#and like i’m not blaming them it’s for their best

[kthologue]

operation: get over your childhood crush! — gojo satoru

synopsis. in an attempt to move on from your childhood best friend—who definitely doesn’t see you the way you want—you hatch a series of plans to help you get over him. it doesn't go as planned.

contents. hurt/comfort, fluff, nerd!gojo, college au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, unreliable narrator, miscommunication, insecurity, dorky references bc u make him go dumb and digimon inaccuracies probably

notes. i did not proofread this monster!! enjoy :P

The hum of the air conditioning fills the room as night settles in, the light from Satoru’s bedside lamp casting a soft glow over his mess of a room. You’re both sprawled out across his bed, limbs entangled like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Because, for the two of you, it is.

Satoru’s Nintendo Switch is balanced on his stomach, hands lazily tapping away as his little Digimon charges into battle on screen. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked around his and a blanket thrown haphazardly across you both. The half-abandoned textbooks sit at the edge of the mattress, tragically ignored. Another study session: failed. Not that Satoru needed it. He passed everything with flying colors. It was more of an excuse for you to come over.

“Your room still smells like that cheap vanilla air freshener,” you mumble, nose scrunching.

“That’s because you bought it,” he replies without looking up, thumb expertly guiding his character through an attack.

“Because your room would end up stinking with sweat and whatever freaky stuff you do in here.”

“Hey!” He whines. “I shower everyday and you know it. The stink is all you. Have you ever sniffed yourself, princess?”

You swat at his stomach, and he lets out a dramatic grunt. “Rude. I brought that candle to add ambiance.”

“Ah yes,” he deadpans, “nothing like artificial sugar scent.’”

You snort, settling your head back down on his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie soft beneath your cheek. There’s a long pause before you say, “You know, if we fail our exams, I’m blaming your Digimon addiction.”

He grins. “I’m raising digital warriors, thank you very much. And I’ve never failed an exam, don’t wound me now!”

“They look like mutant toddlers with attitude problems.”

He gasps, clutching his heart. “They’re champions, you monster.”

You laugh, letting the sound dissolve into something quieter as your fingers absentmindedly trace a pattern into the blanket. His hand rests near yours. Not holding it. Not not holding it.

His glasses are tilted again. Of course.

You reach up and straighten them with a sigh. “Honestly, you’d be lost without me.”

“Not true.” He says it reflexively, then pauses. His voice softens. “Okay, maybe. I’d probably just let them slide down until I walked into a wall.”

You smile faintly. “And there’d be no one there to patch you up.”

“Tragic,” he agrees. “Would bleed out on the floor, probably.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re so bossy,” he counters, shooting you a sideways look. 

“Admit it,” he says, voice full of faux-smugness, “you’d miss me if I died tragically and left you all alone.”

You hesitate for a second too long before mumbling, “Don’t joke about that.”

It’s quiet. The game music loops in the background as his Digimon wins the battle with a triumphant fanfare.

He doesn’t say anything.

You suddenly feel too warm under the blanket. The joke had been harmless, stupid even.

But something inside you twists, the same something that’s been unraveling lately every time he mentions another girl.

Another type. That’s not you.

“You know,” you say slowly, eyes peeling from the screen to his phone, which lights up with a notification, revealing one of his favorite gravure model’s latest issues as its wallpaper. “You could probably date any girl you wanted. Why do you partake in freak stuff like this? It’s anti-girl repellent.”

He makes a noncommittal sound. “Doubt it.”

“I don’t. You’ve got that whole genius-who-doesn’t-realize-he’s-hot thing going on.”

He glances at you, skeptical. “Is that… a thing?”

“It is. Annoying, but effective. Girls love it.”

He hums, clearly amused, cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, good to know I have options.”

You try to laugh, but it catches in your throat.

You shouldn’t ask. You really shouldn’t.

But you’re lying in his bed. Wrapped up in him like you belong here. And some part of you aches to know the answer.

So you pretend it’s a joke. You tilt your head against his shoulder, voice airy, teasing. “Hey, be honest—do you think I’m cute?”

He goes still.

His hand tightens slightly on the Switch. You think you’ve pushed too far, so you try to backpedal before he can respond.

“Not like… like that,” you say quickly. “I just meant, like, in general. Compared to those girls you’re into. Say, Waka Inoue. You know, long legs, shiny hair, cute face?”

His jaw tightens.

You’re still trying to play it off. “I mean, I’m not fishing for compliments. I just—was wondering. Curiosity. Science.”

He finally turns to look at you.

His gaze lingers. And for the first time all night, he’s not smiling.

You feel your breath stutter in your throat underneath his gaze.

Then he shrugs.

“…Nah.”

It slices through the air with quiet finality.

Your heart drops. You don’t let it show. Not fully. But it must flicker in your face, because he quickly looks away.

You laugh. It sounds forced.

“Yeah, that’s fair. I mean, I wasn’t expecting a yes or anything.”

He’s silent.

You shift away from him slightly, giving him space. “I should head home soon. We didn’t really get any studying done, anyway.”

“It’s late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Usually, you’d accept his offer with a smile, but you really wanted to go home and wallow in your own self pity.

“It’s fine, I have something to do anyway,” the lie slips out of your mouth easily as you begin to pack your things.

And you miss the way he watches you—guilt in his eyes, frustration on his tongue. 

You knew it was time. Ten years of hopeless, fruitless pining had done enough damage to your heart.

It had started the day your parents moved next door. Satoru had been the loud, obnoxious, too-pretty-for-his-own-good boy on the playground who shoved candy in your hand and asked if you wanted to be friends.

You’d been doomed since day one.

And to make things worse, you’d both gotten into Japan’s most competitive university—together. Same neighborhood. Same school. Same train route. You weren’t just stuck with him. You were haunted.

But you were young. And hot. And allegedly in your prime. You couldn’t keep orbiting around a guy who still thought microwave gyoza was a food group and used your shampoo because it “smelled like you, so why not?”

You were sipping coffee with your two closest friends, and today’s topic was—unfortunately—your love life.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve been stuck on Gojo for this long,” Utahime said, disgusted, as she stirred her latte like it personally offended her. “You could do so much better.”

“It was kind of cute in high school,” Shoko added “but now it’s just sad.”

You sighed, blowing on your drink. “I know, okay? It’s not like I haven’t tried. But he’s literally the only guy I’ve ever been close to. I don’t even talk to guys besides him.”

“That’s because he’s been gatekeeping you since the two of you met,” Utahime said flatly. “I swear, every time someone so much as glanced at you, he pulled that overprotective act.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t sound like ’Toru…”

Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look. One of those knowing glances.

Utahime cleared her throat. “It doesn’t matter! What matters is you are hot. You’ve got the face, the body, the grades, the personality. You just need the confidence.”

You peeked up at her, unsure. “You really think so?”

Utahime leaned forward, smirking like she’d just won a war. “I know so. And that’s why I’ve come up with a plan.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A plan?”

She slammed her hands down on the table, eyes alight. “Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru.”

You blinked. “That’s… a long title.”

Shoko blew a slow stream of smoke. “It’s either this or pine until you die and haunt him as a love-sick ghost.”

You stared into your cup, sighing. “Fine. I’m in. What’s step one?”

Utahime grinned.

“Whatcha doing?” 

Gojo’s voice drifts lazily over your shoulder, followed by the soft rustle of his hoodie as he leans in. He’s far too close, obnoxiously so, his breath tickling your ear and his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder.

You don’t even glance up. “Studying.”

The two of you are supposed to be studying— finals loom overhead like a guillotine, but as usual, very little academic progress has been made. Mostly because your study partner is a six-foot-something genius who insists on sitting sideways in the booth, long legs tangled in yours under the table like it’s second nature.

He hums, skeptical. “Liar.”

You hum noncommittally, thumbing through the dating app Utahime suggested with vague disinterest. The guys blur together: not tall enough, too cocky, too bland, too not Satoru. One makes a joke suspiciously close to a Gojo classic, and you immediately hit unmatch with a scowl.

“Wait,” Satoru says slowly. “Are you on a dating app?!” He practically yells the last part. Half the cafe turns to glare at the source of the disruption.

You hiss under your breath, mortified, swatting at him. “Keep your voice down, idiot!”

His eyes widen dramatically, hands thrown up like you’ve stabbed him. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re already planning a life with someone named ‘Keita, aspiring DJ and spiritual healer’? I’m wounded.”

“You weren’t supposed to read that far.”

“I’m a speed-reader,” he says with a smug grin. “It’s part of the whole ‘genius’ thing.”

Before you can argue, he snatches your phone with a level of ease that tells you this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He grins like he’s won a prize.

“Satoru!”

“Relax, I’m not texting anyone,” he says, fingers flying across the screen. “Just… optimizing.”

Your heart drops. “What are you typing?”

“Nothing~”

You make a grab for your phone, but he effortlessly leans back, holding it above his head with those ridiculously long limbs. You glare at him from across the table, arm outstretched like a furious cat trying to swat at the moon.

“Give it back!”

“Patience.”

“Gojo Satoru—”

“Okay, okay!” he relents with a dramatic sigh, finally placing your phone face-down on the table like he’s done you a huge favor.

You snatch it up immediately, eyes scanning for damage. No weird messages. No unsolicited likes. No new matches.

“…What did you do?”

“I didn’t message anyone,” he assures, too innocent to be trusted. “I’m not that cruel.”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious.

“But,” he adds with a grin, “I didn’t know you were dating.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, clicking your phone off. “Just… considering it. Trying. It’s not going well.”

“Good.”

The word comes out too fast. Too sharp. And his face doesn’t match the light tone he’s trying to play off.

You raise an eyebrow. “Good?”

He shifts, leaning back in his seat, suddenly very interested in stirring the foam in his overpriced coffee. “I mean, it’s good you’re not settling. You should be picky. Guys are the worst.”

You snort. “You are a guy.”

“Exactly. I know what we’re like.”

You smile despite yourself, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure you think you’re the exception.”

“I know I am,” he says, winking. Then he sobers slightly, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m just… looking out for you.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You wish it was more than just him being protective in that big-brotherly, annoyingly loyal kind of way.

You take a sip of your coffee to cool your nerves. It doesn’t help. The words come out before you can stop them.

“You know with the way things are going… maybe you should just date me at this point.”

Silence.

It’s a joke. Supposed to be. But the second it leaves your lips, it tastes real.

Gojo freezes.

You panic. “I didn’t mean—like, I was just joking—”

But he turns toward you, eyes unreadable behind the fringe of snowy white hair. “Maybe I should.”

You blink.

And then, with infuriating ease, he grins.

“Anyway,” he says quickly, swiping your phone from the table again before you can stop him, “Yuto here looks like the type to ghost you after three dates and a karaoke duet. You can do better.”

You gape at him, completely thrown off, your heart slamming in your chest.

You don’t even notice what he’s done until later—until you get home and open your app to find that your bio has been changed.

Taken. Mentally married to a nerd since birth.

You want to scream.

Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru?

Yeah. Not going great.

Not at all.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to it.

Maybe it was the look in Utahime’s eyes—determined, dangerous, hopeful. Maybe it was Shoko promising she wouldn’t let you walk out of her apartment looking like a clown. Maybe it was the quiet part of you that wanted to see yourself through someone else’s eyes. Someone who wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Today,” Utahime had declared, curling the last strand of your hair like she was threading a spell, “is the first day of your Gojo-less future”

You laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of your skirt. It wasn’t your usual style—not the dewy makeup you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror, not the new haircut that made your eyes look almost too bright, not the blouse that left your shoulders bare in a way that made you feel strangely noticed.

But when you caught your reflection, your heart fluttered. You looked… beautiful.

When you stepped onto campus, the sun was out, the wind teasing the edge of your coat. You spotted him immediately—Gojo, slouched against the wall outside your lecture hall, nose buried in his Switch as he muttered something under his breath about evolving stats and attack modifiers.

He didn’t notice you at first.

Then he looked up.

His game froze mid-battle. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, like someone had unplugged his brain.

“Wha—” he said eloquently. “Wh—what did you do.”

You blinked. “Hi to you too.”

He stared, unabashed. His glasses were slightly crooked, his ears glowing scarlet. He looked like someone had just told him Digimon was real and living in your shoes.

He blinked. “You look like… like you skipped two evolution stages overnight. Straight to Mega. Like if Angewomon fused with… I don’t know, some kind of rare, limited-release goddess-type Digimon that only spawns on a lunar eclipse.”

You blinked.

Utahime’s voice in your head: You’re hot. Unstoppable. He’s going to be speechless.

And Gojo was. But not in the way you wanted.

You tried to laugh. “So I look like a cartoon?”

“A beautiful cartoon,” he said, serious now. “Like the kind of boss character they only show for two frames because animating her costs too much.”

Your heart stuttered. It was the sort of compliment only Gojo could give: clumsy and dorky, yet brilliant in its own way.

But the moment passed.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, sunglasses slipping slightly as he muttered, “You just… you look different. That’s all.”

Different.

Not better. Not prettier.

Just different.

You swallowed. “Yeah, well. Thought I’d try something new.”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” he added quickly, but the words felt unsure. Flimsy.

“I should… use the restroom,” you mumbled, turning before he could say anything else.

In the bathroom, you stared at your reflection. Your lipstick looked too bold now. Your lashes too heavy. Despite the change, you were still painfully you— the you Gojo teased during study sessions, the one he let borrow his hoodie when it rained, the one who sat next to him during endless all-nighters. And maybe that was the problem. You weren’t like those girls on the magazines. 

