.

Neither can the crew.

It all comes to a head one evening.

You’re sitting with Katakuri in his usual spot, tea cooling beside him, the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. He’s eating, as usual, but his guard is down because you’re here.

And then the words slip out.

“…Katakuri.”

He glances at you, chewing “Hm?”

You hesitate. Then screw it.

“Are we… something?”

Katakuri pauses.

Slowly, he sets his cup down. Then he exhales, like he’s been waiting for this.

“You tell me,” he says, voice steady “Would it bother you if we were?”

Your heart pounds. Because no, it wouldn’t.

You swallow “No.”

Katakuri watches you for a long moment. Then, he smirks.

“Then I suppose we are.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“Wait—WHAT?!”

Katakuri chuckles, low and deep “Did you really think I’d let just anyone this close to me?”

You gasp, because hold on. Has he known this whole time?!

Your face burns “You could’ve said something sooner, you jerk!”

Katakuri just leans closer, his presence overwhelming.

“…Would you have been ready to hear it?”

You freeze, because damn it.

He’s right.

── .✦ Dracule Mihawk:

Living on Kuraigana Island with Mihawk isn’t easy, but somehow, you get used to it.

You get used to the silence. The way he watches you over the rim of his wine glass. The way he corrects your sword stance with the barest touch of his fingers.

You get used to the way he does things for you without asking, bringing you an extra plate at meals, fixing your sword when it’s damaged, moving his coat so you don’t sit on the cold stone steps.

It’s just how he is... Or so you think.

Until one day Perona stares at the two of you across the dining table and snorts.

“You guys act like a married couple.”

You choke on your drink. Mihawk just raises an eyebrow.

Perona grins “Oh, come on! You live together, train together, eat together—hell, you even drink out of each other’s cups sometimes!”

You freeze.

Because—wait. When did that start happening?!

You sneak a glance at Mihawk, expecting him to argue.

But instead, he just takes a sip of wine and says, “And?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because what does he mean, ‘and’?!

Perona cackles “Oh, this is gold.”

Meanwhile, you’re too busy spiraling to notice the small, knowing smirk on Mihawk’s lips.

Because the truth is, he knew all along.

The next few days pass in a strange haze. Every time you’re near Mihawk, you’re hyper-aware of his actions. The way he hands you your sword when it’s too heavy for you to lift properly, the way he adjusts your stance when you’re practicing, even the way he leaves his wine glass half-filled so you can sip it without asking.

You can’t help but start noticing the little things. And it makes your stomach do these strange little flips you can’t quite explain.

You try to convince yourself that you’re just overthinking it. After all, you’ve spent so much time together, working side-by-side, that it’s only natural for him to be a bit… attentive. But you can’t help but feel that there’s more to it than that.

One evening, you’re training in the yard. Mihawk is watching from the porch, as usual, but today there’s something different in the air. Maybe it’s the cool breeze, or the strange feeling of him staring at you.

“Focus” he calls out when you fumble with your sword.

You grit your teeth and refocus, sweat already beading on your forehead. Your movements become sharper, more determined, but you can’t quite shake the feeling that something is… off.

When you finish the routine, Mihawk’s still leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his gaze. You give him a quick, sideways glance, noticing the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Something wrong?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

His response comes as a slow, deliberate drawl “You still aren’t quite in sync with your sword. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You feel your face flush, but you push through it “Yeah? Well, I’m not some grandmaster swordsman like you, Mihawk.”

He steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but his gaze softens for a moment “You’re getting better. I’m simply making sure you don’t lose track of your progress.”

The softness in his voice catches you off-guard, and for a split second, you feel as if you’re standing on the edge of something, something new.

But you quickly push it aside, shaking it off as just another passing thought. You turn to grab your sword again, determined to change the subject.

“Thanks for the help,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady “But I think I need a break. My arms are sore.”

Mihawk doesn’t respond at first. Instead, he merely watches you for a moment before he speaks again, his tone unusually gentle.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’ve been training for hours without rest.”

You give him a small, appreciative nod “I’ll be fine. You’re too used to looking out for me, Mihawk.”

He lets out a faint chuckle, but you notice that there’s a strange intensity in his gaze now “I suppose I am.”

Before you can react, you feel something slightly off, a flicker of tension between you two.

It’s subtle, but it’s there. And you feel it in the way he looks at you, the way he almost seems to be waiting for you to say something.

But, just like that, the moment passes. He steps back, motioning for you to take a rest.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” he says quietly, as if nothing had happened “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You blink “You cook?”

“Of course,” he says with a slight, almost invisible smirk “It’s not difficult, and you’ve been working hard all day. You deserve a proper meal.”

You feel your heart race at his words, but you manage to keep it together “Alright, I’ll take you up on that.”

But as Mihawk turns to walk away, you pause.

For just a second, you wonder... has this always been a normal interaction between you two? Or has it grown into something more without you even realizing it?

The unease gnaws at you as you sit down on the steps, watching him disappear into the house.

You’re overthinking it. You’re just friends.

...Right?

Later that evening, you’re sitting across from Mihawk, your meal already finished. The conversation is easy, but there’s still that lingering, unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Finally, Mihawk breaks the silence, his voice low and casual “You’ve been avoiding the subject.”

Your brow furrows in confusion “What subject?”

“The subject of us.”

You choke on your drink, sputtering “What—us?!”

His expression remains unreadable, but there’s a faint glimmer in his eyes “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been acting strange around me lately. Ever since Perona made her comment.”

You freeze “I—uh—”

“Let’s stop pretending,” he continues “We’ve been behaving like a couple, whether we admit it or not.”

Your heart starts to race. You open your mouth to deny it, but the words get stuck. Instead, you just stare at him, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

And that’s when Mihawk leans forward just slightly, his voice dropping lower “I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I do know that I don’t want you to leave.”

The bluntness of his words takes your breath away.

“I never planned to leave” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips.

Mihawk gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s so small and almost imperceptible that you’re not sure you saw it at all. But something in his eyes shifts.

“Good.”

And just like that, the tension finally breaks.

You’re not sure where this will go. But for now, you’re content to just be here with him, uncertain, but sure of one thing: neither of you are going anywhere.

[jane-the-good]

SYLUS: hide and seek

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

SUMMARY: Sylus decides to help you learn how to understand and handle him ◡̈

NOTE: I love playful Sylus!!!!!! he deserves to playyyy

WARNINGS: 60% smut, 30% play, Sylus likes to give up his control and lord knows he craves that, oral sex, unsafe sex (please don’t be like them)

AO3 sylus masterlist

I’m also a bleach artist!! I made a hoodie for Sylus (obvi) and it’s my fave to paint!! It’s HERE if you want oneee!!!

love youuuuuu ♡

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You burst into the room, breath ragged, the echo of pursuing footsteps closing in. A distant door slams, loud, jarring. There’s no time to think. You lunge for cover, heart pounding, slipping behind Sylus’ chair as instinct takes over.

You crouch low, trying to make yourself smaller, pressing against the heavy fabric of the armchair. Your fingers curl into the edge of the rug for grounding. Every second could split open into violence. You can hear them, boots pounding, floorboards groaning, the occasional clatter of something knocked over in haste.

They’re getting closer.

But Sylus?

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t tense. He only reaches lazily for a pen, twirling it between his fingers as if the room isn’t seconds from invasion. His attention flickers briefly, not to the sound outside, but to the disruption of your presence. A soft, amused breath escapes him. He lowers his pen, lets his glasses slide a little further down the bridge of his nose.

Then, without even turning his head, he speaks.

“Why are you hiding behind me?”

His voice is maddeningly calm, touched with dry amusement. You feel it rumble in the space as a slow-moving storm. You peek up at him from behind the chair, at the sharp lines of his shoulders, the way the lamplight throws shadows across the papers he’s annotating in precise, immaculate script.

“I—I had to,” you stammer. You can’t quite steady your voice. “They’re coming. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You came here.” He tilts his head just slightly. “Of all the doors you could’ve thrown open, you chose mine.”

You open your mouth, but he raises a finger, almost absentmindedly, as if to hush a student mid-interruption.

“I’m not saying I mind,” he says smoothly. “It’s just interesting. People tend to seek me out when they’re desperate.”

He shifts in the chair, the worn leather creaking beneath him as he leans back. His legs cross slowly, elegantly, and he returns to his notes without a trace of concern. The silence outside is deceptive,  the eye of a storm. Your heart drums too loud in your ears.

Then, quietly, you whisper: “You don’t see me.”

He pauses.

Just for a second.

The pen stills in his hand.

A knowing smile curls at the edge of his mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart…” His voice is a drawl now, velvety and dangerous. “I see you better than anyone ever has.”

You freeze.

He doesn't look up from his papers, and for a moment, you're unsure if he’s completely aware of the danger drawing near. But then you hear it, the faintest shift in the air, a barely perceptible tension.

"I’m surprised you’re afraid of them," Sylus continues, his tone casual, but with that unmistakable underlying smugness. “You’re losing your edge, kitten." He leans back in his chair, still not fully turned toward you, his voice dripping with mock casualness. "I suppose you’ll have to protect yourself, won’t you?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. The man is infuriating, always two moves ahead, always expecting everyone around him to follow suit. But... he does care. In his own twisted, strategic way, he does. And for all his arrogance, it's that caring, that soft spot for you, that keeps you close. He knows you can handle yourself, that you’re capable.

"You don't need to worry about me," you say, standing up slowly, ready to face whatever’s coming. You feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your instincts sharp and ready for anything. You trust yourself, and him, even when he's impossible.

"Of course I don’t," he replies, still not looking at you, but there's an unmistakable glint in his eyes now. "But do try to avoid getting yourself killed. I’d prefer not to clean up the mess."

The smug grin on his face never wavers, but there’s a dangerous edge behind it, one that speaks to his true nature. He’s ruthless, a man who never hesitates to go to any lengths for what he wants, even if it means taking lives. Yet, when it comes to you... there's something softer beneath it all.

You take a step forward, the confidence he’s instilled in you propelling you. You don’t need him to shield you. You don’t need anyone to do that. But you can feel his gaze on you now, watching, waiting. Encouraging. His words might be mocking, but his eyes say otherwise, he’s eager to see how far you’ll go.

And you’ll show him. You’ll show him that you don’t need protection. You’ll prove to him, and to yourself, that you’re not the one to hide anymore.

You step toward the door strategizing your next move, with haste. You will figure it out, you always do.

In a quick, desperate motion, you yank open the door.

“Sylus made me do it!”

Your voice cuts through the hallway, sharp and shaking. The twins, already mid-argument, freeze. They gasp in unison, wide-eyed, clutching each other as the weight of your words sinks in.

“Boss! No way!”“He threatened you?!”

You nod gravely, committing to the drama with the weight of someone preparing for trial. “He said he’d take out Mephisto’s batteries if I didn’t comply. I had no choice. It was life or death.”

Gasps. Real gasps.

“Boss! That’s low!”“You know Mephisto gets cranky without his charge!”

Behind you, Sylus doesn’t even look up. He exhales, barely, and flips a page in his notebook with the nonchalance of someone utterly bored by your slander.

“And what if I did do it?” he murmurs without inflection, he’s entertaining the idea just to see how far they’ll take it.

The twins freeze. Slowly turn to look at each other, the internal gears visibly turning as they try to figure out how serious he might be.

“Well…”“I mean…”

Sylus tilts his head, finally looking up from his papers with a predator’s patience. “Would you… punish me?”

That shuts them both up fast.

“Boss! How could you say that!”“Don’t make it weird!”

He sighs and turns back to his papers, completely unfazed.

“Apologies, Miss Hunter,” Luke and Kieran say together but not in unison.

“You did technically threaten my life,” you mutter, stepping back in and pulling the door shut, “but… it’s literally fine.”

“You’re super chill for someone whose life was just endangered,” one twin calls out.

“Thanks for being cool about it!” the other adds, sheepishly.

“Yeah, anywho, see you later!”

“Bye! Sorry again!”

You lean back against the door once it closes, exhaling all the nonsense in one long, exhausted breath.

Sylus doesn’t even pause his writing.

“What happened to not needing protection?” he drawls, bleeding smug ink into every watered down syllable.

“I panicked,” you admit, too tired to fake confidence. At least you’re honest.

He hums in amusement, tapping the end of his pen against his chin. “It seems your personal growth will just have to wait.”

“Sylus. It was serious.”

Now he glances up, finally meeting your eyes, brows raised, that half-smile toying with the edge of his mouth.

“You accused me of blackmail.”

“And they believed it!”

“That’s not the win you think it is.”

You cross your arms. “I saved Mephisto.”

“I see.” He says as he flips through Onychinus special top secret papers that could effect the lives of countless people in positive and negative ways all according to his choices.

“Sylus, I-“ you don’t even want to say it. “I caught their book on fire.”

“I wasn’t aware arson was something you enjoy.”

You drag your feet on the way back to his desk, each step heavier than the last, the guilt pulls at your ankles. When you finally reach him, you don’t sit, you just plant your hands on the front edge of his desk and lean all your weight into it, letting your head drop forward, collapsing under your shame.

Sylus doesn’t say anything right away. You can feel his eyes on you, hear the slow scratch of his pen as it comes to a halt.

“I lied to them,” you mutter, voice muffled by your own despair. “I threw you under the bus. A very large, twin-powered bus.”

Still, no response.

You sigh, lifting your head just enough to glare at the surface of his desk. “They have this book,” you say, finally unraveling, “like an actual book, handwritten and everything, with rules and tips and ‘how to handle Sylus without being emotionally mauled.’ It’s their pride. They treat it like scripture.”

That earns a faint twitch of his brow, but nothing more.

“And it’s not entirely my fault,” you continue, defensively now, straightening a little. “They lit a candle next to it. I told them that was a terrible idea, and they ignored me. And then I sneezed. And the pages caught. And I may have… panicked and flailed.”

Sylus raises a brow slowly. “You flailed?”

“I didn’t mean to! But once the corner was on fire, I was trying to smack it out and then it just… accelerated.”

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him with maddening calm. “So to be clear, you lied, framed me, and burned their holy text.”

You nod grimly. “In my defense, it was an accident. All of it.”

He stares at you in silence for a moment longer, then finally, finally, smirks. “You’re lucky they didn’t exile you.”

“I panicked!”

“And in the spirit of panic, you offered me up as the sacrificial lamb.”

You grimace. “Yes.”

He tilts his head, amused. “And how do you intend to make amends?”

You think for a moment, then sigh. “I was hoping you'd help me rewrite the book.”

Now he laughs, soft and low, but unmistakable. “This book about how to handle me?”

“yeah”

He finally stands up and with such ease walks around his desk and over to you.

“You know about this, because you’ve used it?” He is so confident

“it didn’t work.” you admit

“but you tried.” He crosses his arms.

“we’d just met, I didn’t understand you.”

“but now you know how to handle me.”

“no.”

“do you want me to tell you how?”

He actually wants to help?

“Is this something I can teach the twins? I feel like I owe them something.”

“No,” He stands infront of you making you lean back against his desk. “this is just for you.” He’s so close you have to look up to him.

“ok, teach me then.”

Sylus' smile is slow and full of wicked amusement, a storm forming just behind calm eyes. He doesn't speak at first, he just watches you, a soft hum rumbling in his chest warning an awaiting impact.

“Alright,” he says finally, his voice lower now, a little rougher. “Lesson one, kitten—concessions aren’t given. They’re earned.”

He leans in, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you against the desk without touching you. The tension in the air you crackles, electric and thick, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze drags over your face in a slow, deliberate caress.

“You want to know how to make me concede?” His words are a whisper now, almost reverent. “You make me want to give in.”

Your heart pounds. You’re caught, by his voice, by his presence, by the way he makes something as dangerous as surrender feel like a privilege. You nod slowly, lips parted.

His hand lifts, fingertips tracing along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, as though memorizing you for the hundredth time. “You're already doing it,” he murmurs. “But don’t think you can stop there.”

He leans in, brushing his lips just barely across yours. It’s not a kiss, it’s a threat of one, a promise, a game.

You rise up into it, eyes slipping closed as you press your mouth to his, soft, then deeper, until the kiss spirals into something breathless and consuming. Your fingers thread into his hair, tugging, pulling him closer. He groans against your mouth, the sound deep and low, and for a flicker of a moment, he loses control.

You feel him shift, no longer the teacher, the strategist, but just a man who wants you, who can’t stop himself.

You gasp between kisses, breathless, “I need you to help me—please, Sylus—”

That’s what does it. The moment you say it, soft and trembling against his lips, he breaks.

“Oh, kitten…” His voice is strained now, eyes dark as he pulls you up onto the desk with a strength and urgency that doesn’t startle you, it thrills you. “You’re a quick learner,” he breathes, mouth finding yours again. “I’m so proud of you.”

Every movement is deliberate, a worship in motion. He touches you as if you’re something sacred, the moment you reached for him, he stopped being a man and became something softer, something devoted. His hands aren’t rushed or greedy. They’re reverent. Slow. Exploring the outline of your waist, mapping a territory he’s dreamed of claiming.

His fingers brush beneath your shirt, tracing heat along your skin, and you shiver, in the way his touch asks, never demands. His lips follow, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the curve of your neck, your shoulder, your chest, pausing to breathe you in, eyes fluttering closed in prayer.

And yet, as much as he gives, you take. You unbutton his shirt with a patience that drives him mad, fingertips dancing over each newly exposed inch of skin. You kiss the hollow of his throat, the center of his chest, the places no one sees but you. He’s undone by the way you look at him, not as the calculating strategist, not as the sharp-tongued manipulator, but as a man. Your man.

You whisper his name, kneeling at his waist, making his breath stutter.

The feel of him so hard in his pants sending shivers up your spine. You look up to him as you unbutton his pants, the tension thick as you reach for him. His breath hitches, eyes closing in the quiet surrender to the moment. You watch his jaw loose , eyes fluttering closed, the warmth pooling in his cheeks and the edges of his ears. You move slowly, savoring the intimacy, your own breath ragged, unsteady.

“Kitten,” he purrs as you lower yourself, your lips replacing your hand, flattening your tounge around the underside of his shaft. His fingers thread through your hair as you take him in, his grip tightening when you hollow your cheeks.

The way he moans your name turns you into his mirror, making your own skin flush. His voice is slow and warm with his truth. He is so honest and accepting of his actions and it’s contagious.

His eyes flutter shut, lashes kissing flushed cheeks, and you can feel how close he is to falling apart.Every muscle in his body tightens, straining under the weight of restraint.His hands grip the edge of the desk behind you, not to steady himself, but to keep from collapsing completely.

“Sweetie, please” his head tips back in a groan as your tounge swirls his tip.

You hum your approval and his hips jolt in response at the vibration. Slowing your pace, you let your lips linger as they trail back up his stomach, the heat of his skin beneath your mouth causing your chest to tighten with the growing desire.

You tug him back to you by the collar, and he follows without hesitation, lips finding yours again in a kiss that’s deeper, needier. It’s less polished now, less than worship, more than surrender.

Your hands slip into his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans into your mouth. That sound, raw and honest, ignites something in you. You guide him back with a push, your thighs parting around his hips, his weight settling against you. It feels right, the way your bodies puzzle piece into the places that were always meant to fit.

He kisses you, memorizing this, if the world were to burn, this is the memory he’d hold onto. And when you pull his shirt off fully, dragging your hands down his back, exhaling your name.

“You’re killing me,” he whispers into your skin, voice ragged, eyes dark. “And I’d let you.”

And still, you don’t stop.You don’t rush.You don’t need to, because every kiss, every breath, every press of your body against his is a quiet unraveling. He’s never been taken apart like this, by kindness, by softness.

He lets you strip him of his walls, of his pride, of every defense he’s ever built.He lets you see him raw and human and yours.

Your fingers trail across his skin with reverence, brushing along the line of his jaw, down the curve of his chest, leaving goosebumps in your wake. He leans into your touch as a man starved, greedy for affection but never allotted the ability to ever ask.But now, with you, there is no pride. Only need.

