#I just love how they move. weird little pulls

[anticipatedexhale]

Happy birthday!!! It's a day to celebrate you!

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, ekko

☆ ◞ summary: they surprise you on your birthday!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, flufffff and also definitely not proofread

Mel Medarda.

Mel Medarda did not do things halfway. When she loved, she loved with intensity. When she planned, she planned meticulously. And when it came to you? Well, she was going to make sure your birthday was something you would never forget.

You had a feeling something was up when, the night before, she had simply kissed your cheek and said, “Wear something nice tomorrow, darling.” That was it. No explanation. No hints. Just a knowing smile before she walked away, leaving you both intrigued and slightly terrified.

And now? You were standing in front of an enormous, private dinner setup on one of Piltover’s highest balconies, the entire city glittering below like a sea of golden stars. A long, lavish table stretched before you, covered in candlelight, rich wines, and an array of gourmet dishes that looked too perfect to eat. Soft music played in the background, and the scent of fresh roses filled the air.

Your mouth fell open slightly. “Mel…”

She was standing beside you, looking as breathtaking as ever in a deep gold dress, her earrings catching the candlelight. She smiled at your reaction, clearly pleased with herself. “Surprised?”

“That’s an understatement,” you breathed, turning to her. “How did you—when did you—?”

She chuckled, looping an arm through yours and guiding you toward the table. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

You shook your head in disbelief as she pulled out your chair for you—because of course she did—before settling in across from you. “Mel, this is… a lot.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Are you saying you don’t like it?”

“No! It’s—” You gestured around wildly. “It’s incredible. I just don’t know how to deserve all this.”

Mel leaned forward, resting her chin delicately against her fingers. “You don’t have to deserve it,” she said softly. “I wanted to do this. Because you deserve to feel celebrated. To feel adored.”

Your chest tightened at her words. She had always been someone who built walls, who calculated every move, but with you? She always let you see the tenderness beneath it all.

A warmth spread through you as you reached across the table, taking her hand in yours. “Thank you, Mel. For everything.”

She smiled, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Happy birthday, my love,” she murmured. “Now, let’s toast—to you.”

She lifted her glass, and as you clinked yours against hers, you realized that, out of everything—the lavish gifts, the extravagant setting—the real gift was this: Mel, choosing to love you in the way only she could.

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

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had never been great at keeping secrets. It wasn’t that he was bad at lying—he just got too excited and always ended up giving himself away. So, when your birthday was coming up, you could tell something was up.

He’d been acting weird all week—disappearing for hours, sending hurried messages to people when he thought you weren’t looking, and worst of all? He sucked at playing it cool.

“What are you up to?” you had asked him the night before, arms crossed as he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to distract you from a set of blueprints on his desk.

“Nothing!” he had said way too quickly, grinning wide enough to make it obvious that he was lying. “Just, uh, some important Council business!”

You didn’t buy it for a second. But instead of prying, you decided to let him have his fun.

Fast forward to today. Your birthday.

The entire morning had gone by suspiciously normally. Jayce hadn’t mentioned a word about it. No casual "Happy birthday!" No cheeky wink. Not even a hint of whatever he had been planning. You were starting to wonder if he’d somehow forgotten—until you walked into his workshop.

The second you stepped inside, BOOM!

Confetti everywhere.

Not just a little—an entire explosion of tiny colored paper pieces rained down on you from above, and in the middle of it all stood Jayce, arms wide open, looking way too proud of himself.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” he shouted, grinning like a kid who just pulled off the best prank ever.

You blinked, completely frozen in shock as confetti slowly drifted onto your hair, your shoulders… everywhere.

Jayce, realizing that maybe confetti cannons were a bit much for an indoor setting, winced. “Uh… okay, maybe that was overkill.”

You stared at him, then at the absolute mess he had just created, and finally burst into laughter.

“Jayce! What the hell?!” you managed between laughs, shaking the confetti out of your hair.

He let out a relieved chuckle, stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. “Okay, so maybe I got a little carried away,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But hey, at least it was memorable, right?”

“Very,” you teased, resting your head against his chest. “But please tell me this isn’t all you planned.”

Jayce gasped dramatically. “Of course not! Who do you think I am?”

With that, he took your hand and led you toward the back of the workshop, where a table was set up with a cake—one that was definitely a little lopsided but obviously homemade. Next to it, a small pile of gifts, and most importantly? A chair with another small confetti cannon.

“Jayce,” you warned, eyeing it.

“Okay, fine, I’ll put it down,” he said with a laugh, setting it aside. “But I do have one more surprise.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box. The moment you opened it, your breath caught—it was a tiny Hextech pendant, glowing faintly, crafted into a delicate design.

“I made it myself,” he said, a little bashful now. “Figured you deserved something special.”

Your heart melted. All the ridiculousness, the over-the-top confetti, the chaotic energy—it was so Jayce. And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You looked up at him, smiling softly. “This is perfect.”

Jayce exhaled, finally relaxing. “Good,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

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

Viktor.

Viktor wasn’t the type for grand gestures. He didn’t do over-the-top surprises or loud celebrations. He preferred the quiet things—the ones that mattered, the ones you’d carry with you long after the day had passed.

That’s why, when your birthday came around, you weren’t expecting much. Not because he didn’t care—far from it. But because Viktor was always lost in his work, constantly chasing ideas, and you didn’t want to burden him with expectations.

So, when the morning passed without so much as a mention of your birthday, you tried not to let the disappointment creep in. Maybe he really had forgotten.

But then, late in the evening, as you walked into his dimly lit workshop, you found something waiting for you on his desk.

A small, neatly wrapped package. And next to it, a stack of papers, the ink still fresh.

Your name was written at the top.

Curious, you picked up the papers, eyes scanning the first few lines. And then your heart stopped.

It was a letter. No—many letters. Pages upon pages, filled with Viktor’s precise handwriting.

You sat down slowly, hands trembling as you began to read.

He wrote about the day he met you. How he hadn’t expected someone like you to step into his life, let alone stay. How, despite the chaos of his mind and the limits of his body, you had never treated him as anything less than whole.

He wrote about the small things. The way you made tea exactly how he liked it, even though you hated the taste. How you always remembered to bring an extra blanket when he fell asleep at his desk. The way you touched him—so gently, as if you saw the pieces of him that no one else did.

He wrote about the nights he spent awake, thinking of you. Wondering how someone like him had managed to deserve someone like you.

And at the very bottom, in slightly messier handwriting, was the last line:

"If I am to leave any mark on this world, let it be the love I have for you."

Tears blurred your vision by the time you finished. You pressed a hand to your mouth, overwhelmed, as you turned to see Viktor standing in the doorway, watching you with quiet apprehension.

“You—” Your voice broke. “You wrote all of this?”

A faint flush touched his cheeks as he shifted his cane, looking away for a moment. “I am not good with spoken words,” he admitted softly. “But I wanted you to know.”

You stood, crossing the room in seconds before wrapping your arms around him. Viktor stiffened slightly, then melted into your embrace, exhaling shakily.

“You didn’t forget,” you murmured against his shoulder.

His hand came up to rest against your back. “Of course not,” he whispered. “How could I?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes still wet. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a small, almost shy smile. “Then I suppose it was worth every word.”

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

Caitlyn.

Caitlyn Kiramman was a woman of precision. Strategy. Planning. She didn’t do things on a whim—every move she made had a purpose. So, when your birthday rolled around, you knew she had something up her sleeve.

But you hadn’t expected this.

“Caitlyn,” you said slowly, staring at the handwritten note she had left on your bedside table. “Is this… a scavenger hunt?”

The paper was neat, her elegant script detailing a simple instruction: "Meet me at the shooting range. Wear something comfortable. Happy birthday, darling."

A grin tugged at your lips. You had no idea what she was up to, but you weren’t about to back down from the challenge.

Clue #1: The Shooting Range

When you arrived, the place was empty—except for Caitlyn, who stood there in her crisp uniform, a knowing smirk on her face.

"Right on time," she said, stepping forward to hand you your next note.

"You really set all this up?" you asked, amused.

She winked. "I am the Sheriff, you know. I have my ways."

You unfolded the paper, laughing when you read it. "Show me what you've got—hit the target three times in a row, and I'll give you your next clue."

“Oh, you know I’m not as good as you,” you groaned, giving her a playful glare.

She merely crossed her arms, looking smug. “Then I guess you won’t be getting your next clue.”

You sighed dramatically before stepping up to take your shots. By some miracle (and maybe a little bit of Caitlyn’s coaching over the years), you managed to land all three.

Caitlyn looked genuinely impressed. “Not bad. I might have some competition.”

You grinned. “Now give me the next clue, Sheriff.”

Clue #2: The Bakery

The next stop led you to a small, tucked-away bakery—one that you and Caitlyn often visited after long days at work. The moment you stepped inside, the owner smiled knowingly and handed you a small, beautifully wrapped box.

