#THE QUIET KNOWING AND UNDERSTANDING PASSING BETWEEN THEM

[daeniradraconis]

Banter Between the Lines - Hughes Brothers

Author's Note: Hey, so here’s another quick chat-style piece! I haven’t had much time to sit down and write properly lately, so short and sweet it is for now. 😊 Feel free to send me some requests if you’d like! (You can check out the "rules" here: link). I can’t promise when I’ll get to them, but I’ll definitely find time soon.

Summary: A little fluff with a touch of smut (nothing too crazy, just some extra flirting). Quinn’s girlfriend roasts the boys while calling them out in their group chat.

Warnings: Nothing major, just some mention of 🍆.

It was one of those quiet Sunday nights where everything felt slow. You'd spent the evening catching up on your favorite shows, but it was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was Quinn. The constant distance between you two had become harder to ignore with each passing day, and as much as you loved how happy he was with his team, you missed him. And, truthfully, you missed the whole family.

You’d gotten close to Jack and Luke over the years, and now, with Quinn playing for the Vancouver Canucks and Jack and Luke together on the New Jersey Devils, the family dynamic felt a little more spread out than you liked. Sure, they’d all make time for you when they could, but it wasn’t the same as those days when you’d all hang out together.

Tonight, instead of a call or a quick text, you decided to turn to something a little more familiar. You opened up youtube and searched for their latest highlights.

All three of them were struggling on the ice, and it showed. It hurt to see them like this, especially when you couldn’t do much to help. So you did what you always did in times like these—opened the group chat and prepared to roast them into oblivion. If nothing else, it might make them laugh.

you: just finished your highlights. Quinn, congrats on being the saddest guy on the ice again 🥇. Jack, loved the mini tantrum energy 👏. Luke, did you forget which team you play for? because those turnovers were next-level.

Jack: wow, you really woke up and chose violence.

you: always. someone has to keep you humble.

Luke: humble? this feels more like a personal attack.

Quinn: what would you call it, then?

Luke: bullying.

you: oh, Lukey, don’t take it so hard. I tease because I care 💕

Jack: you literally plotted my ex’s demise last month. is that “caring” too?

you: first of all, it wasn’t a plot. it was more of a… fantasy.

Quinn: putting her in the ground “while she’s still breathing” doesn’t sound like a fantasy…

you: listen, if she hadn’t been such a manipulative little snake, I wouldn’t have had to consider it 🐍

Luke: terrifying. but honestly? fair.

Jack: I could’ve handled her myself, you know.

you: oh, really? because from where I was sitting, she had you wrapped around her finger like a puppet.

Quinn: she’s not wrong!

Jack: whose side are you on?

Quinn: hers. always.

you: damn right honey. and don’t worry, I’m not plotting her demise anymore… unless she tries to come back. then all bets are off.

Jack: remind me to never date again. you’re scarier than Quinn’s slap shot.

You grinned as the banter flew back and forth, but your focus shifted to Luke. His disastrous date still didn’t sit right with you.

you: okay, but seriously, Lukey. I've heard some gossip. how does a girl ditch you mid-dinner? you’re literally the sweetest human alive.

Luke: THANK YOU! finally, someone gets it.

Jack: don’t encourage him. he needs to toughen up.

you: excuse me? let him be sweet! not every guy needs to have your level of 'I’m too cool for feelings,' Jack.

Quinn: valid point.

Luke: thank you, Quinn.

you: honestly, Luke, I’ll never understand how she left. did you say something weird?

Luke: no!!! I was perfectly normal.

Quinn: “normal” is a stretch…

Jack: is this really the same guy who told a girl on a first date he’d make six different accounts just to sort himself into Hufflepuff six different times because he didn’t 'trust the algorithm'?

Luke: OKAY, THAT’S DIFFERENT. I was being honest!

you: oh, Lukey. you’re lucky you’re adorable because that is painful 😂

Luke: this is why I didn’t want to tell you guys.

Quinn: bro, it’s fine. just embrace the awkward puppy vibe. it’s clearly your brand.

Luke: I hate you.

Jack: ugh, why does he get the sympathy? roast him more guys!!! I can’t be the only one taking L’s here.

you: because Luke doesn’t put ketchup on his eggs like a serial killer, Jack.

Luke: yeah, what is WRONG with you? ketchup on eggs? really?

Jack: you people are so dramatic. it’s normal.

Quinn: nothing about that is normal.

you: thank you, Quinn. once again, the only rational person in this chat.

Jack: stop flirting with my brother. it’s disgusting.

Luke: seriously. I can feel the weird vibes through my phone.

You smirked, knowing exactly how to push their buttons.

you: you’re just mad because Quinn’s risotto is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Quinn: best risotto AND lasagna. don’t forget!

you: how could I? it’s the only reason I keep you around. And of course your magic 🍆

Quinn: oh, not my sparkling personality? btw you're objectifying my body...

you: hmm… maybe that too. but i have my priorities straight!

Jack: 🤢 STOP. this is disgusting.

Luke: seriously. this is TMI guys!!

you: just jealous, you two can’t even scramble eggs properly.

Quinn: cooking skills = key to a woman’s heart.

Luke: ugh. golden child strikes again.

Jack: some of us don’t need to cook because we have charisma, thank you very much.

Quinn: does your charisma excuse ketchup on eggs? because it shouldn’t.

Luke: still the biggest red flag in this chat.

Jack: Y’ALL ARE SO DRAMATIC.

You smiled at their bickering, your heart full, untouched by their chaos.

you: okay, but for real… I miss you guys 💔.

Luke: aww, finally some love.

Jack: are you feeling okay?!

you: don’t get used to it. but yeah, I miss you. Quinn, risotto night when you’re home! Jack and Luke, you can come eat it too.

Quinn: deal. but I’m ignoring them for the first hour I’m back. i need my time with you!

Luke: RUDE!

Jack: gross. is this the flirting portion of the chat? can we not?

you: love you too, boys. even if you’re disasters.

Jack: love you too. now stop flirting with Quinn before I puke.

Luke: seriously. save it for your own chat.

Quinn: jealousy doesn’t look good on you two.

Luke: jealous of what? your cooking? maybe. your 🍆? absolutely not.

you: you should be Lukey! your brother got some great 🍆

Jack: I’m OUT.

Luke: same.

Quinn: good job hon. guess it’s just us now. you: just how I like it 😘

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Just Friends

There's a part 2 (but works independently)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  Franco Colapito x Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: cursing✯

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His hand had rested casually on her waist all evening, a gesture so simple yet so comforting that it left a radiant, almost triumphant smile on her face. At that moment, she felt undeniably wanted, utterly enough, and unmistakably his. Meeting his friends had felt like a monumental step in their still-blooming relationship, yet everything about it seemed effortless, as if this was exactly where she was meant to be. It was a lively celebration—he was Argentinian, after all—marking the beginning of his racing career.

She felt herself leaning into his touch, the warmth of his hand securing her in the chaos of the evening. It wasn’t something they ever really discussed—this easy intimacy between them—but it had grown naturally, like a quiet understanding they both shared.

At one point, someone across the table, a friend of a friend she didn’t really know, leaned forward with a playful smirk. “Okay, I have to ask,” they said, pointing between the two of them. “How long have you two been together?”

The question caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, and her cheeks acquiring a subtle shade of red, the radiant smile that had been lingering on her face freezing in place. She glanced at Franco instinctively, unsure of what to say.

Franco, however, didn’t miss a beat. He let out a light chuckle, his grip on her waist loosening slightly as he leaned forward, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Oh, we’re not dating,” he said casually, shaking his head. “We’re just friends.”

Just friends. She tried to keep her expression neutral, her lips curling into a polite smile as she quickly looked down at her drink, suddenly very interested in the condensation on the glass. She felt something break very badly inside of her, sure that if the ambience had been less loud, there would be some auditory proof of it.

“Really?” the friend pressed, raising an eyebrow. “You two seem… close.”

Franco shrugged, his tone easy and unaffected. “We’ve known each other forever. She’s one of my closest friends,” he said, glancing at her with a warm smile that made her heart ache just a little. “That’s all.”

She forced herself to laugh lightly, as if she wasn’t affected at all, as if her heart had not been brutally assassinated by merely two words. “Yeah, nothing romantic,” she added, her voice steady.

The conversation moved on quickly, the group returning to their lively chatter and jokes. Her mind was felt like a scratched record, iterating over those two words. Just friends. Franco’s hand had slipped away from her waist, and suddenly, she felt unmoored, the radiant glow she’d been basking in all evening fading into something much colder.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the joy she’d felt earlier replaced by a gnawing sense of uncertainty. She couldn’t stop wondering if his words had been an honest reflection of how he saw her—or if they were just a way to keep things uncomplicated in a world that already demanded so much from him. Perhaps she was just lying to herself…

The closeness returned once they were back in the Uber, his thigh brushing against hers in the most familiar way. She seemed devastated, though her expression could easily be mistaken for simple exhaustion. Perhaps that was why he stayed silent, not just with his words but with his hands, refraining from his usual playful touches.

He stepped into her place, turning around to face her with a smile lingering on his lips. “I know you're exhausted and everything, but—” “Just friends?” she interrupted sharply, her tone a far cry from gentle as the door clicked shut behind her.

The abruptness of her question caught him off guard, his expression morphing into one of genuine confusion, which only fueled her already simmering anger.

“Franco, I don’t fuck my friends,” she snapped, her voice trembling as her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her frustration coloring her cheeks a deep red. 

The bluntness of her words, the utterly devastated expression on her face, hit him like a ton of bricks. He stood frozen, unable to summon a response, as if her pain had rendered him mute.

She huffed, her breathing ragged with a mix of anger and hurt, her gestures frantic and unsteady. "Do you just look at all your damn friends like that? Do you kiss them like that? Do you fuck them and tell them they’re yours?" she shouted, her voice trembling with emotion.

The silence that followed was deafening, long and stretched, the kind that tore through her like a blade. Her teary eyes pleaded for an answer, for anything, but his hesitation was all the confirmation she needed. She had been a fool.

A groan of pure frustration escaped her, her hands running through her hair as she tried to hold herself together, unsuccessfully. “Are you being dead serious right now?” she yelled, but the fire in her voice was fading, melting into sadness that threatened to engulf her.

Franco’s jaw tightened as he watched her, the rawness in her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. He didn’t move closer—he didn’t dare. Instead, he looked down, raking his hand through his hair, the tension in his posture undeniable.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he finally said, his voice low and uneven. “But... I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

Her heart sank at his words, her worst fears confirmed. She blinked back tears, forcing herself to stand tall, even as the weight of his confession threatened to crush her. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, her voice trembling but firmer than before.

Franco hesitated, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for an escape, for anything but the heartbreak written all over her face. “I didn’t think it would get this... complicated,” he admitted, his words slow and deliberate. “I care about you—a lot. But I don’t know if I’m ready for something... serious. For labels. For all of this.”

Her chest tightened, her throat burning as she swallowed back the lump rising there. “You don’t know if you’re ready?” she repeated, her tone filled with disbelief. “Franco, we’ve been acting like a couple for months. You kiss me, you stay over, you hold me like I’m the only person in the world. But when it comes to actually saying what this is, suddenly you’re not ready?”

