#I wanted this to be something else so bad but it just isn’t that

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Ignihyde

Go here for other dorms

(platonic ortho)

Idia Shroud

You almost regret how direct you are.

Because the second you hold out the chocolates and say, “These are for you, Idia. I like you,” he looks like he’s either going to faint or straight-up perish.

His hair flashes flaming pink. His pupils shrink. His shoulders tense so hard that you can almost hear his soul leaving his body.

“…W-What?” His voice cracks. He immediately clears his throat, gripping his tablet like a lifeline. “You’re—wait, hold up, pause—you’re joking, right?”

You frown. “Why would I joke about this?”

His entire existence malfunctions. He physically leans away from you like he needs to social distance from his own feelings.

“B-Because! You—me—this—!” He waves his hands in the air, looking more and more like he’s about to blue screen. “I mean, what kind of main character energy timeline is this?! There’s no way—this isn’t real life—"

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Idia.”

He flinches.

“I’m serious,” you say, firm but soft. “I like you. You. Just you.”

His breath catches.

His hair flickers again—brighter, more erratic—and suddenly, he’s curling in on himself, gripping his hoodie like it’s his armor.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, sounding utterly doomed. “Oh my god.”

You wait, letting him process.

And then—so, so quietly, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s saying it out loud—

“…I like you too.”

Your heart stutters.

His face flushes completely, and he immediately hides behind his sleeves, his voice muffled as he groans, “Ughhh, don’t look at me, I’m being cringe—”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re fine, Idia.”

“Nope, incorrect, literally having a cardiac event right now, please hold—”

You grin. “Then I guess now’s a bad time to ask if you wanna hang out?”

He pauses.

You watch as his brain visibly reboots, the panic flickering into something else. Something… hopeful.

“Uh.” He fidgets with his sleeves, glancing away. “…You, um. Y’know. Wanna stay and watch a movie or something?”

Your chest warms.

You nod, smiling. “I’d love to.”

Idia freezes again. Then, with one last tiny, flustered squeak, he scoots over on his bean bag, giving you space to sit beside him.

His hair is still pink.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho lights up immediately when you hand him the chocolates, his eyes glowing brighter as he carefully takes the box from your hands.

“For me?” he asks, tilting his head, excitement clear in his voice.

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I just… wanted to thank you. You’re a great friend, Ortho.”

For a moment, he’s completely still. Then, his thrusters let out a tiny burst of energy, making him hover slightly like he’s too happy to stay grounded.

“Wow!” he exclaims, holding the chocolates close to his chest. “This is amazing! No one’s ever given me Valentine’s chocolates before!”

Your heart melts. “Well, you deserve it. You’re always looking out for me. It’s about time I gave you a gift for once.”

Ortho lets out a delighted giggle as he zooms forward and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm, firm, and just tight enough to make you laugh as he squeezes you happily.

“Thank you! I’m so happy! This is going in my memory banks forever!”

You grin, hugging him back. “Glad you like it, buddy.”

Ortho pulls back, still buzzing with energy. “Oh! I need to go show Big Brother! He’s gonna be so surprised!”

You chuckle. “Go for it.”

As Ortho zooms off, chocolates safely in his hands, you can’t help but feel lighter, happier.

Because, honestly? Seeing him that excited was the best part of all.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

I think of mc being very protective of her friends being a orphan and all. someone says the gaunts are all dark wizards? they are in the hospital wing for two weeks under strange circumstances. someone starts a nasty rumor about why Anne really left hogwarts? The worst tripping hex gets everyone who repeats the rumor. someone insults sebastian, you better pray that mc didn't hear about it she's coming for you

The Things We Do for Family | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

oh I loooooved this concept!!!! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, ANON. I really hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!! :')

Words: ~5,200

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Humor, Protective MC

There are things that Hogwarts students simply know—unchallenged truths, whispered warnings passed down from year to year.

The Forbidden Forest is dangerous. Peeves is a menace. The best snacks at Honeydukes sell out by Saturday afternoon. Don’t trust the staircases to take you where you actually want to go. Never accept Garreth Weasley’s offer to ‘test something out’.

And, under no circumstances, should anyone fuck with your friends.

It isn’t official, of course. There’s no school decree, no printed rule in the Hogwarts handbook, it's not carved into the walls. It’s just… understood.

It’s not like you’re some fearsome monster or anything.

You’re a model student, by all accounts. Brilliant. Sharp. Precise. A skilled duelist, a quick thinker, someone who turns in their assignments on time, answers when called on, and doesn’t cause disruptions in class.

You don’t start fights. You don’t pick pointless arguments. You don’t openly break the rules—not in ways that can be proven.

You play the part well.

Because that’s what you had to do.

You grew up alone. No parents. No siblings. No one to step in when things got hard, no one to defend you when the world was cruel. When you were small, scared, and helpless.

So you learned.

You learned that no one was coming to save you. You learned that fairness was a lie, that justice only existed when you carved it out with your own hands. You learned that people could be awful for no reason other than that they could get away with it.

But now? Now, you have a family. Not by blood, but by choice.

And when someone speaks against them? Bad things happen.

The Ominis Incident

It started, as most things did, with a careless remark.

A fifth-year Ravenclaw—smart but not particularly bright—thought it would be amusing to make a joke at Ominis Gaunt’s expense. A cruel one. Something about how the Gaunts were all inbred lunatics, how it was only a matter of time before Ominis ended up just like the rest of his family.

The words reached your ears in the library, drifting from a table not far from where you sat.

"You know I hear they torture Muggles for fun—it’s practically a family tradition. Gaunts don’t have hobbies, just a long history of inbreeding and Crucio."

Laughter followed, a few snickers from their table, hushed but not nearly enough. Not nearly enough to keep you from hearing.

Your quill stilled mid-word, ink pooling in place. Across from you, Ominis sat straight-backed, his expression unreadable, but you saw the way his fingers tightened around the book he was holding, knuckles whitening from the force of it.

He wouldn’t say anything.

Ominis had spent years perfecting the art of indifference. Of carefully controlled expressions, of blank politeness that masked far too much. He never reacted to comments like these.

But just because he wouldn’t didn’t mean you wouldn’t.

You exhaled slowly, carefully. Then, without a sound, you closed your book and stood.

Not a word. Not a glare in their direction. Just a smooth, effortless departure, as if you had suddenly decided the library was boring and somewhere else required your attention.

The Ravenclaws barely noticed.

But they would. They absolutely would. Because Potions class was a very dangerous place. Especially for people who talked too much.

The next day, you walked to Potions without a care in the world.

Sebastian and Ominis flanked you, deep in conversation about some essay Sharp had assigned, with Sebastian whining dramatically about how unfairly long it was, while Ominis countered that perhaps he should have started it earlier than the night before it was due.

You weren’t really listening, because you already knew what was coming.

And sure enough—just as you reached the dungeon corridor—

BOOM.

The floor trembled slightly beneath your feet. A deep, echoing explosion, the unmistakable sound of a cauldron detonating mid-brew, followed almost immediately by the frantic shouting of students.

Gasps. Choking coughs. Someone let out a screech of absolute horror.

Sebastian and Ominis startled.

Sebastian’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he looked toward the dungeon doors. “What the hell—”

Ominis twitched beside you, tilting his head, as if straining to listen.

You? Didn’t even blink. You just kept walking, calmly, like nothing was amiss, like you hadn’t been expecting it for the last twenty-four hours.

Sebastian noticed. His gaze sharpened, flicking to you with a knowing squint. “That was—”

He hesitated. Then narrowed his eyes further.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “I know that face.”

You raised a brow. “What face?”

“That’s your I-did-something-but-you’ll-never-prove-it face.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian scoffed and Ominis rolled his eyes, deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Then the dungeon doors burst open.

A thick cloud of green smoke billowed out, sending students stumbling and coughing into the corridor. And in the center of it all, a group of very, very green Ravenclaws.

They clawed at their own skin, staring down at their hands in absolute horror. Their faces were the exact shade of an overripe toadstool, splotchy and uneven, and every time they opened their mouths, their tongues flopped out two inches too long.

Hysteria ensued.

Students gasped, some shrieked, others tried not to laugh. Professor Sharp stormed out after them, looking beyond exhausted, already massaging his temples.

“I told you,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “not to add the peppermint extract.”

“WE DIDN’T!” One Ravenclaw wailed, voice garbled from their too-long tongue. “I—I don’t know what happened! We did everything right!”

Sharp did not look convinced.

Sebastian looked at you, long and slow, a glint of admiration dawning in his eyes.

“Did you—”

“I did nothing.” You walked past him, as if the entire debacle were none of your concern. “I was with you all day, wasn’t I?”

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “Yeah, but—”

“No proof, no crime.” You gave him a cheerful smile before stepping into the classroom.

Sebastian grinned. “Oh, I love you.”

It was offhanded, thoughtless, a casual jest, but it sent a sharp, pleasant warmth down your spine.

You didn’t react, though. Just smirked, settling into your seat. Because the message had been sent.

And Ominis Gaunt would never hear a word against his name again.

The Anne Incident

Rumors at Hogwarts were a force of nature.

They swirled through the halls, slipping between whispered conversations and behind cupped hands, growing more twisted with each retelling.

Some were harmless—who was dating who, which professor had it out for which student, the occasional Did you hear Peeves stole all the ink from the Ravenclaws again? But some? Some were cruel.

And this one... this one was about Anne Sallow.

It started at breakfast, when you overheard a group of Slytherin sixth-years in the Great Hall. You weren’t eavesdropping—not intentionally—but you had a habit of noticing things, of hearing too much when you weren’t meant to.

"Did you hear about Sallow’s sister?"

"Yeah, I heard she went mad."

"Lost it completely. The curse must’ve rotted her brain."

"That’s why she left, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I heard she tried to hex someone in her sleep—"

Your fork warped in your grasp. A slow, controlled bend beneath your fingers, the metal bending in your grip.

Across from you, Sebastian had gone still.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t react. Didn’t give them the satisfaction.

But you saw the way his jaw clenched. The way his hand curled into a fist against the table. The way his entire body had gone taut, locked in place by sheer force of will.

He wouldn’t do anything.

Not because he didn’t want to. Not because he wasn’t capable of it—because he was.

Sebastian Sallow could be ruthless. You knew that better than anyone. You’d seen it firsthand, the sharp edges of his temper, the way his rage burned hot and all-consuming, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake. You’d seen what happened when he felt cornered, when he thought he was out of options.

But he wasn’t that boy anymore. Because you and Ominis had dragged him back from the brink. Because you had looked him in the eye, years ago, when the dust had settled and the worst of it was over, and told him:

"You still have a future. Don’t throw it away."

Against all odds, he had listened. And now, this was his last year at Hogwarts and he was going to be an Auror. He was going to start over. Prove that he wasn’t just some reckless, violent delinquent one step away from Azkaban.

So no—he wouldn’t react. He wouldn’t take the bait. Wouldn't defend Anne, no matter how badly he wanted to. Wouldn’t let himself be dragged down into the same pit he’d barely crawled out of.

Sebastian was playing the long game.

But you? You weren’t.

Your revenge on Anne's behalf started small. Almost imperceptible.

The first Slytherin—the one who had started the conversation in the first place—was walking to class when it happened.

A single misstep.

His foot caught on something—thin air, perhaps—and he staggered forward, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to right himself. It didn’t work. His books went flying, parchment scattered across the stone corridor, and a bottle of ink tumbled from his bag, shattering upon impact and staining his robes in an ugly, irreversible mess of black.

A small accident. An unfortunate case of bad luck.

No one thought anything of it—until the second one fell.

In the exact same spot.

And then the third. And the fourth.

By the time lunch rolled around, all four of them had tripped at least half a dozen times each.

It wasn’t just limited to the corridor, either. They stumbled on staircases, barely catching themselves before they could go tumbling down. They walked straight into walls as if the castle itself had turned against them. One even managed to trip over absolutely nothing in the middle of the Great Hall and landed face-first into his own soup.

The snickers started soon after. The sideways glances. The poorly hidden laughter from classmates who found their sudden clumsiness far too entertaining.

It wasn’t enough to be suspicious.

Not yet.

Not until the moving staircase.

The ringleader of the group had spent too much time lingering in the courtyard after lunch, chatting up a group of girls who barely tolerated his presence. He realized too late that he was running behind and bolted toward Charms, racing up the moving staircases with zero grace and even less caution.

And then his foot caught.

There was nothing there. No loose stone or shift in the staircase, nothing at all to explain why he suddenly lost his footing.

But he did.

He stumbled backward, arms flailing wildly, fingers grasping at empty air as the momentum carried him too far—

And he plummeted.

Three flights.

A blur of robes and limbs, a crash of bone against stone, and then a sickening thud as he landed in a groaning, crumpled heap at the bottom.

A hush fell over the corridor.

Then—

Shrieking.

His friends rushed down to him, voices panicked, eyes wide with horrified realization as they took in his bruised, trembling form.

A girl ran to fetch Madam Blainey.

By the time she arrived, he was whimpering, clutching his arm like it might’ve snapped.

Hospital Wing. Immediate bed rest.

No one could explain what happened. No professor could find a cause. Some students claimed the stairs had shifted unexpectedly. Others swore that they saw nothing—no trick step, no loose stones, just an unseen force pulling him down.

It didn’t matter.

The moment he was carried off, you finally allowed yourself to smile.

Not a smirk. Not a grin. Just the smallest, most satisfied twitch of your lips.

Sebastian caught it. Because of course he did. He had been standing beside you the whole time. Silent. Still. Watching from the moment that asshole Slytherin stumbled earlier that morning to the moment he was carted off for medical attention.

And now? Now, he just exhaled, long and slow, shaking his head as his mouth curved into something unreadable.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, voice low.

You hummed, tilting your head in faux curiosity. “Am I?”

Sebastian turned fully then, facing you. His gaze searched your face, for guilt perhaps. For remorse. For something that might suggest you hadn’t meant for it to happen.

But there was nothing.

No trace of hesitation. No flicker of shame.

You were calm, collected, an completely unapologetic. Because nobody talked about Anne Sallow like that without consequence.