Inside? Your favorite pastry, still warm. And another note.

"A little something sweet before your final stop. Meet me at the place where we first realized we were more than just friends."

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew exactly where that was.

Final Stop: The Rooftop

You climbed the familiar fire escape, the city stretching out beneath you. The cool breeze hit your skin as you reached the top, and there she was—waiting for you with a picnic set up, lanterns glowing softly around her.

Caitlyn turned at the sound of your footsteps, her smile softer now, more intimate. “Took you long enough.”

You let out a breathless laugh, taking in the sight. “You really went all out.”

She stepped forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wanted today to be special for you. You deserve that.”

Your chest tightened at the tenderness in her voice. You reached up, taking her hand in yours. “It already is.”

She exhaled, eyes searching yours before leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. When she pulled back, she smirked. “Happy birthday, darling. Now, come on—before the food gets cold.”

And as you sat together, laughing and sharing stories under the stars, you knew that this—her—was the best gift you could have ever asked for.

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

Vi.

Vi never made a big deal about birthdays—especially her own. But when it came to you? She wanted to do something. It didn’t have to be fancy or extravagant, just something that would make you smile.

So when you woke up to an empty bed and a note scrawled in her messy handwriting—"Meet me at our spot. And wear something you can move in."—you had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

The "spot" turned out to be an old, abandoned bridge overlooking Zaun, a place you two often went when you needed to get away. When you arrived, Vi was already waiting, leaning against the railing with her usual cocky smirk.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," she greeted, pushing off and walking toward you. "Took you long enough."

"You are aware that normal people do things like dinner and gifts, right?" you teased.

Vi shrugged, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. "Yeah, well, I ain’t normal, and you’re not getting some boring, predictable date."

Before you could ask what she meant, she stepped back and tossed you something—knuckle guards. Not unlike hers, but sleeker, custom-fitted to your hands.

You stared at them, then back at her. "Vi—"

She grinned. "Figured we could get into a little trouble together tonight. You game?"

Oh, of course she planned a street fight for your birthday. You laughed, shaking your head. "You’re unbelievable."

"Yeah, yeah, but you love me anyway," she said, nudging your chin up with her gloved hand. "And after this? We’ll grab some drinks, maybe dance, maybe do something actually romantic."

You slipped on the knuckle guards, flexing your fingers. "You know, for once, I think I like your idea."

Vi smirked. "Atta babe."

And with that, she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the night, ready to make this a birthday neither of you would forget.

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

Jinx.

Jinx didn’t do things halfway. Ever. If she was going to celebrate your birthday, then it wasn’t just going to be some boring dinner or a couple of gifts. No, no, no. It had to be big. It had to be chaotic. And, most importantly, it had to be fun.

So when you woke up to a loud BOOM in the distance, followed by a series of colorful fireworks lighting up the Zaun skyline, you had a gut feeling that Jinx had something to do with it.

You barely had time to get out of bed before the door slammed open, and there she was—grinning wildly, hair messy, hands covered in soot.

“Happy birthday, hot stuff!” she practically screamed, launching herself at you.

You barely caught her, stumbling back as she wrapped her arms and legs around you like an overexcited monkey. “Jinx—what the hell was that explosion?”

She giggled, pressing a quick, excited kiss to your cheek. “Your birthday surprise!”

“…You blew something up for my birthday?”

“Duh! But it wasn’t just something—it was a whole abandoned building! You should’ve seen it—BOOM, KABOOM, colors everywhere!” She jumped down, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, I saved the best for last!”

You weren’t even dressed properly before she was dragging you out the door, her energy contagious despite the slight panic bubbling in your chest.

The Grand Finale

She led you to an open rooftop, one of her favorite hideouts. The moment you stepped onto it, you saw what she had set up—scrap metal and neon signs arranged into a very crooked-looking Happy Birthday! message, flashing erratically with sparks flying from the edges.

Your mouth fell open. “Jinx… did you—”

“Make it myself?” She puffed out her chest proudly. “You betcha!”

It was… chaotic. Dangerous, even. But it was so Jinx, and the fact that she had put in all this effort—in her own, reckless way—made your heart ache in the best way.

She flopped onto the floor, patting the space beside her. “Alright, birthday babe, sit. I got one more thing.”

You sat down, still in awe as she pulled a small, messily wrapped box from her coat. “Now, before you open it, just know that I think it’s cool, and if you don’t like it, I will cry. Probably. No pressure.”

You gave her a playful side-eye before unwrapping it. Inside was… a handmade, slightly dented metal locket, with her signature blue monkey logo engraved on it.

You opened it and nearly laughed—inside was a tiny, badly drawn stick-figure version of you and her holding hands.

Jinx watched you carefully, chewing her lip. “Sooo… you like it, or am I gonna have to start the waterworks?”

You turned to her, grinning. “Jinx, I love it.”

Her face lit up, and before you could react, she tackled you in a tight hug, knocking both of you onto the ground.

“Best! Birthday! Ever!” she cheered, giggling as she pressed kisses all over your face. “Now, let’s set off the big fireworks!”

You exhaled, laughing as she pulled you back up, her excitement never fading. And as she set off the last explosion of the night—lighting up the sky in wild, electric blue—you realized that, in all her chaos, Jinx had given you the most uniquely perfect birthday you could have ever asked for.

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

Ekko.

Ekko was a man of few surprises. He was methodical, thoughtful, and knew how to make things right—whether it was fixing a broken clock or fixing his world. But birthdays? That was a bit of a new territory for him. So when yours came around, you could tell he was determined to make it special.

You woke up that morning to a soft knock on your door. When you opened it, there stood Ekko with a wide grin on his face, holding a small box wrapped in plain paper.

"Happy birthday," he said, his voice warm and a little sheepish. "I hope you like it."

You smiled, taking the gift from him and opening it. Inside was a beautiful, hand-carved pendant—a clockwork piece that looked just like a miniature version of his old time machine. It was intricate, delicate, and totally Ekko.

"You made this?" you asked, amazed.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know it's not much, but I thought you'd like something that... reminded you of us."

The pendant was a symbol of time, and that alone was enough to make your heart flutter. You couldn't help but smile as you hugged him, thankful for the gesture. "I love it."

"Good," he said, his grin returning. "Now, c'mon. I have something else planned."

A Quiet Escape Through Time

Ekko led you through the streets of Zaun, but this time, there was no rush. No plans to rush into battle or solve problems. This time, it was all about you—and the time you’d spent together.

As you walked, Ekko began to recount stories of the past: your first meeting in the undercity, when he had been just a kid trying to survive; the way you helped him and his friends when everything felt like it was falling apart. With every story, you felt yourself sinking deeper into the warmth of his words.

Eventually, you came to a quiet, secluded spot by the river, an area you didn’t even know existed. The sound of the water trickling over rocks was the only noise in the air, and the view of the stars above was breathtaking.

Ekko set down a small blanket he had brought along, gesturing for you to sit. "This was one of my favorite spots when I needed to think," he said softly. "I figured you might like it too."

You sat down beside him, your legs stretched out on the soft grass. Ekko opened a small pack, pulling out a couple of homemade sandwiches, some fruit, and a thermos filled with his own special brew.

"Happy birthday," he said again, handing you a cup of the drink. "I thought we could have a peaceful moment together. No chaos. Just... us."

You took the cup, your heart swelling with affection. "This is perfect," you said, your voice quiet but full of meaning.

Ekko watched you for a moment, then smiled, though there was something a little more sincere behind his eyes. "I know we’ve been through a lot. And I know I don’t always show it, but... I’m really glad you’re in my life."

You reached out, gently resting your hand on his. "I’m glad I’m in yours too, Ekko."

For the rest of the night, the two of you sat together, talking and laughing under the stars, with no rush or distractions. And when the moon was high in the sky, Ekko pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

"I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know I’m happy right here, right now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t help but feel that Ekko’s simple, thoughtful celebration was exactly what you needed. In that quiet moment, everything felt just right. Time could slow down, but with him by your side, you knew that every second was worth it.

Author note: GUYSSSS ITS MY BDAY IM FINALLY 17 YUPPIEEE (Jan 30)

[sai-int]

So, my favorite headcanon for Simon Riley is that he's an incredibly silly guy, but through trauma and shit, the only way he can express his silliness is subtly like with his shitty jokes and one liners.

All of this to say that I think he would have a great time mildly gaslighting his friends for pranks as well as occasionally doing something so out of character in a secluded area with the specific intention of getting caught, just so he can tell his victim that no one will believe them.

His most common victim is Johnny, and like Simon said, no one ever believes him.

