#but i found this expression especially funny

[22ayla21]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Dan Heng x reader family headcanons or fic? I know in one post you said that, due to Dan Heng's lore and such, he couldn't biologically have a kid, but can maybe adopt or maybe have an inseminated baby, like either by a sperm donor or a person they know and trust? Either way, I just think he would be a good dad and have cute but funny shenanigans, also be a giant bookworm and read the kid stories and such. Also would be a little protective of both his kid and wife.

Under the Dragon's Wing

Trying to leave his past behind, Dan Heng found on the Astral Express not just a home, but also a family: a beloved woman and an adopted son.

From Author: In this fic, I've combined three requests. Screenshots of the other two will be below.

Life aboard the Astral Express was always about movement. Planets whizzed by the windows, Dan Heng delved into new data in the archives, March 7 incessantly clicked her camera, capturing another adventure, Pom-Pom habitually grumbled at Caelus, and Welt and Himeko discussed the route, knowing that every journey changed them. No one could have imagined that one day the Express would become not just a means of transport, but a true home—warm, full of children’s laughter and whispered bedtime stories.

It didn't happen immediately.

They found the boy on a forgotten planet. A dusty, abandoned orphanage where children were more like numbers in reports than living souls. Dan Heng's beloved was the first to notice him. He sat in a corner, clutching a ragged doll, of which only half remained. Dark eyes meticulously followed every movement, but he didn't cry. He didn't call out. He just… watched. Silently, as if he had long understood there was no one to call.

"Name?" The caretaker merely shrugged. "No one gave him one. He… just exists. Has been silent since he was found. Strange, not like the others. As if he understood too much, even before he learned to speak."

The boy sat, huddled, as if trying to become invisible. His thin fingers clutched an old, barely-holding-together doll—the last remnant of something that could once have been called "care." His eyes—large, dark, terrifyingly adult for a child—met Dan Heng's.

And in that moment, time stood still.

Not a single muscle twitched on Dan Heng's face, but inside, everything clenched. His heart, accustomed to restraint, was squeezed by pain and anger. Not fiery anger—no. This was a cold, conscious anger. The kind that makes you make decisions that change destinies.

He approached slowly, without haste, and knelt down. His voice was quiet, but firm, like a promise carved in stone: "I am Dan Heng. And this is my beloved."

He extended his hand. Not intrusively. Just… openly. "You are not alone. Do you want to come with us? Home?"

The boy remained silent. His eyes didn't waver, but something flickered in them—a tiny spark, a faint glimmer of hope. His lips trembled slightly, and his fingers, clutching the doll until his knuckles ached, slowly unclasped. The doll slipped and fell silently to the floor.

He didn't say a word. He simply reached forward and placed his tiny hand in Dan Heng's large, warm hand, and then in his woman's hand.

The answer was clearer than words.

The adoption process took time. The Express crew, upon learning of their decision, didn't ask a single unnecessary question—only offered support, only warmth. Welt and Himeko helped with the legal nuances, and March 7 immediately began brainstorming ideas for decorating the room.

The boy's room appeared next to theirs—with built-in lighting, soft panels, children's toys, and a bookshelf that Dan Heng personally began filling. He sought out the best editions of fairy tales—from Luofu, Jarilo-VI, and even rare translations from the languages of forgotten civilizations.

It wasn't easy for them.

At first, the boy, whom they named Yang Ming, didn't speak. He rarely ate, often woke up at night, and didn't trust easily. He was especially afraid of loud voices. Dan Heng and his beloved, though accustomed to difficulties, found themselves facing a new challenge—parenthood. The responsibility was different, almost sacred.

Initially, Dan Heng was afraid to touch the boy. Not because he didn't want to, but because… he didn't believe he could give enough warmth. But the child, despite everything, reached out to him himself.

"Are you a dragon?" he whispered one day, burying his face in his father's shoulder.

"Yes," he replied, and gently ran his fingers through his hair. "But first of all, I am your dad."

From that day on, Yang Ming would only fall asleep in Dan Heng's embrace, demanding that he read him stories. His favorite was the ancient tale of the Azure Dragon. The boy asked him to tell it again and again, and each time he looked at Dan Heng with admiration, as if he himself were the hero from the legend.

Over time, the boy began to laugh. First shyly, then loudly. He ran around the carriage, chased March 7th and Pom-Pom, made paper ships with Caelus, and confidently asked Himeko for another pastry in the dining car. Welt (like a true grandpa) lectured him on history, and then cut out a cardboard model of the Express that he himself had drawn.

When mom and dad wanted to be alone—even just to drink tea and hug in silence—their friends happily took Yang Ming under their wing. No one grumbled. On the contrary, it seemed everyone felt part of something bigger. A family.

Dan Heng and his beloved themselves changed. Before, he could sit in the archives for hours, forgetting to eat or sleep. Now, time spent with his son became more important than any ancient manuscripts or data. He learned to comb hair, fix broken toys, and even once put on a show with cardboard decorations, where he himself played a mischievous wind spirit (March 7, giggling, filmed it from around the corner).

He didn't stop being a protector. But now his water, his wind, his spear—everything was for the sake of his family. For them, he would fight any monster, would return even from the farthest stars.

"Are you afraid of anything, Dad?" Yang Ming asked one day, sitting on his lap.

"Only one thing," Dan Heng replied, and looked at his beloved sitting beside him. "Losing what I love."

The boy hugged his neck tighter. "Me too."

One evening, when even more stars than usual were visible outside the Astral Express's windows, and the scent of cocoa hung in the air, the crew gathered around the large round table.

Yang Ming, covered in confetti and wearing a wreath of artificial flowers, danced joyfully, celebrating the anniversary of his "family day."

"This is better than a birthday!" he shouted happily. "Because on this day, I found Mom and Dad!"

And truly—it was the day his heart found a home.

And Dan Heng… he quietly watched his beloved and son, his gaze soft, full of tenderness and peace.

He knew he had made many mistakes. That in the past, he was one who brought storms. But here, in this present, he had become one who brought light.

A dragon reading bedtime stories to his son. A guardian protecting his family. A man who had found the right to be happy.

And though the stars changed outside the window, one shone brightest in his heart. The one called home.

[keii-8]

we can’t be friends | dorian x m!reader

pairing: dorian (date everything) x m!reader

summary: dorian valued friendship more than love, and you couldn't help but respect him for that. that's why you wanted to be his friend in this house full of dateables. little did he know his friendship can blossom into something he never expects.

warnings: friends to lovers, slight angst(?), confessions, men loving men. grammatical errors, english is not my first language. fem!readers dni.

a/n: feel free to let me know what you feel about this oneshot, i don't play the game because i'm broke as hell. i would watch streams instead to study this door. enjoy!

Meeting Dorian for the first time was nerve-wracking.

Skylar insisted that you should talk to one of your doors or any doors around the house to demonstrate how the dateviators work. She didn't even give you the time to mourn over your job being replaced by artificial technology. On literally your first day of work.

But, dateviators? Silly, right? The ability to speak to objects was impossible, let alone date them. You were skeptical at first, but you then decided to give it a shot. It's not every day to receive something like this anyway.

That's how you immediately came face to face with his cold expression and stern eyes. Your door. The very same door that you bought while renovating this house and claim it as yours. 

You were sure you're still in the comforts of your home. 

However, the tall stranger before you was entirely different. He looked like a door, your front door, but… humanized? How in the world. The stranger was clad in black with the edges of his jacket looking like doorframe pillars, and he was wearing a doorknob watch too. He was guarding the door like a stern bouncer, and it seems that he already is one.

“No funny business. I don't want to see those spectacles of yours being used for something untoward.”

You almost held a hand on your chest in shock. Why in the world does your door have a deep, British accent?

He watched you with such intensity that you wanted to shrink away, but you didn't. You stood your ground. This was your door for heaven's sake. Before something escalated, Skylar managed to step in-between you, giving Dorian her salutations.

“Hey, Dorian! Trust me, this is going to go super well!” She beamed, she was rather excited in contrast to Dorian's expression.

There was a smirk on his lips as his eyes flickered from her to you. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'm still… trying to comprehend what's going on.” You shrugged. Feeling a tad bit small under his scrutinizing gaze.

How did everything end up like this?

However, it's been a week since your first introductions. Not only to the door but your phone, magnifying glass, and bed as well. You can still remember your embarrassment when you found out you were sleeping on a beautiful woman this entire time. One of the inanimate people who have seen you in your vulnerable moments.

But Betty, the sweetheart she is, assured you that she was fine by it. Thank goodness.

You've learned quite a lot of things over the week. About the dateviators, and Dorian especially. The sole authority of the house that ensures nothing bad will happen under his watch. Keeping the good ones in, and the bad ones out. 

It wasn't a surprise when you learned he's a big defender of friendship and treasures it instead of love. 

That's because, to him, love is the center of all conflicts.

Honestly, you highly respected his philosophy. It also makes sense. After all, he's a door. If you put it metaphorically as a self-insert writer, doors meant he wasn't the open type. You speculated that he's a closed door who conceals a vulnerable part of himself. Hence, his guarded personality.

Not only that, but he gives it his all to protect everyone in the house and that includes you. How can you not respect him?

You have never looked someone in high regard before, and you're glad it was Dorian. That's when you started to respect his boundaries and decided to be his friend. He wasn't against the idea of course, it was his intention from the start and you've never been more glad.

“The neighbor's dog pissed on your lawn again.” In a gruff voice, he raised a brow at the said owner and dog that walked by your house. As if they hadn't done anything wrong. 

“What?! Again?” You popped beside him and looked out the window.

He nodded. “It’s the third time this week. I kept my count.”

“I might have to take care of that before my lawn smells.” You dragged your hand across your face, face-palming. “Thanks, anyways.”

Dorian snickered when your shoulders sagged and took the dateviators off, a groan leaving your lips. You spent most of your afternoon trying to clean the lawn and save it from the smell of dog piss. Meanwhile, Dorian was enjoying your struggle and groans of complaints like a good friend he is.

“I know you're laughing at me, Dorian!” 

For once, the door chuckled. All because of your misery.

There was one thing you didn't realize though, and it happened when you're trying to take a shower. Your day proceeds like any other day, either after or before the dateviators. Although, after knowing that everything in the house is sentient, you became quite self-conscious of yourself.