Sebastian blinked. Then, to your absolute delight, he grinned. Wide. Slow. A sharp, wicked thing.

“Yeah. You're very dangerous” he said, almost in awe.

Your stomach twisted. You ignored it. Instead, you just shrugged, voice as casual as ever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian’s grin deepened.

The Poppy Incident

Poppy Sweeting was one of the best people you knew.

Kind-hearted, patient, and too good for the world, really. She spent more time in the company of magical creatures than she did with most people, and honestly? You couldn't blame her.

Because people could be cruel.

You first heard it one afternoon in the courtyard. A group of girls whispering amongst themselves, giggling behind their hands. You hadn’t been paying much attention—until you heard her name.

"Honestly, she’s weird."

"I know, right? It’s like she’d rather date a bloody Hippogriff than an actual person."

"Wouldn’t be surprised if she actually has."

Laughter, sharp and mocking. Like Poppy Sweeting was a joke. Like she was less than because she chose kindness over cruelty, creatures over people who didn’t deserve her time in the first place.

You turned your head and watched as one girl—a Hufflepuff, ironically—rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exaggerated exasperation.

"Beast-lover," she muttered, nose wrinkled like the word itself was distasteful. "It's unnatural, really. No wonder she doesn't have any friends outside of her precious Mooncalves."

Something cold and sharp settled in your chest.

You had no doubt Poppy had heard it. She was standing just a few paces away near the fountain, hands clenched tight at her sides.

She didn’t react. Didn’t turn. Didn’t say anything. She just exhaled, slow and quiet, like she was forcing herself to let it go.

You wouldn’t.

The next morning, that very same Hufflepuff woke up covered in fur.

Not all over, just her face.

A thick, fluffy coat of golden-brown fuzz, soft as a Puffskein, sprouting in wild patches across her forehead, cheeks, and chin.

According to Poppy, the screams started immediately, and the entire girls dormitory had woken up to it.

The girl, who turned out to be a fifth-year, had flown into a hysterical panic, shrieking as she bolted for a mirror, hands frantically scrubbing at her face like she could rub the fur away.

She couldn’t.

It was a very specific hex. One that lasted exactly one week.

Professor Ronen was baffled.

Madam Blainey was thoroughly fascinated.

And Professor Howin, bless her, had cooed over her like she was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. You had a front row seat to the entire thing during Beasts class.

“This is truly fascinating,” she’d said, holding the girl’s chin and turning her face slightly toward the light. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen transfiguration manifest quite like this! And so soft—feels just like a Kneazle’s coat, doesn’t it?”

The best part? It wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t painful. Just… humiliating.

You considered it a job well done.

When Howin had dismissed you for lunch, Poppy pulled you aside. She didn't say anything at first. Just stared.

You blinked at her, tilting your head. “Everything alright?”

Poppy squinted. Narrowed her eyes slightly. Huffed.

"You did that, didn’t you?"

You blinked again.

Because Poppy—sweet, gentle, pacifist Poppy—did not accuse people of things. Which meant she was completely certain.

You just smiled, giving her your most innocent expression. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Poppy just sighed, shaking her head. But then—just for a moment—she smiled.

Small. Subtle. Grateful.

Like she knew exactly what you’d done. Like she knew there was no use arguing, no point in telling you not to go to such lengths for her.

And then, without a word, she reached out and squeezed your hand.

The Natsai Incident

You had never liked Callum Thorne.

Seventh-year. Gryffindor. Arrogant. Loud-mouthed. The kind of person who had never been told no in his life and walked through Hogwarts like the world owed him something.

You’d tolerated him for years, mostly because you hadn’t needed to interact with him much. But this? This was different.

You were starting the day with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hecat had yet to arrive, leaving the class unsupervised and giving Thorne the perfect opportunity to make a scene.

Natty was speaking with Poppy near the front of the room, voice calm as she explained something about the Ministry’s policies on magical creatures in Africa compared to Britain. She wasn’t being loud, wasn’t even arguing, just explaining.

That’s when Thorne scoffed.

“Merlin’s sake, Onai, give it a rest,” he sneered from the back of the room, tossing his quill onto his desk with an exaggerated huff. “Do you ever get tired of standing on that bloody soapbox of yours?”

The room went still.

Natty turned, slow and deliberate, her expression unreadable, regarding him with that same poised, unshaken calm that made her such a force to be reckoned with.

“I was simply having a discussion,” she said smoothly. “No one is forcing you to listen, Thorne.”

“Right,” he drawled. “Except you never shut up about it. Always talking about ‘justice’ and ‘change’ like you think you’re going to fix the whole bloody world.” He smirked. “News flash, Onai—no one cares.”

A few of his friends chuckled.

Your fingernails dug into your palm.

Natty didn’t react—not outwardly, anyway. She just exhaled, slow and measured, and turned back to Poppy like his words had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

You? You were already plotting his downfall, and luckily, Callum Thorne was a creature of habit.

He always stayed out after curfew to flirt with whatever unfortunate girl he had chosen that week, and he always went up to the Astronomy Tower afterwards with his friends to play cards and drink whatever contraband alcohol they’d smuggled into the castle.

Which made him the perfect target.

That night, as the seventh-year tidied up the cards, stretching and yawning, likely already thinking about his warm bed waiting for him—

His legs froze in place. Not a Full Body-Bind. No, this was different.

A soft, subtle hex. A slow, creeping sensation, his feet adhering to the stone beneath him, then his calves, then his thighs.

By the time he realized something was wrong, it was too late.

He tried to step forward—failed. Tried to yank himself free—failed.

And then—with agonizing slowness—his entire body began to lift off the ground. No warning. No control.

He drifted upward, weightless, helpless, arms flailing as the stone ceiling came closer and closer—

And then, with a soft thump, he was stuck. Face-down, body pressed flat against the Astronomy Tower ceiling.

His screaming started immediately.

Loud. Panicked. A complete meltdown.

His friends, who had started their walk down the tower came bolting back up the stairs at the sound of his shouting.

“What the—?” one of them started, eyes wide as they gawked at the ceiling.

“Thorne?” another asked, dumbfounded.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back laughter as you hid beneath your disillusionment charm.

“GET ME DOWN!” Thorne bellowed, arms and legs flailing uselessly against the stone. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?”

His friends stared, uselessly waving their wands, muttering counterspells that only resulted in Thorne spinning in slow circles, howling in distress.

When they realized they were utterly helpless, panic completely set in.

“What do we do?” one of them asked, looking between the others with wild eyes. “Should we get a professor?”

Thorne snarled. “NO! DO NOT—”

But it was too late. Because at that very moment, the Astronomy Tower door swung open once again, and a very tired, very unimpressed Professor Shah stepped inside.

There was a long, painful beat of silence.

Shah took in the scene.

The stack of contraband firewhiskey bottles on the table. The panicked seventh-years, wands still drawn, looking entirely too guilty. And Callum Thorne, still face-down, circling against the ceiling, hissing every curse word known to wizardkind.

She sighed, long and slow, as if she had simply had enough of this entire generation of students. Then, with an effortless flick of her wand, she cast a single spell.

And gravity returned. All at once. Thorne plummeted like a sack of bricks.

The landing was spectacular. A glorious, sprawling heap, limbs tangled, robes askew, one shoe missing entirely. His friends didn’t even try to catch him.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then—

“Hospital Wing,” Shah said simply, rubbing her temples. “Now.”

Thorne was half-carried, half-dragged down the tower steps, groaning the entire way.

And you?

You slept soundly that night.

By morning, half the school had heard the story.

"Did you hear about Thorne? Got stuck to the Astronomy Tower ceiling last night."

"He was crying by the time they got him down."

"Serves him right—bloke’s a complete asshole."

And you? You sat perfectly composed at breakfast, casually stirring your tea, listening as his friends panicked about who could have done it.

Sebastian, of course, knew.

He sat beside you, arms folded, lips pressed together, shaking with the effort not to laugh.

Finally, he exhaled, tilting his head toward you.

“You are actually unhinged,” he murmured, utterly delighted.

You simply sipped your tea. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Across the hall, Natty smiled.

Soft. Knowing.

The Sebastian Incident

You had been careful.

For years, you had woven your revenge into the shadows, never once leaving a trace of your involvement in the strange misfortunes that befell those who dared to insult your friends. You were precise, patient, undetectable.

But everyone has a breaking point. And yours? Yours was Sebastian Sallow.

It happened in the Great Hall when Scorpius Malfoy decided to idiotically open his big fucking mouth.

You hadn’t been paying attention to him at first. Why would you? People like Malfoy had never mattered to you. He was just another spoiled pureblood, another self-important waste of a surname who thought his words carried weight simply because he could afford to say them.

But then his voice cut through the din, and he said Sebastian’s name.

"No family name worth a damn, no money, no influence. Honestly, I don’t even know why the professors still put up with Sallow. And he’s an orphan, isn’t he?"

One of his friends nodded, grinning like this was some kind of joke. Like Sebastian Sallow’s entire life was nothing more than a punchline.

Malfoy snorted. "So he's got dead parents, a dead uncle, and a crippled sister who’ll probably never set foot in the wizarding world again. Wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up rotting in the same gutter he came from."

The words landed like a curse.

Sebastian had been mid-conversation with you, fork in hand, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he teased you about something inconsequential—some throwaway joke that would have normally earned him an eye roll and a shove.

But now? Now, he wasn’t moving. Not speaking. Not breathing. Just silent.

Rigid.

Like the weight of those words had turned him into stone.

And something inside you snapped.

It was almost funny, in retrospect, how much effort you had spent perfecting the art of subtlety.

Every step you had taken over the years had been measured, every spell carefully woven into the fabric of coincidence, every act of vengeance so meticulously placed that no one had ever been able to definitively trace it back to you. You had built a flawless reputation, balancing on the razor’s edge between brilliance and menace, justice and mystery.

But now? Now, as you rose from your seat, you weren’t careful at all.

You didn’t move like a shadow, didn’t cloak yourself in misdirection or the comfort of silence. No. This time, you wanted them to see you.

And the moment you stood, the Great Hall stilled.

Students stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped moving altogether. The clatter of plates and goblets faded into a thick, suffocating silence, as if even the walls of Hogwarts itself were holding their breath.

Your voice came out low. Cold.

"Say that one more time, Malfoy."

Scorpius turned lazily, like he hadn’t a care in the world. Like he hadn’t just spat on Sebastian’s entire existence for no other reason than because he could.

And he smirked. Merlin, he smirked. Like you were some insignificant thing, an insect buzzing too close to his ear.

“Oh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “Touched a nerve, have I? Which part got to you, I wonder? The fact that Sallow’s got no family? Or the part where I pointed out that he’s got no future either?”

You took a step forward. You could hear Ominis hissing at you to stop, to think about what you were doing before you got yourself deep into shit, gut you couldn't. Not when it came to your friends.

Not when it came to Sebastian.

Especially when he still hadn't moved. Hadn’t reacted. Hadn’t so much as breathed.

Your hand tightened around your wand, the weight of it comforting, grounding, an extension of the fury curling in your chest.

"You should tread carefully, Scorpius," you murmured, your voice smooth, edged with something lethal. "I know you think you're clever—that you can say whatever you like without consequence, just because you were born into the right family."

Your head tilted slightly, gaze sharp, cutting straight through him.

"But you should know something about me by now."

Malfoy’s smirk faltered just slightly. And then, before he could open his mouth again—

You flicked your wand.

Hard. Fast.

Malfoy's goblet exploded.

A concussive blast of magic sent shards flying, the remnants of his beverage splattering across his pristine uniform like spilled blood. A jagged edge of glass sliced across his hand, thin but deep, and he flinched, eyes snapping down to it with genuine shock.

"If you're going to run your mouth about my friends," you said coolly, watching him clutch his bleeding hand, "then you should be prepared to suffer for it."

Your next spell came before he could react. Before anyone could stop you.

A sharp twist of your wrist, and his mouth was gone.

Not silenced. Not muffled. Just… gone. Smooth, unbroken skin where lips should be, like his voice had simply been erased from existence.

The realization hit him immediately.

His hands shot to his face, clawing at his skin, a muffled scream—horrified, panicked—rising in his throat. He lurched backward, knocking into one of his friends, fingers digging at face like he could carve his lips back into place.

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

You needed something that would etch itself into the bones of this castle, into the minds of every single person watching in stunned silence. Something that told the whole goddamn school that if they so much as breathed wrong about Sebastian again, you would ruin them.

A simple hex would be too merciful. A standard jinx—something temporary, something easily countered—wouldn’t send the right message.

No, you needed something else. Something only you could undo.

Your wand rose, fingers tightening around the handle.

A familiar thrumming sensation curled through your bones, crackling at your fingertips, humming beneath your skin like a storm about to break. Ancient magic—the power that had followed you since the day you first stepped foot in Hogwarts, the magic that had made you different. You had never used it publicly. Never allowed yourself to tap into it in a room full of hundreds of witnesses.

Until now.

Malfoy’s body lurched.

Not by his own will, but by yours, by the ancient, crackling force curling through your veins.

The entire room gasped as he was wrenched upward, his robes twisting violently around him as though an invisible hand had grabbed him by the throat and hauled him into the sky.

He thrashed, or tried to, but the moment he moved, the spell struck.

A jolt of electricity tore through his body.

Not enough to kill. Not enough to cause permanent harm, but enough to make him scream. Or at least, he would have screamed—if he still had a mouth.

Instead, a choked, garbled sound tore from his throat, half agony, half suffocated panic, his limbs seizing as the current snapped down his spine, through his arms and legs.

And you let them watch, let the entire Great Hall bear witness as he hung there, suspended like some grotesque marionette.

And the moment he tried to move again, tried to scratch at where his mouth should be or flail his limbs, another arc of lightning danced across his body, snapping against his skin like a promise that any attempt to fight this would only make it worse.

And he knew. They all knew. He wasn’t getting down until you allowed it. But your arm didn’t waver, you held your wand high, like an executioner delivering final judgment.

Because this? This was a declaration. A statement. A message carved into the very bones of Hogwarts itself.

