#and all is right with their little corner of the world

[inbabylontheywept]

So. Found this link on Reddit, but apparently the Adrian Dittman, tripcoded and all, was defending Musk on 4chan, and he dropped a screenshot of a Musk tweet that was like. 100% logged in as Elon Musk. It had the “View Post Engagements” and an admin control panel in the corner. World’s richest man caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Permalink to the thread if you want to see it yourself - but maybe don’t because it’s so full of racist shit. Like we all knew there was already a 99% chance that Dittman was just a Musk alt, but knowing that Musk is genuinely so ego bruised that he is personally on 4chan right now trying to do damage control actually

It actually freaks me out a little. A middle schooler could wrap this man around their finger by calling him a stinkyhead. Man has half a trillion dollars and he’s still trying to seem cool on 4chan. What the fuck.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

[youtry2replaceurself]

Uhh two Minecraft things, I might have said the first one on this hellsite before but oh well

I found out about hell because I was playing mc with my older cousin and I was just spawning wolves everywhere and he was like "hey dude do you wanna make. dog hell" and I asked "what's a help" so he said it was a big fire place that bad people go. I did not question it and I followed him as he made a little space underground and put fire everywhere and put more wolves

Oh yea and the first time I was playing mc I was with another cousin in a car I think. And we were sharing an iPad. And all I remember I was really doing was putting water everywhere in one of those infinitely flat worlds things? I was really confused by the arm in the corner , and at night a zombie showed up and I think we named it Zach or whatever. and we repeatedly put water on it and did the creative mode fly thing to skedaddle. Same zombie kept showing up and we continued to attack it with water

Oh yeah and my elementary school used to have a Minecraft club. Straight up told some kid that their world sucked lmao I was such a bitch when I was younger????? and there were two kids who were really good at redstone so I was good friends with them for a few months. A few months because this was right before covid happened lol

yap session over, realized how much I wrote sorrysrorry

do you have any video game memories that stick with you. for me it was playing Terraria for the first time with my friend and going down to the cave layer and hearing the music and going "oh dude you gotta come down here it's kinda funky"

[joemama-2]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a symphony of silence

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ synopsis: if you want to know what it’s like to love someone who was never yours, ask gojo satoru.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags/warnings: angst, unrequited love, crying, happy ending, talks of soulmates

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc: 5.5k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: thank you all so much for 1k followers!! I appreciate every bit of love and support I have received and I hope with this new year, I can make you all happy with my work. :) this is just a little thing, but I really hope u guys enjoy it. as always, have a wonderful day and eat well!

The days feel brighter with you. 

No amount of paperwork, miscalculations, messed up orders can change the light you bring into his life. The moment he met you, he knew it was strange. Feeling himself being reeled in like a fish too quickly scared him. But if you asked him that question, he’d never admit his fear. 

His smile had a mind of its own, curling up in a subconscious way whenever you so much as spared him a fleeting glance. And when you smiled at him? He was on cloud nine. His heart beat faster and stomach fluttered like a little schoolboy when he was in your vicinity. 

But he was always careful. So careful, too careful. Like the way someone treads lightly around a fragile thing they can never keep. You were so full of life, so innocent in your joy, and he was nothing but a darkened silhouette in the background.

He knew what you deserved, and it wasn’t him. Not a man like him, burdened with secrets and a past he couldn’t shake off. And you? You were meant for someone who could offer the world, not someone like him who could barely provide anything but a fleeting moment of warmth.

He had a way of slipping into your presence unnoticed, his longing buried deep within the corners of his chest. When he laughed at your jokes, it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing through him, of knowing just how badly he wanted to be more than a passing acquaintance. He wanted to reach out, touch your hand, but the words always died in his throat, swallowed by the fear of your rejection.

He knew the truth, though. You would never see him as he saw you. You would never feel that electric pull, that magnetic force that lured him to you in ways he couldn’t explain, ways he would never allow himself to. Because it would hurt too much, to love someone who didn’t even know.

The days grew brighter with you, but in the back of his mind, he could feel the darkness creeping in. He was just a shadow in your life, and nothing more. And it was enough for him, even if it meant living in a love that would never be returned. As long as you were happy. As long as you smiled. That was all he could ever ask for. He sometimes joked with himself about just saying ‘fuck it’ and getting down on one knee for you. He would. 

Too bad his best friend had the balls to do it before he did. 

He saw it coming, of course. You and Suguru have been together for five years. He was there through every phase of your growing relationship, a background character in a main couple’s story. It’s why he felt guilty about his feelings—his thoughts. But he always justified it with a he knew you first. 

He watched the way Suguru could make you laugh with the simplest words, how your eyes lit up when he held you close. It was the kind of love that made the world feel like it had all the right answers—answers he never had. He shouldn’t be pining after you. You were Suguru’s, and the world had made that clear. But there was always a part of him that entertained the what ifs. He was there before Suguru, before the smiles and the promises, before the certainty of love that seemed to hold you two together like a force stronger than gravity.

And yet, here he was, helpless. Watching you slip further away, like sand through his fingers. You were so easy to love, and so impossible to have.

He’d gotten good at keeping his distance. At laughing along with Suguru’s jokes, at pretending to be happy for the both of you. But inside, it was a constant ache, a pain that never went away, no matter how many times he buried it under a mask of smiles and camaraderie. He wondered if you ever noticed the way he looked at you. The quiet longing that always seemed to flicker in his eyes when you spoke. But you never did. How could you? You were too wrapped up in the love you had with Suguru to ever see the way his heart twisted with every word you spoke, every touch you gave.

But maybe, just maybe, he could keep pretending. Keep pretending that your happiness meant more than his own. Because that’s what love was, right? Sacrificing for the one you cared about, even if they never knew the weight of it.

“Are you happy, Satoru?”

Your question was simple enough, but you really had no idea just how much weight it held. Not like he would tell you. His head tilts, playfully smiling. “Happy? Why do you ask, hm?”

“I’ve just been wondering…” you mutter, tracing your glass rim with a manicured nail. Looking up at him in such a way that makes him want to wrap his arms around your body and hold on tight. “I don’t want to be invasive, but sometimes it just feels…faked.”

Huh, so you’re not as oblivious as he thought you were. 

But your words hit him like a cold wave, a shock to his system. You had no idea. You never would. The smile on his face falters for just a moment, yet it’s enough. Enough to make him feel like he’s exposed, vulnerable, like you might see right through the layers he’d spent so long building up.

Faked.

That word stings more than anything else you could’ve said. Because, in some twisted way, you were right. He had spent so long pretending, so long wearing a mask that even he had begun to forget what it was like to feel anything real. What it was like to want something for himself, to let someone in without fear.

He takes a slow breath, his gaze softening, eyes flicking to the side, pretending to consider the question. “I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice is casual, a practiced indifference, but inside, his heart is pounding.

You don’t buy it. You never did.

“I don’t know, Satoru. You always seem so… distant. Like you’re somewhere else, even when you’re here.” There’s a hint of concern in your tone, but it’s laced with a careful distance, as if you’re treading around something fragile.

He swallows hard, the weight of your gaze digging into him. You see it, don’t you? The cracks in the armor he’s so carefully constructed. The loneliness he hides behind every joke, every flirtatious smile.

But he can’t tell you the truth. Not when your words have the power to break him, to shatter everything he’s built up around himself. He can’t show you how deeply he cares, how much he wants to reach out and make you see him for what he truly is—just a man who’s afraid of losing something he’s never had.

He laughs, a little too loud—a little too involuntary. “I’m just a little busy, that’s all. Life’s a bit chaotic, but I’m fine. Really.”

Even so, you still don’t look convinced. And for a split second, he wonders if you’ve figured it out. If you can see the way his heart aches every time he’s near you, how badly he wishes things were different. How badly he wishes he could be the one to make you smile, make you laugh, in a way that wasn’t tainted by his unspoken feelings.

However instead, you just smile softly, a quiet understanding in your eyes. For just a moment, he thinks maybe you’ve known this whole time. Of course, he’ll never make you aware of how much that question, those few words, broke him inside. Not now. Not ever.

He can feel the cold of your engagement ring pressed against the back of his palm, looking over at you with parted lips, raised brows. Your expression is soft—too inviting. He almost can’t take it anymore. 

Your entire being brings him in, wrapping around his soul like a warm blanket on a cold night. Your eyes can hold a thousand different meanings, but so can your touch. The world blurs into a fade when it’s just you and him, like it always does. He can see the fireworks, feel the softness of your skin against his. 

He wants you so much. 

It’s a quiet ache, a longing that starts in the pit of his stomach and spreads like wildfire, burning him from the inside out. He’s so close to you now, the air between you two charged, heavy with unsaid words and unspoken desires.

Your breath catches as you watch him, and it only makes things worse. It’s as if you’re reading him, sensing the intensity of the pull that draws him to you, even though you shouldn’t. Even though you’re promised to someone else. But for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this space, and everything else ceases to exist.

His heart races as he subconsciously leans in, just a fraction of an inch. Like a man on the edge of something dangerous, something he knows he shouldn’t want, but does anyway. His fingers twitch against your wrist, the ring there a painful reminder of the distance between what is and what could never be.

You shift slightly, a small motion, but it’s enough to send a jolt through him. You’re so close now, your warmth seeping into him, your scent intoxicating. In a single brief and fleeting instant, he wonders if you feel the same pull, if you’re as caught in the web of longing as he is.

Just then, you blink; and the spell is broken. You pull back just enough. The correct amount of room to create a sliver of space, he feels his heart sink. “I…” Your voice is barely a whisper, as if you’re struggling with the weight of the moment too. But he knows what’s coming. You always have that hesitation, that gentle reluctance when it comes to him.

He swallows, the words caught in his throat, but the truth is too painful to speak. He can’t admit how much he wants you. He can’t admit that, despite the ring on your finger, despite everything that keeps you apart, he’s falling for you in ways that have nothing to do with logic and everything to do with his heart.

“I know,” he whispers finally, his voice low, barely audible, because it’s the only thing he can say without completely shattering the fragile barrier that keeps everything in check.

When deep down, in the part of him that refuses to let go, he wishes with everything he has that you could see him. That you could feel what he feels.

That you could love him, just once, the way he loves you.

He puts on his usual smile. He knows you see through it now, but there’s no point in hiding it. There’s no point in hiding anything anymore, is there? “I know,” he repeats. 

The words fall heavy between you, thick with unspoken truths, and yet, they feel like a fragile lie. He laughs again, but it’s different now. Not the carefree expression he usually wears, but one edged with something raw—something too real for either of you to ignore. He knows you see the cracks. He knows you feel the tension and the weight of everything he doesn’t say. It makes him ache in ways he can’t describe. You’ve always seen him, better than anyone else, better than he ever allowed anyone to. And even now, when the distance between you is palpable, when everything about this moment screams to turn away, neither of you can.

You’re still staring at him, your eyes warm but searching. You want more. You want to know what’s behind that smile, what’s behind the guarded words, the silence that screams louder than anything he’s ever said. You want to see through the layers, even when he’s terrified of what you might find.

Except that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? He’s terrified. Terrified of losing you, terrified of the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so completely. Terrified that you’ll slip away from him, like everyone else does.

“Satoru…” Your voice trembles slightly, hesitation lingering in the air like an uninvited guest. You want to say something, but you don’t know how. You want to reach for him, but you know the consequences. The space between you both feels endless, a chasm that neither of you can cross.

He really can’t keep pretending anymore.

His smile falters, his eyes dimming as he finally lets go of the pretense, removing the silence hanging in the air. He feels the weight of your gaze on him, steady and knowing, and something inside him breaks.

