#I’m reading normal people and it is. SO good

[darlingsblackbook]

Between the Lines

Gojo Satoru x Awkward!Reader

Summary : As the new teacher’s assistant at Jujutsu High, Y/N is used to being invisible—quiet, awkward, always on the outside looking in. She tells herself she prefers it that way, but when Gojo Satoru, the school’s most infuriatingly nosy teacher, starts noticing the cracks in her carefully built walls, she finds it harder to hide. He’s loud, he’s persistent, and worst of all… he might just see right through her.

Warnings : Shy!Reader, Awkward!Reader, Introvert!Reader, Lonely!Reader

♡♡♡

I had never been good at introductions.

Or first impressions. Or second impressions.

Or… people in general.

So when the principal of Jujutsu High offered me a job as a teaching assistant, I accepted before I could talk myself out of it. It was logical—stable work, a chance to put my skills to use—but now, standing in front of the classroom door, I was starting to question every decision that led me here.

The job itself wasn’t the problem. It was the social part. The talking. The being around others.

The inevitable awkwardness.

Here I am, standing awkwardly outside the door of Gojo Satoru’s classroom, a bundle of nerves in my stomach.

I have never met him before. Only heard of him in passing. The strongest sorcerer alive. An eccentric man, a little ridiculous but undeniably powerful. I have no idea what to expect, and that made me even more anxious.

I exhaled sharply and knocked before I could hesitate any longer.

“Come iiinnn~”

The voice was playful, stretching the words like taffy. I hesitated for a second before pushing the door open.

The room was not empty. Three students sat at their desks, heads turning as I entered. One of them—a boy with pink hair and a bright, open grin—tilted his head curiously. Another, dark-haired with sharp features, barely reacted. The last, a girl with fiery eyes, scrutinized me with clear interest.

And then, there was him.

Gojo Satoru.

He was taller than I expected, his dark blue uniform neat but his posture anything but. White hair, messy but somehow intentional and a blindfold shielding his eyes. He was the kind of person who took up space without any effort, like the air itself made room for him.

“Oh? A new face.” A grin stretched across his face. "And who might you be?"

I swallowed and tightened my grip on my bag. “Um. I’m Y/N. The principal assigned me as your new teaching assistant.”

For a moment, there was a silence. Then, Gojo’s smile widened. “Ohhh, so you’re the poor soul stuck with me?”

I- I was not so sure how to respond to that.

“I… guess?”

The pink-haired boy snickered. “Welcome to the chaos, sensei.”

Gojo clapped his hands. “Right! Introductions. These little troublemakers are my students. That’s Itadori Yuji—”

“Yo!”

“—Fushiguro Megumi—”

A silent nod.

“—and Kugisaki Nobara.”

The girl flipped her hair. “Good luck surviving Gojo-sensei.”

I gave a small, uncertain nod with an unsure smile. “Thanks…?”

Gojo tilted his head. “So, Y/N! Tell us about yourself.”

Oh no.

Not this question. Anything but this question.

My mind blanked immediately.

I was supposed to say something here. Something normal. Something that would make me seem approachable. But nothing came.

“There’s not much to say,” I finally muttered.

Gojo leaned forward on his desk, grinning. “Come on, there’s gotta be something. A hobby? Fun fact? Favorite food? Deepest, darkest secret?”

I swallowed. I hated questions like this. I never knew how to answer.

My hands curled around the strap of my bag. “I..I mean I like...reading, I don’t know.”

For a second, silence. A horrible, suffocating pause.

Then—

Gojo sighed dramatically. “A mystery woman, huh? Fine, fine, we’ll learn your secrets eventually.”

Something in me tensed at that idea.

But Gojo spared me and did not press. He just stretched lazily and turned back to his students.

I exhaled, shoulders loosening.

That could have gone a lot worse.

°•♡•°

The first few days passed in a blur.

I kept to my work, avoiding unnecessary interactions. The job itself was easy—assisting with lessons, helping with training schedules, sorting paperwork. It was everything outside of that that I struggled with.

Small talk. Social cues. Knowing when to speak and when to stay silent.

I avoided the break room, ate lunch alone, kept my head down. It wasn’t new—I had always been like this. And I had always told myself I didn’t mind.

But Gojo made it difficult to go unnoticed.

He was everywhere. Loud, teasing, impossible to ignore. He had a habit of appearing at the worst moments—leaning over my desk when I was trying to work, suddenly materializing beside me when I was lost in thought.

And he noticed things.

A lot of things.

“Hey,” he said one afternoon. “Do you always stand like that?”

I blinked up at him. “Like what?”

He waved a hand vaguely. “All stiff. Like you’re bracing for impact.”

I immediately stiffened more. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Gojo hummed. “You’re always tense. And quiet. Do I scare you?”

I frowned, caught off guard. “What? No.” I laughed awkwardly.

He gasped, hand over his chest. “So you just don’t like me?”

“That’s not—” I stopped, exhaling. “I just… I don’t talk much.”

Gojo tilted his head, as if considering something.

For a second, I thought he might press further. Ask questions I didn’t know how to answer.

But then he just grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ll warm up to me eventually.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

But later, when I caught him watching me with something thoughtful behind his blindfold, I realized—

He wasn’t sure about me either.

°•♡•°

Even more days passed, blending into each other like ink bleeding into paper.

I kept my head down, did my work, and kept to myself. It was easy, really. No one expected much from me beyond my job. The students were polite, Gojo was… Gojo, and the rest of the staff had their own responsibilities. I did what was required, answered when spoken to, and let conversations pass over me like waves washing over a stone.

And yet…

Something gnawed at me.

I noticed things. I always had.

Like the way Itadori and Kugisaki bickered over lunch, their insults sharp but affectionate. The way Fushiguro sighed, exasperated but always there, always included. The way they trained together, argued together, shared jokes that only made sense to them.

They belonged.

Even the staff, as different as they were, had their own connections. Yaga’s gruff lectures, Shoko’s dry humor, Gojo’s infuriating yet oddly natural way of slipping into conversations like he had always been part of them.

Everywhere I looked, people had someone.

I didn’t even have a past friendship to reminisce about. No old friend I had lost touch with. No warm memories of sleepovers, of whispered secrets at midnight, of laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

I had nothing.

It wasn’t that I had never wanted friends. I had wanted them desperately. But there had always been something wrong with me—something that made people drift away before they ever truly got close.

Maybe I was too quiet.

Maybe I was too awkward.

Maybe I was just… forgettable.

Even now, at 22, I felt like I had already wasted my entire life away.

Everyone else had stories. Experiences. Things they could look back on with fondness or even regret.

I had empty days and silence.

I never checked my phone much, but sometimes, I left it untouched for hours just to pretend—just to imagine, for a second, that when I finally looked at it, I would see something.

A message.

A missed call.

A notification that was not just a useless app reminder.

But there was never anything.

The ache in my chest was familiar by now, dull but relentless.

I felt like I was missing something vital, something everyone else had but I simply… didn’t.

It was stupid.

I had a job. A roof over my head. A place in the world, even if it felt like I was just existing rather than living.

But still—

Still.

I wanted someone.

Someone to talk to about nothing and everything.

Someone to laugh with.

Someone who would see my name pop up on their phone and be excited to hear from me.

But I didn’t know how to reach out.

Didn’t know how to start.

Didn’t know if it was even possible for someone like me.

If Gojo noticed anything, he didn’t show it.

Not at first.

He still teased, still popped up at the most unexpected moments, still acted like the world was his playground.

But then, I started catching him watching me.

Just little moments, subtle shifts.

His head tilting ever so slightly whenever I hesitated before answering a question.

His focus lingering when I thought no one was paying attention.

At first, I just chalked it up to paranoia. But it kept happening.

The worst part was, Gojo wasn’t the type to care without reason. If he was noticing me, if he was watching me, it meant something had tipped him off.

That terrified me.

Because if he figured it out—if he somehow pieced together how hollow my life really was—I wasn’t sure I could handle that kind of scrutiny.

So I tried harder.

Tried to look normal.

Tried to pretend that I wasn’t weighed down by something invisible, something I didn’t have the words for.

But Gojo was sharp in a way most people didn’t realize.

And even if I could fool everyone else,

I couldn’t fool him.

The days continued to pass, each one blending into the next. I had fallen into a routine, and while there was a sense of comfort in that, there was also something else—something heavier, something I tried not to think about too much.

I wasn’t unhappy, exactly. I had a job, I had a purpose, and I wasn’t struggling. But the silence of my own life had become deafening.

At Jujutsu High, I was surrounded by people, but I had never felt more alone.

It was during lunch that I felt it the most.

I always sat outside, away from the busy chatter of the cafeteria, where students and staff alike gathered in their little groups.

It wasn’t like anyone had told me to sit alone. I had just… done it.

It was easier that way.

Or at least, that was what I told myself.

I had taken to watching the students from afar. Not in an obvious way, but just enough to see the ease of their friendships. The way Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi existed in a way that I had never known myself.

“Oi, Megumi, say ‘ahhh’—”

“No.”

“Come onnn, I made it with love!”

“I literally watched you drop that on the floor.”

Nobara pouted dramatically, only for Yuji to swoop in and eat whatever it was she had been trying to force on Megumi. The two of them laughed at something he said, and even Megumi, who always tried to seem indifferent, looked somewhat amused.

I turned my gaze away with a slight smile, focusing on my food.

It shouldn’t have made me feel like this.

It was such a simple thing—friends joking around, sharing lunch, teasing each other. It wasn’t as if I had ever expected to be part of something like that.

And yet.

I let out a quiet sigh and checked my phone.

Zero notifications.

The same empty lock screen. The same stillness.

I turned it off quickly and placed it back on the table, pushing my food around with my chopsticks.

“Not hungry?”

I looked up, startled.

Shoko had appeared beside me, a cigarette dangling between her fingers as she leaned against the bench. Her sharp eyes flickered to my barely-touched food.

“Oh,” I hesitated. “No, I just…” I trailed off, not really knowing how to finish the sentence.

Shoko hummed. “Gojo giving you trouble?”

I blinked. “What?”

She smirked, exhaling smoke. “He’s been staring at you a lot.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just gave a weak chuckle and shook my head.

“I think he just likes messing with people.”

“That’s an understatement.” Shoko stretched, then took another drag. “He’s nosy, though. If he’s paying attention to you, he’s probably noticed something.”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling even more self-conscious.

Shoko didn’t push. She just glanced at my food again, then nodded toward the cafeteria. “You should eat with them sometime. They wouldn’t mind.”

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Maybe,” I lied.

She didn’t call me out on it. Just gave a lazy wave and wandered off, disappearing into the school.

I should have expected it.

I really should have.

But when Gojo’s voice rang out, disrupting my fragile moment of peace, I still nearly choked on air.

“You eat like someone’s forcing you,” he remarked, plopping down onto the bench beside me without a single care.

I froze.

He was too close.

I wasn’t used to people being this close.