You do not speak against Sebastian Sallow.

You wondered if he realized that you would have done this a thousand times over. That you would have burned the entire goddamn world for him if he asked.

But before you could do anything more—before you could decide how far you were willing to take this—

A thunderous voice shattered the moment.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

The spell snapped. Malfoy dropped. His body crashed onto the table below, sending plates and goblets scattering, silverware clattering to the stone floor. He lay there, twitching, gasping, pathetically small as the last of the magic flickered out of his limbs.

And then—

"You."

Phineas Nigellus Black’s voice was pure ice.

You turned to face him—not a shred of regret, not a flicker of guilt in your expression.

But the Headmaster was raging. His hands were clenched at his sides, his teeth bared in fury.

The entire room was still. Waiting. Holding its breath.

"My office." His voice was low, lethal, like the words themselves were a curse. "Now."

A sharp inhale from someone at the Ravenclaw table. A hushed whisper from a terrified first-year.

No detention. No points docked. Just a direct order from the highest authority in the school.

But it was worth it, because now they knew. Every single person in this room knew.

And as you turned on your heel, heart still pounding with the remnants of power buzzing in your veins—

You caught Sebastian’s eyes one last time.

Still watching, still frozen in place, yet looking at you like you were the most devastating, impossible, extraordinary thing he had ever seen.

And then? The slightest smirk. The most faint, devastatingly admiring grin.

Like he had never, ever wanted anyone more.

[vortexbloom]

I just had the funniest idea, how would the HSR men react to their child's first word being a curse word, someone cursed while they were near the child.

Sounds Interesting hehe 😉

Btw I decided to pick some HSR men myself, since you didn’t specifically say wich characters you wanted.

But of course, you can tell me if you have a certain character in mind 😘

I also did it a bit different, but I hope you still like it 😅

Your child‘s first word is a curse word (Separate OneShots)

Pairing: Sampo Koski/Boothill/Jing Yuan x Female Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Curse Words, fluff

☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆

Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ☆

English isn’t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

It was supposed to be a sweet moment. Your child, barely a year old, had been babbling for weeks, and you and Sampo had been eagerly waiting to hear their first real word. Would it be "Mama"? Maybe "Papa"? Something cute and wholesome?

And then, out of nowhere, your child looked up at you both, smiled sweetly, and—

"Shit!"

Silence.

You froze. Sampo, sitting across the room, nearly choked on his drink. The baby giggled as if they had just said the most normal thing in the world.

"…Sampo." Your voice was dangerously calm as you turned to your husband, who was now failing spectacularly at hiding his amusement.

"W-Whoa now, sweetheart," he said, hands raised in mock surrender, his lips twitching. "Let’s not jump to conclusions. I mean, kids pick up words from all kinds of places…"

You crossed your arms. "And I wonder where our child could’ve possibly learned that one."

Sampo cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. "Uh… maybe from me? Maybe not? Could be the wind, really! You know, the way words just kinda float through the air…"

Your glare intensified.

Sampo sighed, finally dropping the act and rubbing his temples. "Alright, alright. So maybe I might have, uh, let a few choice words slip now and then." He glanced at your child, who was now happily babbling nonsense, completely unaware of the chaos they’d just caused. "But, hey, at least the kid’s got good pronunciation, huh?"

"Sampo."

"Right, not the point." He grinned sheepishly and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Tell you what—I’ll be real careful from now on. No more bad words from ol’ Sampo. Pinky promise."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what about the fact that our child’s first word wasn’t ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa’ but—"

"Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it up to you," he said quickly, waving you off before picking up your child. "Alright, little buddy, let’s try something else. Say 'Dad-da' C’mon, you can do it."

Your child blinked up at him, then grinned mischievously.

"…Shit!"

Sampo snorted, immediately turning away so you wouldn’t see him laugh. You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This was going to be a long parenting journey.

The evening was peaceful in your little home, a rare moment of calm. You were rocking your child in your arms, their bright little eyes staring up at you as they cooed and babbled. Boothill sat nearby, his hat tipped slightly forward, watching with his usual laid-back grin.

You had been waiting for this moment for weeks. Your child had been making little sounds, but now…now was the time for their first real word.

And then, with the sweetest little voice—

"Damn."

Silence.

You slowly turned your head to look at Boothill. He blinked once, then pushed his hat up slightly to meet your stare. "Well, I’ll be damned."

"Boothill." Your voice was a warning.

He chuckled, shifting in his chair. "Aw, c’mon now, sugar. That’s a mighty fine word choice for a first, don’tcha think? Real strong. Real decisive."

"Booth, our child’s first word was a curse word," you said, exasperated.

He tilted his head, smirking. "Technically, 'damn' ain’t that bad. I mean, coulda been worse. Coulda been somethin’ I say when I get real mad."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Where do you think they even heard that from?"

Boothill leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Now, darlin’, we both know who they got it from." He tipped his head toward himself with a smirk. "Ain’t no use pretendin’ otherwise."

You shot him a glare. "And you’re proud of this?"

He laughed, standing up and walking over to you. "A little," he admitted, placing a hand on your shoulder. "But, tell ya what—I’ll make sure their second word’s a little more…parent-approved."

Boothill then leaned down to your child, who was still staring up at him with innocent curiosity. "Alright, sugarcube, how ‘bout somethin’ different? Try 'Mama.'"

Your child blinked, gurgled, then—

"Damn."

Boothill let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, shoot. Looks like this one’s got my spirit."

You groaned, covering your face with one hand while Boothill, entirely unbothered, took the baby into his arms. "Ain’t no worry, sweetheart. I’ll teach ‘em all the right words. Just…might take some time."

You sighed. You should have expected this. Raising a kid with Boothill was bound to be interesting, to say the least.

The grand hall of your home was unusually quiet, save for the soft crackling of incense and the distant hum of Xianzhou’s city life. Jing Yuan sat beside you, his long silver hair slightly tousled from a day of work, his golden eyes half-lidded with relaxation. Your child, nestled comfortably in his lap, babbled happily—small, incoherent sounds that made your heart swell.

For weeks, you had both been waiting for this moment. Jing Yuan, ever the patient and composed general, had taken his time encouraging your child to speak. He had whispered gentle words, taught them simple names, and had even placed small bets with you on what their first word would be.

"Perhaps it will be 'Daddy' or 'Mommy,'" he had mused one evening, a lazy smile on his lips. "Or maybe something amusing, like 'nap,' given how much they see me resting with them."

And now, finally, the moment arrived. Your child looked up at him with bright, eager eyes, opened their tiny mouth, and said—

"Fuck."

Silence.

You stared. Jing Yuan blinked. The baby giggled, seemingly proud of themselves.

"…Hm." The general cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the child as if that would somehow reset reality. "I see."

You pressed your fingers against your temple, exhaling sharply. "Jing Yuan."

He turned his gaze towards you, his expression unreadable—except for the unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. "Now, my dear, let’s not be too hasty in placing blame."

You crossed your arms. "Who do you think they learned that from?"

He sighed, but his smirk betrayed him. "Admittedly…there may have been a few instances where I expressed my frustration in less-than-graceful terms."

"Oh? A few instances?"

Jing Yuan chuckled, shifting your child so they were facing him properly. "My little star," he said softly, his voice full of warmth, "how about we try something else? Perhaps 'Daddy'? Or 'Mommy'?"

Your child tilted their head, as if considering, before gleefully repeating, "Fuck!"

Jing Yuan, the great and respected Cloud Knight General, sighed in resignation. "This…is quite the predicament."

You smirked. "What happened to all that wisdom and patience? You look defeated, General."

He let out a deep chuckle, placing a hand over his forehead in mock exhaustion. "This may very well be my most humbling battle yet."

You reached over, gently taking your child from him, shaking your head with amusement. "Well, you get to fix it."

Jing Yuan smiled, watching as the baby clung to you happily. He leaned back, arms crossed, eyes twinkling with something unreadable.

"Of course," he murmured, voice filled with amusement and something softer—something utterly devoted. "But regardless of the words they choose…they are still our greatest treasure."

And despite yourself, despite the chaos and the mischief, you couldn’t help but agree.

Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

[bahablastplz]

Battleground: Minho x Reader

Prompt: "Hii, i was wondering in you could write a one shot of alpha!minho x Alpha!afab. They met through their friend/roommate Jisung who is an omega, and they are enemies and Jisung has to break up their fights, but this one time they end up having sex while fighting for dominance." Content: Smut, angst, omegaverse, enemies to lovers, switch/dom Minho, switch reader, alpha reader/alpha Minho, afab!reader WC: 5000 Note: hi yes I got carried away with this but this was super fun to write. enjoy!

˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

You should have never trusted Jisung. This is often a motto of yours, actually, seeing as he’s responsible for nine out of every ten instances of trouble you find yourself in. But he has big pleading eyes and he can be so convincing that you throw caution to the wind every time he speaks. 

You needed a new roommate. Your old one bailed on you (thank god, because she was actually the worst). She was filthy and never cleaned up after herself. She left dishes in the sink, piles of trash for you to take care of, and was blatantly rude. You let out a sigh of relief when she told you she was moving and it took all of two days for her to fuck off for no apparent reason. She left your life as violently as she entered it, however, leaving piles and piles of her junk for you to take care of as well as half of the rent once again. 

You wish that you could lie and say that you could afford it by yourself but you simply couldn’t. It was just too far out of your spending limits and so… you needed to find a new place to live. 

When Jisung suggested you come to live in his spare bedroom, it really didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. You knew the omega well enough; he wasn’t the cleanest in the world but he’s a step up from your old roommate for sure. Plus he was one of your closest friends. If anything, you knew you would feel comfortable around him. The only reason you had hesitated at first is because everybody always tells you not to live with your friends. Somehow you doubted this would be an issue with Jisung though. 

It would be fine, right? You’ve heard only good things about his other roommate, Minho. Jisung jokingly refers to him as his platonic soulmate sometimes but you don’t really know anything else about him. You were a little weary about sharing a living space with two omegas and all, being an alpha yourself, but you were no asshole alpha. They would have nothing to worry about. 

Once again, you should have never trusted Han Jisung. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

“What are you doing? You’re going to scare her away!” You hear through the door of the apartment. You’re a little unsure when you hear muffled shouting and you feel an uneasiness in your stomach that you ignore but you can’t help to continue to listen. “Why are you acting like you don’t want her here?” 

“Because I don’t. We don’t know her!”

“You don’t know her. I know her perfectly well and you should trust my judgment.” You use this as the opportunity to knock on the door which swings open to a wide-eyed Jisung. He looks guilty of something and you’re confused before it hits you all at once. 

The apartment reeks of cinnamon. Every crevice and corner is dripping of the strong smell to the point you can hardly smell Jisung’s vanilla, even if you really focus. That’s when you come to the realization that Jisung’s roommate isn’t an omega… He’s an alpha. One intentionally covering the whole apartment with his smell before he even gets to know you to assert his dominance. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes at the stereotypical alpha behavior and you resist the urge to cover your nose at the smell. Just because Minho is being rude doesn’t mean you need to be rude in return. 

And before you can even say anything to greet him, he’s walking away and slamming his door shut. You give Jisung a look and he’s already looking at you apologetically. 

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I really am. He’s not usually like this, I swear. I don’t know what’s going on–” 

“Jisung,” you interrupt. “You never told me he was an alpha in the first place!” 

His mouth opens slightly in a small ‘o’ shape. “I didn’t?” 

You sigh at him and take a deep breath. “Just help me with these boxes, okay?” And as if he’s eager to be back on your good side, he helps you without a fuss. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

It’s two entire days before you even see Minho again. It agitates your own alpha, really, knowing that there’s someone else in your living space you haven’t gotten a proper chance to meet and scope out. But you’ve finally gotten yourself settled into your space and you have to admit it’s nice being so close to Jisung all the time. 

You stumble out of your room after an afternoon nap to find him cooking in the kitchen. It takes you by surprise, honestly, because for someone who has already tried to be so stereotypically alpha, it just seems like a very… omegan activity. You tell yourself it’s not polite to pass judgments on someone you hardly know, especially regarding their secondary gender, so you don’t say a word about it. You do, however, make an attempt to properly introduce yourself.

“Hello,” you say lightly. Minho’s shoulders tense up for a second before they relax. “I’m Y/N.” He doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything. You make a face from behind him, where he can’t see you. What is his deal? You lean against the wall, trying to think of a way to make conversation. If this were anybody else, you wouldn’t bother but… you’re doing this for Jisung, after all. This is supposed to be one of his closest friends aside from you. “How long have you known Jisung for?” you try. 

“Longer than you,” he scoffs. This catches you off guard as you’re not quite sure what to make of the statement. Is he trying to be possessive over the omega or is he just trying to show you that he’s winning whatever competition this is? 

“Oh. How long would that be? I’ve only known him for two years or so, but we’ve grown really close–” Minho finally spins around and you make eye contact for the first time. His harsh gaze is the first thing you really notice about him, his feline eyes sharp as they stare daggers into you. He’s very pretty, you note, and it almost pisses you off even more. How can someone so attractive be such an asshole? 

“You’re not my friend,” he says, pointing a wooden spoon at you threateningly. “This was my space first and you have no right to intrude and try to be buddy-buddy with me. I don’t know you.” His words are blunt, to the point. He turns back around and… god, he’s trying to assert dominance again by shutting you up and ending the conversation here! Better yet, his cinnamon scent spikes and swirls around the room, haunting you. 

You won’t retaliate with your own scent. You’re better than that. But that doesn’t mean you’ll let some alpha think he’s better than you and shut you up without a fight. “Who’s fault is that?” you spit. Minho freezes so you continue. “Who’s fault is it that you don’t know me, hmm? I never asked to be your friend, Minho. But I’m not here to intrude and I’m not here to take over your territory and become the new head-alpha, okay? I’m here because Jisung invited me. I’m here because I need a place to live! Is it really so fucking bad to think that maybe you can be civil with me? Instead you’ve been defensive since the second I walked through that door!” Your anger is spiking and you need to get control of yourself before you explode on him. You turn around and slam your door shut before you can say anymore. 