He winced at the frustration and hurt in her voice, but his hands stayed planted at his sides, his shoulders stiff with unease. “I didn’t plan for it to be like this,” he said, his voice soft but defensive. “I didn’t plan for you to mean this much to me. I just thought we’d have fun, you know? Keep it casual. And now... it feels like more, and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

She took a step back, her arms wrapping protectively around herself as though shielding her heart from his words. “So, what?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “You get to decide when this is real and when it isn’t? You get to act like you want me but not actually take responsibility for it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he replied quickly, his voice rising as if to cut through her pain. “I’m trying to be honest with you. I don’t want to lead you on. I just—” He stopped, his words faltering under her intense, tear-filled gaze.

“You already did,” she blurted out, her voice so hurt it made him shiver.

Franco’s head dropped, guilt heavy on his shoulders. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to fix this. He had been so sure of his boundaries, so certain that they could keep things simple. But now, as he looked at her—hurt, angry, and so heartbreakingly beautiful—he wondered if he’d been lying to himself all along.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long silence, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean for it to get this far.”

“Well, it did, Franco. And you don’t get to take it back just because it’s inconvenient for you now,” she uttered.

She turned away, grabbing the door handle as her breathing hitched. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice cracking. “I won’t be some ‘casual’ thing for you to figure out when it suits you.”

She held the door open, her hand gripping the edge tightly as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. Deep down, she wished he wouldn’t leave. She wished he’d turn around, cross the distance between them, kiss her like it was the last time, and tell her he loved her too much to walk away. But he didn’t.

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language, and I hope you liked it <3

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

is there someone else?

(Satoru gojo xreader angst part 2)

Last part

Part 1

(I used chat gpt to fix my grammer!)

Part 2 : is there someone else?

The morning light crept into the apartment, stark and unforgiving, illuminating the cold, empty space you had left behind. Satoru sat at the table, his head in his hands, the smell of untouched dinner still faint in the air. He was the strongest, they said, but in this moment, he had never felt weaker.

His phone buzzed on the table. Utahime’s name flashed across the screen for the third time that morning, but he ignored it again. He couldn’t bear to hear her voice, not when it would only remind him of the destruction he had caused.

Satoru Gojo was a man who could bend reality to his will, who stood at the pinnacle of strength and invincibility. But none of that mattered now. None of it could bring you back.

He had faced curses that could tear apart the world, adversaries that brought armies to their knees but he couldn’t face you. He couldn’t fix the cracks he had allowed to spread in the one thing that had made him feel human.

You sat on a bench by the harbor, your knees pulled to your chest as the salt-tinged breeze stung your face. You hadn’t slept. The night had passed in a haze of wandering, of replaying every fight, every word, every bitter silence.

Gojo Satoru, the man who could shatter mountains and tear through dimensions, had made you feel like nothing.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket again, and you didn’t have to look to know it was him. He was trying, but it was too late or at least, it felt that way.

You swallowed hard as the memory of his hesitation surfaced again, the way he had frozen when you’d asked, “Do you love her?” That pause was louder than anything he could have said.

What was worse was how easily you had believed it how deeply you had let his silence confirm your worst fears.

When Satoru found you later that morning, you were still sitting by the lake, lost in thought. He approached hesitantly, his usually confident steps faltering. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say.

You glanced at him as he sat down beside you, leaving a careful distance between you.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. The sound of the waves filled the silence, a cruel reminder of how far apart you’d drifted.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Satoru. Sorry doesn’t make me forget how you made me feel.”

He flinched but didn’t argue. “I know,” he admitted. “I just… I don’t know how to make this right.”

“Then why are you here?” you asked, your voice trembling. “To say what? That it wasn’t what it looked like? That you didn’t mean to make me feel like I was nothing?”

“Utahime and I…” He trailed off, his words catching in his throat. “She’s someone who understands parts of my life I don’t know how to explain. She’s familiar. She’s… safe.”

“Safe?” you repeated, your voice breaking. “And what am I, Satoru? A risk?”

“No,” he said sharply, his voice cracking. “You’re everything. That’s the problem. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. You make me feel vulnerable. And I didn’t know how to deal with that, so I…” He buried his face in his hands. “So I screwed it all up.”

You stared at him, your heart aching at the sight of the man who always seemed untouchable now crumbling before you.

“You could face the worst curses in the world without flinching,” you said softly. “But this us was too much for you?”

He looked up at you, his eyes raw and unguarded. “I know it sounds pathetic, but yes. You terrify me, because I don’t know how to protect this. How to protect you. I thought I could keep everything under control, but I couldn’t. I failed you, and I hate myself for it.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You’re right. You did fail me. And I don’t know if I can forgive that.”

Satoru’s shoulders sagged, his head hanging low. “I don’t blame you if you can’t. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you if you let me.”

You stood, your legs unsteady beneath you. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, but the pain in your chest was still too fresh.

“I need time,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to figure out if this is something I can survive.”

He watched as you turned to leave, his heart shattering with every step you took.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world, could save countless lives, could win every battle thrown his way. But as he sat there, alone on that bench, he realized that this was one fight he couldn’t win. Not with his strength, not with his power.

And for the first time in his life, he wondered if being the strongest meant nothing at all.

@anonnieghost @a-s-illustrations @kawaiithingtraveler

FOLLOW FOR TAG!

[jaredpadonlyyyy]

𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝘼𝙆𝙀𝘿 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙈𝙊𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙒𝙀𝙀𝘿

• 𝙉𝙊 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏

• 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿����𝙄 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙃𝙄𝙂𝙃, 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘽𝙀𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝘼𝙆𝙀𝘿

You and JJ were hanging out at the chateau, it was one of those days were you wanted to leave home because your dad was drunk and you knew what was coming, you couldn’t handle seeing how he would treat your mother, and how after she would get so drugged out, that he would continue onto your little brother, but you would always take his place. So before it could happen, you packed a bag for him and yourself and took him to your grandparents house and left him there with them. Told him that you will be back in a few days as he still didn’t understand what was going on. Since he was four years old still.

John B was at work, so the chateau was alone at the moment. John B always lets you stay and his dad had even given you your own room from when you wanted to escape your home. Currently you and JJ were passing a joint between the two of you both of your with your legs up on the walls as you laid on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as the light of the day shines inside the room. “You okay?” JJ asked after a while. Since you didn’t talk at all since you had gotten to the chateau. You sigh as your eyes got watery and you looked over at the blonde boy you’ve been in love with since the fourth grade, it was when you met him

You shook your head but you looked away trying to hold back your tears. “Honestly, I’ll never be okay.” You told him. JJ always understood her home situation as he’s gone through it with his own father as well. So they both had found comfort in each other. It was either between smoking weed and have sex, or just have sex or just smoke weed. You knew he didn’t like you that way, but as long as you felt what it’s like to be loved by him, touched by him, you didn’t mind. Love wasn’t in your mind as all you were worried about, was what were you and your baby brother were going to eat that day. The money that your father makes, always goes onto drugs and a lot of alcohol. You were in charge of paying the rent on time, the bills weren’t sometimes paid because it was not enough money. So you would shower at either the chateau or at your grandparents house or at Kie’s

“Yeah, I get it.” He said as you both looked at each other. He passed you the joint as you sat up and you took off your cropped top letting your breast come out. “What are you doing?” JJ asked you as you took a hit of the joint. His blue eyes falling onto your pink hard nipples. “Let’s get naked.” You told him as you stood up on the bed and wiggled out of your sleeping shorts, leaving you completely naked in front of JJ.

You’ve both have seen each other naked. Since it wasn’t the first time having sex with each other. JJ’s eyes wonder lower to your pussy and he felt himself twitching inside his swim trunks. Since you worked out, you had the perfect tight little body, fit, small. “Come on, it feels good being naked.” You told him as you sat back down on the bed, bringing your legs up to your chest as you passed him back the joint.

He stood up taking off his shirt along with his swim trunks and his boxer shorts. Your eyes falling onto his soft dick. Even it being soft, it looked long and you loved it. Both of you laid back down on the bed in the same position you were initially and passed a joint after another. By the time you were both done. You were both giggling as JJ had said something funny.

Both of you stayed quiet as you both enjoy the peaceful moment together, enjoying your high you felt happy at the moment, it was always your favorite place to be with JJ, in moments you needed him, he was always there to console you in any way you want.

Whether it was just sex, or hanging out. He was just always there. No one but him understood you.

“You know what we should do?” You said as you turn your body towards JJ’s. “Have sex?” He said as you giggled. “No! I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but that’s not the point. The point is, that when we turn 30 and we haven’t gotten married, we should just marry each other and have like 20 kids.” She said making JJ smile as she said that. “20 kids?” He asked her as he turned his body towards hers as well. “Yeah, I mean, why not.” She shrugged as his hands reached over and placed his hand on her hip, giving it a light squeeze. “I mean, I’m down, but 20 kids?” He said.

“Okay, fine, 30.” She said making the blonde boy laugh, making her giggle.

“You want to know something?” JJ asked her as she calmed down and looked at him. “What’s that?” You asked him. His ocean blue eyes on yours as he softly smiled. “I love you.” He said making you smile fade as he said that. It didn’t sound like the I love you’s he will tell you all the time. That one sounded different.

“W-What?” You nervously laughed as he moved his naked body closer to yours. “I’ve been in love with you, since. I don’t know. A long time.” He said to you. “JJ.” You said his name softly as he inched closer to you. “If you don’t feel the same. It’s okay.” He said.

But as you were about to answer, the door to the room opened. “Hey— oh god!!” John B yelled as his eyes widen. “John B!!” You quickly grabbed your pillow covering your naked body from his view. JJ just laughed at how red your face has gotten from being caught. “Don’t you know how to knock!” You yelled. “Sorry!” John B yelled from the other side of the door. “Next time fucking knock!” You yell at him.

“We’re not done talking.” You told JJ as you stood up and got dressed, really hoping there was some kind of news about the gold they have been looking for.

This was supposed to be a smut! But I got lazy in doing it, and I don’t want to write smut all the damn time anymore. It feels like I’m a sex addict of something lmao. Anyways ENJOY! Next one will be a smut! ✌🏻🙂💋🫶🏻🤍🤍🤍

PS, PS!

If you see she and you ignored it! I was used to writing she that I sometimes do it!

[gs29]

The Family Meeting

Squid Game Master list

The apartment was quiet as Gong Yoo paced in front of the crib, looking down at the baby in his arms. His son, only a few months old, had just fallen asleep after his usual evening feed. Gong Yoo was still in awe of how quickly time had passed since the day his life changed forever.

His wife, you, stood beside him, gently running your fingers through his hair as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Are you ready for this?”

Gong Yoo exhaled slowly, a small, somewhat nervous smile tugging at his lips. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, glancing at the sleeping baby, then at you. “It’s strange, isn’t it? The way things change… I never thought we’d be here, bringing him to meet him.”

You nodded in understanding, your hand resting on his arm. "I know. It’s been a long road, and the path’s not always been clear. But… In-ho has always been a part of our lives, in one way or another. It feels like it’s time.”