You know. You always knew.

“I don’t want to hide this anymore,” he admits quietly, his voice strained, his chest tight with the confession. It’s not a declaration of love, not yet. However, it’s the closest thing he can give you right now—the truth, raw and painful. He’s not sure what you’ll do with it, if it’ll push you further away or bring you closer, but the honesty feels both freeing and suffocating at the same time. He waits for your response, his heart hammering in his chest, terrified of the silence that follows. Because no matter what happens next, he knows that something between the two of you has irrevocably shifted. And there’s no going back.

When you look away from him, he gets his answer. With that, he laughs softly to himself in understanding. Not even needing to hear your soft words—whispered apologies. Because at the end of the day, he knew what would happen. 

He’s not mad at you for it, how could he be?

You’ve always been his anchor, even if you couldn’t see it. Even if he was just the one who stood in the background, quietly waiting, hoping for a moment like this. He knew that in the end, it would never be him, and somehow, he had accepted that. But it doesn’t make the ache any less painful, the hollow feeling in his chest where something once burned bright.

You’ve always belonged to someone else.

The way you look away, the way your fingers subtly twist the fabric of your shirt as if you’re gathering the courage to speak, tells him everything. You don’t need to apologize for anything. He knows. He always has.

But it doesn’t stop the weight from pressing down on him. It doesn’t stop the way his heart cracks, just a little bit more, with every moment that stretches between you both.

He should leave. Walk away before it hurts too much. Yet something keeps him there—something that’s always kept him tethered to you, even in your silence. Once more, he chuckles quietly. The sound is bitter in the back of his throat. He puts his smile back into place, masking the storm brewing inside. “It’s okay,” he says softly, almost as if he’s reassuring himself as much as you. “I get it.”

His voice is steady, but there’s a quiver that betrays him, a flicker of pain he can’t hide. You’ll never know just how much it stings. How it feels like something vital is slipping away, piece by piece. But he won’t show you that. Not now. Not when he knows you’re already carrying your own weight.

And so, he stays. Silent, distant, as you both continue to navigate the space between what you want and what you can’t have. No matter how much it hurts, he loves you. In the quietest, most agonizing way possible. And that’s enough for him, even if it will never be enough for you.

“Just…don’t leave me.” He mutters, almost like he doesn’t want to get the words out. He’s aware of the fact that he’s pushing more than he should—biting off more than he’s being given. 

You gulp, biting the inside of your cheek. A silent second passes before you nod. “I’d never let you go.”

When he’s walking back home that night, the air feels more suffocating than usual. His apartment—too big for one—is cold. Walking to his bedroom, not bothering to strip himself of his clothes as he plops down onto his bed. Staring up at the ceiling with a melancholic smile. Feeling a prickle of tears hit the corners of his eyes. They don’t fall—not yet. He swallows hard, but the lump in his throat won’t budge.

He should be happy, right? At least you didn’t leave him completely. Nonetheless, the promise in your words doesn’t feel like solace; it feels like a bandage over a wound that will never fully heal. He chortles, a hollow, bitter sound that fills the emptiness of the room.

That’s probably the nicest way he could’ve been let down. For some reason, it hurts more. 

Extremely more than he thought it would. Somewhere along the lines, he may have even somehow convinced himself that maybe—just maybe—things could be different. But of course, they weren’t. They never could be. The optimism in him is dying. 

The silence in his apartment is deafening, and in the quiet, his mind runs wild with every memory of you, every moment that he convinced himself meant more than it did. The way your voice eased when you spoke to him, the way your eyes lingered just a little too long. He had built up those fleeting moments into something real, something that could have existed in another life, in another world. However now, reality has slammed into him with brutal force, leaving him breathless and broken.

He curls his fingers into the sheets, his chest tightening. He wants to scream, but the words stick to the back of his throat. Instead, he lets out a long, shaky breath, the weight of everything settling deeper into his bones.

Tomorrow, he will smile again. Tomorrow, he will pretend everything is okay. So tonight, in the darkness of his room, it can just be him and the stabbing pain of unrequited love.

It’s so difficult because it’s more than he can bear. Even dreaming is not an escape from you. 

He lies there for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room closing in around him. His thoughts are a whirlwind—too much, too fast, all at once. He feels like he’s drowning in them, unable to pull himself out. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling the covers tighter around his body, as if they could shield him from the cold ache in his chest. The memory of your words, of the softness in your voice, keeps echoing in his mind: “I’d never let you go.” You hadn’t meant it the way he wanted, the way he had hoped. You had meant it in the kindest way possible, but all it did was reinforce the distance between you two. You couldn’t love him. You couldn’t be with him—not the way he needed you to be.

He tries to push away the thought, but it lingers, gnawing at him. The weight of knowing that you would never truly leave him, that you’d always be there. Still, never in the way he wanted. It cuts so much deeper than he could have imagined. It’s like a constant reminder that some things just aren’t meant to be.

A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand over his face, his fingers pressing against his eyes. He’s tired—so tired. Not physically, but emotionally. It’s exhausting, pretending. Entirely consuming it is to feel something that can never be returned the way it’s given.

He presses the back of his palm to his nose, inhaling the faint remnants of your scent. The tears finally fall, slow and quiet at first. Soon, they’re coming harder and faster. But he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t want anyone to hear, not like anyone would. He doesn’t want it to be known the way his heart is shattering, piece by piece, while he lies alone in the shadows of his apartment.

For a moment, he wishes you could feel this—this ache, this longing that gnaws at him until there’s nothing left but the hollowed-out shell of someone who will never truly be enough. He wishes you could understand how it feels to love someone so deeply, to want them more than anything, and yet know that your love will never be enough.

He laughs again, a bitter, empty sound, this time not hiding it. It’s a dull laugh that tastes like defeat. He wipes at his eyes, sniffling quietly, the tears continuing to fall. Then, he forces himself to take a deep breath, to stop.

He can’t let himself drown in this. Not now.

But the truth is, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep pretending. The weight of everything—the smiles, the casual conversations, the “I’m fine” that he spits out like it’s nothing—feels too heavy now. He wonders how long you were able to tell. If you saw through the facade when you first met him, if you noticed the cracks starting to form around him immediately. Maybe he was the oblivious one. 

He tells himself over and over again: you have your own life, your own love, your own future.

He rolls onto his side, facing the wall, the emptiness of his solitude swallowing him whole. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself, I’ll wake up, and I’ll be fine. He’s done this before. Pretending, masking the pain, wearing the boyish smile he knows so well. It’s easier than facing the truth, than admitting how much it hurts.

For now, in the quiet of his apartment, the only thing he can do is let the tears fall, and let himself grieve for the love he’ll never have. 

However, one day…something changes in Satoru. He doesn’t even expect it. It’s subtle at first. A shift, almost imperceptible, like the first breeze of spring after a long, bitter winter. He’s standing at the edge of the room, watching as you and Suguru stand hand in hand at the altar, your eyes locked with his in a way that is nothing short of reverent. Your smile—so soft, so full of love—shines through the quiet moment as Suguru vows to stand by you, to love you through everything. Maybe it’s the way you seem so at peace with yourself while looking his best friend in the eyes at the altar, or the way you're radiantly glowing when you two have your first dance. Or the way you still regard him with the same tenderness you did from day one. 

The ache grows quieter. 

As you look at him, there’s a quiet contentment that blooms in Satoru’s chest. It’s not pain, not jealousy, not longing. Just peace. Something about seeing you so at ease, so sure of yourself, brings a strange sense of clarity to his heart.

He doesn’t know what it is—perhaps it’s the way you carry yourself now, with confidence, with the kind of joy that was never there before—but he feels something relieve within him. The old throbbing pain, the one that had been gnawing at him for so long, then pauses just a bit. It’s like the final breath of a storm passing, leaving behind only calm.

 Later that evening, as he watches the two of you share your first dance, something settles in his chest, something he can’t quite explain. You’re  glowing under the soft lights, and the way Suguru holds you so gently, his fingers pressing into the small of your back, is enough to make Satoru’s throat tighten. There’s no regret, no bitterness. Just a quiet acceptance.

He knows, deep down, that this is your moment. And he’s finally okay with that.

Satoru’s gaze drifts to you as you laugh, your head tilting back slightly as Suguru twirls you in his arms. Your eyes meet his, just for a second, and he sees it—the same look you’ve always had for him. His eyes don’t move from you one bit throughout the night, feeling something drift into the air. His shoulders feel lighter. Now, it’s just… comfort. A quiet, steady beat that comes from knowing he’s been a part of something meaningful in your life, even if it wasn’t meant to be forever.

He smiles to himself, the ghost of his old longing fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, Satoru feels like he’s no longer holding onto something that’s slipping through his fingers. The pieces have finally clicked into place. So, in that moment, he realizes something he hadn’t anticipated. 

He’s free.

As the night winds down, and the last few guests start to trickle out, Satoru stays behind, quietly watching the empty dance floor. The lights are dimmed, the music faded, but the feeling of the day still lingers in the air. He knows that things have changed for him—deeply, irrevocably.

It’s not that he’s given up on love. Not at all. But something in him has shifted. It could be that his understanding is that love isn’t always about holding onto someone forever. Sometimes, it’s about letting them go—allowing them to find their happiness in their own way, even if it’s not with you.

You and Suguru have your own story now, and Satoru is finally okay with that. In fact, he’s grateful for it. Because without your happiness, without you finding peace with him, he never would have found peace with himself. 

He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all—of everything that’s passed, of everything that’s been said and unsaid—and it’s fine. It’s more than fine. He’s not angry. He’s not resentful. He’s content.

And that’s enough.

The days that follow are gentle. There’s no rush or no pressure. Satoru slowly moves forward with his life, embracing the little things—his work, his friendships, his quiet moments. There’s a stillness in him that wasn’t there before. The pain that had consumed him for so long doesn’t disappear completely, but it becomes more manageable. More bearable.

Of course, maybe one day, in another place, with another person, there will be a love that’s his to hold onto. But for now, he’s happy with this. He’s happy with letting go—with moving forward. Because in the end, he’s learned that love doesn’t always look the way you expect. It isn’t always a fairy tale. Sometimes, it’s just a silent acceptance, a letting go, and knowing that everything will be okay in the end.

For the first time in a long time, Satoru believes that.

Finally, he just sees you. Someone’s wife.

Satoru stands there for a moment, taking in the sight of you. The woman he once loved, now married to someone else. The years have passed, but you’re still the same in the most beautiful ways. Your smile is just as bright, and the warmth in your eyes is still the same, no matter how much time has passed.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice soft, a little hesitant. It’s been a few years since he last saw you at your wedding to Suguru. He assumed, with time, that he would somehow grow less attracted to you. Less drawn to your presence, your laughter, and the way you seem to light up the world just by being in it.

 How wrong he was.

You meet his gaze, and Satoru feels that familiar flutter in his chest, something he thought had long since faded. You haven’t changed. He’s never been able to forget the way you made him feel. The truth is, he probably never will. “I’m great,” you reply wholeheartedly, your smile so genuine it catches him off guard. The apples of your cheeks rise, and he can’t help but notice how much more beautiful you’ve become. There’s a glow about you, one that comes from happiness and contentment. The familiar glint in your eyes beams brighter than he’s ever seen before. It’s the same one that once made him think maybe he could be the one to make you smile like that forever.

 Prettier than any star.  

“Things have been well,” you continue, a slight tilt of your head as you study him. “How are you?”