The way your lips find his again, slow, deep, devastating, makes his breath hitch.

He’s trembling beneath the softness of your touch, undone by the tenderness no enemy could ever touch him with.No one’s ever made him feel this safe, this wanted, this unguarded.

But you don’t let him go just yet.You hold him there.Right on the edge.Your mouth hovers above his skin, your breath brushing hot and slow, driving him further into the tension.His fingers twitch at your waist, desperate, aching to pull you closer, but he doesn’t.He won’t.Not without your permission.

You whisper against his ear, “Is this the control you want me to have?”

He shudders. The breath he exhales is sharp, caught between a groan and a plea.His voice is nearly broken. “You’re going to destroy me.”There’s no venom in it—only awe. Only wonder.Because even at the edge of his undoing, Sylus still can't believe you’re real.

He lets out the faintest laugh, breathless, breath-catching. It’s not amusement, it’s disbelief, reverence, the sound of someone on the verge of breaking open in the most beautiful way.

Then his forehead drops to your shoulder, lips brushing your skin as he exhales, shaky and hot. You feel the tension in his body, every muscle pulled tight, trembling from restraint and need.

He exhales sharply, almost a laugh, but there’s nothing light about it. It’s desperate, aching.“Please,” he says, barely a whisper, it costs him something. “Let me… I need to be inside you.”His voice breaks open, vulnerable in a way only you have ever witnessed. “Let me ride it out with you. Let me finish this with you.”

You run your fingers through his hair, cradle the back of his neck, and guide him to you with a soft, wordless nod. He lifts his head slowly, eyes burning into yours, dark with longing, glassy with emotion. You’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

And when you finally give in, when you guide him where he’s aching to be, his hands find your hips, but there’s no urgency in the way he touches you. Just awe. Just care.

His movements are slow but intentional,  he’s savoring every second with you. You cling to him, pulling him even closer, keep him yours, to make this moment stretch.

He looks at you breaking him open, but not to hurt him.

To free him.

He’s never known softness could hold so much power. His lips find your throat, your jaw, your collarbone, not with hunger, but reverence. Kissing you is a prayer.

His forehead presses to yours, his breath fanning across your skin. “You know I’m yours,” his voice a rugged whisper. His belief wrapped in certainty. You hum in agreement, your body trembling against your will to keep the power he wants for you.

He grits his teeth, his fingers gripping your waist, trying not to lose himself too soon. “Kitten—” His voice is hoarse, tight with restraint. “You're going to ruin me.”You smile softly,

“Maybe that’s what you need.”

His hand slides in your hair gently honoring you. The room is warm with the scent of sweat and his fireplace. You can feel a bead of moisture slide down your chin as he cages you in his arms. Each thrust sends you spiraling closer, your fingers clawing at his back as your body tightens around him. Each breath in your ear twinkling down your spine.

He doesn’t take.

He gives.

A groan of genuine pleasure slips from his lips, raw and true, the sound of relief. The way his chest rises and falls, the way his breath catches, it’s not just the culmination of desire, but the release of a weight that’s been pressure he has to hold.

Your breath catches as he moves, fluid, rhythmic, a quiet worship in motion. He groans against your skin when you clutch at him, and you feel it vibrate through your chest. Every sound he makes is yours, pulled from him by the way you hold him, the way you meet him with every pulse, every breath.

The pleasure builds, hot and all-consuming, and then, blinding, shattering, you break into millions of pieces and float through space. Sylus follows, his grip on you tightening almost desperately, the pressure of his hands grounding you as his body shudders with the force of his release.

No war. No danger.

you both finally let go, falling together.

Only the sound of your bodies finding stillness in the after, wrapped in the quiet echo of peace.

You meet his eyes, dark, glassy, and sincere.And you nod.Because this isn’t about power.It’s about surrender.

And tonight, the only battle worth fighting,is the one you lose together.

When the storm has quieted and the desk is no longer a battlefield but a quiet place of afterglow and breathless laughter, he holds you in his lap, cheek resting on your shoulder.

“That,” he says, lips brushing your skin, “is how you make me concede.”

You hum, grateful to know, but aching all the same. His return to the Big Bad Boss was never yours to stop. Never his to escape.

“I think I want more lessons.”

He chuckles against your throat, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Then you’ll have to stay close. This curriculum’s private.”

[alltimecharlo]

maybe something along the lines established relationships and one of a new guy/rookie on the team slowly figuring out that willmack are a thing and codependent bastards at that too 😭

fun fun fun!! i went with an oc rookie's pov for this because the thought them being like 'wtf are these guys doing' was so funny to me lol. fic under the cut!!

The first time Levi sees it, he thinks he imagined it.

He’s sitting in the Sharks locker room after a morning skate, still in his damp gear, trying to look like he belongs. He’s the new guy—newest rookie on the roster, straight up from the minors, still getting used to the feel of NHL ice under his skates. Most of the guys have been cool. Toffoli nodded at him once, which felt like some kind of spiritual initiation. He thinks one of the equipment managers gave him a protein bar with a nod that might've meant "you'll survive."

And then there’s Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith.

They’re already legends in Levi's head. Not just for the stats and the highlight reels, but because they move through the locker room like planets caught in the same orbit. They’re always around each other.

That first weird moment: Mack walks into the room, hair still wet from a post-skate shower, and without even saying anything, drops a coffee in front of Will, who just accepts it like it's owed. Will grunts a thanks and takes a sip, then makes a face.

"You did two sugars, right?"

"Obviously," Mack says, rolling his eyes. "I’m not a monster."

Will smirks and takes another sip. Mack sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder, even though there are six empty spots around them.

Levi glances around to see if anyone else clocked it. No one seems to care.

Okay. Weird, but whatever.

He doesn’t think much of it until a week later, after a win. The room’s loud and chaotic. Someone’s blasting bad EDM, Toffoli is half-naked and chirping guys across the room, and Mack and Will are off in their corner—again.

Will’s sitting on the bench, unlacing his skates, and Mack is standing between his knees, talking quietly. Too quietly. Will laughs at something, leans forward a little, close enough that Mack has to tilt his head. Levi watches Mack grin, bright and unguarded, and reach out to brush something off Will’s jaw. It's soft. Domestic.

"Dude," Levi mutters, turning to Collin, who’s changing next to him. "Are they…together? Like, is that a thing?"

Collin shrugs. "I dunno man. They're just always like that."

"Like that? That was some rom-com shit."

Collin laughs. "Yeah, but it’s Mack and Smitty. That’s just how they are."

Levi’s brain does not compute.

A few nights later, he sees it again. After practice, they're all heading out, and Will yells, "Mack, you coming?"

"Two secs!" Mack calls, then grabs Levi by the elbow.

"Hey, you're not walking back alone, right? Take the shuttle or wait with someone. It's a sketchy block past the lot, especially late."

Levi blinks. "Uh. Yeah. Okay. Thanks?"

"Don’t mention it." Mack gives him a pat on the shoulder and jogs to catch up with Will, who’s already holding the door open for him.

Levi stares after them.

He mentions it to Toff the next morning.

"I think they're together," Levi says, whispering like it’s a state secret.

Toff doesn’t even look up from taping his stick. "You think?"

"So it's…a known thing?"

"They’ve been dancing around each other since before they hit the league. No one says anything because it’s more fun to watch them not say anything either."

Levi is spiraling. "They, like, finish each other's sentences."

"Yup."

"Will loses his mind if Mack takes a hit."

"Yup."

"Mack almost fought someone on the bench last week for chirping Smitty."

Toff smiles. "Welcome to the team, rookie. You’ll get used to it."

Levi watches Mack walk into the room five minutes later and bump Will with his hip. Will leans into it without even blinking, like it’s muscle memory.

Yeah. Sure. Totally normal teammate behavior.

He sits back and shakes his head. These guys are unhinged.

And clearly, desperately in love.

Everyone else just seems to be waiting for them to figure it out.

♡

[leth-writes]

Some thoughts about Tim and the Batfam

SUMMARY: just thinking about Tim and the batfam

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans. HEAVY discussion of drugging and taking away of autonomy.

MASTERLIST: https://www.tumblr.com/leth-writes/757800060720496640/requests-open?source=share 

Requests are open!

Tim is a really interesting person, in general. I’m just obsessed with the idea of him drugging a darling, just keeping them all pliant and sleepy and curled up in his bed, even if he’s platonic. 

He spends a lot of time just…watching you, whether that be through cameras or in real life.

You never find the cameras, even though you know they’re there. If you asked him, he wouldn’t deny it. Why would he? There’s nothing you could do about it, and he honestly doesn’t trust your opinions on your own safety. Tim views you as quite innocent and naive, and that’s part of why he spends so much time building a little cocoon in the bed for you to curl up in, your soft snuffles just barely moving the light sheet he’s laid around you.

Just. UGH. I think at first he’d drug your food.

But you start noticing, and you start avoiding food. This sets the rest of the batfam off; is TIm not taking care of you properly?!

(They sometimes talk about you like a pet. It’s weird. You’ve learned not to mention it.)

In response, you’re tied down with soft satin straps and drugged out of your mind through an IV. You’re on an all-liquid diet, practically seeing stars. Tim doesn’t need you conscious or coherent, just safe from harm, after all.

I could even see him putting you in a temporary coma, at least until the heat from your kidnapping dies down. 

I can’t get  over the idea of you just. Trusting him so much, so naively, and he’s just. Fucking drugging your hot chocolate to get you to the manor, he knows if he doesn’t then Jason will and Jason won’t be as gentle about it.

UGH just imagine him doing those exercises every day with you to keep your muscles from atrophying AGHHHH

You wake up afterwards, it’s dark and your mouth is dry. You try to sit up- and you can’t. You’re too weak, too tired from the still-present drugs coursing through your veins. It’s then you see a bright flash, illuminating the corner and it’s FUCKING TIM JUST STANDING THERE

He uses his best camera, just dedicates it to pictures of you, creates an album.

He shows it to everyone else, they’re all cooing and aweing and you’re just sitting there like HELLO PLEASE LET ME LEAVE 🙁

Eventually he might even give you a bit of a choice. You can eat the food, or you can get an injection. When you take the injection you lose an entire day of time, and who knows what the FUCK happened? (nothing, Tim just. Spent most of the day working, occasionally taking the time to brush a hand over your face, just gently tracing your features.)

The others start to get annoyed Tim’s hogging you, and he gets you a wheelchair. You’re too weak, too drugged to be able to move yourself around, and he somehow manages to put some sort of thing on the wheels that lock if you try to go out the door. Like the fucking Grocery Carts.

He starts wheeling you around, letting you see the garden and the birds and Batcow. You spend a lot of time in the library with Alfred the cat curled in your lap, purring as you try to follow the plot of a simple book, your eyes too blurry to see the words properly.

Jason’ll read to you, he likes the bonding time. Plus, your eyes can’t really focus on anyone’s face too long, so he doesn’t have to worry about you being scared by the scars ripped into his skin by his death.

Cass’ll roll you into her studio, prop you against the wall, and just do a stunning routine. Unfortunately you can’t see it very well, and you clap really slowly because your hands feel like they’re filled with lead. She appreciates the effort.

Dick eventually takes over your stretches, though he does sometimes have to fight Bruce for the right. Both love helping you gently stretch out your limbs, admiring the shaking that only comes from intense effort. You’re cute, like a newborn lamb.

It’s infuriating watching Dick do all these complicated moves, while you can barely lift your head, but oh well, they’re so happy you’re here!!

Damian treats you like a younger sibling, even though you’re significantly older than him. He adores having this position of power over you, and abuses it to spend most of his time with you just. Showing you his animals. Titus is practically your emotional support dog at this point, and he trains Ace to be your guard dog.

Bruce loves having you curled up in the office, snoring slightly on the couch, as he slowly wades his way through work. He’ll throw a blanket over you, even as you whimper and shy away from the food he’s hand-feeding you. You aren’t allowed to feed yourself anymore, hell you can barely lift your hand to your mouth.

You eventually get used to spending all your time just. Hanging around, sleeping and letting everyone else do everything for you.

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 17

Synopsis: Darla checks on you and Jason takes you for some much awaited ice cream.

Note: Hi, so this chapter is a little bit shorter but it's still good. Some Sweet Jason moments are back. Anyways Enjoy it!

Masterlist

It took you a week and a half, sporadic four-hour shifts, and Jason staying at your apartment every few nights before you started to feel normal again. Your chest still hurt with the melancholy of losing someone you cared about, but you could still live your life around it. (It helped to wear the locket he had left, hidden under your shirts). Your first full shift is when Darla finally jumps to talk to you. You told her the severely watered-down news version of you being kidnapped, but that was all she knew was going on with you. Clearly, she knew something else was up.

“You going to tell me what’s going on with you, or are you going to keep me in perpetual darkness?” she complains. Jackie’s is having a slow afternoon; two college students studying together are your only customers. You lean on the counter while Darla sits on the chair by the register. You take a minute before you bring up a question that’s crossed your mind a few times.

“Darla, how friendly are the vigilantes with civilians?” You hadn’t thought much about it when Red Hood kept showing up at your window, but now, with space from him, you wonder if he’s like that with a lot of people. If he was like that a lot you wonder why he let anything bad happen to you. Darla seems confused by the turn of questioning.

“I would say friendly is a word they don’t know. Sure, they save lives, but they’re usually not ones for idle chatter most of the time.” She still seems confused as she speaks. Her words leave a perfect opportunity to tease.

“You mean they don’t want to hear your gossip?” she rolls her eyes at your comment.

“What’s going on, sweets, hmm? Did Red Hood make a move on you when he saved you?” A week ago, it would have irked you that someone believed Red had saved you; now it just made you sad and miss him.

“It’s not that. It's just before…” you hesitate, bring a hand up to thumb at the closed locket Red Hood had given you. You hadn’t shared your friendship with Red Hood with anyone, but Darla was your first real friend in Gotham. If you couldn’t trust her, you don’t know what you’d do.

“Before I was kidnapped by Penguin,” you continue, “Red Hood had been visiting me in my apartment.” You see her open her mouth about to ask a question, but you keep going, “We weren’t, like, getting it on or anything. He was my friend, that’s it. But he’s the real reason Penguin kidnapped me. It wasn’t happenstance; there was intent. Penguin thought I knew where his hideouts were.” You pause to let the words settle. You expect Darla to ask you a million and one questions, but she just nods slowly.

“Okay?” she says clearly waiting for more.

You sigh, “I don’t, by the way. Penguin said the only reason they knew about me was because one of his men had been watching Red Hood and had pieced together where I lived.”

“Wait, you got kidnapped because Red Hood was being followed? I thought these hero types paid more attention to their surroundings.” Her voice had an edge of anger to it, and suddenly, you understood why you were really upset with Red Hood. Your anger that had been watered down by sadness flared. You weren’t mad that Red Hood hadn’t saved you; you were mad because he had been followed who knows how many times and didn’t even notice. He never warned you of the potential of something bad like that happening just because he was in your life. You don’t know what to do with the realization.

When you come back to the conversation, Darla is standing and holding your arms, a worried look on her features. She looked like she was waiting for you to speak. She says your name with a sternness you’re not used to.

“Does penguin know where you live?” her question is direct and to the point. You hadn’t thought long and hard about all the things the Penguin had said to you. At Darla’s question, you become aware of what his words meant. Your chest tightens with anxiety.

“I guess?” you say quietly. She looks like she’s going to scold you, something you didn’t know she was capable of. “He’s been arrested, it’s okay.” You add, like it’ll make the truth better.

She opens her mouth, and you're mentally preparing for the scolding of a lifetime when the door dings. You both turn your heads to a familiar mop of dark hair. Your anxiety melts in seconds. Any worry Darla was building up in your mind washes away.

“Jason,” you say with a smile. Despite the way his presence calms you, the conversation must still show on your features. You're sure that Darla, holding at your arms the way she is, doesn’t help with any conclusions he’s drawn of the current situation.

“Is everything okay?” his words are nearly a demand with the way he says them.

You give him a nod, “Yea, ‘s okay.” You feel Darla’s hands loosening before dropping to your hands to squeeze them. You can see her glancing between you two, and when you meet her eye, her features have lightened. She gives you a look of this conversation is not done before she finally let’s go of you.

“Hey there, Stud. You’ve been here an awful lot.” The Darla you know is back. There’s a tease in her voice and on her face when she glances at you.

“Darla, please,” you make a shooing motion at her, and she just raises her hands in a placating manner before she walks around the counter and over to the college students. You lean forward across the counter, trying to be closer to Jason, and you find him doing the same.

“Hi,” you whisper. He has that fond glimmer in his eye with a hint of worry from what he had walked into.

“Hi,” he says back, voice low, “is everything okay?” he repeats his earlier question as his hand comes up to brush some hair out of your face. The gesture makes you smile widely for a second.

“I was telling Darla about the whole kidnapping thing.” You think you see a flit of hurt cross Jason’s features before he neutralizes it. You suddenly realize you never talked to Jason about it. You had never talked to anyone.

“It’s nothing to worry about, I promise.” You tell him. He looks like he wants to pry, but Jason has never been one to press you for information. He gives you a conceding nod before leaning back.

“Okay. You almost ready?” he glances down at your apron, and you're confused for a moment.

“Ready for what?” A teasing smirk works itself across his lips, one you're not used to from him.

“One full day of work and your memory is shot? Ice Cream, Sweetheart. We were going to get ice cream.” He reminds you. You press your palms to your eyes.

“Of course, oldest parlor in Gotham. I’ve been waiting for this.” You drop your hands, wondering if you should tell him how important the ice cream parlor “date” was, that it was one of the things that helped keep you alive when you were kidnapped. You don’t. You’re still not ready for that conversation, the implications of it.

“Let me check with Darla, and I’ll clock out, okay?” You round the counter to be in front of him. Up on your tiptoes, you press a kiss to his cheek in apology for forgetting before walking over to Darla… who is already watching you with the two college kids. They all seemed invested in whatever was going on with you and Jason.

As you come to the table, you glance at the kids. They were regulars, the quiet ambience in the café was good for studying (and Darla always has the best gossip, so it’s not shocking they were watching you with her). They give you good-natured smiles before going back to their work. Darla meets you halfway.

“Another Date?” You shake your head at her words. You had mostly stopped correcting Darla when she called them that because it didn’t matter anyway, but with other ears listening, you corrected her.

“We’re not dating. I’ve already told you that. We’re just going to get ice cream.” At your words, you see a shift of movement of the table behind Darla, along with the sound of hushed whispers. You're starting to wonder how involved the regulars of the shop were in the knowledge of your life. You ignore them. “Will you be okay if I head out?”

“Yea, it's not like we're packed, and these two could hardly cause more trouble.” She pauses and hesitates, glancing at the listening ears behind her before she leans in whispering, “We’ll talk later about your other stuff, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Jason stays with me sometimes, so everything's fine, don’t worry.” You're not sure if you're telling her or if you're telling yourself (If you have Jason change your door locks later that evening, it's really none of her business). She gives you a surprised look before it turns stern, but you don’t let her berate you or ask about the Jason thing, already heading back to the counter to clock out. You make quick work of taking off your apron to return to Jason at the counter. His eyes are on your three gossipers on the other side of the café.

“Ignore them, come on. I need ice cream.” Your hands easily curl in his, tugging him out the door. It's still cold; winter almost over. And you think you should have brought a thicker jacket as Jason leads you over to his bike parked right in front of Jackie’s. There’s a new leather jacket lying across the back of the bike. He picks it up and shakes it.

“That doesn’t look like it would fit you.” You state, looking at it before letting him slide it over your shoulders. He laughs at your statement.

“That’s cause it's not for me; it’s for you.” His voice warms you the way he speaks. It’s a snug fit with your other jacket on, but you're sure in the spring and summer months it’ll be perfect. Your gloved fingers struggle with the zipper when your mind catches up to his words.