Gong Yoo looked at you, his gaze soft but filled with a quiet intensity. “I just want to make sure our son grows up in a safe world. A world where he can have a better future… without all the shadows that came before.”

You smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “And he will. We’ll make sure of it.”

After a moment of shared silence, Gong Yoo adjusted his hold on the baby, carefully picking him up again. The tiny bundle in his arms felt so fragile, but so full of promise. Today was important. Today, they would meet someone who had been integral to the past—someone who, in his own way, had helped shape the future Gong Yoo was working hard to build. The Frontman.

The drive was silent, both of you lost in thought, the baby nestled between you two, content and unaware of what was about to happen. Gong Yoo’s mind raced with memories—of the struggles, the difficult decisions, and the man who had once stood as an enigmatic figure in his life. He’d always known there was a deeper connection to In-ho than either of them fully realized at the time. But now, as a father, Gong Yoo’s priorities had shifted.

When they arrived at the compound, the place felt as imposing as ever. The gray stone walls loomed above them, casting long shadows that stretched across the yard. Gong Yoo paused for a moment as he looked at the familiar architecture, the memories of what had transpired here haunting him for just a beat longer than he’d like.

You squeezed his hand as the two of you approached the heavy door, a reminder that things had changed. “He’s different now. I know it’s not easy, but he’s still a part of your life… and ours. It’s time we brought our family together.”

Gong Yoo gave you a small smile, his expression softening. “I know. I just… never thought I’d be introducing our son to him.”

The door opened slowly, revealing a figure standing in the dim light. In-ho. The Frontman. He stood there with his usual calm demeanor, the kind of presence that made you feel like time itself had stopped. His expression was unreadable, but there was a quiet respect in his gaze as it shifted from you to Gong Yoo.

"You’ve arrived," In-ho said, his voice as measured and controlled as always, but this time there was an unspoken understanding between the three of them.

Gong Yoo stepped forward, the baby still resting in his arms, his hands gently cradling him as if the weight of the world rested there. “We’ve been meaning to bring him here… introduce him to you,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of something softer underneath. “This is Joon.”

In-ho’s eyes flickered to the baby, his gaze softening for a brief moment before he approached, his steps deliberate but slow. “Joon,” he murmured, as if testing the name on his tongue. “He is… small, yet so much potential.”

Gong Yoo chuckled softly, the warmth of the moment reaching his heart. "He's just starting out. But already, he's brought so much joy."

In-ho took another step closer, pausing when he was just a few feet away from the family. He looked down at the baby with something unreadable in his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. It was a silence full of meaning, full of unspoken history, but also full of promise.

"You’ve come far, Gong Yoo," In-ho said, his voice low and almost soft. "I never imagined the day would come when I’d see you here, a father… bringing your son to me."

Gong Yoo met his gaze, the weight of those words settling deep in his chest. "We all change, In-ho. I’m not the same man I was."

In-ho nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile pulling at his lips. "I can see that."

The baby stirred in Gong Yoo’s arms, letting out a tiny sigh. Gong Yoo adjusted him, his gaze returning to In-ho. "I know things have been complicated between us, but now… it’s just about family."

In-ho looked at the baby again, his expression momentarily softening, a rare flicker of emotion breaking through his usually stoic mask. "Family," he repeated. "A concept I never quite understood until now."

Gong Yoo glanced at you, a soft, contented smile spreading across his face. “We all have our own path. But Joon… he’ll have a future full of love.”

In-ho took a small step back, regarding the family with an inscrutable look. His next words were quiet, almost a whisper. “He will be strong. You’ll make sure of it.”

Gong Yoo nodded. "We will. We’re going to give him the life he deserves. A life free from shadows.”

For a moment, the three of them stood in quiet understanding. Gong Yoo could feel the weight of the past and the hopeful promise of the future. In-ho’s quiet presence wasn’t intimidating in this moment, but rather a reminder of what had been, and of what could be.

The Frontman gave a slight nod before speaking again. “Take care of him, Gong Yoo. Your son will grow up in a world that’s different from ours… but don’t forget, you’ve made your choices. Those choices will shape him more than anything.”

Gong Yoo’s grip tightened around his son. "I know. And I’ll protect him with everything I have."

In-ho turned his gaze away, looking out at the compound beyond. “Then, I will respect your path. He is your family now.”

Gong Yoo and you both exchanged a glance, the weight of the moment finally starting to settle. Gong Yoo smiled, his shoulders relaxing, a feeling of resolution passing through him. "Thank you, In-ho."

With a final, almost imperceptible nod, In-ho stepped back, disappearing into the shadows of the building.

As you walked back out into the cool night air, Gong Yoo glanced down at Joon, the baby still sleeping soundly. You smiled at him, and Gong Yoo’s gaze softened as he looked up at you.

“We did it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re giving him a different future. A better one.”

You squeezed his hand. “Yes. A future full of love.”

And with that, they walked home together—Gong Yoo, you, and little Joon—no longer bound by the past, but free to create the future, one step at a time.

[pinkkkkat]

and through it all…

hi guys! butcherqueen headcanons because they’re on my mind lately (nobody asked for this but i wanted to write them)

content warning/synopsis: sfw & nsfw, no crash au

shauna shipman has a penchant for pretty popular girls. she was best friends with jackie from birth, and she liked being around girls full of life. it brought out a happier version of herself

lottie is no exception to this. they first meet during freshman year, when jackie drags shauna to tryout for the soccer team, and they meet a fellow freshman, lottie. they’re all a bit out of their depth; first year in high school, shauna was just now growing boobs and lottie wasn’t quite sure how to handle her newfound height. a sort of quiet camaraderie is born between the three of them, rooted in nerves and opportunity

shauna likes lottie enough, at first. lottie is a bit odd, sometimes she says things that don’t make a whole lot of sense to anyone but herself, but she’s friendly and funny and she sticks up for shauna when randy makes a lame comment in her direction, and she’s fierce about it to. shauna likes her a lot more after this

once shauna is comfortable around lottie, she shares a bit about what she writes in her journal, how she works through her feelings about things. she talks to lottie about her catholic saints, and why she feels suck a pull to their tragedy. there’s something dark in her somewhere, she tells lottie, and the saints understand her in a way that other teenagers don’t really

lottie shares her family woes with shauna, about how much pressure she feels from her dad and how scared she is of people finding out about her diagnosis. shauna is a big fan of listening quietly and holding lottie’s hand

i think the first time they kiss goes a bit like this: lottie tells shauna that she really likes the way her dress fits her at the celebration after they win nationals, and shauna proceeds to jump her bones. like, they’re making out in front of the whole team

shauna does not care who knows about her and lottie. she smacks lottie’s ass in public, she’s borderline hanging off her tall girlfriends waist no matter where they are, and bites at lottie’s bicep when lottie’s is talking to somebody else. lottie loves it, she smiles down at shauna and bats her away

lottie and jackie fight sometimes just because jackie will occasionally overtake shauna. lottie gets passive aggressive and bitchy when jackie changes shauna’s radio station, or when she insists on their dorm colour palette for after high school.

“pink and green is gross jackie, don’t assault our eyes with that shit”

when guys try to hit on lottie at parties, shauna gets crazy. she immediately is stepping in between lottie and whoever the guy may be, and she’s just about growling when she tells them to “back the fuck off”

lottie is into it, this possessive thing that shauna gets going with

i know i said it before but lottie loves to buy shauna things. cassettes, clothes, leatherback journals and fountain pens, lunch every day, soccer cleats and gas for her car, and the vhs copy of every daria episode as soon as it was available

shauna is not butch guys. shauna gives boyfriend like all the time, what with her flannels. and such, but she is nooooottt butch. this is a femme for femme thing, just so you know

lottie loves to do shauna’s makeup. specifically, when shauna is done everything else, lottie likes to come and kiss her, and then do her lipstick all cute and focused

public nuisances. like i said, shauna is a big pda fan. but also, lottie loves to make shauna laugh out loud with stupid jokes or silly ramblings

queens of passing notes in class. shauna’s are way longer than necessary and lottie’s response will be like three words and fourteen doodles or stick figure versions of them kissing

also queens of scream-singing in the car, it literally does not matter what’s playing, wether it be a radio or an album that shauna is super into, or jackie’s top forty mix that was left in the car, they’re screaming it. lottie pretends her water bottle is a microphone, and she’s holds it in front of a driving shauna whenever shauna’s favourite songs/lyrics come on

they’re fucking in the bathroom at parties. lottie lives to eat her girlfriend out, seriously. she’s yanking shauna into the bathroom of somebodies random house, picking her up to put her on the counter, and sinking down to her knees enthusiastically. shauna likes to pull lottie back to her feet when she’s done, and mark up lottie’s neck with hickies while she fingers her from her spot on the counter

they’re fucking in shauna’s car, too (shauna shipman, queen of fucking in cars)

the girls love to pick at them in the locker room, especially because lottie always always always has hickies and teeth marks somewhere. if not littered across her neck, it’s her sides, her navel, the tops of breasts, her upper thighs. van wolf whistles and nat pokes shauna, asking if she’s secretly a vampire (or a vacuum cleaner, jackie adds)

i truly think they don’t let it distract from their game on the field, though. they’re ferocious players, and when the team wins, they’re the first bodies to smack together in a celebratory hug

oh also! given the opportunity, shauna cusses lottie’s dad out like there’s no tomorrow. like, rips him a new one. lottie cries a bit about it, and shauna holds her the whole night, whispering in her ear about how she deserves so much better than that

shauna calls lottie “babe, pretty thing, my girl,” and lottie calls shauna “baby,” and “sexiest woman alive”

shauna studies english lit at brown and lottie follows her to rhode island and rents an apartment while shauna is in the dorms, and fucks around for half a year before she decides to go into business, just to see if she likes it (she does not)

lottie brings shauna snacks and coffee in the library all of the time. shauna then rants about shitty classmates or rambles about whatever she’s working on for twenty minutes, mouth full of muffin or something, and lottie just smiles at her softly and keeps a hand on the other girl’s leg

when shauna gets stressed out or overwhelmed and snaps at lottie, lottie pouts until shauna apologizes and kisses the pout away from her lips. lottie doesn’t mind, and grants shauna grace most of the time

shauna “mary jane’s and kitten heels” shipman, lottie “platform docs and stilettos” matthews

lottie actually does finish her business degree, and maybe opens a high end vintage store or something. or maybe a bookstore, for shauna

shauna “forever student” shipman, lottie “living off her trust fund” matthews

lottie does yoga like every day, and shauna makes fun of her for it but doesn’t complain because oh my god lottie is so flexible what the fuck

okay bye guys this is all i have right now :p

[dakotalover1]

imgonnagetyouback

Spencer Reid x Reader (Rossi's Daughter)

It’s almost effortless, the way Spencer and I toggle between being on and off. When we’re off, there’s never a question of him seeking out someone else—it’s just not who he is. For one, his casework keeps him impossibly occupied, and for another, we both know the truth: no one will ever hold him like I do. No one will ever unravel him the way I have.