Satoru swallows, his heart hammering in his chest, but he smiles. He’s not sure why it still affects him this way. Maybe it’s because he knows you’re happy, and that should be enough for him. But hearing you speak with that warmth, that sweetness, it still stirs something deep within him. “I’m good,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside him. He wants to tell you everything he wasn’t able to before—how much he’s missed you, how much he’s struggled to let go, how he’s still a little haunted by your absence. But he can’t. You’re someone else’s now. His best friend’s. And he can’t take that from you. He doesn’t want to, either. 

“Life’s… busy,” he adds, trying to change the subject, but he knows the words are empty. He’s never been able to lie to you. You always see through it.

You nod, as if understanding more than he’s said. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not awkward. It’s familiar in a way that brings him a strange sense of comfort. You’ve both come so far, yet here you are, still standing before him.

Satoru wants to say something—anything—that will make this moment last. Yet, he knows better now. He knows that some things are meant to pass, to be remembered only as bittersweet memories. “I’m happy for you,” he finally says, his voice quieter than before. His eyes meet yours, searching for any sign that maybe, just maybe, you might feel something too.

And there it is. A flicker. A brief, imperceptible flicker in your eyes. You’re still the same woman he once knew, the one who captured his heart and never quite let it go.

He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He can see it in the way you look at him. You’ve both changed, in ways that neither of you could have predicted. Really, that’s okay. You’re happy, and that’s all that matters.

“I’m glad to see you doing well, Satoru,” you say with that same warm smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?” The weight of the unspoken words lingers between you, yet it’s not painful. Not anymore. Satoru nods, his own smile genuine, even if it’s laced with sadness. He doesn’t need to hold onto the past anymore. You’ve found your place in the world, and he’s finally at peace with that.

“I will,” he says quietly. “You too.”

Staying in your presence feels nice, no words having to be spoken when your actions do it all. Fleeting looks, warm smiles, hushed chuckles. He can’t stop his body from reciprocating. Every time your fingers brush against his by accident, a jolt of electricity runs through him. When your voice dances in the air, light and carefree, it takes every ounce of control he has not to reach out and pull you closer into a hug. Your presence is a kind of calm he didn’t know he needed, a peace he’s been missing, even after all these years.

He’s missed you. That’s okay to admit, right?

“Are you with someone now, Satoru?” You ask, sipping your coffee with an innocent eyebrow raise. 

He shakes you off with a chuckle. “Nah, no one. I’m a lone wolf, remember?”

Playfully, you roll your eyes. “Right. Well, every lone wolf needs his mate, doesn’t he?”

“Please don’t use ABO logic on me.”

You kick his shin under the table and he dramatically responds with a frown. Looking at him from the large window that displays the warm morning of Saturday. Speaking with such integrity that it’s hard not to believe you. “I’m serious, Satoru. When it happens, I want to be there for you. Your soulmate is just walking around everyday life waiting for you, I look forward to you finally getting to experience that.”

His heart melts, smirk softening into genuineness. He can’t find it in him to say how wrong you probably are, to crush your dreams of him finding his one true love one day. How could he? You just want what’s best for him, and that’s why he loves you so much. 

“Soulmate…” he repeats to himself lowly, watching you laugh gingerly before looking back out at the window. His eyes glance down at his left pinky finger, flexing it. 

Red string of fate. 

He can imagine the circle around his pinky, red and bright with intensity; glowing like a beacon of everything he’s always wanted and dreamed for. He looks back up at you, your side profile so perfectly structured in the warm light. The way your features align effortlessly like they were meant to be there. He can’t help the crinkle of his eyes when his smile grows wider and more genuine. The time he spent longing for you, it all seems to fade away when he looks at you like this. He lightly jerks his hand.  

And for a brief, suspended moment, he catches the sight of your left pinky twitching, being tugged just barely in his direction before you adjust your grip on your coffee. 

He follows your gaze, hiding a snicker behind the rim of his cup. 

Yeah, she is just walking around, isn’t she?

a/n: hiiiii! i really hoped you guys enjoyed this, while writing this i didn't feel very confident and I still sort of don't, but I really hope it satisfies u all <3 as I said b4 thank you so much for 1k followers, I didn't expect this to happen lollolol but your support has been so appreciated. with this new year, I hope to put out more works, and I hope u all stay along for the ride. have a great day!!!! love and kisses

[ikkyfics]

may i req a remus fic? maybe smtg angsty? like hes dating the r for a bet? i lovee u anyways, I'll devour whatever remus fics u decided to write my love

Sweet Lies

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: Remus had come closer to you. He had said the right words, held your hand, kissed you with a tenderness that felt so real. But it was all a lie. All part of a stupid bet.

Warnings: angst

A/N:honey, I hope you like it and you are so sweet, saying these things that make my heart race - thank you so much <333333 I really hope this doesn't just sound like a stupid cliché

Masterlist

Remus Lupin entered your life like a comet: unexpected, bright, and impossible to ignore. It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when you stopped seeing him as just another quiet student from your house and began to notice the quiet strength he carried. There was something in the way he seemed to notice the details that everyone else missed—a book you liked to carry with you, the slightly frustrated tone in his voice when someone interrupted you during a heated discussion about spells. He didn’t just see you, but seemed to understand the parts of you that no one else bothered to unravel.

You had always been calmer, more reserved. In a castle full of extravagant personalities and voices echoing down stone corridors, you were the type of person who preferred to observe. But Remus changed that. Not in a grand or obvious way, but with small gestures that slowly began to dismantle the walls you had built around yourself.

“You’re always so focused here,” he commented once, sitting beside you in a quiet corner of the library. His brown eyes shone with something that seemed like genuine admiration. “It’s like the world could end outside, and you wouldn’t even notice.”

You had laughed, trying to look away, but he didn’t give you room to escape. “Maybe because the world is calmer in here,” you replied, closing the book you were reading. “There aren’t as many distractions.”

“Is that so?” His tone was curious, almost challenging. “And me? Am I a distraction?”

He was. From the first moment he pulled a chair next to you, from the first time he asked if you needed help with that complicated spell in Defense Against the Dark Arts. His presence was a constant distraction—and one you didn’t want to escape.

Now, as you both walked across the school grounds, the night air bringing with it a chill that made the sky look even more starry, Remus held your hand gently. His fingers were long and slender, marked with scars he never fully explained, but which you had learned to recognize as an essential part of him.

“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly, stopping in the middle of the path to look at you. The moonlight danced on his brown hair, tousled by the wind.

“Not really,” you lied, not wanting to break the moment.

Remus raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smile you knew was reserved for when he was about to challenge you. “You’re not a very good liar, you know that?”

Before you could answer, he took off the scarf he was wearing and carefully wrapped it around your neck. The touch of his fingers brushing your skin made a pleasant warmth rise on your cheeks.

“All set,” he said, adjusting the scarf as if it were the most important thing in the world. “Now, no cold can get to you.”

You didn’t respond, simply pulling him by the collar of his robe, making him lean closer. Your lips met in a slow, peaceful kiss, a perfect reflection of how Remus made you feel. He was everything you didn’t know you needed: secure, warm, and a little broken, but somehow whole when he was by your side.

When you pulled away, his eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “If I could, I’d stay here forever,” he whispered, his voice deep but soft. “Just the two of us. Nothing else matters.”

"Remus," you called, hesitantly.

He turned his head toward you, his brown eyes shining with that familiar mix of curiosity and patience. "Hm?"

"Do you think people can really change? I mean... not just change on the outside, but on the inside too?" Your question slipped out before you could stop it, and for a moment, you almost regretted saying something so vulnerable.

Remus furrowed his brow, a subtle gesture you had learned to recognize as a sign that he was thinking deeply. "I think so," he replied carefully. "But it’s not easy. Changing means facing parts of yourself you’d rather ignore. And not everyone is willing to do that."

You looked at him, noticing how the moonlight seemed to soften the lines of his face, making him almost ethereal. There was something comforting in the way he spoke, as if he understood things that no one else could.

"I’m asking because..." You paused, the hesitation tightening around your throat. Part of you wanted to pull back, keep what you were about to say hidden, like you always had. But his presence had a way of making you feel safe, as if nothing could hurt you while he was by your side. "Because sometimes, I feel like I’m... not enough. Like I’ll never be good enough for anyone."

His eyes met hers with an intensity that was almost unbearable. "Why do you think that?"

You shrugged, trying to keep a light tone that contradicted the pain in your words. "I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve never been the one people choose. I’m... comfortable, but not memorable."

The silence that followed your words wasn’t empty. It was heavy, filled with something you couldn’t name. Remus squeezed your hand, and when he finally spoke, his voice carried an emotion you hadn’t expected.

"That’s not true," he said, almost in a whisper. "You’re so much more than you think you are. And if other people can’t see that, the problem is theirs, not yours."

The warmth in his words warmed something inside you, something that had long seemed dormant. You looked at him, searching for a clue in his brown eyes that always seemed to be full of secrets. He knew how to say the right things, but there was something in that response—a hesitation, a slight tremor in his voice—as if he carried an invisible weight.

"Do you really think that?" you asked, your voice filled with a vulnerability that was hard to admit.

Remus hesitated, just for a moment. It was such a small gesture that, if you weren’t paying attention, it could’ve gone unnoticed. But you did. The pause was brief, but enough for something inside you, something very small, to stir.

"I do," he finally replied, his voice firm now, as if he wanted to bury any doubt that might have arisen. "You’re incredible. And I want you to know that."

You believed him. There was no way to doubt him when he said things in that deep, conviction-filled tone. So, you let the moment pass, preferring the security of the present to questioning what might have caused his hesitation.

When he leaned in toward you again, pressing his lips to yours, you allowed yourself to believe that this was all that mattered. The kiss was calm, unhurried, but filled with something you couldn’t name. Maybe a silent promise.

The next few days passed like a dream for you. Everything seemed to align in almost a magical way. Remus was always around, with that soft smile and the eyes that seemed to see straight into your soul. He had a way of making even the simplest moments—like studying in the library or walking through the halls of Hogwarts—feel special.

You couldn’t help the smile that appeared whenever you thought of him. He made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered, like everything around you could fall apart, and yet you’d be safe as long as you were with him.

That afternoon, you were leaving the charms classroom when you heard familiar voices coming from a nearby corridor. The sound of laughter was the first thing that caught your attention, followed by the unmistakable tone of Sirius Black.

"You have to admit, Moony, it was brilliant," Sirius was saying, his voice full of amusement.

"I don’t know if brilliant is the right word," Remus replied, but there was a light tone to his voice, as if he was trying to hide something.

Curious and with a smile on your face, you made your way toward the voices. It was always nice to see Remus with his friends. He seemed so at ease with them, so different from the introspective Remus you knew. And you liked Sirius—he had that easy charm that made you laugh even when you didn’t want to.

But when you got close enough to see them, you stopped. They were facing away from you, meaning they hadn’t noticed your presence. Remus was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, while Sirius gestured animatedly.

"I still can’t believe you pulled it off," Sirius continued, laughing. "You know, of all of us, I thought you’d be the last to take a bet like that."

The smile on your face froze.

Remus sighed, looking uncomfortable. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Sirius."

"But it was, and it worked," Sirius insisted. "Thanks to you, Prongs finally got what he wanted. Lily agreed to go out with him. All because you got our friend here to think you were interested."

You couldn’t move. It was as if the ground had disappeared beneath your feet.

"I..." Remus hesitated, and for the first time, his voice sounded heavy. "It’s not that simple, Sirius. She... she trusts me. I didn’t want it to be like this."