“You bought me a jacket?” you ask, hands pausing on the zipper to look at him. He steps forward. He takes off his gloves and invades your space as he brushes your hands out of the way to do up the jacket. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks.

“You’re on my bike enough; you should have your own attire.” You stare at his face as he focuses on zipping up the jacket and adjusting it on you. His cheeks are just a little pink, like when he gave you the taser.

“You bought me a jacket.” You repeat your words softer and no longer a question. The implication of the sentence hits you square in the chest and chokes at your throat slightly. If he bought you a jacket, you specifically, it means he wants you around him, on his bike, with him.

He finally meets your eye, and you have to squeeze your hands into a fist because you want to kiss him, hard. He wasn’t making this easy for you. You still couldn’t decide if he genuinely liked you, liked you or if he was just entertaining your physical affections. It was driving you crazy. You wrap your arms around him instead and drag him into a hug. His reaction is drastically different from the first time you hugged him. He didn’t tense like something bad was going to happen. He just melted against you as he returned the hug.

“Yea, I bought you a jacket. Do you like it?” his voice was quiet, and you think he sounds worried. You pull back and lock eyes with him.

“I like it a lot.” You declare. You wonder if he can hear the implication of your words, that you weren’t just talking about the jacket. His cheeks pink up again, and you think his eyes flicker to your lips before he pulls away to grab the helmets. Like clockwork, he slides his on and does it up while you slide yours on. You wait patiently, chin tilted up. He edges into your space, closer than necessary as he does up the straps. Your fingers curl into the pockets of his jacket, stabilizing yourself. You know he’s done by the taps along the side of your helmet.

You decide you have a love-hate relationship with these helmets. Love because you have a gorgeous view of Jason’s pretty eyes and the multitude of emotions he seems to carry there. Hate because you want to kiss him again. A now recurring urge that you’ve dampened by kissing his cheek. With the helmet, you can’t do anything.

“Ready?” his muffled words reach you, and you give him a thumbs up. You watch him as he throws a leg over the bike, your eyes drawn to his thick thigh before meeting his hand that he holds out for you. You use it to climb on behind him and you easily curl your arms around his waist while he turns on the bike.

****

It was cold out, and, honestly, if it were up to Jason, he would not be driving his bike. He would be a nice warm car he probably “borrowed” (read: stole) from Bruce. Technically, it was up to him, but you loved his bike. You were like an adrenalin junkie, practically vibrating from excitement whenever you got off the bike. He cherished the look in your eye every time. Although this would be the first time since the warehouse incident that you had been on his bike.

He had bought the jacket for you before, meant for the original planned trip to the ice cream parlor. He had been worried about it. Worried you wouldn’t like it, worried it would weird you out. He had even asked Tim, who he had been working on a case with at the time of his overthinking. Tim had been far too pleased about being part of the “decision-making” but had offered somewhat decent advice. Girls like gifts, especially if it involves something they like, shows you pay attention. So, he bought it because you liked riding his bike, so, hopefully, you would like the jacket (and not think he was an egomaniac about his bike like Tim said).

He was flustered about giving you something, embarrassed even for some stupid reason. The same way he felt when he gave you the taser, which was for your protection and a dumb gift to be flustered about. It was weird because he was sure that if you literally sat yourself in his lap, it wouldn’t bother him but giving you gifts felt like the Everest of emotional turmoil. You seemed excited about the jacket, in your own quiet way. Your eyes had an emotion that he couldn’t put his finger on, but you had pulled him into a hug, and he thought nothing of it.

He took the ride to the ice cream parlor easy. You seemed to be holding tighter than usual, but you still tapped his helmet when you saw something new that interested you. Despite the cold weather, the ice cream parlor seemed busy, the parking on the street full. He had to park a block or so down, but you never seemed to mind walking and neither did he. You had the giddy glimmer in your eye that you usually got from riding his bike. Any worry that you might not like it anymore washed away.

The walk was quiet. Your eyes are drawn to the river across the street. You had your hand around his elbow and told him about a show you had started watching, something you thought he would like. He didn’t watch TV unless he was with you, but you didn’t need to know that because you offered to restart it and watch it with him anyway.

The ice cream parlor had a line. A few stragglers stood outside the door. It didn’t take long until the line moved, and you two made it inside. The place was as busy inside as it looked outside. Groups of family, friends, and couples stood around or sat at the few tables in the place.  You suddenly felt anxious. You had been around crowds; it was part of your job, but you had something to keep you busy, drinks to make, food to warm and serve. Now, all you could do was stand there.

You turn to face Jason and focus on his face, trying to ignore the crowd. His eyes scan the place with a hard look before he finally looks at you, and his face softens. He brings a hand up to pat at your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” he doesn’t hesitate to ask. You lean into his hand slightly instead of the way you want to collapse into his touch.

“It’s just a lot of people,” you tell him. To your dismay, he pulls away from you and starts to take off his jacket, which confuses you. He settles it on your shoulders in a way that makes your chest ache uncomfortably, the lid of a glass jar sliding open again.

“There are benches along the walkway on the Sprang River. Do you have your taser?” The question makes you giggle because of how strange it is. You pat at your pocket and nod.

“Then go wait at one of the benches. I’ll be as quick as I can, okay?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, already turning you towards the door with a playful nudge. It’s not until you're sat at the bench that you realize you never told him what flavor you wanted.

You people watch for a while, other people with ice cream, runners moving along the river walkway. You're pulling Jason’s jacket just a bit closer when he appears in your line of vision, holding two cups. You hurriedly pull off his jacket when you notice he only has on his hoodie. You take the cups from him, and he takes back his jacket.

“It’s freezing out here, babe. Why’d you let me send you out here?” You snort at his tone, all accusatory, like it was your idea. Even the pet name, which was a new one, made you want to laugh. He didn’t say it syrupy like he had with the others; it was just as accusatory as the question.

“Cause you’re the sweetest boy around.” You jest. You mean it truthfully, because he had seen you struggling and sent you outside. Observant and sweet. His eyes widen, and his face flushes darker than you had ever seen before. It made you stupidly giddy.

“Whatever,” he tells you as he sits down next to you, shoulders and thighs pressed, his warmth seeping into you. He takes one of the cups, and you stare at the one left. It’s a white ice cream with chocolate chunks in it. You assume it's just a chocolate chip until you take a bite of it. You're startled by the mint that bursts on your tongue. You round on Jason with the spoon in your mouth. He pulls his spoon out of his mouth as he watches you with a worried look.

“Mint, right? It's your favorite.” You stare at him, and he shifts uncomfortably. “Sweetheart,” he tries to goad you into talking. You continue to stare, really look at him. That conversation had been months ago, and he remembered. He was making this really, really hard. You finally nod.

“Yea, yea, it’s my favorite.” You tuck a leg under you and use it to lift yourself slightly so you can press a soft kiss to his cheek; any harder and you fear you may lose any semblance of control and try to make out with him right there. You settle back down on your bum and focus on your ice cream because you fear if you look at him, that gnawing emotion will make you do whatever it wants.

If you had looked up, you would have seen Jason’s look of longing. He hoped he could keep you forever like this. Free with your affection and emotions spread across your face. It made him angry with himself that he was lying to you, that he was choosing to lie to you, and that he was going to keep lying to you. For the first time in years, Jason wishes he had never become Red Hood, that he had never become Robin. He wishes he was normal like you. Wishes he was just a guy in love with a girl.

Jason stopped himself, looking away from you. He was not in love with you. That wasn’t real, it didn’t exist. It was all in stories and fairy tales. He just liked you, nothing else. At least that’s what he told himself as he glanced back at you and the way you picked at your ice cream, stirring it and melting it like the strange girl you were. He was so not in love with you (he totally was).

Additional note: I love them, but they’re so stupid. I was once again reminded of how easy it is to write scenes between the two which has been a bizarre experience as a new writer. Thank you for all your guy’s comments and for reading. Please let me know what you think! <3 <3

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[shirefantasies]

Not to sound creepy but I’ve been rereading your LotR HCs sm lately, they’re all so cute 😭 could you maybe do a hc about Pippin (or the hobbits in general, your choice!!) with a super affectionate fem!partner? I feel like he’d absolutely lose his mind over that 💀 ooo or like a fic with the same thing? (with a fem!hobbit! reader, he needs a cute short hobbit gf to make him feel tall hehe) tysm!! Sorry this is so long 🥹

No I’ve gotten way longer you’re so good hun 😆 I decided to do all the hobbits because I love them all 💕

The Hobbits When You’re Very Affectionate (F!Reader)

Frodo

✧ At first, his affection is withdrawn more from you than from his male friends and family, by duty or comfort you know not.

✧ If anyone can draw him out of his shell, though, it is you. You who tuck him into his blankets in even the harshest conditions, hands resting over his for just a moment longer than necessary before you move on.

✧ Does he even deserve you? Such Frodo wonders as your hands gently work, loosening the collar of his shirt and gently massaging and treating his skin where the ring has begun irritating it. Burning it, even, and yet your hands are so gentle, loving. Silent as he is, Frodo watches you with awe and love, utterly moved.

✧ Frodo grows to crave that feeling of your hands holding his between them, your side becoming his instinctive refuge the moment any fear or pain takes him.

✧ One day he helps care for your wounds, and you pull him in and kiss the tip of his nose and for once the whispering of the ring seems a little quieter.

Sam

✧ Pointedly avoids affection from any other woman in hopes you take notice. We all know Sam is loyal to a fault and this is true even when he’s not sure if his feelings are returned.

✧ Will all but run to offer you his hand if you are to fall or otherwise need assistance, smiling shyly up at you when you squeeze his shoulder in thanks.

✧ Starved for touch, Sam absolutely melts and leans in when you stroke his hair, slowly and shyly drifting further into your lap as your hand travels.

✧ He always serves you first, noticing the way you rub his shoulder or ruffle his hair when he does.

✧ So in tune with your emotions and expressions, Sam becomes the first to offer you a hug whenever you’re down, appearing as if he can sense your need of it.

Merry

✧ Merry tends to reserve touching for a certain level of comfort, so seeing you express physical affection opens the gates for him to do the same.

✧ He gets bold, too, hand-feeding you morsels he'd like you to try at meals and giving you a big smile if your lips happen to meet his fingertips.

✧ Everyone else will know exactly what he’s thinking if they can see the massive smile he’s giving over the shoulder of one of your frequent hugs.

✧ You always reach for his hand before a fight, smiling at him as his fingers curl around yours, gripping you tightly like a lifeline.

✧ At dinners and firesides, Merry notices the way you look to him when you make jokes, nudging and elbowing him. He does it right back, adoring every shared moment he can have with you as if you're in a little bubble separate from the outside world. Not to mention the fact that he is the first person you look to- his heart!

Pippin

✧ Putty in your hands. Practically hovers around you waiting for the next touch.

✧ Takes initiative himself as well, doing things like offering you his arm to walk or even taking your hand under the claim that someone has to stick together, right?

✧ Forever volunteers to be the one to ride with you, giving the proverbial shit-eating grin at the feeling of your chest pressed to him and arms around him.

✧ You two nearly always end up falling asleep on each other, heads lolling together as another fellowship member, usually Boromir or Aragorn, shake their heads fondly and scoop you up to take you to your bedrolls.

✧ Tilts his head, baring his cheek and practically begging for one of the kisses you give him at any opportunity of your greeting or his pleasing you, smiling up at you with such innocent green eyes that how could you deny him?

Bilbo

✧ Goes beet red the first time you take his hand.

✧ He can already barely talk to women, having taken so much time to himself, but you? You who rests your arm across his shoulders as he attempts it? You who run your fingers down his arm to get his attention? How can Bilbo remember a word to you?

✧ Red as he may get, Bilbo will find ways to bring you things, feeling the way your hands touch if you take them from him. Or even just surprising you and enjoying how you excitedly take his hands, smiling at him as you thank him.

✧ Once you even fall asleep with your head upon his shoulder, soft hair tickling his neck and cheek, prompting him to look down upon your serene expression, heart soaring.

✧ He takes to moving hair out of your face if it is long enough, otherwise simply reaching up to return it to place or gently remove anything that might fall there.

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[rere9500-18]

Miles and his abandonment issues/not wanting to be alone.

Something I’ve always thought about Miles was that he has abandonment issues. This clip here is only a scene that shows apart of that.

Gwen’s “I’ll never see him again” makes him panic, with not seeing her or Peter or anyone of his spider friends for a year or so now. Hearing that from Gwen alone probably is what mainly encouraged him to jump through that portal and follow her. Because if that portal closed, there’s a big possibility he’d really never see her again.

Even in the second half of the video where Miles is walking to his dorm/new school and he walks past his old school with everyone he knew chatting it up with him as he passes. It’s clear while Miles attended that school, he’s been friends, or at least acquaintances, with a lot of the people there. He has and still does leave an impact on them, if it wasn’t noticeable by the amount of people simply happy to see him walk by.

At the end of it, the last girl asking how the new school is and that they all miss him, Miles responds with a “Wait… you miss me?” with a smile on his face. Now, I’ve seen some of the comments on that bit on YouTube and it’s mostly people thinking it’s Miles being cute with the ladies, but I don’t believe that’s what that was at all.

It’s clear to see Miles is cool with most people in that scene; of course keeping in mind he’s spent time with them at some point in his life if they are telling him they miss him. That little smile Miles had and the question that followed was an exact reaction to truly realizing that nobody at his old school has forgotten him, nor intend to, in theory, leave him anytime soon. It’s that warm feeling of knowing that maybe you truly do have people by your side. It’s actually a little intense with Miles since I think he sort of needs that feeling more than you’d usually need it.

Whether it be his mom, his dad, his uncle (RIP Uncle Aaron 😔), or the spiders who he thought were his friends.

That’s why it hurts so much when they’re taken away from him. Either by death or because of needing to pick a side. Because that warm feeling slowly turns into dread that no one’s by his side anymore. That the people he love may not love him anymore. That he may have to face something he’s been trying to hide from: being alone.

Because being alone means you’ll have no one to care for. Being alone means no one’s gonna give you their warmth when you’re in the freezing cold. Being alone means you’ll be left in the dark by yourself with no one to encourage you to break out and run free.

Miles followed Gwen to avoid having to be alone, like he was for the past year after she and the other spider-people left. Because, while it doesn’t make it right to follow someone and then go invisible to see what they’re doing, he wouldn’t have ever known this would have been the last time he’d see his best friend if he hadn’t followed.

At the end of the movie though, I feel that Miles is put at an even harder spot due to him trying to prevent his father’s death. He wanted to be with the rest of the spider people so badly that it blinded him to the fact it wasn’t all it seemed to be cracked out to be. At the end of the movie, all Miles wants is to go home. Yes, it hurts to lose everyone you’ve worked so hard to see, but in his mind, if the people you call your friends can’t understand that it’s fucked up to let an innocent person die, his dad no less, for a so-called ‘greater good’, then maybe that warm feeling of them being by his side isn’t what he wants right now.

Miles feels betrayed by Peter B., Gwen, and most importantly, by himself because he soon realizes that he was so determined not to lose them again, that he never realized he’s lost himself in the process. Gwen, Peter, and everyone else basically said (through their actions) that they’ll never see Miles again. Who is Miles to stop them?

He doesn’t care what happens afterwards. He just wants to go home, HIS home, and stop the one thing that will truly make him deeply and utterly alone.

The death of Aaron and Miles being Spiderman only encourages Miles to want to do these things. He wanted to surround himself with people he can trust, but he soon realizes those relationships can die, either by actual death or by lies and secrets.

Idk. This is all just my view of what Miles feels even in Into the Spiderverse. If you’ve finished reading all this, idk; eat a cookie or something.

[l0serloki]

Birthday

Your birthday with Val Men!

(Cypher, Sova, Yoru, Chamber)

A/N : AM I REALLY BACK?? ARE U SEEING A POST FROM THE LOSERLOKI?? the world may never know.

masterlist

Cypher : 

Cypher knows your birthday. You hadn’t even mentioned it to anyone and yet the moment you woke up he greeted you with a gift.

The gift itself was something you had been looking at on amazon.. How did he know this? The world may never know.

“Happy Birthday little bug. I hope today is well for you.” 

He doesn’t let anyone else know of your birthday but he does spoil you throughout the day with your favorite snacks and drinks. Other agents start to think he’s slowly losing his mind.

As you opened your bedroom door you let out a squeal. The last thing you were expecting to see was Cypher standing in front waiting for you. 

“Good morning and happy birthday.” He shuffles a gift into your hands and your eyes widen.

“I didn’t tell you it was my birthday today? Also were you waiting here all morning?” You’re not disappointed with the gift, far from it, but you still were a bit shocked.

“Don’t worry about that. I am sure you will like your gift. And I went to buy your favorites. Everything should be to your liking.” You could hear the grin in Cypher’s voice as you stared down at the item you had been wanting for a while. You shouldn’t be surprised, you knew he had quite the web of information on people. While it should probably perturb you at the least, you were just happy to not have to spend your birthday in silence.

“Thank you Cypher.”  You give him a hug which he returns quickly, his fingers tapping at your back. 

“Anytime.”

Sova : 

Sova tries to make something really thoughtful. Like a sweater or a plush. He asks Omen to help him knit something.

He will try to get everyone together with some food and drinks. He wants you to have a memorable day!

If they’re too much though he will automatically notice and whisk you away. As long as you’re happy he is too!

“Happy Birthday!” The agents cheered as Sova led you into the dining hall. There was decorations around and an array of gifts set out to the side. Sova gave you a soft smile as his hand rubbed at your back.

“You guys..!” Your eyes widened as everyone shuffled you towards the table. You could feel tears prick at your eyes at the amount of effort everyone put in just for you.

“Sova did a lot of work to get this altogether! Don’t thank us, we just showed up.” Phoenix shoots Sova a wink as everyone begins to settle down for food. You look next to you as Sova puts his hands up in a ‘it’s nothing’ motion and blushes. You can’t help but laugh at the adorable face and give his hand a quick squeeze.

“Thank you Sova. You’re too kind.”

“It’s really nothing. I hope to make your day the best. You deserve it.”

Yoru : 

Expect teasing. Even if he does care, he will not show it easily.

“You definitely look old. I’m sure you’ll be able to use your wrinkles as a purse next year.” 

He will get you something that’s more suited towards his hobbies but he means well! 

“Since you always bother me about the motorcycle rides being cold.” He shrugs as he gives you a new motorcycle jacket. He even added matching patches to twin with him. (Not that he would admit).

He will buy you dinner as well but don’t mention it or he will get grumpy.

“What is this Yoru?” You raised an eyebrow with a grin as he handed you a thick leather jacket. His cheeks tinged with red as he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t go getting a big head. Just because I got you one thing for your birthday does not mean you are special. I am just tired of hearing you complain about how cold it is on the motorcycle.” Yoru pushes the garment into your hands and you notice the matching patches on the side. Your heart swells at the sentiment. You knew he wasn’t great with wording his emotions but he definitely put thought into this.

“You’re too kind ‘Ru. We should use it tonight to get dinner.” You add with hope and he just sighs.

“Yeah yeah.. I guess it would only be smart. Be outside by eight or I will leave you.” He grunts as he moves to leave.

“And Ru?” You add and the man turns around. “Thank you.” 

Yoru’s face goes even more red than you thought was humanly possible as he tries to adjust his hair to keep cool.

“Whatever.”

Chamber : 

Chamber likes to be coordinated. He’s set up lots for you both to do throughout the day. Unless you specifically tell him not to weeks before.

He will give you a few gifts throughout the day, just small things. Trinkets that reminded him of you or stuff he thought you would like. 

He will take you both out to a nice lunch and let you shop, saying it’s on him if you see anything you like. (It takes stress off of him to make sure you get the best gift.)

“Happy Birthday, my dear. I hope today is up to your standards. If there is anything I can do to make it better.. Don’t hesitate.”

“Is your food good? Do you want more to drink?” Chamber says quickly as he watches you eat. You can’t help but chuckle at his anxious attitude, reaching for his hand.