Once on your bed you fight the urge to punch something. You certainly let yourself get riled up fast. It annoys you that someone you don’t even know has this sort of effect on you. But you close your eyes and will the anger away, telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, it’ll get better. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

It doesn’t get better. It gets a whole lot worse, actually. Your first movie-night in with Jisung you actually get nauseous with how much he reeks of Minho. 

“Jesus, Sung,” you tell him. “It smells like you rolled around with him right before you came into my room.” 

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. It’s so hard to be mad at him. It really is. “He’s been extra clingy lately for some reason.” 

“For some reason,” you grumble. You know exactly why. “He’s trying to intimidate me to stay away from you, probably.” 

“What? Minho would never do that!” he says. You glare at him and he cowers down immediately. “I don’t know what’s going on with him,” he admits. 

“I’m tired of him making me feel like I’m the crazy one here! Everyone I talk to shoots praises out of their ass for him and meanwhile, I’m public enemy number one. I seriously don’t know what his issue is with me and I’m getting sick and tired of everyone telling me what a great person he is!” you rant rather loudly, ending with a great sigh. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Jisung asks. You feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Yes, I have,” you tell him. “Multiple times. Each one ends in an argument or one of us storming off. I just can’t figure out what his deal is.” 

“Maybe–” 

“Sung, let’s just watch the movie, okay? I’m starting to get irritated and you’re not the one I’m upset with.” 

He concedes and snuggles in a bit closer to you, pressing play on the laptop. If you discreetly try to cover him in your own ginger scent? That’s between you and the moon goddess. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

You find yourself in the midst of some sort of war and you’re on the losing side. Lee Minho has made it his life mission to inconvenience or irritate you in any way he can. 

Exhibit A: One morning you find yourself running late for class and you open your door just to trip over a conveniently placed pile of his shoes. Cursing his name in your head, you grab your backpack and run out the front door, just narrowly making it in time for the professor to start talking. Fast forward to the end of class when you pull out your folder just to realize that said folder is nowhere to be seen. Your homework which you spent over an hour on the previous night has vanished, gaining you a zero on the assignment. You’re sure you’re seeing red when you get home and your folder is on the kitchen counter.  

“I don’t know what game you think we’re playing, but sabotaging my grades is going too fucking far, Lee!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he sips on a cup of coffee. You fight the urge to throw it in his face. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to make me late for class and hide my folder!” you say, waving the folder in his face. He looks irritated but it’s no match for how you feel. 

“Your belongings are not my responsibility,” he says with an eye roll. “Next time maybe don’t misplace your stuff.” You leave because you’re not confident in your ability not to punch him. 

Exhibit B: Poor Jisung has tried to set up an apartment movie night. It’s a good idea, in theory, to try to get some supervised bonding. Jisung even sits right in the middle, anxiously picking at his nails the entire movie. That’s only after Minho accuses you of burning the popcorn and fighting with you over which movie to watch. Jisung ends up picking it. It was going well until he stretched his legs out over Jisung’s lap and into your space. You shove his feet off of you faster than he put them up. The action makes him almost fall off the couch and spill his soda all over himself and Jisung. 

The omega stands up covered in soda and huffs. “I give up!” he cries out in exasperation. 

“It’s her fault for pushing me–” 

“Give it a fucking rest!” you cry out. 

Everybody ends up in their respective rooms that night. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

 You didn’t want to go to this party. You really didn’t but you figured that you owe Jisung big time for turning his apartment into a warzone. The omega already has social anxiety and doesn’t love parties himself so you promised you would tag along. 

Minho is here too. You tell yourself you won’t interact with him but you keep catching his eyes from across the room. Deep down you hope that maybe the alcohol will mellow him down a bit and make him more tolerable. And maybe you use alcohol as a coping mechanism this one night. You’re stressed and a walking ball of tension every second of each day, not even able to relax in your own apartment. 

You always have an eye on Jisung when you party together. But you indulge in some tipsy flirting for once. This guy is super cute, after all… freckled face, long blond hair that frames his face, and a deep, sensual voice that makes you giggle and fawn over him. You amp up the usual techniques, touching his arm and laughing at all of his jokes. And when he leans in close enough that you feel his breath on your neck you don’t stop him. 

But somebody else does. 

One second you're bracing yourself for a drunken kiss and the next a hand is wrapped tightly around your arm, pulling you away. You smell burnt cinnamon before you even realize what happened and the anger that bubbles in your chest is unlike any you’ve ever felt before. You retaliate just as fast with an overwhelming mix of ginger that smells so strong it burns your nose. Before you can yell you’re being pushed out the door and into the cold of the night. 

“What the fuck was that,” you spit at Minho. You yank your arm out of his grip. 

“We’re leaving,” he tells you. 

“Like hell we are! You don’t get a say of who I spend my time with or when I decide to leave.” 

“I get a say when you’re making idiotic choices,” he answers, voice low. He spins you around until you’re pinned against the wall and his skin burns hot against yours. 

“No, you don’t. You’ve made yourself loud and clear that you don’t give a fuck about me. My bad choices are mine to make, Minho, not yours.” 

“You’re not thinking straight,” he tells you once he finally lets go. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “Felix… he’s… I know him from my dance studio, okay? Just.. trust me and don’t go home with him. You can’t kiss him. Not Felix.”

“From your dance studio? Wow, ladies and gentlemen! Lee Minho has revealed exactly one thing about himself! He’s a dancer!” you say with mock surprise. You stumble a bit and Minho steadies you by your waist. It only serves to piss you off even more. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” he asks. It’s probably the softest you’ve ever heard his voice yet. 

“No. I think I’m going to go kiss Felix and you can go fuck off,” you protest. You cross your arms and you look away from him because his cheeks are also flushed from drinking and he worries his lips between his teeth so you can’t stand to see it. 

He takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I swear to god you’re going to walk home with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and bring you home myself.”

Before you snap back at him about how ridiculous he’s being, the door opens and Jisung steps out. “Guys?” he questions, looking back and forth between the two of you. You’re breathing heavily and your fists are clenched but your anger dissipates the second you see the disappointed look on Jisung’s face. He wanted you here to keep him company. To soothe his social anxiety and to prove that you could be there for him, to show up for him like old time’s sake. And just like that, the adrenaline high slowly fades when you realize you’ve let him down. Anger turns to sorrow and guilt and god, no you won’t let Minho see you cry but you bury your face into Jisung’s neck. You whisper an apology and tell him you want to go home. 

You can’t help but feel like Minho has won this round, in some roundabout twisted way. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

You avoid leaving your room for the next day. You don’t really feel like you’re deserving of wallowing in your own sorrow, especially since the one who is impacted here is Jisung, not you. You’ve let him down. You don’t get to mope. So… what you’re doing is avoiding. Avoiding Minho and therefore avoiding any more conflict. 

It’s the next day you leave your room. You notice the scent of vanilla a little more sweet than normal and when you knock on Jisung’s door you notice he’s nesting. A mixture of your clothes and Minho’s are piled in his bed and you feel a pang of guilt in your chest. 

“You okay?” you ask. If Jisung is in preheat and you’ve avoided him for the past 24 hours, he’s probably feeling pretty antsy. He does let out a breath of relief when he sees you though and brings you in for a hug. 

But of course your timing is unfortunate because Minho unlocks the front door at that very moment. When he sees you in Jisung’s arms he growls, causing you and the omega to stiffen. Minho crosses the room in seconds and the smell of cinnamon behind you gets stronger. 

“Off,” he says low into your ear. You have half the mind to snap at him but Jisung’s vanilla scent burns. You back off, giving Jisung a small nod before disappearing to your room. The last thing you want to do is distress Jisung further just before he starts his heat. This needs to stop. It needs to end. 

Jisung leaves the next day to spend his heat in a hotel. Despite the apartment being more comfortable for him, the unit isn’t equipped to deal with the overwhelming scent of heats and ruts. You couldn’t afford a scent complaint fee. Jisung doesn’t complain as you help him pack his bags and you even help him into the hotel room. You offer your best support in helping him rebuild his nest though you don’t have the same omegan instincts as he does. 

“I’m sorry again,” you tell him before you leave. “For everything. With Minho. It’s… we’ll work it out. Okay? Love you Sung.” 

He gives you a sad smile. His heat should start by the morning, you would guess. You just hope he can be comfortable and not worry too much about you and Minho. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

Minho is standing anxiously by the door when you get home. You half expect him to crowd you against the wall but he doesn’t, eyes glued to the floor instead. 

“You smell like him,” he tells you. 

“Yes Minho,” you reply sarcastically. “It’s like I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. Jisung is my friend too. You don’t have to act all possessive of him all the time.” 

He hums. You feel your blood boil again. How does he get you so worked up to the point of your heart pumping a mile a minute every time you see him? 

“Minho. Be honest,” you start. He finally looks up at you. You can’t read his face. Your alpha goes back and forth between wanting to pounce on him and run away in fear. You need to do what you think is right. “Do you want me to move out?” 

You aren’t expecting his reaction. You expect him to laugh in your face. You expect him to be overjoyed. But instead he seems shocked. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean what? Don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted from the very beginning. You win, okay? I concede. You want your space? You want to be the only alpha again? This is it. This is your opportunity. I’m offering you a way out now. No more fighting. No more upsetting Jisung. If you want me gone, just say the word. Please. I’ll leave.” 

“Don’t.” 

“What?” You almost think you’ve misheard him but he takes a step closer and he looks at you with pleading eyes. “What is your gameplan then? Why make me miserable since the second I move in? Argue with me, tell me who I can and can’t kiss, for god’s sake make me fail a fucking assignment? If you don’t want me fucking gone, Minho, what the fuck do you want–” 

You’re cut off by his lips clashing against yours so hard your head would have hit your head against the wall if not for Minho’s hands holding you as if you’re something precious. Your teeth clank together but you’re breathing him in and reciprocating his affection just as violently as he gives it. When his tongue enters your mouth and you taste cinnamon you realize you’ve never hated the smell, never hated him… He kisses into you like he needs you to breathe, like he’s been in the desert and you’re his oasis. 

You’re not sure that a kiss has ever felt like this before. You think for a moment that you might not be able to kiss anyone again after this, everyone and everything lacklustre compared to Minho. Minho. Minho. Nobody has ever and will ever make you feel this burning, boiling… hatred? lust? desire? Whatever it is you feel, you’re not sure it could be replicated. 

When you wrap your leg around his waist he grabs under your knee, hoisting you against the wall. His mouth is all over you and he explores every inch of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. Your hands take purchase on his shoulders, in his hair, you’re not sure but you want to feel every inch of him there is to explore. Cinnamon has never smelled so sweet.

Minho brings you into his bedroom and it’s the first time you’ve stepped foot into his space but you don’t take the time to look around. In fact, the only thing you notice is that his comforter is soft, soft against your back as he throws you onto his bed. Your clothes are all but shredded from your body and if you had claws you would have used them to get every inch of useless fabric off of Lee Minho’s body. It makes you angry that he’s still clothed, so angry that you forgo pleasure in replacement of ripping the clothes off of him harshly. He grins. He has that smug fucking grin on his face you want to wipe off and you kiss his stupid lips again. This time when you kiss you’re both completely naked and every part of your body that touches his is scalding. 

When you sit on his lap your bare pussy slides along his cock and you both groan. His hands are on your hips and in desperation you both move back and forth. Every time his cock catches on your entrance you both let out a hitched breath but neither of you can stop. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna knot you, you know that? I’m gonna fuck you so full and then knot you so that everybody knows you’re mine,” he pants as he ruts his cock against you desperately. Is this just another way for him to stake his claim over you? To show that he’s the true alpha? Oh hell no.

“You’re such an asshole,” you tell him with a hiss when he finally slides into you. He’s big. You already knew this from the (not so) dry humping just moments ago but it still pisses you off when he stretches you nice and full. “Stupid asshole alpha with a stupid big cock.” 

When he looks up at you it’s with adoration and it throws you off. His eyes gleam and his teeth are caught against his bottom lip in a sultry grin. He plants his feet against his bed and thrusts up into you hard and fast–you almost fall because you have no time to plant your hands anywhere for balance. But the almighty perfect Minho catches you before you fall because of course he does. His hands on your waist only hold you in place to give him the opportunity to fuck up into you with more force and the wet sounds that come from between your bodies are filthy… but only serves to turn you on even more. 

“You were saying about me being an asshole?” he asks. His voice is breathy and low and you fucking hate how much you love it. 

“If all you wanted was to fuck me this bad you didn’t have to act like such a dick,” you say through tight lips. Okay. You’re trying not to moan, to give him that satisfaction. Who could blame you? “You only made me hate you more.” 

“Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “It wasn’t on purpose… didn’t like you at first but all of a sudden it turned to lust and… can’t you feel what you do to me?” He punctuates his point with a harsh thrust and fuck, you vaguely remember him mentioning he was a dancer. Perfect body, perfect hips and thighs made just to fuck you like this. 

“How you treated me wasn’t fair,” you tell him. You need him to know and you’re lowering your hips, trapping your legs under his so he can’t bounce you up and down on his cock anymore. Your hand snakes up to his throat and takes purchase there, watching the way he gulps and his eyes turn heavy at the action. You feel a burning satisfaction at the way his hips buck into you involuntarily when you squeeze slightly. “Say it,” you coo. “I want to hear you admit to me that you know you treated me poorly.” 

You expect a fight from him because, let’s be honest, Minho always puts up a fight with you. But any ounce of opposition leaves his body the second his eyes meet yours. He looks regretful. He looks small. “I treated you poorly,” he tells you. His eyes never leave yours. “I acted like a child because I had feelings for you that were misplaced. I liked you from the beginning and I… fuck, I didn’t know how to deal with that and I pushed you away. I wanted you to hate me.” 

The confession that spills past his lips is the last thing you’re expecting him to say. Your grip on his neck falters and he uses his stupidly impressive core strength to sit up, bringing your lips into a kiss. It isn’t explosive, it isn’t word-changing, but it is sweet and apologetic and very Minho. 