"But it was," Sirius repeated, now with less enthusiasm. "And don’t tell me you didn’t know from the start that this was a bet. You agreed, Remus. And now... well, you know it’s not going to last forever."

You wanted to say something. You wanted to shout, cry, demand an explanation. But the words were stuck in your throat. Everything around you seemed to spin. The air was cold, but it felt like you were suffocating.

Remus had come closer to you. He had said the right words, held your hand, kissed you with a tenderness that felt so real. But it was all a lie. All part of a stupid bet.

Without realizing it, you took a step back, and the sound of your movement echoed down the corridor. They both turned immediately, and the expression on Remus’s face when he saw you was enough to break your heart.

"You heard," he whispered, his voice full of something that seemed like regret.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust your own voice. All you could do was look at him, your eyes filled with tears you refused to shed there, in front of them. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, and the pain in your chest was so intense it felt impossible to stay there for another second. So, you turned away, without saying a word, and began to walk, your steps quick and awkward, desperately trying to put distance between you.

"Wait!" Remus’s voice echoed down the corridor, full of urgency.

You didn’t stop. Not for a second. The tears burned in your eyes, threatening to fall, but you blinked furiously, determined not to let him see how much he had hurt you.

"Please, just... listen to me!" Remus insisted, now closer. You could hear the sound of his footsteps, hurried, as he tried to catch up with you.

"Leave me alone, Remus!" Your voice came out louder than you intended, broken by the knot in your throat. But you didn’t care. All you wanted was to disappear, to flee from that nightmare that seemed to be sucking the air from your lungs.

But he didn’t give up. Before you could take another step, you felt his hand grabbing your arm. The touch was firm, but not aggressive, as if he were afraid of hurting you even more.

"Please, listen to me," he pleaded, his voice low now, almost begging.

You turned toward him with a sharp movement, pulling your arm from his touch. "Listen to me?!" Your voice trembled, filled with hurt and disbelief. "What else can you say, Remus? That it was all a bet? That I was just a joke to you and your friends?!"

He shook his head so forcefully that his brown hair fell over his eyes. "It’s not like that, I swear! It wasn’t supposed to be like this..."

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this?!" You took a step back, as if his proximity was too much to bear. "Then tell me, how exactly was it supposed to be, Remus?!"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His silence was like a direct blow to your chest. You saw the conflict in his eyes, the pain, the guilt... but also the truth.

"It was real," he finally said, his voice hoarse, almost inaudible. "What I feel for you... it’s real. I know I messed everything up, but I need you to know that."

You laughed, but the sound was empty, almost cruel. "Real? You think that matters now? After everything? You got close to me to help James get a date with Lily, Remus. You used me. How... how can you say that’s real?"

He took a step toward you, his eyes pleading. "I know it seems unforgivable, but please, believe me. I never meant to hurt you. I... I don’t even know when I started feeling this for you. But I do. I feel it so much it hurts."

"Well, congratulations," you shot back, your voice heavy with sarcasm and pain. "At least we’re on the same page. Because it hurts, Remus. It hurts so much that I can barely breathe. And you’re the reason for it."

The words came out before you could think, but they were true. He looked at you as if every syllable had been a blade. "I just wanted a chance to explain..."

"There’s nothing to explain," you interrupted, your voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "You’ve already said everything you needed. And I... I was foolish enough to believe in you."

You didn’t wait to see his reaction. Turning, you ran, ignoring his calls behind you. The tears finally fell, a cascade of pain you couldn’t contain any longer. And as you ran, you realized that no matter how fast your feet moved, there was no escaping the feeling of having entrusted your heart to someone who shattered it.

The following days were a blur of pain and emptiness. You felt like you were moving through life as a shadow of yourself, desperately trying to rebuild the walls you had torn down for him. Every brick you laid felt too heavy, as if the hurt and betrayal had drained all your strength.

Avoiding Remus was harder than you’d like. Hogwarts suddenly felt too small, with hallways that always seemed to lead him to you. But you refused to look into his eyes, to give any sign that he still had power over you. It was always the same: turn into another hallway, enter an empty room, or simply lower your head and keep walking.

You felt his gaze on you sometimes. Not insistently, but present. Like a shadow. He didn’t confront you directly, didn’t call your name out loud, but you knew he was there, at a distance, trying to find a moment when you weren’t so broken.

But you weren’t ready. Maybe you never would be.

Remus, on the other hand, seemed more worn out with each passing day. He clung to the routine like a man adrift, trying not to drown in the sea of guilt that consumed him. He knew he had no right to approach you, not after what he had done. But he also knew he couldn’t just leave things as they were.

He tried a few times, hesitantly, to approach you in the hallways. "Please, just a minute..." he had started on one occasion, but the way you ignored him, as if he didn’t exist, was worse than any response.

Other times, he simply watched from afar, waiting for a sign, anything that might indicate that you were willing to listen to him. But nothing came.

He threw himself into his studies, trying to find a distraction, but even that was useless. The words in the books seemed to dance, and he couldn’t focus for more than a few minutes. Every time he closed his eyes, the memory of how it all started haunted him, cruel and relentless.

James had presented the idea casually, almost as a joke. "If you get close to her, Remus, I swear Lily will go out with me. She said she’d only agree when our grumpy friend finally had a boyfriend."

Remus remembered Sirius laughing when he heard the plan, how he had crossed his arms and commented on how impossible it would be to win you over. "She’s not the type to fall for tricks, Prongs."

But James, with that confident smile and unshakable determination, insisted. And Remus, for reasons he didn’t even fully understand at the time, agreed. Maybe it was James’s persistence, or the need to help his friend get what he wanted so badly. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe, deep down, he already knew there was something about you that intrigued him.

At first, that was all it was. A simple, almost harmless plan. He would get closer, gain your trust, and then James would have his chance with Lily. But nothing went as he expected.

You were different. From the very beginning, Remus realized there was something about you he couldn’t ignore. The way you spoke, with a calm tone but filled with passion for what mattered to you. The way you laughed, a sound that seemed to light up any room, even though it was rare. The way you looked at him, as if you saw beyond the scars and the calm facade he tried to maintain.

He started with small gestures: sitting next to you in class, starting casual conversations in the hallways. And every time you smiled at him, something inside him melted. He liked being the cause of that smile. He liked hearing you laugh, seeing your face soften when he made some silly comment to ease the tension.

And then came the kiss.

Remus would never forget that moment. He didn’t know exactly how it happened—maybe it was the way you looked at him that afternoon, the sun setting and bathing your face in golden tones, or maybe it was the way your soft laugh filled the silence between you. But he knew he couldn’t resist anymore.

When your lips met his, it was as if the world had stopped. There was no bet, no guilt, nothing but you. He felt his hand tremble slightly as it touched your face, but when you returned the kiss, when your fingers found their way into his hair, Remus knew that was the best moment of his life.

And that was why he couldn’t confess.

Every time he thought about telling you the truth, the fear paralyzed him. He knew he had started it all for the wrong reasons, that he had lied to you, but now... now you were the most important thing to him. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you.

But the weight of the guilt was unbearable. Every smile you gave him, he felt the knot tightening in his throat. Every intimate moment, he hated himself a little more. He wanted to believe that what you had was strong enough to survive the truth, but a part of him knew that the revelation would destroy everything.

And now, as he walked through the empty hallways of Hogwarts, trying not to think about the sound of your broken voice, Remus knew he had made the wrong choice. He should have been honest. He should have told you everything before it was too late.

But he didn’t. And now, he didn’t know how to fix what he had broken.

The reunion happened days later, at the end of a quiet hallway near the library. You had gone there to find a moment of peace, away from curious glances and whispers that seemed to follow you wherever you went. But, as if the universe insisted on testing your strength, he was there.

Remus was leaning against the wall, his face marked by exhaustion, his brown eyes fixed on the floor as if carrying the weight of the world. When he heard your footsteps, he lifted his gaze, and the air seemed to vanish from the space.

"I... I didn't know if I should be here," he started, his voice rough, as if he had rehearsed those words a million times and still didn’t know how to say them. "But I needed to see you."

"Why?" Your voice was cold, distant, but inside, everything was in ruins. "What more could you possibly say, Remus? What’s left to explain?"

He took a step towards you, but stopped when he saw the way you instinctively stepped back. The pain on his face was almost tangible, but it was nothing compared to what you felt.

"I know I messed everything up," he said, his voice breaking. "And I know it's selfish of me to want to talk to you after everything. But I can’t... I can’t just let you go without trying, without telling you how much you mean to me."

"Mean to you?" You repeated, laughing without humor. "Remus, I was a bet. I was just a means to an end. And now you want to tell me I mean something?"

He shook his head, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It wasn’t like that... it’s not like that. Yes, in the beginning, it was because of James. But from the moment I truly got to know you, everything changed. You changed everything. I know this doesn’t erase what I did, but... I love you."

"Don’t say that," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Don’t make this harder than it already is."

"But it’s true!" He took another step, and this time you didn’t back away, even though you wanted to. "I love you. I loved you from the moment I realized you were different from anyone I’ve ever met. From the moment you let me into your life, even when I didn’t deserve it."

You stared at him, your heart racing, and the pain you had tried to suppress overflowed. "And that’s what makes it worse, Remus. Because, despite everything, despite the lie, despite the betrayal..." Your voice faltered, but you gathered all the courage you still had to say the words you feared the most. "I still love you."

The silence that followed was deafening. Remus seemed to freeze, his eyes wide as he absorbed your words.

"You have no idea how much this hurts," you continued, your voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Remus. And that’s what’s destroying me, because I know I can’t trust you. I know that every time I look at you, I’ll remember that it all started with a lie. And I don’t know how to deal with that."

"I didn’t want to hurt you," he said, his voice filled with desperation. "If I could go back in time, if I could change anything, it would be this. I never would have been part of that bet. I would have gotten to know you for you, not because of James’s stupid plan."

You laughed, but it was an empty sound, devoid of joy. "That doesn’t change anything. You made a choice, Remus. And now we both have to live with the consequences."

He approached slowly, as if every step was a silent plea. "Then tell me what I can do. How can I fix this? Because I can’t imagine my life without you."

"There’s no fixing it." Your voice was firm, even as your heart seemed to shatter. "Some things, Remus, can’t be repaired. Some things just break, and all we can do is accept it."

For a moment, you stood in silence, the world around you fading as you looked at him, trying to memorize that moment. Because you knew it would be the last.

"I wish things were different," you finally said, your voice so low you could barely hear it. "But they’re not. Please, just... go away."

His gaze shattered, and for a moment, he looked as if he was about to say something more. But then he simply nodded, the heavy silence settling between you before he turned away, his footsteps echoing through the empty hallway.

You waited until he disappeared before letting the first sob escape, as painful as the feeling inside you.

[lh44girl]

“Glowing with Love”

The sunlight filtering through the curtains woke Lewis, but it wasn’t just the warmth of the room or the soft hum of the morning that held his attention—it was you. You lay beside him, tangled in the sheets, your skin glowing like molten gold in the light. His eyes traveled over you, lingering on the subtle fullness of your chest, the gentle curve of your body that seemed softer, rounder somehow

You stirred slightly, your cheeks already flushed, though not from embarrassment. Lately, you’d been running warmer, your skin always radiating heat against his. Lewis reached out, his fingertips tracing the line of your shoulder before trailing down your arm, his touch soft but deliberate.

“Morning, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and husky from sleep.

You stretched lazily, your tank top riding not hiding anything for the imagination just enough for him to catch a view of your glowing skin,& your full breasts . His eyes darkened as he shifted closer, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you against him. You didn’t protest—if anything, you leaned into his touch, your lips curving into a sleepy smile.