THIS but it starts with johnny, then it spreads to the rest of the 141...

simon knows he’s the easiest target. the man is loud, expressive, reactive, which makes it so much worse when no one ever believes him. the gaslighting starts small. missing gear, things moving an inch to the left when johnny swears he just put them down, ghost walking into a room seconds after soap saw him leave it.

soap: "ye were just here-"

ghost: "no, i wasn’t."

soap: "ye-"

ghost: "y'sure y'sleepin' enough, sergeant?"

but then simon gets bored and starts pulling bigger stunts. like the time johnny walks into price's office looking for something and catches simon, full tac gear, standing on top of price’s desk, balancing on one foot, arms outstretched like he’s doing some kind of weird fucking yoga pose.

"steamin' jesus-what the fuck- the desk??"

simon just turns his head slowly to look at him, holds eye contact for a long moment, then-

"what desk?"

-before stepping down and leaving without another word.

johnny tries to tell price.

soap: "he was on yer desk-"

price: "uh-huh."

soap: "just stood there, like a fuckin' bird-"

price: "right."

soap: "ye dinnae believe me."

price: "not even a little."

ghost: "sounds like a you problem, mate."

next, it’s gaz. and simon takes an entirely different approach with him. gaz is logical, grounded, harder to mess with, but simon finds the perfect way.

he mirrors him.

gaz reaches for his coffee? simon reaches at the same time, like he was waiting for it.

gaz crosses his arms? simon crosses his arms, same angle, same stance, eyes locked dead on him.

gaz starts to say something? simon says the same thing moments later, like some kind of demonic mime act.

it gets so bad that one day, gaz just snaps.

gaz: "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

ghost: "dunno what you mean, mate."

but price? price takes the longest to crack.

because simon knows that man is unshakable. he knows it’ll take something subtle, something long-term.

so he starts misquoting things.

price: "all due respect, i've been running ops since before you were born-"

ghost: "no, yeah, i get it. 'live, laugh, love,' an' all that."

price: "…what."

or:

price: "we’re not outta the woods yet-"

ghost: "yeah, yeah. "an apple a day keeps the wolves in the henhouse."

price: "that’s- no. what? that’s not-"

it takes weeks. weeks of price catching simon slipping complete nonsense into casual conversation, weeks of simon saying it all with that flat, deadpan expression. weeks of price trying to correct him-

price: "that’s not how the saying goes."

ghost: "yeah it is."

price: "no, it’s not-"

ghost: "okay, boss."

-and never getting anywhere.

until finally, one day, price just exhales hard, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters,

price: "i fucking hate you."

ghost? just shrugs.

"s'all water under the fridge, cap."

[darkintothedawn]

DATING WOULD INCLUDE... || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Some headcanons I have for dating Stiles!

Memo— This is probably kind of ooc because I'm so overdue for a Teen Wolf rewatch but I think these fit well!

Word Count — 543

Stiles is the type to send you a million texts throughout the day—some sweet, some completely unhinged. One minute, it’s “Thinking about how cute you looked this morning” and the next, “If I turned into a dog but still had my head, would you still love me?”

He constantly finds ways to make you laugh, whether it’s dramatically re-enacting entire movie scenes, putting on ridiculous accents, or just making weird faces at you from across the room.

Despite all his chaos, he’s actually incredibly attentive. He notices when your mood shifts, when you’re overwhelmed, and when you just need a moment of quiet.

If you’re having a bad day, he shows up with your favourite snacks, a hoodie that smells like him, and a marathon of your comfort show queued up—no questions asked.

He definitely overthinks things sometimes, but it just means he puts extra effort into making you feel special. You offhandedly mention liking a certain kind of drink? Now your pantry is stocked with every flavour from that brand.

Stiles is obsessed with holding your hand. Walking? Holding hands. Sitting on the couch? Your fingers are laced together. Driving? One hand on the wheel, the other squeezing yours.

He makes up the most ridiculous pet names for you, and the worst part is they change daily. One day it’s “Sugar Muffin Supreme,” the next it’s “Detective Snuggle Pants.” You never know what’s coming next.

He will 100% go out of his way to find the weirdest, most specific memes that he knows will make you laugh and send them at random times—especially if he knows you’re busy and trying to be serious.

He’s your biggest hype man. Whether it’s a new outfit, a school achievement, or something as small as getting out of bed on a tough day, he’s right there cheering you on like you just won an Olympic medal.

Loves teasing you but gets so soft the second you give him a look. His sarcasm might be legendary, but the second you pout, he’s pulling you into his arms and muttering apologies against your hair.

If you’re having trouble sleeping, he’ll tell you the most nonsensical, rambling stories until you eventually pass out. Half of them involve conspiracy theories or supernatural creatures, but his voice is so soothing that it doesn’t even matter.

Absolutely insists on dramatic forehead kisses. Any excuse to lean in close, pause for dramatic effect, and press a slow, lingering kiss to your skin like he’s in a romance movie.

Stiles is a huge cuddler. He’ll dramatically sigh and drape himself over you like a human blanket, whining if you try to move away. Whether it’s spooning, you lying on his chest while he traces patterns on your back, or tangled limbs on the couch while watching TV, he always has to be touching you in some way. If you get up in the middle of the night, he groggily mumbles “Nooo, stay,” and tries to pull you back into bed. He doesn’t even care if he’s boiling hot—he will suffer in the name of cuddles.

Stiles loves you with his whole heart, and he’s not subtle about it. He's loud, ridiculous, and a little chaotic—but also warm, unwavering, and completely, hopelessly devoted to you.

[kitkat13001]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⤷ eijirou kirishima x reader

⤷ friends to lovers, kiri implied to be taller than reader, inspired the song “look after you” by the fray

compassion is second nature to eijirou kirishima. he’s always willing to lend a helping hand, no protest and no questions asked. 

he’s the ‘bro’ friend, the big-brother of the group standing over you all like a shield. they don’t call him the sturdy hero for nothing. 

he’s saved your life plenty of times, common in your line of work. but most often the things kirishima saves you from aren’t as big as falling buildings or supervillains. 

he always carries an extra hoodie for you in case you get cold. he makes sure everyone drinks water on the weekend group hikes. he always, always offers to share his snacks and insists even when you refuse. 

he texts you to make sure you got home safe, even when he’s the one who drove or walked you. 

for god’s sake, this is the man that sprinted two blocks to a corner store to buy tweezers when you got a splinter one time a few years ago. 

you wonder sometimes how a heart as big as his even fits in his broad chest. 

every other weekend bakugou insists on dragging everyone out for a hike because he can’t catch up with you all over dinner like a normal person and needs to do something active. 

today’s hike had taken longer than you’d originally thought. bakugou got a little too ambitious with his destination, and then mina and denki had wandered off the trail, and then sero twisted his ankle chasing after them. 

it’s nighttime now, and everyone’s been dropped off. you’re the last stop, sitting in the passenger seat of eijirou’s car and wondering how long you can linger without it being weird. 

you sigh after a long moment of sitting in peaceful silence with the faint radio music, finally moving to get out of the car. 

“night, kiri,” you say in the voice of someone who really doesn’t want to say goodnight. 

he moves when you move, clambering out of the drivers seat with a little smile. “i’ll walk you up.”

you stop, meeting his big crimson eyes. “it’s a ten foot walk to the door.”

“yeah.”

“you could just watch me from here, y’know?”

he shrugs, coming around to your side of the car. “‘s no big deal.”

you can feel the warmth coming off his body from when he’s standing next to you. you’re staring up at him curiously, and he blinks down at you. 

“i can see your breath,” he chuckles, taking his scarf off and wrapping it around you loosely while you stand there, stunned. his hands linger on the fabric, warm on your shoulders as he beams down at you. 

“eiji, don’t you ever get tired of looking after everyone?” you ask after a minute, walking up to the door at his side. 

kirishima hums thoughtfully, thinking on it for a second. “i mean, maybe sometimes i guess? but not really, ‘cause i look after the people i care about. so it’s not really work for me, y’know?”

“but don’t you ever want someone to look after you?” you’re at the door now, but you don’t want to go inside just yet. 

“you do,” he replies with a little smile, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you blink, stunned by the revelation.

“you always check up on me. text me good morning and good night. make sure i rest when i’ve been working too hard. carpool front seat so i don’t have to drive alone in the night.” he’s ticking them off on his fingers, an indescribable fondness in his voice. “and besides,” he adds cheerfully, “seeing you happy always has me feeling brand-new.”

you stare up at him with big, soft eyes. “kirishima, i love you.”

he laughs bashfully, scratching at his neck. “yeah, man, i love you too.”

“no, eiji, like i love you.”

he looks at you, meeting your loving gaze. his cheeks darken, and he looks almost nervous. “you…you do?”

you don’t dignify him with a spoken answer. you try to put any words you might’ve strung together into the kiss you pull him in for, clutching at his jacket to bring him down. 

he almost gasps into your mouth, but after a moment he’s cradling your face in big, careful hands like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. 

he’s grinning when you pull away, eyes like melting rubies. “i love you, too. but i think maybe you knew that already.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and @/anitalenia — one hug from kirishima could fix all my problems. no further comments.