He places you on your back and resumes his pace, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders. At this angle he reaches deep inside you and the first time you gasp he resumes his brutal, relentless pace. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna knot you, please let me knot this pretty pussy,” he pleads. The first time he said it it was a demand; this time he asks from his soul, baring it to you and giving you ample time and opportunity to reject it. 

“Yes,” you moan. But if he’s going to claim you as his from the inside out, the least you could do is return the favor. And so you scratch Minho, raking your nails down his back until they’re sure to leave a mark. And when you’re both on the precipice you bite down onto his shoulder hard, just inches away from his scent gland. It’s not a mating bite but it is a mark, a claim. You suck hard into the bite just as he finishes, his knot expanding and catching on your entrance. You don’t release your mouth from his skin until he’s done pulsing inside you but to your surprise, he doesn’t stop moving his hips. Despite his knot locking you in place he grinds his hips into yours in small circles, putting pressure right onto your clit with his pubic bone. It’s too much, the stimulation of your clit, his knot, and the thick head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside you causing you to cum around him hard with a cry. 

You feel as if you’ve been electrocuted, little shocks going through your whole body with every wave of your orgasm. You almost wish he was bad in bed, if just to keep your dignity and tell him that he wasn’t all that. But with the gutteral noises he dispelled from your body, lying would just be a farce. 

When you’ve both finally calmed down and his knot finally deflates, you half expect him to kick you out of his room. You’ve built up your walls so high around him that it’s hard to imagine him treating you any other way. You’re anxious for sure, moreso at yourself for allowing yourself to be so hopeful. But Minho rolls over and grabs you, holding you close to his chest. Even when you squirm he doesn’t dare to let you go. 

“I really am sorry,” he tells you. A murmur into your hair. “I don’t want you to move out. I’m sorry for treating you the way I did. My alpha thought… that because we like you that maybe asserting our dominance would make you like us more. I know that’s illogical and just sounds  like an excuse but…” 

“I forgive you,” you tell him. “Well… maybe I don’t forgive you just yet. But I can if you prove to me that you’re done with the macho asshole alpha act. No more being possessive over Jisung. My friend by the way! Still haven’t gotten over that. And no more sabotaging my grades.” You shoot him a glare and he only looks at you sheepishly. Harsh looks turn into soft stares and all of a sudden he’s kissing you again. Your tension has already begun to melt away. You begin to see the charm of the Lee Minho everybody has told you about and you think, maybe… just maybe everything will be okay now. 

“I think we owe Jisung a gift,” Minho whispers into your hair. 

“I think we owe him a hundred gifts,” you wince. 

“He’s not going to believe his fucking mind when he gets back.” You laugh so hard your stomach begins to hurt. You think maybe you like the way Minho looks when he smiles. You think maybe you really like the way cinnamon and ginger smell together. You think maybe you could get used to kissing Minho and that burning, bubbly feeling in your stomach agrees. 

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

[blairxbear]

When they realise they are in love with you.

MHA Class 1A Head cannons

Izuku Midoriya

• He doesn’t realize it at first—it hits him like a train when someone else points it out.

• You’re patching up his wounds after a battle, scolding him like usual, and he just stares at you.

• “They care about me so much… I don’t ever want to lose them.”

• That’s when it clicks—his face turns beet red, and he literally short-circuits trying to process it.

• He starts writing about you in his notebooks, not just as a hero, but as his hero.

• Tries to confess a dozen times but ends up stammering and running away.

Katsuki Bakugo

• He freaking hates it when he realizes he’s in love.

• He notices he gets jealous when you talk to others too casually.

• He starts training even harder because he wants to be stronger for you.

• The moment it fully hits him? You defend him from someone bad-mouthing him, and his chest tightens.

• “Shit… I don’t just like them. I love them.”

• He won’t say it out loud but becomes insanely protective overnight.

• If someone flirts with you, he glares daggers and pulls you closer.

• His confession is awkward but genuine—probably blurts out “I love you, okay?! Now deal with it!”

Shoto Todoroki

• Love isn’t something he understands right away—it’s foreign but comforting.

• He notices he trusts you more than anyone else and actually wants to be around you.

• One day, you brush a strand of hair from his face, and his heart skips a beat.

• “Why does my chest feel warm? Is this…?”

• He spends weeks thinking about what this feeling means.

• His father’s influence made him fear attachment, but with you, he feels safe.

• He realizes he loves you when he catches himself smiling for no reason just because you exist.

• When he confesses, it’s simple but deeply meaningful—“I think I love you. No, I know I do.”

Eijiro Kirishima

• He’s the type to fall fast and hard, but he won’t admit it until it hits him like an explosion.

• You do something small but meaningful, like fixing his hair or remembering his favorite drink, and suddenly, he’s melting.

• His brain just goes: “Oh no. Oh NO. I LOVE THEM.”

• The moment he realizes it, he becomes the most obvious person alive—grinning like an idiot, blushing when you compliment him.

• Denki figures it out first and teases him relentlessly.

• He confesses spontaneously—probably during training or when you’re just hanging out.

• “Hey… I, uh, love you. Like, really love you.”

Denki Kaminari

• He thinks he’s just crushing on you, but one night, you laugh at one of his dumb jokes, and his heart flips.

• “Wait… why do I want to make them laugh forever?”

• He starts noticing the little things—the way your eyes sparkle, the way you say his name.

• Suddenly, every love song reminds him of you.

• He realizes he loves you when you comfort him after a bad day, holding his hand without judgment.

• He panics—freaks out and tells Sero before he even tells you.

• Ends up blurting it out without thinking—probably during a sparring session.

• “Oh, shit—did I just say that out loud? …Well, I meant it.”

Henta Sero

• Realizes it slowly but surely—love creeps up on him like his tape until it’s wrapped around his heart.

• It happens during a casual hangout, maybe when you’re laughing at one of his dumb jokes.

• “Damn, I’d do anything to hear that laugh every day.”

• His friends notice before he does because he starts bringing you up in every conversation.

• “Oh, Y/N likes that movie too!” “Y/N would totally win this game.”

• When he realizes, he’s cool about it but lowkey dying inside.

• He confesses casually but sweetly, probably while sharing a snack.

• “So… I’m kinda in love with you. Thought you should know.”

Fumikage Tokoyami

• He doesn’t see it as love at first—he calls it “a deep admiration”.

• Dark Shadow calls him out first: “Dude, you’re OBSESSED.”

• He realizes he loves you when he misses you more than he should.

• The thought of you being hurt makes his blood run cold—he becomes fiercely protective.

• He confesses in a poetic and dramatic way—probably quotes some gothic literature.

• “My heart, once shrouded in darkness, now finds solace in you.”

• He’s nervous about whether you’ll accept him, but when you do, he’s deeply devoted.

Tenya Iida

• Love is logical to him, so he doesn’t understand why his brain short-circuits around you.

• Realizes it when he starts worrying about you more than necessary.

• “Are they drinking enough water? Did they eat today? Should I check on them?”

• The real moment? You tell him to relax, placing a hand on his arm, and suddenly, his heart is racing.

• He denies it at first—tries to rationalize it.

• But one day, you cheer for him in a match, and it clicks—he wants you by his side forever.

• His confession is formal but flustered—“I have come to the realization that I love you. I hope you will accept my feelings.”

Mashirao Ojiro

• He falls first but doesn’t say anything—he’s the quiet type about his feelings.

• The moment he realizes? Sparring with you, when you pin him down and smirk.

• “Oh, I’m completely in love with them.”

• He acts normal but becomes a little more protective, a little more soft-spoken around you.

• His tail wags when you’re near, and he hates that everyone notices.

• He confesses simply but sincerely—probably under the stars or after training.

• “I love you. I don’t need anything back, I just wanted you to know.”

Mezo Shoji

• Realizes it when he starts looking forward to your voice every day.

• He’s always been reserved, but you make him feel safe.

• The moment he knows? You tell him he’s beautiful, and he nearly chokes on air.

• “They… they actually see me.”

• His confession is quiet but meaningful—probably late at night when you’re alone.

• “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this. I think… no, I know I love you.”

Rikido Sato

• He realizes he’s in love while baking—he catches himself making extra portions just for you, even when you’re not around.

• One day, you sneak into the kitchen to help, and he watches you struggle with frosting a cupcake.

• Instead of laughing, he just smiles fondly and thinks, “I want to do this with them forever.”

• The moment it really clicks is when you try his baking and get so excited, giving him the biggest grin.

• His heart pounds, and suddenly, the sweetest thing in the room isn’t the cake.

• Becomes super flustered around you after that, fumbling with ingredients and spacing out.

• His confession is adorably shy, probably over a homemade dessert.

• “I, uh… I made this for you. And also, I think I love you.”

Koji Koda

• He falls slowly but deeply, and it takes a while for him to understand his feelings.

• He realizes it when he notices the way animals react to you—his rabbits love you, birds always fly near, and even skittish animals trust you.

• One day, you rescue a tiny injured bird, and as he watches you care for it so gently, his heart swells.

• “They’re so kind… I never want to leave their side.”

• The next time you smile at him, his whole face turns red, and he gets so nervous he forgets how to talk.

• Starts getting extra shy around you, but his actions speak louder—always carrying things for you, making sure you’re safe, sitting near you quietly.

• His confession is soft but heartfelt, maybe while watching the sunset with you.

• “I… I think I love you. You make my world so much brighter.”

[nameless-jamie]

hi 👋 I thought of an idea for your valentine’s day prompt list, if you don’t mind. 😇🤭 maybe the reader has a strong hatred for valentine’s day, and now that the reader has a boyfriend (jamie ofc), he tries to go all out for the reader, the whole nine yards. he tries to convince her that the holiday isn’t so bad after all. lots of fluff!!! love ur blog and ur pieces ofc!

Love Actually (Kinda Sucks)

Valentine's Day Special - Day 4 (2|2)

Jamie Tartt x girlfriend reader

Masterlist Valentine' Special

TW: cursing, kissing

A/N: Hi I like you request so much I've turned this whole day into a two valentines day story day!

Valentine’s Day was a scam.

That had always been Y/N’s stance. A holiday designed to trick people into thinking love could be measured in chocolates, overpriced roses, and corny Hallmark cards. The forced romance, the fake gestures—it all felt insincere.

And Jamie knew this.

She had told him multiple times, with increasing intensity, that she wanted nothing to do with it.

“No Valentine’s Day shit,” she had warned a week ago, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Jamie had raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “No Valentine’s Day shit.”

“You mean it?”

“Babe.” He had placed a solemn hand over his heart. “Swear on me mum’s life.”

And yet.

On the morning of February 14th, Y/N woke to the smell of something burning.

Of course, Jamie Tartt never did anything the easy way.

Her eyes snapped open. She sat up, already feeling dread settle in her stomach. She barely had time to process before she heard Jamie’s voice—muffled, followed by the distinct sound of something clattering to the floor.

She groaned, dragging herself out of bed and making her way to the kitchen.

Jamie stood in the kitchen, frowning at a pan filled with what could possibly have once been food. He had an apron tied around his waist—her apron, just an apron, the one that said Kiss the Cook in obnoxiously large letters. Nothing else on!!!!!

He was, standing in front of the stove, furrowing his brows at his... attempt at breakfast. Smoke curled from the pan as Jamie prodded at a very, very charred pancake with a spatula.

"What the hell is that?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps and broke into a wide grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe!”

Y/N blinked, unimpressed. “Jamie.”

“I know, I know,” he said, waving the spatula around like it was a magic wand. “You hate Valentine’s Day. But I just thought… maybe it don’t have to be so bad?”

“Jamie. We talked about this.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You literally repeated it back to me. ‘No Valentine’s Day shit.’”

“I remember,” he said, unbothered. “No Valentine’s Day shit. But I was thinkin’—what if it weren’t shit? What if it were just… nice?”

“Does this look nice to you?” She gave him a look. Then gestured at the pan. “Not off to a great start, are you?”

Jamie looked down at the burnt mess, then back at her. “Alright, so, breakfast might be a a little fucked. But the rest of the day? It’s gonna be brilliant, proper class, babe. Just trust me.”

“Jamie—”

“Nope,” he cut her off, tossing the spatula into the sink (where it almost landed correctly). “No arguing. Put on something comfy. We’re goin’ out.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose, already resigned to the fact that Jamie wasn’t going to let this go. And, as much as she wanted to protest… well, she was a little curious. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

Jamie grinned. “Not a chance.”

The day unfolded in a way she hadn’t expected.

She had expected something over the top—maybe a restaurant with a Valentine’s Day prix fixe menu or one of those grand romantic gestures that made her want to gag.

Instead, Jamie took her to the café she loved, the one tucked away on a quiet street with mismatched furniture and warm lighting. The barista greeted her by name, and Jamie didn’t even ask what she wanted—he just ordered it for her, exactly right.

Then, he dragged her into a bookstore, telling her to pick out whatever she wanted, even though he very obviously judged her taste in mystery novels.

Jamie, naturally, got distracted and ended up in the football section, but he made a big show of really thinking about what book he should get, flipping through pages with exaggerated nods.

“Babe,” he said, holding up a thick novel with a smirk. “I reckon I’ll start readin’ philosophy. Really get some depth to me.”

She snorted. “You? Reading philosophy?”

“Yeah, why not?” He flipped open the book, squinting at the text. “Bet I’d be well profound.”

“You don’t even read the teams group chat, Jamie.”

“Maybe that’s ‘cause the group chat’s full of nonsense.” He held up the book dramatically. “This is wisdom.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, Socrates, get the book.”

Jamie, looking very pleased with himself, added it to his pile. He even insisted on carrying all of her books, even though he kept dropping them.

After the bookstore, he took her to a cat café—despite the fact that he was mildly allergic. (which he kept reminding her every five minutes)

“These little fuckers are adorable,” he mumbled, stroking a particularly fluffy tabby that had made itself comfortable on his lap. His eyes were slightly watery, and he sniffled every few minutes.

Y/N watched him, something warm spreading in her chest.

Maybe—just maybe—she was starting to see where this was going.

The final surprise came when they got back to her apartment.

The living room had been transformed. Soft fairy lights twinkled along the walls, casting a warm glow over the couch, which was now covered in pillows and blankets. The coffee table was stacked with her favorite snacks, and next to the TV was a selection of movies.