“It’s perfect, just calm down and enjoy your meal. If something was wrong I would tell you.”

Chamber seems to relax a bit more as he leans back in his chair and squeezes your hand.

“I only want the best for you. It’s not every day that it is your birthday after all.” He hums and you can’t help but smile. He’s always so thoughtful and kind. Despite what the many agents back at base thought. Not that their opinion on him had ever mattered.

“Thank you honey. Today has been great.” 

Great was an understatement. He let you run around to your favorite stores, smiling and nodding along to anything you found of interest. He spoiled you with small gifts and snacks, and now such a fine dinner. 

“Anything for you.” He gave you a soft smile as his lips brushed your knuckles. You felt your heart jump at the small action and you let out a small laugh.

“Eat your damn food.” You wave off the affection and he only chuckles.

“So defensive. But whatever you want.” He shrugs as he digs back into the food. It was safe to say your birthday was a success.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

I have an idea

Reader meets Charles during the off-season; intense, fast-burning connection. They’re inseparable — he’s charming, she’s intoxicating to him. Early signs of possessiveness — Charles subtly makes sure she doesn’t go out without him, texts constantly.

She begins to feel smothered. He doesn’t want to share her with the world, constantly accuses others of flirting with her. Fights start. Passionate reconciliations follow — lots of highs and lows.

Charles tells her he can’t lose her. She says she needs space. They break up. They run into each other again after a few months or so and they start talking and she mentions she’s in a relationship and she’s actually happy and she wishes Charles can have that but not with her. He tells her that she still loves her and that he wants her to be in his life and she’s like no I don’t think that’s a good idea (because it’s not) they go there separate ways again after having a big fight.

Open ending option 1: He watches her leave through the window of his flat, finally deletes her number, a tear slipping down his cheek.

Open ending option 2: He texts her again: “If you ever change your mind…” — still not over her

themes Toxic relationship themes, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, breakup themes, lingering obsession

Reader wants to go public with Charles when they first get together but Charles is like no I want you to myself. He keeps her to himself like a dirty little secret. And her friends are like girl dump him which she eventually does and when she does a few days later she feels as if a weight is lifted off her shoulders and she can finally breathe again

Reader and Charles don’t have anything in common they are not compatible with each other but they are sexually compatible if that makes sense.

And

Y/N is a successful, plus-size romance author—introverted, clever, observant.

She loves love, but doesn’t think she’ll get the kind of epic love she writes about.

She avoids the spotlight but supports Carlos quietly—watching races from the paddock, giving him good luck trinkets, texting him encouragement.

Carlos is charming, driven, and beloved by the media.

They’ve been friends for years—easy banter, shared routines (like watching movies after races), and little traditions (e.g., he reads her drafts; she makes sure he drinks water after races).

Despite their differences, he’s most relaxed with her. Y/N’s feelings creep in slowly—his kindness, his laugh, the way he always finds her in a crowd.

She thinks she’s being foolish because all his exes are glamorous, spotlight-ready women. Carlos, meanwhile, keeps noticing how no one makes him feel as safe or grounded as she does

She comes to a race weekend when she has a writing break. They spend time in his motorhome, she watches qualifying from the garage, he looks for her in the crowd.

During downtime, they lie on the floor eating snacks, her head on his shoulder, just talking

He compares every fleeting flirtation to her—and they never measure up.

The media asks about his “mystery woman,” and he smiles but dodges it.

Maybe a teammate teases him about being in love, and he brushes it off, but it

Y/N gets overwhelmed—maybe one of his exes is at the race, or she sees him talking to someone stunning.

Later, while they’re alone, she vents: how she knows she’s not what people expect for him, that she doesn’t fit into his world, but she can’t stop wanting him anyway.

She says: “I know you’ll never be with someone like me, but I can’t help but want it to come true.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate—he kisses her before she can spiral further. It’s gentle but intense, like he’s been waiting to show her how wrong she is.

He tells her he’s been in love with her for a while, that he didn’t want to ruin their friendship or pressure her. She’s emotional, hesitant, but he grounds her with words like: “You see me better than anyone else ever has.

They’re not rushing things, but there’s a change: he holds her hand during a quiet moment, smiles at her like she’s his whole world.

The world starts to notice—and he never lets her feel small in it. After a race, they find a quiet corner somewhere . He wraps his arms around her from behind while she’s rambling about her new book idea. He says something like, “Just so you know—I would’ve fallen for you in any world.”

[mrmoldavite]

What Does Venus in the 8th House Truly Look Like?

As a man with Venus in the 8th house, I resonate deeply with the interpretation I am about to give you. Venus in the 8th is not just a placement; it’s a story of constant death and rebirth, an intense spiritual and emotional journey that leaves no part of you untouched. I also have Venus square Pluto which makes things a whole lot more intense😭.

Here’s my breakdown of how this placement has manifested in my life over and over:

Emotional Intensity at Its Peak

Having Venus in the 8th house means that emotions are never light or surface-level; they’re all-consuming, transformative, and at times overwhelming. Love for me isn’t a feeling—it’s a force of nature. It’s obsessive, passionate, and magnetic. I don’t just like someone; I’m compelled by them. My relationships are secretive and private, often unfolding in ways that are invisible to the outside world. Falling in love is almost like being struck by lightning—instantaneous and undeniable, yet unpredictable.

Romance Meets Death and Rebirth

Venus, the planet of love and connection, resides in the house of transformation, taboos, and the underworld. Every relationship I enter is a crucible—a process of destruction and renewal. They don’t just challenge me; they tear me apart, only for me to rebuild myself stronger. Love, for me, is not casual. It’s a deep alchemical process.

Falling into Obsession

When I fall for someone, it isn’t just affection—it’s obsession. I lose myself in the connection, in the fantasy of who they are and who we could be. In this state, it feels as though I’m drowning in my own emotional depths, a tempest of passion and vulnerability. Love is a storm that colors everything red—the color of blood, passion, and sacrifice.

The Depths of Emotional Connection

Relationships with me inevitably move into uncharted territory. It’s not just love; it’s soul-baring intimacy. I find myself sharing the darkest parts of myself, the hidden traumas, the secrets I wouldn’t dare tell anyone else. There’s a desire to bond on a level so deep that it feels otherworldly. But this level of connection isn’t for the faint of heart. I pour all of myself into the relationship—emotionally, spiritually, even psychically.

The Illusion of Love

Here’s where the twist lies: my Venus in Pisces the 8th house means that I don't always see my partner clearly. I fall in love with the idea of them, the idealised version I’ve created in my mind. I project my deepest desires and fantasies onto them, often failing to see who they truly are.

Revelation and Betrayal

The 8th house doesn’t let anything stay hidden forever. At some point, the veil lifts. Sudden, shocking revelations about my partner—or even about myself—can leave me reeling. Betrayal is a common theme, whether real or perceived. The person I thought I loved turns out to be someone I never really knew. The disillusionment is as intense as the love itself.

The Aftermath: A Broken Heart

Breakups with Venus in the 8th house are not ordinary; they’re catastrophic. They leave me in emotional ruins, questioning everything. The grief feels endless, and trust—something I value above all else—is shattered. I’m left to navigate the darkness alone, carrying the weight of my pain.

The Descent into the Psyche

After the heartbreak comes a period of deep introspection. I obsessively analyse the relationship—what went wrong, why it ended, and what it all meant. This isn’t just about the other person; it’s about uncovering parts of myself I’ve hidden or neglected. It often draws me to astrology, psychology, and the occult as tools to understand my own depths.

Transformation Through Pain

Venus in the 8th house doesn’t let me stay broken. The pain becomes a crucible, burning away the parts of me that no longer serve my growth. Slowly, I begin to rebuild myself—emotionally, mentally, even physically. The obsession with love turns inward, transforming into a journey of self-discovery and spiritual awakening.

A New Me Emerges

With every heartbreak, I become someone entirely new. The old me dies, replaced by someone stronger, wiser, and more self-aware. I change my appearance, my outlook on life, and even my approach to relationships. This transformation isn’t easy, but it’s profound.

Isolation and Rebirth

Before I can re-enter the world, I retreat into solitude. Isolation is where I shed my old skin, where I rebuild myself from the ashes. During this time, I develop new skills, explore new interests, and grow in ways I never imagined. When I re-emerge, I carry a new sense of power and magnetism—a blend of sophistication, depth, and mystery.

Remembering the Past, Embracing the Future

Even as I step into my new self, the memories of my past linger. I look back at the person I was—the one who loved so recklessly, who gave everything without holding back. I honour that version of myself, even as I move forward. The journey of Venus in the 8th house isn’t just about love; it’s about transformation, healing, and rediscovering the self.

This is what Venus in the 8th house feels like for me: a constant cycle of destruction and renewal, love and loss, heartbreak and healing. It’s not an easy path, but it’s a deeply meaningful one. Every experience shapes me, helping me uncover deeper truths about myself and the world around me.

[infinitegest]

Storage Closet

Horny Plot Device University!

[this longer story is a bit of a prequel to Freshman Dorms II, another HPDU story. starring Quark (they/them) and Vic (they/them), two freshman goons at their dream college]

“This is the worst!”

“What!?”

“I said THIS IS THE WORST!”

The homecoming crowd was deafening.

“It was your idea to come here!”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind!”

A ball moved from one side of the field to the other, and the deafening crowd somehow became more deafening.

“___________!”

“____!?” Quark shouted back.

Vic gestured for Quark to follow. The two of them stumbled past a row of people and beelined for the exit. Finally, with a couple layers of concrete between them and the volume of the game, Vic spoke up.

“I thought that, you know, starting college, new year, new me, maybe the new Vic likes school spirit and football games.”

“And does New Vic magically like meaningless rituals and being bombarded by noise and lights?”

“No, New Vic does not.”

Quark snorted and bumped Vic with their hip.

“Am I the only one who’s impressed at how… flat, all the cheerleaders are?”

Vic cocked an eyebrow. “I bet they have some sort of agreement or contract or something saying that they can’t be pregnant during big games, or maybe the pregnant ones sit it out?”

“Or maybe they save it so after the game, if they win, they can give the team a celebratory bang, and if they lose, they can give them a pity fuck.”

“Is that how people think? Sounds kinda depressing to me.”

“Idk dude, just keep an eye out and see if they’re still flat after tonight.”

They smirked at each other, and walked quietly for a moment.

“So you don’t want to watch the game. What do you want to do?”

“Dunno. We could wander around, explore campus while everything but the stadium’s abandoned?”

“Cool.”

Vic gave Quark a side eye. “So… you were watching the cheerleaders?”

“I mean, yeah. They’re hot, and I can focus on the hotness instead of being worried that they’re going to go into labor or keel over from some Mystery Pregnancy-Related Ailment. Is that a thing? Do people do that?”

“No idea. I haven’t seen anyone on campus keel over from an MPRA, and if you were going to see it anywhere…”

“It’d be here. Yeah.”

“Would you want to try it out?”

“… What?”

“Pregnancy. The whole ‘magically pregnant’ thing.”

Quark stopped. “I mean… yeah, being here, you think about it…”

“You think about it, you see other people swelling up, you watch the cheerleaders and discuss their lack of big, bouncing bellies with, dare I say it, a note of disappointment?”

Quark squinted at Vic. “What are you playing at.”

“Just wondering. The cheap tuition isn’t the only reason the two of us are here, right?”

“Fuck off with the vagaries. Say what you wanna say.”

Vic stepped a little closer than Quark was expecting. “Quark, you’re cool. You’re badass. On top of that, you’re extremely hot.”

They grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I really like you. And if you want to try the whole… whatever is up with this school… I wouldn’t mind being the one you try it with.”

Their faces hovered closer together. Slowly, they leaned into a kiss, uncomfortably hesitant at first, then growing warmer and warmer to each other. Quark grabbed Vic’s hips and nudged up against them, feeling the growing stiffness between Vic’s thighs and realizing that they really, really wanted that inside of them.

They broke apart, breathing heavily and shuddering.

“You want to get me pregnant?”

Vic nodded. “You want me to get you pregnant?”

Quark nodded vigorously.

“Okay then. Let’s knock you up.”

“Wait, like, here and now? Do we wanna go back to the dorms?”

“We could, but…” They looked at each other. Neither of them wanted to wait that long.

“I saw a storage closet back there?”

“Gross. Cliché. Let’s do it.”

“After you, m’theydy.”

“Aaaaaaand just for that I’m gonna find someone else to knock me up, have fun jerking off in a closet!”

Laughing, Vic grabbed Quark as they started walking away and pulled them back. “Ok, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll never say that again.”

“Good, cos if you do, I will smother you with my pregnant belly.”

“Well, we’ve gotta give you that belly first, huh?”

They stumbled over each other, piling into the closet and closing the door behind them.

Quark’s voice in the darkness. “Great. Where’s the fucking light?”

There was the sound of Vic pulling a chain, and the incandescent light flickered on. Quark slowly looked up at Vic, inches away.

They attacked each other, almost tripping several times as clothes started piling up and getting tangled on the floor. Vic wore more layers than Quark, so there was a moment when Quark, stripped to just a black tank top and their socks (no homo), was grinding impatiently against Vic (who was still carefully undoing some clasps) chanting “Get me pregnant get me pregnant comeoncomeongetmepregnant—“

Finally, Vic grabbed hold of Quark, who climbed Vic like a tree, slamming their hips together and fucking like their lives depended on it.

“Come on, come in me, put your babies in me, make me huge and swollen like those cheerleaders are all gonna be!”

Vic slammed Quark against the back wall, pushing as deep into them as they could go, making Quark gasp, their eyes going wide. “I can’t wait to feel you grow, I can’t wait to feel you swelling up, your belly heavy with babies… oh god, I’m going to cum in you…”

“Do it, god I’d love that, I want to be so big I need a wheelchair to get around!”

“You think you can handle a belly that big?”

Quark grabbed Vic’s face and looked into their eyes. “Yes. I want that. I want that so fucking much, I feel so empty right now and I need you to fill me up.”

“Good, because I’m about to cum.”

“Oh fuck, oh F U C K”

They came together, shuddering and clutching, nails digging into skin, before collapsing to the floor, Quark on top of Vic, Vic still inside of Quark.

Vic felt something press against their abs. “Hey, sit up. I think…”

Bleary eyed and grinning, Quark sat up, and almost immediately started grinding on Vic again.

“Quark, wait—oh shit, that feels good—your belly—“

“Knock me up, I need you to fuck me full of babies,” Quark murmured, blissful and unthinking.

“Quark—oh, fuck—Quark, you’re getting big—“ As Quark rode them, Vic put one hand on their bouncing hips and one on their midriff, where their tanktop was quickly losing ground to the growing bump.

“Huh? Oh,” Quark finally noticed their changing body. “Oh fuck. Oh, holy fuck, you got me PREGNANT.” Mad with lust, they started bouncing furiously on Vic’s member.

“Oh, Quark—that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen—I put a baby in your belly,” Vic said, rubbing Quark’s swelling belly, the tanktop stretching thin.

“Do it again, do it AGAIN, fuck, my belly’s so big—“

“Fuck, you’re so good at this— I’m coming again—“

They both moaned as Quark felt Vic exploding, filling them with even more baby batter. Quark slid off, cradling their full-term belly, and felt it start to shift.

Vic was panting, exhausted. “That was amazing, holy shit, I don’t think I have any left in me…”

“Vic, I’m growing again.”

Quark saw something shift in Vic’s eyes when they looked at the expanding stomach now dominating Quark’s lower half. Their breathing deepened, and they sprang erect once again.

“Wait, are you ready to go already?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“I’m already so pregnant…”

“True. But, consider this: I could get you even more pregnant.”

“That’s a good point, I like that point.” Quark grinned and leaned back, spreading their legs wide.

Vic crawled over to them, and, leaning down close, the still-swelling pregnant mound pressing against their abs, they growled: “Let’s see how many babies we can fit in that belly.”

20 minutes later

The belly gently rolled back and forth, jostling its passengers, ensuring they stayed awake and active. Nearly a dozen babies squirmed inside, jockeying for wiggle room.

Quark was bent over, their gargantuan stomach stacked on top of a box of paper towels, while Vic worked on adding more to their ever-growing womb from behind.

“God, I’m still growing, I’m still growing from the last one and you’re putting more in me, I’m never going to stop growing…” Quark said, deliriously happy and horny.

“I love your belly so much,” Vic groaned, “I love feeling you swell up bigger and bigger knowing it’s because of how much I’ve fucked you, FUCK” They slammed into Quark, making every part of them jiggle and adding more babies to the growing process.

“Holy… shit…” Quark weakly patted the bulging orb that had been a cute six-pack less than an hour ago.

“Fuck… I think I’m finally done… Jesus, you’re huge…” Vic pulled back and wiped the sweat from their face.

Quark giggled, and, straining to lift their belly more than an inch above the ground, they turned to face Vic. Or, they tried to face Vic.

“Er… I don’t think I have room to turn around.”

“Hm. That’s okay, I’ll help you get dressed and open the door for you, and you can back out.”

“Insert obligatory truck backing up noises here.”

“Nice. Quality joke.”

Vic managed to roll Quark’s leggings up their shaking legs, giving their hips and ass a squeeze along the way.

“Okay. Beep beep time. Let me out.”

As Vic held the door open, Quark slowly waddled backwards, careful not to bash their womb against any shelves.

Then came the doorframe.

“Uhm. Hm. Vic?”

“Yeah, that’s… a problem.”

“Yeah, you got me so pregnant I can’t fit through the door.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Damn.” Quark looked over their shoulder at their accomplice. “You’ve made my belly so huge I can’t fit through doors. Vic?”

Vic, who seemed lost in thought staring at Quark’s backside, snapped out of it to look up and see Quark’s face, heavy-lidded, and flushed with arousal. They gently wiggled their rear, the lower curve of their crowded belly visible between their legs.

“You filled me up with so many big, heavy babies…”

“I shouldn’t have bothered putting your pants back on, should I.”

“Of course not, you idiot.”

Vic gently pushed Quark back into the closet and set to work bringing Quark up to a full baker’s dozen. Down the hall, an extremely tired-looking custodian radioed the admin building, letting them know of an impending situation.

[drarrypotterrenaissance]

So Good I Could Cry

I saw this post, and knew immediately that I had to write a fic for it. This is my first fic above a T rating, so it was written in one sitting before I could lose my nerve. What follows is the softest, most gentle M-rated fic I think you can find. Additionally, I am very ace, and thought that I was writing Harry as allosexual, until Vukovich told me how much ace Harry came through in this fic, so please take a moment to laugh at my naïvety and then to thank @vukovich for being a wonderful beta reader and for ensuring that I tagged this properly 💜

Words: 1,828 Rating: Mature Summary: There was a tumblr post asking who in your ship cries during sex, and I knew my answer immediately - Harry cries during, and Draco cries afterwards in secret. Read on ao3 here

It’s all so good. Everything has been so good, for months now, that Harry can’t really figure out why it took so long for him to finally ask Draco out. He can’t figure out why multiple years of amazing friendship didn’t turn into dating and kissing sooner, not when it only took him six months to realise that his feelings for Draco weren’t just platonic. He can’t figure out why it took them so long to get here, but he’s beyond glad that they finally have.

Harry’s lost count of how many dates they’ve gone on (although Draco probably knows; he’s obsessive like that, and Harry loves that he knows that about him), or how many times they’ve kissed, or how many scorching looks Draco has given him from the other side of the room. They’ve been taking things slowly, per Draco’s wishes, although Harry hasn’t minded, and has, in fact, been delighted to watch Draco open up to him even more with every dinner and every kiss, like a flower opening so slowly into the morning sun.