Gojo didn’t seem to notice—or, more likely, he didn’t care. He leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his arms sprawled over the back of the bench as if he owned the whole world.

I forced a weak chuckle, gripping my chopsticks tighter. “I eat fine.”

“Debatable.” He tilted his head toward me. “You’re all stiff. Like a scared little rabbit.”

I gave him a look, but I knew better than to actually argue. Gojo thrived off reactions.

Instead, I let out a breathy laugh and looked away.

He wasn’t deterred.

“So,” he continued, tapping his fingers against the bench, “why do you always eat alone?”

I nearly dropped my chopsticks.

The question caught me off guard—not because it was unexpected, but because it was so blunt.

My throat felt tight. “I just prefer it,” I murmured, staring down at my food.

“Really?” Gojo drawled. “Because I think you just don’t know how to ask to sit with someone.”

I swallowed, gripping my chopsticks so hard they might snap. “That’s not—”

“C’mon, am I wrong?”

I didn’t answer.

Gojo sighed dramatically, turning to face me fully. “You’re a weird one, you know that?”

I let out a nervous laugh, feeling my entire body lock up under his gaze.

“And you’re loud,” I mumbled before I could stop myself.

He grinned. “I am loud. But I’m fun, too.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just nodded weakly.

He tapped a finger against the table. “Seriously, though. You’re always off on your own. No friends? No tragic backstory?”

I blinked rapidly, caught completely off guard. “I—”

“Oh my god, do you have amnesia? Are you secretly a lost princess? A government experiment gone wrong?”

Despite myself, I let out a small laugh. It was quiet, but it was real.

Gojo grinned like he had won something.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“I know,” he said smugly. Then, after a pause, his voice turned softer—quieter. “But really. You okay?”

The question hit harder than I expected.

I stared at my untouched food, feeling my throat tighten.

I didn’t know how to answer.

Because I didn’t even know what ‘okay’ meant anymore.

Gojo didn’t push.

He just sat there, waiting, as if he had all the time in the world.

But I wasn’t ready.

So I did what I always did.

I laughed awkwardly. Nodded.

And said nothing at all.

Gojo let out a hum, tapping his fingers against the table again.

He knew.

Maybe not everything, but something.

And that scared me more than anything.

[bybobbysbeard]

Arrivals

Day 8 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: surprise read on ao3 read other days here

Buck smells like an airport. He couldn’t accurately describe what that smell entails, but he knows he stinks of it. He’s exhausted, his feet hurt, and his bad leg is swollen from the pressure changes. He wants to take his sneakers off, drink a massive glass of icy-cold water, and fall into bed; in that order. 

But no matter how crappy he feels, he won’t let a single word of complaint pass his lips. Any discomfort he’s experiencing has to be dwarfed by what Maddie’s going through. She just did the same amount of traveling as him, and she's six months pregnant. Thank God they were only in Pennsylvania for the weekend. His Mom’s retirement party went well, Buck didn’t make a fool of himself, and Maddie was glowing. But being with his parents was as exhausting as ever. 

And that’s not including the fact that they still have no idea how to deal with Buck dating a man. 

They have never cared about anyone he’s dated before, as long as he wasn’t embarrassing them or getting a girl pregnant. And then they saw him with Tommy at Maddie’s wedding. They didn’t say anything, but Buck could feel his Mom’s eyes on him the whole time. Even as he escorted a half-asleep Tommy to his Jeep, they only waved half-heartedly. He assumed they had decided it was a phase, and didn’t need to introduce themselves. 

When he told them on Friday that Tommy was on special deployment, or he would have brought him along, his mom stuttered over three different sentence starts. She finally ended up with, “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

Before Buck could think better of it, he said, “Technically, I’m with him again.” That had kicked off a barebones explanation of their break-up and reconciliation, which his parents had not reacted well to. 

The rest of the weekend continued in the same tone.  

The pointed, leading questions, which he pretended to misunderstand. The insinuations that he didn’t know his own mind, which he ignored. The blatant aspersions against Tommy, blaming him for confusing Evan and leading him on. Those he addressed immediately, and at one point, it would have devolved into a shouting match, if not for Maddie. 

Suffice to say, he’s happy to be back in Los Angeles, even if he still has an hour long Uber ride ahead of him. Normally, he knows his family would be tripping over themselves to pick them up from the airport, but Chimney is home with a still-sick-but-recovering Jee, and the rest of the 118 is on shift. Most disappointingly, Tommy’s still fighting the wildfires up north, piloting water bombers for another week and a half.

Buck will be going home to an empty loft. 

The baggage carousel comes into view, so Buck parks Maddie by a nearby column and goes to wait for their bags. She’s digging her cell out as he turns away. He checks his own phone, finds ‘welcome home’ messages from the group chat, but nothing from Tommy. He’s probably in the air. Or sleeping. Eventually, a familiar navy bag and maroon suitcase come into view. His duffle gets slung over a shoulder and he leads Maddie’s wheeling suitcase over. They head towards Arrivals without any words exchanged. Maddie’s walking slowly, obviously tired, breath puffing out of her mouth as she rests one hand low on her belly. Buck wraps an arm around her shoulders and she leans into him. 

“I wish Chimney and Jee could have come with us. He’s so good with Mom and Dad, and Jee is so distracting.” She sighs. “I’m sorry again. About what they were saying. I wish they would just be happy for you.”

“It’s alright Mads, I wasn’t about to let you fly to Hershey all alone. I can deal with them for a weekend.”

She lapses into silence again. They turn another corner and step onto an escalator, finally descending to ground level. The Arrivals area is a wider section of the terminal, an open space, right by the main exit. Floor to ceiling windows let in the setting sun. There’s people all around, reunions between travelers and their families happening in a hundred different languages, a hundred different cultures. Buck steers them through the crowd, hearing the laughter and tears in the voices surrounding them. There’s a line of people by the doors, holding signs. Sunbeams edge everyone in gold.

One of the signs says “Buckley.”

Wait, what? His eyes jerk from the sign to the man holding it. 

Holy shit. It’s Tommy. How?!

Buck stops dead. Their eyes meet. He knows his mouth is hanging open. Tommy’s smiling widely, almost laughing at the dumbfounded expression that Buck knows he’s sporting. His face crinkles adorably with the force of his joy. His eyes are sparkling. 

The arm Buck has around Maddie’s shoulder jerks her to a stop too. People continue to stream around them. She darts a look at his face, bursting into laughter and following his gaze to Tommy. She waves, still giggling. Tommy’s already striding over, eating up the distance between them until he's close enough to touch.

Two big hands settle on his cheeks, pinkies applying the smallest pressure to his jaw. His teeth clack together when he finally remembers to shut his mouth. A chaste, gentle kiss is pressed to his lips.

“Hi baby. Welcome home.”

Stupidly, all Buck can think to say is, “you’re supposed to be in Oregon.”

Tommy chuckles. “I was, but the Canadians showed up early, so they sent us home.” His hands drop down to wrap around Buck’s. Their fingers intertwine without Buck’s input. “Surprised?”

Buck nods. He recognizes he’s staring, like Tommy is a hallucination that might disappear at any second, but it's been nearly three weeks since he’s seen his boyfriend. He’s just had a shitty weekend in his hometown, playing the part of a dutiful son to strangers, while worrying about his sister and his unborn nibling, and dealing with the casual disregard he’s come to expect from his parents. Only this time, there was a nice heaping tablespoon of biphobia sprinkled on top. He needs a minute.

Maddie lays a hand on both of their elbows. “Good timing Tommy, I was worried we were going to beat you to the exit.”

Buck whips his head around to stare at her. “You knew!”

She giggles again. He spins back to Tommy. He’s flushed from laughter, radiant in the early evening light. Buck’s gaze darts over his face. His blue eyes, his crow’s feet, his perfect teeth. The cleft. He’s beautiful, and he’s here for Buck. 

It feels like his brain finally comes back online. Tommy’s here. For Buck.

Buck lunges forward, driving a little oomph out of Tommy and wrapping his arms around him tightly. He squeezes and lifts, hoisting Tommy a few inches into the air, making him flail and squeak out an undignified noise. Maddie snorts, bending at the waist, helpless with mirth. Tommy’s hands land on his shoulders, fingertips digging into the muscle, little spots of warm pressure. 

“Evan! Put me down, oh my God. I missed you too!”

[nakidoriii]

Speechless (Part 1)

Nerdjo x Reader

Warning: sexual tension, mild smut descriptions|| MDNI

“Ooo, that’s not good.” Gojo says looking at your test grade as you wallow in disappointment at the table.

This is the second math test in a row that you’ve scored a 70/100 on. If you don’t ace the next one, your parents aren’t going to pay for you to go to Osaka this summer.

“Gojo, I don’t know what to do. I literally have perfect grades in every other subject. Why does math have to be so hard?” You whine into the table.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, prez.” He says as he rolls up your test and hits you on the back of the head with it. You lift your head off the table and sit up, looking up at Gojo’s blue eyes as he stands next to you.

You grab your test from him and say, “I need to start studying for the next test TONIGHT.”

Gojo places his hand on the back of his neck and takes a breath. He wanted to ask you if you wanted him to tutor you, but he was too nervous you’d say no. You are the president of the student council and Gojo is your vice president. You’re pretty popular due to you being so heavily involved with extracurricular activities at your university. Gojo is the smartest in the school but not as popular as you since he kept to himself most of the time. Most people were intimidated by him. When you both got elected, he knew that was the only way he’d get to talk to you. You two often saw each other throughout the week and had lunch together regularly but you’ve never had a conversation outside of student council.

“I….I can help you study. If you want me to. I’m not busy tonight.” He says quietly.

“Would you? You can stay over for dinner and everything!” You exclaimed.

“Yea, sure.” Gojo says trying to be normal about the fact that he’s going over to his crushes house.

“YES! I’m gonna pass for sure this time.” You wrap your arms around his tall frame and frantically say, “thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

The apples of Gojo’s cheeks turn pink at the sudden physical contact with you. You look up at him realizing he was startled by you hugging him and let go.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked first.” You say backing from him.

You didn’t realize his body was so…solid. From that hug alone, you felt how toned his stomach was. Knowing that made you pretty curious.

“N-no, it’s okay.” He says trying to compose himself.

“Cool, do you have any more classes today? If not, we can head over to mine now. I’d hate to just have you over to study.”

“I don’t have anything else today. It'd be fun to finally hang outside of school.” He says as he packs his bag.

“Great! I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship, Gojo. Don’t you?” You say knowing damn well it’ll make him blush.

“That is, if we have anything in common.” He teases back to your surprise. You both start walking out of the board room, walking side by side, heading to the train station.

“Of course we do! We’re in the student council together, which means we should have something in common. Do you read manga?”

“Nooope.” He sings.

“Anime?”

“Eh, I used to watch but not since I started college.”

“….music? You have to listen to music…” you say flashing him a face of disgust as you reach the station. You get in front of him to lead him to your train.