You would often hesitate to use one of them. Either you're eating or sleeping, and anything else. Your daily business in the bathroom is probably the most vulnerable state that you would expose yourself to. 

You hoped Johnny wouldn't mind you showering, since cleaning around the house was causing you to break a sweat.

Which leads you to enter the ground floor bathroom, your towel in hand and some other toiletries that you picked from upstairs. Johnny already has most of them so you don't have to fret for anything. 

You stripped and pulled your shirt off of you first. You can't understand why you struggled for a moment once the hem went over your head, but you paid it no mind. You neatly fold your shirt and set it aside from getting it wet. You can already feel the bathroom chill on your exposed torso.

“Are you forgetting something?” You heard Dorian's gruff voice by the door and you let out a noise of confusion.

“Forgetting what?” Dorian seems to catch your clueless head and nods at the shower stall at the corner. You follow him, and see Johnny leaning to his mic with a smirk on his lips. Confused, you turned to Dorian again to ask for his help. 

The door can almost see the question marks starting to pop above you.

He raised a brow. You raised yours.

“Wh-? Oh… Oh!”

Embarrassment immediately flooded your senses and you flush. You didn't even realize that you still had the dateviators on. It makes sense when you're struggling to pull your shirt off earlier.

“Wow, I didn't even notice!” You sheepishly scratched your neck and Dorian seemed pleased when you finally did. The dateviators had become your eyes at this point for how much you spent time with it and the others.

“I don't mind sharing the moment with you, sweet papa! But I wouldn't want to spoil your fun. Uh-huh!” You turned to Johnny who offered you a wink as you thanked him with a light chuckle.

“Thanks for letting me know.” You beamed and Dorian nodded in response.

“Of course. I am the ground floor bathroom door after all. Do enjoy.”

His exact words kept replaying in your mind that day, and despite failing to notice the dateviators during that interaction, you did realize something else instead. 

It was Dorian, and the many Dorians around the house. The bathrooms, the front door, the back door, and so much more. Just how many doors does the house have again?

“I kinda forgot…” You muttered under your breath. Deep in thought.

This led you to come up with a mission. It was to interact with every version of Dorian around the house at all costs. Oh, you couldn't wait to make fun of him after he enjoyed your suffering. The smell of dog piss actually lingered on your arm for a couple of hours that day and you can really feel the intense smirk he gave you from his hinges.

It wouldn't hurt to have some fun.

The other day arrived, and front Dorian seemed to notice a little bounce on your step than usual. He wondered what got you excited but unbeknownst to him, it wasn't what he had in mind.

“Running off, are we?” He asked once you came down the stairs. He wanted to ask if you're spending the time with the others. Obviously you would, of course. He just wanted to be subtle.

“That's because I have a mission to do.” You grinned in playful smugness. A dramatic hand was on your chest.

He raised a brow. “Oh yeah? Do tell, friend.”

“That's the point… I can't tell you!” You waved a hand dismissively and let a chuckle escape you. “See you later, Dorian!”

With that, Dorian watched with a raised brow as you stormed off in a hurry to the kitchen. You seemed so enthusiastic about your mission, and he just hoped you won't get into trouble.

Little did he know, he could already feel a small twinge forming in his chest.

You immediately found the difficulty of meeting the other Dorians since you only get to meet them once a day. However, you didn't bother to stop, rather, it excites you even more to see his various forms.

It was actually a fun and exciting experience than what you've imagined. It's as if all of them were one and the same, but were split into different parts of him.

The gym door admits that he was eager to see you strengthen yourself, while the bedroom closet thanked you by separating Harper from Dirk or what the clean laundry claims to be as Clarence. It was for the best to separate them for every once in a while, everyone deserves peace from the shouting. Aside from the bedroom closet, there was also the bedroom Dorian himself.

That's not all though. The attic Dorian has weirdos in his room and you had suspected it was Artt, Hector and Memoria in there. Then the electric closet Dorian, who warned you about the miscreants that he kept in there, despite you already knowing who the so-called miscreants are.

Every Dorian looked the same, if it wasn't for the ironing board closet. Now imagine to your surprise when you see the smallest Dorian you have ever seen with a big head. He was so small he needed to stand on a stool.

You fought back your laughter when he spoke in his usual deep British voice, finding it hilarious. Even the small Dorian can hear you snickering from a mile away, yet he does nothing. Knowing that you meant no harm.

“I'm still a door. Not a cabinet. Not a hatch. A door, and just as much as the rest of them.” Says the smallest Dorian.

Dorian was surprisingly not the stern and cold door you ought him to be. It was refreshing to witness the other sides of him and you were quite enjoying yourself conversing with them as well.

But there were also doors who were solemn to have small spaces or scared of being forgotten. Just like the office closet and laundry closet Dorians whom you found sulking when you approached them.

You were unaware that your house had so many doors until you met dozens of them, seventeen to be exact. You didn't regret talking to them one bit. You just hoped your constant visits and lending them your ears can give them the company they need. Greeting them with a genuine smile once you approach them.

How can you resist? You always feel a great sense of urgency when they need something. That's what a good friend would do, helping out a friend in need.

Your mission went on for several days due to the many doors this house has, and the more you were busy, the more front Dorian noticed. He was starting to question your absence. You don't usually proceed with your day without greeting him first and then bleed his ears out with your current fixations.

You're always there to greet him whenever you pass by. Sometimes you talk about things that were relevant with his work or ask him questions about the house, even though he doesn't have much to talk about. 

You would always stand there beside him, pleased with your conversation no matter how bland it’d be. You don’t pry on him and you certainly don't force himself to open up. You were patient.

Like what a good friend would do.

But… What if his perception of you has changed?

He would always see the glimpse of your hair or your arm strutting to who knows where. Whether it would be upstairs or downstairs. Watching you talk with the others with that dopey grin on your lips would trigger the same little twitch that tightens in his chest.

It was slow but it was there. He can't simply acknowledge it that easily.

Every hour once the day started, he would grow anxious, and he was so good at keeping it to himself like how it's always been. Did he somehow show the slightest bit of annoyance while you rambled? If he did, then he's sorry. He'll try harder and better at paying attention next time.

If it means for him to have something to look forward to, he'll gladly lend his ear just for you.

“Damn it all…” A breathy grunt escaped Dorian.

A hand made its way to his mouth, covering them as if he had confessed to a crime. It’s not like he acknowledged or admitted it. No, he didn't, but he did think about it. It was there, present and persistent to come to light.

Dorian can only shove those thoughts to the back of his head. You were his friend, and a damn good one at that. Whoever this person you choose, who's undeserving of your love, he'll promise to be there for you. Even if his chest tightens and his hinges rusts.

Because that's what a good friend would do.

Hurried and muffled footsteps caused Dorian's ears to perk up. He looked over to where it was and saw you exiting your office instead, closing the door rather harshly than before. You looked like you were out of breath, you were chasing for it, and that's when he immediately knew something happened. 

The way your hands anxiously reached your face to smoothen the stress, and how you let your full weight lean back against the door. Your legs felt numb and weak to carry your weight. If Dorian hadn't looked closely, he would’ve missed the intense blush washing over you like a damn bloodbath.

You were downright flushed and it confuses him even more.

Dorian would've asked what happened but he can't talk to you. Not when the dateviators are dangerously secured in your grip. Yet he flinches when both of you make eye contact, knowing well you can't see him without the glasses. He was appalled whilst your eyes widened in response. 

There's no way you know he's watching you right?

You were actually thinking the same thing, horrified that Dorian was in the hall and watching you. That's when you clumsily straightened your posture before you ran upstairs in a hurry. Leaving Dorian with a worried Skylar, the woman watching as you left.

“Who’s the bloke that forced themselves on him?” He asked with narrowed eyes, his voice were firm along with his protective demeanor. Meanwhile, his hands formed into fists. Your expression was far from normal.

“It’s nothing like that.” Skylar shook her head. “He was really determined to talk to every door in the house for the past few days and…” 

Dorian's eyes widened at the pink-haired woman’s words and for a moment, his breath hitch as a hushed whisper. The sudden heat that was creeping on his face didn't even help. 

He knew where this was going and he let Skylar continue.

“And [m/n]... might've encountered the trapdoor under the rug.”

It's been two days ever since then, and you were acting quite normally than what Skylar had intended you to be. The poor dateviators couldn't help but worry at the tired expression on your face with dark circles under your eyes, implying that you haven't slept a wink.

It seems she wasn't the only one. Everyone was quick to notice your slumped posture and exhausted eyes, you weren't even eating properly these days and it concerns them. You were always stuck in a daze whenever you're with an object, absentmindedly nodding along and offering a sluggish reply.

“Amore mio, shall I ask for Mitchell to make something for you?” Cabrizzio would ask whenever you would take a glass from him to quench your thirst, and you would decline.

“Ah. I'm not hungry. Thanks anyways, Cabrizzio.”

“My processors think it's best for you to rest your eyes for a while. You can always continue writing once you wake up…” Mac suggests when they found you staring at your desktop screen rather intently, eyes bloodshot.

“Don't worry, Mac. My eyes are still intact.”

“Would you like me to freshen your face tonight, dear? I have just the perfect face mask that I want you to try out.” Offered by Barry and despite his warm smile, you would shake your head.

“Maybe for another time, Barry. Thank you though.”

It was one after the other whenever the objects would express their worries, and you would always find an excuse to get yourself out of it. All of them had watched you neglecting your health for days now, and you wouldn't let them intervene. Either with the dateviators or not.

It was already obvious that something was bothering you, but they couldn't grasp what. And Dorian had enough of it. He had enough seeing you destroy yourself over time. He had enough of the bitter taste when you're trying to avoid him.

The truth has to come out either way.

“I'll talk to him.” He says when he found himself standing in-between Betty and Skylar who were talking about your sleep. You already retreated to your bedroom a few minutes earlier and Betty knew you were struggling to sleep either way.

“Really?” Skylar stood in agape.

“He's been at it for a while now. We have to talk either way.” Dorian said and hoped he could find the right words. It's been so long since he opened up to anyone and yet he knew from the back of his mind, you're worth opening up to.

Betty smiled softly at him. “Don't worry… I'll make sure to let Amir and the others know to give you some privacy.”

The bedroom was cascaded in pitch darkness, letting you find comfort in the cold void and the shadows. You couldn't sleep and you were struggling to do so. Your thoughts would always keep you awake every night and it forces you to ponder literally everything.