People on the outside don’t get us, and I can’t blame them. To them, Spencer is the genius, the prodigy with his nose buried in books, his mind running laps around theirs. But they don’t see him the way I do. They don’t know the Spencer who can whisper something wickedly clever into my ear and leave me breathless. They don’t know the Spencer who catches me off guard with a smile that feels like a private joke. They’ll never know the man who’s sexy without trying, whose mystery keeps me coming back for more. He’s an enigma I can’t stop solving, even when I think I’ve got him figured out.

To the outside world, our relationship might look like a puzzle, fragmented and strange—one moment we’re deeply in sync, the next we’re distant like strangers. But that’s us. We’re chaos and calm, passion and hesitation, a bond that defies simple explanation.

And now, here we are again, side by side at the bar down the street from my dad’s house. My dad loves throwing these little celebrations for his team—a way to mark the end of grueling casework. This one was different, though. A two-week marathon of intensity, and now everyone’s unwinding. Normally, during one of these “off” phases, Spencer and I would fall into our usual rhythm: separate lives, no strings, letting the other disappear for a while. But this time, it’s different.

Two weeks ago, Spencer started to feel it—the shift between us, the deepening connection that neither of us could quite ignore anymore. And I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, too. I’ve been avoiding “serious” for so long, but with Spencer, it just feels...inevitable. Natural. That is, until he switches gears, pretending like we’re nothing more than casual, trying to convince himself we’re just a passing thing. But we both know the truth.

When it’s just the two of us, tangled in each other and the silence, it’s the only time he lets himself exhale. I feel it in the way his body relaxes, in the way he clings to the quiet, to me. I’m his sanctuary, his one moment of peace in a life full of chaos.

Spencer thinks I don’t notice the walls he’s built, but I do. I see through the guarded way he speaks, the way he tries to keep me at arm’s length. I know why he does it—his past, his losses. He’s afraid of getting too close, terrified of losing something he can’t bear to live without. And I understand. After all, his mother couldn’t always be there for him, and his father...well, we both know that story. Even with the team, with JJ and Morgan and the others, there’s still a part of him that longs for a different kind of connection. The kind he’s found in me.

But Spencer’s comfort in my presence—his reliance on me—has its limits. He’s gotten a little too used to the idea that I’ll always be here, waiting, and it’s started to test me. I know he feels safe with me, and I love that, but there’s a part of me that wonders how long I can keep waiting for him to realize what we have. How long before he stops pretending and lets me in completely.

Because no matter how much he tries to deny it, no one will ever know him like I do. And no one will ever love him the way I can.

I’m seated at a high-top table with the girls, laughing at whatever joke JJ just cracked, but my focus keeps slipping. I can feel Spencer’s eyes on me from across the room. He’s standing at the bar with Morgan, but it’s like his attention is tethered to me, no matter where I go. That smirk—half knowing, half teasing—has been plastered on his face since I walked in.

And why wouldn’t it be? I’m wearing a tiny skirt in his favorite shade (of course, that wasn’t an accident) and a sheer white top that offers just a peek of the delicate lace beneath. It’s the kind of outfit that drives Spencer crazy because it’s equal parts sweet and sinful. He says he doesn’t want me, but we both know better. I know better.

So, I am sitting at a little hightop table with the girls, and I can feel Spencer's eyes and smirk pointing my way from the bar he's standing at with Morgan. I'm wearing a tiny little skirt that's his favorite color (obviously on purpose), and a sheer white top that you can slightly see my lacy bralette through. You know when you just know a guy still wants you even after he says he doesn't? Yeah that's the feeling I'm getting, I know Spencer better than anyone, and that man wants me.

Normally, I’d be smug that we’re back to normal, him undressing me with his eyes while pretending we’re just friends. However, I haven't decided if I want to curse him out or take him back to my house. I think tonight, if Spencer wants me back, he's going to have to earn it.

“I think Spence is going to combust if you don’t go over there and give him some attention,” JJ teases, her voice low but full of amusement.

The table bursts into laughter, and I lean back, swirling my drink with a smirk. “Oh, he’s going to have to do a lot better than those puppy-dog eyes tonight. I’m not giving in so easily.”

“Really?” Emily chimes in, raising an eyebrow. “Because it looks like you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger already. You’re going to make him suffer, aren’t you?”

I flash a wicked smile. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just make him think I’m moving on. ‘I could be someone’s wife,’” I say dramatically, quoting the line from my head and earning more laughs from the girls. “He doesn’t get to string me along and expect me to be waiting for him whenever he’s done overthinking everything.”

Penelope, ever the romantic, sighs dramatically. “But the tension between you two? It’s chef’s kiss. And that man looks like he’d follow you anywhere if you so much as crooked your finger.”

I shrug, feigning indifference, but the truth is, I’m soaking it all in. Emily nudges me, her voice taking on a playful edge. “Well, if you’re serious about giving him a hard time, you better brace yourself, because lover boy is on his way over.”

Spencer walked up to the table and waved to the ladies, and then leaned in to whisper in your ear, "You look good tonight". You seductively smirked and grabbed his jaw line with your hand pulling his ear to your mouth. As he smirks, you whisper back, "I know". His expression changes to one of confusion, as you would usually compliment him back, but instead you drop your hand and get up. "Pen, do you want to go to the ladies room with me?", her head perks up as she pretends to not have been watching that entire interaction and replies, "Oh! Yes of course, no fabulous female should ever venture too far alone!".

I brush past Spencer, my shoulder grazing his arm, but I don’t spare him a glance. I can feel his eyes following me as I walk away, his confusion and frustration practically burning holes into my back.

Let him stew. If Spencer wants me, he’ll have to work for it.

When Penelope and I return to the table, I don’t look in Spencer’s direction, even though I know he’s still watching me. Instead, I slide into my chair with a bright smile, joining the girls in laughter like nothing’s out of the ordinary.

Across the room, my dad, Rossi, catches my eye. He’s holding court at the bar, recounting one of his famous stories to a group of agents, his glass of scotch in hand. With a quick glance at the table, I lean over to JJ. “Be right back,” I say, standing up and making my way to him.

Rossi spots me approaching and pauses mid-story, a smile spreading across his face. “Ah, there’s my favorite critic,” he says, wrapping an arm around me as I step into his side.

“Favorite? Am I your only critic, Dad?” I tease, stealing the olive from his drink and popping it into my mouth.

“Probably,” he replies with a chuckle. “But you keep me honest.”

The agents around him disperse, leaving us a moment of quiet. He glances back at the table where the team is gathered and then back at me, his expression softening. “You seem...distracted tonight. Something on your mind?”

I shrug, playing it off. “No, not really. Just the usual chaos.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives me a knowing look, the kind only a father can master. “Let me guess. It has something to do with our resident genius over there?”

I sigh, leaning against the bar. “Does it have to be that obvious?”

“To me? Yes.” He takes a sip of his drink, his tone turning serious. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but...whatever’s going on between you two, make sure it’s something you’re happy with. Don’t settle for less than you deserve.”

His words hit a little too close to home, and I nod, unable to meet his gaze. “I know, Dad. I’m not settling.”

He studies me for a moment, then smiles softly. “Good. You’re my daughter. You’ve got Rossi standards to uphold, after all.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Damn right.” He winks before turning back to his drink. “Go on, sweetheart. Don’t let me keep you from the party.”

With a quick kiss on his cheek, I leave him at the bar and head back to the table, but my focus isn’t on the girls anymore. It’s on Spencer, who’s still standing with Morgan, but his attention is locked on me.

I make my way back to the table, but my seat feels too far from the real reason I came back. I can feel Spencer’s eyes tracking my every move, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking his way. I sit down with the girls, pretending to be fully engrossed in Penelope’s animated story about her latest tech snafu.

But then I hear his voice, low and soft, behind me.

“Can we talk?”

The girls exchange subtle glances, but no one says a word. I don’t look at him right away. Instead, I take a deliberate sip of my drink and lean back in my chair, looking up at him with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

“Talk? Now that’s new for us,” I say, the words laced with a teasing edge.

Spencer doesn’t smile. His gaze is steady, and there’s something vulnerable behind his usual composure. “Please,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now.

JJ gives me a little nudge under the table, and Penelope wiggles her eyebrows dramatically. I sigh, pushing back my chair and standing up. “Fine,” I say, brushing past him as I head toward the quieter side of the bar.

He follows, and the sound of his footsteps feels louder than the music in the background. I stop near a corner booth and turn to face him, crossing my arms.

“What do you want, Spencer?”

He hesitates, shifting from one foot to the other like he’s trying to decide where to start. “I... I don’t know,” he admits finally. “I just—”

“You don’t know?” I interrupt, my tone sharper than I intended. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you know exactly what you’re doing. You push me away, pull me back, and then act like I’m the one who can’t figure it out.”

His jaw tightens, and I see the flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not like that,” he says, his voice a little firmer. “It’s—complicated.”

“Oh, complicated,” I say with a sarcastic laugh, stepping closer to him. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Spence. Because I’m tired of complicated.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, and then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “I’ve been... difficult. And I don’t mean to be. It’s just—”

“Spit it out,” I challenge, my voice softer now but still edged with impatience.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he steps closer, closing the space between us. “I’m scared,” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I tilt my head, meeting his gaze. “Scared of what?”

“Of this,” he says, gesturing between us. “Of how easy it is to be with you. Of how much I... need you.” His voice cracks slightly, and he looks away, as though the admission costs him more than he expected. “And I’m scared of losing it. Losing you.”

For a moment, I don’t say anything. I just look at him, the way his shoulders slump like he’s carrying more than his share of the weight. And as much as I want to stay mad, my resolve starts to crack.

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it,” I say finally, my voice softer now.

He looks at me again, and the vulnerability in his eyes is almost too much to bear. “I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry. I’m not good at this, at... us. But I want to be.”

There it is. The honesty I’ve been waiting for.

I take a step closer, reaching out to gently tug at his tie. “You’re not getting off that easy, Dr. Reid,” I say with a small smirk. “If you want me, you’re going to have to prove it.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but there’s still that seriousness in his eyes. “I will,” he says, his voice steady. “If you’ll let me.”

I let go of his tie, my fingers brushing against chest, "Show me"

Spencer doesn’t move, and neither do I. The space between us feels charged, electric, like the air before a storm. My fingers linger just above his tie, not touching him but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his chest.

“Show me,” I say again, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes drop to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting mine again. “You don’t make it easy, you know that?”

“Why should I?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve made me work for every ounce of your attention, Spence. Maybe it’s time you see how it feels.”

His jaw tightens, but his lips curve into the smallest of smirks. “Fair enough,” he murmurs. Then, his voice drops, low and velvety. “But don’t forget, I’m a quick learner.”

The heat between us builds, and I can feel my pulse quickening. His confidence—subtle, restrained—is maddening, and yet I can’t look away.

“You talk a big game,” I say, tilting my head slightly, “but I’m not convinced yet.”

“Not convinced?” He steps closer, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are now. His hand brushes against mine, deliberate but fleeting, and the touch sends a jolt up my spine. “Tell me, what would it take to convince you?”