“Of course, I listen to music, Y/N. But It wouldn’t be anything you’d like…. I like sweets though.” He says getting out his card to swipe through the gates.

“Eating sweets isn’t a hobby…” you swipe your card to get through the gates. It’s crowded as usual. You grab his hand, making sure you don’t lose him in the sea of people. His hands were big and soft, the tips of his fingers a bit calloused. You rushed on the train holding Gojo’s hand as the doors opened. The crowd of people push you both toward the window.

“Ugh, I can’t believe how cramped this is.” You say trying to adjust yourself not realizing your butt is brushing up against Gojo’s crotch. He couldn’t begin to fathom how this was happening in broad daylight. His face turned bright red.

“Y/N, pl-please turn around. I can’t…” he mumbles in your ear.

You look down, realizing just how close you were to him. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like how flustered you made him. You never notice him get like this over you but yet again you guys had never hung out. He places his hand against the wall of the train, creating the smallest space for you.

“Ahhh, I’m sorry Gojo.” You say turning to face him.

“It’s fine, not your fault.” He says trying his hardest to play it off.

You two didn’t talk much on the train ride to your place. It was filled with sexual tension though. You two were so close that whenever Gojo looked down, he got a great view of your breasts. When you looked up, you were met with a view of his sharp jawline and collarbones. You hoped the train would make a hard stop so that he would move closer.

“This is my stop, let’s go.” You say leading him off the train.

Once you get off the train and leave the station, you propose that you stop at the convenience store near your place. Gojo agrees and you both head in.

“Get anything you want, I got you.” You say as you look at the shelves.

He nods and starts to look around. You grab a few snacks and drinks and walk up to the counter to check out. Gojo comes up behind you and places his hand full of things on the counter. It was all sweets… damn he was not kidding. You pay for everything and he grabs the bag from the clerk.

“Thanks.” He says as you two start walking to your apartment.

“You're welcome. Thank you for asking to tutor me. My apartment is right up here. I’m on the 4th floor.” You say as you walk up the stairs with him following you.

Once you get to your place, you both take your shoes off at the door and get comfortable in the living room. He spread out all the snacks on the table as if they were all on display.

“Can I get you something to drink? Tea?” You ask.

“Yea, oolong is good. Do you live alone?” He asks, sitting on the ground.

“Yea, I do. My family lives out of the country while I go to school here. I’m sure you know I’m a foreigner by my appearance, that’s not much of a shock.”

“That’s cool. Your place is really cozy. I wouldn’t have imagined it to look like this.” He says as he takes a bite out of whatever snack he chose.

“You’ve imagined what my apartment looks like?” You say.

“You’re the prettiest girl in our graduating class, Y/N. Every guy has thought about what the inside of your apartment looks like.” He says nonchalantly.

You look up from the tea that you’re preparing, shocked that he said that to you. Was this the same guy that was blushing from you giving him a hug earlier? He gets up from the floor and smirks at you.

“Speechless? I don’t know why… you are on every guy's mind right now.” He says as he walks over to the kitchen.

He gets directly behind you, pressing the bulge in his pants on your ass. You couldn’t even pretend to understand where this confidence came from. You bite your lip in anticipation, waiting to see what his next move is.

“I fear that you’ve been on my mind the most.”

Masterlist

Part two coming soon <3

Please don’t alter or steal my writing ©️

[elodieunderglass]

elodie! i am still excited to read your big fanfic works BUT i have also had SO much fun watching you develop your delightful OCs. i hope you are having fun with them too!!

Oh my goodness SO everyone who is mildly roasting me because they’re like “Killie the jockey OC is quite short and wretched and horrid, 🧐 much like Chilchuck. Is this a thing? Do you have a type?” is right and please don’t tell my husband that he’s horrid he’s actually quite sweet is putting their finger on the reason why I’ve sort of resurrected him and his worse brother Charlie in my subconscious.

Before writing Weasel Heart in Defiance I thought: I am about to embark on writing a novel that could 💯 be an original, standalone novel. And being a coward, I turned to my idiot OC Charlie, an imaginary friend since childhood, and asked:

Me: Charlie would you be able to be a protagonist of an original novel? because I’m scared?

Charlie: I have read the brief and am completely ineligible. I think you are only saying this out of fear, and because our initials are the same, and because I am short. Actually, the more I think about it, the more that is a microaggression (racism against short people), so no. No, and fuck you, and also -

Me: I was actually thinking of Killie -

Charlie: Killie would not take on any job that has so few horses in it.

Me: oh no -

Charlie: and you’re kind of committed to calling the story some variation of “weasel heart” and neither of us would have a weasel daemon. That’s kind of load-bearing, isn’t it.

Me: oh shit.

Charlie: like, and even if you sand the serial numbers off the rest of it, the whole point is -

Me: the weasel daemon, yeah.

Charlie: my daemon would be a potoo.

Me: it would NOT, you lying son of a bitch. It would be something backstabbing and horrible, with a core of utter ruthlessness. Like a poisonous spider.

(Charlie, hilariously, in a move that normal childhood imaginary friends/OCs do not normally pull off, briefly materialised as a hallucination while I was labouring in the drug-free, physically rather challenging delivery of a real human baby in order to laugh his ass off at me. He was presumably intended to materialise to give me courage. Instead he simply provided spite. I have longstanding Charlie beef.)

Charlie: Killie is a nice bloke in an awful way, if you like nice blokes who aren’t nice at all, but is too much of a mess to carry any sort of plot, and besides, his daemon is either something portable or a straight-up horse -

Me: probably a kestrel -

Charlie: Probably, as you say, a kestrel. God, there’s nothing between his ears at all. Elevator music. Lo-fi girl beats and the sound of the wind, overlaid over transparent montages of horses. Zero emotional life to Killie. He simply exists to ride alongside your parents’ car when driving, and to get shitmixed when he falls off, and to live up to mentally when you need to be stoic.

Me: he’s such a good ragdoll.

Charlie: he deserves it. It’s the punchable face.

Me and Charlie:… he needs a boyfriend.

[earlgreylatte]

Overture

A moment you only recall when it’s too late.

Nolan wonders how he got here, married to Debbie, a father to a toddler, and another one due soon. He tried to rationalize it. That he’s doing this so people like Cecil will trust his intentions, so that it seems like he’s integrating himself like Martian Man, that he’s one of them.

That it’s all for the mission.

But he knows that he’s slowly screwing himself over when you toddle to him, chanting ‘daddy’ over and over. When his wife calls him over to feel his second child kicking, strong and firm. When Art, who is becoming someone he genuinely likes, with his wit and comforting presence, convinces him to ditch the white Viltrumite outfit, for something more ‘iconic’, something heroic. Something that isn’t him.

He enters through the back like he always does, leaving the dark night behind, to enter the well lit and painfully warm home he’s called his own for a couple years now. You, who should be fast asleep, call out to him excitedly, waving around a stuffed dog. He picks you up, his hold delicate in a way he never had to be until he came to this planet.

“A new costume? Looks like Art finally changed your mind,” Debbie, his Debbie, comments from the couch, resting a hand on her stomach. “But, didn’t we agree that a toddler knowing her dad is a superhero isn’t a good idea?”

“I thought she’d be asleep, by now. Especially since you talk about how much a bedtime is needed whenever I let her stay up,” He responds, focused on your babbling; you’re telling him about your day. What can a toddler even do that’s remotely interesting? Yet, he’s enraptured.

“She refused to go to bed until you read her another part of your novels,” his wife smiles warmly, “She’s your number one and only fan, it seems.”

“She’s got taste,” he notes, a fluttering feeling in his chest. “I’ll get her tucked in. Looks like she wants to see how Space Rider’s story ends.”

“Make it kid friendly,” she calls as he ascends up the stairs, “And then come back so I can get a closer look at that new suit of yours.”

“What have you done?” You ask, fifteen years old and trying to wash the grime out of your suit in the bathtub.

Mark grins at you while posing in the mirror, wrapped in duct tape, “I’m going to be a hero like you guys, even if my powers don’t come in!”

“You’re still young, and not every Viltrumite is the same,” you reply, draining the bathtub and wringing out the excess water from your suit. “Don’t be in such a rush. You aren’t even thirteen yet.”

“Easy for you to say,” he retorts, “Besides, duct tape can literally do anything! You guys can beat up the bad guys and I’ll tape them up for the police!”

Inwardly you wince at the idea of him going against the maniacs you face every day. But instead you tilt your head in an act of show.

“You could only be a hero to leaky pipes dressed like that. And, it looks like dad just got home, so if—“

He doesn’t let you finish, instead sprinting downstairs.

You finish cleaning and disinfecting the tub, leaving your suit in your room to dry, heading downstairs only for Mark to rush by you, heading up to the washroom. Hopefully he’s patient enough to let the tape soak enough before ripping it off.

“That boy is never getting his powers, is he?” Is what you’re greeted with when you enter the living room, you quirk a brow at your father while your mom only smiles and hooks her arms around his neck.

“Don’t ask me, you’re the superhero, space alien. But even if he doesn’t, we’ll love just as much.”

“And don’t girls normally mature faster than boys or something? He could just be a late bloomer. I got my powers at thirteen so it could be any day for him now,” you piped up.

“Very true, now you two finish up dinner while I untape the boy,” your mom announces passing by you to join your brother upstairs.

You step to join your father at the counter, but falter when his face contorts with frustration, eyes focused on the stairs. He steps forward with his teeth bared like a dog about to attack, ignoring your presence for a moment.

“Dad?” You cautioned, approaching him slowly.

He steps back, the tension leaving him, looking almost distraught. You place a hand on his arm, and he almost crumples, shame filling his face before he hides it with his hand as you embrace him. Neither of you say anything, as he leans onto you before pulling away, a weight in his eyes and his brow still furrowed.

You two silently finish cooking and setting the table.

And when a tape free Mark runs down the stairs with an exclamation of hunger, your mom following behind him, the interaction goes forgotten.

Yes, the moments here are the ones from Eve’s special episode! Wanted to explore Nolan a bit more and his perspective!

Season 3 was so good that I had to make this a series…

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

[cakerybakery]

Dinner was going well. Charlie was a bit surprised. Since Lucifer came to live at the hotel and Adam revived almost six months ago, nearly every meal had been a battlefield.

Alastor picking a fight with Lucifer. Lucifer and Adam at each other’s throats. And that was on top of various dramas involving overlords and sinners.

But things were settling down.

Even when Alastor was trying to get under Lucifer’s skin, Adam seemed to have taken over calming things down. If calming things down meant, telling Alastor to quiet his ass up and for Lucifer to sit his ass back down, then interrupting Alastor every time he tried to make an excuse with a, “kid, I told you to shut up.” Alastor usually vanished after that.

Alastor had left for the night when Adam asked for someone to please pass the salt.

Lucifer handed it to Charlie, “please pass this to your mother, would you, darling?”

“Sure— what did you say?” Charlie blinked as several people started to choke on their drinks or food.