The dateviators, the silly mission… and Dorian.

You don't want to admit it, and you don't want to acknowledge it. There was only shame and embarrassment whenever you thought of it, especially after you discovered the trapdoor in your office. Everything you felt about Dorian came crashing like bricks.

Fuck. Well, there goes your best friend of the year award.

You were supposed to be his friend. Just his friend. Your thoughts drowned you to the trenches and couldn't help that there was something blossoming within you. It was so wrong to feel like this to someone who sees you as their friend, let alone unable to reciprocate.

There was a knock.

“May I come in?”

You immediately went quiet upon hearing the familiar voice waiting for your response right behind the door. You almost cursed to yourself for letting this happen. For letting these feelings happen. Although, you know you can't run away from him forever.

“Go ahead…” Your reply was hushed, and that was all it took before the door of your bedroom opened, letting the hallway lights peek into the darkness of your dim-lighted room.

Dorian, once he entered, saw your silhouette sitting at your bedside. Your shoulders slumped and your hair sticking in all kinds of directions.

It was already a mistake to let him in. You still haven't found the slightest bit of courage to face him by how your head was hung low, afraid to see Dorian eye-to-eye. Along with the nonexistent strength of admitting your feelings to him. There was only quiet, and it was the opposite of peaceful. 

“I came here to apologize.” His voice cuts through the awkward silence that makes you flinch. Your eyes widened and you didn't dare to meet his sunken ones.

“What are you apologizing for?” It came as a mutter, Dorian almost couldn't hear you but he stood firm.

“For making you uncomfortable… Skylar told me what happened.” Dorian watched you shake your head.

“I wasn't uncomfortable.” You raked a hand over your scalp. You didn't even realize what you said and didn't notice the way Dorian's eyes widened. Too engrossed on your feet trying to avoid the burning gaze from him.

You sighed, still not meeting his gaze. “I was going to tell you eventually, the mission or whatsoever. It was supposed to be for fun and games between us friends. Teasing and joking, it's what we usually do. It's what friends do…”

Dorian stood silent, hoping for your lips to spill the truth. But what came out of you was the opposite, and the least of what he was expecting.

“I don't think we can be friends anymore, Dorian.”

From how intact your words were, he was uncertain how to react. Your voice didn't waver and he wasn't sure if you were lying or not. All he knew was he couldn't let you end your friendship like this. Everything was going smoothly between you before, and he doesn't want to lose that.

Just the thought of it makes his fist clench.

“Why is that?” His voice came out as harshly as he intended to, and the look on your face contorted to frustration and pain. Guilt swelled in him and you exhaled shakily.

“Look…” Your voice was as brittle as old paper. “I care for you, I respect you a lot. I wanted to be the friend that you'll rely on and yet, for every passing moment I spent with you, or clearly the other forms of you, it made me feel I was crossing a line more than it should have…”

Your words hung in the air for a moment. The confession clothed in painful restraint.

Dorian's brows furrowed gently. “What do you mean?"

Your breath shakily hitched. Voice dropped to a whisper.

“How does one burn for someone who doesn't feel the same?”

Silence. Dorian stood by the doorframe in shock and all he wanted to do was to approach you. He did. It was slow and quiet enough to avoid startling you in such a vulnerable state with your hands trying to hide it. Roaming around your face to ease the overwhelming crease of your brows.

You squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to let time freeze, not noticing Dorian closing in on you. “These feelings kept coming back no matter how I pushed them away. And now I feel like I'm ruining our friendship, and I don't want that… That's literally the last thing I wanted!”

Your voice cracked at the end. Yet there were no tears but instead an ache on your throat, twisting your airways and trying not to break.

Then, quietly, you heard a reply.

“It doesn't have to be.”

“Huh..?” You snapped your eyes open, startled. But what was more startling was his face popping on your field of vision, and he was kneeling before you to match your height.

Dorian's gaze was steady. Soft, yes, but unwavering. His own voice trembled just slightly, as if they, too, were pushing past walls he had spent years trying to maintain his guard. To protect himself from unwanted intruders.

“I’ve been pondering the same thoughts for a while now.” Dorian said as his brows furrowed. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to hurt you, nor break your trust. But… I don’t think that label fits us well anymore.”

Your lips parted in a shake of disbelief. “Dorian, just don't. The last thing I wanted was to force yourself to open up to me. Please… If you’re saying this out of pity—”

“Who says I was forcing myself?” The immediate sharpness of Dorian's tone startled you both. It wasn't anger, there were no traces of it. Instead it was a trace of clarity.

“This is the perfect time to come clean. Don't you think so?” You bit your lip and felt the bottom flesh ache, and you didn't disagree with him.

The door's expression softened, and he slowly leaned forward leaving a little space between your foreheads. His voice was quieter now, almost reverent.

“Every minute you spend talking to me or helping my needs… It only proves that I can rely on others.” His eyes met yours and continued. “That I can rely on you… You taught me more than anyone else that a good relationship can blossom through friendship.”

You blinked slowly, the weight of his feelings was starting to catch up to you in full. Blood rushed to your ears when you could feel your heart battering against your ribcage.

“...What are you saying?” You croaked.

Meanwhile, Dorian looked at you like he had been waiting to say this.

“I'm saying…” He exhaled. “You weren't the only one who's afraid but I don't want to be afraid anymore.”

He reached out, slowly and deliberately, with his hand hovering near yours that was placed still on your knee. Not touching, not quite. You guessed what he was about to do and you waited when Dorian spoke again.

“So if you’ll let me… I'd like to be something more with you. Not in spite of our friendship.” That was when a smile made its way to Dorian's lips. “But because of it.”

Your eyes widened along with your fingers twitching before you let it reach and slowly curling into his. Your fingers were linked now. Lightly, as though one quick movement might break it. But neither of you pulled away.

You stared at the point of contact like it wasn't real. Like you were dreaming again, those sleepless nights or half-asleep moments where you wanted him here with you. But this wasn't a dream. This was now. Here.

“...I don't want to pretend anymore.” You weakly muttered with a small grin and watched your calloused thumb caress his hand.

Dorian's eyes softened. His other hand reached out and gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear that had managed to escape. This allowed you to look at him, your eyes gazing at each other.

“You don't have to, handsome.” He whispered. “You never had to.”

And suddenly, the silence wasn't heavy anymore. It was full of warmth. The space between you had always been small but now there was no distance left to bridge.

You leaned forward hesitantly and Dorian did the same until his lips finally sealed with yours. Dorian immediately savored every skin and warmth, your lips were slightly chapped but so tender against his.

The kiss wasn’t urgent nor desperate. Just real.

It lingered, warm and full of everything he'd never dared say until now. And when you finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together, you both exhaled like something had finally been set free.

Dorian watched you chuckle, truly chuckle, for the first time in days. All he wanted now was to experience your firsts with him. Despite being both men, you both didn’t make a big deal out of it. Everything will work in the end.

“Hmm, I haven't seen you this close before.” Your voice was gentle with your eyes trailing to every edge of Dorian's face. He was handsome and you were a fool for not noticing it before.

Meanwhile Dorian somehow felt exposed, and he loved every bit of it. Being this close to your handsome and charming face has never been anything but a dream. The homeowner, whom he admired from afar, was finally his.

“We have all the time in the world, love.” 

“You're right. I can live with that.”

That's all he needed to know.

a/n: this is over 4.7k words... please eat it up. i still have dishes to do and it's 3am. thank you for reading and stay tuned for more m!reader fics!

[synced-love]

Creativity - Mercurial Creativity

Mercury

Music - Musically, they are both good. I think Virgos are R&B/Pop artists, and as writers, like Mariah Carey. even though she doesn't have any Virgo placements, her lyrics are very advanced for a singer. Actually, I'm pretty sure Mariah has a Virgo 6th house, and the 6th house has to do with day-to-day jobs, health, and routine. and since singing is her day-to-day job, I can see where that writing is. Geminis are more Hip Hop/Rap Pop because even though Virgos are very lyrical, Geminis can express complex things, though like 2 sentences. Kendrick Lamar is a Gemini sun, Venus, and Chiron, and we truly saw how he ended Drake with his words in 2024. Also, on a less popular note, Kanye West, as bad of a person as he can be, there's no denying he's a musical and lyrical genius. Now, of course, there can be Virgo placements who can be lyrical like Nicki Minaj, who is a Virgo moon, but I also think her Sag placements play into her writing skills. And on a side note, mutable signs + Leo are very animated, especially if they are rappers.

Writing - some of the best writers, because well, they are literally ruled by the planet all about writing and information. To me, Geminis are better fictional writers than Virgos, but Virgos are better essay and blogger types of writers. But they don't mean that one can't do the other, but that's just what I've noticed. actually, if I had to rephrase being able to write fictional things, I think Virgos are able to make fictional things realistic, so like writing about something that never happened, but it's still set in the real world, while Geminis write something more outer worldly. I think Geminis are some of the best writers.

Fashion - When it comes to fashion, I think that Virgo takes the cake. though Geminis are very creative with what they wear or put together, Virgos are more able to take something that's really kitschy and weird and make it classic, make classy things look quirky. I feel that Geminis just look and dress quirky in general. I mean, look at Bella Hadid. She has a Virgo stellium, and she always wears very chic, classy, but inspiring and entertaining clothing. Nicki Minaj and Doja Cat have Virgo moons, and they always look good, always look fashion forward; they just always look innovative to me. But Geminis are still really good at styling, think of Kanye and Kim when they were together, they had really different but cool fashion. I'm pretty sure Kanye styled a lot of her most looks

Visual - When it comes to visual things like videos and photography, I think both of them are good at them. a part of my thinks that Virgos are better, but then another part of me says Geminis are better. I think they are both good at photography and filmography. I don't really have much else to say about this because it's not really something I look into, but I do think they excel at MVs.

Gemini

They are the best Hip-Hop artists, hands down. (low key sag placements too, but we're not talking abt them rn). For Gemini Stelliums/MC, I would recommend either a more youthful and bright image or a more organized chaos image. Before Kanye went crazy, he was still chaotic, but people found it funny or truthful.

Virgo

Virgos (along with Libras and Leos) are pop stars. R&B stars as well. but mostly pop stars because of their ability to portray perfection, analyze different algorithms, and rise to trends, so they're able to emulate that. For something, their image as an artist, I would recommend a Virgo dominant/MC have a more polished look and should really take the time to perfect and master their craft.