The corner of my mouth curves upward, a dangerous smile playing on my lips. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

I take my hands off of him, a slow, deliberate motion, as I turn to walk away, the air thick with the tension between us. But just as I make my move, his grip tightens on my arm, pulling me back with a force that leaves me breathless. Before I can fully process what’s happening, his body presses against mine, his lips capturing mine in a kiss so intense it steals the air from my lungs. The heat between us ignites instantly, the world around us fading as his kiss deepens, claiming me in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

He's definitely got me back.

[bestruction]

The quiet ways he says I love you

Sasuke was never one to express his feelings openly. Words, especially ones like “I love you,” weren’t something he used casually, but his actions spoke volumes. Every quiet moment, every gesture was filled with meaning that only you truly understood. His love for you wasn’t in grand declarations but in the subtle ways he cared for you.

His past left many scars on him, physically and emotionally. So it's understandable that being vulnerable wasn't something he learned, especially when it came to expressing his feelings since he had to suppress them for so long. The post-ninja war, being with you, it's the first time in years that he doesn't have to be in survival mode and drowned in pain and hate.

That didn't mean he was incapable of showing you his love, just that you would have to be patient and learn how to see it in the details because he has his quiet ways of saying I love you.

Walking on the Safe Side

No matter where you two went, Sasuke instinctively positioned himself between you and any potential danger, whether it was a busy road, a crowded market, or a narrow mountain path. He knew you were able to take care of yourself, but still, a silent voice in his brain always made him step to your side and silently assume his post.

After finishing missions together, you two returned to the village. It had been a long day, and Konoha was already bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. You were walking side by side, a comfortable silence hanging between you two. Without a word, Sasuke reached out and took your hand, his fingers gently curling around yours. His grip was firm, and protective, as though he was silently reassuring you that he was there. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, but every time it happened, your heart fluttered in your chest. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge the gesture, but the warmth of his hand in yours was a quiet confession in itself by the way his thumb caressed your knuckles.

Your comfort

He is highly observant. It's in his nature thanks to his personality and work as a ninja, watching you was something he did without even realizing it. You two went out shopping and he saw you eyeing a particular treat? It'll magically appear in his kitchen in the next couple of days. Sasuke always made sure his home had your favorite snacks, drinks, and foods. It was his way of saying "You can stay for longer".

If you were out and it was cold, Sasuke would wordlessly drape his cloak or jacket over your shoulders or if you were sitting together, he’d pull you closer to share his warmth. Your comfort was always a priority because he wanted to be someone you could count on since he knows how difficult it is not to have this.

Physical Touch

Whether it was brushing his fingers over yours under the table at Ichiraku when you sat close, rubbing his foot gently against yours under the table, or resting his hand on your lower back as you walked, his touch was a silent way of grounding them both.

He has this habit of hugging you from behind and kissing the back of your neck right on the spine whenever he enters the room which makes you shiver and complain.

Also...Sex. The moment he learned what made you whimper and moan his name it was over to you. He became quickly addicted to making you cum just to watch you feel good but be careful, he can be mean as well for many reasons.  

The Forehead Poke

He had adopted the gesture from Itachi and used it sparingly, and only in moments when words failed him. A gentle poke to your forehead, when you were being stubborn, overthinking, or teasing him too much.

Hating Your Tears

Sasuke couldn’t stand seeing you cry. It's something even Naturo teases him about. If tears welled up in your eyes, he would do everything in his power to comfort you, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t great with words, but he’d awkwardly pat your head, wrap an arm around you, or simply sit with you until the storm passed.

Listening Without Interrupting

The Uchiha wasn’t the most talkative person, but he was an excellent listener. No matter how trivial your stories or worries might seem, he gave you his full attention. His quiet nods and occasional hums were his way of saying, I’m here. Keep talking. Plus, he loves the sound of your voice. It breaks the silence in his head.

Soft Smiles Meant Only for You

Sasuke’s smiles were rare, but when they came, they were like glimpses of sunlight through the clouds. For you, he would offer it more often. It'd happen mostly when you are telling or showing him something because he loves your excitement. It was a quiet affection that took your breath away.

Okay, but when does he say "I love you" then?

It was raining outside, the soft pattern of droplets on the roof filling the silence of the Uchiha district. The house, much like its owner, was quiet and reserved, but it had started to feel like home to you since you spent more time there than on your own.

You were sitting on the floor with your back against the couch, a book in your hands while Sasuke sat nearby, sharpening his sword. The faint sound of the whetstone sliding along the blade was rhythmic, almost soothing. It had become a ritual for the two of you, these silent evenings spent together, where words weren’t needed to feel connected.

But tonight, the atmosphere felt different. You could sense it in the way Sasuke’s movements were slower, less precise. He was distracted, and for a man like him, that was unusual.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked softly, closing your book and setting it aside.

He paused, his hand stilling on the hilt of his sword. For a moment, you thought he might not answer, but then he set the weapon down and leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Nothing,” he said at first, his voice as low and guarded as always. But you’d been with him long enough to know better.

“Sasuke.” You shifted closer, your knees brushing his. “I know when something’s bothering you. You don’t have to tell me, but... I’m here.”

His dark eyes lifted to meet yours, and you were struck, as always, by the depth of emotion he carried but rarely allowed to surface. There was pain there, but also something softer, something he didn’t know how to name or express.

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “It’s… hard,” he admitted after a long pause.

You tilted your head, waiting patiently. He needed time, and you were willing to give it to him.

“I’m not… good at this,” he continued his voice barely above a whisper. “At saying things.”

Your heart ached for him, but you didn’t interrupt. This was his moment, and you didn’t want to take it away from him.

“I’ve spent so many years… not feeling anything. Or trying not to. It was easier that way.” His hand clenched into a fist on his thigh. “But now… with you… it’s different. And I don’t know what to do with it.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Sasuke. Just be here. That’s enough.”

He shook his head slightly, a faint scoff escaping his lips. “It’s not enough. You deserve more than that.” His gaze finally met yours again, and this time, there was no barrier, no wall between you.

"I never thought It'd be possible for us to be here, together, enjoying some random day in silence," You say reaching for his hand "And I couldn't want something-" You squeeze his hand and correct yourself "I wouldn't want someone else"

Sasuke wants to believe your words and he knows you aren't lying about your feelings but he didn't know how to deal with honesty when faced with it so openly.

In his eyes, he didn't deserve this or you.  

"You should be with someone who can give you a normal life-"

"You don't get to decide that" You cut his phrase "I want to be with you. Unless you don't want me here...I'm not leaving"

Your hands cupped his face, keeping his eyes on you. He had a habit of running away from this type of conversation but this time you wouldn't let him.

He hesitated, his shoulders tense as if he were bracing for an attack. You lean your forehead against his "Do you want me here, you idiot ?" You ask looking deeply into his onix eyes.

You were glaring at him in the cutest way possible. At that moment, the words left his lips without a second thought. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with all the emotion he had been holding back for so long. It wasn’t just a confession, it was a release. Your breath hitched, and you blinked a few silly tears away but he noticed.

He looked away, his face slightly flushed, though he tried to hide it. “Don’t cry.”

You laughed softly, reaching out to cup his cheek and guiding his gaze back to you. “I’m happy, you idiot.”

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch, his hand coming up to rest over yours. He wondered how he managed to get someone like you in this lifetime after all the pain he caused.

“And I love you, too,” you said firmly, your voice full of conviction

For a moment, neither of you said anything else. The rain continued to fall outside, a soft, soothing backdrop to the moment. Sasuke’s hand tightened slightly around yours, his touch grounding you as much as yours grounded him.

[vaguely-concerned]

even at this point in the story and with the romance well and truly confirmed it's very possible that lucanis has never seen even a sliver of rye's naked skin below the throat. very likely no one on the team has yet except possibly emmrich if rye got hurt in battle and needed help patching it up. high-necked watcher garb with gloves and all stay ON at all times. thank god for rye's sake that lucanis' history of romantic interest indicates that surprise bitch he could be kind of into that fhsdkjfas

[seventh-district]

sighs and collapses and disintegrates into the wind

[nopeferatu]

been thinking about this post lately and i wish i had the gumption to write a fic where jack calls his mama to tell her the news that he's getting married after knocking lureen up. i don't know if he'd tell her he got her pregnant, but i like thinking about how she'd react to the news. i don't think jack had ever mentioned lureen to his mama before, so when he says he's getting married it probably comes as a real shock to her, and she probably figures that something fishy is afoot. her concerns are also probably confirmed when she gets word of little bobby's arrival less than nine months after the wedding...

i think she'd be okay with it, though. sure, she wouldn't be happy that he got her pregnant before they were married, but she's probably glad to see some uhh. direction in jack's life. i feel like she's also always had her suspicions about her son's sexuality, and so it comes as a reassurance to her that he's finally interested in the things he 'should' be interested in, like having a wife and raising up a family.

but then he visits home after seeing Ennis in the fall of 1967, and he spares very few words for his family in between all the ramblimg about Ennis, and it's at that moment she knows without a doubt that her baby boy is different, because it's the first time she's seen him so vibrant and alive since...well, since the summer he'd met Ennis. And it hurts her, but she realizes then that it's something she has to come to terms with, cause it seems like Ennis del Mar is going to be sticking around for awhile yet...

[luv-lock]

⸻ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ʜ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Jason stepped into Wayne Manor, he looked more like a stray cat than a boy. When Bruce introduced him to you—you couldn’t help but notice the defiance in his eyes, like he expected you to reject him immediately. But instead of recoiling from his rough edges, you smiled and offered your hand. It was the first moment Jason felt truly seen.

Jason didn’t know what to do with kindness, especially not from someone who looked at him like he was worth something.

“You’re going to love it here,” you said warmly, still holding out your hand.

He didn’t take it, but he didn’t forget the gesture either. That moment rooted itself in him, and he clung to it in the months to come.

You were the first person to make him laugh in years. It started small—quiet chuckles he tried to hide—but eventually, you had him cackling so hard that tears streamed down his face.

You were unlike anyone Jason had ever met. While Bruce was the stern, brooding authority figure, you were warmth and understanding. You treated him like an equal, never pitying him for his past or scolding him for his sharp tongue. You’d sit with him during his training, patch him up after patrols, and listen to him vent about the unfairness of Gotham’s streets. Jason began to feel that you were the one good thing in his life—a tether to keep him grounded.

Even in those early days, Jason couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy whenever you spent time with others. Whether it was Dick dropping by the Manor or Bruce pulling you away for a mission, Jason would watch, his jaw clenched and fists tight. You were his sanctuary, and the thought of sharing you with anyone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

Jason always found reasons to keep you close. He insisted on sparring with you during training, claiming no one else could push him like you did. He memorized the way you moved, the sound of your laughter when you managed to pin him, and the way your eyes narrowed in concentration. He lived for those moments.

Whenever you went on patrol, Jason was there, watching your back like a hawk. At first, you thought he was just being protective, but over time, his behavior grew more intense. If a thug so much as glanced at you the wrong way, Jason’s fists would leave them unrecognizable. “They deserved it,” he’d mutter, his knuckles dripping with blood, his gaze softening only when it landed on you.

Jason began planting seeds of doubt about everyone around you. He’d point out flaws in Dick’s plans, subtly criticize Bruce’s parenting, and even question Alfred’s judgment, all to make you feel like he was the only one you could truly rely on.