“ADAM!” Lucifer gave a hysterical fake laugh. “Slip of the tongue! I forgot for a moment, we— that. It’s I— Adam! Help me out here.”

“Fuck, no!” Adam wheezed between laughs. “You’re on your own, daddy.” He teased.

Lucifer shot Adam a dirty look as Husk tried to dislodge a piece of chicken from Angel’s throat.

“You might as well tell her.” Adam said still trying to get his breath back.

“Tell me what?” Charlie asked, glaring accusingly at Lucifer, who still fumbled over his words.

“It’s— well. Uhhh. Charlie, darling.”

Charlie pulled away as Lucifer reach for her hand. “Don’t tell me you two are dating.” She wanted to be supportive but that set Adam off again and the colour drained from Lucifer’s cheek marks.

“NO!” Lucifer glared at Adam. “I was going to tell her when I was ready! Asshole.”

“Seriously. Tell me what?”

Lucifer reached for her again but pulled away and fiddled with his cuffs instead. “The divorce is finalized. We signed the paperwork this morning. I’ve been a little distracted, thinking about your mother. Adam had been helping me the last few weeks to get up the nerve to sign everything.”

Adam winked and shot her a finger gun. “Not my first divorce. Been married and divorced six times now. Figured helping him rip the bandage off would net me some of those good karma points or whatever.”

“Oh.” That was all? She knew this was coming. Lilith took off all those years ago and Charlie often told herself Lilith was doing something important, but there had been all the fights, and her mom stormed out, and the divorce papers in the mail.

She knew. But her heart kind of hurt anyway. Things were never going back to normal. To how they had been when she was a kid.

“That’s good news!” She did her best to put on a happy face. “You guys weren’t happy anymore. It’s better than being miserable together.” She tried to remember some of the “So your parents are getting divorced, Champ” pamphlets she’d read when the divorce papers first showed up.

Stuff like, ‘It’s not your fault mommy and daddy aren’t together,’ didn’t seem applicable right now, but, “Sometimes people just grow apart, Dad. And it’s better if you two can move on and find happiness again.”

“You’re taking this better than I thought.” Lucifer smiled softly at her.

“Told you.” Adam had settled back in the eat his food. “She a tough kid. You did a good job with her.”

Lucifer flushed gold. “I—uh, thank you?”

“No problem.”

Dinner settled back down and Adam got his salt, getting plenty of ribbing about Lucifer slip of the tongue in.

Charlie started to clear the table, it was her turn that night, and Adam and Lucifer gave her thanks before leaving and looking closer than they used to be.

“Daddy up for a movie?” Adam teased, jostling Lucifer’s shoulder as they left.

Lucifer snorted. “You’re not going to let that go are you?”

“Never.”

“Turn about is fairplay, mommy.”

She could hear them as they went down the hall.

“Bitch, you think that bothers me? I’m too awesome to care. Now answer the question.”

“Depends on if mommy wants to watch that crappy Titanic movie again or something good.” Lucifer teased.

Adam faked a gasp. “That movie is a classic! It’s cinematic perfection!”

They wandered too far for Charlie to hear anymore of their conversation. But it left her wondering. She shouldn’t assume, but it seemed funny to her that it took someone new in her father’s life for him to move past the divorce at last. Maybe they were just friends.

…

But the mommy/daddy thing was weird, right?

[evermoreness]

polyjuice incident | wolfstar

summary: sirius and james decide to do the ultimate prank, swapping bodies for a day. but things took a turn when remus confesses his feelings for the wrong person.

masterlist

Sirius Black leaned over the bubbling cauldron, eyes gleaming with mischief as the thick, murky potion swirled inside. James Potter stood beside him, arms crossed, skeptical but intrigued.

“You know,” James muttered, “every time you get that look on your face, I question my life choices.”

“Oh, come on, Prongs,” Sirius grinned, ladling a portion of Polyjuice Potion into two goblets. “This is genius. One day. Just one day as each other. Think of all the things we could do!”

James raised a brow. “And by ‘we,’ you mean ‘you.’”

Sirius scoffed. “Oh, come on, Potter. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“So let me get this straight,” James said, tilting the potion under the dim candlelight of the abandoned classroom. “You want us to drink this… abomination, swap faces for a day, and—what? See how long we can fool people?”

Sirius grinned. “Precisely.”

James huffed a laugh. “You just want to see if you can get away with hexing Snivellus under my name.”

“Not entirely untrue,” Sirius admitted. “But also, I want to know if I can make McGonagall like me if I act like you. And, of course, you get to experience what it’s like to be unbelievably attractive for once in your life.”

James snorted. “Right. Because I’ve always been dying to know what it’s like to have people either in love with me or terrified of me.”

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. “See? Educational experience.”

James sighed “Alright. Let’s do it.”

“Alright, mate. Moment of truth.” Sirius held out two vials of murky, bubbling liquid.

James smirked. “You sure about this? You do realize I’m about to become the most charming bloke at Hogwarts.”

“Correction,” Sirius said, tipping one vial toward James. “You’re about to become me, which means you’ll have the unmatchable humor, hair, and good looks of Sirius Black. You should be honored.”

James rolled his eyes. “And you’ll have the unparalleled genius of James Potter. Try not to ruin my reputation in one day, yeah?”

Sirius grinned. “No promises.”

They clinked vials and downed the Polyjuice Potion in one gulp. Instantly, their bodies twisted, bones stretched, and faces morphed. James felt his hair grow longer, his nose sharpen, and suddenly—he was staring at himself.

Sirius, now wearing James’s face, let out a bark of laughter. “Bloody hell, this is weird.”

“Merlin’s beard,” James muttered, running a hand through his new wind-swept, perfect hair. “You weren’t lying. Your hair does do that naturally.”

Sirius, meanwhile, had abandoned all sense of dignity and was poking at his glasses. “Prongs, how do you live like this? It’s blurry without these things.”

James rolled his—Sirius’s—eyes. “That’s why I wear them, you prat.”

Sirius put on the glasses, blinked, then smirked. “Oh, wow. You are uglier in HD.”

James punched him in the arm. “You are me right now, idiot.”

Then the real fun began. They strutted out of the empty classroom, each wearing the other’s face, already thinking up ways to abuse this new power. But, of course, things went sideways before lunch.

James had never realized how much Sirius acted around Remus. Because as soon as he bumped into him in the common room, things got... weird.

Remus was lounging on the couch, reading a book with his usual cup of tea. He glanced up when James (who looked like Sirius) dropped onto the couch beside him.

“Hey, Pads,” Remus murmured, taking a sip of his tea.

James froze. Pads. Yeah, that was him now.

He tried to relax, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. “Oh, hey, Moony,” he said, attempting his best Sirius impression—cool, charming, effortlessly flirty.

Remus smirked. “That’s new.”

James blinked. “What?”

“You usually say something dramatic, like ‘Ah, Moony, come to bask in my brilliance?’”

James internally cursed. He was being too normal.

“Oh. Well.” He cleared his throat and attempted to smirk like Sirius. “What can I say? I’m maturing.”

Remus smiled, clearly enjoying James’ discomfort. "Still want help with defense against the dark arts?"

James tried to be as nonchalant as possible "Uh, actually, no need"

"But you almost begged me to teach you last week" Remus said, brows furrowed.

Sirius had begged Remus to teach him? Since when? James remembered really clearly that Sirius knew the entire book of Defense Against the Dark Arts from back to back.

"It's because— I just remembered that..." James had to think, fast. "That Prongs actually taught me everything already!"

"James doesn't even pay attention to this class" Remus said, still confused. "He almost got detention for not doing any of the homework assigned in this class"

"Hey!" James remembered that day, but no need to shame him right now. "Prongs is a very intelligent guy, he just struggles a bit"

James was now far too close to Remus Lupin, who smelled like parchment and cinnamon, and was looking at him like—like—was Moony always this intense?

“You alright?” Remus asked, voice quieter now.

James swallowed. “Yeah! Yeah, just, uh—long day. Very Sirius day.” He winced.

Remus laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a disaster.”

James let out a breath. “You have no idea.”

Remus narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head. “You’re acting strange today.”

“Strange?” James forced a grin. “I’m always strange. That’s part of my charm.” He shot Remus his best attempt at a Sirius-esque smirk.

Remus huffed a laugh, closing his book. “Merlin, you’re unbearable. But I suppose that’s why I like you.”

James choked.

“I—I mean, who wouldn’t like me?” he stammered, trying to recover. “I’m charming. I have great hair. I—”

Remus suddenly leaned in, his voice dropping lower. “And modest too.”

James swore his soul left his body.

Was this how Remus and Sirius usually talked to each other? How was Sirius alive?

Remus leaned back, watching him. “Are you blushing?”

“No!” James said, very much blushing.

Remus grinned. “You are.”

James cleared his throat, desperate to change the subject. “Er—so, Moony, fancy any, uh, girls lately?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Girls?”

“Yeah. Y’know. The opposite sex.”

Remus stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head with a quiet laugh. “Merlin, what has gotten into you today?”

James panicked. “Nothing! Nothing’s gotten into me! I’m just—just making conversation!”

Remus’s eyes glinted with something unreadable. “No, it’s different.” He leaned in again, resting his chin on his hand. “You know, Sirius, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re nervous.”

James was dying inside.

“I’m not nervous,” he lied. “I’m never nervous.”

Remus smirked. “Alright, prove it.”

James gulped. “H-how?”

Remus’s smirk widened. “Kiss me.”

James nearly screamed.

He could practically hear Sirius’s voice in his head, shrieking in horror. This was not part of the plan.

“Wh—what?”

Remus leaned back, laughing at James’s obvious panic. “Relax, Pads. I was joking.”

James exhaled so hard he nearly passed out. “Right. Obviously. Ha. Ha.”

Remus tried not to smile. "You really seem a bit off today"

Oh, bollocks. James cleared his throat and leaned in, deciding to channel Sirius as best he could. “Maybe I’m just enchanted by your presence this morning, Moony.”

Remus blinked, looking slightly caught off guard. Then, to James’ horror, he smirked.

“Oh?” Remus said, setting his book aside. “That’s funny. Because I was thinking the same about you.”

James nearly choked. WHAT. NO. NO, THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPENING.

“Oh,” he said weakly, because his brain was shutting down.

“Are you flirting with me, Sirius?”

James was dying. What was he supposed to do? If he didn’t flirt back, Remus would get suspicious. If he did, Sirius was going to murder him.

So, panicking, he gave Remus a wink and said, “Always, love.”

Remus’ smirk widened. "This is the Sirius I know"

Without warning, Remus just kissed him on the cheek, picked up his book and was already standing up. "Bye, Pads! See you at dinner"

James was screwed.

Sirius definitely would kill him.

Meanwhile...

Sirius, who was still giddy about successfully looking like James, had not anticipated being pulled aside by Remus.

“James, can I talk to you?”

Sirius blinked. “Uh, sure?”

Remus pulled him into an empty classroom, closing the door behind him. Sirius sat on a desk, pretending to be casual, but inside, he was panicking.