What you didn’t see, what you couldn’t see, was Gojo still standing outside the lecture hall, staring after you, Switch forgotten, game over screen blinking on the screen.

He didn’t even notice.

“You good, Satoru?” Shoko asked, walking by.

He blinked. “I think I just saw my best friend… and my final boss… and my future wife… all at once.”

Shoko snorted. “You’re a dork.”

Gojo just sighed, shoulders slumping as he muttered, “I’m so doomed.”

It’s a mild Friday evening when you meet him—Kazuya, the guy from your psychology class. He’s polite, articulate, and kind of cute. The kind of guy who asks if you prefer cats or dogs before ordering his drink, and actually listens when you answer.

Utahime and Shoko had insisted you say yes. “A change of pace,” they called it. “You need a baseline. Not every guy is going to be Gojo Satoru.”

Exactly. That was the point.

You’re sipping a matcha latte and nodding along as Kazuya explains his thesis on cognitive development when a very familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

Your stomach drops. You look up, and sure enough—

Satoru.

In all his tall, obnoxiously eye-catching glory, wearing a white t-shirt that was inside out and a grin like he just won the lottery. He's holding a bottle of ramune and standing directly next to your table, like he’s been there the whole time.

You blink. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Thirsty. Wanted a drink.”

“At this café? On this side of campus?”

“Yeah,” he says, tone innocent. “Weird coincidence, huh?”

Kazuya offers a polite smile. “You’re her friend, right? Gojo?”

“Oh, best friend. Lifelong. Practically her shadow.” He plops into the empty seat beside you without asking, casually tossing his ramune onto the table. “What’s your name again? Kaname?”

“…Kazuya.”

“Right, right. I always mix those up. You look like a Kaname, though. Or maybe a Yusuke.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “Satoru—”

But he’s already leaning over, squinting at the book tucked under Kazuya’s arm. “Ooh, Piaget. Bold move. Love that for you.”

Kazuya blinks. “Do you… like developmental theory?”

“I like being correct,” Gojo says with a cheeky smile. “Also, [Name] hates Piaget. She called him ‘the Freud of toddlers’ last semester.”

Kazuya turns to you in mild surprise. “Really?”

“I—I mean, yeah,” you mumble. “Sort of.”

Gojo beams. “Told you.”

Kazuya makes a valiant effort to steer the conversation back to safe, neutral ground.

“So, you mentioned you're interested in behaviorism, right?” he says, offering a gentle smile. “I thought Dr. Takeda's lecture on conditioned responses was kind of fascinating—”

“Oh, riveting,” Satoru cuts in, lounging back in his chair like he owns the café. “Nothing like bonding over Pavlov’s dogs to spark romance. Did she tell you she cried during Inside Out because the depiction of core memories was ‘psychologically resonant’? Real charmer, this one.”

You shoot Satoru a look. “I was twelve!”

Kazuya blinks, trying not to smile. “I actually thought that was pretty moving, too.”

“Wow,” Satoru deadpans. “A match made in neuroscience.”

Kazuya laughs politely and continues, undeterred. “So, uh, any research plans after graduation?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Satoru beats you to it again.

“She used to want to be a vet. Cried when she had to dissect a frog in middle school. Tragic day.”

“Is that true?” Kazuya turns to you, amused now.

“Technically, yes,” you mutter into your drink.

By the time your cup is empty, you realize you’ve laughed more at Satoru’s interjections than you have at anything Kazuya’s said. Not because Kazuya wasn’t interesting—he was. He was calm, thoughtful, well-read, and clearly trying. But next to Satoru, whose entire presence seemed impossible to ignore, Kazuya didn’t stand a chance.

Still, to his credit, Kazuya maintains a steady, if slightly strained, expression as he sets down his cup and finally says, carefully,

“So… is Gojo your boyfriend?”

The question hangs awkwardly.

You and Satoru answer at the same time.

“No,” you say quickly.

“Yes,” he says with a smile.

You both turn to stare at each other.

“I mean—no,” he corrects, waving his hands. “Just a joke. Hah. Obviously.”

Kazuya blinks. “Right.”

You can’t meet either of their eyes. Your drink is finished, your palms are damp, and the café is suddenly too warm, too small. You push back your chair and stand.

“I should go. Early lab meeting tomorrow.” It’s the weakest excuse, but neither of them calls you on it.

Kazuya stands too, polite as ever. “Thanks for meeting up. You seem like a really cool person.” He hesitates, then adds, gently, “I just think maybe you’ve already got someone.”

You freeze. You open your mouth, then close it again. There’s nothing to say.

Outside, the cold air kisses your cheeks like a reminder. It stings a little, or maybe that’s just the confusion burning in your chest.

Satoru’s already waiting for you. Of course he is. He’s leaning against the lamppost, silver hair catching in the wind. But his eyes are downcast, trained on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Neither do you.

You exhale, watching your breath curl white in the air. “You didn’t have to crash it, y’know.”

“I didn’t crash,” he replies without looking at you. “I was invited.”

“By who?”

“Fate. Karma. The gods of poor decision-making.” He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, but it tugs a laugh from you anyway. Stupid, annoying, charming Gojo.

“So,” he says after a beat, nudging your arm gently with his elbow, “how’d it go?”

You glance at him. He still won’t meet your gaze. His lips are pursed like he’s holding back a hundred words and none of them are funny.

“He was nice,” you admit. Despite being rudely interrupted by the white haired idiot beside you.

“Nice is boring,” he mutters, kicking at a loose stone on the pavement.

You laugh, soft and tired. “You’re the worst.”

He finally looks at you then, lips quirking into that smug, too-knowing smile. “But you like me anyway.”

You look away, cheeks burning, heart thudding like a traitor in your chest.

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Despite Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru failing in every imaginable way, things were starting to feel… bearable.

Almost good, even.

Satoru still hovered a little too close, always with that same half-smile like he knew something you didn’t. And maybe, just maybe— his constant sabotage, the teasing, the jealousy, the way he looked at you like he was about to say something important but never did… maybe it all meant something.

You let yourself believe it, just a little.

And that was your first mistake.

It happens quietly, without fanfare or warning. Just a throwaway line between sips of lukewarm coffee and the soft shuffle of paper. You’re both at your usual spot in the library, surrounded by open notebooks and highlighted packets, pretending to study more than you actually are.

You’re halfway through underlining a term in your psychology notes when Satoru leans back in his chair, stretches like a cat, and says—far too casually:

“So, guess who asked me out?”

You hum absentmindedly. “Who?”

“Ayane.”

The name hits you like a slap.

You freeze, highlighter paused mid-sentence. “…Ayane? From the biochem track?”

“Yeah,” he says, practically glowing. “You know her, right? She's in your study group sometimes.”

You do know her. Of course you do. Everyone knows her.

She’s beautiful, with this effortless, clean kind of elegance—long legs, perfect posture, and that quiet, poised confidence that makes professors adore her and guys fall over themselves. The kind of girl who posts one blurry bookshelf photo and still racks up a thousand likes. The kind of girl Gojo always jokes about marrying.

But he’s not joking now. He’s beaming.

“She asked me out to dinner this Friday. She’s so smart, too—I didn’t even have to pretend to know what quantum entanglement was. It’s wild.” He laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. “I thought she’d never go for a guy like me, y’know?”

You force a laugh. “A guy like you?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Too much, I guess? But she said I was ‘refreshing.’” He grins. 

Your stomach sinks.

This is what you thought you wanted—for him to move on, so you could finally do the same. For Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru to succeed, for real this time.

But now that it’s happening, it feels like someone’s slowly pulling your ribs apart.

“Oh,” you manage, smiling like you’ve practiced it. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t notice the way your voice cracks on happy. He just keeps talking, rambling about restaurant reservations and how she likes contemporary poetry and used to live in France. You nod in all the right places, but your thoughts are already slipping away.

Because it isn’t just that he’s going out with someone else.

It’s that he chose her.

Her with her flawless skin and quiet charm and the kind of beauty that doesn’t need to try. Her, with everything you’re not. And more than that, it’s that he made you believe you could have meant more to him—when really, he’d been searching for someone else all along.

You excuse yourself early, mumbling something about laundry.

He doesn’t follow.

You don’t cry until you’re halfway home, the cold air biting at your cheeks as your vision blurs.

For the first time in years, you don’t text him goodnight.

You don’t wait for a meme. Or a dumb joke. Or his usual, “Hey, genius. Sleep.”

You go silent.

And when he texts the next day, you don’t reply.

You skip your library meet-up. You don’t sit next to him in class. You even duck into the stairwell when you see his ridiculous white hair from across campus.

It’s not because you’re mad. It’s because you’re heartbroken.

And you can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter—that he doesn’t matter.

You weren’t just losing your best friend.

You were losing the love of your life.

And he didn’t even notice.

It takes him three days to notice you’re gone.

Well—no. That’s a lie.

He notices immediately. The moment your usual seat in the library stays empty. When your laugh doesn’t echo in the café line. When your name doesn’t pop up on his screen at 2AM with some stupid meme captioned, “this reminded me of you, idiot.”

But he tells himself you’re busy.

Midterms, right? Stress. Coffee. You get like this sometimes, and he gets it. He really does.

So he waits. Tells himself not to be clingy.

But then Friday comes.

And he's sitting across from Ayane in some expensive, quiet restaurant where the napkins are folded like origami cranes and the water tastes filtered. She’s telling him about her research internship in Osaka, about enzymes and international grants, and all he can think is—

You’d be making fun of me right now.

You’d be kicking him under the table. Whispering some dumb pun about digimon. You’d be pulling faces every time he tried to pronounce the items on the menu. You’d be… you.

Ayane is lovely.

But she doesn’t laugh when he says something stupid. She just smiles politely.

She doesn’t ask about why his glasses are always crooked (it’s so you could fix them). Doesn’t tease him for double-knotting his laces like a paranoid grandma. Doesn’t call him “Sato” like it’s some private joke only the two of you get.

He walks her home. Thanks her for a nice evening.

Then he goes to the convenience store. Alone.

And he sees your favorite snack on the shelf and buys two out of habit.

He stares at his phone the entire train ride back.

No new messages.

Just the last one you sent days ago:

“Laundry. Rain check?”

And nothing since.

He waits. Another day. Then two.

You don’t show up to class again.

You don’t like his latest meme.

You don’t comment on the Digimon pun he texted you out of desperation.

You are silent.

And Satoru Gojo—brilliant, blind-sighted, the golden boy of theoretical physics, always five steps ahead—realizes, too late, that he’s been a fool.

That he didn’t just lose a study partner.

He lost the one person who knew him better than he knew himself.

The one person he couldn’t replace with rare Digimon pulls, half-solved physics equations, or overly sweet desserts.

And for the first time since he was a kid—

He’s afraid.

It’s been a little over a week.

A little over a week since Gojo Satoru has heard your voice. Since you shoved your coffee at him without asking, muttering “too sweet for me” when you really meant “I got this for you.” Since you poked fun at his stupid sock choices, or knocked your foot against his under the table like it was nothing.

And Satoru is suffering.

He's tried everything. Showed up to your house with excuses too weak to be called plans (“Hey, I brought your favorite snacks. I just... figured maybe you forgot you liked them?”). Waited outside your lecture hall until a security guard asked if he was lost. Took detours between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of your ponytail, your laugh, anything.

But you were always one step ahead.

You stopped answering his texts. Blocked him on that stupid dating app (which—ouch, even though you hadn’t used it seriously). You didn’t even show up to the library anymore. And even Shoko started looking at him with thinly veiled pity and a “you really fumbled the bag” look in her eyes.

Gojo Satoru is… just tired.

Miserable.

So when he finally finds you—not because he’s chasing you down this time, but because he’s walking the long way home, and there you are, sitting on the old swings at the park where you first met—it knocks the wind out of him.

You don’t look surprised to see him. Just... tired too.

“I figured you’d find me eventually,” you say quietly.

He swallows. His hands curl at his sides like he’s preparing for a fight.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “Why?”

You look away. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

Gojo looks down at his feet.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and stinging. The playground is empty except for the wind dragging a soda can down the sidewalk and the faint creak of the swing chain.

Then he exhales, ragged and unsure. “Look, I can’t—I can’t take this anymore.”

You glance up.

“I can’t either.”

Hope flares too fast, too naive in his chest. His shoulders drop like he’s been holding up the world. “That’s good,” he breathes, stepping forward. “Because the silent treatment—God, I thought I was going to—”

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

The words stop him cold.

“What?” he breathes.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. Like something already broken. “Don’t you get it? I can’t be friends with you and pretend that nothing’s changed. That I’m okay just being your best friend. I’ve been in love with you for years, Satoru.”

His heart stutters. You don’t stop.

“And I love myself too much to keep hurting for someone who doesn’t even look at me that way.” Your voice cracks, but you push through. “Do you know how humiliating it feels? To love someone so much it aches, and still feel like you’ll never be enough?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You never even thought I was cute.”

He looks like he’s been hit.

“I’ve been chasing scraps. Leftovers. Mixed signals and stupid inside jokes. I—I can’t do it anymore.”

You finally meet his eyes, and that’s when he sees it: the hurt you’ve been hiding behind every smile, every brush-off, every joke you cracked to keep the silence from swallowing you.

And for once, Gojo Satoru can’t find a single thing to say.

Not yet.

Not until he stops you from walking away.