Jamie plopped onto the couch, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Alright, last surprise—movie marathon. No rom-coms, I promise.”

Y/N blinked. “You actually listened?”

“‘Course I listened,” Jamie said, tugging her down onto the couch beside him. “Just ‘cause I think Valentine’s Day is kinda sweet don’t mean I gotta force it on ya.”

She stared at him.

Jamie, who had gone to a cat café despite his allergies. Jamie, who had let her wander a bookstore for an hour, carrying all her books without complaint. Jamie, who had—without saying it outright—spent the entire day showing her that love wasn’t about the clichés, the flowers, or the overpriced nonsense.

It was just about… this.

Him.

Them.

Her throat felt tight.

Maybe—just maybe—Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.

Jamie nudged her. “You alright, love?”

She swallowed, then sighed dramatically, covering up whatever that feeling was. “Fine. Let's watch one of those rom-coms you like, though. Gotta do it, it's Valentine's Day... But if one sappy unrealistic scene comes on, I’m turning it off.”

Jamie smirked. “Deal.”

BONUS:

At some point during the movie, Y/N must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, she was waking up to the feeling of Jamie’s fingers tracing gentle patterns along her arm. The screen was paused, casting a soft glow over the living room.

She shifted slightly, realizing she was fully curled into him, her head tucked against his chest, his arms securely around her.

Jamie noticed she was awake and murmured, “Hey, love.”

His voice was softer now, quieter, like he didn’t want to break whatever fragile moment had settled between them.

Y/N blinked sleepily. “Did I miss anything?”

Jamie grinned. “Yeah. Some bloke made a big speech about love or whatever. Real sappy stuff. You would’ve hated it.”

She scoffed, but it came out weaker than she intended.

Jamie hesitated for a second before tilting his head, studying her. “D’you really hate all this?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically careful.

She swallowed. She should say yes. That would be the simple answer, the easy answer.

But then she thought about the café. The bookstore. The way he had suffered through the cat café even though he was definitely still sniffling from it.

The way he had spent the entire day trying to show her—not with flowers or clichés, but with thoughtfulness—that love wasn’t about the holiday at all.

It was just about them.

She exhaled, her fingers tightening around the fabric of his hoodie. “I don’t hate this,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just hate… what it’s supposed to be, you know? The pressure. The whole idea that one day of grand gestures is supposed to make up for the rest of the year.”

Jamie was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I get that.”

She lifted her head slightly, looking up at him. “But… you’re different.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Yeah?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to it. “Don’t let it go to your head, Tartt.”

“Too late,” he said, grinning as he nudged her playfully. But then his voice softened again. “I just wanted to show you it don’t have to be all that stupid, performative shit. Just wanted to—y’know—make sure you knew you were loved.”

Her heart clenched.

Jamie, for all his arrogance, his teasing, his over-the-top nature, had never made love feel like something she had to perform for.

It had always just been there. Simple. Easy. Unspoken, but so obvious in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

She swallowed hard, then reached up, cupping his jaw. “I do know,” she said quietly.

And then she kissed him.

Jamie made a soft noise of surprise, but it melted quickly into something softer, his arms pulling her in closer.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, warm, lingering—like he was savoring every second. Like he wanted to make sure she knew exactly what he was feeling.

When they finally pulled apart, Jamie rested his forehead against hers, his eyes half-lidded and dazed. “Dunno if I’ve ever been this jealous of a cat before,” he muttered, still slightly breathless.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“The cat,” Jamie said. “From earlier. He got to sit on your lap for, like, ages.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You absolute idiot.”

But Jamie was grinning, pulling her in again, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “But you still chose me.”

She sighed dramatically, settling back against him, tucking herself closer. “Unfortunately.”

Jamie’s arms tightened around her.

Outside, the city buzzed with the usual Valentine’s Day nonsense—restaurants filled with couples, florists selling out of roses, overplayed love songs drifting through the streets.

But inside, wrapped up in Jamie’s arms, Y/N had to admit—maybe, just maybe, love wasn’t so bad after all.

[lostintheuniverseslies]

I've been reading a lot of whump!Buck fics and it's been raining here so this came to mind. Hope you enjoy!

Buck is lying on the ground in the rain, staring up at a sky that’s somehow too bright for such a gloomy day. His mind scrambles to catch up. Why is he on the ground? Why does his body feel like it doesn’t belong to him? His breath rattles in his chest, uneven and wet, and though he knows something bad happened, he can’t quite piece it together. 

Then, pain crashes into him like fire. It floods every inch of his body, crushing, suffocating. His chest screams with every shallow breath, his ribs aching as if they’re caving in. 

Somewhere close, someone is talking—frantic, desperate—but not to him. No, they’re talking to someone else. A dispatcher, probably. 9-1-1. 

He’s been here before. Close to death too many times to count. But this time? This time feels different. Final. 

He’s accomplished almost everything he wanted to in life. His sister is happy, married to an amazing man, and building the family she always dreamed of. And Buck? He found the love of his life. He just wishes he could have spent forever with them. 

But that’s life, he supposes. 

He has no regrets.

That thought should scare him. It doesn’t. 

A strange, eerie peace settles over him, maybe because the pain is fading. Or maybe because everything—the rain, the voices, the world—feels like it’s happening miles away.

His breaths come slower, weaker. Keeping his eyes open is a battle he’s losing. And deep down, he knows. This is it. He’s lived a good life. He can let go, knowing the people he loves will be okay. They’ll grieve, they’ll hurt, but they’ll get through it. 

All except maybe one.

Even though they broke up, Buck knows the news of his death will tear Tommy apart. And the thought of him grieving alone is the one thing that makes this unbearable. 

With the last dredges of his strength, he fumbles for his phone. His fingers feel sluggish, barely responsive, but muscle memory guides him. 

One number. 

The one he’s resisted calling, the one he swore he’d never dial again. 

It rings.

And rings.

And rings—until the voicemail picks up. 

“Tommy,” Buck rasps.

His voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a whisper. The wheeze in his breath is unmistakable. Tommy will hear it. He’ll know. 

“Don’t shut them out again, okay?”

Buck swallows against the burn in his throat. His chest is so tight. He blinks, and suddenly there are tears in his eyes. Not for himself. For Tommy. For the image of him pushing everyone away, hurting alone. 

“You’re allowed to let them be there for you. Please–Please let them be there for you.” 

The wheezing worsens. Buck isn’t sure how much longer he has. He forces out the words that matter most. 

“I love you.” A shaky breath. “I hope you know that. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

His lips twitch, not quite a smile, as his mind supplies an image of Tommy: kind, gentle, sharp-tongued, funny, sassy. So damn easy to love. 

“You deserve to be loved.” His voice cracks. “I really hope you find the person you’re meant to spend your life with. No matter what you think, I’m grateful. So grateful. That you were my first, and my last.”

He wants to say more. One more ���I love you.’ One more goodbye. 

But his fingers are numb. His grip slackens. He’s pretty sure the phone slips from his hand, but he doesn’t hear it hit the ground.

He doesn’t fight it anymore.

He said everything he needed to say.

So Buck, feeling the most peace he’s ever known, closes his eyes—hoping Tommy and his family will be okay. 

he's not dead I PROMISE. I'm considering writing a Tommy POV of when he checks his voicemail 🤷‍♀️

[lydiasfalling]

SWEET CREATURE !

percy jackson x aphrodite! reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : use of y/n, nothing else really ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

happy valentine’s day everyone! hope you guys enjoy this. could possibly make this a series if it’s liked enough. love ya!!!

walking around camp half blood at this time of year seemed to mock you. the fellow aphrodite’s kids seemed to be focused on finding a valentine. now, dot get it twisted. you wanted a valentine. bad. the only problem with this was, well, your intense and completely obvious crush on percy jackson. something about his confidence and charismatic aura drew you in and ruined you for anyone and everyone else.

there was another problem with this. percy jackson happened to be your best friend. you had tried everything to get these feelings to go away. dating other camp members, having different flings, setting percy up with other people, and tartarus, you even had people give you love potions. nothing worked. it was getting unbearable for everyone surrounding the two of you. in particular, annabeth and grover seemed the most annoyed.

the pair had also tried to help you guys understand how perfect you two would be together. however, you and him both refused any sort of insinuation of romance. it’s not that you didn’t want to be with him. quite the opposite, actually. you just didn’t see the point of wasting your friendship by risking him not feeling the same way. keeping him close as a friend was better than loosing him.

infact, you had encouraged him to ask another camp member out. this led you to your current predicament, watching him as he walked with kailey ( a girl from cabin five ). this had been his choice—he insisted she was ‘interesting enough’. you could see by the look on his face that he didn’t truly enjoy her company all that much.

“ya know, this could all be avoided if you just told him how you feel.” annabeth said from next to you, throwing a pointed look in your direction. you chose to ignore the sarcastic tone of her voice as she spoke.

“how i feel? i feel like he’s my best friend and i can’t jeopardize that. they look to be having fun.” the second sentence came out as if you were trying to convince yourself as well.

as if the universe wanted to mock you more, percy and kailey made their way over to you. annabeth looked at you, praying that you noticed the bored look on percy’s face. you gave her a look as to say ‘stop it’ before turning to shoot a smile in the direction of the approaching pair. kailey seemed to have a permanent scowl on her face while percy’s expression shifted upon seeing you. his uninterested features changed to those of contentment when your smile entered his vision.

“hey, y/n!” percy’s pace increased the closer he got to you, leaving kailey slightly behind him.

“hey, perce. kailey.” you nodded in her direction, warranting an eye-roll from the girl. “what’re you guys up to?”

“just, ya know. walking around. sat at the dock for a little bit.” percy responded. him and kailey stood an unusual distance away from eachother.

“percy, im gonna go. come fine me when you’re done with. . . this.” kailey rolled her eyes for what seemed like tenth time in the short period that she stood there. she brushed his arm slightly before turning and walking away.

“well isn’t she just a ray of sunshine.” annabeth snorted, laughing slightly.

percy agreed quickly, “she’s. . . something. that’s for sure.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“not feeling it?” you asked. he shook his head no, moving to sit next to you. his arm quickly fell over your shoulders.

this made annabeth abruptly stand up. “well, as much as i would love so stay and chat, i have shit to do. see you two later?”

“mhm. later!” percy said.

“bye, annie!” you added. as the girl walked away, you turned in percy’s direction. “is she really that terrible?” you asked.

“she’s . . . okay, i guess. not really my type.” his arm fell from your shoulders, hand moving to hold your own instead. this was something percy had developed on the numerous quests you two had gone on together. his need for physical closeness was something that many found annoying, but you found endearing.

“oh yeah? and what might your type be classified as?” you laughed.

“oh, ya know. i like a girl who’s smart, kind, funny, caring. all the usual things. i also like a girl who sets me up on dates with other people because she doesn’t realize i’m hopelessly in love with her. that’s my ideal woman.” he shrugged as if it were nothing.

your jaw had officially found the floor. “i—i’m sorry. . . what?” you were sure you had heard him wrong.

“you know what i said, y/n.” percy’s face turned serious as he turned his entire boy towards you.

“do i? because it sounds a lot like a confession.” you tried to lighten the situation, laughing slightly before halting.

“y/n, you’re making this extremely hard for me.” percy’s face had begun to turn a shade of crimson.

“how so?” you kept a serious face, struggling not to crack a smile.

“y/n. . . i’m completely and utterly in love with you. the way you laugh, the way you smile, the way you laugh again because, dam, i love that sound, the way you twirl the strand of hair by your ear when you’re nervous, the way you stick your tongue out slightly when you’re focused. i love the way that you talk about your niche interests and the way that you always put up with my bullshit. i love how deeply you care about everyone, even the people who don’t deserve it. i love the contentment in your eyes when we’re sitting at the beach. i love you because you’re you, and that’s the best person you can be.” percy didn’t once break eye contact through his speech.

it was official. this was the first time in your like that you had been rendered completely speechless. your palms became sweaty and your heart was racing. being a child of aphrodite normally meant you reacted better to love situations. this didn’t help you much now, though. instead, the only thing you could think of doing in that moment was leaning forward to connect your lips.

it wasn’t beautiful or a ‘sparks fly’ moment. it was quick and chaste, you moving away as quickly as you moved forward. once you pulled away, you looked percy in the eyes. his expression had shifted from one of fear to hunger. his hand came up, finding the back of your neck and pulling you into him again. his lips were warm and soft against yours. he tasted of sea salt and blue pancakes, a combination that only percy jackson could pull off. his free hand found it way to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

once the two of you could no longer breathe, you both pulled away at a slow pace. he kept his forehead against yours.

“gods, i have been waiting a millennia to do that.” percy laughed, kissing your cheek. his head moved from yours to the crook of your neck.

“me too, perseus.” your hand reached up, lacing itself into his hair.

“fucking finally! gods, i was starting to loose hope!” grover said, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

“me too, honestly.” percy spoke, lifting his head to look at grover.

“you too?” you asked, confused.

“y/n, you’re literally the only person who didn’t know about percy’s massive crush.” grover explained.

you averted your gaze towards percy, who shrugged in confirmation. your face heated up. safe to say that you had managed to find yourself a valentine, though kailey from cabin five wasn’t too happy.

my masterlist

taglist : @lydiascabinsix @cowboylikemac @laufeysvalentine @raysmayhem-72

[cheekinpermission]

How would the twst bois react if they found Erin keeps those flowers?

The question you answered, only said that not many know, it didn't mean no one else knows. Who knows? (Besides Rollo)

https://www.tumblr.com/cheekinpermission/772579719018315776/15-what-is-a-secret-not-many-characters-know

Oooh, good question!

I imagine most of them wouldn’t be too happy about it, especially the ones who were actually at the masquerade 

Erin kept the fire lotuses for self-defense. That might bring up some feelings of betrayal, especially for those who are closer to her. It not only implies that she doesn’t want to depend on them to protect her (which is true), but that she might also consider them to be a threat to her safety (not as true). 