Now, though, they’re here, in Harry’s bed with Draco pink-cheeked and sweaty over him, for the very first time. And it’s so good, just like everything else, just like Harry knew it would be, because it’s Draco here with him. Draco’s nerves have dissipated, and he’s radiant, leaning down to kiss Harry, making soft little noises that Harry could listen to forever, beaming and laughing, pressing his eyes shut even as his mouth falls open. There’s a strand of hair that’s come free from its queue, falling alongside Draco’s flushed cheeks, and Harry is overjoyed to watch it sway back and forth, curling up into a gentle ringlet, because that means that Draco must secretly straighten his hair, and Harry knows this now, an intimate little secret to discover even in the midst of this intimate act itself. They’ve been together for so long tonight that Draco’s hair straightening charms have worn off, and he’s comfortable enough with Harry that he hasn’t bothered to refresh them, and now Harry gets to know that there’s a wave to Draco Malfoy’s pin-straight hair, and no one else gets to have that secret.

He reaches a hand up and twirls a finger through Draco’s hair, then cups his face to simply admire him for a moment. Harry doesn’t think that anyone could ever really look attractive during sex. It’s too sweaty and red-faced and slightly gross for anyone to actually look hot the whole way through, but Draco right now is so lovely, so captivatingly beautiful, both for his red-flushed, sweaty face and for how open he is in this moment of vulnerability.

“I love you,” Harry says, before he can stop himself. He’s said it before, a few times, and he’s certain that Draco feels the same way, even if he hasn’t said it back yet. Still, Harry hadn’t wanted to pressure him right now, hadn’t wanted to risk making Draco think that he had to say it back to him at this moment because of everything else. Draco beams, though, and kisses him fiercely, and somewhere in the middle, Harry tips over into ecstasy, coming back to himself moments later with tears wet on his cheeks and more still streaming from his eyes.

They kiss some more after, and then just hold each other close, drifting in and out of sleep for a while. Draco doesn’t say anything about the tears that took a few minutes to stop, although Harry thinks he’d be well within his rights to. Honestly, who cries during sex because their boyfriend secretly has curly hair? Instead, Draco just kisses him, and runs his thumbs under Harry’s eyes to wipe away the tears, and kisses him again while fresh ones appear.

When Harry wakes up an unknown amount of time later, he can still feel the salt, tacky on his cheeks. He passes a hand over his eyes, then scrubs it across his face, before reaching out to pull Draco close to him once more. His hand meets nothing but empty sheets, still warm from Draco’s body, but rapidly cooling. And Harry knows, because he knows Draco, that he’ll be back soon. He hasn’t gone far, nor has he gone for good, and Harry is sure of it even before he sees the light shining from under the ensuite door. If Harry could be patient for two minutes, Draco would surely return to him, eager to reclaim his place next to Harry in their warm bed, and to press his always freezing toes in between Harry’s legs. But Harry’s in love with him, and everything is so good when they’re together, and he doesn’t want to be separated even for the next two minutes, and so he gets up and pads over to the bathroom door, knocking gently to preserve the quiet of the pre-dawn stillness.

“Draco?”

There’s no answer, but Harry can hear the sink running, so he pushes the door open a crack and says Draco’s name again, sees his bare back stiffen slightly at the sound of Harry’s voice. He splashes water on his face once, then turns around with a towel pressed to his cheeks, patting himself dry even as Harry steps into his space and puts his hands gently around Draco’s waist. Draco leans into the touch, but doesn’t respond in kind, continuing to dry his face, the towel now an obstacle, keeping Harry from kissing him like he so desperately wants to. Instead, Harry slips his pinkies into the waistband of the boxers Draco has put back on, and gently smooths his thumbs up and down Draco’s sides.

“Hi,” he says, still making an effort to be quiet for no reason.

“Hello,” Draco whispers back, the towel still obscuring his face and muffing his voice slightly.

“Is everything alright?” Harry gives one of Draco’s hips a gentle squeeze, and Draco sways slightly into his hand.

Draco nods, but doesn’t say anything, and the towel is still hiding his face, which means Harry is forced to judge by Draco’s stiff shoulders how much of a lie his nod was. Harry slowly pulls the towel down, revealing Draco much as he was only an hour before; his face is red and blotchy, his hair is mussed, and his eyes are closed. Unlike before though, his face is now wet with tears instead of perspiration, and Harry feels a stab of pain go through his heart at the idea that something is marring this perfect night for Draco.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, moving his hands to cup Draco’s face, almost able to see the same motion echoed between them from earlier in the evening.

Draco shakes his head, and another tear falls to meet Harry’s thumb before being wiped away.

“Nothing. I’m fine, truly I am. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Harry wipes away another tear and tilts Draco’s chin up gently until he meets his eyes. He can’t quite parse the emotions that he sees going across Draco’s face, but he can understand, at least in part, how Draco must be feeling. Tonight was a big step for both of them, their first time together, but it was Draco’s first time ever, and Harry feels like his chest might burst with love for Draco for letting him share this moment with him. Some of that must be reflected on his own face, because Draco gives him a watery little smile and tries again to explain.

“I’m fine, it’s just…” ‘A lot’ finishes Draco’s voice in Harry’s head, but he remains silent and gives Draco the chance to say the words for himself. “A lot,” he says, with another small smile, and then his lower lip begins to quaver again. “It’s all been really good!” he hastens to add. “And I’m fine!” he says, more tears splashing down his face. “It’s just a lot, all at once.”

Harry nods his head, wipes Draco’s tears, and kisses him. It’s not one of their best kisses, Draco sniffles in the middle of it, and Harry’s pretty sure that there’s snot in his mouth, but it’s still absolutely perfect, because it’s the two of them standing together in the middle of Harry’s bathroom at some wretchedly early hour in the morning.

When they pull apart, Harry swipes his thumbs across Draco’s cheeks again and says, “I get it.” At Draco’s raised eyebrow - and, oh, what a joy, to see Draco’s dearly loved prickly little personality pushing through his tears - Harry reminds him, “I was crying earlier tonight, too.” He shrugs. “It can be overwhelming sometimes, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t amazing.”

Draco scrubs the towel across his face once more, then fits himself to Harry’s body, pressing his face into the spot between his neck and shoulder that he had been kissing earlier that evening. Draco’s nose presses into a tender area, and Harry thrills to consider that he might have a bruise there in the morning, and can’t wait to avoid all of Draco’s attempts to heal it with magic, instead letting it linger for days as a reminder of tonight. Maybe, he thinks nonsensically, he could even get a tattoo there, to preserve it for all eternity.

“I woke up and wanted to wash my hands,” Draco says out of nowhere, the words slightly muffled against Harry’s skin, “and when I saw myself in the mirror, I just. I don’t know. I guess I thought that maybe I would look different, afterwards. Which, I know that’s silly, but I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see. And I couldn’t tell if I looked different or not. All I could think about was how I must have looked to you-”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Harry interrupts, and Draco laughs a little before pressing on.

“And then I was thinking about how you looked at me, and, and, and you love me-”

“I do,” Harry says,

“-and,” Draco’s fists tighten against Harry’s back, and he can feel the material of the towel Draco is still holding move against his spine. Draco pulls back slightly, and looks Harry in the eye. He’s a bit of a mess, with his cheeks a chaotic pink and his eyelashes spiky from tears, but once again Harry is certain that he’s never seen anyone more lovely, “and, Harry, I love you too,” he says, and possibly some other words after that, but those are lost into Harry’s mouth, kissing him thoroughly before lifting him up, letting Draco wrap his legs around Harry’s waist, and carrying him back to bed.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, it’s with Draco curled around him, his face pressed against Harry’s chest, and the bathroom hand towel, which Harry now realises is the novelty Celestina Warbeck one that Draco got him as a joke, squashed under his armpit. It’s so strange, and so perfect, that Harry wants to laugh. It’s all just really good.

[infiniteeight8]

Omega Tony x Alpha Stephen, except, Tony is the dominant one in bed.

Ooh, I like it. For anyone who enjoys this particular A/B/O dynamic and is flexible on fandoms, I recommend Claimed by @cupcakefoggy (Thirteen Lives fandom).

Have an entire sex scene under the cut. It’s hard to resist sub!Stephen. lol.

-

Stephen has barely cleared the bedroom threshold when Tony grabs him by the front of his robes and all but drags him over to the bed. Stephen laughs, unresisting. “I’m quite willing to cooperate, you know,” he teases.

Tony scoffs. “You like it when I manhandle you.” He begins quickly and expertly stripping Stephen out of his robes.

Stephen flushes, because it’s true. Stephen is no slouch, physically, but Tony keeps in shape to operate a forge, not to mention the armor, which requires a certain degree of strength to move no matter how well the nanotech assists Tony. The thought that Tony, an omega, is more than capable of holding down Stephen, an alpha, goes right to Stephen’s cock every time.

“To what do I owe today’s eagerness?” Stephen asks, not that it’s unusual. Tony has a higher non-heat libido than anyone else he’s ever been with. It’s a little intoxicating, being wanted that much.

“I got stuck,” Tony says. He leaves Stephen to take off his boots while stripping out of his own clothing. One of Tony’s go-to methods for clearing his mind when he hits a wall is jerking off. Unfortunately, while the orgasm does help him think, sexually it just riles him up. 

Stephen gets his pants off and slides backwards onto the bed, pulling a couple of pillows over to support his head and shoulders. He’s just in time; Tony crawls over him and fists a hand in the hair at the back of Stephen’s head, holding him still for a deep, hungry kiss. Stephen moans into it and yields. When Tony pulls back, his eyes are dark. “And then I got unstuck and you still weren’t home.”

“Terribly sorry,” Stephen says, and it’s supposed to be a tease, but part of him is sorry. 

“You can make it up to me,” Tony murmurs, sliding a hand down Stephen’s body and wrapping it around his rapidly hardening cock, “by giving me a nice, thick knot to ride.” He kisses Stephen again without waiting for a response. Not that a response is really necessary: Stephen’s body reacts to Tony as it always does. Pleasure sparks warmth in every inch of him. Stephen could swear that he can feel his pulse in his palms where they curl around Tony’s hips, a much needed anchor in the whirlpool of sensation.

When Tony pulls back from the kisses, Stephen leans up after him automatically and whines softly when Tony presses him down with a hand on his chest. “As much as I enjoy your mouth,” Tony says, sliding backwards just a bit, “it’s not what I want most just now.”

Stephen moans helplessly as Tony rocks, rubbing his hole against the straining length of Stephen cock. He’s dripping with slick already. Tony lifts up and positions himself, then slowly eases down, taking Stephen’s cock into the hot clutch of his body. “Tony,” Stephen gasps. It’s so much, so good. He rests his hands on Tony’s thighs where they’re spread astride him. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Tony says, breathless, his hole clenching around Stephen as he adjusts. “God, you’re just perfect, exactly what I needed.”

Pride rushes through Stephen and he watches, rapt, as Tony slowly eases himself up and then lets himself sink down again, faster and faster. His knot is throbbing already, and every time Tony’s wet rim kisses the edge of it, it tears a keen of sheer need out of Stephen. “Tony, please,” Stephen begs, “please let me knot you, please, I’ll be so good, I swear it.”

“I know you will,” Tony says, chest heaving for breath as he works himself up and down Stephen’s cock, his thighs bunching and releasing under Stephen’s hands. “Just a little more.”

Stephen groans but holds on, his world narrowing to the ache of his knot and the pure bliss shining out of Tony’s expression. He loses all sense of time; it could be a minute or an hour before Tony catches his gaze, smiles, and says, “Here we go, baby.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Stephen says, his voice breaking as Tony presses down, his body stretching inexorably, until finally Stephen’s knot slides into him. Tony shouts with completion, grinding down into the fullness of the tie as his orgasm tears through him, and Stephen’s eyes roll back, his breath caught in his throat as he comes, too. His knot swells just that last bit more and he comes in great spurts, hot and thick and so, so good.

Stephen blinks as he slowly comes back to himself, eventually focusing enough to take in the truly delicious sight of Tony still sitting astride him, Stephen’s knot buried deep and firmly tied. A satisfaction so deep it’s almost smug radiates from Tony. “You are incredible,” Stephen murmurs.

Tony chuckles. “I think that’s my line.”

“Hmmm. Well, we’re certainly incredible together,” Stephen, bouncing his hips just enough to jostle Tony. They both catch their breath.

“Be careful what you invite there,” Tony says, grinning.

Stephen grins back. 

Neither of them have ever particularly cared for careful.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 21 But then I found you

Chapter 21 of Sugar

A/N- Choso just needs some time to understand the jokes and when he does he’ll be the only one to laugh even if he doesn’t truly get it.

Warning- Swearing, angst, FLUFF!!!!, mentions of death, spoilers, SLOW BURN, heavy pining, dark joke, long chapter

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- Chapter 139 of the Manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

It’s said that the worst day isn't the day you lose someone, but instead the days after. They say that the silence after the noise of funerals and everything that deals with that is deafening.

You aren’t having a funeral for the twins or Nanami though because you’re practically on the run since everyone is in a frenzy after the events at Shibuya. So only hours pass for you when the silence turns deafening and you know you’re living through the worst day of your life this year.

One that doesn’t let you sleep because all you can do is think of nothing else but Nanako, Mimiko, and Nanami. All you can do is cry quietly on the lonely bed, wishing for someone to tell you that’ll be fine, that at least they’re not in pain anymore, or just to simply keep you company so you’re not alone.

Usually, you would have gone to Nanami or he would have come to you without even needing to be told. Or you would have the twins and you’d comfort each other, but they’re all gone and you’re alone. And you hate it.

It's why even if you’re still exhausted you leave the room you’re staying in and sit on a windowsill in the living room, to watch the raindrops collect on the window while morning slowly rises.

Sure the living room doesn’t resolve the loneliness you feel, but the music of the pattering rain is enough to fill some of the silence. You could almost fall asleep, it would keep your mind quiet for a while, but the matter of the fact is that when you close your eyes you see their faces, so you just choose to watch the rain.

The only time you peel your eyes away is when your curiosity is piqued the moment the floor creaks behind you. And when you look back you’re not disappointed when you see Choso.

“Oh,” he whispers and freezes as if he was caught doing something bad. “I didn’t know you were here. It’s dark.”

You sit up and quickly excuse yourself as if you were also caught doing something you aren’t supposed to. “Yeah, I didn’t want to bother anyone by having the light on. Sorry did I scare you?”

Choso quickly assures you. “No,”

You hum with contentment and then playfully narrow your eyes on him. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” You pick on him.

“Aren't you?” He rebuttals, making the corner of your lips tug to a faint half-smile.

“Touché, and,” you add. “Yes, but…well the room was quiet so I came here.”

Choso blinks in confusion and glances around the room as if searching for the resolve to your silence, but he finds nothing but more silence.

“And you? Why are you up?” You ask. “It’s still early after the night we had.”

“Water,” Choso says. “I came for water.”

You hum and look back at the rain to let him grab his water. And when you hear him pouring the body of water into his cup, you press your fingertip on the glass and use your technique to form the raindrops on the glass into bunnies.

And perhaps it’s such a silly thing to do still at 28, but you find comfort in the creatures you can make, especially in the bunnies you shape because they carry so much more meaning now.

“Can I ask you guys something important? What’s your favorite animal, hm?”

You remember them looking at one another trying to figure out what you were up to while they chose to give into your antics with wholehearted trust.

“Bunnies!”

Nanako said for her and Mimiko.

Bunnies.

You never gave them much thought before, the twins liked them and as they grew, Nanako continued to like them when Mimiko grew out of them.

Bunnies.

It was also a nickname you used for them that sounded made for them. They never complained about it or asked you to stop calling them that. Even when they got older.

Bunnies…

You never gave them much thought before, but now you’ll live the rest of your life thinking about them and remembering the twins.

“Here,” Choso breaks you from your train of thought, making you drop the rainwater and look over to see him offering you a cup of water.

“Oh,” you gasp softly and take the cup. “Thank you.” You smile at him and feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the simple gesture. Which is why as Choso shifts his body to walk away, you interject.

“Wait, hm…” you hesitate simply out of timidness. “Do you want to sit with me? It’s okay if you don’t, you can go back to bed.”

You don’t look back and wait for his response with your eyes glued on the water in your cup out of fear of rejection.

“Yes,” he assures your pounding heart. “I do.”

You sigh softly and lift your eyes to watch him turn back. When he’s taken his seat though, you drift your gaze back out the window to continue to watch the rain and listen to its melody as it hits the glass.

And whereas the rain filled the silence before but wasn’t enough to keep you company, now you hear the soft breaths Choso takes through the rain's music; you feel the warmth of his body radiate out as he sits only inches away from you, and it’s because of those simple and quiet details that the loneliness you had felt antagonizing your heart disappears.

You don’t even need to look at him to reaffirm anything either, that’s enough to satisfy you. However, you still can’t help but steal a glance over at him and take in the sight of his relaxed face as he watches the rain fall. You watch him softly narrow his eyes, and guess to yourself that he might be thinking. What about is a question that makes an appearance in your head for a second before you take a drink of your water and look out again as your mind wanders to another thought.

And unbeknownst to you Choso steals a glance right back at you and watches your gaze get lost on a raindrop for a long moment before you finally blink and shift your gaze, making him quickly look away.

“Choso,” you break the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

Said man drifts his eyes over to you and you suddenly feel your breath hitch in your throat as you grow nervous under his intense gaze.

“Yes,” he welcomes your curiosity.

You swallow back nervously and glance at your bare fingernails to build your courage before you speak up. “How…hm,” you pause and drop your head to place the cup down between your legs. “How did you forgive Itadori?” You finally ask and slowly lift your gaze to watch for his reaction.

“I mean I heard what you told him last night,” you explain further. “But there was a moment where you were debating it right? Whether to forgive the boy that killed your brothers or not?”

Choso draws out a deep breath and nods softly, relieving your guilt.

“Okay,” you whisper and exhale deeply before you continue with your point. “Because…it’s been 11 years since my brother…betrayed me,” you pause hesitantly since you don’t know how to exactly sum it all up to one short story without telling a long dreadful one.

“And it’s almost been 1 year since we’ve reunited, and in that year he’s been nothing but great to my daughter, he’s tried to be good to me, but…I still can’t find it in me to forgive him,” you share in a tearful voice. “I told him a few weeks ago that I was ready to try, but now he’s gone, and all I want is to forgive him before I get him out of that prison. I don’t want to hold resentment, but I don’t know how…so,” you slowly drag on as you grow more nervous. “How did you forgive Itadori? How did you know it was right?”

Choso watches you for a moment as if trying to find his answer on your face before he looks away and looks for his answer on some random crevice.

And once again, as you watch him you see him slightly narrow his gaze. However, this time you also see his thick eyebrows pinch together before they relax again just before he snaps his eyes up to meet your waiting gaze.

“I don’t know,” he shares in an honest tone. You can tell because there's a gentle shift in his deep and nonchalant voice. “I think it was just a feeling in my gut. It felt like the right thing to do because the more I thought about it the more I realized it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know who he was fighting, so he couldn’t have control over the situation.”

You pick up your cup to drink water as you let his words sink.

“So maybe go with the right feeling? I don’t know,” he confesses. “But what I do know is that as older brothers we make mistakes too.”

You smile sweetly at his words, making Choso swallow thickly.

“Thank you,” you whisper and offer him a wider smile.

Choso parts his lips but quickly closes his mouth and sighs before he mutters, “you’re welcome.”

You beam at him as you realize he corrected himself. “Nice,” you acknowledge his gratitude.

Choso looks down and tries to hide his soft smile, but you catch it and feel that fluttering in your stomach that you never want to lose.

Silence follows after that for a few minutes before Choso interjects this time. “Can I ask you something now?”

You blink with surprise and quickly nod to try and satisfy your curiosity.

“When do you think Yuji will acknowledge me as his older brother?” He asks with worry and complete seriousness, but you can’t help but giggle at how cute it sounds.

“What?” He queries.

You shake your head. “Nothing…it’s just…nothing.” You clear your throat and grow a bit serious as the weight of his questions falls on your shoulders. “Just give him time.”

“How much time?” Choso impatiently cuts in.

You shrug. “His world just got turned upside down, you know?” You sigh. “His friend is…well…” you trail off since you told him last night on your way to find Itadori—“one mentor died,” you add. “And the other was taken. And on the same day, he finds out that the guy he was fighting and was almost killed by is actually his long lost older brother, it’s a lot to progress so give him time.”