“Where did you get an idea like that?” His cerulean eyes search yours desperately. “I-I don’t think you’re just cute, are you kidding?” he blurts, eyes wild.

“Y-you’re breathtaking! Everything I’ve dreamt of and more! That night when you asked me if I thought you were cute, I only said no because it would be a divine crime to reduce to such. All of my fantasies have been centered around you since we first met on that playground—since you tripped over your shoelaces trying to race me to the monkey bars!”

Your breath catches.

He continues, desperate now, like every second of silence might kill him.

“I love you! And not like a brother. Like—I want to marry you. Like, small wedding in Okinawa, barefoot on the beach, you wearing that soft blue dress you like. I already planned it. Our firstborn would be a daughter, with your eyes, my hair. She’d be the boss of the house.”

You gape.

“Wait—”

“I’m not done!” he says, hands thrown up. “Then we’d have twins. Boys. Chaos gremlins. One would look like my twin and the other yours, and they’d absolutely terrorize us—but their sister keeps them in check, she’s fierce like you.”

You blink. A tear slides down your cheek.

“I want to move to Kyoto,” he says, softer now. “Buy a house with a dumb little garden. Grow tomatoes we’ll never eat. Live out the rest of our lives where it’s quiet.”

You cover your mouth, stunned. “You… really thought all that out?”

“It’s easy,” he breathes, “when all I can think about is you.”

He steps closer. The wind tugs his white hair into his eyes, but he doesn’t blink.

“I go to study nonlinear quantum field theory and all I see is your face. I try to cool off and play Digimon, and even that’s ruined—my lineup is garbage now! I only keep the ones you said were cute!”

A laugh bubbles out of you, fragile and watery.

“You idiot,” you murmur.

“I am,” he nods solemnly. “I’m the world’s biggest idiot. And I’m in love with you.”

Another tear slips down. He wipes it away before you can.

“Is it too late?” he asks, voice cracking slightly. “Please tell me it’s not too late.”

You stare at him—this man, this brilliant, ridiculous, loyal boy who had held your heart long before you ever admitted it.

“It’s not too late,” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak. Just steps closer. Gently and carefully, like he's handling something sacred, he cups your cheek in his hand.

Your nose bumps his. His breath ghosts over your lips.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” he whispers.

And then, finally, he kisses you.

It’s not perfect, your cheeks are still wet, his nose bumps yours again, and his hand trembles just a little, but it’s warm and sweet and soft. It tastes like home. Like every unanswered question finally getting its answer.

When he pulls away, his smile is sheepish. “So… are we still doing the whole ‘Operation: Get Over Gojo’ thing, or?”

You laugh, heart full, forehead pressed to his.

“Mission failed,” you whisper.

He grins. “Good.”

And then he kisses you again.

art by leimiruu on x!

[physalian]

So I actually live about 15 mins from Universal Orlando and I have an annual pass. I understand from a business standpoint why HP shit is in now all 3 parks (not including VB), but as fun as the rides are, it is so, so annoying seeing this franchise out-sell and thus out-shine Universal’s other franchises.

I mean that an Minions, but Minions is just irritating. Minion merch does not sell at any level compared to HP merch, and some of it is genuinely cool looking, ngl. I’ve never been an HP fan but I had connections to some of the employees and thus their discount and casually wanted a Slytherin robe. They’re like $90 and not all that high quality, I could make one from a trip to Joann’s custom fitted for my size.

But the other reason I don’t like all the HP stuff is that those lands are just so blatantly gift-shop first, and then rides. In the Studios, they ripped out my favorite ride as a kid (Earthquake) and replaced it with 90% shopping and Escape From Gringotts. And it’s always packed. Because people are always buying. So I can’t really blame the park with fans of this ridiculous franchise always rabid for whatever new piece of green/blue/yellow/red merch they can get their hands on, doesn’t matter what it is so long as there’s a house logo slapped onto it.

In IoA, there’s 3 HP rides, one very much known to get you very, very sick, one for kids, and the big one, Hagrid’s Magical Creatures, which is probably the best ride between the two original parks (besides Mummy, Mummy is King). It’s long, it’s dynamic, the ride vehicles are super cool, and you feel like you’ve got your time waiting in line’s worth.

**I’ve heard but cannot verify that the only reason HP land didn’t end up at Disney was because Rowling demanded a functional Hogwarts Express and Disney refused. Universal basically said “lady we’ll build you whatever you want just sign on the dotted line” so there is zero brand moral superiority here, Disney is just incredibly cheap and deathly afraid of committing to any designs that are too unique to be resellable and re-brandable if they fail.

But there’s also Hogsmeade as the hub of those three rides, and there ain’t shit to do in Hogsmeade except spend money, and there are always people spending money.

I can’t afford a ticket to Epic Universe and never cared about the Ministry side of things even when I watched the movies, but they would not have built a third HP land in their brand new park if people weren’t so trigger-happy buying HP merch.

I know it’s vacation and it’s no different than a trip to Disney World, but if you have to buy your stuff because you’re not crafty enough to make it, save the theme park upcharge and buy it elsewhere. Or just make it yourself.

The park has already been built, they won’t tear out the HP stuff immediately, but not buying souvenirs there would help. Universal is in it for the money, so if you help kill their cash cow, they’ll dump it for a more profitable franchise eventually.

I’d say not riding HP rides would also help because ride data determines which rides get the budgets for maintenance and upgrades… but you’re there spending theme park prices, and it all goes in one pot anyway from your park ticket.

Obligatory disclaimer that I’m not trying to shame the park goers for enjoying these rides and areas, I enjoy them, they’re doing what they were designed to do. Just think twice before buying that wand or that robe.

Oh, and by the way, that Supreme Court ruling is where that Harry Potter money goes.

[pazzispizookies]

— — Guarded — —

Hey Guys! I hope you all enjoyed chapter 6! I wouldn’t freaking know because no one gives me feedback expect for my dedicated pookies. Also go check out @izzih22 new series if you haven’t! Along with @hereforuconnwbb new series!! but I would like to hear y’all’s feedback more, post a comment, send inbox or Dm with what u like/dislike abt the chapters so I know what yall want to see better! I’d appreciate it so very much pookies. Have fun reading… ;)

Pairing: Hopkins transfer Azzi x Hopkins Paige

The quiet vibration of the car engine filled the space.

Thoughts swirling in both girls heads about what had happened at the diner.

“So, are you gonna tell me where your driving? or am I just being kidnapped?” Azzi asked, glancing over at Paige.

Paige was resting on hand on the steering wheel, spread out lazily but still maneuvering the car with persision, “I figured you’d want something sweet, you have a disgusting sweet tooth Az,”

Azzi felt her heart tighten a little at Paige knowing what she wanted, then it struck her. How did she know? “How do you know I have a sweet tooth? are you really a stalker P, its getting kinda scary.” She teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Something had definitely changed. It was unspoken but still, their flirting had gone from having an underlying sense of rivalry, to now having a heat behind it. Azzi had realized the day she met Paige their relationship was going to be different. Like a cosmic pull was stringing them closer. And now, she thought that it might not have been a ‘cosmic pull’ but just pure attraction. Something that scared her in the best way.

Paige had the same idea, less intense, but she knew she wanted Azzi. She wanted her bad. But she was the reason their relationship started off rocky, but she didn’t regret it. If anything she was glad she could flirt with Azzi and blame it on her hating her. Even though that reason wasn’t the truth. She felt herself looking at Azzi, from in class, to stealing glances of her during practice, to when she was alone in bed at night and found herself on her Instagram page, admiring the small details of her from her modeling posts. It was all something she knew was apart of something larger, something was going to happen between them. She knew Azzi was different already.

Paige looked over at Azzi, the moonlight and streets casting a warm glow into her deep brown eyes, “I’m not a stalker, just observant.”

Just as Paige said that, she started to pull into a Ice cream store parking lot,

“Ice cream?” Azzi asked, trying to hide her pure child-like excitement.

Paige saw the way her eyes lit up, it tugging at her heart a little, “Yes, are you five years old by any chance?”

Azzi scoffed, clicking off her seatbelt and grabbing her phone, “is it a crime to like ice cream as a 16 year old? Last time I checked it wasn’t.”

Paige rolled her eyes, still trying to pretend she wasn’t falling for every little thing Azzi said. She had always been the type to fall quickly, more often then not getting hurt by it. But it was something about herself she couldn’t change. she feared that it would hurt her again, but there’s no stopping whats in motion.

Paige got out of the car, making sure to grab her wallet and phone.

Azzi did the same, already have started to walk towards the building.

Paige caught up with her, hands in pockets and decided to verbalize wat she had been thinking about. “So..we should probably talk about the whole ‘Ash’ thing.”

Paige opened the door for Azzi, letting her in first. To which Azzi returned a small smile, not one of her normal cocky ones toward Paige, but one from her heart.

They walked in and noticed it was pretty packed,

“Yeah we can talk…after ice cream. Also, maybe we should sit outside, it’s pretty busy in here, yknow get some quiet. If it doesn’t make you too nervous.”

Paige leaned her head back a little, narrowing her eyes on Azzi, “I wont be nervous, already have you wrapped around my finger.”

Azzi shook her head foundly, letting out an exhale, “You’ve got that all wrong Bueckers. Cmon, I want ice creammmm!”

Azzi grabbed Paiges forearm and pulled her towards the counter, speaking up to the worker immediately.

She didn’t need to look at the menu, already knowing what to order. “Hi, could I get a medium cup of Rocky road, with sprinkles and hot fudge?”

The worker nodded and looked at Paige,

Paige added in, “Uh yeah can I just get a small cup of vanilla? That’s all.”

Azzi glared at her, “Boring.”

Paige scoffed, “Not boring, just an aware athlete trying not to poison herself.”

The worker who was watching the teasing, amused, spoke up. “It’ll be 7.98, and can I just say you guys are such a cute couple. You can tap on the screen by the way.”

Azzis face felt a rush of heat at the awkward moment, but Paige not wanting to let the moment to be bad for all of them spoke, “Thanks,” While she tapped her phone to the screen to pay.

Azzi was a little taken a back by her answer, making a mental note to ask her about it later. But greatful that it shut down the conversation.

The worker smiled while she handed the ice cream cups to each of them along with spoons. “Have a good night you guys.”

Paige simply nodded at her, and Azzi replied, “You too.”

They started to walk towards the door, the silence between them deafening.

Paige open the door for Azzi once again, to which Azzi didn’t have the same reaction before, a little lost in her thoughts.

They walked in awkward silence to a bench at the back of the building, it was surrounded by green grass and overlooking a quiet park in the still of the night. Only illuminated by a street light and the moon, the warm night air sweeping through.

Azzi sat down on the same side as Paige, positioned foward looking out at the park.

But as it hit Azzi, her brain simply fried from everything, she blurted out, “ugh, why do you always smell like that.”

Paige startled out of her thoughts grew a little concerned at the sudden sentence. “Uh…like what?”

Azzi became aware of what it sounded like she was implying, quickly corrected herself. “No, not like that yknow. like every time we have class or after running miles at practice you still smell really good, it’s annoying.”

Paige felt herself heat up at the silly compliment, “You obsessed with me, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her ice cream while looking at the park across the field from them. Paige looked over at her profile, noting the soft curves in her nose and the way her eyelashes caught the moonlight.

“I’m not obsessed with you, just… observant as well.”

Paige shook her head, the awkwardness from emailer seemingly dissipating into the night air.

“So, Ash. Whats our plan for that?” Paige redirected.

Azzi crossed her legs and met Paiges eyes, which were strickingy blue still. “You mean my plan to get us out of the issue you created? Haven’t thought much about it yet.”

Paige sighed, taking a bite of her ice cream and thinking.

Azzi spoke first, also running it through her mind, “well, I mean, I guess I’ll text her tonight. Maybe like a few of her highlights, see if she leads.”

Paige nodded, “Yeah, she’ll lead. She always does.”

Azzi was quiet for a beat, but then she cleared her throat and met Paiges gaze again. “How come you didn’t correct the worker in here when she called us a couple.”

The truth was, Paige didn’t hate hearing someone mistake them for a couple. “I just didn’t want it to be awkward, correcting her would just make us all feel a little weird.”

Azzi hummed, taking in what she said, even though not believing it to an extent.

Then just in that moment of silence, her phone buzzed.

Paige grabbed Azzis phone hearing the buzz, like she had the right too.

“Hey!” Azzi protested at the blonde

Paige looked at her phone seeing a notification.

Instagram:

Ash: hey pretty, you invite your team yet? just trying to get a head count lol.

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige’s face, it contorting into one of confusion and some relief.

“What is it?” She asked,

Paige turned the phone around to reveal the message, which she quickly scanned.

“Maybe you were right. That’s pretty friendly.” Paige said, fully handing the phone to her. But something in her tone was off….almost upset.

“You good?” Azzi asked having noticed the underlying tone,

Paiges jaw clenched slightly, avoiding eye contact with her, “yeah I’m good. You should respond.”

Azzi took a second to study Paige, wonder what she was thinking before opening the phone.

She went to instagram, reading it through again. Then turned back to Paige, “sooo..what do I say?”

Paige wanted her to say nothing, she was almost blinded by the thought of Azzi flirting with her Ex because of her stupidity. But she had to push those feelings down, knowing that this was the only way to get Ash to not leak anything.

“Well..you flirt.” Paige responded. Also looking at the phone

Azzi let out a huff, “I know that big head, but I mean, like how?”