“So,” Remus said, running a hand through his hair, looking awkward. “I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to be weird about it.”

Sirius squinted. “Okay…”

Remus took a deep breath. “It’s about Sirius.”

Sirius nearly fell off the desk. “What about him?”

Remus hesitated before finally blurting out, “I think I like him.”

WHAT.

Sirius barely managed to keep his face from exploding. He could feel heat rushing to his cheeks.

Remus misinterpreted his silence as disapproval. “Look, I know it’s probably stupid, and he’s probably not interested, but I can’t help it. He drives me mad. He’s cocky and annoying and—”

“—unreasonably attractive?” Sirius offered before he could stop himself.

Remus sighed dramatically. “Exactly!” Then he paused. “Wait, what?”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Uh. Nothing. Carry on.”

Remus huffed. “I just—I don’t know what to do, James. I feel like he flirts with everyone, but lately? He’s been... different. Almost like he actually means it.”

Sirius swallowed thickly.

James was flirting with Remus.

He was going to murder him.

Remus gave him a hopeful look. “What do you think I should do?”

Sirius felt like he was short-circuiting. On the one hand, he wanted to tell Remus, Yes, I like you too, I’ve liked you forever. But on the other hand—he was supposed to be James.

So, instead, he just sighed heavily and said, “Maybe you should tell him how you feel.”

Remus scoffed. “Yeah, right. And get laughed at?”

Sirius shook his head. “No. I think he’d—um—be surprised. But not in a bad way.”

Remus studied him. “You sure?”

Sirius forced himself to nod. “Yeah.”

Merlin, James was so dead.

Some time later...

It took less than two hours for Sirius (still looking like James) to find James (still looking like Sirius) and tackle him to the ground. Peter Pettigrew had heard all the conversation James had with Remus in the common room, and of course, told Sirius.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Sirius whisper-screamed, his hands fisting James’ shirt.

James wheezed. “Mate, you saw him! He started it!”

“You winked at him.”

“I panicked!”

“You called him love.”

“I. PANICKED.”

Sirius groaned, rolling off him. “I hate you so much right now.”

James sat up, panting. “Well, good news. Remus totally fancies you.”

Sirius groaned, flopping onto his bed, straight to his pillow. They were in their dorm, of course, Sirius thought it was a great place to murder his best friend if he needed to.

James smirked. “C’mon, Pads. Don’t be a coward.”

Sirius peeked out. “…You think he’d actually want me?”

James rolled his eyes. “He literally said to your face, idiot, when he thought you were me”

Sirius blinked.

“…Oh,” he said quietly.

James folded his arms. “Remus likes you. And unless he regularly goes around telling blokes he wants to snog them, I’d say he has it bad.”

Sirius stared at the ceiling, his mind still catching up to what James had just said.

Remus liked him.

Not just in a casual, friendly way. No, the absolute lunatic had gone and developed real, actual feelings for Sirius.

Sirius’s heart was hammering against his ribs.

James nudged him. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Sirius swallowed.

For years, he had convinced himself that his feelings for Remus were one-sided. That all their flirting was just banter, nothing more.

But now…

Now, he knew the truth.

And suddenly, the idea of doing nothing felt impossible.

James grinned. “You’re gonna kiss him, aren’t you?”

Sirius groaned, shoving him. “Shut up, Prongs.”

James laughed. “I’d hurry if I were you. He might try to kiss me next time.”

Sirius threw a pillow right into James' face

"Ow!" It really did hurt. James groaned, dramatizing. "Stop being so jealous, i like Evans, idiot"

“In the name of our dear Merlin, Prongs, if you so much as think about letting Remus kiss you, I will end you,” Sirius gave him a look.

James, still very much looking like Sirius, just cackled. “I am you, mate! If he kisses me, technically, he’s kissing you! Shouldn’t that be a dream come true?”

Sirius groaned. “I hate you. I hate everything about this. Why did we do this?”

James patted his back. “Because we’re idiots, Pads. Brilliant, beautiful idiots.”

“This is a nightmare. My worst nightmare.”

James sat up, stretching. “Well, unless you plan on hiding me in here for the rest of the day, I’m going to have to keep pretending to be you.”

Sirius bolted upright. “You cannot be trusted!”

James raised an eyebrow. “What choice do we have? The potion’s got, what, four more hours?”

Sirius grumbled, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if he flirts with you again, do not encourage it. I don’t care if he backs you into a corner, if he sits on your lap, if he—”

“Wait, would he sit on my lap?” James asked, suddenly intrigued.

Sirius rolled his eyes, trying to change the subject. “Are you absolutely sure he likes me?”

James groaned. “For the last time, yes. He literally said, ‘I think I like Sirius.’ He said it to you, when he thought you were me. And, mate, you seen his face. He was serious—”

Sirius sat up, pointing a warning finger at James. “I swear on Merlin’s saggy underpants, if you make a joke about my name right now, I will hex you so badly your own mother won’t recognize you.”

James raised his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Fine, fine. But seriously—” (Sirius glared.) “—what are you going to do about it?”

Sirius flopped back onto his bed, groaning. “Die, probably.”

James threw a pillow at his face. “No, you absolute coward. You’re going to talk to him.”

“Yeah, well,” Sirius muttered, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. “What if I ruin it?”

James scoffed. “Mate. You already flirt with him constantly. The only thing that’s gonna change is that you’ll mean it this time.”

Sirius thought about that.

And suddenly—annoyingly—his heart did this stupid little hopeful flutter.

Sirius groaned again, shoving a pillow over his face. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

James clapped him on the back. “Atta boy.”

Sirius muttered, “If this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you first.”

James just smirked. “You’ll be too busy snogging Moony to hex anyone.”

Sirius threw the pillow at his head.

Keep going with the plan...

James barely lasted twenty minutes before Remus found him again.

This time, it was in the library, where James (as Sirius) had attempted to hide, hoping Remus would be too busy actually studying to seek him out.

He was wrong.

“There you are,” Remus said, dropping into the seat across from him. “I thought you’d be off terrorizing first-years or hexing Slytherins, but here you are, in the library of all places.”

James cleared his throat, forcing himself to lean back and smirk. “I happen to enjoy a bit of literature now and then, Moony.”

Remus snorted. “You mean smutty romance novels?”

“Hey, quality smutty romance novels.”

Remus grinned, resting his chin in his hand. “Alright, something is definitely wrong with you today.”

James tried to remain cool, but Remus’s sharp eyes were too much. He suddenly understood why Sirius was always a flustered disaster around him.

“Wrong?” James repeated, hoping he sounded casual. “Nope. Just my usual charming self.”

Remus hummed, tapping his fingers on the table. “You keep saying that. But your flirting is off.”

James nearly had a stroke. “What?”

“You’re usually more… effortless,” Remus mused. “But today, you seem—what’s the word? Flustered?”

James gulped. “Me? Flustered? Never.”

Remus’s lips twitched. Then, without warning, he reached across the table and trailed his fingers over James’s wrist.

James froze.

“So you wouldn’t mind,” Remus murmured, voice low, “if I did this?”

James’s brain exploded.

This was illegal. This was so illegal. Sirius was going to murder him.

But James had a job to do. He had to be Sirius. He had to act like this was normal.

So, summoning every ounce of willpower he had, James forced himself to smirk and say, “Course not, Moony. But if you want to hold my hand, you could just ask.”

Remus smirked right back. “I didn’t say I wanted to.”

James wanted to die.

“Tease,” he muttered, pulling his hand away.

Remus just chuckled. “Always.”

Meanwhile, Sirius—still trapped in James’s body—was losing his entire mind.

He had ditched his own attempt at hiding (which mostly consisted of sulking in the dormitory) and was now lurking around the library, peeking over bookshelves as he watched James flirt with his Moony.

“I hate him,” Sirius whispered furiously to himself, gripping the edge of a shelf.

“Who do you hate?”

Sirius jumped about a foot in the air, turning to see Peter staring at him in confusion.

“Prongs,” Sirius growled, realizing too late he was still wearing James’s face.

Peter blinked. “Er, aren’t you Prongs?”

Sirius groaned. “It’s a long, stupid story.” He turned back toward James and Remus. “I swear to Merlin, if he lets Remus kiss him—”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Wait. Remus might kiss you—I mean, him—I mean—?”

Sirius clamped a hand over Peter’s mouth. “Not another word, Wormtail.”

Peter made a muffled sound of agreement, and Sirius let him go just in time to see James standing up, stretching.

“I should go,” James was saying. “Y’know, places to be, people to impress—”

Remus grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back down. “Stay.”

Sirius almost fainted.

James, for his part, looked like he wanted to cry. “Er—okay?”

Remus tilted his head, studying him. Then, after a beat, he smirked. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”

James gulped. “Hiding what?”

Remus leaned in slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “That you like me.”

James, for the hundredth time that day, nearly dropped dead on the spot.

Sirius whimpered.

Remus, appearing completely unbothered, just smiled knowingly and stood. “See you later, Pads.”

And then, just to make things worse, he winked.

James waited until Remus was out of earshot before turning in sheer horror to where Sirius was (badly) hiding behind a bookshelf.

“What do I do?” he mouthed.

Sirius just stared at him.

Then, very dramatically, he turned around, grabbed the book and slammed it in his head. This was a very traumatizing experience for Sirius, and he really wished to unsee it.

Sirius was spiraling.

James—in his body—had just been told by Remus Lupin that he knew Sirius liked him.

And worst of all? That bloody wink.

Sirius had always thought himself unshakable—cool, confident, devastatingly charming. But right now, he was gripping a bookshelf like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

James was still staring at him in horror.

“Pads,” he hissed. “Pads!”

Sirius didn’t move.

“I think I’m going to die,” he whispered.

James groaned, marching over and grabbing his shoulders. “Get a bloody grip! We need a plan!”

Sirius snapped his head up, eyes wild. “A plan?! A PLAN?! The plan was to not flirt with Moony, and look how that turned out!”

James threw his hands up. “Mate, I didn’t try to flirt with him! He’s scary! I swear he can smell fear, and I was practically drenched in it!”

Well, yeah, Remus was a werewolf so this theory was not entirely false.

Sirius groaned, dragging his hands down his face—James’s face. “This is an actual nightmare.”

Peter, who had been standing quietly by the bookshelves, finally spoke. “Er… guys?”

“What?” Sirius and James snapped at the same time.

Peter pointed to the entrance of the library, where Remus had stopped just before leaving.

And now?

Now, he was walking back toward them.

James blanched. Sirius nearly screamed.

“Act normal!” Sirius whisper-shouted.

“I don’t know what normal is anymore!” James whisper-shouted back.

Remus was almost to them.

James did the only thing he could think of—he spun around, trying to look busy, grabbing the first book he could find and opening it.

Upside down.

Sirius, watching from behind him, whimpered.

“Hey,” Remus said casually as he approached.

James let out a noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a cough. “H-Hey, Moony.”