When Jason died, it shattered you. The boy who had been your closest friend, your partner in everything, was gone. Bruce tried to comfort you, but nothing could fill the void Jason left behind.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, his first thought was of you.

You. The only light he’d ever known. The one thing that kept him tethered to humanity. And you hadn’t saved him.

His obsession became worse, this bitter, consuming need to make you pay for abandoning him—and to keep you. Jason spiraled, his love for you warping into something darker, something unrecognizable.

Jason stalks you now, though he doesn’t see it that way. He calls it watching over you. You’re his, and Gotham is dangerous, especially with the Bat family’s enemies constantly circling.

He knows everything: where you go, who you talk to, what makes you smile. The line between love and control blurs with each passing day.

Sometimes, he visits you in secret. You’ll come home to find your favorite meal waiting on the counter or a new book sitting on your bedside table. Other times, you’ll catch glimpses of him in the shadows—just a flicker of red and black before he’s gone.

And then there are the times he lets himself be seen. He’ll stand in the middle of your apartment, waiting for you to come home. His voice is low, almost dangerous, as he says, “You don’t lock your windows, princess. Someone could get hurt.”

You try to confront him, try to reason with him, but Jason isn’t the boy you knew. He’s sharper now, more unhinged.

“You think you can just forget me?” he growls, pinning you against the wall. “You think you can move on, live your life without me? That’s not how this works princess.”

Jason’s obsession manifests in unpredictable ways. One moment, he’s protective and tender, swearing to keep you safe at all costs. The next, he’s violent and possessive, tearing apart anyone who gets too close to you.

He’s killed for you, though he’d never admit it. That coworker who flirted with you too much? Dead in an alleyway. The stranger who catcalled you on the street? Beaten within an inch of their life.

“I’m doing this for you,” he says, his voice trembling with something raw and desperate. “You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you. I’ll take care of it.”

You try to push him away, but it only makes him cling harder. Jason doesn’t see the line between love and obsession. To him, it’s all the same.

Jason’s ultimate goal is simple: to have you. To keep you with him, away from the dangers of Gotham—and away from anyone else.

“I’m not asking, princess,” he says one night, dragging you into his arms. “I’m taking you. No one else gets to have you. Not Bruce, not Dick, not anyone. You’re mine, and I’ll burn this city to the ground before I let you go.”

And maybe, deep down, a part of you doesn’t want him to. Because for all his madness, Jason is still Jason—the boy who made you laugh, who understood your pain, who loved you in a way no one else ever could.

But at what cost?

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[bunnygirllover45]

— THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.

♱ TRIGGER WARNINGS: Johann literally hunts down the reader, Small outburst at the end, and a lot of bullshit talk about hunting because I like it, DEAD DOVE. No violence was used.

Synopsis: You escape from Johann, he has to track you down. WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Johann wasn't exactly the thrill-seeking kind. He always preferred a slow-paced life, not filled with many excitements or tragedies. He wasn’t an adventurous spirit or a fiery soul in search of greater meaning. In his head, the only thing he needed was you.

And maybe that’s why this exact moment made his blood boil with newfound rapture, he could swear for a moment his skin bumped at the feeling of his heart throbbing so quickly against his ribcage. The thrill of the hunt, like his father used to say, made mere men become beasts, some because it was vital for their survival, others because of the rush of power it gave them.

But he couldn’t quite understand it until now. For him, hunts weren’t that exciting. The game was always too easy to track down, the footsteps effortlessly concealed. The gun didn’t feel heavy enough. His breath didn’t quicken at the mere chance of letting his prey slip away; he’ll always find a way to reach them again, after all. Animals have their habits; they’re easy to decipher once you know their true nature.

This is the type of hunt he’s been craving for so long. Johann had to press a hand against his mouth to prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Oh, how right his father was. This was truly trilling to the core, the kind of thrill that made a foreign heat rise towards his head and seep into his very brain tissue.

Humans aren’t like animals, their behavior is a little more erratic, animals can be divided between highly intelligent beings and straight-up dumb ones, but humans? All of them had their quirks, you couldn’t easily guess how prepared someone could be under certain circumstances. “Isn’t that so fucking interesting?” 

Lowering himself to the ground Johann reached to touch the freshly shaped footstep that his precious prey left behind. If they’re leaving such a pretty trail behind they’re expecting me to find them, what a tease.

“You know what kind of animals roam these types of terrains?” His voice was loud enough to carry its sound through the extremely quiet, when the hunt begins, the forest goes quiet, no need to scream. “Bears, moose, sometimes even wolves. Had to detangle a lot of ‘em from traps before, not without properly securing they won’t be able to bite, ‘course.” 

His heavy boots made the rotten wood and debris scattered around the forest soil yield under their weight, no need to change onto more quiet shoes, his bunny wouldn’t be able to hear him coming, surely their heartbeat was the only thing resounding inside their ears. Reaching into his pocket he took out his watch, starting a countdown. “I’ll give you two minutes to gain distance, cover your tracks, you can try hiding if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend staying still, it makes you easier to spot.” 

“Once the two minutes are done I’ll begin searching, I'll make a bird calling each 45 seconds, and once three minutes pass by, I’ll stop making bird callings and hunt in earnest, ‘kay? Just want to make the game easier for you, it isn’t fun if I’m the one with the upper hand all the time even if this is my subject.” 

With a deep sigh, he crouched down again, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket until he found a cigarette, the last one actually. Grabbing his lighter he lit up the tip, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke escape from his lips. 

His free hand reached to grab the gun he always had with him, it was an old friend of sorts, stuck by his side in all the worst situations, a lot of people meeting their death at the end of this same barrel. Maybe it should have your name, after all, people do name their guns sometimes.

The forest grew more eerily quiet, the sun setting down in the distance while Johann quietly awaited the starting gunshot of the race, he didn’t really need to put the time on his watch, he could already count the time down to the millisecond inside his head. “Forty-eight, forty-nine…” His gloved fingers tapped against his lips, hands tightly clad in leather gloves, perfect for the harsh Austrian winter. 

A part of him wished you didn’t even make the effort to run away, maybe finding you curled up against a rock or a tree just waiting for him to find you was more exciting than actually pursuing you, after all, that meant you truly gave up on the idea of leaving him behind—still, another part of his brain screamed for you to run, so he could find you and make sure you won’t try pulling up bullshit like this again.

Slowly he stood up, the watch making a low beeping sound before he began to walk, settling the gun back onto the strap around his thigh. Holding the cigarette in between his lips he began to prepare the clothes you were going to use once he caught you, after all, little you decided to escape both barefoot and barely dressed, the worst thing in this forest beside him was the cold. Holding the spare jacket he always brought with him inside his bag and a blanket he continued to walk nonchalantly, not even sparing a single stare in any direction that wasn’t just dead front and center. 

Johann's stare drifted onto the floor, a little disappointed that you didn’t take his recommendation into account, there, clear as day, were your pretty little marks for him to follow like a bloodhound. Johann even took the time to carefully make sure he didn’t accidentally step into any of them, not wanting to overshadow the loving tracks you left behind for him with his heavy boots.

He knew very well he was taking all of this too lightly, this was a high gamble where he could lose everything or gain all, but still the elated sense of happiness and bubbling excitement made him more self-confident, too sure you wouldn’t get away too far, and even if you did, he’d stay in the damn forest all the time necessary for you to realize you need to go back onto his loving arms.

Stopping dead in his tracks he turned around as he heard a small sound coming from behind a fallen stump, dead bark peeling off the tree’s corpse. There you are.

And there you were indeed, curled up in a ball, back pressing against the rough bark as you held your arms around your torso, bracing yourself from the harsh winter cold, from the shiver that ran down your shoulders towards your legs or the sight you so pathetically defenseless made him smile, a blush creeping up onto his features.

“You didn’t even run far enough to let me do any bird calls, are you that tired, baby?” He kneeled down in front of you, but as soon as you jolted up in surprise Johann’s hand shot to grab your wrist with unnerving quickness. His dark eyes bore into you, a small smile gracing his lips, but there was no emotion behind that expression of his. “That’s okay, next time I’ll give you some proper equipment, some shoes wouldn’t hurt.” 

His thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, while his other hand threw away the now almost half-smoked cigarette that Johann held in between his lips. Eventually he reached to grab your head in between them, rubbing your cheeks with such tenderness that it could be even soothing in a different situation. “There, you did good. Not good enough to grant you a reward, but you did have me a little scared back there.” His smile widened as he lied through his teeth. You frowned, tired, freezing cold and also breathless, but still with enough energy to try and pry his hand away from your wrist, it was useless, he was latched onto you like a handcuff. “Fuck yo—” Before you could even finish he reached to clasp his free hand onto your mouth, the sudden movement making you stumble backward, head pressing against the tree. “Fuckin’ language.” He whispered between his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes. “You should be grateful I didn’t put a damn bullet in between those pretty eyes of yours. Runnin’ away from me like that? After all I did for you? I let you away from my sight for just a second and you go jolting away like a fucking rabbit.” 

Taking a deep breath he lowered his head, slowly pushing his hand away from your mouth, his face leaning closer to you, the only warm feeling gracing your warm body being his hot breath against your face. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He pushed your lower lip with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss onto your flesh as some sick and twisted kind of apology.

“I won’t be as lenient next time, ‘kay? You know I care about you a lot, meine Liebe, don’t want you getting hurt.” He forced a smile, leaning his forehead against yours, but again his voice was masked by the thumping sound of your heart against your ears. “Let’s get you back to the car, I’ll get you all warmed up and cozy.” 

You just let him grab you, his hands effortlessly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style as both of you made your way back toward the car, you stole a few glances at Johann’s face, finding a small smile and that darn blush in his cheeks that showed how much he enjoyed himself, maybe a twisted part of him was truly pleased by all of this, even if it just started as a rebellious act of trying to escape from your part.

“Hear that? It’s a White-tailed eagle. Birds of prey, always hunted them with my father as a child.” Suddenly the forest wasn’t so quiet anymore, the hunt has ended.

[kateschi]

same book, different chapters

synopsis: an ordinary evening takes a turn when katsuki expresses what you've always known but never expected to hear.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

being with katsuki is a lesson in unspoken understanding. you knew who he is long before you started dating him—loud, brash, and not the type to share his feelings openly.

but it didn’t take long to realize there’s so much more to him than that. his love is quiet, reserved, and shown in the details:

how he pulls you out of the way of a passing car, or how he remembers the smallest things, like your favorite kind of tea or that you prefer your coffee without sugar.

and that is enough for you. mostly.

you didn’t expect him to be the kind of boyfriend who says "I love you" with ease. katsuki isn’t like that. it isn’t something you hold against him either.

but every now and then, a small part of you wonders what it would be like to hear him say it—to hear those three words slip past his lips in the same way they had from yours.

you say it first, a quiet “I love you” in the middle of a peaceful night when the world outside feels still.

his response comes in the shape of hugging you tighter, securing you in his arms. however, he doesn’t say it back, and you don’t expect him to. you don’t need him to.

still, there are times when you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if one day he’ll actually verbalize it.

it isn’t that you doubt his feelings. katsuki isn’t one to waste time on things or people he doesn’t care about.

you know how much he cares by the way he silently takes care of you, always putting you first in his own way, even when his words are rough around the edges.

it’s just that sometimes, words have a way of making things feel more real.

tonight is one of those easy evenings you cherish—one where you don’t have to think too much about anything. the two of you are in your kitchen, making dinner together, though “together” is generous.

you’re doing most of the work while katsuki stands next to you, arms crossed, casting a critical eye over everything you do.