[star2fishmeg]

My sweet Meg, I'm not sure if your requests are open, but I'm just sitting here thinking about Jack coming home to you and you instantly praise him, telling him how well he played as always and he becomes a shy, bumbling mess but then he turns into a cheeky bastard and is all like, "yeah, you think so, pretty girl? Do I happen get a little reward for playing so well today?"

Beloved Brynn! I can finally pay you back with a blurb! And dw, only fic requests are closed, blurbs are open!

A smug smile forms across your lips hearing Jack's bedroom door close, and you peer out from his bathroom, leaning against the doorframe in nothing but his t-shirt and your panties. He doesn't notice you at first, occupied by putting his shoes and suit jacket back in his wardrobe, loosening his tie and putting it back where it belongs. You lean your head against the frame, watching quietly as he assumes you've fallen asleep and left the lamp on for him. To you, it seems weird how little attention he pays when he B-lines for his room, but then again, he's used to just heading straight for the wardrobe rather than searching the bed for you, you're not at his every night yet for him to do that and his brains fried after a game.

"Welcome home, first star of the night." You praise, folding your arms over your chest. He turns around, a warm smile on his face and shuffles towards you, almost surprised, "Looked pretty hot out there tonight, huh?"

"Oh yeah? You watched?" His hands slip under your shirt as usual, wrapping around your waist, yours looping around his shoulders. He steps backwards, guiding you towards the bed, the back of his knees hitting the mattress and he sits, pulling you to straddle his lap.

You brush his hair away from his face, thumb swiping across his bottom lip and cupping his cheeks in your palms. His skin is warm, and his breathing becomes deep and relaxed, hands gliding up to your ribs and down to the waistband of your panties, pulling it back and letting it snap against your skin.

Jack thrives off your praise, it makes his chest warm and stomach flip in pleasant ways knowing his girlfriend thinks he's cool, as he puts it. With hooded eyes, you coo, "Of course I did, would never miss the opportunity to watch you wipe the floor with the other guys. Scored some pretty goals out there tonight."

"Stop it, wasn't that great, m'sure you watched me fall on my face out there." He rolls his eyes and grins, pink flushing to his cheeks and hides in your neck. Goosebumps run over his skin when your hands slide down his nape with gentle touches, lazily wrapping around his shoulders.

"Yet you're still my pretty boy, so don’t hide from me," pulling his face out, your lips trail wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck, swirling your tongue over the sweet spot he always moans at, nipping and giving the skin a small suck until purple blossoms, "you did so well tonight, J. Played so well, and hard work paid off, hm?"

Your hot breath fans over his nerves, hands finding their way to his collar start unbuttoning with your lips still moving along his neck. When his shirt opens, he shrugs it off his shoulders, a rumbly groan falling from his mouth as your fingertips trace over his chest and abs, following every ridge while your lips kiss under his earlobe.

"Princess, stop it, was nothin'-" he can't finish his sentence with your hips rolling over his lap, yet he's grinning with elation hearing how soft and sweet your voice is while praising him. He loves it, he loves it in a way that doesn't inflate his ego but his heart, the recognition that someone - who isn't his family or sports analyst - sees how he has passion for playing and working for the achievement. He wants to make you proud.

You bring your hands back to his shoulders, holding his jaw and forcing him to stop avoiding your gaze and look you in your lovesick eyes, noticing how his are glossed over and may as well have been in the shape of hearts with how dilated his pupils are.

Shivers crawl up your spine in euphoric shockwaves when his thumbs brush under your breasts, hiking your shirt up so he can the most miniscule glace of your hips moving. He can’t explain it but looking you in the eye makes him squirm and shy. He doesn’t get shy, that’s your impact on him.

"Nah, really played your part as alternate captain out there, makin' plays and finding openings, God you're just a bundle of talent, aren't you?" you nibble his earlobe before you press your lips to his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth until he's pulling you in and finding your tongue, lapping and swirling with deep moans reverberating in his chest. "Always playing a huge part in the team, no wonder they love you."

He bucks his hips up into you, one hand cupping your jaw and keeping you close to him, addicted to how you move your mouth against his.

"I think you played your best yet out there, two goals and an assist? That's hot." You mumble against his lips.

"Yeah, you think so, pretty girl? Do I happen to get a little reward for playing so well today?" Your constant grinding with your compliments causes a shift in him, an aching in his dick. He's got that shit-eating grin on his face, and you know what he wants the second his hands move to cup your breasts.

Without breaking eye-contact, you unbuckle his belt, fingers unzipping his fly and drowning in how pretty the way his eyes flutter close when you begin palming his erect cock through his boxers, "If you ask nicely."

"Please, princess? I’ve been good, I’ll be good." He breathes out, lulling his head back, hands kneading your chest and fingers pinching your nipples. You're excited, so excited your stomach feels like it's erupting with butterflies, and you take no hesitation in sliding back and onto your knees. Jack's cocky front crumbles when he finally looks down at you, your eyes doe-like staring up at him and shimmying his slacks and boxers to his ankles. Like the good boy he is, he lets himself go and groans the second your hand wraps around his base.

[theemissuniverse]

“THE HEART AND THE HEAD” HENRY HART X SCIENTIST FEM! READER

SUMMARY : You and Henry are polar opposites but Henry couldn’t care less. (Based on movie Henry so Henry is 24.) Reader is also based on Harper from Wizards of Waverly outfit wise.

WARNINGS : explicit content. Reader is meant to be on the plus size but it really doesn’t matter I don’t think

Ever since Henry moved to Dystopia, he had to get used to the weird characters he would come across. That included you, the quirky but insanely intelligent scientist he just happened to met.

It was all by chance. He ended up saving you from a burglary. And ever since then, the two of you were inseparable.

The two of you clicked, despite your differences. There honestly wasn’t anything about the two of that was the same and yet, the two of were stuck together like glue.

He appreciated how different you were. Your weirdness attracted him to you. Not to mention you could match his sarcasm well.

And he liked it.

The only thing you hated about Henry was how heroic he was. He took risks. Being impulsive was a trait you did not appreciate when it came to him.

And it was showing right now.

“Ah, shit.”

“Hold still.”

Right now you were patching Henry up from his recent fight. Henry ended up defeating the guy with the ability to control fire but he ended up with some battle wounds to show it.

You were cleaning out the wound down towards his abdomen. Henry could hear the attitude in your voice. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“I’m mad at the things that you do now hush.”

Henry hissed a little, feeling you clean the wound with chemicals. He saw you were having a hard time cleaning it with his shirt on. “I can take it off.”

You paused, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “No, it’s fine.”

“Here, let me.” Henry pulled the shirt over him anyway, and tossed it to the side.

You always knew Henry had a nice body but seeing it up close and in person did something to you. You bit your lip, mumbling a quick “thanks” before going back to work.

Henry didn’t say anything. He just admired you. He knew he was developing feelings for you. He wasn’t stupid. He could recognize it. How could he not?

You were beautiful, intelligent, brave, caring, funny. All traits he loved in a woman. He was trying to push it away because he respected the relationship he had with you. You two were partners, helping get crime off the streets.

But he didn’t want to push it away though.

You were clearly going through making one of your crazy outfits that you always did. Today, you were wearing a dress made out of crayola markers. Yes, the dress would’ve been bizarre to anyone else but there was something about your uniqueness and you being unapologetically you that made you attractive to Henry.

Henry was looking you up and down, checking you out as if you were half naked and the hottest girl in the room. You could wear the stupidest of clothing to anyone else but to him you’d still be attractive.

As you cleaned the wound, you felt his eyes on you. When you looked up, you saw Henry was looking at you, dead in the eyes.

When you first met Henry, he was a nice guy. A little sassy at times but he was humorous and good and you needed a guy like that at the time. In a place like Dystopia, you had to treasure men like that.

Then Henry started to get a little flirtatious with you. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or just playing around so you’d always ignore his advances.

This time you didn’t think you could ignore it.

You looked away from him and focused on the wound. “I’m almost done cleaning it.”

Henry wouldn’t let you look away. He lifted your chin up and forced you to look at him. “I’m sorry, okay? Stop being mad.”

His voice was a little playful but you felt the sincerity in his voice which made it tug at the strings of your heart a little. “What you did was too much.”

“I know but you know I’m on autopilot when I get into the action.”

You sighed, knowing this about him. “You have a good heart, Henry.” You placed your hand over his heart. “But sometimes we need to use this.” You pointed at his head. “Because if we don’t then this.” You placed your hand back over his heart. “Doesn’t matter.”

Henry gripped your hand when you placed it. “I don’t need that. That’s what I got you for.”