For those closest to her…

Ace / Deuce / Riddle - Ace and Deuce seem pretty obvious to me being that they are her closest friends, but I brought up Riddle specifically because of the way I developed their relationship. The artwork I draw of them is usually pretty wholesome and sweet (hanging out with the hedgehogs), but what I haven’t shown is what it took to get to that point. They did not get along in the beginning for obvious reasons. Erin was still settling into NRC when all of a sudden some temperamental short stack on a power trip starts making his problems her problems. She’s just trying to keep her head down and get through whatever this was when all of a sudden she had to go collect chestnuts to bake a tart so that guy with the heart over his eye would stop crashing on her couch. Riddle overblots and it's her first one so it left quite the impression on her (and not a good one). She was kinda scared of him for a while afterwards. She didn’t really know how overblots worked at that time and she had it in her head that he might overblot again if he got too angry. Riddle set the record straight, they investigated the whole situation over at Savanclaw, and they eventually mended fences. All of that was to say that keeping the flowers might bring Riddle right back to that point in time when Erin felt threatened by him. Yikes.

(I would love to draw a full comic of them one day but I’m just biased because I love Riddle lmao)

Kalim - He has this tendency to kind of blow off his problems? He’ll start to bring something up, but then laugh and quickly change the subject. It’d probably be much the same here. He’d say how he understands and everything is fine but would be lowkey hurt by it. 

Vil - “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” energy. 

Malleus - Hit bro pretty hard. People have theorized that the fire lotuses could straight up just kill fae (as opposed to just draining a person’s magic indefinitely) so… yikes. This was his one friend who SUPPOSEDLY wasn’t scared of him. Erin was the only one who wasn’t shaken by his regal status or his powerful magic and what not. Was that all a lie? (No.)

Grim - Sooooooo Grim didn’t know. Erin didn’t want to tell him for a few reasons. 1) Grim isn’t exactly subtle and she wasn’t sure if he could keep his mouth shut about it. 2) Grim’s goal is to be the greatest mage of all time. He’d definitely oppose having flowers around that could threaten that goal. 3) Most importantly, she didn’t want him to face the fallout if they were ever found. In her mind, Erin was protecting Grim. She knew that this would be an unpopular decision. For all she knew, it could threaten their enrollment at the school. She didn’t want Grim to face the repercussions. It was her decision and it was for her safety - he didn’t need to be caught in the crossfire. He’d definitely be the most hurt by it. They’re supposed to be in this together!

Most of them will probably at least recognize why she did it. Between the overblots and the kidnappings and the human trafficking (jfc twst)... having something to protect herself against magic isn’t a bad idea. MAYBE JUST NOT THE FLOWERS THAT CAN PERMANENTLY ALTER THEIR LIVES. This all could’ve been circumvented if she just, I don’t know, opened up a little about her concerns? Ever think of that, Erin?! 

They definitely wouldn’t let her keep them after they found out. They’re far too dangerous and risk growing out of control (despite Erin’s insistence that she has them contained). She’d be forced to get rid of them, face some kind of punishment from the headmaster, and be ostracized by her peers for a while.

So who knew? 

Rollo - As you’ve pointed out, Rollo knows. He’d obviously be on board and he’s a great source of knowledge on how to take care of them properly.

The Ramshackle Ghosts - I feel like hiding anything in Ramshackle is just kind of impossible without them knowing? She can lock them away and hide the key, but how is that going to stop them from phasing through the walls? It won’t. They know and they reluctantly keep the secret. They do care for her as well and let that influence their decision. 

That’s it lol. Just them. 

Ortho might catch on that something fishy is going on if he ever, like, scans the building or something and is like “tf is that weird magic energy I’m picking up?” but the flowers were supposed to be extinct so there’s no existing database to draw from. Tbh he might be the catalyst that gets her caught. That, or she’d own up to it when she whips one out in an act of desperation. 

I could also see maybe Leona picking up on something? He seems super in tune with "sensing magic". For example, he was the one to mention that he didn't sense any magic on Yuu or Gidel / Gino in the Playful Land event. Another moment that stands out to me is when he asked about Grim gobbling up the overblot stones. He seems to know something we don't (but won't tell us for some reason??) Idk he's just so omniscient and "in the know" that I wouldn't be surprised if he somehow knew about the fire lotuses lmao.

Actually, that could give me something to work with for them. I'll have to think on that a bit more.

[moss-in-my-shoes]

-Jay Merrick Headcanons-

Bro has a CHRONIC anxiety disorder, it can be so debilitating that he can’t get out of bed, loses everything in his system, or just stands there like- shaking and dissociating.

He’s taken tons of different medications for it, but those become basically obsolete once the events of Marble Hornets happens.

Then it gets even worse! Yippee!

Was friends with Alex first before anyone else in the Marble Hornets group, they met when Jay was an emo thirteen year old and Alex was a scene fourteen year old.

The two were really good and close friends before MH went down, Alex losing his mind due to the operator in the early stages is what initially made Jay distance himself.

Jay has a really, really bad coffee addiction. It doesn’t help his anxiety. No. He doesn’t care.

Insomniac to hell and back, man does not sleep a wink until his body physically forces him to crash for fifteen hours straight.

I can see him really liking the color orange, calls it an “unappreciated color.”

Undiagnosed autism, but he never got a chance to get tested. (Or enough money, that stuff expensive)

Worked at a comic book store before MH happened, which he actually thrived at.

Knows Skully exists. Chooses to ignore that part of himself unlike the others.

While Brian and hoodie are basically intertwined and Tim has a neutral outlook when it comes to Masky, Jay HATES Skully.

That isn’t him! At all! Skully is rude, obnoxious, steals things, loves getting reactions out of people! That’s not him!

Is it?

He doesn’t want to know.

Tim and Jay are very close, having this strange trauma bond due to the operator targeting them 99% of the time.

Jay talks nonstop and Tim listens, a very sweet and Classic dynamic.

Scrawny and skinny, bro could be brushed away by the slightest gust of wind.

It’s mainly due to malnourishment caused by his anxiety, but also the lack of money he and Tim had during MH to buy filling (and protein having) meals.

Dude has had that same jacket and hat for five years and you just know he barely washes either. The only reason they don’t absolutely STANK is because he’s a fairly clean person.

Talks about rats a lot, like all the different breeds, nesting habits, pet store vs wild, rats may be his special interest.

Dungeons and Dragons fan! Loves being the DM, but will play a Dragonborn bard if not.

Alex and Jay have ran many campaigns with different groups of people, even had a small campaign in college with the local DND club.

Jay had asthma as a kid and keeps his inhaler on him in case he suddenly gets an asthma attack again or something.

Meanwhile that shit expired six years ago.

Has a journal full of information he and Tim have found out about the operator/Skully/Masky/Hoodie.

He and Brian are very awkward. Jay had always admired him during filming, but now that Brian is also half Hoodie, he doesn’t see him as the same person anymore.

Will talk your ear off about anything and everything that slightly interests him.

Has a switchblade in his shoe he got from his dad.

Has three older brothers and four younger sisters.

He doesn’t talk to any of them, or any of his family for that matter.

Used to own a pair of heelies.

The wheels broke and he got sent flying, never used them again.

Has the operator mark (the circle with an x through it) on the back of his calf on his left leg. He doesn’t know it’s there.

Draws and writes on himself to remember things.

Knows how to play basic songs on the piano.

Also trumpet for some reason?? (Middle school band class)

If he was a song, I think he’d be “Spring and a Storm” by Tally hall.

Idk why, just strikes a cord with me that it’s Jay.

Also yes, he is a trans man 100%, been on T for three years.

That’s it for now! <3

[leovenuslatina]

ENCHANTMENT

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

happy valentine’s day 💝

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

their seduction style

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

book w me

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

PILE ONE

queen of pentacles, justice

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

the way your FS tries to seduce you is by hyping you up ! they want you to know that to them you’re the most beautiful person in the world to them ! like not even in a lustful way but in every single way possible you’re so gorgeous. Your FS thinks he’s won the lottery when he’s with you seriously he doesn’t even know someone as beautiful and stunning as you even exists. i don’t think your FS will necessarily buy your love but they definitely will go broke trying to impress you and make you happy they literally don’t care. To seduce you they will show you the finer things in life: fancy restaurants and luxurious hotels and trips. they wanna show you parts of life you’ve never seen before. To seduce you they make you feel like a queen. of course it’s not just about sex ! it’s also about making you theirs and they’ll wanna be the only one to make you feel like a fucking goddess. they wanna make sure that no one makes you feel as good as they do. when it comes to love making they’re every fair. feeling good is important to him but more than any they pride themselves on making you feel especially good about yourself. even in the bedroom he’s focused on you and how you feel about yourself they’re making sure that he’s telling you sweet nothings and that you repeat them back to him making sure there’s no mistake on how he feels about you.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

PILE TWO

seven of wands

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

your FS is veryyyy long term. their seduction style is very patient. he doesn’t mind waiting for you if you’re not ready to do anything physical. he doesn’t mind waiting for you if you’re in a relationship 😬. because they know at the end of the day you’re worth it to them he makes sure to know everything and anything there is to know about you as to impress you as much as that can just to make you theirs. before you guys get serious he wants to make sure you both are compatible it’s giving friends to lovers vibes ?? and in no time they’re madly in love with you. you’re like his favorite book he can’t stop reading. i feel like they’re the type to have all you favorite things written down just so they can always get you your favorite things. To seduce you Pile 2 your FS will always try to get your attention in anyway they can. doing anything to make sure you’re always paying attention to them. to seduce you your FS is very persistent they don’t care about what fights or challenges you two go through they will ALWAYS be there for you. especially when you two are doing it and if there’s any problems they won’t care or make you feel bad they’ll just keep trying and with any problems outside of that they just wanna hear you out and work with you. they’re overly committed to you like their loyalty is unshakeable.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

PILE THREE

wheel of fortune & page of cups

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Your FS seduction style is very spontaneous. wot they you’ll never know what’s next and that’s so exciting to you ! it’s always something go with them so you don’t mind being surprised or whisked away. Your FS doesn’t want you to ever get bored of them so they keep things very interesting and they like to keep things spicy. they’re the type to just text you “be ready at 6” and pick you up for like a spontaneous date in a different state. they just really wanna make sure you’re always guessing. i also think you may have told him that you get bored easily or that your last relationship was boring to you in some way and now they’ll do anything to keep you on your toes. To seduce you pile 3your FS will always be ready to just sweep you off your feet. it’s giving the great Gatsby very grand and extremely extravagant.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part iii (part i & part ii)

“Well, here we are. Not a great place to be. It isn’t about your value as a person, but it is about our connection, our compatibility, and just how drawn we are to each other - or not.” “Some of you have had your attention elsewhere at times. Which is fine - I’m hardly going to be monogamous during this, so it would be hypocritical of me to expect that of everyone else. But while other contestants had multiple romance bars and were still able to show me their interest at the same time, that hasn’t been the case with everyone.”

“Wait - is that my dress?”

“Struan, initially you were something of a dark horse, and you started this round strong by winning a date with me. If someone had told me that you’d be in this position last round, I’d be surprised, but in hindsight it’s not so shocking. It seems like you’ve soft checked out of this competition, and Jon Bon Pony isn’t entirely to blame for giving love a bad name - I’m sorry, they make me say things like that sometimes.”

“Giovanna, after Round One I wasn’t quite sure why you were here, and this last time has solidified to me that this really isn’t for you. The romantic potential just isn’t there, so I hope that like me, you leave this competition with no regrets and having made at least one good friend. But this round was to be your last. I have no doubts about my choice, but I will miss your company - and your calming presence in the household.”

“Briar, you made a strong impression on me during your introduction, but since then you’ve plateaued. I’ve initiated all the flirting between us, and on the final night instead of trying to increase our romance level, you got cozy in the kitchen with Forest. Again, no shade from me, but I believe that you’ve shown where your attentions lie, and in my case, where they don’t. You were an absolute delight but this will also be your last day in the competition. I won’t be the only one who misses you, and I wish you all the best.”

“Avery, while I’m glad that we made up some ground, I struggle to get a read on you, and I’m not sure that you know what it is you want. Even though you’ve scored higher, I feel as though I have a stronger connection with Cassie than I do with you. You blow a little hot and cold. While I like some degree of chaos in my life, I still like to know where I stand with people. Take next round to figure it out.”

“Jayla - it’s hard to do this to my hometown girl, but I think that romantically at least, we like the idea of each other more than we actually like each other. We’ve tried but it’s just not there. Perhaps we’re too similar in all the wrong ways and yet too different in others. So this is goodbye - for now. And if after that dress your Simder isn’t completely going off back home, then I’m going to have beef with all of SanMy. Just steer clear of a certain crooner we both know - he’s a jealous little bitch, and he’s bad at woohoo.”

“Cassie. I’m sure that you’re actually a secret agent of some kind. I’m kidding - please don’t eliminate me. You’re sociable but aloof - it’s an intriguing combination. You kind of fit in without entirely belonging, and I’m wondering how you are in your real life. There’s some chemistry between us though, and losing your HOT HEADED trait means that we have GOOD compatibility for the first time ever. Let’s see where next round takes us.”

“Which unfortunately means that Struan, you will not be joining us in the next round. But you also won’t be leaving entirely empty handed. I’ll say my proper goodbyes to you and everyone else tomorrow.”

how scores were calculated

Notes: As it would have been more realistic, I gave pixels another formal outfit during this ceremony. Behind the scenes, let's say a haute couture rental company is promoting - and encouraging Lilac's whole sustainability schtick.

I tried to stay true to their style, and their likes and dislikes. The only one who disliked their clothes was my ungrateful pixel - smdh 😅

Farewell posts for Giovanna, Briar, Jayla and Struan will go up in the next few days - along with their scores. They were all a joy to play and will be missed 💔 Once that's done, I'll post the final table.