“You’re staring,” you teased, your voice soft and playful, though a little self-conscious under his intense gaze.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his lips brushing against your temple before trailing down to your cheek, then your jawline. “You look different lately. More beautiful. And…” His hand slid higher, resting just below your breast, his thumb brushing the soft swell through the fabric of your top. “Your body feels different.”

A small gasp escaped you as his lips found yours, lingering this time, deeper and slower than usual. His tongue swept against yours, his kiss igniting something primal and all-consuming. His hand moved to your chest, cupping you gently, and his touch sent a ripple of heat coursing through you.

“Lew…” you whispered breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed you again, his lips moving with a hunger that matched the fire simmering in your core.

He pulled back just enough to study you, his dark eyes searching yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “You’ve been different, baby,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your nipple, feeling how sensitive you were. “Your body, your moods, the way you can’t seem to get enough of me lately…” His voice trailed off, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You blinked, your heart racing. You laughed softly, your mood flipping from sleepy to playful in an instant. “I-I don’t know feel fine, just… different, I guess,” you admitted, running your fingers through your hair. “Maybe I’m just tired or ..hor-hormonal or ..something.”you stammered, your shyness creeping in even as his touch set you alight.

He smiled against your lips, his hand moving down to caress your waist before resting protectively over your belly. “I don’t need a test to know,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet certainty. “I can feel it. You’re glowing, love. And if I’m right…” His kisses deepened, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. “You’re carrying my baby.”

Tears pricked your eyes at the overwhelming tenderness in his voice, but before you could respond, he kissed you again—harder this time, as though he was claiming you all over again. His hands roamed your body reverently, memorizing every curve, every change.

“I don’t care what happens,” he murmured between kisses, his forehead resting against yours. “All I care about is you. You’re mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make you the happiest woman alive.”

His hand lingered over your belly again, his thumb tracing gentle circles as if he were already connecting with the life you might be carrying. “We’ll take the test today,” he said softly, “but I already know…you are making me the happiest man in the world and you will be the greatest mother ever .”

And as he kissed you again, slow and intoxicating, you knew too. Whatever came next, it would be beautiful, just like the love you shared with him.

[bionicfinds]

Happy New Year Simblr Love Train Train!🎉🥳

Thank youu so much sweet hamster 😌😎 for even tagging me! @hamsterbellbelle I will continue this train! You know, I promise I will be active again this month. Coming back for sure! I'm just gathering the scraps and my shit, lol. It's been a while and life was last year my 1st prior. But now I want to combine the two worlds. Hence, why I'm fixing and updating my saves and I will be coming back in a week, I hope. Truly miss my lovely chooms and friends over here. Appreciate the love given to me and my humble little corner. Wish you all a happy new year and to all those who I haven't tagged.

Here are my fav simblrs who's work, stories, and content I openly and secretly admire 💕😁👀 To my friends - you know who you are: Hiiiii I'm coming back next week! Miss ya all! Smoochies! 😘💕😊

@mechtasims @simmireen @herecirmsims @ninawhims @rebouks @whimsy-em @simmerianne93 @sciophobis @helgatisha @pralinesims @nv-games @radioactivedotcom @radioactivespacebug @simandy @magnolianfarewell @omgcoffinfit @iko-sims @simscitizen, @sforzinda @nell-le @gunthermunch and many many more...

Cheers chooms to the new year!

PS: I reblogged it accidentally on my CC Finds! Welp, I reblogged it on my main blog, too. Why not, right?

Starting a simblr love train 💚

With the holidays here and the year ending, I think its rather appropriate to start a love train! Tag your favorite people so show your love and appreciation to them 💚

[thesecondhandwoman]

COUNTING HER FRECKLES

Vi x f!reader

Synopsis: Early in the morning, while Vi was still asleep and you had just woken up, you couldn’t help but notice the little constellations of freckles on Vi’s face.

The morning sunlight spilled through the half-closed curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. The warmth of the blankets cocooned you, but it was the woman lying next to you that truly kept you rooted in place. Vi was sprawled out on her back, an arm slung over her head, her mouth slightly open as she snored faintly. A tiny trail of drool glittered at the corner of her lips, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your own.

You rolled onto your side, propping your head up with one hand. Her freckled cheeks were kissed by the sunlight, and her crimson hair stuck up in every direction. Even like this,unfiltered, messy, unguarded, she was stunning. Maybe even more so.

Carefully, you reached out to trace the faintest of lines across her skin, stopping short of touching her. “One, two, three…” you whispered under your breath, counting the constellation of freckles on her nose. You had no idea how she got freckles with her pale skin and constant yet humorous scowl, but you were grateful for them.

“Mmm…” Vi stirred, her head tilting slightly toward the sound of your voice. Her lashes fluttered, though her eyes stayed shut. A soft, groggy smile tugged at her lips, and she slurred, “Y’doin’, babe?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “Counting your freckles. Shh, don’t move. You’ll mess up my math.”

“Math?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse with sleep. “It’s too early for math,” She cracked an eye open, peering at you with a mix of confusion and amusement. “Y’always this weird?”

“Always,” you replied, grinning. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re drooling.”

Her brows furrowed, and she quickly wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, grumbling incoherently. “Don’t call it that…” Her pout was impossibly endearing.

“You’re right,” you teased, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “It’s not drooling. It’s aggressive hydration.”

Vi snorted, her laughter muffled by the pillow as she turned her face into it. “Stop, you’re killin’ me,” she groaned, though her hand reached out to curl around your waist, pulling you closer. “Lemme sleep.”

“You’re already awake,” you pointed out, though you didn’t resist when she tucked you against her chest. Her body was warm, her heartbeat a steady rhythm under your cheek.

“Not awake,” she mumbled. “Just resting my eyes.”

You ran your fingers up and down her arm, tracing the scarred skin there. “Your snoring says otherwise.”

Vi groaned again, this time more dramatically. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “I like you like this. All soft and sleepy and human.”

“Not soft,” she muttered, though her grip on you tightened. “I’m tough. Real tough.”

“Sure, babe,” you said, hiding your smile against her skin. “Super tough.”

Her only response was a low, contented hum as she drifted back into a half-sleep. You stayed like that, counting her freckles in your head and savoring the rare moment of peace. The world could wait a little while longer. For now, it was just you and her, tangled together in the soft light of morning.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: I know this is extremely short but I found it in my notes and thought I should post it (just a cute one shot).

[dixons-sunshine]

To The Place I Belong | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: The world could be cruel. Especially now, as dangers lurked behind every corner in the forms of both the dead and the living. However, despite all of that, Daryl found his solace in the two people he loved most—you and your daughter.

Genre: Fluff.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1k.

A/N: Requested—or well, a spark of inspiration given by— @holdmytesseract. I hope you like this, my love!

The chilling wind blew through Daryl’s hair as he looked out the window of the truck. Rick was driving the vehicle, the former sheriff’s deputy silent as he focused on getting them both home safely. The gates of Alexandria loomed closer, the promise of safety, of security, a mere few yards away.

You and Hazel were almost within reach.

The vehicle soon came to a stop within the gated community. The sun had just begun its slow descent into the horizon, the ball of flames disappearing behind the mountains. Daryl and Rick both simply left all the supplies on the truck and took different paths to their own homes, the found brothers both silently agreeing that sorting through everything and taking things back to the pantry could wait until the morning. Although Daryl usually would have taken on the task himself and worked late into the night to finish it, he could not be bothered to do so that night. It could indeed wait until the next day.

Daryl’s boots made dull thuds against the pavement as he made his way towards the all too familiar porch. He carefully climbed the few steps that lead up to the front door, and slowly turned the doorknob that would lead him to his own private sanctuary, his escape from the horrors of the world run by the undead.

The crossbow-wielding archer was instantly greeted with the amazing aroma of freshly cooked stew. It made his stomach rumble, making him aware of the fact that he had not eaten anything that day. He had slipped from the bed at the crack of dawn when the house was completely silent. You had still been asleep when he had left for the planned scavenging trip with Rick, your baby girl also still deep within the realms of slumber in her crib in her nursery, dreaming of whatever babies dreamt about.

Daryl smiled his signature half smile when he approached the kitchen and saw what you were up to. You were humming to yourself as you went about tidying up the space, your efficiency being hindered by the fact that you held Hazel in your embrace as well. However, as you had said many times before, it did not bother you. You loved your little munchkin with all of your heart. A little more time spent on cleaning meant nothing in comparison to the love you held for your daughter.

“Somethin’ smells amazin’,” Daryl spoke up after a good twenty seconds of simply observing you.

You spun around at the sound of your husband’s voice, a loving smile gracing your features. “You’re back.” You laughed lightly when Hazel eagerly wriggled around in your arms, her babbles incoherent but clearly getting her point across—she wanted her dad. “Looks like someone missed you.”

Your husband smiled and stepped forward, plucking Hazel from your arms and gently holding her against him. “Hey, babygirl,” he cooed to her softly. “Did ya miss me?” All Daryl got in response was a little adorable giggle. “Well, I certainly missed you, Hazelnut. You ‘n your mama.”

“And we missed you,” you voiced softly, stepping up to stand beside Daryl. You reached out and stroked Hazel’s head tenderly, still in awe—even all those months later—by the fact that you had created such a beautiful human being with the man you loved so much. “We missed you so much.”

Daryl’s heart fluttered in his chest. “Yeah?” he asked rhetorically.

You nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. You were gone for far too long. Isn’t that right, Baby?” Your lips twitched up at the coo you got in response from Hazel. “You should probably just forget all your responsibilities and spend all your time here with us.”

“S’that right?” Daryl asked, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your temple. “’Cause I ain’t against that plan at all. Y’sure you can handle me twenty-four seven?”

You laughed and nodded. “I’m sure a couple more hours of you everyday won’t kill me,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with yours.

Daryl simply chuckled and shook his head. “Well, when ya put it like that, how m’I s’posed to say no?”

“You can’t,” you began playfully. “You can try to decline, but your attempts will be futile. It will be met with resistance in the form of kisses and baby cuddles.”

“Oh, god. Please no. Not the baby cuddles,” Daryl gasped in mock fear. “How s’anyone s’posed to survive the baby cuddles? M’doomed.” He tickled Hazel’s stomach, laughing with her when she squealed happily.

Your heart swelled with love as you watched the two people you loved most. Daryl had come so far. He had grown from that man you had first met at the quarry to he one you got to see now every day. The one you got to love and cherish. The one you got to call your husband.

You smiled softly when Hazel let out a big yawn and lowered her head to rest against Daryl’s shoulder. “I think it’s time we get her to bed,” you said, placing a gentle hand on your archer’s arm.

Daryl shared a look with you, one that voiced more than words ever could. “Alright.”

You both worked together to put your little girl to bed. It was relatively easy to do. One lullaby with some gentle rocking and she was out like a light. You watched as Daryl slowly and carefully lowered Hazel into her crib, before lowering himself down to press one final kiss to her forehead. It was a sweet gesture, one that spoke volumes of his love for the tiny human being that rested within the crib.

You quietly closed the door behind you when you and Daryl left the nursery. Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but it was cut off by the unexpected feeling of your arms wrapping around him. He easily returned the gesture, holding you tightly against him.

“I missed you,” you spoke up, your voice muddled as you nuzzled your face into his chest.

Daryl smiled. “Missed ya too, Sweetheart.” And he meant that. Despite only being apart for a few hours, he had missed you. He had missed Hazel. He had missed his little family. After years of wandering around and wondering where he fit in, he had found it. He had finally found the place where he belongs. His home.