You let out a smile, tilting your head at the former sidekick. When he spoke, it always felt like poetry to you. Or maybe you were a little bias.

You cleared your throat. Then took a bandage. You placed it directly on Henry’s wound. “All done.”

Henry saw you were trying to be quick to pull away at his touch and walk away. He got off from the table and grabbed your arm. Then forced you to turn and look at him.

A gasp came from your lips from his assertiveness. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” You forced yourself to play stupid.

“Pushing me away. You’re driving me insane.”

“I’m not pushing you away, Hen.”

“Bullshit. I feel it.”

You let out a sigh before turning away from him. You rubbed the back of your neck out of frustration. Henry was right behind you, following your lead.

He started to rub the back of your neck with his strong hands. The tension from your neck instantly released. You let out a moan of relief.

His hands were on your love handles and he gave them a gentle rub, making you sigh more out of relaxation. “Stop, pushing me away.”

“Henry…”

The long moan of his name, made him force you to turn around and face him. His left hand stayed on your love handle while his right hand caressed your face. “Why are you doing this?” You asked him.

Henry tilted his head at your behavior, observing your reaction. He saw your eyes about to fill with tears. Then it was too late. A tear dropped down your cheek.

He quickly kissed it away. “Why are you crying?”

“Why are you doing this?” You repeated.

Henry brought your chin up, making sure you were looking at him in the eyes. Usually he did have a smart remark but now wasn’t the time for that right now. Now was the time to be real. “Because I have feelings for you.”

“No you don’t.”

He knew this was coming. You doubting his feelings for you just because you were different than the girls he would usually go after. “You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t have feelings for. I decide that. Not you, me.”

You bit your lip. You wanted to look away but you knew Henry was just going to make you look at him. “I don’t want to get hurt, Henry.”

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He whispered.

It was your turn to make a move. You cupped his face with both hands, kissing him.

Henry quickly kissed you back. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. The kiss felt perfect. Everything he imagined it would be. He didn’t want to let you go, afraid if you pulled back he would never get you like this again.

He pushed you up against one of your desks. He knocked down all the stuff that was on it. You were thankful you didn’t have any important work on the desk.

He picked you up, setting you down on the desk, continuing to kiss you like his life depended on it.

Your hands went to his chest. You had forgotten he was completely shirtless. His abs were defined. The muscles along his arm hugged you like a snug blanket.

Henry moaned in your mouth at the feeling of just simply your hands on his chest. His hand went to the back of your neck. He gave you a big, sloppy, deep, but passionate kiss.

He pulled away and looked at you back in your eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He told you again.

It was then you just had to take in a deep breath and nod in acceptance. “Okay.”

[ectonurites]

Do you think the use of Ariana was made to prop up timber in the valentine's day special.

And on another note what do you think of the lack off explicit callbacks to tim/steph but callbacks with ariana.

i mean like you have a valentine's day story with tim and stephanie shows up and you mention tim having many gf's in the past but choosing callbakcs and explicit references to ariana but not steph when she shows up.

really hope they don't start doing where any callbacks to tim's romances are his past minor gf's and not steph and pretend they are just friends with no romantic history

"Do you think the use of Ariana was made to prop up timber in the valentine's day special."

I think Ariana was definitely used as a prop to tell this story with little consideration given to her as an individual—the author uses Ariana's family's deli restaurant as a setting and uses her past relationship to Tim as a way to connect things but doesn't actually have her do anything else in the story. Except, well, mention Tim & Bernard's relationship.

Now, to be fair, there really are times in stories (especially short ones as part of an anthology like this) where you just need a throwaway character to do something for a moment for the sake of moving the plot along. Acting like every single character who shows up in a story needs to be Super Important And Fleshed Out In That Specific Story is unrealistic and frankly ridiculous.

But but but but... a character who was once a prominent love interest & supporting character for one of the leads you are writing about isn't the same as a nameless throwaway, you know? Especially when you're mentioning that connection specifically—of her being Tim's first girlfriend (rather than it just being a wordless cameo or something) in a story that’s premise hinges on Tim having dating experience.

Ariana is a character who hasn't appeared since like 1999, so pulling her out of the woodwork to be used for one panel while also... needing to make a huge logic leap with her to make it even work—something the writer felt fine with just explaining as having happened off-panel—is really frustrating and annoying. I'm talking, of course, about Ari just suddenly knowing Tim's identity as Robin. You know, the root of most challenges that they faced in their relationship because he couldn't be honest with her about it. Yeah that's just no big deal now, apparently.

That's what pisses me off about this the most—bringing her back only to brush off the sources of conflict between her and Tim and make everything all okie dokie in a completely unearned way. Now to be clear: I don't think it's a bad thing for Ariana to be like, nice about Tim & Bernard being together now—especially because in her last speaking appearance before this that I'm aware of [Robin #66], the two of them had cleared some air on still wanting to be friends even though they're no longer dating. But I do think using her one speech bubble of dialogue to mention how she 'owes' him and Bernard a dinner feels off.

If there were like... an actual conversation between Ari & Tim and during that she said something nice about Tim & Bernard/something about being happy for him, then I don't think it'd feel so weird. And I will say, this is a short story so I get there not being the page space to resolve Tim & Ari's history in a story that's not about that, I really do. But this is the first time she's shown up in about 25 years! Using her in a story and having a big reveal like Tim's identity and not touching on any of that but making sure you do use her single dialogue bubble to mention her ‘owing’ Tim & to mention the relationship btwn Tim & his current love interest??? That just feels weeeird!!!!!!

It feels like her purpose in this story was largely to show a lack of conflict in Tim's current life and that everyone around him is super enthusiastically pro Tim being with Bernard, without actually considering much about her as a character. Which… again, this story isn’t about her, it’s about Tim & Damian… but… it’s still just frustrating when this isn’t a character we can just go read some other book published in the last two decades to see her actually get used well in, this is a character we very well may not see for another 25 years after this.

"And on another note what do you think of the lack off explicit callbacks to tim/steph but callbacks with ariana. i mean like you have a valentine's day story with tim and stephanie shows up and you mention tim having many gf's in the past but choosing callbakcs and explicit references to ariana but not steph when she shows up. really hope they don't start doing where any callbacks to tim's romances are his past minor gf's and not steph and pretend they are just friends with no romantic history"

Yeah I think that also felt a little weird too. This definitely would have been a time that made sense to bring up their history—but also this story was just weird in regards to Steph overall (with Damian's 'Stephanie is too female' line as to why he couldn't ask her for girl advice...?) so I dunno if it's something to think of as a larger trend or if this was more just that particular writer being weird.

Considering the writer also (in the post I already linked earlier) said this about Tim's past love interests—"I figure Tim probably carried some guilt re: his relationship with Ariana, but less with his other love interests?"—I really feel like he just doesn't have a great grasp on Tim's previous relationships at all. Tim is like the fucking poster child for 'feels guilty about everything he's done ever'.

To act like he's not wracked with near-equal levels of guilt about how pretty much all of his past relationships (esp with civilians) went is nuts. Ariana is not the one I would single out from that bunch as somehow him feeling more guilty about than the rest (the only real justification for that I could think of is if you were to explore his guilt over him starting to have feelings for Steph while he & Ari were still together but from the way the rest of that writer's interaction is talking solely about Robin-identity related stuff, I don't think that's what he had in mind?). What about Zo who he ashamedly broke up with over the phone, feeling as if he'd already let her down too many times? What about Tam who he let think her father was dead for days because even though she knew he was a superhero he still couldn’t fully let her in which caused the slow building relationship between them to explode? Tim and Ari actually had a civil face-to-face break up at school and talked in a friendly way afterwards! Not to say he shouldn't feel guilt there with her because there are reasons he should, but acting like it's somehow a higher level of guilt than he’d have with the others is just odd.

Anyway that's getting a bit off topic. But yes, while I'm very much so not opposed to the idea of Tim's previous girlfriends getting to be referenced/come back in some fashion, I do also hope that it doesn't mean Tim & Steph's history will get thrown to the side. And I'd hope that if they do get to come back, they'd actually get to be... characters, who have dynamics with other characters, rather than just cardboard cutouts there to say one nice thing and then fade back into comic limbo for the rest of eternity.

[gingerteafairy]

switch button (todd haynes x reader)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ If there was one thing Todd Haynes wasn't, it was cute. Not even close.

tags n warnings: smut/mdni, dirty talk, love bites and kisses. word count: +700. masterlist

Once again, you were tangled up with Todd, kissing your amazing boyfriend in the warmth of his bed. The two of you had always loved being close like this—comfortable, intimate, perfect. But today, something felt different. More intense.

Your leg was hooked around his waist, pulling him in as if you couldn’t bear to let go. His hands, warm and possessive, had slipped beneath your shirt, fingertips pressing into your hips, leaving faint imprints against your skin. He groaned into your lips, a low, needy sound, tugging you closer with every passing second.