Sirius covered his face with both hands.

Remus’s gaze flicked to the upside-down book. “Good read?”

James looked down. Swore. Flipped the book over with a forced laugh. “Oh, y’know. Classic.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, then leaned over to glance at the title.

James followed his gaze.

Advanced Arithmancy Theories.

James nearly blacked out.

Remus grinned.

“You?” he asked. “Reading Arithmancy?”

James panicked. “Er—yeah! Big fan of…uh…numbers?”

Sirius gagged.

Remus crossed his arms, smirking. “Alright, what is going on with you today?”

James glanced at Sirius in desperation. Sirius shook his head violently.

“Nothing!” James blurted. “Just… having a weird day!”

Remus hummed, watching him carefully. Then, with the most infuriatingly amused expression, he said, “You know, I don’t mind this Sirius.”

James blinked. “This… Sirius?”

Remus smiled, tilting his head slightly. “The one that gets all flustered around me.”

James made a strangled noise.

Sirius, behind him, grabbed Peter’s arm in a death grip.

“I do not get flustered,” James tried to argue.

Remus’s smirk widened. “Mm. Sure.”

James could feel Sirius vibrating with suppressed rage behind him.

Remus leaned in slightly, eyes dancing. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re hiding something from me.”

James gulped. “M-Me? No! I don’t—why would you think that?”

Remus studied him for a moment, then gave a slow, knowing smile. “Alright, Padfoot. I’ll leave you be.”

James nearly melted in relief. “Right. Brilliant.”

Remus turned to leave, but before he walked away, he casually reached out—

—And brushed Sirius' long hair out of his face, well, James' face.

Sirius died.

James stiffened like a corpse.

Remus just chuckled and walked away.

The moment he was gone, Sirius grabbed James and shook him.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

James flailed. “I DON’T KNOW, HE’S A MENACE—”

Peter, who had been watching everything, whispered, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Sirius turned on him. “DON’T START, WORMTAIL.”

James, still reeling, exhaled sharply. “Well. You’re screwed, mate.”

Sirius groaned. “I know.”

“You have to talk to him. Properly.”

“I know.”

James nudged him. “And you have to tell him the truth. About your feelings.”

Sirius inhaled sharply. Exhaled. Then, begrudgingly—

“I know.”

The aftermath

The moment the Polyjuice Potion wore off, James let out a massive sigh of relief, rubbing his own face as if he had just escaped certain death.

Sirius, meanwhile, was pacing back and forth in their dormitory, running his hands through his own hair again. Thank Merlin. He felt like himself again.

“Okay,” James said, throwing himself onto his bed. “I’m free. My debt is paid. I am never pretending to be you again.”

“You think you’re relieved?” Sirius snapped, spinning to face him. “You didn’t have to watch yourself—me—getting bloody seduced by Moony.”

James snorted. “Seduced? That was barely anything, Pads.”

Sirius shot him a look so deadly it could have rivaled the Killing Curse.

Peter, sitting on his bed, shook his head in amazement. “Y’know, I still can’t believe Remus flirted with you that much.”

Sirius threw his hands up. His mind suddenly realizing. "Because he knew." He said in almost a whisper.

James and Peter blinked.

“What?” James said slowly.

Sirius groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “He knew it was you the whole bloody time! He had to! Moony is not an idiot!”

James sat up straighter. “You think?”

Peter looked between them, eyes widening. “Oh. Ohhhhhh.”

Sirius pointed aggressively at Peter. “Exactly.”

James considered this, then said, “Yeah, that actually makes way too much sense.”

Sirius flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. “He did it on purpose. He wanted to humiliate us.”

James smirked. “Well, mission accomplished.”

Sirius groaned. “I hate him.”

Peter snorted. “No, you don’t.”

Sirius sighed, rolling onto his side. “I really, really don’t.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then James clapped his hands. “Right! So. Now that Moony clearly knows about your massive, embarrassing crush, what’s the plan?”

Sirius glared at him. “Plan?”

James leaned forward. “The plan, Pads. The confession. The I’m in love with you, Remus, please snog me senseless moment.”

Sirius made a choking noise.

Peter tilted his head. “Y’know, he did kinda make the first move. Multiple times.”

Sirius groaned. “That was him teasing. He wasn’t being serious.”

James smirked. “Well, maybe it’s time you were.”

Sirius sat up sharply. “You want me to tell Moony I like him?”

James nodded enthusiastically.

Peter nodded too. “Yeah, we’d really like to stop hearing you talk about it in your sleep.”

Sirius froze.

James grinned.

Peter, completely unbothered, continued, “Last week you sighed and whispered, ‘Moony, your eyes are like—’”

Sirius lunged at him. “SHUT UP, WORMTAIL.”

Peter cackled, dodging him.

James clapped his hands again. “Right. Enough stalling. Pads, you’re going to go find Moony, right now, and actually talk to him.”

Sirius hesitated. “What if he was just messing with us? What if he doesn’t—”

James grabbed his shoulders. “Sirius. Mate. He knows you like him. And he clearly likes you too. So get off your dramatic arse and do something about it.”

Sirius swallowed.

Then, without another word, he stood, inhaled deeply—

And walked out the door.

Moments later...

Remus was sitting by the fire in the common room, legs stretched out, a book in his lap, looking perfectly calm. Too calm. Like someone who had just set an elaborate trap and was waiting for it to be sprung.

Sirius stopped in front of him, heart pounding.

Remus didn’t even look up. “Oh, finally.”

Sirius blinked. “Finally?”

Remus turned a page in his book. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to grow a spine.”

Sirius gaped. “You knew.”

Remus finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I knew.”

Sirius’s brain short-circuited.

Remus smirked. “I’m a werewolf, Sirius. You two could swap faces, voices, mannerisms, but you can’t swap scents.” He shrugged. “I knew the second James walked up to me pretending to be you.”

Sirius sputtered. “And you—you let him—you flirted with him!”

Remus leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Oh, that?” He smiled sweetly. “That was just for fun.”

Sirius clutched his chest. “You’re evil.”

Remus smirked. “A little.”

Sirius groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Why do I like you so much?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

Sirius froze.

The fire crackled between them.

Remus’s smirk faded into something softer, something real.

“Sirius,” he said quietly. “Just say it.”

Sirius swallowed. Inhaled.

Then, voice steady, he said, “I like you.”

Remus’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “How much?”

Sirius let out a breathless laugh. “Too much.”

Remus’s lips twitched. “Good.”

Then, slowly, finally, Remus reached for Sirius’s wrist, tugging him down until their faces were inches apart.

Sirius’s heart was hammering. “So, uh. What happens now?”

Remus smiled. “Well.” He tilted his head. “You could kiss me.”

Sirius barely had time to breathe before he did exactly that.

[fictionalcharactersownmyheart]

Light of the Flame

Touya x f!reader

‘We can’t know each other anymore, Touya. I’m a pro-hero now.’

Those words hit him like a punch to the gut. A pro-hero. Of course you were. Because you were perfect and good and everything he’d never be.

After waking up for the first time since that night at Sekoto Peak, Touya thought he would spend the rest of his years in solitude. He had no idea how wrong his prediction would be.

contains: strangers to friends to enemies to lovers, yes wild I know, slow burn, canon-typical violence, will follow the canon for the most part, hawks shows up in later chapters, fluff and angst

note: This fic begins with Touya and the reader at 16, though it'll soon get to them when they're older. I’ve always wondered how Touya lived during those years when he was on his own, before joining the League, which inspired this. I’ve written more chapters on AO3 already, but I’ve decided to put the first chapter here. Not sure if I’ll continue posting this one to tumblr, so if you’re interested pls do keep reading there! Link is at the bottom.

Chapter 1 - A Convenient Arrangement

When Touya was thirteen, he thought he’d died.

He woke up three years later to blinding lights and the sickeningly colorful walls of a nursery in a body he couldn’t recognize. Older, taller, and scarred.

The strange people he woke up to told him to stay, but Touya doesn’t do what people want. The only person whose words carry any weight is his father. He’d go back home, his father will welcome him back, and he’d be trained by him as before. And… Touya would make things right. He’d go to his family, apologize, and everything would be good again.

That fantasy shatters when he discovers the same cold, oppressive house. Unchanged. Through a crack in a doorway, Touya sees his replacement: a boy in familiar poses, fists clenched, face set in a look of raw determination. He sees his father, eyes angry and proud, training his new project without hesitation. There was no pause for the son he had lost. Did his death mean so little to them? That’s how fast they forget?

Replaced and forgotten, Touya clenches his fists and leaves the house with a rage simmering like embers reigniting into flame. With nothing to his name, he’d nicked a few items from a convenience store and made an abandoned building not far from the city his home. It would have to do.

He steals a laptop to entertain the mind. He finds a mattress in the abandoned building, dirty and decaying, but it was no worse than returning to the house he grew up in.

He spends hours - days, weeks - watching videos of Endeavor, learning his techniques. In that way, he was still being trained by him. Videos of people praising Endeavor fills his heart with endless rage, and it’s enough to drive him to wake up the next morning.

Touya quickly accepts that this would be his life for the years to come. It'd be a life of solitude, but his chance at a normal life died three years ago at Sekoto. He would be better alone. He’d train, and swore to eventually expose his father. Touya would often envision the confrontation - his father’s face twisting in disbelief as he laid bare the truth. He envisions a face of regret, of pain, and sometimes he envisions his father in awe of how far his quirk had come. Though he never envisions the latter without pure, unbridled hurt accompanying his father’s expression.

As he sits in the corner of the room lost in these thoughts, a month into his solitary routine, a sound breaks through the silence.

Footsteps echo through the building.

Touya tenses. The sound ignites panic in his chest, but he quickly shakes it off. Whatever. He’d burn his way through, as usual. He stays silent, listening attentively. There's only one person, it seems. The footsteps become louder. He prepares to see some criminal - who else would enter an abandoned building? But that's nothing he can't handle-

A girl his age walks in, adorning sportswear. You.

He observes you quietly, his body relaxing all at once but his mind still on guard. You don’t notice him and put your bag down, sighing. The stress of school has been catching up to you, so you regrettably haven't been able to return to this building in a while.

As you turn you see a white haired boy - wearing a black jacket, loose jeans and slouched in the corner of the room - and let out a startled yelp, jumping slightly.

"Oh my god! Holy shit- sorry, I’ve never seen somebody else here before-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Touya snaps, his defenses rising again. He was curious at first, but now all he registers you as is a nuisance.

Touya doesn’t know how to deal with you. This building doesn’t belong to him. Also, the most he’s ever done was burn down that nursery and steal. Can he really threaten some girl away? Or worse?

You freeze for a moment, taken aback by his tone. You give him your name. "I’m… I’m usually here to train. I haven’t seen you before." You take note of the light pink burn marks on his face.

"Well, I haven’t seen you, and I’ve been here for a month." He shoots back.

You huff. "That’s because it was exam season. Couldn’t come for a bit. Didn’t you have that too?"