AND OMGG how could I forget about THE Virgoan King of pop. Though he does have some Leo placements, we can definitely see his Virgo sun shine through because of his almost clean image and very perfectionist tendencies in his music and his public perception.

[stargazostli]

small Joel i drew today

SEASON TEN TOMORROW ALSO ACK-

[cloudbends]

watched 3 eps of heartcatch precure...!!

[star-anise]

Disclaimer: I like Anita Sarkeesian.

But also, I just saw a writeup of a Youtuber whose content has come a long way from his Gamergate days, and to explain that, the wiki says, "Anita Sarkeesian is a radical feminist who created a webseries about sexist tropes in video games"

AHAHAHAHAHA ANITA SARKEESIAN, RADICAL FEMINIST

HOO HEE EXCUSE ME THAT'S A GOOD ONE

Radical feminist. Feminist extremist. Anita Sarkeesian.

Anita Sarkeesian did her Master's Thesis in Social and Political Thought in 2010 on the trope of the "Strong Woman" in fantasy and science fiction TV shows, and produced Tropes vs Women, a series of online videos breaking down her work in a way that was accessible to a lay audience. She found a ready audience in geek feminist circles, since this was exactly the kind of thing we wanted and needed right then.

Tropes vs Women was extremely bog-standard cultural critique, what you'd find expressed in discussion between scholars of literary theory or media analysis anywhere, and exactly what 99% of feminists were saying at the time. It certainly talked about patriarchy as the complex system of sexism fused into our cultural matrix, so it's not like it wasn't radical feminism from that viewpoint, but it wasn't "radical" by way of being especially militant. Sarkeesian frequently pointed out how individual occurrences of a trope weren't harmful in themselves, but that a media landscape completely saturated with only that trope and nothing but that trope is, in the aggregate, a big feminist issue.

And the internet

HAAAAAAAATED

her for it.

Like, geek feminists got flak a lot anyway, especially when we wanted things like properly enforced policies against sexual harassment at science fiction conventions. And yeah, there totally were toxic keyboard warriors who said stuff about all men being scum - but Sarkeesian wasn't one of them.

It's probably because of her succinct, matter-of-fact, "this is not a debated issue, feminists have decades of theory and research to back this point up, sources abound if you google for thirty seconds so I won't stop to baby you through all the fundamental concepts" approach that she got such a big reach. She was calm, concise, coherent, and rational, everything feminists are told we need to be.

Unfortunately that just made her seem... attackable, I think. A good target, not actually scary or impassioned, unlikely to respond to violence with violence. The perfect kind of person to play five seconds of, and then spend the next five minutes yelling into your mic because IF ANITA IS RIGHT ABOUT VIDEO GAME SEXIST YOU MIGHT AS WELL SAY THAT EVERYTHING IS SEXIST AND SEXISM IS SYSTEMIC AND ENDEMIC TO ALL OF WESTERN CULTURE AND OTHER CULTURES TOO, WHICH IS CLEARLY RIDICULOUS, ANITA LADY BAD.

She literally spent five solid years as Enemy #1 in online geek spaces. It was completely insane. I am so sorry she had to take the brunt of it, and yet grateful that she did. She held the line and took the shit and kept doing good decent feminist work for years after, though she did admit to burnout and closed up shop on her nonprofit org Feminist Frequency in 2023. I hope to hell she's having a good day.

But even now, more than a decade later, dudes talk about her as though she were Geek Feminist Godzilla, the biggest baddest woman in the universe, off to lay waste to downtown Video Games and cut everybody's balls off.

When people (mostly dudes, but not all) talk like this, it's just very funny and unintentionally revealing because of the absolute averageness of her third-wave, trans-inclusive, western-centric, intersectional feminism. It makes them look absolutely pathetic.

Because it just makes it clear that she is probably the first and last self-described feminist the speaker has ever paid attention to.

[shyoko]

✧You and another member play fighting, and you end up on top of him ✦༺⊹

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. 𓂃 

✦ 3.6K words * Masterlist˚ Taglist₊‧ ✦𓂃 

You can send me all the requests you want before Sunday. I’ll be writing them throughout June and July. After that day, requests will be closed!

enhypen x fem!reader ⚠️ CW: jealousy, angst, emotional tension, possessive behavior, rough intimacy, heated confrontations, wall pinning, intense kissing, dirty talk, slight humiliation, neck kissing, marking (hickeys), affirmations of ownership, insecure behavior, friends-to-lovers tension, make-up, and emotional aftercare.

✧ Heeseung ----------

“Please, Sunoo, lend it to me,” you demanded, sitting next to him and stretching your arm to reach the snack he had bought you—after you had told him over and over again how much you loved it.

You leaned over his body to retrieve it, and he, laughing, held you by the waist to keep you from falling while pulling the package even farther from you. Both of your laughter filled the room, creating a light and fun moment…

Until a dry cough abruptly broke the mood.

Heeseung stood at the door, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and with an expression of anger so intense that it seemed to erase all the joy in an instant. His murderous gaze locked onto the two of you—especially Sunoo.

“What the hell is going on here?” he snapped, his voice cold and razor-sharp.

Sunoo immediately dropped the package and pulled his hand from your waist like it had burned him. The sudden movement made you lose balance, falling onto him. Heeseung barely moved, but his eyes burned with jealousy.

“Are you comfortable, Sunoo?” he asked with a forced, venom-laced smile.

“It’s not what it looks like…” Sunoo tried to explain nervously, raising his hands.

“Oh, really? Because from here it looks like your hands are where they shouldn’t be,” Heeseung interrupted, taking another step toward you. “You think this is funny, or what?”

The tension thickened. Sunoo opened his mouth to say something, but Heeseung had already grabbed your arm—firm but not painful—and hoisted you over his shoulder with determination. His gaze never left Sunoo.

“Don’t ever touch her like that again. Not even as a joke.”

Sunoo nodded silently, swallowing hard, while you, dangling from Heeseung’s shoulder, kicked and protested.

Heeseung walked straight to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He dropped you face down on the mattress and quickly climbed on top of you, pressing his body against yours.

“You’re mine, damn it. How many times do I have to say it? I don’t like those little games of yours—and even less when they’re with him,” he spat, his lips brushing your ear.

His warm breath hit your skin, but his tone wasn’t sweet this time. He was angry, jealous, consumed by a mix of frustration and intensity.

“Whose are you?”

You squirmed under his body, your heart pounding. But before you could answer, his voice came again, firmer:

“I asked: whose the hell are you? Answer me!”

His lips came down to your neck and bit hard, without care. Then he licked the area, a silent apology for the roughness.

“Yours… I’m yours, Heeseung,” you gasped, breathless.

“That’s right, baby. Only mine,” he whispered, his expression calmer now, though his eyes still blazed.

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, then wrapped you in his arms and lay down with you, holding you close—as if afraid someone else might ever touch you again.

✧ Jay ----------

The neon lights of the trampoline park danced in colorful flashes, mixing with the loud music and the laughter of the boys. They jumped, fell, screamed. As always, Jay stayed by your side, his hand tightly holding yours—as if claiming you silently.

But the chaos of the place ended up separating you for a few moments. Jake found you first, bursting with energy and flashing that mischievous grin.

“Wanna wrestle? I bet you won’t last a minute,” he said, winking.

“Oh yeah? Want to try me?” you replied through laughter, accepting the challenge without much thought.

It started with playful pushes, clumsy dodges, and stifled shrieks between giggles. Jake circled your waist playfully, catching you to keep you from falling, and you responded by flailing at the air, laughing. But with one bad jump, you lost your balance and fell straight onto him.

Jake laughed, his arms instinctively wrapping around you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, his voice warm while you stayed on his chest, still laughing uncontrollably.

But then you felt it. That silent pressure that stops time. You looked up—and there was Jay.

His jaw was tight, eyes locked on the scene, breath held in as if one more spark could make him explode. He walked toward you both with firm steps, his expression cold, too cold... too controlled.

“Get up,” he said to Jake, without needing to raise his voice.

Jake, now clearly uncomfortable, helped you stand. Jay approached you. He wasn’t rough, but the way his hand gripped your arm was final—like he was saying come with me without needing to speak.

“Did anything hurt?” he asked gently, scanning you quickly with his eyes, though the anger burning inside him was far from hidden.

“I’m fine, Jay… it was just an accident,” you began, but he didn’t let you finish.

He turned to Jake with a tight, forced smile.

“Didn’t know we were playing ‘roll around with someone else’s girlfriend’ now.”

Jake raised his hands, awkwardly.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear—we were just messing around…”

Jay just stared at him a moment longer. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence was worse.

Then he looked back at you, took your face in his hands, and leaned in with determination. He kissed you—deep, hard, without restraint. A kiss full of everything he wasn’t saying aloud. Jealousy. Rage. Need. Possession.

When he pulled away, his eyes still held that dark fire.

“Let’s go.”

He took your hand and you followed him, saying nothing more. You got in the car in silence. He played music low as he started the engine. His left hand on the wheel, his right still holding yours—tight.

“Jay… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. We were just playing,” you murmured, staring at his fingers that wouldn’t let you go.

He didn’t answer right away. He just breathed deeply, lips pressed together, and finally pulled over on a quiet street, turning to face you.

“I don’t care if it was just a joke. I didn’t like it. I don’t like seeing you like that with anyone else. I don’t ever want to feel that again,” he said softly, but the intensity in his voice hurt more than if he had yelled.

“It won’t happen again, I promise,” you said, touching his cheek.

Jay closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned in and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you. But I’m jealous, and I’m terrible at hiding it.”

You hugged him, and this time he kissed you softly, like the world made sense again—just because he was in your arms.

✧ Jake ----------

The music boomed through the speakers while colorful lights bounced off the walls. You were in front of the TV with Ni-Ki, playing Just Dance. Fast movements, nonstop laughter, and him determined to get in your way just to mess with you.

"Come on, focus! You’re losing because of me!" he yelled between laughs, standing right in front of you to block the screen.

"Ni-Ki, move!" you shouted through your giggles, giving him a light push as you tried to follow the beat of the song.

The game went on, but at one point, Ni-Ki moved awkwardly and stumbled. He accidentally pushed you, and in the blink of an eye, you both fell to the ground, rolling over each other. A small groan escaped his lips.