It was no secret that your relationship was intimate—maybe even too much so—shocking everyone around you. But what no one knew was the most intriguing part: you and Todd never had sex.

Which was at least weird considering the humongous amount of times you kissed standing up, on the couch, bed, hands touching the warmest places, but nothing more. You had been dating for a month, however, anytime things got a little warmer down there, Todd stopped, mumbling that it was time to watch a movie or do something else.

But not today, because he seemed so desperate to devour your lips that you even forgot to ask why he always stopped.

Come on, Todd Haynes was so cute, it didn't even seem like he had dirty thoughts under those curls. He was always a gentleman, adoring you. The poor boy blushed violently when you kissed his cheek in the hallways at college. You’d die to find out if Todd was as cute in bed as he was in life.

“Shit, you’re so hot,” he muttered, his hands reaching into your shorts to pull you closer to his visible erection.

“Todd, I want you so bad,” you mewled, hearing him moaning softly into your mouth, pressing your fingers even deeper into your ass. "It's not even funny."

“Hmmm, really?” He whispered, moving your hips to grind on his covered cock, chuckling at your surprised reactions. “You’re driving me insane, you know that?”

“Why don’t you show me?” You hurried, unable to handle the excitement building up in your body any longer.

“With pleasure,” He smiled, taking one last bite at your lower lip.

Todd changed position with impressive ease for someone so cute, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

“Perfect,” he whispered, attacking your neck, not giving you time to consider whether that was really your boyfriend or some succubus possessing his body.

The thing was, Todd was dying to do God knows what to you every time you kissed his rosy lips, knowing that you were wet and needy beneath him. Jerking off after kissing sessions was a common thing, especially thinking about pinning your wrists or your legs impossibly spread wide open for him.

If there was one thing Todd Haynes wasn’t when his cock was aching hard on its confinements, it was cute. And his game-changer was precisely you asking for it.

“God, you’re so needy.” he murmured, sucking on the pressure point, squeezing your wrists slightly tighter. “You have no idea of the effect you have on me."

“Wh… What do I do?” you stuttered, grunting when he sucked harder, scraping his teeth over the spot.

“What you—Do you even know how hard it’s to hold back?” He gasped, pulling away to look at your face as his hands roamed your curves, grabbing the most sensitive places. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, wearing those tiny shorts, moaning when i kiss you. Fuck, I get hard every time you bite my lip with that face. I wonder if it’s to tease me.”

“Sorry, it's just…i want you so much, baby…” You cooed, knitting your eyebrows together on your face, feeling yourself heating up with each word your boyfriend said. "Can't stop thinking about your cock. Just wanted to feel you."

“You're so—fucking cute begging like this,” He chuckled softly, coming close to your lips with his eyes almost closing without leaving yours. “I like that. Almost like you want me to fuck you hard till you forget your name, doll.”

“I—i want it.” you shivered, pulling his face with clear eager. “I want it all, please… just—just fuck me okay, i can't take it anymore.”

“As you wish, baby,” he muttered, already taking off—ripping—your clothes, hovering your legs over his shoulders. If there was one thing Todd Haynes wasn't, it was cute. Not even close. And you learned that the best way. Well, with a little back pain the other day. He knew some really weird positions.

[plaguedocboi]

Single-file!

[spotaus]

Thinking about Orchid and her connection to my take on Gender (because this was meant to be about her and the Crew but it just devolved into a character analysis kinda??? More trauma-dumping maybe???) This is very much an oc/personal rant so feel free to ignore it 🫡

So, Orchid started off as a character I didn't really think much of (hear me out this is going to be relevant) because I wanted to add a 'girl' character but didn't know what to *do* with her, y'know? She was always going to be the strongest one there, she had the odds stacked in her favor with her parents. She was always going to be the gloomy side-character to match Reset's energy. But I think she's gone through every stage of Generic Woman I could possibly find.

At first she was angry and abrasive (think Fell!Sans) where every other word was a curse and she was likely to throw the first punch then laugh as she kicks her enemy while they're down. This was when Reset was a cartoonishly self-centered villain whose goal was simply to prove others wrong. Then Orchid became a sort of sisterly figure. This was short-lived, but she was the one comforting people who Reset would torment, but would ultimately follow his orders, because at this point he was actually a danger and sadistic. And then there was the phase where the story mellowed out and she became the token Goth Girl who, yes she was strong, but was heavy on the 'whatever' energy. Then there was her Era of deep self-loathing and anxiety about her worth that held her back and made her a much more timid and meek character who would only lash out on occasion.

Now, Orchid is the best of those iterations I've written yet. She's calm, level-headed, and a natural leader. Her father raised those traits into her. But she's very reactive, and can be silly, and when she's comfortable it's likely that air of importance transforms into something more comfortable and familiar. She laughs loudly and grins wide, she likes loud video-games but loves to read in the quiet. She's extremely disciplined, and normally no one can get through her tough exterior besides her best friend, Reset. She does what she does for her own enjoyment, sure, but she's thought of every angle and makes her choice to help Reset and control the others with her whole chest. She still worries she won't live up to her invisible expectations, and that and her loyalty are her two driving forces.

I know that Orchid is important to me because she's the longest-running female oc I've had. I have a rough relationship with womanhood/girlhood and I know looking back that Orchid recieved every ounce of my distaste for being a woman that I could shovel into her. That never made her less of a character, she was actually always one of my favorites, and rarely was she a 'punching bag oc'. I just... projected onto her a lot. And she's a good sign of how I've learned who I am. I've decided that my own femininity is something I could live without. I'd rather not associate myself with it, and I'd like to leave it in my past, focusing on a future where I'm not tied down with any gender roles or expectations. That won't happen, but I've come to terms with it myself. Orchid though? I figured out through her that I don't have to hate women characters. My own distaste for my circumstances doesn't mean I have to push it onto my characters (on God I've never expressed anything rude to actual people, that'd be rude as hell and uncalled for, but I have a bad habit of disliking fictional women in media). So, Orchid is a well-roubded character finally. She has motivations abd goals and a *lot* more depth than I ever expected her to. She's happy with being a woman, she's content. She's not treated differently for it in unfair ways by those she cares about, so she doesn't mind it. She likes to wear pretty outfits and lets Reset add bows to her ribbons. She doesn't let being a woman hold her back in the slightest.

So, yeah. Orchid is one of my babies. If I ever leave this Fandom behind for good, she's one that's coming with (Ichor, Orchid, and Pretender all have human designs I can use elsewhere lol-) but in the meantime I'll just rotate her around in my brain for a while longer.

If I'm right, she's been with me for nearly 5-6 years and I went through a *lot* with her as an outlet. So, she's kinda just like an old stuffed animal. A lil ripped, matted fur, maybe a stain or two, but there's a story there and that makes it important beyond belief.

[themyscirah]

WE GOTTEM BOYS

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[rindreamery]

out of breath, got me going like...

some of the attractive things that the blue lock men do. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu ─ content: fluff, suggestive

note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩‍🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around

itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.

it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.

it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”

the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you. 

you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.

it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.

he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin. 

“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.

words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.

itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.

driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.

it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.

it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.

you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.

it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.

it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.

“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.

nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.

laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.

but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.

so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.

your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”

"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."

michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.

at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you

it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.

he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”

“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.

you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.

it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention. 

“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”

oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.

neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.

but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.

oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.

it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.

he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.

“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.

“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.

oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.

yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.

it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.

so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.

“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”

it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.

you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.

whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”

“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[screampied]

“tch, what are you doing.”

“hugging you.”

“i’m not stupid. why are you hugging me,”

sukuna grouses, his entire vast frame growing stiff. it was always like this with you. every few seconds, you’d be talking to him about literally anything and out of nowhere, your human arms just wrap around his waist. the demon stands still with the most repulsed poker-face, yet he doesn’t attempt to pry you off. for whatever reason, your warmth was surprisingly .. comfortable. you’ve got the cutest smile contorting against your features. burying your face into the center of his chest, the demon sighs, flicking your forehead. “oi brat, i asked you a question.”

playfully wincing at his gesture — you have a tiny pout. “you looked like you could use one,” and your arms briefly tighten around his slim torso. “also, usually when someone’s hugging you, you’re required to hug the other person b-”

“don’t tell me what to do,” and you gasp, feeling strong arms pull you in close. with an oof, you land right into his soft padded chest. your cheek tenderly rubs against the various ancient markings that paint and decorate his skin. the ‘hug’ only lasts for about three seconds before he pulls away, pretending to feel ill. a mere drama king. “disgusting. got me participating in such a revolting, humanly act. think ‘m gonna be sick.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic,” you tease, leaning into his touch. you’re met with a crimson-red glare but you could spot the vague pout forming against his lips if you squinted. out of all the pesky humans he’s encountered, no one was ever tolerable or worthy for his attention.

no one except . . . you.

a simple gesture as hugging makes him feel mushy ‘n soft inside and he hates it. loathes it, that dumb carefree grin that cheeses against your lips, the cute glimmer sparkling in your eyes. so irritating, so . . adorable.

as you rest your chin against his chest, you let off a tiny huff. “do demons not hug each other?”