He pauses. There’s no need to reveal information about himself. But also, he hasn’t had a real human conversation in three years. He decides he can let himself entertain this. "I don’t go to school."

"Oh, shit" That’s when you notice the mattress, the resources at the back - right. You really screwed that one up, well done. "Oh, well, I’m sorry." You pause. Clearly he needs this space more than you. You consider leaving, finding another building, but this is the closest one to your house. "...D’you mind if I continue training here?"

"Yes”

"Okay great-"

"I said yes. I do mind."

"Oh."

He sees you stuck in place, clearly hesitant to leave. He feels the need to tell you to fuck off, to leave him alone, but a month alone with nothing but Endeavor's face on a screen had become a little unbearable. "…you said you were training?"

You grin, an eager spark igniting in your eyes. "I wanna be a pro-hero-" Touya immediately groans, "-I know it sounds like some stupid dream everyone has when they’re, like, twelve. My quirk isn’t much right now, but in theory, it could be super useful."

He eyes you up and down. For an aspiring pro-hero, your frame is a little weak. You don’t hold yourself with confidence- and, shit. Now memories of training with his dad come rushing back to him. He quickly pushes them aside. "What’s your quirk?"

Oh, so now you look excited, he notices. You eagerly extend a hand out slightly, pointing a finger. The light from the setting sun pouring into the window becomes a little dimmer, and you create a projection of a small, glowing bird flying through the air. Light manipulation? It lands on Touya’s shoulder. He can feel a slight weight. No. That, and light materialization.

He looks at you unimpressed. "That’s it?"

You panic. "Wait- don’t you see? If I manage to create bigger things- I could make any weapon I’d like. I could also materialize light under my feet as I step, and then I’d be able to travel through air- look, I’ve been trying-"

He observes as you lift a foot. Sure enough, he sees a slight glowing platform form underneath.

"But it’s not strong enough yet to carry my weight" you continue, "It’s a work in progress."

Your determination feels oddly nostalgic, Touya thinks.

"What about you?" you chirp up, "What’s your quirk?"

He hesitates. He creates a blue flame in his hand, and you gasp in awe.

"Pretty flame… and powerful. God, you’d make a great pro. You’d easily get into UA."

He ignores the pro-hero comment. That’s a dream he can’t entertain again. "UA? You trynna go there?"

You nod. "Mhm. Their entrance exam is in a few months. Otherwise… My parents really want me to go to a normal highschool. But they’re willing to hear out my stupid dream for a little, I guess",

"Stupid dream, alright" Touya mutters, mulling over something. He figures he can turn this situation in his favor. After all, what good is training if he can’t practice against someone? You seem pliant. He’s sure asking some villain to fight with him would be more trouble than he needs at this stage. And if he does tell you to get out, he’ll have to find somewhere else to stay incase you tell somebody, which he sure as hell doesn’t want to do after spending ages finding a suitable building. He could also… get rid of you, or threaten you, but given that he’s currently working with nothing, maybe you can be of use. After a pause, he looks at you directly and decides to speak. "You can keep training here. As long as you train with me."

You look at him dumbfounded, eyes widening. What? "You would? You’re not messing with me?”

"Yes." He doesn’t know if he should find your reaction irritating or amusing. You seem naive and harmless enough that you wouldn’t go talking. Plus, you’ve been training in this dump. Doesn’t take him long to figure out you’ve been keeping your little training sessions private. "I need a sparring partner."

You have no idea who this dude is - hasn’t even given you his name - but you mull over his suggestion anyways. He seems confident in his abilities. Anyone else you’ve asked to train with you has brushed you off. So…

"Okay. Yes."

He stands. "Alright, we start today." He walks to stand directly in front of you, but retains a good distance. "Can you defend yourself?"

You sheepishly respond. "If you throw a ball at me, I can materialize a light shield and deflect. Figured that one out during dodgeball…"

He hums. "What about a flame?"

Your eyes widen a little, "I think that’s too much of a jump-"

"Gotta try."

With that, he ignites a small flame, its blue glow brightening the room. You brace yourself, anticipating his next move. He launches fire toward you, and you instinctively create a barrier of light, absorbing the impact whilst flinching away. The heat washes over you, and you can feel the strain of maintaining the projection.

"You need to be faster."

"That-" you look at him incredulously "you almost killed me!"

He rolls his eyes, scoffing. "That would’ve given your arm a burn at most. Do you want training, or not? You’ll face worse at UA.”

You huff, crossing your arms. "Give me a moment to prepare next time. And make your fire weaker-"

He laughs, slightly taunting but genuinely amused. His attitude irks you. Fine. You send a materialized boomerang at his face. He dodges easily.

"Easy there. Predictable, try harder." Touya’s smirk widens. Holy shit, he muses. He forgot what having fun was like.

He sends flames at you again - weaker this time, you note - and with much effort and frustration you create barriers. He continues until he notices that they’re becoming weaker.

"You need to counter-attack."

"I’m trying-"

"Then try harder.”

He continues his attack. You try your best, using one hand to shield, the other to send materialized darts at Touya. It’s the best you can do, for now.

"These darts are weak-"

"I can’t make anything stronger whilst I shield-", you shoot back in frustration.

After an hour of training, you suddenly let up, exhausted. You didn’t land a single hit. Touya stops his fire, barely tired, running on an adrenaline high. You try to catch your breath.

"Maybe-" you try to calm your breathing, panting, "Maybe they’re right- maybe I’m not suited for this- my quirk just isn’t made for it-"

Something about your resignation hits Touya harder than it should. A surge of heat rises through him, though he’s not angry - at least not at you. Another memory flashes in his mind.

"That’s not true." The words slip out before he can stop himself, coming out harsher than he expected like you’d just insulted him. He then stays silent, closing his mouth, unsure of how to follow that up.

"No, but it is-"

"You’ll train." He speaks against his own will again, with more conviction than intended. "You’ll train, and you’ll get better. You’re spouting bullshit."

"But you see, I suck-"

"Yeah you do. But that’s temporary." He wants to deck himself. Since when was he the type to comfort? But maybe, he knows exactly what you need to hear right now. And he can’t stop himself.

You look at him a little shocked, his encouraging words contrasting his harsh attitude from earlier. Your surprised reaction annoys him, and he’s about to throw an insult to make up for his words until you respond. "Okay…. Yeah, you’re right. I think I’m done for today, though…"

He watches you carefully as you pick up your bag, seemingly lost in thought.

"Are you always here?"

His immediate reflex is to say no. Because a normal person wouldn’t stay in an abandoned building all day. Because a normal person would have a family, or friends, or a hobby - but he doesn’t have any of that, not anymore. He only goes out to steal, and to use the public showers at a sports center.

"…yes" He hesitantly responds. "Yes, I am."

"Okay. I’ll be back then, weekly around this time. Or- well, I didn’t consider when you’d want me here."

"Anytime. Don’t care."

You stand there, pausing for a moment. He still hasn’t told you his name, you point out to him. He considers his options, then concludes you’re harmless enough. You won’t know any better.

"Touya."

You smile. "Okay. Well, nice to meet you, Touya. I hope I can be a good training partner… eventually."

He hums. He watches you wave at him and walk out of the building and the sun goes down. He sits back down on the rusty mattress, and for the first time he becomes acutely aware of how quiet the building is. There’s no hum from the air conditioning, no sound of Fuyumi and Natsuo playing in the courtyard, no sound of his mother running a bath for Shoto - no sound of the world moving on without him. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

His mind wanders back to you. He wonders whether he’d made a mistake agreeing to let you stay. I’m just using her, he thinks. It’s a convenient arrangement. I can actually spar with someone. Don’t have time for silly shit. She’s just using me, too.

But as he sinks into the worn mattress, a nagging thought lingers. A small, stupidly hopeful thought that creeps into the back of his mind - that maybe, for the first time in his life, he would worth something to someone. Touya hates to admit it, but he craves more of the admiration you expressed when he showed you his quirk.

He pushes down that thought as quickly as it comes, replaced by the satisfying image of his father looking up at him in anguish again. Right.

[lemotmo]

I’m curious to see the response Ryan gives for his personal thoughts on what’s going on between Buck and Eddie.

But at the same time I’m not excited for the melt down it’ll probably cause since he still can’t give anything away so people are gonna end up dooming 💀😂

Listen, at this point I've given up on asking people to use their common sense. We've been saying this over and over again, but for some reason there are always people that will see the worst in these interviews and who spiral and doompost afterwards.

What do they possibly expect Ryan to say? He can't just come out and say:

"Hey everyone! Guess what?! Eddie is gay!!! And he desperately wants to bone Buck!!!! WHAT ABOUT THAT BUCK AND EDDIE THING HUH?!!!! YOLO!!! LOL!!!"

So yes, he'll skirt around the topic and he'll say some deep and meaningful things about the Buddie friendship and how important it is for Eddie. I expect him to tease a little and give some vague answers, but that's really the only thing he can say. 🤷‍♀️

And like clockwork, people over on Twitter will start yelling that he is baiting them. Pffff, seriously-- if it wasn't for some good sources, I would have deleted Twitter ages ago.

The influx of some newer fans (both BT and Buddie) when Buck came out as bi has made the 911 fandom a worse place to be in my opinion. Some of these people are ruthless. The way they talk to professional journalists is appalling and downright rude. I always have so much second-hand embarrassment when I read some of their comments.

((I'd like to make a note here that I'm not talking about ALL new people in fandom, just some of them and most are over on Twitter. I've met a lot of lovely new people here on Tumblr who know how to behave normally and who are genuinly excited to join this fandom. Welcome to all of you!!! Seriously!!! It's nice to have some new voices and fresh input.))

As the second anon said, some of them were almost threatening Jeff Conway, telling him that the fandom would be upset with him if the interview didn't give them what they wanted. I mean... WTF?! This guy interviewed an actor of a TV-show. He is only going to write about what Ryan said. This isn't life and death here! It's just a silly little TV-show interview!

This isn't even about fandom etiquette anymore. It goes beyond that! This is about human decency. Just because you are online and anonymous, doesn't mean that you get to act like a total *sshole towards an entertainment journalist or towards actors and other fans for that matter. I have seen some vile Ryan hatred on Buddie-Twitter. Safe to say I blocked all of them.

I truly don't get it. How were these people raised? Didn't their parents or guardians ever talk to them about kindness and decency? Did some of them grow up with social media without any kind of supervision and somehow it desensitized them to normal human behaviour and social cues? What went wrong?!

I don't know you guys. Maybe I sound old to some of you.🤷‍♀️ But I've been in fandom spaces for a very long time now, so I know what I'm talking about.

Whenever I speak up about something like this, I get messages in my inbox calling me a 'boomer'. I didn't know that asking for simple human decency and politeness made someone a 'boomer', but if that is the case, I'll gladly take that title. Because some of these fans' behaviour on Twitter is seriously getting out of hand.