"Ouch… that hurt," he joked, laughing as you stayed on top of him, laughing so hard you couldn’t get up.

But then, the atmosphere shifted. You felt a gaze on you, sharp as a blade. You turned—and there was Jake.

Your boyfriend.

His brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly, and a mix of jealousy and discomfort written all over his face.

"What the hell is this?" he snapped, voice laced with tension.

You stood up immediately, your heart pounding like a drum.

"Jake, it’s not what it looks like…" you began, reaching out to touch him.

But he pulled his hand away—not violently, but coldly. His eyes, usually so warm, now refused to meet yours. He turned around, ready to leave.

"Jake, wait…"

Ni-Ki stood up and approached him, serious now, the jokes gone.

"It was my fault. I pushed her by accident, she fell on top of me. I’m really sorry," he said sincerely, knowing he had crossed a line—even if unintentionally.

Jake didn’t respond. He just nodded slightly, accepting the apology but not hiding his anger. Ni-Ki left quietly, leaving you two alone.

You walked up to Jake before he could leave again. You held his face in your hands and kissed him. Once, twice, three times. Short, sweet kisses—like little patches for every cracked piece of his heart.

He didn’t react right away. His brows were still furrowed, lips in that cute little pout. But his eyes were slowly softening.

"I’m still mad," he mumbled, not looking away from you.

You smiled faintly, saying nothing, and gently pushed him toward the couch. He sat without resistance, and you climbed onto his lap, straddling him and holding his face.

"Then let me pamper you until it goes away," you whispered against his lips, kissing him more slowly now, letting your hands roam across his neck, his hair, his back.

Jake sighed, arms gradually wrapping around you, giving in. His pout faded under your soft touches and slow kisses.

"You’re impossible…" he finally murmured against your neck, now with a defeated smile.

"And you’re too cute to be jealous over a game."

He chuckled softly and hugged you tighter.

"Only because you’re mine. And I’m yours. You know that, right?"

"I know. And I’m never letting you go."

✧ Sunghoon ----------

The ice shimmered beneath your skates as the boys’ laughter echoed around the rink. Everyone was skating, weaving around each other playfully, and you had gotten into a little game with Heeseung: every time you crossed paths, one of you gave the other a soft push. Nothing serious—just good fun.

"Your turn!" Heeseung shouted as he gave you a light shove while passing by.

You laughed and returned the favor on your next lap. Sunghoon noticed. He noticed everything—from how you smiled at Heeseung to those pushes disguised as a game. He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and kept skating with the others, his brow slightly furrowed.

And then it happened.

Heeseung pushed you again, this time a bit harder, and you spun on your skates and gave him a stronger shove than intended. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled, grabbing your arm on instinct so he wouldn’t fall alone. His body hit the ice—and you landed right on top of him.

One of his skates caught your leg, and a sharp pain shot through your calf.

"Ouch!" you cried, curling in on yourself without meaning to.

Heeseung sat up with effort, worried, his hands going to your injured leg.

"Did I hurt you? Let me see..." he muttered, frowning, while you were still on top of him.

But before he could touch you again, a voice cut through the moment like a knife.

"Don’t touch her."

Sunghoon arrived like a storm. His eyes sparked with restrained anger as he looked at Heeseung.

"Be more careful. Can’t you see you hurt her? And don’t touch her again."

His tone was serious, dry, leaving no room for argument. He took you gently, almost afraid of causing more pain, and helped you up. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say anything else. Just wrapped his arm around you and led you off the ice, searching for an empty bench.

He knelt in front of you without a word, his brows furrowed, breath heavy. He opened his backpack and pulled out the small first-aid kit he always carried just in case. He lifted your leg onto his thigh with great care, though tension still lined every movement.

You watched him in silence, knowing he was angry—but also seeing how his fingers trembled slightly as he touched you. He couldn’t stand seeing you hurt, even if his pride was hurting too.

You raised a hand and gently ran your fingers through his dark hair.

"Hoon..."

He didn’t respond, just continued disinfecting the wound.

You leaned in until your face was close to his, and left a soft kiss on his forehead. Then one on his cheek. And one more—on his lips.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have played around with Heeseung like that. I didn’t think it’d end like this… I love you, Sunghoon."

He paused. Slowly lowered his head without looking at you, resting it on your thighs as he knelt there. He stayed like that for a few moments, breathing against your skin, then lifted his face slightly and kissed your injured leg gently.

"Does it hurt a lot…?" he whispered, his voice finally coming out, a little broken.

You shook your head with a soft smile, still running your fingers through his hair as he remained there, holding you, not caring who saw.

"It only hurts when you’re mad at me."

Sunghoon looked up at you, and though a hint of frustration lingered in his eyes, his expression softened. He kissed your bandaged knee and rested his forehead on your leg again with a calm sigh.

"I can’t stay mad at you when you’re like this…"

✧ Sunoo ----------

The atmosphere in the living room was warm and relaxed. Dim lights, several blankets scattered over the couch, everyone chatting, laughing, lounging however they pleased. You were among them, leaning against the armrest of the sofa, with Sunoo beside you, his fingers absentmindedly caressing your hand under the blanket.

But the peace was interrupted when the first cushions started flying.

"Who did that?" you asked, looking around while everyone pretended to be innocent.

Jungwon shrugged, trying to stifle his laughter.

A few minutes passed… another cushion hit you. This time, straight on the head. You turned quickly, and once again, he acted like nothing happened.

"I saw you, Jungwon!" you laughed, grabbing one of the cushions to throw it back.

He stood up, running through the living room, and you chased him, laughing. You ran between the scattered blankets until you finally caught up with him. You gave him a light tap on the back as he dramatically pretended to fall… and just as you took one more step, you tripped over a blanket and fell… right on top of him.

You both laughed. Jungwon burst out laughing with you on top of him.

But amid the laughter, you didn’t notice Sunoo standing up from the sofa. His smile vanished without anyone noticing. He left the room in silence, without saying a word, disappearing from your view.

It wasn’t until the mood calmed down and you looked to your side that you noticed he was gone.

"Where’s Sunoo…?"

Worried, you stood up, left the room, and found him in the kitchen, his back to the door, hands braced on the counter, brows furrowed, lips tight. His entire posture radiated quiet anger.

"Sunoo…" you whispered, cautiously approaching.

You tried to hug him from behind, but he stepped away.

"No," he said sharply, without looking at you. "Go hug Jungwon, since you get along so well with him."

His voice was low, tense. It hurt you, because you knew it wasn’t just jealousy—it was insecurity masked as annoyance.

You didn’t say anything. You simply hugged him from behind, tightly, leaving no space for him to escape. You rested your cheek against his back.

"I love you, Sunoo… Only you. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. It was nothing, we were just playing. But you’re the most important thing to me."

You felt him take a deep breath. His shoulders relaxed just a little… then he slowly turned around. His eyes were slightly glassy, his jaw tight, and his mouth… his mouth trembled with words he didn’t want to say.

He looked at you. His silence burned.

And without saying anything, he gently pinned you against the counter, placing his hands on either side of your body. His face came close, until his breath brushed your lips.

"Don’t do it again," he whispered before kissing you with soft rage, desperate to reclaim what he felt he’d lost, even if it had only been minutes.

He kissed your lips again and again, then moved down to your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made your skin shiver. He moved up to your cheeks, kissing them more tenderly this time, before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

"You’re mine. Don’t make me feel like I could lose you."

"Never. I’m yours, Sunoo. Only yours."

✧ Jungwon ----------

"I already told you, I’m not jealous," Jungwon repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, reclining with apparent calm on the sofa, while the rest of the group raised an eyebrow and exchanged knowing smiles.

Jay, who was sitting on your other side, wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he wanted to tease. You weren’t helping either, laughing with him as you played with tickles and silly comments that made Jungwon pretend to ignore the situation… until he couldn’t anymore.

A clumsy push, a laugh too loud… and suddenly you were on top of Jay, laughing, unaware of the fire you’d just lit.

"You okay?" Jay asked, amused, his hand on your arm.

Then silence. The kind that hurts in your chest. You turned—and saw him. Jungwon, standing, looking at you like he’d just seen something that hurt more than he could admit.

"You’re going to get off him. Now." His voice was cold. So controlled, it was scary.

"Wonie, wait, it’s not what—"

He didn’t let you finish. He grabbed your arm firmly—not violently, but with enough intensity to make you follow him. Without another word, he walked you to his room. He closed the door, leaned his back against it, and looked at you with eyes burning.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Don’t be ridiculous…" you murmured, though your heart was racing.

"No, I want to hear it. Did you like him holding you? Touching you?"

You stepped closer to him.

"We were just playing. You were right there. You know it was nothing."

But he was already close to you, holding your waist. He gently pushed you against the wall, pressing his body to yours.

"I don’t care if it was a game. I don’t want it to happen again. Not with him. Not with anyone."

Slowly, his hands moved up your sides, and he unbuttoned the top buttons of your shirt with a calm but firm motion, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned down, leaving a deep kiss on your neck… then another, warmer, lower.

"You’re mine. Mine," he whispered against your skin. "And you’re not covering this. I want everyone to see. To know who you belong to."

"I am… I always have been," you whispered, almost breathless.

"Then remember that. Because if I see that again… I can’t promise what I’ll do."

He hugged you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm inside him. You caressed him gently, resting your head on his chest.

"I’m sorry, Jungwon. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you."

"And I love you," he replied against your skin. "Too much."

✧ Ni-ki ----------

The living room was full of laughter and chatter, but for you, everything revolved around Sunghoon. He, who was usually cold and reserved, was different today: playful, close, smiling in a way that made your heart beat faster. Between jokes and soft pushes, you felt more alive than ever, savoring every brush of his hands, every glance shared.

But then, from a corner, Ni-ki was watching you with intense eyes and an expression you’d never seen on him before—pure, burning jealousy. The playful interaction between you and Sunghoon was hitting a nerve he didn’t want to acknowledge.

In the middle of your friendly wrestling, you lost your balance and fell on top of Sunghoon, who caught you without hesitation. Laughter escaped your lips as he held you, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and something deeper that surprised everyone.

Ni-ki couldn’t take it anymore. He walked over, voice laced with anger.

"What’s going on here? Do you really like my girlfriend that much?"