“you’re putting too much salt,” he says, the frown on his face making you smile.

“pretty sure this is the exact amount the recipe says to use,” you reply, amused at how serious he always gets when it comes to food.

“that recipe’s wrong. I could’ve made this better with my eyes closed.”

“then why don’t you?” you tease, turning your head to glance at him. his gaze is sharp as usual, but the small curve in the corner of his lips betrays him.

“maybe I’ll cook next time,” he grumbles, looking away like the very idea of giving in bothers him.

you laugh softly, enjoying the banter. this is something you love about him—how even in these simple moments, his presence fills the space with a sense of ease.

there’s no pressure to be anything other than yourselves, even when his blunt honesty clashes with your more relaxed approach.

as you stir the pot, you can’t help but let your thoughts wander back to the three words. you know katsuki isn’t the type to say things until he’s ready, and you respect that.

but part of you is curious—would it ever come naturally to him, or would it always be something unspoken between the two of you?

still, as you stand there, the warmth of his steady presence beside you, you realize that maybe you’re okay with it remaining unspoken. katsuki shows his love in ways that don’t need words to validate them.

and then, without warning, you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. you freeze for a moment, caught off-guard.

“katsuki?” you ask, your voice soft, as you lean into him instinctively.

he doesn’t answer right away, just holds you there. his touch isn’t hesitant, but it is different from the usual casual touches you’ve grown used to.

“you’re annoying sometimes,” he mutters, voice low in your ear.

you chuckle, relaxing further into his hold. “I know.”

there’s silence for a beat, and then: “but I love you anyway, idiot.”

you blink, unsure if you’ve heard him correctly. you turn your head slightly, trying to see his face, but he buries it against your neck, hiding his expression. “did you just—?”

“don’t make a big deal out of it,” he mumbles, voice suddenly gruff, though you can hear the embarrassment beneath the words.

a smile breaks across your face, warmth spreading through your chest. you didn’t expect it, but that makes it all the more special. he isn’t saying it because the moment demands it.

he isn’t saying it because you’re waiting. he says it because he wants to, because he feels it.

“I’m not,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your happiness bubbles up in your voice. “but…I love you too.”

you feel his grip tighten around you and a kiss pressed to your shoulder.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[covenofagatha]

A Helping Hand

You're helping your Professor gather ingredients for a potion she's brewing when you accidentally knock over a jar of sex pollen and need help.

Word count: ~3100

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, fingering, Top Agatha, magic cock, blowjob, magic cum, pure filth, teacher x student, age gap (everyone's legal)

Your brow furrows as you stare at the open spell book in front of you. You have a Potions test tomorrow for Professor Harkness, and evident by your lack of understanding of any of the words on the page, you are not going to do well. 

“What’s wrong?” your roommate, Wanda, asks you. The two of you are the top witches at the Academy of Dark Arts, and yet, neither of you has a strong suit in potions. 

And of course, the Potions teacher, Agatha Harkness, is the hardest teacher you have. 

“This is impossible. How am I supposed to remember that, for the Wolfsbane Potion, you have to stir three times counterclockwise, say this incantation, and then stir four times clockwise, all while making sure I’m continuously pouring in Dragon’s Blood?” Your head hurts just from reading it from the book. 

Wanda snorts. “Agatha doesn’t expect it to be perfect.”

You give her a look. You both know that’s a lie. Agatha is the teacher that makes you redo written homework assignments if you leave too much space between the words. 

The Academy of Dark Arts was a home for witches like you and Wanda: witches that did not have a coven, or even a family. The Academy was supposed to teach girls to harness and understand their powers. 

You have been here the longest, ever since you were twelve. You are almost twenty now. You had always put off taking Potions until you could no longer avoid it, mainly just because of how hard everyone else said it was. You had briefly interacted with Professor Harkness before the class, passing her in the corridors or making eye contact at meals. 

And maybe, just maybe, you had developed a bit of a crush on her once you were in her class. 

Who could blame you, though? She was the definition of perfection, with the way power just exuded from her, and the way her long, dark hair tumbled down to her lower back, and her piercing blue eyes that you suspected could see right into your soul. 

But your little infatuation was not what you needed right now – no, right now, you need to study. 

“I just don’t know anything,” you groan, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t even read my notes.” Agatha often went so fast in class that you had no other option than to just scribble down everything you thought she said as quickly as you could. 

And now you just had pages of illegible chicken scratch. 

“She’s probably still in the green house, why not just go ask her for help,” Wanda says noncommittally, too engrossed in sketching a picture. How she is so calm with this test hanging over the both of you, you have no idea. 

But you nod. That’s a good idea. You can go see Agatha, ask her to clarify a few things, and then stay up all night cramming ingredients and directions into your brain. 

“I’ll be right back,” you promise, and then scoop up your book and your notes. 

You pass by some younger witches in the hallway and you give them a tight-lipped smile. Wanda was really your only friend at the Academy, the other girls too boy-crazy or too self-absorbed for you to really connect with them. 

Other than those girls, though, the Academy is quiet. No sign of any of your other teachers, and you’re sure they’re either in their private quarters or still grading papers in their classrooms. 

You have to leave the main house of the Academy to get to the greenhouse, where Potions takes place. The cold November air stings your cheeks and makes your eyes water, but luckily, it’s a short walk. 

“Hello, Professor Harkness?” you say timidly, knocking on the door as you push it open. She’s sitting at a stool, cutting plants with a sharp knife. Her hair flowing down her back and she's wearing a tight white button-down shirt on that’s tucked into high-waisted purple pants, and a long, navy coat.

She glances up and smiles when she sees it’s you. “Y/n, what can I do for you?” 

“Oh, I just wanted to come see if you could help me clear some things up for the test tomorrow,” you say, a little flustered by how good she looks. 

“Sure thing, hon. First, I need your help. Hand me those powders from over there?” She points the knife over to the counter by the sink and you oblige, grabbing the four vials and putting them down next to her. She picks each one up and examines the label closely. “Ah, shoot. Sorry, dear, could you find the jar with the powdered root of asphodel? It should be in the pantry somewhere. I thought I took it out, but I guess I forgot.” 

“Yeah, of course.” You repeat the powder name in your head a few times so you don’t forget it and then go search for it. 

You finally spot it on the fourth shelf, sitting in the middle of some other jars, and you reach up on your tip-toes to grab it. As you’re pulling down the correct jar, you accidentally knock it into another and it falls to the floor next to you. 

“Shit!” you mutter, immediately crouching down to assess the damage. The jar of some unknown powder has broken and its contents are spilled everywhere. Without even thinking, you start to sweep the powder into your hands so you can try to put it back in the bottom half of the jar that’s still intact. 

You didn’t even notice Agatha coming over after she heard the noise. “Everything okay – don’t touch any of that!” she exclaims, seeing the bottle that broke on the floor.

You drop the mound of powder in your hands and whirl around, eyes wide open. 

“What is it?” you ask, afraid of the answer, but she doesn’t give you one, instead opting to pull you by the sleeve over to the sink. 

“Wash your hands now,” she demands and stands there watching you scrub your skin until it’s red. “How do you feel?” 

“I feel fine,” you say, but as you say that, you notice something. There’s an unmistakable heat growing in your stomach. And it only gets worse when Agatha places a hand against your forehead. You lean into the touch and have to forcibly bite your tongue so you don’t moan. 

She looks you up and down and you can feel yourself getting hotter. You’re sure your cheeks are flushed. 

You’ve never felt this way before. 

“Um, just out of curiosity, what was that powder?” you ask, wetness pooling between your thighs. The ache between your legs is becoming hard to ignore. 

Agatha meets your eyes. “It’s called sex pollen.” Your heart skips a beat. “I honestly forgot it was back there. I came across some a few decades ago and wanted to study it.”

You swallow hard. “So if someone gets some of it in their system, do they just need to touch…” You feel yourself blushing, not quite believing you’re asking Agatha Harkness if masturbation is the key to get this heat inside you to die down. 

She smirks. “You can’t get it out of your system by yourself.”

Well, fuck. “There’s no other way?” 

“Where would the fun in that be?” She winks playfully, and you wonder if she’s ever used it, or used it on someone else. “But you said you feel fine so you shouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Right,” you reply shakily. Her fingers brush a strand of hair out of her face and you literally clench at the sight of them. You feel so empty, so needy, so desperate for her. 

“You said you had some questions for the test tomorrow?” She takes the root of asphodel that you had forgotten you were holding and beckons you back over to where she’s working. She pats the stool next to you and you sit, the pressure on your clit making you jump. 

You just have to make it through this, go back to your room, and then drag Wanda out with you to a club or something so you can get fucked. 

The only problem is, you’re not sure you can wait that long. Your hips have started squirming on the stool beneath you and you can’t control it. 

“Um, so,” you start, opening up the textbook to the Wolfsbane Potion you were studying earlier. “The directions for this potion are–”

You’re cut off by her putting her hand on top of yours and you literally whimper at the contact. You stiffen and see her turn her full body towards you, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead, your darkened eyes, the way your hips are moving on the seat. 

“Oh, you poor baby,” she taunts. 

You give up the pretense of being unaffected by the pollen. “Professor, I’m so…I need…please…I think the pollen...” 

She laughs. “Yes, dear, I think the pollen got into your system. Do you have anyone who can take care of you?” 

You blush at the implication of Agatha asking if you have a fuck buddy and then shake your head pathetically. “I was gonna go out with Wanda and try to find someone,” you mumble. “I’ve never…” You trail off, not wanting your incredibly hot professor to hear you say out loud that you’re a virgin. 

“Honey, you can’t have your first time with a random person from a bar,” she tuts. “Plus, sex pollen amplifies feelings you already have. Getting fucked by a random person won’t help as much as by a person you already want.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” you whine. “Can you…will you…please?” You can tell the pollen is affecting your ability to think straight because there is no way you just asked your centuries-old professor to fuck you. You’re about ready to run out of the room and die of embarrassment when she grins. 

“You want me to help you?” 

Your breath catches. “Professor, please, please, I need it. I need you. I just feel so…hot.” 

“I’ll say,” she says appreciatively, this time letting her eyes wander over you slowly. “Are you sure? I don’t want you regretting this when the pollen wears off.” 

You shake your head. “I won’t. I’m sure. I want you so bad. I have for a while. And you said it has to be someone you already want.” 

Her eyes darken. “Get on the table.” 

You’ve never moved so fast in your life. She takes your shirt off and throws it somewhere else in the room, and then her hands are cupping your breasts and her mouth is on yours. 