Paige looked up, “how? You don’t know how to flirt?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes, but then looked away quickly. Because truthfully, she didn’t. Paige was the only one she had ever really flirted with, and that was only because it was a challenge….well at least at first.

“I don’t go around flirting with everyone, unlike you.” She replied,

Paige rolled her eyes, focusing back on her ice cream in hand, taking a slow bite, lingering the plastic spoon in her mouth. “I don’t flirt with everyone, Azzi.” She said, her voice nearing a dangerous level of honesty.

Those words kicked her back into focus, knowing they had a double meaning, and knowing the meaning behind it wasn’t one to explore tonight. “Well, looks like it to me. Yknow you do that thing.” Azzi said, gesturing towards Paige’s face.

Paige looked over amused, dropping her voice to a smooth teasing one. “What thing? Look pretty?”

Azzi scoffed at her, the only worse about Paige being pretty is that she knew it. “Not that.”

“So you admit I’m pretty?” Paige quickly replied, leaning in.

“I never said that”

“But you never denied it.”

Azzi took the challenge,

She leaned in even closer to Paige, inches away, and whispered, “yeah, you’re pretty. Happy?”

Paige felt heat pool at the words, mixed with the limited space between them, she’d do anything to close the gap.

“That. Right there,”

Azzi looked at her confused, “huh?”

Paige leaned back, creating some much needed space, ”that was flirting, even if it wasn’t as good as mine, you do know what to do, Princess.” She said as she took another bite of ice cream.

“Okay 1. Your not much better at flirting them me. 2. I have to do this over text, to a stranger.” Azzi answered, glancing back down at her open phone,

“Psh, we both know I can flirt better, that’s okay to admit. And yknow just like, use what you have to your advantage.”

“What I have? What do you mean?” Azzi said looking into her blue eyes,

Paige let her gaze drift off again, thinking about if she was gonna be honest. But with a breath, she decided it was easier to just suck it up and say it. “Post yourself. A good photo of yourself. She’ll reply to it. I’ll bet on that,”

Azzi looked at her, confused because she thinks Paige may have just given her a compliment, a complicated one nevertheless. “Okay, I will. Is my face just that alluring? She’ll come running at the sight of it.”

“Anyone with a brain would come running to you if they had the chance,” Paige said, leaning in.

Azzi breath caught for a split second, caught off guard by Paige’s words.

Paige caught the reaction. A grin spreading across her face. “See? I’m better at flirting.”

Azzi shoved her. Which drew a dramatic groan from Paige.

“Shut up, I’ll post something tonight. Even if I look like a desperate slut because of it.”

Paige nodded, still slightly smiling. “Lookin foward to it.”

A comfortable silence feel over them for a minute, neither one complaining about it, because there was just something nice about being in each others presence.

“You done?” Azzi asked, looking at Paige’s and her own empty cups.

“Yea,” she said standing up, offering out a hand for Azzi.

Her heart warmed at the small gesture, it just seemed to be something Paige did without thinking, showing that she wasn’t all that bad.

Azzi grabbed her hand, lingering on it for a second before pulling away.

Paige felt the touch stretch, but really she didn’t want it to end. It seemed like their hands fit perfectly together.

“You’re driving.”

Paige caught the keys Azzi just threw at her with a groan,

*****

They walked back to the car,

as both of them sat down in their chairs, Azzi speaks up. “Yknow, we don’t really have anything tomorrow until practice, schools closed for voting or something.”

“Yeah…and?” Paige asked.

Azzi hesitated for a second, “my parents and bothers aren’t home, maybe you wanna come over? If you don’t that’s totally fine too.”

Paige was a little shocked at the invitation, especially since she didn’t know if Azzi felt the same pull to be around her, “Yeah, sure -um yeah.” Paige replied, smile tugging at her mouth.

“Cool,” Azzi replied as nonchalant as she could (which wasn’t very much)

Paige started to drive in the direction of Azzis house, silently freaking out, because hanging out alone with her in an empty house was a little more than she could handle.

After 6 mintues of music filled silence between them, Paige pulled into her driveway.

Azzi got out of the car, waiting for Paige to follow,

They made their way up the stairs and she started fumbling with her key at the door before pausing for a moment and looking at Paige, “Oh - but the way. I have a kid.”

“A what?” Paige said shocked.

Azzi chuckled. “Yeah, she’s only a year old. But don’t be too loud, I think she’s asleep.”

“You have a kid? Since when?” Paige asked, racking her mind.

Azzi played into it more, “yeah, she’s the love of my life. We tried to keep it hidden from the public as much as we could.”

“uhh—Okay?” Paige replied, completely baffled at this new information.

Azzi pushed the door open, making her way inside as Paige followed suit.

“Wait right here, I’ll go get her.” Azzi said looking back, trying to hide her lying.

Paige threw her hands up, with a shrug. “Okay I guess?”

Azzi wandered off into the house, opening her bedroom door to find Stewie, her dog and baby. Asleep on her bed.

“Hey stew, I have someone to meet.” She said carefully picking up the tired dog.

stewie started wagging her tail at the sound of Azzi voice, gleefully letting herself be picked up.

Azzi tried to stay as quiet as she could while walking back to Paige, making her way to the living room.

Paige stood there on her phone, racking socials for information on Azzi apparent pregnancy.

She didn’t even hear Azzi creep up until she spoke, “Paige this is Stewie, my baby. and Stewie this is Paige.”

Stewie started barking in Azzis arms at the sight of the blonde.

“Really?”

“What?” Azzi said placing Stewie down, “She’s my baby.”

“You so annoying Az,” Paige said, putting her phone away, slightly relieved to see Azzi didn’t have a whole child.

She bent down to pet Stewie who was already at her legs, “Hey there Stewie, You have a stupid mom. Sorry about that.”

Azzi crossed her arms and scoffed, taking offense“She does not!”

Paige stood back up and chucked, “Sureeeee”

Azzi rolled her eyes and started walking towards her room, motioning for Paige to follow.

Once they entered her room Azzi plopped down on her bed, As for Paige, she stood awkwardly in the door way.

“Uhhh, what’re you doing?”

Paige shrugged, “standing.”

“Well stop it, it’s weird, sit down.” She said patting a spot next to her on the bed.

Paige pushed off the wall and sat down next to Azzi on her pink bed.

she looked around the room, it was everything Azzi times 100.

Light pink walls, books stacked with vines hanging off of it, Icecream stickers on her laptop with a neatly organized desk. Even to her pink queen sized bed, having being perfectly made and adorned with Unicorn pillows, only the soft glow from fairly lights illuminating the space.

“Wow, your rooms so ‘5 year old girl’ meets ‘clean freak’ “

Azzi scoffed and leaned back on her pillows, “Shut up, it’s probably better then yours.”

Paige looked down at her, slightly taken back by her beauty. Her curls sprawled out over the light pink pillow, she relaxed completely from being in a comfortable area. “It’s not. Mines much more ‘13 year old boy with a Lebron James obsession’ “

“I’d bet.” Azzi responded, looking into Paiges eyes, only now aware of the fact Paige was on her bed. In her house. Looking this good.

“Uh so anyways, you dated Ash, so you know what she likes right?”

Paige nodded, “to an extent”

“so I need you to help me with the post, the one to lure her in.”

Paige shook her head “I told you, I don’t know how to do girl things.”

Azzi sighed then threw a pillow at her, causing her to yelp.

“Well you better learn.”

“Abuse, Azzi. Abuse.” Paige said pretending to be hurt

Azzi stuck her tounge out at her, “Yeah, yeah. Now lay down, your being oddly uncomfortable, I don’t bite.” She said now getting up and moving for her closet.

Paige laid down, feeling a lot less uncomfortable by her words, sighing at the feeling of being relaxed after a long day. “Where’re you going?”

Azzi had disappeared into her closet for a moment, returning holding a few shirts. “Gettting options.”

“Options for what?” Paige asked, fully sprawled out on Azzi bed.

“For my shirt for the photos stupid, I can’t take them in this.”

“You could. You still look good to me.” Paige replied, sweeping her gaze over Azzi’s body

Azzi rolled her eyes even thought the compliment and attention felt nice. “Hush, Now help me pick.” She said thorwing three shirts at Paige.

Page picked the rudely thrown clothes up, the first one being a white cop top, nothing special. “No,”

The second one being a green top, half off the shoulder, “No.”

and the third being a tight black top, the v neck dangerously low with long sleeves. “this.” She said throwing the shirt back at Azzi.

“Really?” She asked, shocked by the choice.

Paige nodded, “Mhm, most slut like, she likes that.”

“Ew, but okay.” Azzi replied, moving towards the closet, shirt in hand.

She took a second to change, having to switch from a sports bra to a normal one, then came out of her closet to show Paige.

“Good?”

“Hot.” Paige replied simply, starring straight at Azzi cleavage.

“pervert.” Azzi said making her way to her desk.

She threw her speaker to the bed, “Play something, its too quiet I can hear you starring at me”

Paige grabbed the speaker, “Okay, no complaining though.”

Azzi nodded.

Paige unlocked her phone, knowing exactly what to play. She went to Bluetooth and connected the speaker, and stared playing “Crybaby” by Sza softly.

The sounds filled the air as Azzi applied some Mascara and highlighter, curling her eyelashes along with it.

after 5 mintues Paige groaned, “what are you doinggggg, I’m bored.”

Azzi didn’t even turn around, not entertaining Paige. “Go on your phone, stupid.”

Paige did just that, looking at her feed for about 2 seconds before turning a pillow into a weapon, launching it at Azzi.

Azzi scoffed and turned around, “what did you just do.”

Paige didn’t respond, instead grabbing another pillow and throwing it at her “Nothin”

Azzi practiacally launched herself out of her chair, immediately grabbing a pillow and smacking Paige.

Paige did the same, grabbing a pillow and smacking her dead in the chest to which Azzi fought back hard, grabbing another and smacking her face,

“Oh your dead” Paige said sitting up and grabbing Azzis waist to pull her foward,

Azzi felt the touch on her, but then felt another blow straight to her face, she stumbled onto her bed, reaching over to hit Paige.

But the way she ended up on Paige, was a little….different than she’d hoped, realizing after a few more hits she was fully straddling Paige.

Paige also stopped fighting feeling the weight of Azzi on top of her.

a silence feel over the room.

Both of them just looking at each other.

Azzi looked more gorgeous then Paige had ever seen, the soft lighting, the flattering color from her shirt, her hair slightly tussled and sprawled out on her shoulders, but her eyes were the best thing. Because they were staring intensely at her.

“Um. Well this is awkward.” Azzi said, stating to get up from her spot.

Paige found herself moving instinctively, wanting Azzi to stay exactly where she was.

Her hand found her waist, firmly holding her down. “Don’t move.”

“What?” Azzi asked, even though she needed to move because an unwelcomed throbbing began in her.

“Don’t move.” Paige repeated now leaning over to grab her phone.

“What’re you doing Paige?” Azzi asked, completely not okay with the amount of turned on she was right now.

Paige felt the same, even if she didn’t know Azzi was relating. But as she turned back to her, phone in hand and one still firmly on her waist. She spoke “This is perfect for the photo, just saying.”

Azzi glanced at her, the realized she was probably right. The light was hitting her softly and she was in a pretty questionable position, one that Ash would surely comment on.

“Uh okay.” She responded.

Paige kept a hand on her waist, pretending like it was the most natural thing in the world, which to some extent, it felt like it was.

She unlocked her phone and got on the camera app, pointing the phone up at Azzi.

On the screen she looked even better, the angle was working for her and her brown eyes seemed to glow brighter than the moon. She looked stunning. Unreal.

“What do I do? Just smile?” Azzi asked, feeling a little awkward.

“You’re literally a model bro, how do you not know how to pose.” Paige replied.

“Because most of the time i’m not straddling someone’s lap.” Azzi said, reminding Paige of the position.

Paige thought for a moment about what she could do, then she dug her fingers deeper into Azzis hips. Earning a slew of laughter to come from her.

“Paige! Stop!!” Azzi said completely losing it while being tickled.

Paige smiled up at her, taking a bunch of pictures of Azzi laughing on top of her, “I’ll stop in a second, pretty girl”

Azzi looked down at her, the nickname sending a shock through her,

Paige glanced up, the name just slipping from her mouth before she could stop it.

“What did you call me?” Azzi asked, her focus now only on Paige.

Paige couldn’t respond, her finger still holding down on the phone taking pictures. What had she just done. It’s like her brain forgot that she wasn’t supposed to feel anything towards Azzi. Sweet, beautiful Azzi. Who was staring down waiting for a response.

“Sorry….Got caught up,” Paige mumbled out. Avoiding eye contact at all costs with her face burning.

Azzi looked down at the blonde, normally the face of confidence. Who was now flustered under her, clearly embarrassed. But the thing was, Azzi would die to hear her say it again, her heart was nearing bursting.

She grabbed Paiges jaw gently, guiding it to look at her, watching the way her breath hitched at the contact.

“I don’t mind. It’s okay,” Azzi said smoothly, reassuring. Because that was the truth. She didn’t mind.

Paiges face only got more red, quickly realizing she wasn’t gonna be able to control her feelings much longer she redirected the heated moment. “Uh—I think I got the photos,”

“Oh yeah, right.” Azzi said getting off her lap, noticing the shift in the air going back to where it was before.

As she laid down next to Paige it got more apparent that she had some….issues happening. Being clearly turned on from her earlier position.