He shoved Sunghoon hard and turned to leave, but you followed him immediately.

"Ni-ki, wait… it’s not what you think."

He didn’t even look at you, jaw clenched, brows furrowed, already halfway to the door.

But you weren’t going to let distance grow between you. With determination, you grabbed his shirt as he crossed the threshold, pulling him back to you.

Your lips crashed into his in a fiery kiss, full of love and anger and desperation.

Ni-ki froze for a second, surprised, but melted into the kiss. His arms wrapped around you tightly, lifting you in an embrace that set your skin ablaze.

You felt every heartbeat against your chest, every sigh on his lips.

His hands slid down your back, pressing you against him as if to make sure you wouldn’t slip away.

His eyes opened slightly as he pulled away for a moment, resting his forehead on your skin.

"You’re mine, and no one else is going to touch you." he whispered, voice rough with love and jealousy.

You took his hand and laced your fingers with his, guiding him firmly toward the hallway.

In the dim light, where no one could see, he kissed you again—slow, deep, like it was the first and last time.

The world faded around you, leaving only the heat of his lips and the electricity sparking through your body.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes met yours, full of promises and fierce desire.

Without a word, you took his hand and walked with him into the bedroom, leaving behind the noise and jealousy to melt into that private, intimate silence.

✦N/a: If I were Ni-Ki, I wouldn’t have forgiven her 😔😔 (I think I got a little too affectionate with Y/N and Sunghoon LOL) I hope you liked it, love you so much 🩷

✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho @douqhnxtss @nuggets4lifers @mitmit01 @highway-143

[cherrixpie]

ACCISMUS

↬ maybe it was stupid trying to make theodore nott jealous by going to the yule ball with mattheo. maybe.

↬ sfw; wc: 9.4k; cw: violence, suggestive; theo nott x reader, friends to lovers

( masterlist )

Mattheo Riddle was a genius. At least after today he was. Though it wasn't like he wasn't sharp, it was more so the fact that his desire to punch someone got in the way of his composure that had earned him the reputation of a beater rather than a schemer. Usually, it was Theodore with the observant eyes, perfect composure and the thoroughly thought-out plans. Mattheo would know, as Theo’s quick-witted responses and excuses were likely the only reason he hadn't been kicked out yet. But today, he would turn the tables.

As usual, younger students jumped out of his way as he stormed through the halls, climbing the stairs that led up to Gryffindor tower. A group of his peers that were climbing out of their common room entrance cast him incredulous looks as Mattheo surged forward to hold it open and slip in in their wake. The second he entered the lion’s den, conversations fell silent and a sea of Gryffindors wearing expressions of varying shock stared at him, standing panting before the exit.

With a sweeping glance, Mattheo spotted you, sitting by the fire with your friends and playing chess against Weasley. When he had entered, you had looked up from your game and were now looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He called your name and motioned outside, hoping you'd get the hint. You did and rose from your seat, quelling the nervous remarks of your Gryffindor friends.

In spite of your house, you had been included in Mattheo’s friend group ever since you’d had a charms project with Enzo in fifth year, who had introduced you to them. Against all odds, it had been an instant match, and you hung out with them whenever you could, even though your housemates had been opposing the idea from the start.

Now, you stifled their complaints and slipped past Mattheo out of the portrait hole, who followed in suit, not sorry to leave the room of judging stares behind. When he let the portrait fall back into place, he found you frowning at him. “Did you run all the way up here, Mattheo?”

“Maybe,” he grinned cheekily and you rolled your eyes, though actual annoyance was missing from both your eyes and voice. “Whatever for?”

His appearance was slightly unnerving. Though completely out of breath and heaving heavily, an eager, almost crazed smile tugged at his lips and his eyes glinted dangerously. “I have a proposition for you,” Mattheo grinned and you sighed. Oh Merlin. You were going to get roped into another one of his schemes, weren't you?

“So, here’s the deal,” Mattheo whispered conspicuously and dragged you into a darker part of the corridor. “I think we can both do each other a favor that benefits both of us.” He swatted his hand at your skeptical expression. “I mean, actually benefitting both of us.”

“Let's hear it,” you replied and crossed your arms. You had your doubts wether this wasn't just an elaborate plot advantageous to exactly one person: Mattheo. That wasn't prejudice talking, but experience. Just a few years ago, you would've thought it impossible that you would be friends with Mattheo Riddle one day, but he had turned out to be a genuinely funny and easy to talk to person. But that didn't mean you trusted him when he looked at you like that. Especially because Mattheo had a way of causing trouble that rivaled Harry Potter’s.

“Be my date for the Yule ball,” Mattheo blurted out and your brows only rose higher.

During the last few weeks, nobody had known another topic of interest than the Yule ball that would take place at the end of the week, the hustle and bustle around it had been exhausting. Not to mention the drama resulting from the dating rumors. Secretly, you’d been hoping that Theo would ask you out. You had been crushing on him since even before you were properly introduced, and befriending him had only intensified your feelings for him. But he hadn't made a move. And now this.

“How would that benefit either of us?” you said, stunned. “What use could either of us possibly have to gain from stepping on each other's toes for a whole evening?”

“Well,” Mattheo started, rubbing his neck. “Ya see, I have a lot of … options, but I don't want anyone to become attached and start bugging me or expecting a relationship.” He pulled a disgusted face and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Out of his whole friend group, who were all very sexually active, Mattheo had earned himself the title of the biggest whore, but it looked like that came to beat him in the ass for the first time.

“Why don't you go alone, then?” you asked sensibly. “I'm sure no one is going to doubt your sexual prowess just because you go solo to the Yule ball.”

Mattheo shook his head. “Not an option. I did a bet with Draco and I have to eat a hundred living flubberworms if I don't get a date.” A shudder ran through his body at the thought. “So I’m thinking I'll just ask a friend. But Pansy and Blaise are going and Draco and Daphne have made arrangements and Merlin forgive me for not wanting to go to the ball with Enzo or Theo.”

You couldn't help the snort that escaped you and turned into a laugh at the incredulous look he gave you. “God, Mattheo, I can't believe it. This is absurd.”

Patiently, Mattheo waited for you to come down from your laughing fit. “So, what do you say, angel? I can dance, I promise.”

“What's wrong with going out with Enzo or Theo?” you asked elusively. Though you had become used to the looks and stares that you earned every time your friendship to the Slytherin gang came up, you weren't keen on the attention you’d get for going out with the Dark Lord’s son, even if it was merely platonic.

“Come on,” Mattheo pleaded with you and it was a genuinely curious sight to hear him beg. “Think about what's in it for you!”

“Having to listen to you for hours on end and a public witch hunt?”

“Aha!” he called and sprung up. “That's where part two of my plan comes in.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he waved his hands to stop you. “Listen to this. I get to escape the flubberworms and the nosy girls and you get to make Theo jealous.” Ignoring your spluttered response, he continued. “That boy’s head over heels for you, and with a little luck, seeing you with me will make him explode and confess, and the two of you can ride into the sunset together yada yada yada.”

Luckily, your hidden corner was so dark the blush on your cheeks would not be visible to the eye, but in the deafening silence that followed, you could hear your heart beating faster. Finally, you broke it with a wavering laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Theo doesn't like me like that. He isn't- he wouldn't-” But Mattheo grinned wider the more you stuttered on and you glared at him. “If he likes me, why hasn't he asked me out yet?”

It was impossible. Too good to be true. Theo was stunning, he was smart and just overall great. When you first joined their friend group, he had warmed up to you the fastest, after Enzo of course, even though it was quite unusual of him to be open to strangers. But you had bonded over your shared academic interests, and once you had started recommending each other books and studying together, you were a done deal. But it was a purely platonic deal, at least from his perspective. Right?

“He will,” Mattheo interrupted your train of thought. “And he’ll give you the same spiel as me. He just needs a wake up call to realize he wants to fuck you!” Ignoring your piqued look, he gesticulated wildly. “Come on, are you just going to let him use you when you love him and he can't wrap his head around his feelings for you?”

“Like you are using me?” you reminded him but it couldn't deter Mattheo. “That's different. You don't have feelings for me, do you?”

You avoided his eye as you pondered his proposal. What if it didn't work? Well, at least you'd know and finally be able to let go of your stupid crush. There was, objectively, nothing wrong with going to the ball with Mattheo, you could just say you were helping out a friend.

Mattheo had said Theo had feelings for you- but what did he know? Why would someone as amazing as Theo be interested in you? Then again, there had been those moments, between bookshelves in the library, or in his common room, or out at the lake, shuffling closer to each other because of the cold. Moments when he had said or done something more befitting of a boyfriend rather than a friend. Rare smiles, interlaced fingers, sweet compliments, weirdly romantic Italian nicknames you had researched in a muggle library over the holidays. Was there a chance that Mattheo, who had the emotional intelligence of a tree trunk, was right about Theo’s feelings, or was he simply misinterpreting them?

“He really likes you,” Mattheo added quietly, as if he had read your thoughts. “He just needs a little push. Come on, angel, what could go wrong?”

Angel. That nickname. The first time Mattheo had called you that had been in the Slytherin common room. You had been lounging on the couch next to Theo, a book abandoned in your lap, and tried to cheer them up after a depressing quidditch practice. When Mattheo had called you an angel, Theo’s hand on your thigh had tightened and you had looked up just in time to see him throw a warning glare at Mattheo. Maybe there was something to his words.

But then again, you reminded yourself, Mattheo had an agenda with this, and when had someone else ever been more important for him than he himself? It was ridiculous to think that Theo liked you, but you were so hopeful. What if Mattheo’s stupid plan did work in your favor?

“F-fine,” you spluttered out before you could start to doubt yourself again. “I'll go with you. But it won't work because Theo doesn't like me like that. And you’re just taking advantage of my stupid schoolgirl crush. So, if it doesn't work, which it won't, you’re going to let me test my practice potions on you for a weekend. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mattheo grinned, shaking your outstretched hand. “But I fear you’ll have to find another guinea pig for your potions, because it will work.”

When Mattheo strode into the Slytherin common room fifteen minutes later, he walked in on Pansy beating Blaise at chess maliciously. The light of the flickering green fire made the shadows of their chess figures flicker over the walls in giant dimensions. Both of them looked up when he fell down on the couch with a triumphant grin and exchanged a glance. Usually, Mattheo's good mood could mean one of two things: someone was bleeding or someone was going to bleed.