“not in this way,” he murmurs, feeling an awkward lump brew in his throat. sukuna’s eyes suddenly avoid yours and you grow curious. not only that, but his body language changes. your softness was making him nervous.

he swears a plethora of inaudible curses under his breath, remaining rigidly stiff and refuses to move his beefy arms another itch. your arms wrap around him again and a huffing sigh makes his tense shoulder lower. with a grumpy grunt, his eye twitches and a single fang bares below his top lip, a sign of cute stubborn annoyance. “ack, you’re squishing me, human. release me at once.”

your chin swiftly rubs against the soft fabric that made up his personalized kimono before deadpanning. “not until you hug me back.”

“i am hugging you back.”

“no you’re not,” you giggle, burying your face inside between the opening slit of his clothing piece. his body heat tepidly radiates against you and you’re engulfed with his loud natural scent. the demon’s almost always naturally warm, your personal heating pad. he shoots you a vexing glare, nostrils flaring up in exasperation before his arms awkwardly pull you closer. “hey, not s- so tight, ‘kuna.”

“now you wanna complain? you’re gonna take this hug,” and you giggle, feeling him gingerly shove you into his broad chest, squeezing you tight.

sukuna sassily rolls his eyes at the audacity,

he’s never been one to participate in such ludicrous, but if it was with you, maybe it wasn’t that bad. sukuna stares down at you, a weird soft feeling pooling its way into his heart — after a while, he unwraps his arms from your body, ruffling your hair. “stupid.”

with a cheeky grin, you wrap your arms right back around his torso, nuzzling against his chest like you were a kitten. with a gruff groan, his arms suddenly mirror you, slinging around your waist, pulling you close tightly. how annoying, he’s starting to enjoy this little thing called ‘hugging.’

sukuna slowly adapts to the warmth of your body against him, a faint smile creeping on his face at your next adoring words. “love you ‘kuna.”

“you’re gonna experience a deadly cough in five days, brat.”

“huh?”

“hmph. i said . . i love you too.”

[chuluoyi]

✎ mission: baby steps !

- gojo satoru x reader

the three times gojo tried to make his baby love him (and how he miserably fails)

genre: full crack, dad!gojo being a sore loser, your baby being mean (he only wants peace, really), and obviously, fluff !!

note: a little thing for father's day ehe <3 i know i said i'll work on smut in the polls next but uhhh, this comes first ok?! :') i just love the idea of gojo vs baby don't mind me *sobs* and all the scenario here come from the tiktok/reels you've sent me!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

There are many things that come with being a jujutsu sorcerer, and when you are Gojo Satoru, those things seem to be multiplying like bunnies.

This essentially means less time with his wife and baby. Look, he could finish missions fast, but when sent to other cities, even he couldn't abuse his teleportation powers all the time to return to Tokyo.

And so, as much as he hated it, he couldn't fault his baby boy for forgetting him.

"Look, it's papa," you rocked your son with a smile, consoling him as he wailed right after Satoru held him. "Don't cry, don't cry! Papa just got back from a long mission, he's not scary!"

"Is he scared of me?" Ouch. The thought prickled him. It somehow felt sourer than seeing Principal Gakuganji's face.

You hummed, seemingly (or comically?) deep in thought. "Hmm, in baby's point of view: a big, bad man suddenly picks him up, of course he's scared."

"I'm not a bad man!"

Okay, he wasn't having this. Satoru adored his baby to bits and he would want him to at least know it. It's settled then—he would be taking paid leave just to spend some time with his baby.

This would be his mission for the next three days!

DAY ONE

The day started off great. Baby Gojo was relatively calm, a bit fussy here and there but Satoru could definitely handle him.

"Look, a plane is coming!" he said playfully, moving the spoon in the air to attract his baby's attention. "Open your mouth wide!"

Baby blinked at him with the straightest face ever. His two blue orbs were the very same as his father, and yet they held disinterest so great that it was a wonder Satoru didn't notice.

He then playfully smooched baby's face, but he scrunched up, cringing in response.

And later, another achievement unlocked: Satoru successfully got his son to sleep for his afternoon nap!

"You're so cute, sigh." Satoru poked his baby's cheek lightly. "You look like me, but when you sleep, you totally look like your mama..."

He might not say it out loud, but one of his favorite sights lately was seeing you sleep next to your son. Both of you looked so precious and vulnerable, so alike, and it made him warm.

And whenever he looked at this little creation between you and him, he also got the urge to poke him so bad.

So he did. Only this time, he poked him a little too hard.

And how wrong that move was.

His son immediately cracked his eyes open, his lips quivered, and then his whole face scrunched up, followed by—

"WAAA!"

"Oof! Wait— I'm sorry!"

Long story short, he refused to be held in Satoru's arms, so you took over and your husband could only watch you with dissatisfaction.

"Won't you let me hold you?" he asked despondently, pulling up a pitiful face and batting his eyelashes. "I have the warmest hugs! Mama can vouch for that!"

"Satoru, he doesn't want you."

DAY ONE RESULT : FAILED

DAY TWO

Okay, his baby would love him today. Satoru was sure of it.

He had ordered this baby ride-on toy via home shopping and not only that, he would play with him!

"Here we goo~! Honk! Honk!" Satoru steered the little vehicle with his son at the backseat, hyping him up and even made a weird sound that was supposed to resemble a... train?

You watched them both, giggling. Your husband looked positively ridiculous as he was too big for the small vehicle, but still persisted in entertaining your clueless baby behind him. "Oh my, Satoru, you're trying way too hard."

"I have to!" he retorted, sending pout and a glare at the same time. "You can't hog him all the time, he's my son too!"

"Well, good luck~ as it happens, your spawn isn't easy to impress."

"Just so you wait—!" Satoru begrudgingly shot you a look, eaten up by your taunts, not noticing the wall in front of him. "By the end of today, he'll— whoaaa!"

He was about to crash into the said wall, and you were prepared to jump to save your baby first. But then, Satoru did the next best thing to stop it—jumping out of the ride-on, rolling onto the floor... and crashing into the bookshelf that some of the things fell. "Ow!"

"Are you okay!?" you immediately picked up your baby before checking him over. However, Satoru's eyes were transfixed on your shared munchkin.

"Meh heh~"

And you too when you heard it— your baby was wiggling, all smiles, seemingly amused by the sight of his papa lying there pitifully. Satoru was aghast.

"Y-you have no filial piety!"

DAY TWO RESULT : FAILED

DAY THREE

Today, Satoru had gotten inside the playpen and brought a bunch of toys, planning to entertain his son with all of them.

"C'mon, don't throw that!" he pursed his lips when his kid flung the lego away. "Don't you want to play together with me?"

No. As if saying that, the baby crawled away from him. He seemed to have a target in mind though.

"Oi, what are you doing?" Satoru was puzzled, but he was in for a surprise when the child rose slowly.

"Oh, you're pushing yourself up..." he stated, observing how the baby, still wobbly, clutched on the edge of his playpen for support.

A huge grin spread across his face then. "Aww, look at you!" he gushed with pride. "You can stand already! Ooh!"

And suddenly, the sight tugged at his heartstrings. This was the first time he had ever witnessed such a milestone. He wasn't here when he first started teething or crawling, and now that he was here when his son was standing... he wanted to see more of this.

"Now, can you take a step?" Satoru moved closer to him, and the kid turned to him with those clear blue eyes and a little frown, seemingly unsure. "Go! Go! Come to me!"

He didn't think he would actually try to walk. But he did as baby let go of the support, alas suddenly he slipped—

And fell flat on his face.

"—! Are you hurt?!" Satoru immediately plucked him off the floor, horrified, and pulled him close when the baby started to sniffle. Soon, he began to wail inconsolably.

"Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—!" he didn't even know why he was apologizing, but seeing his baby so frightened made his chest tighten. "Stop crying, oh wait—let's find mama!"

You were engrossed in your evening TV series when Satoru came barging to the living room with your poor son while being hysterical. "Help him!"

"What happened?!"

"He fell! He fell!"

Of course, your main concern was to comfort your baby, and so you reached out to take him from your husband's arms, only that...

"Huh...?" even Satoru was stunned when his son clutched onto his shirt, continuing to cry but refusing to let go, burying his little face into him.

Suddenly, he felt warm, he felt needed, and most of all, his desire to protect him was so overwhelming that he couldn't help but squeeze him closer.