Ignoring this she gabbed the phone, “lets see,”

She opened up the photos app, seeing nearly 100 photos of her. “Paige! Did you just hold down on the button? Now we have to go through all 14 billion of them.”

Paige shrugged, feeling way too comfortable next to Azzi in bed. “I just held it, thought that’s what I supposed to do! I’m no photographer.”

Azzi shoved her shoulder, touch lingering for a second to long and clicked on the first photo.

She looked unreal. The warm glow of the soft yellow-white fairy lights reflecting in her eyes, the dark room, the black shirt a contrast on her paler skin from the fall months, her hair looser from being tussled. Even to her face, the smile whole and bright, all real, thanks to Paige. And the best thing about the photo is that you can see the pale hand on her waist, clear as day. Along with the outline of her sitting on a lap, not to much, but just enough.

“Wow” Paige said, a little breathless at the captured photo.

“Is that one good?” Azzi asked, already knowing the answer.

Paige nodded her head, still a little speechless, “yeah, um- yea.”

Azzi took the phone from the middle of them and opened up instagram.

She selected the photo and put a soft filter over it, it only improving the photo.

She captioned it simply, “Guess who?” And hit post.

She threw her phone down. Turning over and looking at Paige, “now we wait.”

*****

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ BEFORE YOU GO 　　────　ᅠ ( sim jake )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀time is running out. jake leaves for brunei at sunrise, and you still haven’t told him the truth: you’re in love with him. with memories pressing in and emotions running high, you only have this as your one final chance to speak—or live with the silence forever.

　　　ᅠ 명재현 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 1.8k ⠀ genre fluff angst childhood friends brother's best friend ⠀ contains mentions of food skinship injury ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ 　　　ᅠ BEST ENJOYED WITH .. clueless by regina song!

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ hi @yuons this is for you! i hope this wasnt too angsty for you jun... and hey! debut jake fic >:) i havent finished the jay and taesan one that i promised to post saur that will come soon hopefully. anyways, enjoy ~

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

YOU play with the edges of the bandaid, hanging for its life onto your finger. You bite the bottom of your lip, and you stop yourself from doing it again—the cycle repeats itself for quite some time. 

“You look like you’re about to vomit,” Jay’s voice rings in your ear, and it shatters your thoughts. You sharply eye him. He walks past you and into the kitchen, handing your mother the kimchi he’d cut up—originally, your mother had asked you to cut them for her, but after injuring your finger while mindlessly thinking about the future, she changed her mind. 

“I’m not,” you hiss at your brother, who in return just laughs. 

Jay ruffles your hair before walking back to the living room. “Whatever you say.”

You don’t say anything in reply. 

You feel the humidity clouding the kitchen, the steam rising from the pot of budae-jjigae that your mother is mixing. You turn to help your mother sprinkle in the green onions, unable to contain your emotions longer if you continue to watch your brother and his best friend laughing together in the living room. 

The smell of grilled meat and savoury broth fills the house, and the sound of laughter coming from the living room makes the atmosphere feel kind of comforting. 

It’s always been that way. 

You, Jake, and Jay—being with your older brother and his best friend always had been what you pictured home to be. 

After finishing up the stew with your mother, you walk towards the living room to get Jay to help you set up the table.

“Jay–” 

Jake’s eyes meet yours. 

You freeze, and it hits you—tomorrow, the laughter that you dearly love wouldn’t be echoing in your house anymore. 

You remember the moment everything started: the night two summers ago, just you and Jake in the quiet of the night, stars sparkling over the soccer field. 

HE had found you sitting alone there, hugging your knees as the winds rustled past you. 

You were too busy crying to notice him slipping his hoodie, warm and worn, over your shoulders. You didn’t even notice when he got there, and how he settled himself so naturally and comfortably next to you. 

“You alright?” he asked. 

You sniffled, nodding. You couldn’t look at him, slightly embarrassed by the way you probably look ugly with the ruined makeup—instead, you let the cold winds sting the salty tears out of your eyes. 

“Thank you for coming, Jake.”

You heard Jake exhale heavily. 

The school auditorium lights had been blinding, but that wasn’t enough to hide the evident empty seats on the third row. The ones you’d reserved for your parents and Jay. A last-minute work thing. A fever. An “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

You didn’t blame them, but it hurted. 

You smiled, of course. You were always good at that. 

But just before the curtain rose, someone slid into the aisle seat at the very end, slightly out of breath, hoodie halfway off his shoulder.

Jake.

He gave you a thumbs-up and an exaggerated wink as the spotlight found you.

You widen your eyes, and forget your next line for half a second.

And now, it’s later, and you found yourself away from the people celebrating backstage. You didn’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this—but you desperately hoped that your parents and Jay had come to watch your play. This was something you worked hard for, and it took a big leap of courage for you to be able to do this. You loved being in plays and acting, but being on stage wasn’t something you looked forward to. 

Jake smiled softly. “You absolutely killed it,” he said, smoothly putting a can of iced tea into your hands. “Especially the part where you dramatically died on that cardboard battlefield.”

You laughed, and you felt warm against the cold autumn night. 

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” you said after a while. 

“Yeah, I did,” Jake said, quieter now. “You said it was important to you.”

You turned to face him, ignoring the way your mascara ran down your cheeks. “Jake…”

You didn’t know what to say, and you didn’t know what to do about the obvious butterflies fluttering in your chest. 

And Jake didn’t say anything either, despite his usual chatter. He simply smiled. 

“Keep that hoodie, you’ll need it.”

“Y/N? You okay?” Jake asks, and it pulls you back into the present. 

Jay gets up from the couch. “Yeah, what’s up?”

You quickly shake your head. “Nothing! Um- just- Jay, mom called you.”

You let Jay walk past you, your eyes still glued to Jake. Realizing that Jake would probably notice you being weird, you immediately take a seat next to him. 

“Soooo,” you begin, hoping that the conversation flows naturally. “You nervous?”

Jake chuckles, leaning back. “Me? Nervous?” he flashes a grin to you, and you bite your lip in an attempt to contain your heart’s acceleration. “Not a chance!”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Fine,” he admits, “a little. Brunei’s far.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. 

And you’re leaving me behind. 

THE dinner goes well—you hope. Your family and Jake had always been close, and you’re sure your parents see him as one of their children by now. He sat next to Jay, and you couldn’t look at him—not without tears welling up in your eyes. 

You hate how he’s going away. 

Why can’t he just go to an army camp or whatever here? 

You miss him already. 

“Why do I always find you out in the cold by yourself?” 

“Jake?” you turn sharply upon hearing him chuckle. You’re sitting on the stairs in front of your front door, staring at the starry night sky. He closes the door behind him, and sits down next to you, his breath visible in the air. 

Jake slips the leather jacket he’s wearing on your shoulders. “At this point I think I’m going to have to give you my entire wardrobe, Y/N.”

You huff, hitting his chest, but it’s not as hard as you used to do. 

“I’ll miss you.”

It slips from your tongue so effortlessly, it’s like you’ve never held it in all these years. 

The look on Jake’s face is something you’ve never seen before. 

“I’ll miss you too, kiddo.”

A heavy wave of disappointment washes over you. 

“Kiddo”? 

Does he hate you or what?

You narrow your eyes, a poor try at masking the tears in your eyes. “You see me as just a sister, don’t you?”

“What?” Jake breathes. 

The two of you sit there, knees touching as you stare at each other wide eyed, realising the weight of your words. 

“You’re so clueless,” you sigh, pressing your lips together. 

Jake grabs your shoulders before you can turn away. He makes you face him, his eyes swirling dangerously with some kind of emotion you’ve never seen in him. 

Suddenly, you find your voice, along with your courage, stuck in your throat. 

“I’m not,” he states, his voice shaky by the end. “Tell me. Tell me, Y/N.”

You laugh sheepishly, turning your head away. “What are you talking about, Jake? I–”

“Y/N.”

The desperation in his voice is now evident, and you find yourself eye to eye with him again. 

“I…”

“Tell me, Y/N. I know you’re hiding something, and I don’t know why I feel so curious that I want to know before I, well, leave.”

You stare at Jake, who’s right in front of you, his breath warm against your face. He’s still holding your shoulders, his grip tight like he really doesn’t want you to pull away. 

You’ve loved him since forever. You’ve watched him grow up with you and your brother, and slowly, you watched him be the person you want to spend forever with. 

You and Jake are like best friends, soulmates even. There were times where Jay would complain that you and Jake have better chemistry than him and his own best friend—and you can’t help but admit that. You know of all the things that happen between you and Jake—the lingering glances, the inside jokes, and the way you’re both open with each other. You weren’t afraid to tell him anything, but one. 

Your feelings for him. 

You’re comfortable, basking in his affection for you in the name of Jay’s little sister. But now, after receiving the news that you won’t be seeing for a long while, you’re growing uneasy. What if you never have the chance to say your heart’s content ever again?

“Jake,” you call out, breathless. 

“Yeah?” His voice is as quiet as yours.“What’s up?”

“I… I love you.” your voice cracks. “I just… needed you to know. Before you go.”

The world around you fades into the background. 

Jake’s frown softens, and it melts into something that you can’t read. He stares at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. His grip on your shoulder loosens, and his hands fall to his side. 

“Y/N…”

You don’t even realise the tears streaming down your cheeks until Jake leans forward, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You really know just how to perfectly mess up a guy’s goodbye, huh? Your brother’s best friend at that, too.”

You let out a laugh, despite your tears still raining down your face. “I didn’t want to regret, you know, not ever… getting it out there.”

Jake puts his hands to your side, caressing you softly with his thumbs. He looks up to the sky, then back at you again. “I don’t know what’s waiting for me over there. But if—when—I come back…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

Jake presses a kiss to your lips, warm and steady. It’s short, but it’s enough to catch you off guard. Enough to tell you what he feels. 

“Take care of your brother,” he says after pulling away, “and take very good care of yourself too.”

“I’ll try, I promise,” you nod briefly. 

“And… text me. Call me. Whatever,” Jake continues, his voice cracking. 

You smile, nodding and tears begin to mess your face up again. He pulls you into a hug, long and tight, and when he lets go, the warmth lingers for a while. 

Your tears don’t stop even when it’s time for him to leave. 

“See you later, Y/N,” Jake says, caressing the top of your hair. The two of you ignore the looks Jay is giving. 

You smile softly. 

Then Jake is gone. And you stand there, the light of the street light brushing over your face, heart beating out of rhythm now that he’s away—not quite broken, not quite whole, but alive.

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[rollinouttahere-writes-misc]

Hi hope you’re doing ok ! Would it be ok if I request yandere Itadori with his best friend reader who nearly gets killed by a cursed spirit please 🙏

(If possible can the reader be female if not gn is fine with me ^^) (romantic if possible if not platonic is fine as well XD )

Lassitude

Yandere Itadori Yuji x Reader

2.9 k words

Summary: You just got to meet up with a friend you hadn't seen in a while, and now you're headed home after a fun day out. But you can't shake the feeling of being watched. It's nothing... right?

Warnings: female presenting reader, universe typical violence, injury to reader, death, yandere if you squint

“Thanks again for meeting up with me today, I know it was really short notice.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m just happy to see you again. When you transferred out of school so suddenly, I got really worried about you. I’m just glad that you’re okay.” You look over at Yuji and smile half-heartedly, “Sasaki and Iguchi have been asking about you a lot. You should probably reach out to them, too. I feel a little bad hogging you all to myself like this.”

A glimmer of hope sparks in your heart. Maybe there’s a reason he reached out to only you?

“Oh, are they? I didn’t think we were close enough for them to be worried about me.” Yuji scratches the back of his head, looking a little flustered. “But thanks for letting me know. You’re such a good friend.”

Ah. There it is. “Friend”. 

It’s not that you’re ungrateful for your friendship with Yuji, but… you would be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t want it to be something more.

Yuji is the kindest person you’ve ever met, and he held the first place title by a significant margin. Anyone would be lucky to call him a friend, and you were, but you couldn’t help how your heart felt. How it skipped a beat when he would lend you his hand to help you up. How it fluttered when he remembered your favorite snacks and drinks and would make sure to get one for you. How it felt like it was going to explode when he shot you a text asking if you could meet up today.

And today had been fun. You met with him at a local arcade that you two used to go to all the time. Despite all of the months apart, you fell into the same synergy and easy conversation that had always come naturally. It was as if you’d just seen him yesterday. He even won you a little Cinnamoroll plush from one of the claw machines.

“Is everything okay? You got quiet all of a sudden.” Yuji is just ahead of you, walking backwards with a concerned look on his face.

A well practiced fake smile is plastered onto your face following his question. “Everything’s fine.” Your fingers mess with the ears of your plush, “I was just thinking about how I wish we could do this more often, like we used to.”

The guilt that flashes across his face makes you immediately regret your words. Guilt tripping Yuji into hanging out with you more is the last thing you would want to do to him, so you quickly try to backpedal, “Not that I’m blaming you or anything! I get that you’re busy.”

“It’s okay,” the smile he flashes you makes your heart feel fuzzy, “I get it. I wish we could see each other more often, too. I’ll try to make more room for you from now on. I promise.”

“Really?” You can no longer contain your excitement. Without even thinking about it, you leap forward and all but tackle him in a hug, “Thank you! That’s the best news I’ve gotten all week!” More like all year, but you’re trying to at least pretend to be normal about this.