You.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Winter Warning

Summary: When a severe storm rolls around during the holidays, you’re hesitant to let your girlfriend go off on a mission. With New Years right around the corner, you don’t know if she’ll be back in time to celebrate one of the holidays you find most important. Natasha Romanoff x Reader (brief Steve appearance) WC: 1,390 Warnings/Themes: Fluff, slight angst A/N: Happy new year!! I wish you all the best in 2025 <3

The flurries of white nearly covered your entire view out of the New York apartment. Blankets of snow were falling onto the icy city streets that were now empty due to incoming weather warnings. One of the few times of the year where the bustling city noise suddenly disappeared. Out of all the reasons you and Natasha picked this apartment, the view was the most enticing one. A window overlooking the city that gave the cozy apartment a peek into the busy outer world, while still offering shield to the hustle and bustle. You also assumed the wide overlook gave Natasha a chance to keep an eye on things, but she’d never admit that.

Natasha, your girlfriend, was still hard at work as an Avenger. Crumbling cities and alien attacks didn’t just pause for the holidays—no matter how much you hoped they would. December passed in a blur of holiday cheer, each day filled with something fun and special as the two of you created new holiday memories. From picking out ornaments together, to baking new recipes, it was all you could ever hope for.

But the second each present was opened and the entire panettone was finished, Natasha was asked to join a last minute mission. Knowing the way her job worked, it was less of a request and more of a demand—but everyone was still in the lenient holiday mood. Natasha wasn’t one to argue, so off she went packing a duffel for what was supposed to be a couple days away from home.

It had only been a few months of the apartment being called home. Natasha was hesitant to use that word at first, especially when most of her life was stuck in various places across the globe. Once all her possessions were under one roof, it gave both of you some peace of mind. You were relieved to see her settling into this new space, and she was happy you were happy.

You were disappointed when hearing she had to leave home for a few days, but ultimately understood. After giving her a reluctant kiss goodbye, the clock for her return started ticking. Little did you know, she’d be gone more than just a few days. A tricky mission paired with severe snowstorm warnings threatened the next few weeks; you didn’t even consider what that meant until her car was long gone. You would be alone for New Years.

Maybe it was selfish to worry about being alone for a holiday that only celebrates the changing of a calendar, but Natasha knew how important New Years was for you. When she first met you, your warm personality was covered by the cold front you were forced to put up. An enemy agent only working under duress of the higher ups left you to follow tasks in fear of the consequences. But Natasha was intelligent, and knew how to break you down in order to complete her mission. What neither of you could’ve expected was the fearing girl you were underneath it all.

After all that happened, Natasha couldn’t help but take you under her wing. You were ready to change your ways, and staying with the kind redhead was far more appealing than a criminal organization. Besides, it’s not like any of them would dare to challenge Natasha when she stole you for herself. The rest was history; you both found solace in each other’s presence, filling in each other’s mission pieces.

The passing of time allowed you an opportunity to change as a person, to grow and move beyond your past criminal ways. The New Year was an important landmark as it meant you were not only another year forward from your rough past, but given yet another chance to start cleaner than before. Natasha understood this more than you knew, and made it a goal to support you in the face of a fresh start. Though this winter storm posed risk for Natasha’s presence at New Years.

A few other members of the team were still in New York, having been lucky enough to escape the fate of getting selected for the mission. Maybe they knew just how anxious you’d be, because five days after Natasha left, an Avenger appeared right on cue with a knock on your door. You stood from your cozy spot on the couch, looking through the peep hole to find a disheveled looking Steve in the hallway.

“Did you fall into an icy lake before coming up here?” You questioned as he shed his damp winter coat. He was carrying a few bags of groceries, some of your favorite snacks sitting on top. Natasha definitely texted him.

“There’s been three inches of snowfall in the last few hours. I think the universe is trying to bury us in snow.” Steve laughed, hanging his coat up by the door. He easily took notice of the nest you crafted on the couch, nearly every blanket in the house somehow piled around a you-shaped hole in the center. His silence told you he was worried—after all, he knew about the importance of the New Year for you.

“Any word on Natasha?” Although you had texted her every day, her responses only included so many details. Sometimes Nat herself didn’t even know when she’d be returning. Steve likely came from the compound, there was always a chance he knew more than you did.

But he shook his head, making you exhale disappointedly. “Nothing yet.” Steve shot you a sympathetic smile.

“Well, thanks for the groceries anyways.” You shrugged, eyeing the bags full of treats you would rather share with Natasha than enjoy on your own.

“Anytime,” Steve nodded, grabbing his now slightly less damp coat. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” You only nodded silently in response, watching as he left. Then you were alone, just like before. The truth was, you wouldn’t call anyone if you needed anything. The only person you wanted to call was Natasha, and she wasn’t available. So the only remaining option is to isolate yourself. Nat knew that was what you would resort to, which is why she likely asked Steve to stop by with something to cheer you up. A sweet gesture, but you wished it made you even the slightest bit better. Nothing could compare to the presence of Natasha.

—————

Fast asleep on the couch, tangled between five blankets all covering the worn cushions; the fire stoked and raging, offering even more warmth in contrast to the icy layer of blue just outside the window. You had stayed up for hours, just in case Nat came home in time for the New Year only a few hours away—but with your lack of sleep from previous nights spent awake, you didn’t stand a chance. By 9:00pm, you were out cold. Not even the lock clicking on the front door caused you to stir.

An exhausted redhead walked in, duffel bag landing softly on the table beside the raided bags of groceries you were too tired to put away. She smiled at the various open snacks, but nothing could compare to the grin spread across her face when she noticed you on the couch. All bundled up, your worried expression fallen in your sleeping state—yet Natasha didn’t have to see you in person to know how worried you were.

She pushed a few blankets aside, sitting next to you as she admired the peaceful apartment she was lucky enough to return to. Softly brushing stray hair out of your face, she hoped it would cause you to stir. “Hi my love.” You opened your eyes to red hair illuminated by the firelight. She looked ethereal, almost unreal. More than anything, you were grateful to see her.

“You’re back,” You exclaimed tiredly, hands softly attempting to pull her close. She nods with a chuckle, lying down behind you so she can wrap her arms around you fully. “Happy new year.” You spoke softly.

“Happy new year.” She whispered back into your ear. In the solace of each other’s arms, you both knew this year would be even better than the last. With each fresh start, you would always be beside Natasha. No matter how much you grew or who you became, the two of you would face it all together.

[sthilarions]

Charles almost gets killed by a torture hex. Pain is the most effective way to kill a ghost, and Charles is so so strong but not built for suffering like Edwin is, and Charles is already fading when Edwin finally finds the right counter-spell and drags him back to solidity.

Two days later, Charles gets almost torn in half by a giant monster, and Edwin knits him back together with giggling ringing in his ears and green light at the corners of his vision. Edwin’s hands dig into Charles’s wounds and pull Charles back together with a combination of magic and sheer force of will and every twitch of Edwin’s fingers drags tortured sounds out of Charles’s mouth, and it’s right about when Edwin pulls the last bit of skin together and Charles screams that Edwin thinks please, God, Despair, Death, whoever is there, whoever cares, let me take his pain, I’d take all of his pain to never have him hurt again.

It’s another day after that, when he’s reading through a book of healing spells to find a way to make sure this never happens again, that he gets an idea.

It’s another week, full of research and muttering and scribbled runes, before he comes to Charles with what is, as far as Charles knows, a pretty standard request. “I’ve found another protection spell for you. Stand there - to your left a little - good. It can’t stop you from getting injured, but it will take most or all of the pain of the injuries.”

“Oh, wow, that’s brills, mate! I could fight way better like that. I mean, pain is almost all ghost injuries are, anyway, yeah? That’s amazing!”

Edwin casts the spell, handwritten across several sheets of paper, and the glow as it sets in to Charles’s skin blanks out his vision long enough that he doesn’t see Edwin’s skin flush golden, too.

Edwin declines Charles’s suggestion to test the spell outside of combat, so Charles is still a little unsure for the first fight, but when he gets slashed with a cat-claw blade and feels absolutely nothing, he looks down at himself, grins almost maniacally, and wades back into the fight like he’s unstoppable.

He does seem to be, in fact. He fights like Superman, all but invulnerable, and Edwin says his combat efficiency has increased over 30 percent. He throws himself at monsters and ghosts and demons and takes them down with barely a twinge, no matter how hard they hit.

Edwin’s taken to standing further back than he used to in fights, which Charles figures is because the fights are getting into melee more than they used to.

They’re fighting some bastard with a hellwhip, all fire and iron barbs, when the first thing goes wrong. Charles gets hit, and he feels the twinge that’s all he gets from the worst hits now, but through the twinge he hears Edwin gasp.

He turns to Edwin and the whip hits him square in the back as he turns, and Edwin lets out a strangled groan.

Edwin seems to realize Charles is too distracted to do his job, because he dispatches the whippy bastard with a spell, and Charles is to him in a moment. But Edwin snaps and brushes him off and demands to tend to Charles’s injuries, because not hurting doesn’t mean they can’t be dangerous. As he tends to the wounds, Edwin’s breath keeps hitching, and Charles can’t get him to say why.

A week later and Charles gets hit with that same damn torture hex, because apparently they didn’t do a good enough job of defeating that wizard the first time. And he thinks for a second that this might be what finally breaks through Edwin’s protection spell, but it’s still only a twinge, albeit the harshest one yet - but Edwin lets out a suffocated yelp from behind him.

Charles starts to turn, and the wizard looks frustrated, and throws the hex at Charles again. And Edwin goes down to his knees.

And the wizard hexes Charles again, and Edwin curls forward, his breath in quiet pants that for a second are the focus of Charles’s entire world.

Charles puts some things together very, very quickly, and then before the wizard can try another spell, his head’s rolling on the floor.

—

Edwin has never seen Charles this angry at anyone, not in the thirty-one years they’ve been together. He had never imagined that Charles could possibly be this angry at him.

—

Charles screams at Edwin for hours, tears dripping down his face and vanishing before they hit his chest.

He pauses every hour or so and demands Edwin take off the fucking “protection spell” right fucking now, and every time Edwin refuses, and Charles starts yelling again.

Normally crying makes Charles’s throat hurt, one of the few bits of quotidian pain that stuck with him to ghost-hood. He doesn’t notice that it isn’t hurting now until a bit after sunrise, when Edwin refuses again, and Charles notices his voice is hoarse and tight.

Charles stops.

He turns away.

“No more cases, Edwin.”

“What?”

“I am not working on any cases, I am not doing anything that could put either of us in danger, until this spell is off.”

“You can’t - “

“I’ll see you later, Edwin.”

Charles walks out of the office, and Edwin stands staring after him.

—

It takes a month. A month of Charles spending time out of the office, and chilly silences, and Edwin trying to make arguments for his position and only getting a few words in before Charles is out the door.

Charles gets back, one day, to see Edwin sitting on the floor of the closet, holding a box of Cluedo in his lap, which they haven’t used since Charles found out.

“I’ll take it off.” Edwin’s looking down at the box, refusing to meet Charles’s eyes. Charles nods.

It doesn’t take very long for Edwin to work the counter-spell, and Charles immediately tests it, grabs for the first magical weapon in his bag and presses it against his hand. It hurts, and he presses harder until there’s a drop of blood and it’s accompanied by just as much sharp sting as it should be.

Edwin doesn’t say anything about Charles believing Edwin might be tricking him, because Charles isn’t wrong to, because he had, before. And if Charles doesn’t trust him anymore, that’s his right.