“So…,” Blaise began when Mattheo made no indication of speaking. “What's got you in such a good mood?” Immediately after, he began to curse bitterly when Pansy took advantage of the distraction to get rid of his Queen.

“I’m not going to eat any flubberworms any time soon,” Mattheo said, satisfied. “y/n just agreed to go to the ball with me.”

The reaction was immediate. Pansy choked on a chocolate frog she had been eating and Blaise was too shocked to pat her back when she began to cough. In the armchair a few feet away, Enzo shot up and stared at Mattheo as if he had just announced he’d take a Hungarian Horntail to the ball. Then, he folded up his edition of the daily prophet he had been reading and sighed. “Mate, Theo’s going to kill you. Like, properly murder you.”

“That's what I'm counting on!” Mattheo retorted enthusiastically, undeterred by the skeptical looks on his friend’s faces. “Hold up, it's actually genius. I go out with y/n, Theo’s jealousy overloads, he explodes, finally confesses to her and stops yapping to us about how great she is.” He had framed his words with dramatic gestures, but they didn't have the planned effect.

“Mattheo, you absolute idiot,” said Pansy, so outraged at this display of foolishness that she didn't catch Blaise sneaking some of his chess pieces back onto the board. “You think jealousy is going to work? Have you met Theo? He’ll just brood in the corner forever.”

“She's got a point,” said Enzo, rolling up his newspaper and staggering over to his friends. “Also, Theo’s not going to confess if he thinks she’s into you!”

“You all underestimate his selfishness,” said Mattheo, still wholly convinced of this plan. The others exchanged looks. “Of course he’ll be broody and torn, but in the end, he’ll choose himself, as much as he loves her. And then he'll finally man up and tell her how he feels, she’ll confess right back and they ride out into the sunset together. Come on, it's guaranteed to work!”

A long silence followed, in which Mattheo smiled to himself giddily and the others contemplated the plan. Then- “this is why no one trusts you with anything emotional, Mattheo,” said Blaise, shaking his head. “Why not just talk to Theo instead of creating this drama? Oh, right, because you’re Mattheo.”

“We’ve tried, haven't we?” Mattheo asked in an exasperated voice. “We’ve told both of them again and again to finally get off their ass and make a move and they never listen, because they are oblivious angsty idiots.” He did have a point. Since the start of term, it had been obvious to the whole friend group how head over heels in love the two of you were for each other. Their attempts to get you together had failed miserably, however. Though the two of you were probably the smartest in your friend group, in this matter, you were wholly oblivious.

Enzo was the first to speak. “I swear, if you ruin this for Theo and y/n, I’m taking you down myself.”

“You can try, Berkshire,” grinned Mattheo, reaching for his wand, but Enzo only rolled his eyes and retreated back to his armchair, unfolding the daily prophet and continuing to read where he had left off.

“Wait,” said Pansy, narrowing her eyes at him. “y/n actually said yes to this? She's either braver than I thought or just as mad as you are.” She groaned exasperatedly and rubbed her temple, giving Blaise the opportunity to wipe a few of her chess pieces off the board without her noticing. “I give it two days before Theo starts plotting your untimely demise. Maybe less.”

“Well, that's the spirit, isn't it?” Said Mattheo, brimming with excitement. “Haven't had an equal fight in months.”

“Oh, that's what this is about,” murmured Pansy under her breath and gave Blaise a sharp look at if to say 'I've done all I can, it's your turn now’. Blaise, who wasn't one to let down his girlfriend, frowned thoughtfully. “Mark my words, this isn’t going to end well- for you, at least. I’ll enjoy watching, though.”

“Watching what?”

All four of them shot around at the sound of a drawled out voice coming from the entrance. It was Draco, covered in mud and shouldering a broom, and in his wake Theo, looking no less in need of a bath. “Why weren't you at practice, mate?” Draco asked Mattheo, who surely didn't regret ditching practice now that he'd gotten a clean shirt and a date out of it.

“I had to make a trip to Gryffindor tower,” he answered honestly, eyes roaming over their dirty forms. “Equally as unpleasant, I figure. Though it did ultimately work in my favor. Because I have a date for the ball now.” His observant eyes rested on Theo, who’s tired ones briefly flickered over and narrowed at him in suspicion.

“You’re taking a lion to the ball?” asked Draco skeptically, he seemed unable to imagine Mattheo having the audacity to ask you out, since, as everyone knew, you were Theo’s girl. “You must be really desperate. Who's the unlucky girl?”

“y/n,” grinned Mattheo simply, but the words had their intended effect nonetheless. A loud clatter silenced the common room when Draco’s broom landed on the floor, having slipped right out of his hands. His face was almost as white as his platinum hair as he gaped at Mattheo and then glanced back at Theo who had frozen mid-motion. Now, he straightened up once more to look at Mattheo. Theo, other than Mattheo, understood it to hide his reactions behind a mask of indifference, but his blue eyes were as hard and cold as ice.

“She said yes?”

“Yeah,” grinned Mattheo, failing to read the room, or he simply said the following out of madness. “She seemed pretty stoked!”

“Did she?” asked Theo tight-lipped and Mattheo only grinned in response. Teasing Theo, prodding him, holding you over his head, waiting for him to snap, for his oh-so-great composure to crack was the definition of fun. Mattheo could almost see it flicker in his eyes, the desire to punch him, to punish him, for taking what was his. And then, Theo’s annoying righteousness when it came to you, how he would remind himself that you didn't belong to him, that you could do whatever you pleased.

Mattheo could imagine both sides battling viciously in Theo’s head as he returned his gaze, it was delicious to have him squirm. He only had to watch his step, not play with the fire too much. Theodore Nott was one of the few people he knew that could actually beat his ass if they got poked too much. But he didn't take his eyes off Theo's who seemed just as determined to hold his. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his hands tighten around his broom before they relaxed, he spread his fingers like spiders and disciplined his own body into submission.

“So,” said Theo cooly, a certain bitterness tinging his tone that he kept to a minimum. Of course Theo knew Mattheo was trying to provoke him, and he was determined not to give him the satisfaction, or that was what Mattheo himself concluded. “When exactly did you decide you were into her? Before or after you knew I-” Theo paused and clenched his jaw “Never mind.”

“Does that bother you?” Mattheo asked in faux consideration and he could feel his friends holding their breath. Theo's infamous death stare fell upon him and the grin fell off his face, though the daring look in his eyes did not subside.

When Theo answered, his voice was smooth and controlled. “Doesn’t bother me. I just… didn’t think she’d be your type.”

“Why not?” asked Mattheo, his body ready for attack, every nerve tense in excited anticipation of a good fight. “She’s sweet, pretty, smart-”

“She's too good for you,” Theo cut him off with narrowed eyes, but Mattheo only shrugged. “It's the damn Yule ball, mate, I just need a date so I don't have to eat three courses worth of flubberworms, and I could imagine way worse than spending the evening with her. I mean,” a light smirk curled his lips, “she's not your girlfriend, is she?”

Oh, he could just feel Theo’s fury in his fingertips, the way he looked at him as if he wanted to take his head off. How he had to regret not asking you sooner, how confused over his anger he had to feel. Mattheo reveled in the power he had over him. But Theo smoothed out his features and stared at him through a mask of indifference. “Right.” Looking somehow a lot moodier than when he had stepped in, already brooding, he shouldered his broom and left for the boy’s showers.

His absence left behind a tense silence. Blaise was the first to speak. “Mattheo, mate… you're dead.” But Mattheo only laughed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, unbothered by his pessimistic outlook and still wholly convinced of his plan.

You wondered if Theo had caught wind of the Yule ball arrangement when you caught sight of him the next day in the Great Hall, looking more somber than ever. Even from the Gryffindor table, you could see him staring gloomily down on his porridge as if it had wronged him somehow. You were equally as unable to eat. Gnawing on your lip, you weighed the explanations in your head. Could he be jealous? No, that was too good to be true. It couldn't be.

Maybe he too had made a bet with Draco and had to eat flubberworms if he didn't find a date? Maybe there was some other explanation as to why Theo seemed to be answering all questions directed at him with either a frown or a shrug. Hunched over, his dark locks fell into his eyes as he glowered at his meal, fingers flexing around his fork. It was true, Theo was a grim person, and on bad days, he tended to glower at everyone who crossed his path- could this be just another one of his mood-swings?

“Everything alright?”

Taken aback, you looked at Hermoine who surveyed you with a cautious look in her brown eyes. “You haven't eaten.”

“I'm just not hungry,” you smiled truthfully and discarded the fork. No use pretending, you weren't getting any breakfast down today. Not when Theo looked so distractingly sinister and gorgeous.

But Hermoine didn't look convinced. “What did Riddle want yesterday? When he wanted to talk to you, what did he say?”

Your attention had been captured by Theo giving Mattheo his nastiest death glare, so you only registered the words slowly. “Huh? Oh, he only asked me to be his date for the Yule ball.” you replied, making Hermoine choke on her cereal. “He did what?”

Biting into the sour apple, you decided to come clean. “I said yes.” To escape her unbelieving and quite frankly accusing eyes, you rose from your seat. “See you in Arithmancy, Hermoine,” you said hastily and walked along the Gryffindor table in long strides. When you reached the doorway, however, you turned left and walked along the Slytherin table towards your friends.

Pansy noticed you approaching and waved, making the others look up as well. Mattheo grinned at you and blew you a kiss you rolled your eyes at. When Theo’s eyes fell upon you, however, they softened visibly. He scooted to the side, making space for you to sit down next to him. You smiled at him, albeit intimidated slightly by his bad mood, and moved closer to him. To your immense relief, he returned your smile and grabbed an empty glass to fill it with pumpkin juice and place it before you.

“Decided on a dress yet?” Pansy asked from the other side of the table and you looked at her, therefore missing the slight narrowing of Theo’s eyes at the mention of the ball. You did, however, notice his hand, reaching for yours over the table and interlocking your fingers with his. The Nott family ring on his ring finger burned cold against your skin, the calloused tips of his fingers from all the smoking burns felt even more uneven against your soft skin. You didn't know why you noticed his hands so clearly at this moment. Maybe, you realized, because you had never actually held his hand.

“Uh- yes,” you said, a little flustered, and returned your attention to Pansy who gave you a knowing look. “And you?”