Choso looks unsatisfied so you lean over your knees and offer him advice. “Be there for him like you are now. Check up on him as he’s dealing with his emotions. You don’t have to say anything on the matter, but letting him know that you’re there for him would be great.”

“Okay.”

“For example,” you add to help him more. “Now, when my students bring us the groceries I asked for, we can make him breakfast. He may not want to eat, but you know what? Just letting him know you’re worried and thinking about him is a small step in the right direction!”

“Really?” Choso asks with his eyes filled with curiosity and trust for what you’re saying.

“Really.” You confirm sweetly.

“Okay.” Choso trusts you.

“We’ll just have to wait an hour because I did also ask my kids to pick up some stuff from my house,” you break it to him, making him react with a soft scoff.

“Tsk.”

You snicker and sit back to watch the rain again, missing the way he keeps his eyes on you as he builds the courage to ask a question off-topic. One that he doesn't know whether you'll be happy to hear or upset. Plus you look happier now, so he doesn’t want to see you upset all over again.

Yet he wants to ask so he takes the risk. “How’s your daughter? Did she make it out okay?”

You snap your eyes over to Choso and your smile falls flat, making him start to regret asking.

Nevertheless, you then flash him a smile and gladly answer. “She did, she’s on her way to Italy right now with Belinda, her caretaker, who actually,” you let him know. “Was my caretaker too.”

Choso blinks and rebuttals in a very serious nonchalant way. “You need a caretaker?”

You chuckle and quickly counter. “No—imagine though? Like during a battle, someone’s just taking care of me,” you play along with a laugh, making his face burn and his heart race before he can’t help but smile faintly at the sight of your own reaction.

“No, but,” you clear your throat. “Belinda was mine and Satoru’s caretaker when we were young, so there’s no one I trust more with my little girl than Belinda.”

Choso hums and you add on excitedly.

“She’s going to be taking strolls around town, going to the beach, harvesting grapes, and looking for cute souvenirs because she says she wants to give her uncle something cute when he gets out of his prison realm.” You grin, and Choso’s lips pull to a soft smile.

“So,” he adds hesitantly. “She’s not upset you’re not leaving with her?”

You sigh deeply and carefully spin the water in your cup. “Yeah,” you admit. “But I told her that I have to stay here to work on getting Satoru out of the prison realm, so that kind of calmed her down.” You say and frown out of shame and sadness that you have to send your daughter away.

Choso reads your expression as if he’s known you for years and makes an assumption. “It’s for her own good.”

You exhale deeply. “Yeah, I know.” You smile again and nudge his foot with yours. “Thank you for asking, I appreciate it.”

Choso holds your gaze and glances down at your lips pulled to a smile before meeting your gaze again and offering you a small acknowledging nod.

“Now,” you add and swing your legs off the windowsill. “Do you want to watch a movie while we wait?” You ask and take the blanket you had been sitting on to throw it over you and walk to the TV. “We would watch an animated one about brothers going on drastically different revenge trips after their older brother dies. One ends up transformed because of his revenge, and the other one ends up blinded by anger. It’s a very good movie and it makes me cry all the time. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Yeah,” Choso agrees. “That’s fine.”

You peer over at him to flash him a smile as he takes a seat on the end of the couch. When you look down to grab the remote you smile wider to yourself over the fact that you don’t feel alone anymore with him here with you.

——

*2 HOURS LATER*

A knock rapping on the door sends you sliding off your seat to rush and open the door. And even if you expected them (an hour ago), seeing Kirara and Hakari standing in the hall, under the flickering light; some of the darkness that held you captive broke away, letting you feel lighter, like…you aren’t drowning by the weight of your emotions anymore.

“Finally,” you greet them nonchalantly even if that does nothing to hide the grief so noticeable in your puffy eyes. “I’m starving.”

“Master,” Kirara whispers as they look into your eyes to try and find something to say and a way to react as you stand before them.

“You look like crap master,” Hakari says brashly. “It's a good thing we brought your things.”

You flash him a soft smile before you glance down at your luggage he shows off.

“I almost thought you wouldn't get here, I almost cried thinking I was going to have to wear this forever,” you say dramatically and step aside to let him in.

“Master,” Kirara repeats in that soft voice.

“Kira, darling,” you greet them and look at them with a teasing smile.

Kirara drops the grocery bags and watches you with a trembling bottom lip before they close the gap and wrap you in an embrace.

You’re caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but you don’t question what brought this on, you told them about Nanako, Mimiko, and Nanami. So this embrace was for that.

It’s true they usually give you hugs here and there, they're more affectionate than Hakari after all, but you saw the pity in their eyes the moment you opened the door. They didn’t need to say a word about it for you to know.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” they murmur against you.

Yet no matter how much you knew, how much you prepared to appear strong while they were here, you still can’t help yourself from breaking just a little by the feeling of their comfort.

Whereas Choso filled the silence and did not make you feel alone or hopeless. Hakari and Kirara are still what keep you from drowning any further.

“Thank you, Kira,” you whisper and squeeze them gently, letting a couple of tears fall down your cheeks.

“Kin might not say it but it was his idea to come,” they reveal. “He wanted to come last night to keep you company, but he respected your wishes and we stayed home like you asked.”

Your breath hitches softly and you feel your heart fill with bliss. “Thank you,” whisper again and linger in their embrace for a moment longer before you pull back and hold their hands. “This is why you’re my favorite,” you taunt loudly.

“I heard that!” Hakari exclaims from the kitchen. “Eh, who are you?” He abruptly changes his tone of voice to something rougher, so you immediately drop Kirara's hands and help them with some groceries to then rush into the kitchen where Hakari is staring Choso down.

“Kin this is Choso,” you quickly interject. “He’s my friend.”

Hakari’s shoulders relax and he squints his gaze before interjecting. “How good are you at fighting?” He then looks over at you. “How good is your guy at fighting?”

You pluck a grape from one of the bags and throw it in your mouth. “Let him answer,” your voice comes out muffled.

“So,” Hakari redirects. “Are you any good? You could make good money.”

Choso’s eyes drift to you in confusion, but before you can help him out of the situation Kirara blurts as they walk up behind you. “Wait, this is him? Is this the same Choso you told us about? The cursed womb?”

Your face burns and Choso’s eyes slightly widen in surprise.

“Yeah this is him,” you agree and hide your face by putting the groceries down to avoid getting seen all flustered by Kirara and Hakari because they will notice and catch your racing heart when you simply lay your eyes on Choso.

“Choso,” you change the subject and look up proudly. “These are my students, the ones I told you about! This right here Kirara Hoshi,” you point over your shoulder.

“Hello,” Kirara greets and leans over your shoulder. “I like your buns.”

You smile softly, and see Choso grow a bit flustered. “Thank you,” he responds with nonchalance.

“And this,” you move on and grab Hakari’s arm. “Is Kinji Hakari. They’re my star pupils.” You show off like a proud mother and throw your arms around their shoulders. “My kids.”

“We’re her only students,” Kirara makes the point clear. “So there’s not really more to choose from.”

“Not like we’re complaining,” Hakari cuts in.

“Y/N has spoken highly of the both of you in the short time we’ve been together,” Choso shares bluntly and adds nothing else. That’s it.

“I assume we'll make breakfast now,” Choso adds. “I’ll fetch Yuji.”

You hum in comprehension and watch him until he disappears down the hall.

“Master?” Hakari snaps your attention back to the kitchen.

“Hm?” You probe and look at him.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry for your losses,” he says. “I hope this is not the end for you, it would be disappointing.”

You scoff softly and he catches you off guard when he places his hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

However, you can’t say you hate the gesture. It’s his form of an embrace, so you return it by reaching over and giving his hand a returning squeeze.

“Thank you, Kin. And it’s not, now I’m planning to kill the man in Suguru’s body and get my brother back.”

Hakari smirks. “I like the sound of that.”

You let his hand go, letting him slide his hand off your shoulder.

“I can’t kill Sukuna myself,” you grumble and begin to take things from the bags to put them away. “I’m not that stupid either, but I can kill Noritoshi—Or I can find a way to destroy Sukuna from the inside,” you sneer.

“What about both?” Hakari suggests as he sits back on the counter to watch Kirara and you put things away. “It’ll be a hell of a mission.”

You snicker. “Did you guys take in the city sights?” You change the subject as he mentions missions.

“Yeah,” Kirara cuts in. “I can’t believe we missed it. You really downplayed it!”

“I said big crater!” You argue. “There was a big crater!”

“Along with crumbling towers, cracked streets, and large gaps in walls,” Hakari adds sarcastically. “Yeah, but no biggie. It doesn’t compare to Egypt.”

You peer at him over your shoulder and smile. “Exactly what I told Yuki.” You wink at him.

“Only we didn’t destroy part of a city,” Kirara says, making Hakari and you both quickly rebuttal.

“Close enough.”

“I am sorry that we couldn’t lend a helping hand in all the fun,” Hakari continues with a stifled laugh and smacks the arm you regrew before he picks it up and examines it, making Kirara drop what they held to study your arm too as if it was some kind of miracle.

“I know it doesn’t hurt anymore,” Kirara says. “But are you sure there aren’t any lingering effects?”

“Just her unmanicured nails,” Hakari points out your insecurity.

“I’m working on it,” you whine and look at Kirara. “Would you help me? I can’t possibly go on with my nails all naked.”

Alas just as Kirara is about to agree, Choso entering the kitchen alone steals your attention.

“He said he didn’t want to come,” he shares almost disappointedly.

You pull your hand away from the student's grasp and offer Choso an assuring smile. “Just give him time. You can offer him breakfast later. For now, why don’t you come help me make some, hm? Or you can help Hakari put the things away.”

Choso nods and doesn’t hesitate to walk in and join the three of you in the kitchen, choosing to be by your side instead of in between you and your kids who watched him like hungry predators.

“I thought about it,” you direct at him with a smile. “We can make something savory like omelets!”

Choso raises his eyebrow and argues nonchalantly. “You said you wanted something sweet.”

You nod. “I know, but it’s too late to make what I wanted, I’m starving, so something quick is what we’re going with today.”

He hums and you don’t take that as a protest so you don’t change your mind.

“I can help you master,” Kirara cuts in and barges in between Choso and you. “We came with an appetite.”

You furrow your eyebrows and quietly wonder what that was about before you look over your shoulder to find your answer with Hakari. However, he looks away at that moment, making you quip. “Late and with an appetite? I swear.”

“You wouldn’t let us starve now would you?” Kirara speaks softly and sweetly, using your own tricks on you. “Who knows what we may face on our way home you know with all those curses—”

“I get it, I get it,” you cut them off and grumble. “And using my tricks on me? At least bat your lashes won’t you?”

Kirara laughs, and you can’t help but smile softly. Actually, you can’t help but feel happy being in the kitchen with your students and with Choso. You don’t feel alone with all the noise, you feel content with all the uproar Kirara and Hakari provide by being here.

However, in between all the bliss, the laughs, and the stories you all tell Choso who never wavers his attention, comes back that agonizing sorrow.

Just a couple of days ago you were laughing and gossiping with Satori, and the twins. Just a couple of days ago you still had them with you, and your heart wasn’t completely satisfied, but you were happy. Now they’re gone and that’s all that occupies your mind; along with their—no Mimiko’s body…you never saw Nanako’s body…You never saw her face, you just found her phone.

And for some reason that irks you so much that what you knew gets all twisted and you foolishly start to hope that you can still find her. Or that she’ll find you.

All because a good morning triggered a flood of memories you return to the station and wait. You wait with hope that you’ll find Nanako.

Yet she doesn’t come that evening, but instead of feeling discouraged and thinking straight, you continue to hope and wait. Wait, and wait for five days for a moment in time while Itadori is out curse hunting and Choso is following him, making sure he’s okay and hoping that Itadori will acknowledge him as a brother.

They don’t know that you find a spot near where you found the twins and wait. They don’t know until one does on the fifth day after they discreetly follow you, making you delusional and believe that the footsteps that approach you are Nanako’s.

Alas, when you look over your smile falls and your heart weeps a little when it’s not her.

“Choso,” you greet quietly and sit back down with your head hanging low. “What are you doing here?”

Choso falls beside you and then responds. “I was wondering where you came to every day for the past five days.”

You sigh and speak just above a whisper. “Here. I’m not hiding something if that’s what you think.”

“I debated it,” he confesses.

You huff softly, and he slowly slides down the wall to sit beside you.

“You can go,” you murmur and keep averting your gaze. “Make sure Itadori doesn’t run into any trouble. I just want to stay here and wait a little while longer…” you trail off and cradle Nanako’s broken phone against your chest.

“Wait for what?” Choso asks and you can’t tell if it’s some joke or a genuine question. Isn’t it obvious?

“She can still come,” you whisper sharply.

Choso shifts uncomfortably and breathes out. “Oh.” He doesn’t try to argue with you like others would have to get you to see the truth. He doesn’t snap back after you raised your voice. He continues to sit there in silence with you. And you feel grateful that he does.

You find comfort in the feeling of his presence and the sound of his calm breathing. You also slowly come back to the truth in his silence.

“Right?” You ask. “I didn’t see her…she can still come back…right?”

Choso lingers in the silence for a moment before he parts his lips. “I—”

“She can’t,” you cut him off to answer your own question because you already knew the truth. You had known it since the moment you found their bodies, but these calm days clouded your mind and made you cling onto hope.

You can see clearly now though, and a part of you dies inside because of it.

After days of knowing and crying at night, you finally come to terms with the fact that you will live the rest of your life without Nanako and Mimiko. The girls that aren’t even biologically yours, but you loved with every fiber in your body. The girls who you debated accepting into your life because you feared being a bad parent to them, but ended up trying to be everything your parents weren't to you. They’re gone. They’re gone forever, and you have to accept that. You do accept that now in the silence of the room that you fill with your broken cries and sniffles.

Several minutes pass before the room falls completely silent again and your shoulders stop shaking, however, you still remain seated and stare at the floor while Choso sits beside you not knowing what to do or how to comfort you until he finally finds the courage and breaks the silence.

“I found this.”

You wipe the stray tears off your cheeks and lift your head to watch him pull something out of his pocket. When his hand is close to you he opens his palm and shows off a small, but broken glass swan figurine infused with a red-orange color combination.

“Oh it’s broken,” Choso grumbles with a pout and closes his hand over the figurine to get rid of the broken glass.

Albeit you quickly grab his hand to stop him. “Not necessarily,” you assure him and pull his hand back towards you. “Hold the pieces together, I can fix it.”

You open Choso’s hand for him and then shift to be face to face.

“The neat thing about my technique,” you say and put Nanako’s phone away to summon fire to your finger. “I can fix these kinds of things.”

Choso puts the parts together and holds it out for you.

“One time,” you continue to speak while you begin to mend the pieces back together. “When I was a little girl, I was playing inside with my brother—twist,” you instruct him, and when he does you continue on. “…and we broke this crazy expensive glass vase, so,” you huff and smile faintly. “To avoid getting in trouble we stayed up all night and I put it back together.”

Choso hums in comprehension and you lift your gaze off the glass swan to look at him and hum back.

“Did they find out?” He probes. “Your parents?”

You shake your head. “No—twist—but my cousins did end up breaking it the following week, so,” you click your tongue. “That was that.”

You sit up straight and put the fire out to instead gather a swirl of air over your fingertip and redirect it at the swan to cool it off and finish your work.

“Look at that,” you muse happily and sit back to face Choso. “All fixed!”

Choso holds the figurine in between his fingertips and turns it gently to study your work.

“It’s not as it used to be, but it’s still pretty,” you try to make him feel better.

Choso hums and drifts his eyes over to you. “It’s for you,” he says and pushes the glass figurine towards you.

“For me?” You whisper and touch your chest with surprise.

Choso nods. “I found it amongst some rubble and…picked it up for you. It wasn’t broken then though.”

You hold his gaze for a lingering moment as you progress his gesture as if it’s the first time someone has done anything kind for you when it’s not true. People have done kind stuff for you. Yet you still can’t help but feel flustered and surprised over Choso doing it.

“Thank you,” you coo and take the glass swan from his grasp to gently cup it in your hands and admire the red-orange design that makes it look like fire is trapped inside—“it’s beautiful. I’ll cherish it forever.” You bat your lashes and meet his gaze with a beaming grin.

Choso blinks repeatedly and his cheeks grow a tint of red while his lips slowly pull to a sweet smile.

You should look away, you want to keep admiring the little swan, but you can’t rip your eyes away. You continue to hold his gaze as if you’re magnetized to him, and in that precise moment as you look into his kind and rich brown eyes, everything slows down and only you and him exist in your vast and beautiful world as a realization hits your mind and heart.

It’s a sweet and kind realization that lets you know that what you feel goes past just attraction; your face burns and your heart skips a beat for him because you…like him. You want to feel the warmth of his lips on yours, you want him to hold you intimately, and you want to make him laugh and smile in ways only you know how to.

You never thought you’d feel that burning desire again, even if Suguru said you should find someone to make you happy, you never found the urge or the need to after him, but here is Choso, and it’s such an exciting feeling. Something new and positively overwhelming that you never felt for Suguru.

Does he feel the same though?

You see his gaze linger, he keeps you company without you needing to tell him, he blushes a lot over the small things you say, and you often hear his breath hitch when you’re close to him. Plus you’re not a clueless and an inexperienced teenager anymore, you notice things even if you don’t point it out or make it obvious—And well he’s not really discreet about his feelings.

But…you know what you’ve done. You know who you are, and he’s sweet and passionate. He’s everything you like in a man, and it’s exactly why he’s not someone you deserve. So even if he gives you these sweet gifts, makes your heart sing the sweetest song, and makes you burn up with desire, you can’t encourage anything. You don’t deserve him or his big heart; he might not agree or see that detail, but you see it and you’re not worthy of him.

“Thank you once again, Choso,” you whisper and pull back.

He hums.

“I have something to tell you now,” you mutter and look back at the swan. “Something serious and private.”

You can’t encourage feelings of desire, but you still want to be his friend.

“You can’t tell anyone, okay? Promise?” You make yourself clear.

Choso swallows thickly and nods. “I won’t tell anyone.”

You nod. “Good. Good,” you murmur and continue to bite back a smile and sigh to pretend to be serious. “I…stayed up all night last night wondering where the sun went.” You hold his gaze and finish with a growing smile. “And then it dawned on me.” You snort and watch for his reaction.

Choso blinks and his eyebrows slowly begin to furrow.

“Get it?” You ask with a grin. “It dawned on me?” You snicker and can’t help but laugh at your own joke.

Choso doesn’t join in though, so you calm down and shake your head. “It’s not as funny when I have to explain the joke. So I’ll tell you another one.” You clear your throat and continue. “I tried to catch some fog the other day. I missed. Wait…” you trail off and laugh. “I said it wrong!” You push his shoulder and laugh harder. “I said it wrong! Listen, Choso.” You clear your throat again and sit up to face him and retell the joke. “I tried to catch some fog the other day. I mist.” You flash him a grin for a second before you sigh deeply. “I ruined it. Damn.”

Choso drops his head and strokes his chin, making you mindlessly smile in awe.

“Oh,” Choso interjects with a breathless scoff a few minutes later. “I get it. They’re jokes.”

You giggle and nod. “Yes. They are, but I guess I have to find the right one. Don’t worry I know tons. It’ll just take some time to find it.”

Choso hums and then his lips pull to a half smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”

You smile and nod. “Good. Now,” you draw out a deep breath. “Let’s go meet up with Itadori.”

You push yourself off your seat and Choso mirrors you. When you’re about a thirds of a way near the exit you break your silence and nudge his arm.

“I was thinking about ways to get your brothers out.”

Choso blinks and his eyes soften when he looks at you.