Charles sighs, looking down at his hand, then looks up at Edwin. “If you ever break my trust like that again, I’ll - “ he breaks off and looks back down. He sighs again.

“I won’t do anything. I’ll forgive you, because I’ll always forgive you, Edwin. But - please, please, please never do anything like that again, I can’t take it.”

Charles is crying, and his throat hurts.

Edwin’s voice is hoarse too, as he promises, never, never again.

And Edwin’s far too far away, Charles thinks. He has been for the last month. For longer, pulling far away during fights and after them - but it’s best not to think about that. With his mind resolutely on the present, Charles steps over the space between them and pulls Edwin into his arms.

“Let’s play some Cluedo, yeah?”

[paigesbasketball]

if requests are open can we have shadow the hedgehog x reader for when the reader is needed comfort. Like bad days, crying, panic etc?

Needed Comfort

Shadow the hedgehog x reader (just imagine the middle picture is you) Warnings: None!

The clock had ticked past midnight, but it was as if time itself had stopped in your little corner of the world. The glow of your laptop screen was the only light in the room, flickering as your eyes desperately tried to focus on the endless list of tasks that needed your attention. Every email, every deadline, every responsibility seemed to merge into a blur of frustration. You could feel the weight of it all pressing on your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Your fingers, trembling slightly, moved across the keyboard, but each keystroke felt like it took all your energy. Just one more task, you thought. If I finish this, I can finally relax. But no matter how much you worked, there was always another task waiting, another problem that demanded your attention.

The tears had started before you could stop them. One drop, then another, until the steady stream of emotion blurred your vision, making it impossible to focus. You wiped your eyes quickly, but it didn't help. The pressure kept building, and you felt it in every part of your body.

I can’t stop now. I can’t.

You heard a sound at the door, a soft, deliberate knock, but you barely registered it through the fog of your thoughts. You didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop.

"[Y/N]?" came a familiar voice. A deep, calm voice — Shadow’s voice.

You didn’t look up, refusing to acknowledge him. If you stopped now, the weight of everything would come crashing down on you, and you weren’t ready to face that yet. You couldn’t. Not when there was still so much to do.

"I’m fine," you muttered, your voice tight, barely a whisper. "Just… finishing something."

Shadow didn’t buy it. You could hear him step closer, the sound of his boots against the floor steady, purposeful. He knew you too well to let you push him away. You heard him stop right behind you, his shadow looming large in the dim light. You kept your gaze fixed on the screen, your fingers moving mechanically over the keys.

"Enough," Shadow’s voice broke through the fog of your thoughts. It was calm but firm. "You’ve been at this for hours. You need to rest."

You shook your head, refusing to meet his eyes. "I can’t. I have too much left to do. I’ll rest later."

There was a pause, a moment of silence. You knew that Shadow wasn’t one to give up easily, especially when it came to you. But you were stubborn, too, and tonight, you didn’t have the strength to fight him.

He reached over, his gloved hand gently but decisively taking hold of your laptop. "No more work tonight," he said, his voice still soft, yet commanding. "You’ve pushed yourself too far."

Before you could protest, Shadow closed the laptop with a swift motion, the click of it snapping shut cutting through the tension in the room. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with disbelief.

"No! I—" you started, but your words were swallowed by the weight of everything you’d been holding in. The tears began to well up again, this time with the force of exhaustion, frustration, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

Shadow’s expression softened, but there was no hesitation in his actions. Without a word, he leaned down, his strong arms carefully lifting you out of your chair, cradling you close to his chest. You were too tired to resist, the exhaustion from the long hours of work finally catching up to you. The weight in your chest began to loosen slightly, but the emotional toll was still heavy.

And then, just as you were beginning to drift off, Shadow’s voice broke through the quiet again.

"I finished my paperwork for G.U.N.," he said, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked down at you. "Now, it’s my turn to take care of you."

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to relax fully, letting the exhaustion overtake you. Shadow’s calm presence, his unwavering support, was enough to give you the peace you desperately needed.

Without another word, he settled beside you on the bed, his arm slipping around you as you nestled against his chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat was a comfort, a lullaby that soothed your racing thoughts. The storm inside your head had finally quieted, and all that remained was the safe, steady rhythm of Shadow's breathing as he held you close.

And in that moment, with Shadow there beside you, the world could wait. The work, the pressure, the deadlines — they were all still there, but you didn’t have to face them alone. You had Shadow, and that was enough.

As you closed your eyes, finally allowing yourself to rest, you knew that tomorrow would come with its challenges, but for now, you could find solace in his arms. And in the quiet of the night, you allowed yourself to just breathe, feeling the comfort of knowing that Shadow would always be there, no matter how heavy the world became.

[fear-is-truth]

ok hear me out the evans with reader who has an oral fixation

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans… and your oral fixation.ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ james patrick march‧ kai anderson

a/n: um. idk if u meant the normal kind or the sucking dick kind so i’m assuming it’s the former...

⟣ tags ‧ nsfw for kai | gn! reader

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

he’d think it’s kind of endearing, like when you absentmindedly chew on pens or nibble your fingers while lost in thought.

might lowkey encourage it because he loves seeing you relaxed or focused. he’d think it’s cute when you’re twirling a straw between your lips or biting the corner of a snack wrapper.

boy has a filthy mind and he would imagine the beautiful possibilities with your oral fixation.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit would be so understanding and sweet about it, no judgment at all. he’d notice your little habits early on and immediately start thinking of ways to help.

he’d carry around toothpicks, gum, or hard candy in his pocket, just for you.

whenever you’re chewing on something (like your nails or a pen), he’d gently take it from you. “don’t wanna see you hurt yourself, y’know?”

would even try to incorporate your fixation into little sweet gestures. like, he’d hand you a lollipop and say, “thought of you when i saw this at the store.”

he’d never call it weird or make you feel bad; instead, he’d see it as one of those unique little things that make you you.

if you’re playing with his fingers or nibbling on his shirt collar absentmindedly, he’d just smile and let you. “you’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

would think your oral fixation is the cutest thing ever. he wouldn’t even question it; he’d just roll with it like the golden retriever boyfriend he is.

kyle would quietly watch out for signs that you’re stressed or anxious, knowing your fixation might be a coping mechanism. he’d always be ready to distract or comfort you when needed.

if you chew on his hoodie strings, he’d chuckle softly and let you. even if it means walking around with damp hoodie ties afterward.

if he notices you fiddling with random objects to chew on, he’d gently offer alternatives. “here, try this instead,” handing you a piece of gum.

he’d probably start carrying around little things like gummy candy or mints just for you.

he’s just the kind of guy who sees your quirks as something to adore, not fix.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

james would initially raise an eyebrow at your oral fixation, finding it a bit unladylike, but the fact that it’s you doing it makes him oddly charmed. “my dear, such habits are unbecoming, yet somehow you make them… endearing.”

because he’s a world-class simp for you.

he’d absolutely try to redirect the habit into something more “sophisticated.” he’d offer you cigars, not because he expects you to actually smoke them but because it amuses him.

he’d also introduce you to those elegant, vintage cigarette holders—the long, fancy ones used by old hollywood starlets.

would keep an assortment of expensive hard candies or licorice in crystal jars around the hotel just for you.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would probably shame you about your oral fixation, calling it “childish” or “immature,” “what are you, a teething infant?”

if he’s truly invested in you, he’d dive into the psychology of it, trying to figure out why you do it via pinky power. ask evasive questions.

there’s no way he’d let you chew on his hoodie strings.

instead, he’d offer something that benefits him. “you need something to suck on? here,” he’d say, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth with a knowing smirk.

would lowkey enjoy the control of indulging your fixation on his terms. he’d use that as an excuse to throat-train you. work on that gag reflex of yours.

at the end of the day, he’d see your oral fixation as something to manipulate, explore, and (occasionally) accommodate.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[sugarikiz]

— 𝑖𝑖. TOO LATE TO SAY SORRY

𝑖n which . . . your boyfriend messed up really bad , and he has to make up with you somehow.

─── ♡ 𝓅airing . . . bf! heeseung x 𝑓. reader >< 𝓌arnings . . . angst + est. relationship + crying + kissing . 𝓌c 0.63k .

✦

注記 ─── happy first hee fic !! first time writing for him, and it just had to be angst…

NOT PROOFREAD, SORRY FOR ANY ERRORS

lee heeseung; the love of your life. the constant back hugs and the never-relenting compliments all felt like a dream to you. the way he loved you was so much more special other person ever had before, and you felt so happy that you found someone like him in your life.

today, the constant bickering and tension you had between the two of you was different than any kind of disagreement you had ever had. it slowly escalated, both of your tempers rising till your known to be sweet boyfriend lashed out on you.

“you never do anything right, you act like a little child and you never actually try to see how i feel!”

the second those words left heeseung’s mouth, you felt your world shatter. is that really how he felt after all these years of being together?

the moment the man realised what he said, he instantly started regretting it, beating himself up inside. you could have seen the guilt seep into his eyes if you tried, but the way your vision hazed up didn’t let you.

“baby, I-” you shook your head, stopping him from speaking any more. after a few moments of collecting yourself — tears still visible in the corners of your eyes and on the apples of your cheeks — you spoke.

“don’t. don’t apologise for saying what you mean, heeseung.” heeseung? this was the first time in years you ever called him that; it was always ‘hee’ or ‘seungie’ or ‘baby’ or something of the sorts.

never in his two years of dating you had you called him that, so when it fell off your lips, he knew he’d messed up. big time.

you turned on your heel, walking away into your shared bedroom. he could hear the faint click of a lock and small sobs from the other side, but he knew that he couldn’t get you to talk to him, or even get you to open the door before you calmed down a bit.

── .✦

after about a half hour, he couldn’t take it anymore. he had to at least try to get you to unlock the door.

“y/n?” he knocked softly on the door, his tone soft; knowing how sensitive you could be to words. he knew he made a mistake by saying what he did, and he wanted you to know that too.

he heard a small sniffle come from the other end of the door, and sounds of shuffling footsteps. he breathed out a small sigh of relief when he heard your voice, but not so much at your words “what do you want?” you ask, your tone hurt.

he let out a small sigh, preparing himself for what he was about to say. “look, baby, im so sorry for what I said. I didn’t know what I was saying in my frustration, and i took it out on you.” he looked up when he heard the lock click and the door swing open slightly.

you could hear the guilt and remorse for what he said in his voice, and it melted you. it was taking all you had in you not to just kiss the pout off his lips, but you tried to hold onto your urges for a moment.

“you know you hurt me, right?”

he nodded, finally daring to meet your gaze. that was it, that was your breaking point. the way his bambi eyes were a bit bigger and the way his lips contracted into a small pout we’re just too cute for you to not kiss him then and there.

you pulled him towards you by wrapping your arms around his neck and crashed your lips onto his, all your anger and resentment towards him gone in a matter of seconds.

he was a bit taken aback, but still melted into the kiss quickly, kissing you back with the same passion you gave him.

he pulled away after a moment, a smirk forming on his lips. “still mad?”

“hmm, I think one more kiss should do the trick” you giggled, pulling him in again…

[toastnotonfire]

Show Me Yours.

"All the bad dreams that you hide

Show me yours, I'll show you mine"

-Phoebe Bridgers

pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

wordcount: 1453

Summary: You remember the night Daryl showed you his scars for the first time, while you were patching him up from a failed supply run.

A/N: guys i am so sleep deprived and swamped with work and coursework but i really wanted to get back into writing for the new year and revive my page, so sorry if this is absolute dogshit I honestly cant tell!! As always my asks are open and any spelling errors or critiques pls let me know! Happy New Year Lovelies!!