It dawns on you that this isn’t very laid back and casual of you. You release him and step back, clearing your throat and trying to act nonchalant, “I mean, only if you’re sure you have the time. I don’t want you going out of your way just for me.” You do. You absolutely do.

Yuji flashes his signature smile, “I want to go out of my way for you. You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Critical hit. Your face feels hot and you avert your eyes. How can he say something like that so casually? This would basically be a confession from someone else, but sweet sentiments like this are a staple of Itadori’s lingo. It almost makes you want to scream. How can he be so amazing and dense at the same time?!

“Thank you… I really appreciate that.” Oh god, you feel like your heart is going to burst again. “A-Anyway, it’s getting late. I should head home before my parents start to worry.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

Yes. Absolutely. More than anything. “No, that’s okay. I know you still have to get back to your new school.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.” The smile on his face was adorable, and it almost made you crack. But no, you need some time alone to calm yourself down.

“I’m sure. My home isn’t far from here anyway.” You decide to indulge yourself and give him another hug before turning to go your separate way. “I’ll see you later. Bye, Yuji!”

Yuji holds his hand out toward you, and for a second you think he’s going to say something. But instead, he retracts his hand and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, see you later. Stay safe, (Y/N).”

A combination of disappointment and warmth fills your chest. His well wishes for you are nice, but you can’t help but be bummed that he didn’t say whatever was on his mind. It’s fine. You’re used to not getting exactly what you want from him. At least he’s still your friend despite the distance.

Walking home doesn’t take long, you weren’t lying when you said your home was nearby. But as you walk, you can’t shake off the feeling of being watched. You keep looking over your shoulder, hoping to see Yuji, but he isn’t there. No one is. It makes a chill run down your spine, prompting you to walk faster and hold your plush tighter. It’s nothing. You know it’s nothing, but that doesn’t make you any less creeped out.

Just as you make it home, your phone rings. Feeling like you’re safe now that you’re on the front steps, you slide your phone out of your pocket and check the caller ID. It’s Yuji!

Without waiting another second, you answer the call, “Yes?” Did that sound too eager? Probably. Too late to do anything about it now.

“Good, you answered.” Yuji sighs in relief and lets out an embarrassed chuckle, “Uh, I don’t suppose my wallet is still in your purse is it?”

Oh, that’s right! You offered to hold onto it for him after it flew out of his pocket while you two were playing DDR. As expected of him, Yuji got way too into it and his wallet got sent sailing through the air as a result of how hard he was dancing. “Hang on, let me check.” You hold your phone to your ear with your shoulder as you sift through your purse, “Yep! It’s right here.”

“Great, I’m glad I at least know where it is now. My bus pass is in there, so I’ll have to come get it from you. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Wait, I would feel bad making you walk all the way here and back. I’m home now, I’ll ask my dad if he can drive me there so you don’t miss the next bus.” Yuji starts to protest, but you silence him, “At least let me ask first. I’m sure my dad will be more than happy to help.”

You push open the door and get ready to call out to your father, but the words are knocked out of you. Something huge slams into your back, launching you through the air. You yelp from the surprise and pain of it all, then crash down onto the coffee table. It snaps under your weight, and you are left coughing and gasping for air after… an attack? What the hell was that?

“(Y/N)? What was that? Are you okay?” Yuji’s voice comes through your phone, and for a moment all you can think is that you’re amazed that you were able to hold onto it through that.

Before you can muster the strength to speak, you scream instead as something sharp sinks into your leg. You shriek and look down, finding blood pouring out of several holes in your leg and staining your sock, but- but nothing is there! You can feel something, but you don’t see anything!

More calls of your name ring through the home, this time from your parents. You don’t answer, you can’t. Whatever pierced your leg starts to move, and it’s strong! You continue to scream as you’re shaken violently, getting slammed into furniture and the floor by whatever has a hold of you. Your grip on your phone relinquishes, sending it flying away and into a wall as you’re flailed about.

“What’s going on?! What’s hurting her?! I don’t see anything!” Your mother sounds as confused as she does terrified. Her eyes dart all over the room, but she can’t see anything either. 

“Mom! Dad! Help me!” You wail and kick blindly with your free leg, and then you feel it. Your foot connects with something. Something is here, but why can’t you see it?!

Your father picks up the broken top of the coffee table, then slams it down over where your leg is bleeding from. Instead of hitting you, it stops about a foot above and breaks. Whatever was holding you lets go and appears to back up into the wall, making the framed photos fall off of it. A scratching noise cuts through the air, and when you follow them to the source, you see four sets of claw marks on the floor.

It’s when you look up that you start to get an idea of what attacked you. The thing is still invisible, but your blood is now staining its teeth. Several rows of long, razor sharp teeth glisten red, finally revealing something about what is in here with you.

“What the hell is that?” Your father looks dumbfounded, but he’s still clearly on high alert. He watches the dripping maw closely as it begins to move, circling to the right, blocking the pathway to the front door. “Get to our room and call for help! Now! I’ll hold this- this thing off!”

Mom didn’t need to be told twice. She had already been crouched down next to you when he gave the order. With a strength you didn’t think she possessed, your mom heaves you up onto her shoulder and runs.

The sound of scraped wood echoes through the house as the beast lunges at your father. He slams what remains of the piece of wood he was holding into what you assume is the face, but that’s the last thing you see before your vision is obscured by the walls encasing the staircase leading to the upstairs bedrooms. You want to cry out for your dad to come with you, but your voice fails you.

As soon as she makes it into the room, your mother locks the door and wedges a chair under the handle. You’re dropped onto the bed as she fumbles to get her phone out of her pocket and dial the right number, all the while looking over your wound.

It’s truly a sickening sight. The meat of your calf has been shredded from the monster that bit you. Is… Is that bone? You feel like you’re going to throw up or faint. Maybe both.

“We need help!” Your mother’s voice draws your attention away from the horrendous state of your leg. “Something broke into our home and attacked our daughter! I- I don’t know what! I couldn’t see it, but it bit my daughter and was throwing her around! She needs an ambulance, now! Hurry!”

Loud crashing and yelling is coming from outside of the room. It escalates to screaming, then cuts off abruptly into complete silence. No. No, no, no! This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening!

Your mother cries out her husband’s name, but there is no reply. “Oh god! Please hurry! I think it just killed my husband!”

Something heavy hits the door. Then again, each time harder than the last. The wood is starting to break, and the wall is cracking. It’s breaking down the door, and it feels almost certain that it’ll get through before help can arrive.

This is a fact that your mom seemingly also picked up on. She scoops you back into her arms and runs to the closet, sliding open the door and practically throwing you inside. She tightly clutches one of your hands in hers and holds your tear soaked face with the other, “Y-You need to stay quiet, okay? Don’t make a sound. I love you so much.”

She retreats and slides the door shut again before you can put together anything resembling a coherent thought, much less a sentence. No… Why is she doing this? She should be hiding too! Come back! Please come back!

The door to the bedroom gives in to the tremendous force of the monster outside of it and shatters. You can hear your mother let out a startled shriek, then a sob.

“P-Please… I don’t care what happens to me, just leave my baby alone! Don’t hurt her anymore, I’m begging you!”

There’s just enough of a gap in the closet door to let you peer through it. Part of you knows this is a bad decision. But you can’t bring yourself to look away. Remnants of the door crack and break under the weight of the blight attacking your family as it enters the room and encroaches on its prey. Your mother stumbles back and her phone is thrown at it in a last desperate attempt to ward it off.

When it finally steps into view, it’s covered in blood, and you instinctively know that it’s your father’s. The monster is almost as tall as your mother and quadrupedal. The mouth is disproportionately large, being almost as big as the misshapen head it’s a part of.

It corners your terrified mother, then attacks. She screams and tries to fend it off, but it bites into her arm and rips it from her body. Her wails of agony and fear make you begin to sob harder despite her pleas for you to keep quiet. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. That thing is going to kill her and then you, just like it did your father.

You tear your eyes away from the carnage just as your mother’s head starts to disappear into the razor sharp abyss. You can’t do it. You can’t watch. You know it’s over when her screams are cut short.

All you can do is sob as the beast approaches the closet. You don’t even attempt to move or defend yourself as the door is ripped out of its track, fully exposing you. There’s even more blood on it now. Worse yet, clumps of mom’s hair are wedged in between its teeth.

This is it. This is how you die. Massacred along with the rest of your family. At least you three won’t be separated for long. You stare in horror as it steps closer. You blink. Someone is over it. Then the monster is sent through the floor with the person you saw falling right with it.

What? Was that… pink hair? I- It can’t be…

A loud struggle is happening on the floor beneath you, but your brain is struggling to process it. It’s struggling to process any of this. You should be dead. Why aren’t you dead? You’re so numb to your surroundings that you don’t even notice when the fight stops. The only thing that tears you from your stupor is your name being called out.

After a few slow blinks, you focus your attention on the person in front of you. Yuji. It is Yuji. This doesn’t make any sense.

The complete lack of a response from you frightens him, and he shakes you, “Talk to me, (Y/N)! Please let me know that you’re okay!”

No. You’re not okay. Nothing is okay.

“Mom… Dad…” Your voice is hoarse and cracks with each word.

His expression becomes even more devastated. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry that I didn’t get here in time to save them.” He moves, then hugs you close to his chest, “But I saved you. I made it just in time to save you.”

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he is continuing to speak, but you don’t really hear any of it. It’s all a white noise to you. Why is this happening? Why are you still alive when your parents are dead? Viciously murdered by a thing that none of you could even truly see. Was this your fault? Did you unknowingly bring that thing home with you?

Itadori picks you up, but you just hang in his arms limply. The sound of sirens echoes in the distance. They’re far too late to be of any use now.

“I’m going to get you some help, but we can’t stay here. Just hang tight. You’re safe now.”

Safe? An invisible monster just murdered your whole family. You’re never going to feel safe again. But you don’t say any of this. You don’t have the strength, the will. You have nothing left, not anymore. What your friend does now is of no consequence to you. Nothing is.

You may have a pulse, but your life ended when your parents’ did.

[skullman2033]

Me when I’ve cleverly integrated myself into the ruling nobility of a newly established principality by stealing the identity of someone who looks exactly like me, killing him, becoming the principalities greatest mobile suit pilot to the degree that I’m practically a necessity to their war effort. Only to slowly and systematically kill all of them as an act of vengeance for my father. Including personally condemning the one that saw me as his best friend to a horrible death, with the last thing he hears being me telling him that if he’s upset about this, he should blame it on the misfortune of his own birth.

[thewhirlwindchronicles]

You just can say no can you?||Lando Norris x Oscar piastri

Summary|| Pickles gets a minor injury by being stung by a bee and Lando goes full-on dog dad mode, spoiling the pup with new toys and lots of treats.

Word count—1,492

A/n— thank you @checkeredflagggs for editing and beta reading this!

The sun was shining, the breeze was warm, it was the perfect day and Oscar found himself so close to drifting off to sleep on the picnic blanket that he and Lando laid out in the backyard for the little picnic the two of them had. His book was laid open on his stomach in favor of the perfect day of the mid-afternoon warmth. Beside him, Lando also lay on the blanket wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt – his eyes were closed and his hand was resting lazily on Oscar’s leg.

Pickle, their lovable chocolate brown Labrador retriever Oscar and Lando recently adopted, was living her best life running around the backyard – occasionally flopping down in the soft green grass and wiggling around in it.

Oscar cracked open one of his eyes when Pickles let out a high-pitched yip which he knew meant that she had found something she thought was interesting like that one time when she found and chased a little bunny in the backyard.

“She’s chasing something,” Oscar muttered to Lando.

Lando cracked a smile “Let her be, she's a puppy. She’s gonna chase things, it’s natural.”

Oscar sat up lightly smacking him on the shoulder, “Even if that something was a bee that could sting her,” Oscar finished telling him.

Lando sat up and looked at him and then at Pickle who was currently trying to eat the said ‘Bee in question.’

“Come on babe, Pickle might be dumb but she’s not that dumb-,” Lando started to say before he was cut off by Pickle letting out a loud yelp which turned into a whimper.

“Pickle!” Oscar shouted as she came trotting back, tail low confused and hurt. The side of her snout was starting to swell up.

“Oh no poor baby,” Oscar said as he knelt to get a better look at her face.

Lando who now has caught up with the situation gasped out an, “oh my god,” while trying not to laugh.

“Lando this isn’t funny don’t laugh,” Oscar scolded him with a glare.

“I’m not!” His voice cracked with the effort of holding it in. “But she looks like she got a bad lip injection.”

Oscar ignored him and turned his attention back to Pickle inspecting her snout. “It looks like she got stung. Poor baby.”

“You get her inside. I’ll clean up out here and then I’ll call the vet,” Lando said, picking up Oscar's book and the blanket.

Oscar nodded his head, then grabbed Pickle by the collar and walked her back towards the house. Once inside, Oscar grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight and sure enough there it was – the stinger of the bee that stung her.

Oscar felt Pickle squirm slightly as he knelt beside her gently cradling her snout. Her tail gave a half-hearted thump against the kitchen floor, a weak attempt at pretending she was fine.

“Oh baby you got yourself good didn’t you? Huh.” He whispered. Using the edge of his tweezers from the first aid kit, Oscar carefully removed the stinger. Pickles flinched and let out a yelp then she relaxed like the drama queen she was.

“I know I know life is painful, but that’s what you get for chasing and trying to eat bees, you dummy,” Oscar mumbled as he kissed the top of her head.