“Okay,” you go on as you fiddle with the glass swan. “One, we ask for help from my doctor friend. But…I am leaning away from that one because I don’t want to risk getting her in trouble, so here’s three more which all now involve knocking out the guards. Which isn’t hard, my six-year-old can do it.” You skip forward to face him as you walk back.

“We can walk into all the doors,” you continue. “Risk falling into a trap and maybe dying. Three, we can take the route I used last year and burn all the doors down with one of my techniques, which will leave the one we want. Or four, since you say you can sense your brothers, we can just use you to guide us to the right door. It’d be less messy.”

“Yes.” Choso nods. “I thought about that one too, so we can use me,” he says. “If that doesn’t work then we can use your technique.”

You smile. “Great, that sounds like a plan. Now we have to figure out when. Shoko says that things are still pretty roused up at the school,” you pause and turn to face the last stretch before you reach the exit doors. “I don’t think things will change any time soon, so,” you exhale. “Maybe we can go sometime next week. That sound good?” You ask and turn your head to make sure it’s okay.

Luckily Choso was already looking at you so you quickly find each other's gaze.

“Yes, that sounds good,” he agrees, making you smile proudly and pat his shoulder.

“Great.” You exclaim and avert your gaze to avoid looking into his eyes again.

You actually get ahead of him to exit the building and choose to immediately look up at the night sky the moment you’re outside.

“Look at that,” you muse out loud as you find joy in the rare star-littered sky casted over the city. “There’s stars out now that the city lights aren’t polluting the sky. Hm.” You hum and smile with admiration. “Nothing beats seeing the stars on a boat in the middle of the ocean. It looks like you’re lost in the stars.” You ramble and look down.

However, that was a mistake because Choso is already looking at you with a deep intensity that makes it hard for you to pull your eyes away.

You almost don’t find the strength to, you want to get lost in his eyes that seem to glimmer softly thanks to the moon's gentle hue, but you do look away and hide your flustered face.

“So,” you roll out and change the subject. “How are things with Itadori? Do you talk when you’re out hunting curses?”

“Not really,” Choso answers right away, sounding disappointed. “He’s stuck in a trance when he’s killing curses.”

You slowly look back at Choso and frown with pity. “It’s just all his emotions,” you inform him. “He’s trying to numb away the pain as he’s fighting.”

Choso nods. “It seems so…could you talk to him?” He asks, catching you by surprise. “I’m afraid I can’t offer the advice he needs to hear. Maybe you can?”

“Me?” You point at yourself.

“Yes. You’re a mother, you have students too. And you share a common loss,” he says. “Maybe you can talk to him.”

You hold his gaze for a second before you avert your eyes and think for a minute.

You don’t want to say the wrong thing to Itadori. He’s not your students or your kids, and his way of thinking is different.

But Choso is right too, you do share a common loss, and you’ve lost other people too, you can talk to him about grief. Besides, you’ve been living with him, he hardly eats, and when he’s out in the living room he’s spaced out most of the time. He’s in pain and you can say you know what he’s feeling. Plus, Choso has done so much for you. He’s so nice. And even if you don’t want to encourage your relationship to drift in a different direction, you can still help him this way and it won’t change a thing.

“All right,” you assure Choso. “I’ll talk to him. I think I have an idea. We can do it tomorrow night.”

Choso draws out a deep breath and you feel his stare on you. “Thank you,” he says softly.

You avert your gaze and nod. “No problem, Choso.”

His gaze lingers for a while longer. And when he finally looks away you look at him as if you’re addicted to him.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Okay, how do you say this?

Hey, come outside with me?

No, it sounds weird…so maybe “can we talk?”

Sounds a bit too serious and you don’t want to make Itadori nervous.

Hm…

You tap your chopstick on the plate and think for a moment that’s cut short.

“You okay?” Itadori breaks his silence which ends up surprising you; he hardly says a thing besides his manners.

“Oh,” you gasp softly and flicker your eyes to Choso. He looks at you and without saying a thing you speechlessly say “here I go,” and slide your eyes back to the pink-haired boy, noticing his gaze snap from Choso and you as if finding something off between the two of you.

“Itadori,” you start off by saying and put your utensils down to just throw something out. “When we’re done with dinner could you meet me outside? I want to show you something that might help.”

Itadori’s eyebrows knit together in confusion but he doesn’t probe, he nods in agreement. “Yeah, all right.”

You smile softly. “Good, and bring something that reminds you of Nanami.”

“Huh?”

You lean over. “You’ll see when we get down there...” You trail off and turn to Choso. “You too Choso, bring something that reminds you of your brothers. We can all do this.”

“Bring what?” Choso asks for him and Itadori since they both have the same question.

You shrug. “Something you see that reminds you of the people you lost. It doesn’t have to be big, it can be a picture, something small like a button, just something you look at and makes you think of them. We’ll burn it.” You let them know.

Choso averts his gaze and thinks, whilst Itadori just eats his food in silence and with sorrow.

You can’t say you have anything to offer at the moment, you do want to save it all for later, so you let the silence linger while you all eat.

Nevertheless, Choso has other plans.

“Yuji,” he catches Itadori and you off guard by speaking up. But then again you shouldn't be, he's been trying to make small talk with Itadori for so long. “Do you know, y/n has a caretaker.”

“Hey!” You exclaim and snap your eyes at him to look at him with betrayal. How come he’s picking on you? It’s so out of left field!

Then again he doesn’t talk much and you're still getting to know who’s turning out to be, so everything will probably come out surprising. Which is not a bad thing, you kind of like that he dared himself to pick on you on such a forgetful aspect of your life. It means he was listening when you talked.

“That’s not true,” you make it known.

Itadori eyes widen and he looks at you shocked as if he hasn’t gone to your house before.

“My daughter has a caretaker,” you spat and point your utensil at Choso. “I stopped having a caretaker since I was 11.”

“You had a babysitter?” Itadori asks teasingly.

You nod. “There were three,” you say and lift three fingers. “My family are the Gojo’s so my parents didn’t have time to take care of me. Belinda was my every day, one was for teaching, and the third was for…well, I don’t remember anymore, but there were three.”

“That can’t be right,” Itadori doubts you.

You chuckle. “It’s right. And if Choso had lived 150 years ago he would’ve had them too,” you taunt him right back. “You would've had your ass wiped, man. You would’ve been pampered like you’re some god because of your inherited technique.”

Choso rolls his eyes. “I would’ve hated it,” he grumbles. “And him even more.”

“Yeah sure,” you scoff. “You would’ve been clan leader eventually and matched with some pretty sorcerer woman to continue your line.”

Itadori slams his hands on the table and leans over the table to be closer to you. “Wait, that's real? Do people actually get matched together like in the movies?”

You prop your elbow on the table to rest your chin on your hand and respond. “Yeah. That’s how the big families guarantee that their family line continues to be strong. For example, the Zen’in’s wanted me to marry their son, Naoya Zen’in, but,” you huff. “My brother wouldn't allow it, and my father never agreed to it either. That’s one of the good things he did for me. If not, right now I’d be some forgotten concubine in the Zen’in clan.”

“Really?” Itadori inquiries.

You nod lazily. “Yeah. Truth is, I probably would’ve just…you know,” you chuckle coldly. “Killed myself or something if that happened though.”

“Tsk,” Choso complains about your joke.

“Naoya is the worst,” you back up your joke. “He’s an arrogant, misogynist, spoiled brat who only values himself.”

“Jeez,” Itadori whispers.

“Happens though,” you murmur and sit up. “Takes a lot of sacrifice being part of a family like that. Then again when you’re used to it it’s normal. I escaped it though so I’m good.” You smile and look at him to ask him a question you already knew but one Choso doesn’t. “What about you? You said your grandfather raised you, how was that?”

Itadori shrugs. “It was good. He was good, not like your family.”

You laugh softly.

“There was always food on the table and clothes on my back. He was a good guy,” he says.

You glance at Choso and point your eyes at Itadori, encouraging him to dive deeper so he can get to know him better.

“And,” Choso brings up slowly as he understands what you want from him. “Your grandfather…where is he?” He asks and drifts his gaze away from you to give his attention to his brother.

“Oh,” Itadori answers as he scoops up some food. “He passed not long ago. It’s just me now.”

“Oh.” Choso lets out with a hardened expression slowly painting on his face.

“You have all of us,” you quickly assure him. “And your friends. Choso. You’re not alone.”

Itadori plays with his food and mutters at his plate with a deep-set frown on his face. “But I don’t, not anymore.”

You swallow back thickly and don’t try to argue, he won’t listen, it’ll just go in one ear and out the other, so you’ll wait for the Pyre.

However, you do let him know something. “Itadori, after this whole ordeal is done, you’re always welcome in the community. If you don’t change your mind about being alone that is. Choso and his brothers are going to get settled there, you can go too.”

Itadori's eyes slowly drift to you and he looks at you with a perplexed look. “But—”

“You’ll have something to do,” you cut him off and assure him even though you know that’s not what he was going to ask. “We always need a helping hand.”

Itadori drops his gaze and nods stiffly. “All right,” he says in an unconvincing way. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you redirect and keep your eyes on him as he plays with his food. “Now,” you slowly continue filling the silence as you sit back to face both guys better. “I need to tell you both the story of when I fell off my horse—”

Nevertheless, before you can finish, the sound of your phone ringing cuts you off. And when you check who’s calling, it’s none other than your little girl.

“I’ll meet you guys outside,” you excuse yourself as you get up with your plate. “I have to take this call.”

On your way to the kitchen, you answer your phone and right away there’s a chipper voice. “Mommy!”

“Satori?” You greet cautiously considering it’s late in Italy compared to here. “Hello. What’s up with this wonderful surprise? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Uh,” she hums through the phone for a long while.

“Satori Geto,” you scold her and hold your phone with your shoulder to wash your dish. “It’s 2 am over there. What’s wrong?”

“Mom,” she speaks cautiously out of fear she’d get in trouble. “Mommy, I had a dream.”

“A bad dream?” You immediately try to find a solution.

“Hm, no,” she rolls out, making you sigh as you close the faucet and walk over to your room—“It was a good dream,” she whispers and yawns. “About Daddy, Nana, and Mimi! We were at the park!”

Your breath hitches and your annoyance vanishes. “Oh…what did you do in the park?”

Satori hums and when she answers she speaks with glee. “Daddy was pushing me in the swing, and my sisters were sitting beside me.”

Your eyes water and your heart breaks a little.

She still has yet to know about the twins' death. You just haven’t been able to build the strength to share it through the phone, you want to be with her when you tell her to comfort her. You don’t want to be miles away and have to hear her cry through a phone.

“You know what they say,” you hide your sadness. “Daddy came to visit. You tell him hi for me?”

“Of course,” she exclaims. “Always.”

You pull your phone away to hide a shaky breath.

“Mommy, when am I going back home? I miss you,” her voice quivers.

You press your phone back to your ear and coo. “I miss you too baby and I’m sorry but I don’t know yet.”

Satori groans. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?” She asks desperately. “Me and Tiger can help. And Uncle Satoru said "I'm a big help”, I want to help him out of prison.”

You giggle and she whines. “Don’t laugh.”

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry,” you quickly counter. “I know you’re a big help, so you know how you can help him? By making him a welcome home present. Maybe knit him a scarf,” you suggest. “You said you’re learning. Or you know, continue to look for a cute souvenir that reminds you of him. He’ll need some cheering up when he’s out and that will put a smile on his face.”

Satori groans dramatically. “Fine,” she grumbles. “But you work hard to get him out okay? Or else he’ll miss his birthday.”

You grin and assure her. “I will make sure he’s out before then. But as of now, you need to go to sleep. We’ll call in the morning like always, all right? I love you, my girl, to the moon and never back.”

Satori yawns. “I love you too mama. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams to you too Chipmunk,” you whisper and stay on the phone until she hangs up.

Rather than going out to meet with the others, you continue sitting down for a moment as you feel nothing but guilt having to be away from your daughter for who knows how long.

She deserves so much more, you promised to give her more, but look at you now. Hiding her away from curse users with attachment issues, and hiding the fact that her older sisters are dead.

How terrible is that? How terrible are you?

You let out a deep frustrated breath as you wipe your eyes before you stand up and swipe a picture off the drawer to walk out and meet the guys in the courtyard of the apartment complex.

“Sorry,” you interject when they notice you approaching. “It took longer than expected.”

“It’s all right,” Choso quickly assures you. “Take the time you need. She’s your daughter.”

You flash him a sweet and thankful smile, making him blink repeatedly as if in shock before he offers you a very faint timid smile.

Itadori catches the interaction but thinks nothing of it until he notices Choso intently follow your figure with his eyes until you reach the small pyre in the middle. Now he might not be the smartest guy when it comes to these things, but he knows pining when he sees it. (Or when it’s obvious). And he sees that now so he can’t help but snicker to himself under his breath.

“All right,” you interject loudly and snap a spark of fire to the wood to light the small pyre with just your hands. “Tonight we’re going to do a funeral practice a sorcerer tribe from the Arctic taught Aoi, Yuki, and me a few years back.”

You step back and pull out a picture of Nanami, the twins, and you from your pocket.

“We will welcome them back to our lives by burning what reminds us of them instead of saying goodbye forever,” you speak softly and continue to admire the picture Nanami didn't want to take, but did anyway because you insisted.

“Why?” Itadori mutters.

You let out a deep breath and walk back to fall by his side. “The people of the tribe believed that the ash and the sparks from the items that float to the sky form a path to welcome our loved ones back into our lives,” you share and look at Itadori, seeing his bottom lip tremble as he crumbles a movie ticket in his hand.

“I don’t deserve it,” he confesses in a shaky voice. “I don’t. He’s dead because of me, and Kugisaki…” he trails off and plops himself on the ground to hide his face in his hands.

You steal a glance from Choso and notice his desperation to have his brother feel better, so you don’t protest against what he asked of you yesterday and sit down next to Itadori.

Instead of breaking the silence though you linger in it and watch the fire eat away at the wood logs. When the wood crackles and gives off sparks you quietly speak up.

“As you know Nanami and I had another best friend when we were in school…we were just like you and your group of friends, inseparable and always supporting each other in dark times that hunting curses brings. He was…” you smile to yourself as you recall Haibara. “Like you, a charming smile, and a way to see the good out of bad situations. He was the best of us and only wanted to be a sorcerer because he had the power to help others.”

Tears well in the corner of your eyes, but you don’t let them fall, you smile softly instead until Itadori brings up a question.

“What happened to him? Nanami never talked about him, and you never go into too much detail.”

You let out a deep sigh and bend the corner of the picture paper as you recall his tragic end. “It was supposed to be an easy mission,” you start off collected. “One we should’ve easily managed, but it turns out that they were wrong…the curse outclassed us, and at that point, my technique was heavy to use, I…I struggled for a while. We weren’t prepared for the curse, but it caught us off guard, it managed to separate us…” you falter as you grow upset and debate going on.

But you have to, Itadori needs to listen to the point you want to make.

“When I finally escaped and reached Haibara it was too late,” you fight to finish the story while you drop your eyes to your manicured nails Kirara helped you do—“I still hopelessly held onto hope as I cradled him in my arms, but he had died the moment I stepped out to help him.” You sniffle and hear Itadori’s feet shift against the ground.

“Now they’re both gone,” you murmur and look out at the pyre.

“I,” he stammers. “I'm sorry. I’m sorry you had to lose another friend because of me.” He cries.

You scoff and argue against him. “It’s not your fault, Itadori, Nanami would’ve fought you to get you to understand that, and I will too if need be.”

Itadori turns his head to look at you and is caught off guard by the sweet smile that grows on your lips.

“We never really lose the ones we love,” you retell a piece of wholehearted advice Haibara told you. Now it’s not word for word of what he said but that's not the point. “Right now It’s going to be the worst days of our lives, I mean you’ve been living them, but it’s not the end. Even if it feels like we’re drowning, it’s not the end. The people we love will be with us eternally as long we keep fighting to live and keep our hearts. Even if it’s battered and a weeping mess and you want to give up on it, we have to fight to live, when we give up is when we lose it all.”

You reach over and take Itadori’s hand. He looks over at you with his cheeks pampered with tears.

“Keep fighting Yuji Itadori and keep your heart. It’s a precious thing.”

More thick tears stream down the curve of his cheeks and this time you don’t hesitate to lean over and embrace him tightly.

“Grieving is a precious thing too, it means we’re fighting. So cry, get angry but never lose your heart.”

Itadori’s arms are stiff when they’re on you, but as you continue to hold him tightly against you, he eases into the embrace and lets himself cry quietly.

It’s not for long, he doesn’t take long to pull away either, but he lets himself grieve. That’s what you wanted, and that’s what Choso wanted too.

“Now,” you continue on. “Let’s burn our stuff. So we can get inside, it’s getting fucking cold,” you exclaim and run over to the pyre as you hold yourself to shield your body from the nipping breeze.

“Thank you,” a whisper gets carried to your ear. And when you look over you see Choso with a softened expression on his features.

“Of course,” you assure him and place your hand on his shoulder to give it a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

He breathes in at the interaction, and you make the mistake of holding his gaze with a soft look, making your desire drive your eyes to his lips and fill you with the need to close the gap. But you take back control and let his shoulder go to face the dancing flames and fall back to the grieving moment to start the ritual.

One which you all participate in; even Choso who burns a paper with his brother's names on it because he said he had nothing else. Which makes you even sadder.

Itadori burns a movie ticket for Nanami and holds onto hope for Kugisaki. All while you burn a picture of the twins, you and Nanami together. You don’t have the heart to burn anything else.

You barely have the heart to do this, it still hurts too much, but you can’t push it away. You can’t go back to denying the truth, you need to let go and accept their deaths once and for all.

After all, they’re together now, aren't they? Suguru and the twins?

And Nanami can finally know peace. It’s all he wanted.

So it is okay, it’s going to be okay and eventually your agony will dull.

You keep telling yourself that as you stand in the calming silence and watch your items burn turn to ash and sparks that float up to the dark sky.

Eventually, the flames begin to die out and your mind falls silent. It’s all so quiet. And when the last spark dies out, the silence is deafening, but it’s peaceful, so you choose to bring some light to the dark space as everyone remains here.

“I need to confess something. Nanami would’ve wanted me to,” you whisper and scratch the back of your head to pretend to be serious. “I used to be…addicted to soap.”

“Hm?” Itadori immediately probes

“But,” you continue and let a smile start tugging on your lips. “I’m clean now.”

You look at the guys at your sides and see them both looking at you with questioning looks while you snort and break into a chuckle.

“Oh, I see,” Choso whispers and scoffs softly before his lips break on a smile that then leads to a rumbling chuckle.

You don’t know if he truly got it, but you don’t question him, you laugh harder along with him while your heart does flips out of pure joy that you got to finally make him laugh.

Now all that is left is Itadori.

And much to your surprise, he begins to snicker before he lets himself get lost in the moment too. Either out of genuine humor, or the high of the moment, but he laughs. And after a while, you all seem to forget why you’re laughing, you just get drunk in the moment.

Up to the point, your phone ringing interrupts the moment.

“Ah,” you gasp for air as you calm down. “I’m going to take this.”

You walk off and when you check who’s calling you smile and quickly answer. “Master!”

“Gojo, how are you doing?” She greets you.

You shrug. “I’m…good.” You share slowly. “You tired of hiding yet?”

Yuki groans. “Yes, but I suppose studying Maki Zen’in makes up for it.”

You hum and come to a stop by the back door. “So,” you press, knowing this isn’t just a simple call to catch up. “What’s up?”

Silence comes through for a moment before she sighs and answers with a lighthearted tone. “I have some good news.”

You gasp dramatically. “You killed Noritoshi Kamo and I can go back home with my daughter and brother?” You sass her.

Yuki chuckles. “Not exactly. Are you alone?”

You peer back and see that the guys are keeping their distance, but you still walk inside to talk nonetheless. “I am now…what’s wrong Yuki?”

Said woman lets out a deep breath and at that moment you have a feeling it isn’t anything good.