The archer was simply not what many people had preemptively assumed. He shouldn't be defined by his exterior or the way he lashed out when threatened, like a wild and dangerous wolf caught in a snare, because it's simply just not him. You know that better than anyone else.

You remember the night he dropped his walls to you, back at the prison, which felt like a lifetime ago; it might as well be.

It was storming badly outside; the wind howled and thrashed against the prison walls loudly, drowning out the sounds of walkers ravenous growls, yet the noise couldn't drown out your incessant worrying for the archer who had set out earlier that very day.

The rain seemed to pick up in momentum every time your brain screamed the different possibilities to itself. You couldn't sleep. You wouldn't until you knew he was safe and sound.

Some god might have been listening that night, he might have taken pity on your poor mortal soul for all that you'd lost, maybe the higher power who sent him back to you knew you'd need him yet. The sound of the large prison gates being pulled open was the sweetest music to your ears.

You remember racing out towards the gates to greet him, your joy faltering slightly as you took in his sorry state, soaked to the bone from the unrelenting rain and some gashes that decorated his cheek and arms, but alive nonetheless. Breathing is all you can ask for in this unforgiving new world. You know that now, more than ever.

That night you took him up to your room, the small cell in the furthest corner, which you claimed the first night you all fought your way into this block, although you didn't actually sleep in it for a good while. The fear overpowering your exhaustion. You can't really remember the cell walls anymore. The memory slipped from your brain slowly the more places you sought refuge in throughout the years.

You had walked him in slowly, closing the curtain behind you to conceal you both behind a screen. It almost gave the illusion of safety, being in a little room like that, secluded from prying eyes.

"Are you hurt badly?" you asked him quietly, grabbing a small towel and filling a bowl with some lukewarm water.

He shook his head from left to right, eyeing you warily as you lowered yourself to sit next to him with the now damp towel, gently dragging it up and down his bare arms to clear the grime away, your movements featherlight as you ghosted over a gash on his arm. A silence laid between you both, heavy but not exactly uncomfortable.

"Where else are you hurt?" you whispered, breaking the fragile silence, Daryl seemed to go ridgid at the question, staring straight ahead, chewing nervously on his bottom lip, a habit you had observed from him since way back at the quarry.

After a few long seconds in silence Daryl gently makes a move, removing the soaked leather vest, which fell to the ground with a wet plop, and slowly unbuttoning his dark grey shirt to reveal his back to you.

You held back a shocked gasp as you took in his back, long deep scars stretched across his back, colouring him in deep purples and reds. The scars have ragged and angry edges, and your body nearly ached at seeing them, mirroring his own pain in yourself. There was a new cluster of gashes where he must have skinned his back falling today. You gently shook yourself for pausing so long and sprung back into tending to his wounds. Thinking better than to acknowledge the blatant vulnerability in the moment for fear of scaring him off.

You reached out slowly to press the damp towel to his back, wishing desperately to somehow absorb the years of pain from his body, to take it into yourself and erase this past from him. However, as much as you wanted it to be possible, it wasn't. So you had to make do with easing the pain of his newest wounds, hoping to god you could convey the affection you held for him.

You cleaned his wounds with the utmost care that night, gentle movements that ensured the sting of the antiseptic was numbed, as you contemplated breaking the long, vulnerable silence.

"Daryl?" you had whispered attentively, the end of his name lilting up into a slight question. You weren't exactly sure what you were going to say yet.

"It's fine" He replied quickly, practically cutting you off, his tone gruff and almost defensive.

"it's not... it doesn't have to be fine" You whisper back, a small correction, desperately wanting, needing him to know that you cared.

The silence afterwards was long and painful, you were scared to move in case he snapped out of it, snatched his shirt back and left. in case he never spoke to you again after this, in case you pushed too far, crossed some line, some barrier he had.

What happened next was what you had least expected at the time. His shoulders, imperceptibly, started to tremble. it was such a slight movement that you could have missed it had you not been paying such close careful attention to the man before you.

You lay your hand carefully on his shoulder, offering him the slightest physical reassurance, the movement unsure and hesitant. You gave him space and time to flinch away, to turn sharply and tell you off before leaving.

But he didn't go. He didn't snap or shout or push or shove.

You kept your hand steady on the archer's back, slowly leaning forward to wrap your arms around him carefully, slow and steady in a deliberate effort not to startle him. After nearly a year in his company you had learned that Daryl startled easily, lashed out quick, and now you were beginning to understand the root cause. You cursed yourself for not seeing the signs sooner, for resenting his attitude in those first months, for arguing when he pushed you away.

It made sense now, and it broke your heart.

He let out a broken, shaky sigh as your arms wrapped around him, his breaths coming faster and irregularly as he finally let every defense crumble. In that moment nothing could have pulled you away from him, nothing at all. You were consumed by the need to comfort him, to soothe his aches and pains, to take the unbearable weight off of his shoulders.

After what felt like an eternity, and simultaneously not nearly long enough, the archer finally spoke.

“S’a hell of an ugly sight” He mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically broken, soft.

“No. no it's not… it… you could never be.” You whispered back, your voice hushed and gentle. You pulled back, gently beckoning him to turn to face you, desperate to tell him to his face.

“You're perfect, scars and all.” you whispered, grabbing his face up in both hands, urging him to believe, to understand. He just stared back stunned, his eyes searching yours long and hard. For a fleeting moment you were worried you had once again overstepped, that he would push you away and leave, running from you and the prison walls. 

All doubt left your mind when he leaned forward, the horrific world surrounding you was suddenly forgotten as his lips met yours in a soft, gentle manner. It caught you off guard before you softened against him, giving in to the magnetic pull between you both. The world turned off around you, the horrific, awful things you'd seen, and done, together became irrelevant as he pulled you in. Your hands stayed cupped around his jaw as your other went to tangle in the hair as the back of his neck. 

When he finally broke the kiss, he leaned back to give you a long, meaningful look, his eyes taking in your facial features, your short and rapid breaths mingling with one anothers in the inches between both your faces. 

The storm raged on outside the prison walls, but the threat that night had been swiftly forgotten as you curled up in the Archers arms, so naturally it was as if you had been doing it your whole life. 

That night will never leave your mind even now, when youre looking at him from across the room in your apartment in the commonwealth, watching him chasing RJ about the house as laughter fills the air, or when you're standing in the doorway, listening to him read to Judith.

It was the night he dropped his guard, the night he was brave enough to rip down the walls he had built to keep you out. The night he became yours. 

[fourthavecafe]

Hiii, fic idea. Gojo lovesss to tickle the reader and the reader has always implied (even lied) that their thighs are most ticklish until gojo finds out their navel is actually most ticklish. Punishment tickles follow…. (Tickle spots were just examples, feel free to change) absolutely love your writing 😁

what happens when you lie to satoru about your ticklish spot

You should have known better. Telling Satoru that your thighs were your most ticklish spot? A rookie move.

It had worked for a while, of course. He’d teased you mercilessly about it but never crossed the line. However, somehow, the universe had betrayed you.

Or rather, Gojo Satoru’s insatiable curiosity and knack for reading you like an open book had betrayed you.

And now here you were, pinned beneath him on the couch, arms trapped above your head by one of his hands. His weight on your hips kept you from squirming away. Worst of all, the smugness radiating from his stupidly perfect face was enough to make you want to scream.

“Soo” he drawled, his free hand hovering ominously over your stomach, fingers twitching in anticipation. “Turns out my sweet, innocent little baby has been lying to me all this time.”

You glared up at him, cheeks already flushed. “It’s not that serious, Satoru.”

“Not that serious?” His eyebrows shot up, his mouth pulling into a wide, wicked grin. “You lied to me about your ticklish spot. That’s, like, the ultimate betrayal of trust in a relationship.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting nonchalance despite your heart hammering in your chest. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Oh, I’ll show you dramatic” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt that sent a shiver down your spine. “You thought you could outsmart the strongest, huh? Well, now the strongest knows your real weakness,your precious little bellybutton.”

Your stomach tensed instinctively as his fingers descended. “Satoru, wait—”

Too late.

The second his fingers made contact, wiggling mercilessly against the sensitive dip of your bellybutton, you exploded into uncontrollable laughter. Your legs kicked out helplessly and you twisted as much as you could but he had you completely immobilized.

“Aw, poor baby” he cooed, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Is it too much? Does it tickle too much?”

“Satoru!” you gasped between fits of laughter, tears already gathering at the corners of your eyes. “Stop please!”

“Stop?” he echoed, tilting his head like he was genuinely considering it. “Hmm, nah. Not when you’re laughing this hard. This is gold.”

He didn’t just stop at tickling your bellybutton. Oh, no. His fingers moved to lightly trace along the edges of your hips, skimming over the soft skin there before returning to the spot that made you laugh the hardest. His grin only widened as your laughter turned into breathless squeals.

“You should’ve seen your face when I figured it out” he teased, his tone infuriatingly smug. “You got all wide-eyed, like, ‘Oh no, he knows!’ Cute. Really cute.”

“I—hate—you!” you managed to sputter, though the breathless laughter undercut any real venom in your words.

“Hate me? Ouch, sweetheart, that cuts deep” he said, fake pouting. “But, you know, actions speak louder than words and judging by how you’re squirming under me, I’d say you love this.”

“I do not!” you shouted, your voice cracking on the last syllable as his fingers drilled into your bellybutton again.

“Sure you don’t” he replied with a wink. “But don’t worry. I’ll keep going until you’re ready to admit I’m your favorite person in the whole wide world.”

“You’re—not—my—favorite!” you gasped, your body arching in a desperate attempt to escape his relentless attack.

“Wow, the denial.” He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “Guess I’ll just have to work harder.”

He shifted slightly and you thought for one blissful second that he might let up. But instead, he leaned down until his face was right above yours, his bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You know what I love about this?” he murmured, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Your bellybutton’s like a little button and every time I press it…” He poked the spot, earning another squeal from you. “You laugh like the adorable little thing you are.”

“Satoru!” you cried, both mortified and breathless from laughter.

“Say it” he teased, his fingers dancing along your sides before diving back to your bellybutton. “Say I’m your favorite.”

“Never!”

His grin turned downright devilish. “Wrong answer.”

What followed was pure torture. He used every trick in the book—light, feathery touches that sent shivers down your spine; relentless circles that made your laughter turn silent; and even little pokes here and there just to keep you guessing. He didn’t stop, not even when tears of laughter streaked down your cheeks.

“Okay—okay!” you finally gasped, your voice hoarse from laughing. “You’re my favorite!”

He paused, his fingers hovering just above your skin. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it.”

“You’re my favorite!” you repeated, glaring up at him despite your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair.

“That’s better” he said, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Harder than your big head” you shot back, your sass returning now that you could breathe again.

His grin widened. “Oh, look who’s getting feisty again. Careful, sweetheart or I might have to go for round two.

“You wouldn’t dare” you said, narrowing your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, his hand inching back toward your stomach.

“Don’t even think about it” you warned.

“Too late” he replied, his fingers diving in for another quick tickle that had you squealing all over again.

“You’re insufferable!” you cried, swatting at him as he finally released your arms and flopped onto his back beside you.

“And you’re adorable” he countered, grinning as he pulled you into his chest. “Seriously, though, your laugh is the best thing ever. I might have to make this a regular thing.”

“Over my dead body” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Love you too, sweetheart” he said, his voice full of amusement.

You groaned, burying your face in his chest to hide your blush. Dealing with Gojo was exhausting but you couldn’t imagine life without him.