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @bakersimmer @ravingsockmonkey

@jonquilyst @tipsy-clouds @lindyloosims

[reignpage]

Reign you know what? I had a very bad week and tried to make decisions like the mc you wrote in smaus instead of a crazy Person then i stared at the chat with a question mark, how should i act now? It would be smart of me to just wait or not? So i drop here the situation cause i've been following you and reading your smaus since a lot everyday and i trust your judjgment. So, basically i've been dating my boyfriend since 10 years and 8 months, we are both 27. The day before sunday we argued because we planned tò go tò a chinese festival in the morning cause i worked on sunday, then the day come and he told me "let's Just go tomorrow cause i have tò meet my Gym trainer" and i got kinda mad, he snapped at me through messages and stop. Okay. But then on sunday, while i was at work, he texted me saying he wanted a break cause it's been so time he don't know what he felt but never told me and Just brushing that feeling off. He said that maybe we meet up too early and that he Need space to figure things out. Then Yesterday he deleted out pictures on Instagram.... What should i do? I said tò take his time but i'm Just staring at the phone all day waiting

Girl, break up with him. He hates you. No man who’s in love with you would want a ‘break’ out of nowhere. Knowing men, he likely wants to sleep with another woman and that’s why he’s asked for a break. Seeing as you’ve been together a long time, he likely got bored and wants to see if he can do ‘better’. He views you not as this amazing gorgeous wonderful person he wants to spend the rest of his life with but as a safety net for if no one else wants him.

My friend went through the exact same thing. A break out of nowhere.

And the thing is your ‘boyfriend’ isn’t even behaving like this is a break. A break is space from each other but you are still dating, you are still together, and you should still be communicating. Deleting all your pictures together indicates he wants to sever your ties, flirt around without any girl knowing about you, and if he can’t find anyone else, he’ll put those pictures back up and date you again

He sounds like a dick

It’s not even just the break. It’s also the fact that you planned something and on the day, he decides he wants to do something else. That’s disrespectful. You make plans you commit to them. Especially if they’re with your partner. You don’t just get to do whatever you want, you have to be considerate, that’s what it means to be in a relationship — moving as a team, as a unit, not as two individuals.

And then it’s the snapping at you, fuck him, why doesn’t he have the emotional control at his big age not to react aggressively

AND to ask for a break on text?? Oh yeah that man thinks very little of you. He doesn’t think you’re worth a proper conversation, he doesn’t even think it’s a conversation, he’s just letting you know he doesn’t want to be with you but he wants you to stay available for him in case things don’t work out with whatever woman he’s chasing

I hope hope hope I’m wrong but personally, I would break up with him. Don’t spend your time waiting around. The last thing you should ever want to do is tolerate his disrespect and take him back when it’s convenient for him because what that teaches him is that you will never leave, you will never fight back, and he can do whatever he wants anytime he wants

You’ll look back at this years later and think, the signs were there, I just didn’t want to see it.

Leave him now. It’s never too late to live life for yourself and to start again. A man like this will only crush your spirit and you’ll not only hate him, but also yourself if you don’t choose you now.

[emmg]

Swapped sugar daddy anon crawling back into ur inbox, (I am continuing to write the beginning of their relationship, and ngl my respect for fic writers has tripled. I have no idea how you do this I feel like a 5 yr old smacking 2 barbies together and yelling kiss) and apologies for how long this is but I’ve been thinking about how everything eventually blows up in their faces and I kinda want it to be a pregnancy scare in her final year? They’ve been seeing each other for a few years now, and they get a little relaxed about things, they’re exclusive and she’s on the pill so they don’t have to worry about it. Until her period is several weeks late so she takes a test just in case and suddenly they really do. And oh god she wants kids, especially Emmrich’s kids, but not right now??? She doesn’t want to have to juggle pregnancy/a baby while writing and defending her thesis. They haven’t even talked about kids yet even if she’s pretty sure he wants them? He hasn’t acknowledged her hints about marriage, is it because he doesn’t want to marry her? She’s so scared about what this means and she needs Emmrich’s support and why is he being so weird and cagey about this? Does he think she’s trying to baby trap him? (She doesn’t know but he wouldn’t mind, he’d probably say thank you)

And Emmrich is in crisis mode. Now, he is a pro choice king so whatever rook wants is what happens, but also oh god he wants this child sooo bad. He’s always wanted kids but he’d kinda given up on it at this point and add in that it’s Rooks baby? a little piece of their love made physical (Don’t think too hard about how she doesn’t really love you Emmrich). An excuse to still see her sometimes, even if it means watching her eventually move on and marry and start a family with someone else. Even if she doesn’t want to be involved he could keep this little part of her (its only for a second, but he thinks he’d give her anything she asked for, he’d pay off her student loans, he’d buy her a fucking house, if she let him have this even if she walks away from it) but she can’t know that. He’d never forgive himself if he pressured her into this no matter how much he wants it. And he realises how completely and utterly fucked he is. Rook is the love of his life but he isn’t hers and there’s no way that this can continue as it is. If she keeps the baby she’ll never really be able to leave him behind, and is he selfish enough to ruin her life like that? He’s already bought the last three years with fancy restaurants and expensive gifts, what can he possibly offer her that’s worth the rest of her life?

I’m still not 100% sure about how it all comes out but I imagine that it's probably a fight, their first big real fight, about how rook feels like Emmrich’s being avoidant and unsupportive and Emmrich is fighting for his life bc internally he’s hanging on by a thread, like why is she treating this like their relationship is actually real? He’s trying to build up some emotional distance bc no matter how this goes he’s kinda fucked and he wants to make sure that he makes it through this at least somewhat emotionally intact. I think rook eventually calls him out on this, saying something about how she thought he was serious about this, about her, how she thought they were gonna get married but how he’s acting is making her rethink that bc it doesn’t seem like he is very serious about her right now. And he says something about how of course he wants to marry her but he wouldn’t put her in that position bc he knows it would be unfair to ask her for that. And rook is like what the actual fuck are you talking about Emmrich? And Emmrich is crying at this point, quietly and very prettily but he is crying. And this is when the misunderstanding comes out, where Emmrich is like “I know you don’t actually love me and I don’t expect you to, but I would appreciate it if we could discuss this situation without pretending that you do.” and this is when rook starts to put the pieces together and is like “wait do u think i'm only with you for your money” and Emmrich’s like “yes? Why else would you be dating me?”

I have absolutely zero ideas on how this is actually resolved but i know that emmrich 100% ugly sobs at some point. And realistically he’s probably still quite insecure about whether or not rook actually does love him but i feel like they work it out eventually and get married and are disgustingly happy together.

Also idk if they keep the baby or not, but they absolutely have at least 1 kid at some point.

BABYYYYYY I am ON MY KNEES begging you to publish this because I have read and re-read it so many times that I’m basically in a parasocial relationship with your asks. At this point, just reading your ideas is activating my primal hunger instincts. I’m starving. I am THIS CLOSE to organizing a fandom-wide intervention where we collectively cyberbully you into dropping this holy manuscript.

The way I flatlined at "pro-choice king"—like, I ascended. I left my body. LMAO

Listen, I am normally violently allergic to the "and they lived happily ever after with 2.5 kids and a suburban mortgage" trope. I break out in hives. I see it, and suddenly the book I loved turns into a mid-tier Hallmark movie where the protagonist goes from slaying demons to clutching her stomach and whispering “oh my god.” Like, girl. GIRL. No. Keep that away from me. Anyway, thanks for attending my TED Talk.

BUT. FUCKING. EMMRICH VOLKARIN. This man was engineered in a lab to be a father. He was born for it. I go absolutely rabid over the idea of him having a daughter. He is so girl-dad-coded that it’s spiritual. Rook so much as mentions her period is late, and this man is weeping.

He’s already drafting a will.

He's calling his lawyer.

He’s distributing his gold bars.

He’s making her his sole life insurance beneficiary.

"And rook is like what the actual fuck are you talking about Emmrich?" — lmfao nah for real. What did you think these last three years were? And Emmrich does that Gob face from Arrested Development, you know the one:

I want him to cry and then I want them to fuck and then I want him to cry while they fuck. That's it, your honor.

[transjess]

“Crowley,” Sam says. “I am not marrying you.”

“Just hear me out,” Crowley says, holding his hands up. “This could be good for both of us, right? Just sit your giant arse down and listen to me for a minute.”

Sam glowers, but he’s always been curious, and the desire to know what the hell Crowley is on about wins over his instant dismissal. “You have a minute,” he says, lowering himself into a bunker chair. “One minute.”

“How generous,” Crowley says, but he doesn’t waste any time. “Look, Sam, neither of us wants Abaddon in charge, right? Alone you can’t defeat her, Cassie over there’s about as much use as a dodo, and as much as I hate to say it I’m not entirely confident I can beat her either. Wherever Dean’s buggered off to, he's not helping right now. But united, together, we have a chance.”

“Where the hell does marriage come into this?” Sam interrupts.

Crowley holds up a hand. “Patience, Moose,” he says. “I was getting to that.”

“Get to it faster,” Cas says.

“Down, boy,” Crowley says, unbothered. “Marriage comes into it because a lot of demons are sticklers for tradition, right? The only reason Abaddon has so many dogs in her corner is because they think that because she’s got the better claim to the throne, she’s more powerful - the Lucifer loyalists switched over to her, because she’s the closest they’ve got to him. A Knight is higher up the traditionalist food chain than a crossroads demon, no matter how efficiently Hell runs under my rule. Now, who else has a claim to the throne? Say, one directly related to Lucifer?”

“Me,” Sam says, starting to understand.

“Bingo. The demons loyal to me like the way Hell’s run, and the rest think I don’t have a claim to the throne strong enough to go against Abaddon. Even if they’re not traditionalists themselves, they think Hell will fall back to a more traditional rule, and they don’t want to be on the old girl’s bad side when that happens. But if I was allied with, say, the Boy King of Hell, true vessel of Lucifer? A lot of them would switch sides. And that would be huge.”

“Why marriage?” Cas asks. “Just sign a- a truce, or something.”

“What is marriage if not a contract?” Crowley says, spreading his arms a little and grinning. “A truce that isn’t binding isn’t worth the paper it’s written on, Feathers. And we can’t just be allies in this - full offense, Moose, but you’ve got quite the history of trying to kill me the moment I stop being completely useful to you. I’m not trusting your good word as far as I can throw it, mate. With a contract, I can make it a little more… binding. Historically, marriages have been uniting political allies for hundreds of years - what better nod to the traditionalists among the demon populace than a marriage between the current King of Hell and the destined Boyking? It’s a contract that goes off with a bang. I get to strengthen my position, you get to cash in a little of that Devil clout with any demons you come across - wouldn’t it be easier if they had to obey you? Skip past all that recitation and stabbing and whatnot? Quick and easy exorcisms, all for the low, low price of marrying me. Best of all, this contract wouldn’t even touch your soul. Not that I’d want it, mind you; the thing’s a mess. But regardless, all you have to hand over is… well, your hand. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re insane,” Sam says flatly. Cas hums in consideration.

“You wouldn’t have to take any interest in Hell itself, by the way,” Crowley adds. “I’ll run the whole shebang. Contracts, demon management, soul counts, all of that. You won’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing. Just keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing - without the threat of demon usurpation and Abaddon takeover quite so weightily on my mind - and all that’ll be different is a ring on your finger and a ‘til death do us part. I’ll even let you read over the vows before the day. Just so you can make sure I’m not up to anything sinister.”

“You’re always up to something sinister,” Sam says, ignoring Crowley pretending to blush and bat his eyelashes. “I just don’t get your angle on this one. Marriage, of all things.”

“Well it’s not exactly ideal for me either,” Crowley says, rolling his eyes. “As much as I love to rile you up, I’m after a quiet life, no nagging wife telling me to clean up entrails after myself when I get home from work after a long day, etc etc. Though I suppose you’d make a decent little housewife, Samantha, all things considered.”

“Shut up,” Cas says before Sam can. Glad we’re on the same page, Sam thinks wryly.

“Look, Sam,” Crowley says, and he looks so completely serious for a moment that it’s almost startling after the faux-flirty banter. “Just think about it, alright? This could be good for both of us. And don’t worry,” he adds, switching back to flirty, lips curling up at the corner. “I won’t even expect you to consummate the marriage.” He winks, grinning, and then disappears. Cas scowls.

[simonsrileyhusband]

Could you perhaps make a more lengthy fic of Simon x a nerdy ftm reader? 👀👀

(idk if you meant spicy, if yes im so sorry lmao. i made them marvel nerd bcs i am, pls dont bully me)

"no, you dont get it, nobody saw miles because he was meant to be spiderman, so the narrative is always on his side, that’s why gwen sees him on the wall but nobody else does, because she isn’t part of his universe."

"mhm... i get it, people are dumb."

"no, simon, are you listening to me?" you turn to look at him, he was already watching you, a dumb look on his eyes. "you arent even looking at the screen."

"im sorry love, i just think its very cute when you talk about your things."

you stay quiet, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

"cat got your tongue?"

"im watching the movie, unlike you."

"you have seen it a million times, luv."

"yeah, but im watching it with you."

"i have seen it at least 3 times, those 3 times were with you." he chuckles.

you pause the movie and turn to look at him. "i told you if you didnt want to watch ut we could watch something else." you say a bit whiny.

"i mean, its okay, just not my cup of tea."

"what is your cup of tea?"

"mhm... that guy without the arm."

"winter soldier?"

"yeah, that dude... dope as fuck." he says smiling softly at you. "we can watch that one... or the cat guy."

"black panther?" you say holding back your laughter.

"dont laugh, im bad with names, they are all so silly. who the fuck chooses their hero name to be iron man? so dumb." one of his arms reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you closer to him.

"hey, dont speak ill of tony stark." you mumble and he groans.

"i dont like him, its dumb, the america guy too. how can he be names america when he is only on the united states?"

"what if we watch moon knight again?"

"mhm... can we skip episode 5?"

"sure, we can."

"okay then, i like those guys, they are silly... but in a good way."

you nod in agreement standing up to grab the remote and when you sit back down simon pulls you into his lap.

"i like your silly superheroes.... some of them." he whispers kissing your cheek.

"i know... thanks for taking the time, i know its not your cup of tea."

"some of them are... but you are my cup of tea, and i like hearing you talk."

you smile and kiss his cheek. "i love you" you whisper and he whispers it back.