You looked between the father and son, feeling giddy at the sight.

"He wants you," you finally smiled, patting baby's back. Satoru glanced between you and his precious pumpkin, seemingly taken aback as he blinked several times. When the fact sank in, he felt like a mush and pressed a kiss on his head.

The clown was convinced that his kid hates him and you are the savior. So, the fact that this little innocent being wanted him to comfort him... it made his heart flutter.

"Sorry, kid," he sighed into him, smushing his face to his little one's. "Don't cry, yeah? You're making me sad too."

"Satoru... are you getting glassy-eyed?"

"...am not!"

DAY THREE RESULT : DUBIOUS OUTCOME

"He's asleep..." you placed your baby between you and Satoru on the bed later that night, he was now so peaceful, out like a light.

Satoru turned to face you and the baby, looking at both of you with a yawn, but a soft smile lit his face when he saw how you pecked his son's cheek lightly.

These three days made him almost forget that curses still existed out there. Spending time with his son blurred that fine line between reality and a perfect daydream.

"He is still so little, but he screams so loud," he mused, poking the baby's cheek gently. You swatted his hand away, worried he might poke too hard again.

"You keep teasing him, that's why."

"—? He keeps playing me, is why!"

You two burst into quiet giggles then, and you couldn't help but reminiscing about the journey from when you first found out you were expecting, through the first ultrasound, and all the way to delivering your son.

And it seemed like Satoru had an inkling of what you were thinking when he suddenly blurted:

"Thank you, for everything you do," he whispered then, his eyes crinkled so softly at you.

You playfully huffed to hide your misty eyes, and in that moment, Satoru knew, that you too were glad for this life you two shared.

. . .

And that, in and of itself, was enough for him to thank all the stars for bringing him to meet you in that most beautiful spring of 2006.

Epilogue

It was morning, and baby was awoken by... sounds.

He looked to the side to find his mama there— your hand on his tummy to prevent him from rolling.

And then he turned to the other side to find his papa... who is perfectly still, but emanating this low sounds with each breath he took.

The longer he heard it, the more irritated your munchkin felt. So he rose, put his fists together, and came down on him—

Whack!

"—?!" Satoru groaned when something hit his face, and he opened his eyes only to see his son readying his punch again—

"W-why are you hitting me!" he was mortified. "H-help! Sweets, wake up! He’ll murder me!”

OVERALL MISSION RESULT : FAILED

[luveline]

hiiii if you’re still looking for remus centered requests, i rly liked your best friend steve giving reader a hickey and couldn’t help but think of Remus too! like him helping a shy reader not feel insecure about being the ‘inexperienced’ one of their friend group… by giving her some experience 👀💞? love ya lots!

love u thank u for requesting<3

—Remus gives you your first kiss, and then a little more than that. You know, between friends. fem, 1.2k

“Will anyone kiss me tonight, or shall I go unkissed, like some leper?” 

You laugh at Sirius’ drama. “It’s not so terrible,” you say, coming up the hallway behind him and James, your face bitten by the cold. 

“I know, my lovely little blueberry muffin,” Sirius croons, leaning back and prodding at your cheeks, the smell of cider stuck to him like a cloud, “how you remain unkissed is a mystery to me. Shall we fix that now?” 

Sirius is your friend, he doesn’t poke fun, but you flush nervously at his question. James grabs Sirius by the shoulders and yanks him away from you toward the kitchen, “Stop teasing!” 

“I’m not teasing! I would love to kiss you, sweetheart, just as soon as I can figure out which one of you is the real one,” Sirius says. 

Remus laughs and closes the front door, the last one in. He wraps his hand around your shoulders. “He’d be so lucky,” he says loudly, sending a sulking, pouting Sirius in the opposite direction, James on his tail in giggles promising to feed him some unbuttered toast if he doesn’t chill out. 

Remus’ arm falls behind your back. “Why does he act like that? Four drinks and he’s in love with everyone. He gets so urgent.” 

You confess slowly, “I can’t say I blame him. Sometimes… I wish someone would kiss me quite urgently, and I don’t even need to get drunk.”

“You do?” 

“Just because I’ve never had one doesn’t mean I don’t want one,” you say, “it’s really weird being the only one who doesn’t– who isn’t dating anyone.” You fluster at your confession, worried it’s too much to share, even while his thumb rubs affectionately into your shoulder. 

“I’m not dating anyone,” Remus says. 

“No, but, going for hookups and stuff–”

You falter as he laughs. “You want one night stands?” 

“No,” you say honestly, “but still. You’ve all done that stuff and I’m like, a twenty something loser.” 

“You listen to Sirius too much. You have an entire life to find someone to kiss you.” 

“I sort of want it now, though,” you say meekly. 

Remus laughs again, his arm wrapping tightly behind your back. You’ve both had a drink too, not tipsy like Sirius but the buzz of it perhaps the cause of your loosened tongue, and his easy touching, his teasing. He smiles down at you kindly, “You want a kiss, is that it?” he asks, “Sirius has upset you and a kiss will make it better?” 

You find you love the feeling of his chest pressed to yours, “I don’t know. It would be nice to have one just so he can stop talking about it.” 

He pulls you right into him and angles his face against yours like he’s going to kiss you, his laughing a soft warmth on the tip of your nose. “You want it right now?” he asks, his hand rubbing sweetly into your back. Layers of fabric feel useless; it’s like he’s caressing naked skin. 

“You can’t kiss me,” you say. 

“Why not?” 

“We’re friends.” 

“What’s a good kiss between friends?” He’s following your eyes, he knows all your tones, Remus wouldn’t play with you like this if he thought it wasn’t what you wanted.

“I won’t know how to do it,” you warn in a whisper, you’re reluctance clearly fading.  

“Well, you’re very pretty, so any bad kissing cancels out.” 

You bend into him as his arm pulls you up, your noses nearly touching, closing your eyes as he leans in. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

“Mm,” you hum, though he doesn’t kiss you until you nod. 

Your noses press together most of all, the strongest sensation, but then there’s heat as his lips part so slightly and press into yours. He kisses upward and you have the sense to keep pressing down, letting his soft kisses move you with him, like an ebbing wave. You take an instinctive step back and he pauses, until you attempt to kiss him again and prompt him into movement —he takes the lead. His hands grasp at your back like you’re water slipping through his fingers, letting a sound of pleasure filter from his lips into yours. 

It’s so peculiar. It’s like fireworks, like all the books and movies say, but it’s more. It’s so warm, and his lips are soft even as his kissing turns rougher, as he tilts his head to the side and his lips come apart against yours. Your hand climbs hesitantly against his side, then up, then stuck at the place just above his ribs. 

“Touch me,” he says gently, breaking the kiss as your breath comes fast, “wrap your arm around me, it’s alright.” 

“Am I hopeless?” you ask, placing your arm behind his shoulder and tipping back to see his face. 

He shakes his head, frowning, why is he frowning? “Hopeless?” he repeats. His hand comes up to your face, and that’s almost as bad as the kiss, the heat of his palm on your face and his thumb stroking over the slope of your cheek. He uses that movement to turn your head, and when he ducks in for another kiss, he murmurs, “No, I wouldn’t say hopeless,” the end of it lost on your lips. 

This kiss is rougher again. Your heart beats so loudly you can hear the thump of it in your ears as your eyes close and you attempt to fit a hundred wanted kisses into one. He just squeezes you close and returns your enthusiasm, until you can’t breathe, forced to hang your head over his shoulder as you pant for air. 

Remus kisses your neck. It’s a shock: you squirm at the sensation but let your head fall to the side as he does it again, not nearly as insistent as his lips had been on yours but something unsaid in the trail of his nose as it runs back up your neck and he kisses the skin below your ear. He slows, and slows, until he’s pulling away to stare at you. 

You lift yourself up, nonplussed. “I didn’t know it felt like that.” 

Remus shifts his hand from the side of your neck to the front, wiping at the marks of his kissing with his thumb where it wets your skin. “It doesn’t always.” He smiles at you with just a hint of smugness in his eyes. “I don’t suppose you want to know what a love bite feels like?” 

“Oi!” James calls from the kitchen. “What are you two doing?” 

You pull apart slowly from one another. You think he might’ve forgotten where you were, as did you. 

James catches the fall of Remus’ hand where it had been on your cheek and squints suspiciously. “What are you guys doing? I made toast.” 

You can’t look at him. Remus saves the day. “We’re looking for her earring.” 

“You won’t find it with the lights off.” He glares again with suspicion before turning back to the kitchen. “I didn’t even know she wore earrings,” he mutters. 

Remus gives you a sideways look. “Maybe I can show you what it feels like after?” he suggests, voice measured. 

“Between friends?” you ask. 

“No.” He puts his hand to the small of your back and gives you a gentle nudge down the hallway. “Not between friends.”