Right then Lando came hair tossed from the wind and his skin kissed by the sun, finishing up the phone call with the vet he set the blanket and Oscar’s book on the counter. “Alright sounds good then I’ll keep an eye on her thank you.” Lando said right before he hung up the phone.

“How’s our little warrior?” Lando asked softly, brushing a bit of dirt off of the Pickle's back.

“I got the stinger out and she’s being dramatic about it,” Oscar mumbles looking at Lando who was giving Pickle a treat.

“Can you blame her? Bee stings hurt.” Lando retorted, giving Pickle some love.

Oscar rolled his eyes at Lando. “Alright well what did the vet say?” Oscar asked, sitting on the couch watching Lando and Pickle play.

“She advised icing the area and monitoring for swelling; if it does swell, take Benadryl, and if that doesn’t help bring her in.” Lando clarified.

“Alright well I can get an ice pack and watch her, make sure she’s alright,” Oscar says as he walks into the kitchen to grab an ice pack.

By the time Oscar returned with the ice pack wrapped in a towel, Lando was already on the floor, Pickle stretched across his lap like she was always meant to be there with Lando baby talking to her and giving her treats.

“Whose daddy's brave little girl? You are. Fighting off the evil little bee threatening your territory.” Lando says in a ridiculous voice feeding her treats.

“She did this to herself, you know.” Oscar deadpanned, kneeling beside them.

Lando gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, and said, “How dare you look at her, she's traumatized, she was attacked by a bee.”

Oscar rolled his eyes again but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Here, hold her head still.”

Lando nodded and carefully steadied Pickle’s snout. She gave a tiny whine as Oscar gently applied the cool pack to the area to help prevent swelling. Her eyes fluttered closed, soaking up the attention like the little princess she was.

“See?” Lando whispered. “Such a brave girl. Strong. Resilient. A true inspiration.”

“She tried to eat a bee.”

“And survived,” Lando shot back. “That makes her a warrior.”

Oscar gave him a look. “Don’t you dare spoil her over this?”

Lando blinked. “Define ‘spoil.’”

Oscar rolled his eyes, “With new toys that she doesn’t need.”

Lando scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and said, “I swear I won’t buy her new toys…after tomorrow…I kinda already bought her a bunch of new toys and treats.”

Oscar sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lando Pickle is fine, she doesn’t need all these new toys or treats every time she has a minor injury.” He tells Lando.

Oscar let out another sigh and placed his hands on the sides of Lando’s face and kissed him softly before pulling away and saying, “Trust me Lando, Pickle knows you love her more than anything. Probably more than me but that’s okay because it’s you who said she’s your little girl and she knows you love her.”

“You promise?” Lando asked

“I promise,” Oscar reassured him one more time.

The next afternoon, Pickle’s snoot was almost back to normal, but that didn’t stop Lando from treating her like she was made of glass.

Oscar found him in the living room surrounded by chaos: an Amazon box was torn open on the floor, stuffing from a brand new plush toy already trailing under the coffee table, and Pickle sitting happily in the middle of it all—tail thumping as she gnawed on a squeaky hamburger.

“She’s recovering,” Lando said, as if that explained everything.

“She looks perfectly fine.”

“She’s emotionally scarred. This is healing.”

Oscar stepped around a brand new tug rope and eyed the treat bag on the couch. “Is this her third snack today?”

“Technically, fifth,” Lando said, looking over at him with a smile on his face.

Oscar strolled in with an unimpressed expression, glancing between the mess and Lando’s completely unapologetic face, “Dude. She got stung by a bee. She didn’t go to war.”

Lando sprawled on the floor next to Pickle, looking up with a serious expression. “She did go to war. With a flying weapon. And she survived so she deserves it,” Lando continued, now offering Pickle a tiny biscuit shaped like a duck. “She’s a warrior. Brave. Beautiful. Full of beans.”

“More like she’s full of treats,” Oscar muttered.

Lando gasped. “Don’t shame her for her recovery snacks.”

Pickle gave a happy little bark and tossed her hamburger toy across the room. Lando immediately crawled after it to fetch it for her.

Oscar leaned forward and mumbled under his breath, “He’s gone. There’s no saving him.”

He smiled as he watched Lando crawl back with the toy, hold it up proudly, and say in the most serious tone, “Your hamburger, m’lady.”

Oscar rolled his eyes and walked around the coffee table and sat down on the couch muttering something about Lando being a sucker under his breath. Lando climbed back onto the couch beside Oscar tugging Pickle into his lap like a very large baby. “Next week, I’m getting her a custom bed.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She already has a bed.”

He looked at Oscar like he didn’t understand. “Not a princess bed.”

Oscar shook his head, “You just can say no to her can you?” He teased Lando.

“Nope, she is my little girl and I love her,” Lando says softly, kissing Pickle on her head.

[sharkwidow]

Baking Cookies | Wanda Maximoff

ᯓ★Summary: As the daughter of Tony Stark, you try to help Wanda bake cookies using your own ingenious methods, but things don't go as planned.

ᯓ★Setting: A quiet afternoon at the Avengers compound.

ᯓ★Content warning:None

ᯓ★Word count:1,200 words

---

The kitchen is alive with the comforting scents of sugar, vanilla, and butter as you stand beside Wanda, your hands dusted with flour. You're attempting, with varying degrees of success, to help her bake cookies. Wanda seems so calm and collected, a sharp contrast to your usual need to tinker and complicate things. You’re trying, but the chaos of your mind constantly drifts toward new ways to make this process better—or at least faster.

"Okay, so if I use the suit's repulsor beams to heat the dough more evenly, we can speed this up, right?" you ask, already stepping back toward the table, ready to get your suit involved.

Wanda gives you an amused look, her eyes twinkling with both affection and concern. "You really want to use your suit to bake cookies?" she asks, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“I mean, why not? It’s just a little heat,” you reply, trying to sound convincing as you reach for the gauntlet on the counter.

"You’ve got that look in your eyes—the one where you think you can fix everything with technology," Wanda says, still laughing. "Sweetheart, let's not turn this into another science experiment. The oven works just fine. Why don’t you let me handle this?"

You shrug, reluctantly pulling your suit back from the counter. "Fine. But if they burn, I’m blaming you," you tease.

Wanda chuckles and begins carefully shaping the cookie dough into little rounds on the tray. "Oh, I’m sure they’ll turn out just fine without the need for any high-tech solutions."

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips as you watch her. Her movements are so graceful, so unhurried. It’s a stark contrast to the constant rush of your thoughts, the need to always be doing something faster or better.

You try to help, grabbing a spoon and scooping some dough, but as you make the move, you accidentally drop some onto the counter, making a little mess.

Wanda looks over, her eyebrow raising slightly. “You’ve got to be a little more careful, sweetheart. It’s not like building a suit—you can’t just throw things together and hope for the best.”

“I’m trying,” you grumble, wiping up the mess with a cloth, trying to hide the frustration creeping up on you. It’s clear Wanda has this under control and you’re struggling to keep up.

But you don’t give up. As the dough rests on the counter, you get an idea. The oven timer is set, but you’re sure you could get the cookies to cook faster with a little help from your suit.

"Okay, fine. I’m doing it my way," you mutter, your fingers already working to activate the suit's systems.

Before Wanda can stop you, you’re standing by the oven, using your repulsor beams to try and heat the dough evenly. The heat from your suit blasts out, but instead of the cookies baking perfectly, a faint burnt smell starts to fill the room. You glance down, and your heart sinks.

You quickly check the oven, but the damage is done—the cookies are charred beyond recognition.

"Uh, Wanda?" you call, feeling a little guilty. "I think I might’ve, uh, overheated them..."

Wanda turns around, and before she can even speak, she catches a whiff of the disaster. She bursts out laughing, the sound so light and carefree. "Sweetheart, I told you not to use your suit," she says, shaking her head with a smile. "It’s not a baking tool."

You let out a frustrated sigh, scratching the back of your neck. "I didn’t mean to burn them. I thought I could speed it up, but... I guess I got carried away."

Wanda, still chuckling softly, walks over to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "It’s okay. We’ll just start over." She reaches into the fridge and pulls out another batch of dough she had prepared earlier. “I made a backup. You can’t rush perfection, you know."

You blink, surprised. "Wait, you had another batch ready?"

"Of course," she replies with a wink. "I’ve learned from experience that things don’t always go according to plan. And I know your father’s tendency to, well, experiment."

You grin sheepishly, feeling a little better. “I guess I got that from him.”

“You did,” Wanda says with a small, affectionate smile. “And that’s why I love you.”

She quickly sets the new dough onto the tray and places it in the oven, giving you an encouraging nod. "This time, let’s just let things take their time. No shortcuts."

You nod, feeling a little humbled by her patience and the calmness she brings to the situation. "Alright, no more tech experiments. I’ll stick to the old-fashioned way."

The cookies bake in peaceful silence, and you can’t help but notice how comforting the process is when you’re not trying to rush through it. Wanda’s calm presence makes everything seem easier, even when things don’t go according to plan. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the simple way is the best way.

The oven timer dings, and Wanda carefully pulls out the tray of cookies, their golden edges and soft centers perfect this time. You grin, knowing you’re going to get to enjoy them without any disasters this time.

“Much better,” you say, looking at her with a satisfied smile.

Wanda smiles back, her eyes soft with affection. "See? Sometimes, it’s just about letting things unfold, not forcing them."

You reach for one of the cookies and take a bite, savoring the warm sweetness. "I think I’m starting to understand. No more high-tech baking experiments for me."

Wanda laughs again, the sound warm and light. She steps closer, gently brushing some stray flour off your cheek. "Good. But you still get to help clean up."

You groan dramatically, but it’s hard to stay upset when you’re with her. Her laughter is infectious, and as you both sit down to enjoy the cookies together, you realize that even the simplest moments—like baking cookies and laughing together—are the ones that make you feel truly at home.

"Next time," you say, a playful grin on your face, "I’ll make sure I don’t burn them."

Wanda smiles at you, her eyes full of warmth. "I’m looking forward to it."

And as you finish your cookies together, you realize that no matter what happens, the best part of this was simply being here, with her, in this quiet moment.

[neontokyoo]

Ooh can I request a tavstarion one shot?? F!Tav and Astarion are married and at a party to celebrate the heroes of Baldurs gate. Tav keeps getting hit on all night and Astarion decides he has to do something about it 🤔 Completely open to your interpretation, NSFW or not!!

This one took a while, I apologize for the wait!

Pairing: Astarion x F!Tav Genre: I actually don't know Summary: It's been a few weeks since the events of the game, and Tav and Astarion are now happily married. But when they get invited to a party celebrating the Heroes of Baldur's Gate, Astarion finds it difficult to control himself. Warnings: none

Like this post? Feel free to join my community!

Have something on your mind? Don't hesitate to send a request!

It’s been a couple weeks since everything went down. The Absolute was no more, the illithids weren’t terrorizing the city—or anyone else—anymore, and everyone who was infected with the tadpoles were now cured. But this didn’t mean it was over.

Within these short couple of weeks, Tav and Astarion had finally gotten married, and they now lived together in a cute little house in the city. They were enjoying their new life, free from past worries, and the chaos of the world. But while their adventure was over, it still hadn’t completely vanished. People were still talking about it, still celebrating, and still bombarding the group of adventurers that had saved the city.

And now, they were all at a party they didn’t want to be at. A party made specifically for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. And we’re not just talking about the certain group of adventurers that saved the city, but anyone who had done something in their lifetime to help protect the city and the people inside of it. Which meant there were a lot more people there than the couple was expecting.

Tav was trying her best to enjoy the party, the company, the music, the food. Whether she wanted to be there or not, she was always going at finding the best in the worst situations.

Astarion, however, was not a fan. It felt as if all eyes were on his wife, the brave, talented hero who saved them all. It made the vampire sick. Though, he couldn’t blame them, as his wife was a sight for sore eyes, who had somehow managed to make a place for herself in his undead heart. But every flirtatious remark from strangers, every glance, it all seemed to irritate the elf.

He tried his best to not get in the way of his wife. She had every right to socialize and have fun. But he had finally lost control when someone decided to really try flirting with Tav. The way they looked at her, the way their voice sounded sweet as honey, the way they shook her hand. He knew it all too well. After spending two centuries manipulating people with his honeyed words and lots of practice in the art of seduction, Astarion knew what it was like to be really flirting with someone. And the vampire had no doubt that this was exactly what the stranger was doing.

The vampire slowly started to make his way towards his wife, trying his best to hide the nasty scowl that was trying to take over his face. He could hear it more clearly now, and it was more than enough to make his blood boil.

“I must say, Tav, it’s quite an honor to finally meet the famous heroic adventurer in all her glory,” said the stranger with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I mean, it’s not every day you meet someone as charming as yourself.”

Tav, finally processing what the stranger was trying to do, was starting to grow just a little bit uncomfortable. But a feeling of relief had washed over her when she saw her husband coming closer.

She mustered a fake, but genuine-looking smile. “The pleasure is all yours.”

And it didn’t take long until Astarion showed up. The vampire kept his unbothered façade as he held Tav’s hand. “I apologize, but it’s been a pleasure to meet you,” he said to the stranger with a voice that seemed genuinely sweet, but he and Tav both knew that it was dripping with venom, “but I’m afraid my dear, sweet, wife of mine and I have other business to attend to.”