So really, the message here is: Stay away from stan-Twitter if you can, but if you like it there (no judgement 😋 You do you!) do make sure to block wisely, even within the Buddie fandom if necessary. Don't share, reply or make screenshots, because none of us should condone or share these people's shitty behaviour.

[evenpeaks]

ABSO FUCKING LUTELY !!!!

I’m going to cover my main appeal: the writing. I have watched and read a lot of shit. This is, without a question, one of the best things I have ever watched. The characters are incredibly human and believable, and it’s very hard not to like them. There’s so much depth to them, and they feel like people you’d meet IRL!!!

The story beats, as well, are amazing. I can’t go into too much detail without spoilers but it is just fucking fantastic !!! They switch effortlessly between comedy and horror (episode 2 is a prime example of this) and seamlessly mix in lore dumps in between.

There is one MC with a normal name (Marckus my wife). you also get Slut Grandpa: Big D, Door and his son Boy, Horse the actual irl Horse and most dedicated catboy ever Kitten. They are all competent dumbasses and I love them!!!!! None of these people are normal :)

Also I think you would like it bc I think everyone would like it. Very good. Fav show for a reason thank you ogre poppenang I’ve never theorized more about a show it’s so good

Okay, I think most of you guys living in America are awake now. So, question.

Should I watch Hunter: the Parenting?

If I should: convince me.

[terrainofheartfelt]

Okay so the thing about Sally Rooney is she is so good at third person limited unreliable narrator and sitting in the complexity of people and letting them be ambiguous and messy and imperfect and then she’ll hit you with a line of prose that butterflies you open like a shrimp

[myokk]

fast sketch of my one-shot with Ominis💓

legilimency

Word count: 1.700

Rating: M (language)

Ominis Gaunt is a lost case - lost to the whims of one very determined Gryffindor sitting at his side.

They sit in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the only two students not lulled to somnolence by their professor. He: trying his hardest to focus on Professor Binns’ droning (easier said than done). She: trying her hardest to distract Ominis while not being entirely sure of being successful or not (easier attempted than understood).

Professor Binns is completely insufferable, of course. Ominis wonders if the ghost is as blind as he is: Binns willfully ignores the fact that all of his students use his class as an excuse to get a nap in (maybe he simply doesn’t see them sleeping - only one of many reasons why Ominis has decided he could never be a professor), rambling on and on in the most boring way possible. As if he were trying to be as dull as possible (maybe he does it to avoid interacting with the students which…can’t be to blame). In a different life, Ominis could see himself quite liking the subject, but as things stand he despises it.

Especially now.

Ominis fervently wishes that he could fall asleep.

Then, he might avoid hearing her thoughts - they’re consuming him and he can’t ignore them as much as he would like to.

Normally, he loves this class - not the subject, obviously - but the class itself, for the sheer fact that it is the only time where he gets some peace and quiet. Everyone’s minds nice and quiet and shut off for the time being while they sleep. Although he has gotten used to ignoring the thoughts of everyone around him, their various voices mixing and mingling with each other into a dull thrum in the back of his mind, it is nice to have some quiet once in a while.

But right now, with everyone asleep except for the Gryffindor at his side, her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming at him.

So here he is, wishing he could fall asleep, leave the class, maybe turn off the infernal legilimency that has haunted him his whole life.

(His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

He is stuck listening to her.

It doesn’t help that she seems to have caught on to him - something he had managed to avoid until now. Nobody else, not even Sebastian or Anne, has ever suspected a thing. But, in all fairness, those two are extremely loud and say every single thought that passes through their minds out loud even when they should remain quiet, and nobody else has had the opportunity to spend enough time with Ominis to begin to suspect anything.

Until her.

He had to go and let that blasted girl worm her way into his life, not leaving him alone ever, always looking for excuses to talk and ask his opinion, and being so intelligent that he wanted to invite her to study with him and talk with him and…

Since it happened a few nights ago, he hasn’t stopped cursing himself for that stupid offhand comment he made. They had been studying in silence in the library together, by the history books where nobody else ever ventures (thank you, Professor Binns), and he could have sworn that she asked him if he was finally going to walk her back to her common room (he blames a lack of sleep and wishful thinking for this mishap). His traitorous face had flushed and he had jumped at the chance to escort her - maybe she would let him carry her bag, or… - only to feel his whole body go cold and his stomach drop when her response wasn’t what he’d expected.

A pause: then: a confused voice: ‘Ominis, I didn’t say anything.’

His Gryffindor wasn’t stupid like Gryffindors were normally wont to be. He knew her, and he knew that after his monumental mistake, the gears in her brain were turning and he was terrified that somehow she had figured it out.

(His Gryffindor?)

She had been unusually quiet around him since then, although he bitterly noticed that she was still acting normally with everyone else. Still finding every opportunity to punch Sebastian in the shoulder and laugh with Anne, still whispering with Natsai about Merlin knows what, still…

But she had been avoiding Ominis. He couldn’t stand it.

Well, avoiding him right until this stupid class, when she had to go and sit right next to him (ignoring the fact that she always sits next to him in History of Magic, that everyone already has and adheres to their unofficial seats), and he can’t ignore her.

She’s pretending to take studious notes, but he knows better. The scratching of her quill blending with the droning of Professor Binns’ voice but not drowning out her thoughts. They float above the other noises, her voice sweet and piercing. Ominis wonders vaguely what she’s actually writing, because he’s positive it isn’t notes.

Professor Binns looks so sexy right now with his medieval hat, talking about…whatever it is he’s passionate about. I wonder if he would let me talk to him after class without floating through me like he normally does…

Ominis is determined not to react. She’s obviously trying to bait him. But…what if she is attracted to Professor Binns? Is he an attractive man? At the thought, the fist that’s resting on top of his desk clenches, but he works to make sure his face remains impassive. Apart from a twitch of his lips, he thinks he’s been quite successful.

She: huffing and shifting in her chair, her robes rustling as she crosses her legs. He: keeping his head facing forward, steadfastly ignoring her.

She changes tactics.

Maybe she’s just as insufferable as the other Gryffindors, after all.

I wonder what Ominis would say if he knew I woke up moaning today after a dream about him -

He shifts slightly in his seat, hoping that she’s so busy taking notes (who’s he kidding) that she won’t notice his discomfort as his trousers tighten -

…the girls in my dorm have been bothering me nonstop about who I’ve been mooning over but I don’t want them to…

His hand is in such a tight fist it’s a wonder he’s not breaking any fingers as he tries to remain as still as possible, but his traitorous arousal is making her thoughts harder and harder to ignore. Had he ever been able to ignore her?

…his tongue was deep inside me as I screamed his name…

He feels his face heat up at the thought - where had she learned such vulgar language? - and his whole body stiffens. He’s sure that she can feel the tension and warmth radiating off of him in waves but that…she…his insane little lion keeps shouting at him in the silence of the classroom. She’s now stopped all pretense of taking notes and is sitting stock still.

…his cock deep inside of me as…wait…what else did I hear Garreth say to Leander that night?…um… She shifts uncomfortably, her knee grazing Ominis’s as she moves to squeeze her legs together. It’s all he can do to not groan and remain impassive. Oh god…I…what’s that feeling? This was just supposed to get back at him for probably - maybe - reading my thoughts and I’m officially insane because how would he even be able to do that?…his ears turning red from embarrassment are so adorable and I can’t stand this anymore and…

Ominis tries his hardest not to move his head in her direction. His jaw flexes. Maybe he can drown her out if he starts reciting potions ingredients, or if he focuses on what Professor Binns is saying, but even he knows its futile. He’s hanging on to her every word - thought? - and his head slowly turns in her direction as she keeps going.

…does he know how much I think about him? Oh god, what if he dreams of me the same way I…

He slams the open book in front of him shut, the loud noise causing Sebastian to jerk awake and babble incoherently for a moment before slumping back over his desk, drooling and snoring lightly. Nobody else in the class seems to notice except her of course. Blissfully, she has stopped talking - thinking - and he can finally -

It’s no use. He needs to get out of there. She has invaded his mind and…What if she starts up again with her filthy thoughts that are bleeding into his own and -

Did he hear me? I didn’t actually think…oh god, can he hear me now? What have I done?

Ominis very slowly brings his hand over to where he knows hers is. The quill falls out of her hand and he hears a sharp intake of breath at their contact. His fingers trace her knuckles and then he slowly trails them up her arm. His fingertips are so sensitive that he could swear that he feels every thread that he passes, her skin warm and alive underneath the fabric. Then to her neck, her throat bobs and he feels her erratic heartbeat. Finally, he reaches her face. She remains very, very still as his fingers brush over her features for the first time.

He has never touched someone like this before.

Her skin is like velvet, soft everywhere he touches. Now that he knows what it feels like he’s not sure he can go back to before. His fingers trace the curve of her eyebrows - he finds that her nose is straight before it flares up a tiny bit at the tip - his fingers ghost over her impossibly soft lips. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip as her tongue darts out to wet them. It’s impossibly intimate and the world has melted away and it’s just the two of them in that moment.

He leans forward.

“Ominis, I…” she whispers, stricken.

His hand moves to tuck some of her loose hair away from her face - does she always wear it like this? - and his lips brush against her ear. He inhales deeply, her sweet smell invading his senses. She shivers under his touch and he breathes, “I heard everything.”

[shima-draws]

Ideal ending to WCI is Luffy seeing Sanji cry and then awakening his devil fruit and unlocking Gear Fifth out of sheer RAGE and saying the classic line of “Who made you cry, Sanji?! I’ll DESTROY THEM!!!” and then proceeding to go on a rampage and fucking absolutely EVERYBODY up including the Vinsmokes, Pudding, AND the Big Mom Pirates. Toss in the trope of came back wrong and Sanji can immediately tell something is not right about this Luffy, whose smile is too wide, whose eyes are too distant, who continues to beat upon his enemies long after they’re down, who seems to take a sick sort of pleasure in hurting others, who grins and giggles and tells Sanji he’ll obliterate anything that makes him cry. Eventually he starts to scare Sanji so bad that even Luffy notices his reaction, and immediately turns on himself because if HE’S the one making Sanji cry then he’ll just have to destroy himself too. And that’s when Sanji finally leaps into action and does whatever he can to reach Luffy—including kissing him. Luckily that was exactly what Luffy needed to snap out of it, and when he comes to the Whole Cake Chateau is in broken pieces, the Big Mom Pirates are battered beyond fighting and the Vinsmokes are nowhere to be seen. And softly, tiredly, he asks if they won, if he can bring Sanji home, and Sanji cries again and says yes, take me home to the Sunny, I want to go home with you.

Meanwhile the rest of the Strawhats are like

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Outdrawn

f/f contemporary romance

two cartoonist who’ve been rivals since uni, and now have competing webcomics online, have to work together on the relaunch of a cult classic at the comic press they both work at

they both struggle with art-related physical and mental health issues, and complicated families

[anaceshornyblog]

What if we put MonsterJon in the unethical experiment cube and Jonah was in charge of researching him. I think this would fix me.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.