You moan hungrily into her hot mouth, feeling her tongue against yours. Your hands tangle in her hair, pulling it gently, and she groans into your mouth. Agatha quickly undoes the clasp of your bra and finds your nipples, tugging at them. She kisses down your neck and your fingers leave her hair to hike up your skirt. 

“So eager for me,” she whispers against your clavicle. You gasp when she bites down. 

“Please, professor, touch me.” 

“I am touching you,” she teases, fingertips lightly skimming down your stomach. You tense at the touch as she gets lower. 

Your moan is downright pornographic when she first slides her hand into your underwear, sliding through your folds. She makes a sound as well. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked,” she says. 

“All for you,” you say weakly, hips grinding up and down against her fingers. She’s yet to touch your clit, but you fear the second she does, you’ll cum. 

“My dirty girl.” Agatha finally pushes her middle finger into you and you clench down immediately, needing more. She easily finds the spot that makes you squeal, and her thumb brushes against your clit. “Do you think you can take another finger?” 

“Oh my god, yes,” you enthusiastically agree and she slides in her ring finger as well. It’s a bit of a stretch but you’ve never felt better. 

“Your cunt feels so good around me,” Agatha says, grabbing your chin with her other hand so you meet her eyes. “So wet, so warm. I want to stay here forever. You can’t get enough of my fingers, can you?” 

“No, Professor, I love your fingers,” you babble, right on the edge. She knows it too. 

“Be a good girl and come for mommy,” she whispers right into your ear, her hot breath warm, and the name, coupled with the way she twists her fingers and roughly strokes your clit, sends you climaxing. 

“Fuckkkk,” you moan, your nails digging into her shoulders. She fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm and then slowly pulls her fingers, which are drenched, out of you. You can’t help but feel empty and the heat inside you isn’t completely gone. 

Before you can say anything, she slides her wet fingers into your mouth and you lazily lap at your juices. She bites her lip at the feeling. 

“How are you feeling now, baby girl?” 

Her fingers leave your mouth with a pop. “Better but I still think I need more.” 

Her eyebrow raises playfully. “My fingers weren’t enough to quell your thirst?” 

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“I think I know something that might help.” She waves her hand and a poof of purple smoke appears. You’re not quite sure what she did, but she gives you a wicked grin and unzips her pants, pulling out a purple strap-on. 

Your mouth falls open. 

She grabs a hold of the base and starts to stroke herself, groaning. 

“Wait, can you-” 

She looks up at you. “Feel it?” She nods. “I wanna feel you clench around my cock. Wanna fill you up.” 

You let out a small gasp. “Mommy, please, I need your cock.” 

She steps back over to you and runs a hand up your slit, collecting your wetness, which she then rubs on her cock. “You’re plenty wet already, but why don’t you get on your knees and show me how much of a good girl you can be.” 

She doesn’t have to tell you twice. You practically fall to the ground in front of her, ignoring the sharp pain in your knees. You look up at her, awaiting instruction, and she bites her lip softly at the sight of you. 

She puts a hand on your head and pushes you closer. “Put a hand around the base and then run your tongue up and down the length.” 

You do as you’re told and you delight in the loud moan that tears from her mouth. Her hand just rests on your head as you then experimentally suck the tip of her cock between your lips. 

“Good girl,” she says gruffly, and her praise drives you to test the waters and go down further. You bob your head on her dick, never breaking eye contact. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so hot.” 

Meanwhile, the need inside you is growing so much you can barely fight the urge to slip a hand up your skirt. But you don’t. You figure Agatha won’t like that, and also, you want to focus all your attention on making her feel good. 

“Such a dirty slut on her knees for mommy. So desperate for this cock,” she says and you groan around the strap-on, making her hands tighten in your hair. She pulls you back and a string of saliva connects your lips to her. “Get up.” 

Once you’re standing in front of her, she flips you around and bends your front over the table so she’s standing behind you. She pushes your skirt up and traces your pussy with her cock, sliding it up your slit to your clit and then back. You’re grinding against her, trying to get some stimulation. 

“Are you ready?” Agatha asks. 

“Yes,” you answer, voice hoarse with anticipation. You feel her line the tip up with your hole and then slowly start to push in. 

Both of you moan. She is so big but the stretch is exactly what you need. Once she bottoms out, she holds still for a second, letting you adjust to her size. 

“You take my cock so well.” And then she’s pulling out and thrusting back in, picking up speed and intensity. You lift a leg up so she’s able to get deeper and you can feel her hips stutter. “You pretend to be so innocent but look at how desperate you are for me. Just a little slut, needing me to fill her up.” 

“Yes, just a slut for you, mommy.” 

Her nails dig into your hip and her other hand comes down to rub your clit. You clench around her. 

“You’re so tight, so hot, you feel so good squeezing my dick,” Agatha murmurs, saying the filthiest things right into your ear. You’re so close and it’s only been a few minutes of her pounding into you. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Her hand leaves your clit and you gasp. 

“Not yet, baby, wait for mommy. Do you want me to fill you up?” 

“Want you to fill me up, mommy, wanna feel you dripping out of me,” you babble. 

“Oh shit, baby, gonna cum in you. Cum for me,” she says, and you do. This orgasm is even more intense than the one before and you feel her give you one last hard thrust before warmth spreads through your cunt. She stills for just a second and then gingerly pulls out. You can feel her cum dripping out of your hole and down your leg and it almost makes you cum again. 

Agatha turns you around and spreads your legs so she can watch it better. She takes two fingers and lazily smears her cum mixed with yours all over your pussy lips. She raises her fingers to your lips and you eagerly taste both of your juices, moaning around them. 

“Do you feel better now?” she asks, a playful glint in her eyes. 

You sigh dramatically. “For now. But who’s to say I won’t get into more sex pollen some other time?”

She chuckles and matches your smirk with one of her own. “Well, I guess I better keep a careful eye on you then.” 

[luveline]

jade!! I come on hands and knees begging for more rockstar!remus with shy!reader. I LOVE THEM. how are they doing?!

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You fit the part, tonight. Marlene has dressed you in her clothes —you wear a dark jacket covered in gothic, skeletal linework, a skirt barely long enough to show beneath it, with black tights and tall shoes. 

Remus isn’t sure what it is about the slightly too big jacket that he likes so much. Maybe it’s your thighs on show, shadowed flanks of softness he knows too well. It could be your eyes, their ringing of dark kohl, your lengthened lashes. Perhaps it’s none of those things. After all, Remus has always loved to watch you laugh. 

James thrusts his pint against yours, a splash of his cherry cider lapping the end of the cup to seep into your lemonade. Remus is unsure if there’s anything in it of substance, but you sip it through a breathless laugh and confirm that it hasn’t changed. No harm, no foul. 

Remus taps his cigarette carton against the table out of habit. Sirius reaches for him before Remus has even split the seal, fingers pinching, pale hand expectant. Remus knocks into them with the carton and turns so Sirius can’t see him opening the box. “Thought you were off them?” Remus asks, quiet with the slower atmosphere at the table, so far from the bar. 

“Can anyone ever really be off them?” Sirius asks. 

He pressed himself into Remus’ arm, all the overfamiliarity of a best, best friend. Searching for comfort and selfish vices. 

Remus hugs him suddenly, a rough arm around the back of his head in a hold that tugs curls as he uses the other hand to slide a cigarette between his lips. “Here, you baby.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius says around it. 

Remus takes his own cigarette and shoves the box back in his pocket. Sirius lights his own, lights Remus’, and together they tip their heads back, getting a glance at the oranging ceiling and the upstairs drinking pit. 

“She’s sweet, letting Marl dress her up a bit.” 

“Makes Marlene feel better,” Remus says. 

“Yeah, it does. Reckon she and Mary will mend it?” 

Remus shrugs. The love triangle between Mary, Marlene and Dorcas is confusing. He loves them, though, so it’s a confusing he understands. “It won't be long before we find out.” 

You, James and Emmeline begin to make your way back to the table. You have two drinks each, too many for the amount of people, though none of you seem to have noticed. You’re just giggling and meandering around low chairs until you get there. 

James slams his drinks down and grabs you from the side. “My sweethearts, I return the sweethearts.” 

“Can I have one?” Emmeline asks. 

Remus passes her the cigarette carton dutifully. 

“Can I–”

“No,” Remus says. 

You squint at him. “Don’t be weird,” you say, embarrassed, taking the box when Emme passes it, sliding it between painted lips, “I’m not a baby.” 

You talk around the cigarette with the ease of practice. If there’s one thing life on the road gives, it’s addiction. Remus is thankful that you and all of your friends chose nicotine. 

“You’re trying to quit.” Remus feels the funny burn of smoke as he inhales again. “And I’m trying to help you.” 

“Same help you gave Sirius, clearly,” James says. 

“C’mere,” Remus says, opening his arm for you. “Come on.” 

You grin and weave around Emme to his side of the table, propping a drink in front of him. “For you.” 

“Thank you.” He blows smoke as far from your face as he can manage and tucks you under his arm. 

The makeup on your lips is rubbing off, a darker outlining with light insides, but it’s enough to express Marl’s taste. Remus will be happy to kiss the rest of it away later on, when James and Sirius are drunk enough to become openly obsessed with one another and leave him alone, carving out some rare alone time. 

You smoke as Remus taught you to. He remembers the day, your shaking, his chest pain, not wanting to corrupt you and yet enlivened by the way you looked trying to foster the flame at the end of it. Nicotine helps calm your nerves, which you’re often in need of, but Remus never meant for it to become a crux. He snuffs his cigarette in the ashtray and catches yours to do the same, barely two puffs in. 

“Wha–”

“Let me have a look at you,” he says. 

Your friends scoff and jeer but quickly move on. Remus catches your chin between his fingers. 

He’s not like Sirius. He couldn’t do this to any girl, can’t seduce like that, but it’s not any girl he touches. Your eyes go to swimming pleasure as he pulls you forward, edging downward to kiss you. You both taste of smoke, of drink, and it would put him off if there wasn’t something sweeter to be chased in your mouth. He kisses you like there’s no one at the table but you.

He’s had more to drink than he thinks. 

“You taste like jaeger,” you say, pulling away with cheeks he’d find hot if he were to cradle and a shy smile. 

“Do I?” 

“That’s a thousand times worse for you than those, you know.” You point at his quickly dwindling pack of cigarettes. 

Remus curls an arm behind your neck and kisses you again. James cheers, says, “Fuck, I wish Moony kissed me like that,” and Remus tries his best to ignore him, but you’re laughing. The kiss breaks.

“Just ask him nicely like I do,” you advise. 

“You know that doesn’t work!” James says, tipping his head back with a hand to the forehead. “I always ask him nicely, he just doesn’t want to kiss me. Must be something about you…” He gives a huge smile as he lifts his cider.  “Something I don’t have?” 

“Impossible,” Sirius says blithely, “you’ve everything, gorgeous boy.” 

“Something about you,” Remus echoes. 

You shake your head minutely, a silent warning. Don’t flirt with me, it says. Don’t torture me. 

“How do you want the answer?” Remus asks, sliding his arm back behind your shoulders, pulling your burning face against his neck. “I can give it to you in an essay or a list, but it’s an extensive explanation.” 

“Write it down for me.”