Before neither the stranger nor Tav could say anything, Astarion had pulled his lover into a short, yet somewhat passionate kiss. Nothing to scandalous, and nothing to draw any unwanted attention, but enough to show the stranger who Tav truly belonged to. He wasn’t even hiding his hatred as he shot the stranger a nasty look during the kiss, earning a look of disgust and anger from the man.

Tav on the other hand, had no idea what to say, as it all had happened so quickly and she wasn’t sure what was going on. Once they broke the kiss, the couple watched the stranger walk away until he was lost in the crowd.

“Well, looks like someone was jealous,” Tav said teasingly, gently jabbing the rogue in his side.

Astarion smiled slightly as he met his wife’s gaze. “Not jealous, darling,” he corrected her. “I was simply just making a statement.”

[aleksa-sims]

RL Story

CW: adult-themed/topic

After the party at N.’s Mom, N., P., and I went out with Ana and her boyfriend. That was a month ago! A lot has happened the last 4 weeks, but actually it all started that day/night, at N’s Mom's.

What exactly happened or what N. and I did, will clarify itself as you read on. However, just 2 days after this party/night, N had to go back to Italy, to play soccer. He was only here for 10 days and most of that time, we were fighting about this stupid thing with Bianca. After N. was gone, I thought he would come back home after a week or so, but as I said, it’s been over a month since he left.

This week Philip was often with me. I took a prep course for my exam because I was on leave and missed a lot. The whole thing took about 2 weeks. The first week my Mom took care of my son and this week Philip helped me. Today was my last day. When I came home, Philip noticed that I was sad, or in a bad mood?

Philip: Did you have trouble studying?

Me: No, it was all fine. And thanks for your help, P.

Philip: Are you still upset about Nico’s departure?

Me: Hm... I guess.🤷‍♀️

Philip: Why can't you just let things be?.. Sure, life sucks sometimes, but.... you're exaggerating, A.! If you continue like this, you will force Nico to choose between you and his soccer career. And believe me, no matter what he decides,...that would be the end of your relationship.

Me: You can’t tell me how to feel!!! What's wrong with you? I will not force N. to stop playing soccer! I LOVE him! I want him to be happy! But you, don't get it, P.! You have no idea what it feels like to truly love someone. 😒

Philip: I am not gonna listen to this shit!! ... Why aren’t you being honest?... Come on! Tell me why you’re really so pissed.... You blame me for what happened between us. Right? 🤨

Me: I-.... I just don't get it?? 😫 Why did we do that? I mean.... Nico and I were drunk but you weren’t, and yet, you.... just slept with me! 🤦‍♀️

Philip: Now listen to me! I know, the truth is not always pleasant. THIS time A., it was not Nico and me, who wanted to shag you! It was the other way around. You, made it all happen!!

Me: I remember what I did and how it happened that we ended up in bed!! I did it for N.!! ... After our fight with Bianca, Nico and I made up, but.... N. didn’t sleep with me anymore. I thought maybe he still doesn’t want me after all? And a few days later at his Mom's we got drunk, bcs we wanted to do something crazy together. And later when we were with Ana in this club, Nico wanted me to do what he wants me to do, so I did it. He told me to hit on you. I wanted to please him and it was fun to do what he asked. Bcs we were both wasted!!! But you weren’t!! You should have just dropped us off at home and left right away. But you have decided otherwise.

Philip: That's not fair!!! He wanted us both to fuck you. He said.... you deserve it. He was mad! But you didn’t get it A.!! You didn’t stop! I even told you myself, but you still didn’t let go of me! He just wanted to see how serious you are about being his slave.

Me: Exactly! And yet you joined in!!!.....But okay! Sorry, you’re right! It’s not fair to blame only you. Nico and I wanted it! Anyway, I don’t want it to be like it was 4 years ago. I’ve been thinking about it the last few days and... I remembered how I felt then. I was so desperate... I don’t want to lose you P. You're one of my best friends. But right now, I really just need a little bit of space... I hope you’re not mad at me or misunderstand me, I just need to... get a way from here for a while.

Philip: Where are you off to? 🤨

Me: Um... My parents have 2 weeks off. They asked me if Lucas and I want to go on vacation with them. I’ve talked to N. about it. He doesn’t know when he can come home yet? Maybe he’ll join us later? Idk?

Philip: Go for it, A.! ... I also need some distance so.... I'm leaving now.

Me: I understand that. But.... are we okay?

Philip: I think that depends on you. As far as I’m concerned, everything’s fine.

Nothing was fine!

Previous/Next

[azaharinflames]

Can I confess something? I’m kinda scared of reconciliation and not because of the reasons you think.

I love our part of fandom, but sometimes we can be a little intense. Someone has a take, another person has a take on that take, than another a take on that take of the take (like we are still discussing who’s more to blame in the 8x06/8x11). And honestly it sucks all of the joy of the ship that mean so much to me. And the easiest thing is to step down, but I like gifs, edits, fics, silly funny horny headcanons, interesting metas.

But I can just feel it like whatever goes not the way people want and headcanon, the heads will roll. Instead of writing fix it’s, or headcanong that the conversation they wanted happened off screen there will be bickering and angry rant posts about takes. And there’s no way to filter that.

Maybe I’m doomspiriling before time but it’s just something that bugs me. I just wanna have fun and not fight.

Feel free to confess, Nonnie <3

Though I have to disagree with you. Partly. Because, at least from what I see, we usually take canon and are grateful for it. When have we ever made it so bad that heads were rolling? Yeah, we can have takes that differ from one another, and we can disagree on plenty of stuff, but just based on how we've dealt with things in the past, what makes you think this will be the time where we turn on each other and go the angry rant way?

I don't mean to sound bitchy, Nonnie. But Bobs did say that we'd be bickering and turning on each other post 806. We didn't do that. They said we'd be deactivating and fighting each other post-811. We didn't do that. We created discourse, theorised on what could happen next, and wrote a ton of fix-its. So. Genuine question. Why would this time be any different?

I undertand the negativity and the doomspirling these past few days have been hard, and I understand the anxiety that may cause. But this is indeed building on it, and assuming that we'll do a 180 when it comes to discourse and fandom space.

Breathe in, Nonnie. Things won't be like you are imagining. And if you are struggling with this, this much, my best advice is for you to check who is posting the discourse you find interesting, and that doesn't trigger you, and follow them. Follow all of the accounts that make you feel good, and just check those, and not the main tag. And whenever you feel like you can check the main tag again, then do that.

But remember. We are not Bobs. So don't be scared that we'll act like them <3

[fruitless-vain]

Oh boy, oh oh oh boy.

You are actually not going to believe the fact that /I/ had to convince Jack to take a step back and breathe before making any rash decisions.

So where do we start here. Uh.

Hmm

So BIL is jacks supervisor at work, he lives with MIL typically. He thought it was appropriate to confront her right before her shift starts. He decided to berate her, tell her she was picking me over them (she literally was doing the opposite), blame her for everything that’s ever gone wrong in their family, and then proceed to say that she *did not care about him having heart surgery* (for context her grandfather suddenly died and his funeral was back in BC (we are in MB) the exact day of his surgery, she had asked him if he was comfortable with her [and MIL!] going or if he wanted their support, he said he was fine with it. I ended up being the one caring for him, taking him to surgery, and doing all the post op care)

He then followed through by saying some delightfully choice words about me, comparing me to Jamie (the ex that forced Jack to isolate from her family) and so on.

He brought the death of their dad in to it (she was very much like dads princess sort of relationship, very tight knit, he is irreplaceably important to her, he was run over by a train as a pedestrian. It was a sudden and unexpected, brutal death) I don’t recall the specifics of what was said but it was damaging.

Her and BIL have been tight for life, they have their fights but they’ve been through hell and back together forever. Nothing could really break their bond as far as I have ever known.

He said that both he and MIL agree on everything he’s said. He pit them both against her and tried to pit her against me.

What was said/ done was so severe that I picked Jack up from work, dead silent. I ask if she’s okay, and she broke down. I had to find a parking lot to pull over to console her and talk out what just happened to her (god knows our house is not a safe space for this right now). All I did was listen and comfort, I said next to nothing.

She wants to cut them both out, change her cellphone plan, delete the Netflix, and cease contact completely. She wanted to come home and kick MIL to curb but I did chime in here and say we should at least wait until morning, let the feelings settle, think things through and then decide what the best course of action is.

All of this, falling apart, because of offering MIL a place to stay during a crisis. All of this because MIL couldn’t be a respectful houseguest for two weeks. All of this. Destroyed. For past traumas they can’t let go of. All of this? Shoving her away in the name of what? Being afraid that I’m taking her away?

There’s so much more to say here, so much more to defend and argue. But all I’m left with here is bewilderment.

If she does go through with this I’m going to be in for a world of damage, I will 100% be blamed for her making this decision - to be clear I am totally okay with that. We know the truth and don’t need to justify it to comfort them. I back my wife with whatever choice she makes here. But things will definitely get rough.

[isalisewrites]

I just read your addition to another persons ask where you said the Harry Potter fandom not being responsible for JRK bullshit and honestly thank you.

I am so freaking exhausted of having to defend myself for finding comfort in a fandom that has been with me since I was a kid. Just because I’m not burning the books I bought 20 years ago doesn’t mean I support anything about her now.

She has her billions. Even if no one on earth bought another Harry Potter thing again. She would still have it. Whether or not I read fanfiction or watch movies I already own make zero difference.

You said it better than I ever could. But One day she will be dead and gone. And no one will care. But Harry Potter will still be around. Because it and its community is bigger and better than JKR will ever be.

Anyway. Just wanted to say that. It felt good to read something other than hate for HP again. If you would be up for talking without the anonymity let me know?

*huggles*

I’m just as weary, too, sweetie.

“There’s no ethical consumption of Harry Potter.”

Let’s be brutally realistic here. If you’re not living off grid in the woods where you’re 100% self sufficient with growing your own food, making your own clothes, drawing up well water, generating your own power, and buying nothing, then you’re not living ethically either. If you’re getting a Starbucks, then guess what? You’re supporting genocide. McDonalds? Yup, genocide. Going to Target? Uh oh, you’re supporting racism and sexism.

The reality is there is no ethical consumption under CAPITALISM.

There are literally hundreds of companies that support Israel’s genocide of Gaza and hundreds who financially supported Trump. I wonder how many companies supported UK’s ultra conservative politics. It’s not just JKR, I can promise you that.

It’s impossible for the average person to avoid every company. You have to buy food. You have to buy essentials. You have to buy gas if you use a car to get to work. 

You have to survive.

It’s not our fault these greedy companies support the politics that preserve their power and their ability to make more and more money. JKR is a drop in the bucket of hate. She is one of MANY. Where the UK’s fucking 900 paged manifesto of hate? The American Project 2025 that’s currently being pushed by the Trump party wants to make it so that the mere appearance of wearing clothes that don’t align with your birth sex equate to pornography.

And then they want to make pornography a federal crime.

But I understand. We all feel powerless. So, what people do to give themselves power is they target someone easy. Instead of going after the roots of the problem, they attack the budding flowers on the tree. 

I’m aggrieved for UK’s transpeople. I’m devastated for them. But it’s bad everywhere and we’re not to blame for the actions of our government leaders. We can vote. We can protest. We can spend our money in the right places as best as possible. A storm is likely coming, but it’s not our fault. Evil people are in power. The wealth imbalance is astronomical. The world is controlled by oligarchs and there isn’t a ton that we can do, except survive and try to spend less money overall. 

In the end, I cope by taking these characters and creating something beautiful. Terrible, But Great is about love and redemption. Elysium’s Sanctuary is about love and healing. TBG contains my soul, while ES contains my broken heart. Badger Prey and Moon Rite are also about love; they're written to shake off the chains of purity culture. All of these stories are precious to me.

I’d hope that in a hundred years, there will still be readers discovering Harry Potter fanfics. Someone years to come will read our works and be touched by our words, both our stories and our author’s notes. JKR will go down in history as a woman who used her influence for terrible things while the Harry Potter fandom will stand as a beacon who rose above her. 

What she hates, we celebrate. We protect. 

Yes, you are absolutely free to DM me. Anyone can. Just DM me with more than a Hi, haha. Otherwise, I won't know it's more than a random bot or something.

I know it’s so very hard to maintain hope in these times. I keep having to repeat to myself, "Show me how good it can get." Even when it feels like everything is falling apart. Instead of falling into despair, I pour my soul into writing for both my own healing and the healing of others.

Spread love, not hate. And when you can, create. Keep trying. <3 Because it’s worth more than all of the combined wealth in the world.

Isa

[myokk]

“She’s tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”😤😤😤

(Regency AU with Eloise and Sebastian inspired by my slow trek through Bridgerton these days & @bassicallymaestra ‘s AMAZING regency inspired art😮‍💨😇🙏)

[unordinaries]

unordinary 340 spoilers

so i’ve been thinking about it and on one hand, isen suggesting they leave john and run is a pretty sobering moment because he really is just clinging to the first real opportunity he has to protect his best friends who won’t stop getting into situations where he quite literally can’t but on the other hand it is also kinda like. (gently grabs isen by the shoulders) hey man. we saw valerie’s level. i think you’re gonna need that guy later

[concrete-3ater]

if I had a nickel for every time I was in a fandom and a child character had a breakdown and did something that accidentally hurt another character, and then the fandom all turned on the character and vilified them because they [the fandom] can’t understand that sometimes 14 year olds make mistakes when they’re going through something traumatic, I would have 2 nickels

not a lot but it really is weird it happened twice