“We’ve come up with a plan that involves you working with…Yuta Okkotsu…”

Her words drown out and you feel your heart pang at the simple utter of his name.

“Okkotsu?” You cut her off coldly. “The man who killed my husband? You want me to work with him.”

“He didn’t kill Geto,” Yuki argues in his defense. “Your brother did. You know that.”

You shake your head. “Perhaps, but Satoru had to after Okkotsu wounded Suguru to the point of no return. He’s the reason why Suguru is dead, Yuki. He’s the reason why…” you trail off and huff out angrily. “I won’t work with him.”

“Y/N,” Yuki presses harshly. “Stop being a selfish brat. This goes beyond you and your grudge. This can lead to a way to help Yuji Itadori and Satoru Gojo. Do you understand? This isn’t about you. This is about our society, our livelihood. The lives of the students you love, of the child you have, and the family you cherish. I know it isn’t something you want, but it’s something you have to do.”

She’s…right. Even if it hurts to admit, she’s completely right.

“What do you have in mind?” You grumble and basically hear her smile.

“Thatta girl. Well,” she sighs. “It’s a secret mission to kill Yuji Itadori.”

Your face falls and you quickly spat back. “You’re insane. Being stuck in one place has made you insane. I’m not—I made a promise that I don’t intend to break. He’s a kid too who deserves—”

“Okkotsu won’t really kill him,” she cuts you off. “He’ll bring him close to death and revive him at that exact moment. It’s an easy and quick mission and all I need from you is you to lead Itadori to the trap.”

You shake your head and pull out a cigarette to slide it in between your lips. “Yeah, remember the brother I told you about? He doesn’t leave his side, and the only time he does is when he’s with me—”

“Doing what?” Yuki teases, making you scrunch your nose in disgust at her behavior.

“When we're talking, when we’re hanging out,” you explain yourself, but she laughs nonetheless.

“Ah, I see. I do. And it’s okay. It’s been too long for you, you’re drying—”

“I’ll burn you,” you blurt with annoyance. “Shut up. It’s…hm. We’re friends, so focus. How do I get rid of the brother?”

Yuki hums. “You don’t have to, Okkotsu can handle him as long as you let him. All that needs to happen is you leading him to the right spot to let Okkotsu work.”

You give your back to the door and light the cigarette in between your lips. “They’ll expect me to fight with them, I can’t just let them think that I’m betraying them,” you bring up and draw in a puff.

“That’s where Miguel comes in,” Yuki says, making you feign a laugh and shake your head.

“I’m not talking to Miguel,” you sneer. “He lied to me. They both did. For months they kept Noritoshi a secret. And it’s not that I'm angry about that, I’m angry because they didn’t tell me. They didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“Y/n,” Yuki sighs. “You know that’s not it.”

You drag in a deep puff and let all the smoke come out first before you comment on the matter. “It doesn’t matter. They still didn’t tell me. They thought they were doing the right thing but ended up making the wrong choice.”

“Well,” Yuki mutters. “Suck it up. He’ll pull you away and you’ll follow him alone. Can your boys let that happen?”

You hesitate to answer even if the answer is obvious. “Yes,” you whisper and drop your head. “So when does it all go down?”

“The ninth,” she reveals. “Just live a normal day, don’t bring up any suspicion. And in the evening when it’s time, Okkotsu or Miguel will text you.”

You scratch your forehead with your cigarette in between your manicured fingers and sigh with frustration. “All right, but I better be closer to getting my brother back after this.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan too,” she assures you. “I promise we’ll get him out.”

You nod and stick the cigarette back in between your lips. “All right, master, I understand what needs to be done.”

Yuki hums gleefully. “Good girl. I swear it’ll all be worth it okay?”

“Mh-hm.”

“Don’t try to kill Okkotsu, okay? Chin up, and tough it out like I taught you.”

You muster a soft smile and nod. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Put that damn cigarette out,” she scolds you without even needing to see you committing the act.

“Eh,” you groan.

“Goodnight, I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says.

“Goodbye, and I’ll look forward to it,” you redirect.

Yuki scoffs softly. “You better.”

You share a soft laugh and proceed to hang up the phone first. Once you’re surrounded by the silence of the hall you avoid looking out the door and grumble to yourself out of frustration, “damn it.”

——

*A COUPLE DAYS LATER*

“Okay now it’s your turn, I can’t be the only one talking,” you tell Choso as you stop in the vegetable section to look at some cabbages. “The question doesn’t have to be too thought out. Something…” you trail off and peer back. “Simple.”

You return your gaze to the cabbages and pick up one to study its quality. Once you’re sure it’s good, you bag the cabbage and turn to place it in the cart, noticing that Choso is still thinking hard. But rather than filling the silence while his head tries to come up with something, you grab the edge of the cart and continue forward until you remember something and turn around sharply.

“Sorry I need something from the front before I forget it,” you throw out hurryingly.

Choso doesn’t complain and continues to push the cart as he continues on thinking as if it’s some damn test.

“Just say a question man,” you hurry him up.

However, you reach the aisles by the checkout stations and he still doesn’t think of something.

“Ahh,” you fawn over what you find. “Momiji Manju!” You show off to Choso excitedly. “The only reason I like the fall is for these. Which is why I’m getting all three flavors.” You throw multiple packages in the cart and Choso finally interjects.

“I have one…”

“About time,” you mumble and grab the cart to guide him away.

“Uh…what’s your favorite color?” He asks.

You look at him with an excited smile and compliment his simple question. “That’s a good one. And mine will have to be brown,” you reveal and look at the target you’re driving him to. “But like a rich brown. The kind of brown when it’s hit by the sun. That brown. It's like it’s holding the sun,” you muse and look back at him with a soft smile.

Choso hums, and you point your chin at him. “What about you?” You redirect.

Choso shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t have one.”

You laugh softly. “Just say the first one that comes to mind. I know you have one.”

Choso averts his gaze and sighs deeply before he parts his lips and blurts. “Red.”

You hum and walk back to be at his side. “You know,” you add smugly. “That you can tell a lot about someone by their favorite color?”

Choso’s eyebrows furrow slightly.

“Red,” you continue. “It means that you’re passionate, fierce, impulsive, and powerful. Which,” you point at him. “All fits with you.”

Choso’s cheeks grow red and his chest rises as he holds your gaze.

“And brown,” you add. “Well, I can’t say because it’d be biased.” You chuckle and snap your attention to the sunglasses rack to skip over there and take two to put one on you, and then return to Choso.

“Look at me,” you order, and he listens right away, letting you easily slide on the sunglasses over his eyes. “Wow,” you beam. “Look at us. I think this deserves a picture.”

You pull your phone out and quickly press the camera app before you throw your arm around his shoulders and press your cheek against his to snap a picture of him and you.

After you take a couple you check on them and press on the one you like the most.

“Cute,” you show off with a happy smile.

The corner of Choso’s lips tug to a faint smile but you don’t linger on his sweet gesture because your heart is already over the moon and you’ve been doing a terrible job to discourage your heart and mind from swooning any further.

“Hey, uh,” you bring up nervously and turn the cart to head back to the aisles. “What did Itadori want again?”

Paper crinkles before Choso answers. “Chips, and instant noodles.”

You hum, “well we’ll get his noodles right now and his chips when we’re on our way to pay. Do you want anything? I’ve noticed you like snacking on peanuts, we can get them.”

“Uh…no,” he says bashfully. “It’s all right.”

You slow down as you roll in an aisle and pick up some chicken. “How about meatballs tonight, hm?” You ask.

“Yeah sure,” he answers nonchalantly so you get discouraged and put the chicken back to instead continue moving forward, leaving Choso puzzled.

“I don’t understand,” he mutters.

“Yeah sure,” you mock him. “It’s okay if you don’t want some. We can make something else,” you argue and he’s only more confused.

“I said yes,” he counters.

“But not with much enthusiasm, it’s like when you ask me if I want to play chess,” you bring up. “And I say “I suppose,” so you double check with me until I say “yes”. Do you understand now?”

Choso sighs and nods. “Yes.”

“We can make something else, sushi maybe, or rice balls, stir fry?” You suggest.

“Meatballs are fine,” he says, making you peer back to tease him.

“How hard was that?”

Choso draws out a deep breath and groans quietly, making you snicker.

Alas, your amusement falls when your phone buzzes and you see Miguel sent you a message.

Miguel: Be out by 6. I’ll send a general location, and the street I’ll be on so we can go off and talk.

A frown forms on your lips and no matter how much you want to deny him or leave him on seen you answer, dryly.

You: ok

“Are you…all right?” Choso catches you off guard.

You put your phone away and look at him with a feigned assuring smile. “Yeah, just messages from people at home. That’s all.” You lie, and he studies your face hard, but ultimately catches nothing so he doesn’t probe.

“We can go out hunting for curses before dinner, that way we have more of an appetite,” you try to make an excuse for your plan.

“Yes that’s fine, I don’t mind,” he falls for it with ease, which makes you feel bad because you can’t tell him what’s going on even if as if late you’ve found that you don’t hide much from him, and he doesn’t have anything to hide so he’s always honest with you. And how are you repaying that now?

By not being honest about this.

And you know it’s not some big important secret that will make anyone upset, but you still feel bad that he’s out of the loop over plans centered around his own brother.

“Itadori and Noritoshi mentioned you’re popular,” Choso brings up hesitantly. “Are you sure you won’t be spotted by your family?”

You shake your head with a small smile painted on your features and ignore how your heart just gushed by his concern. “Nah, we’ll be out of the store and on our way home if they do see anything anyway…what else did Noritoshi say about me?” You can’t help but query.

Choso stays quiet for a moment before he shares with rising anger detectable in his usual nonchalant tone. “He didn’t share much. My theory is that he did that on purpose so we could believe his role as your husband Suguru Geto.”

You drop your head and confess above a whisper. “Yeah, and his mistake was that Suguru would never bring up the idea to hurt me.”

“Well he was surrounded by the disaster curses that only knew the things that would come out of his mouth,” he grumbles. “He manipulated all of us.”

You glance over at him and see that he has his fists clenched and his face scrunched with anger.

“Fathers really are the worst,” you try to comfort him by relating to him whilst you take the sunglasses off and fiddle with them.

“Yes…they are,” Choso quietly agrees, causing you to lift your head to look at him.

And the moment your eyes land on him and you see him still wearing the sunglasses, you can’t help but grin at him as you find him adorable and hot.

Choso doesn’t notice your obvious admiring stare and the only reason you expose yourself is by grabbing his wrist. “Cho,” you pull his attention to you so you can capture a picture of him.

“Look at that you’re photogenic,” you point out and show him the off-guard photo that makes him blush and look away.

You smirk even if you shouldn’t be so proud and giddy. “Just a couple more things and we can head out,” you let him know.

Nevertheless, after doing what you said, the moment you get back to the apartment complex you both come to an empty house and a note in the kitchen left by Itadori

“You guys took too long. I headed out to hunt curses. -Yuji.”

Damn, damn.

“We could get start dinner—”

“No,” you cut Choso off and rush towards your room to change into better shoes since that’s all the time you have to spare, you keep on your light long-sleeved two-piece set—“Let’s go find him first.”

He better not be far or else this could end up ruining the damn plan.

You to Miguel: Sudden change of plans, heading out now, I’ll send my location soon. Be on standby.

Once you’re outside you depend on Choso to use his technique to lead you to Itadori without trying to be too pushy or suspicious.

However, perhaps you aren’t good at masking your emotions, or Choso got good at reading you after living with you in a small apartment for 9 days. “Is everything alright?” He asks.

You turn your phone off after sending Miguel your location and nod eagerly. “Yeah, yeah. Why the concern?” You ask with a narrowed and questioning gaze.

Choso’s eyes study your gaze before he responds. “Every time you check your mobile device you seem to grow upset.”

His attention to detail catches you off guard, and it makes you want to share the plan with him, but it’s so close to being over so you tough it out.

“Just my family trying to talk to me,” you share a partial truth. “I still don’t feel like talking to them, but they’re pushy, and it’s pissing me off. That’s all.”

Choso holds your gaze and nods with hesitation. “Oh…okay.”

You hum and quickly focus your attention ahead. “We’re coming close to a tunnel. Is he close?”

“Yes, very close,” he says and picks up his pace to turn the corner and walk down to the tunnel, letting you pull your phone back out to update Miguel.

You: Approaching the tunnel.

You hit send as you turn the corner, and keep your attention on the phone to wait for a reply.

Miguel: I’m on my way. Be there in five.

You sigh deeply and put your phone away to refocus on the matter ahead, seeing now that there’s large monster-like curses in the tunnel and Itadori is getting chased by them.

“Choso!” Itadori yells out.

You run over and get ready to help, but just as you lift a finger Choso claps his hands together and mutters a cursed technique. “piercing blood.”

In the blink of an eye, blood shoots out of Choso’s hands, and impales multiple curses right through the head, managing to exorcize all but one with ease.

So with the desire to help, you break into a sprint. And just as you’re about to reach Choso’s side you slide forward as you summon wind.

“Lashing wind,” you mutter your technique maliciously and lash a gust of wind out towards a red four-legged curse that exorcizes them.

“Yuji,” Choso calls out.

However, before he can finish what he wanted to say a curse with wings catches you all off guard.

Alas, just as Choso and you get ready to fight it, Itadori sprints over at an impressive speed and rams his fist through the curse, sending it back against a cement wall and spilling blood with his punch alone. He doesn’t even need to swing another time, the curse dies and turns to nothing but smoke, leaving you impressed. Even after seeing him do the same moves for the past 9 days.

“As impressive as ever little brother,” Choso interjects as he walks over to him.

“Are you still calling me that?” Itadori counters.

You walk towards them slowly as you wait for Miguel to show up.

“I’ll keep calling you that, over and over,” Choso tells him seriously. “Try to recollect, after all, your father had stitches on his forehead didn’t he?”

Before Itadori can answer, your name is called out, “Y/N!”

You look back with dread and meet Miguel’s gaze just a few feet away.

“Damn,” you mumble and look at Choso and Itadori while you start walking towards Miguel. “I’ll be right back, all right?”

Choso steps forward and looks at you with a hardened concerned look. “Do you want us to come with you?”

You shake your head. “No, I’ll catch up with you two. I won’t take long.”

Choso seems hesitant and cautious as he glances over at Miguel, but he doesn’t argue.

“All right,” he mutters. “If you need help, let us know.”

You can’t help but smile faintly. “I will,” you assure him. “But I’ll be okay. He’s family.”

You face Miguel as you get closer to him, but feel the need to look back so you do so and catch Itadori and Choso watching you retreat.

Which makes you feel bad for what’s about to happen, but it’s for the greater good, so you suck it up and follow the plan.

“Okkotsu?” You ask Miguel when you’re by his side.

“He’ll be here,” he says. “He’s close by.”

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Choso and Mc try not to make it obvious that you guys are pining over each other challenge—IMPOSSIBLE—Also Naoya interaction next chapter 🤔

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest

[whatever-color-of-the-rainbow]

returning the favor with the watt ask game i would like to hear your answers to ALL THE QUESTIONS!!! - beheadedcousins

THANKS KING

1) Favorite song?

Don’t Even.

2) Can you recite Time Out by heart?

I used to be able to, but I haven’t listened to it in a while 😭 I really need to get on that

3) Favorite line in the show?

“If God killed high schoolers for having sex, there would be no high schoolers!” or “Hi everyone…I’m Kate! Those candles are the dead ones, AND THE FRESHMAN’S IN PRISON 😆🥳”

4) If you could save either Chess, Farrah, or Clark, who would you save?

I DON’T KNOW! Like, Chess is my favorite of the three. But then Farrah was taking the first step to getting better and no one ever knew. Also, saving Farrah would be a two-in-one deal with her and Clark because Farrah’s death directly leads to Clark’s. If Reese doesn’t find a dead Farrah, they don’t start freaking out, Clark doesn’t come running, Reese doesn’t kill him. So I feel like Farrah is the most logical answer. And also I adore Farrah. But on the other hand…Chess my beloved 🥺🥺

5) Favorite character?

KATE!!!

6) Least favorite song? (And you can’t say Time Out, that’s cheating)

I love The Breakdown, and I wouldn’t call it a least favorite. But I don’t listen to it as much because honestly, it doesn’t hit as hard as a standalone song as it does within the rest of the show- I need to see Riley slowly losing her mind for it to have the full effect. So let’s go with that one.

7) Finish the lyric (insert any lyric of your choice)

Sit back with a slouch in my spine, quick laugh at a cliché line like…

We’re gonna have a great year! 😁📣

CUE! I don’t wanna stay here ☹️

8) Which part do you usually sing in Finale?

Kate’s.

9) Least favorite character?

Riley. She’s such an interesting character and I want to love her, but I really just can’t get past the whole murder thing. Especially since she tried to kill my favorite character and actually killed two of my other favorites.

10) Would you rather get free tickets to WATT or (insert any other show of your choice)?

WATT or Newsies. I would choose WATT because I’ve already seen three high school productions of Newsies.

11) Before you found out that it was Riley, who did you think the murderer was?

I thought it would be Cairo because she was the one whose idea it was to frame Mattie. But I did take note of the fact that Riley was the only one whose name never got brought up.

12) Favorite WATT ship?

KATEVA!!! Also Chai has been growing on me big time since the last Chai Day for some reason and I choose to believe that they’re endgame in any “no one dies” AU.

13) Which character would you want to play if you got to be in the show?

Kate is one of my biggest dream roles ever. I have so many ideas for how I would play Kate.

14) Have you made anyone else watch the boot with you?

Not yet. I will eventually, though.

15) If you could swap Farrah’s life for someone else’s, who would you kill?

Listen, we’ve seen Annleigh’s reaction to Farrah dying. I wanna see how Farrah would handle it if Annleigh died. Would it be a motivation for her to get sober in honor of her sister? Or would the grief and depression send her further down the spiral?

16) If you could swap Clark’s life for someone else’s, who would you kill?

Riley. Maybe Reese hears Farrah scream sooner and comes in the bathroom in time to see Riley about to stab her, and whacks her in the head with the shower head.

17) If you could swap Chess’s life for someone else’s, who would you kill?

On the flip side of the Reese-making-it-to-the-bathroom-in-time-to-see-Riley thing, what if Reese doesn’t hit Riley fast enough and she turns around and stabs them (kinda like she did in canon with Kate after The Breakdown)? Or, if we have to kill them both- Reese hits Riley over the head, Riley just manages to stab Reese before collapsing (and Farrah is now traumatized as FUCK).

18) All-time favorite headcanon? (Don’t forget to give credit if it’s someone else’s!)

I have a LOT of headcanons I really like, but I think my favorite one is that the hoodie Kate wears in Act 2 used to belong to Chess- in fact, it had been her favorite hoodie.

19) Who’s part do you sing in Don’t Even?

Kate’s. Every single time.

20) Favorite song lyric?

Top three, in no particular order:

“You don’t know who you are until you hate yourself”

“Breathe, but you’re choking, like there’s something burning up the air”

“So I’ll set some expectations, but I wanna keep them real…so I might need a little time before I heal”

21) Did the shower kill Farrah?

No, it killed Clark. God killed Farrah.

22) Funniest moment in the show?

“I have a cat…it doesn’t mean I like petting it.”

The reason this takes the cake is because I was once watching WATT while petting my cat, and when Annleigh said this line, my cat looked up at me 😭

23) Saddest moment in the show?

There’s a lot, but I have to say during Defense when Annleigh’s sobbing and Kate’s fidgeting with the friendship bracelet.

24) If you don’t already know, what book do you think Kate is reading throughout the first act?

I’m pretty sure it’s The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. But I like thinking about what book I would use if I were playing Kate, and I would probably either use Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson or Solitaire by Alice Oseman. I feel like Kate would like both of those.

25) Would you rather be Farrah’s stepsister or Annleigh’s stepsister?

I love them both, but I feel like I’d get along better with Farrah.

26) If you could, would you go to one of Annleigh’s dressage competitions with her?

YES.