The two of you slipped into a conversation about the ball and your dresses that the other boys participated scarcely in. Blaise asked questions about Pansy’s dress that he had never actually seen before. From time to time, Draco threw in a comment about his dancing skills and Enzo laughed along to Pansy’s teasing. Mattheo made flirty comments towards you when you talked about your dress, glancing at Theo to gauge his reaction.

Only Theo didn't participate in the conversation, though his fingers stayed interlocked with yours. Every now and again, they seemed to tighten, especially when Mattheo directed one of his flirty comments at you. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part. When everyone rose to go to class, he tugged you down again by your interwoven hands. His expression was serious. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Uh, sure,” you smiled, waving the others goodbye. Mattheo winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. You sat back down, but Theo didn't speak immediately. His eyes studied your face, roamed over your features, as if he was seeing you for the first time- really seeing you. Merlin, he was an idiot. He should have asked you before Mattheo would be able to. The thought that you had looked up at Mattheo this sweetly just a day prior, before he had gotten ahead of him and asked you, was gnawing at him.

“You're going to the ball with Mattheo?” he forced the words past his lips, but managed to make them sound casual, as if he was asking about the weather.

“Yes?” you said and immediately scolded yourself for making it sound like a question. Your tone made him lift his brow as his eyes searched yours for any hesitance. “You don't have to go out with him, if you don't want to,” he said.

You could hear your heart beat in your ears. Was he trying to tell you that you had other options? Like him? For one second, you could see yourself, in the dress you had already picked out, side by side with Theo. He had to be a wonderful dancer. But then, you remembered what Mattheo had said. It was a platonic offer, even if he had feelings for you. Which you doubted. The thought of going with him when it was a merely platonic deal for him but meant so much to you, it was almost unbearable.

“I want to,” you replied and your voice sounded steadier than you’d dared to hope. For a second, you thought you saw his expression drop, but you could never trust your eyes with him, his fleeting expressions and flashes of emotions were hard to keep up with, even for you, who could see through him better than most people, by his own admission.

Theo merely nodded and stood up. Before you could, he shouldered your book back as well. Like the gentleman he was, he fended off your protests and held out his arm for you to take, as if you were at a special occasion, when, in truth, it was just another Tuesday in the Great Hall. Both glad and disappointed that nothing had changed, you slipped your arm into his and you left the Hall on your way to the Arithmancy classroom.

The soft hum of chatter filled the entrance hall as students in glittering gowns and sharply tailored dress robes gathered beneath the glowing light of the enchanted candles. The winged doors to the Great Hall were still shut as students who had partners in another house pushed through the crowd in search of them. You, however, didn't have much of a hard time finding your group of Slytherin friends, as any sane student steered clear of them. Before they could make you out in the wave of Gryffindor students that swept over the hall just now, you spotted them in a more secluded corner.

Of course, you noticed Theo first. He looked impossibly handsome in his dress robes. They were black, but with subtle hints of dark green. A dark green that matched the color of your dress. As if you were just meant for each other. Well, in your dreams. You noticed he didn't have a girl on his arm, neither did Enzo. Pansy and Daphne both looked gorgeous in their dresses, and especially Blaise looked hopelessly smitten. Then, there was Mattheo. You were somewhat surprised to see that he was actually wearing something formal. It was already a rarity for him not to be bloody, but to wear something festive was not a sight you ever expected to be subjected to.

Mattheo was the first to spot your approaching frame, a slow grin spreading across his face as he leaned casually against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze seeped over you with an aporoving nod. “Well, aren't you dressed up nicely,” he drawled when you were in earshot, causing the others to take notice of your presence as well. Pansy, ever supportive, let out a low whistle, Blaise wiggled his eyebrows and Enzo gave you a thumbs up. But it was Theo’s reaction that you felt most acutely- a subtle shift in his posture, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as he looked you over. His gaze felt hot on your body and you felt your breath hitch when his stormy eyes locked with yours, a flicker of something unspoken flashing across his face before he quickly glanced away.

Fuck. You were gorgeous. Of course, he'd always known you were pretty, but seeing you in that dress did something to him. That green was the color of his house, of his family, the color of him. You looked like his, even though Mattheo put an arm around your waist and pulled you towards him. He could have killed him, he might have, if you hadn't let out a bright laugh at something he had said that stilled every and all remains of fury in him. Your laugh was disarming, especially when you looked over at him and gifted him one of your sweet smiles. “Hey, Theo.”

He could only nod, unable to take his eyes off you, even when the doors to the great hall opened and the group slowly made their way towards them. His gaze zeroed in on Mattheo's hand on your lower back. That was not Mattheo's spot, that was where his hand lay when he was walking you to class or Hogsmeade. Unable to look anywhere else, he followed the others mechanically, unaware of the glimpses you stole at him to gauge his reaction. But all you could see was indifference.

When you stepped through the doors you were momentarily distracted from Theo. The Great Hall was alight with blue light, decked in ice crystals. The usual four house tables had made way for a multitude of smaller, round tables surrounding the dance floor that took up the better part of the hall. Mattheo led the way to one table in close proximity to the dance floor, which surprised Theo. Usually, Mattheo preferred corners over the center.

Mattheo pulled out your chair for you before Theo had the chance to and - wether by chance or because he was a snarky asshole - sat down in between Theo and you. With a sly grin at Theo, he interlocked your fingers over the table and moved closer to you. In that moment, Theo swore to himself that he would dance with you today. He'd stay up until three in the morning if necessary, but he would hold you in his arms tonight, twirl you around in that damn dress and see the light of the crystals reflected in your eyes. And if he had to hex Mattheo, he would gladly do so.

Your laughter rang in his ears and he cursed himself. Hex Mattheo, and ruin your night? What right did he even have to feel like this? As much as he hated to admit it, Mattheo was right. You weren't his girlfriend, he had no claim over you. His possessiveness was sick, twisted and entirely selfish. You were his friend and he should only want the best for you. What he had masked as ‘the best for you’ was no more than what fulfilled his desires. He was being a horrible friend to you.

“Wanna dance, angel?” Theo couldn't even find it in himself to feel anything but bitterness when Mattheo rose and offered you his outstretched hand. Over his death stare directed at the table, he missed the way you glanced over at him before taking it and allowing Mattheo to eagerly drag you to the dance floor. The music was fairly quick and as Mattheo twirled you around, you let him pull you into him and mirrored his steps. Mattheo was a fairly skilled dancer, but you struggled to keep up with his extravagant style and quick steps.

Mattheo twirled you around so fast you could barely see beyond the flashes of blue that remained of the room. And even when a more slow piece came on, he found a way to keep you on your toes. “He's looking over,” you whispered after daring a glance over your shoulder to see that Theo's brooding gaze was fixed on the two of you.

“You even have eyes in your head?” grinned Mattheo, pulling you closer by your waist. “He's been looking at you the whole evening.” A smirk curled his lip. “Told ya”

You were a little too out of breath to answer, but when Mattheo leaned close to whisper a question in your ear, you nodded, albeit a little hesitant. Your rowdy dancing partner pulled you even closer until there was barely any space between you two. When he said something, anything, you giggled and he laughed along, even though neither of you remembered what he had said. In spite of the dancing, Mattheo managed to dip his head down and trail pecks up your neck to the shell of your ear. The shudder that went through your body was not as much a result of his lips, but a reaction to the way Theo’s fists clenched as you locked eyes.

Worry and stupid excitement coiled in your stomach. The way he was glaring at you through his dark locks, his fists clenching and unclenching, his cerulean eyes so dark, his posture so tense as if he was a predator ready to devour his prey, was so damn attractive that you couldn't help but stare longer than you intended to, before you managed to avert your eyes and focus them back on Mattheo. But you couldn't help but worry what his tense appearance might mean. Had he seen through Mattheo's plan to make him jealous and considered this a betrayal of your friendship?

Meanwhile, Theo had to summon up his last reserves of restraint when his best mate’s hand crept down your back, further than he was supposed to, teetering the edge of inappropriateness. But you looked so happy, laughing along to Mattheo's jokes. Though somehow, he had missed the repeated glances you cast at him all throughout the dance.

When the next number came on, you parted from Mattheo who lifted his brows. “That's enough. If he hasn't done anything by now, I must be right. You were wrong about these supposed feelings, Mattheo.” You sighed and shook your head about your own stupidity. Of course Theo hadn't reacted, you’d been right all along. Still, disappointment stung in your heart. Maybe you had held on to hope. Oh, who were you kidding, a part of you had believed Mattheo, and now you felt way worse than you had before. Before Mattheo could talk, you parted from him and left the dance floor.

Theo slowly, dangerously, lifted his head from his knuckles as his gaze followed your figure, ducking in between dancing couples to make your way back over. Your expression showed disappointment, sadness… you’d always been easy to read for him. When he asked you about it, you said you showed your emotions openly on purpose. Why, he had asked, and you'd laughed and said that you wanted to make people feel at ease and safe when talking to you, so you showed yourself to them to invite them in, make them feel welcome.

Even though he didn't fully understand, he admired you for it, recognized it as a strength when Mattheo had outright laughed at your explanation, earning him a sinister glare. But right now, Theo desperately wished he wouldn't be faced with your sorrow, it would make it easier to keep himself from walking over to Mattheo, drag him out into the hall and finally confront him. A horrible suspicion dawned on him as he locked eyes with Mattheo, who had been watching your retreating figure as well. When they locked eyes, he grinned, winked and disappeared into the crowd of dancing bodies. Had he been using you to make Theo jealous, to tease him for his personal satisfaction?

His sinister thoughts were quelled when you reached the table and sat down next to him, bending over with a groan and slipping out of your heels. But before you could even grab a slice of cake to drown your sorrows in sweets, someone got a hold of your hand. You followed the arm and saw Theo, looking at you with a serious expression. His grip was soft, as if you were fragile, made out of glass, made to look pretty and shatter. But his eyes were hard as stone. “What did he say to you?”

“Huh?” you asked, genuinely perplexed at the growl in his voice. “Who- what- You mean Mattheo?” A curt nod. You understood. Theo must've misinterpreted your bad mood upon leaving the dance floor for hurt at something Mattheo had said. “Nothing,” you said quickly. “Everything's alright.” But your reassurances couldn't wipe the skepticism from his eyes. “Look, it's just my feet that started to hurt, alright? It's not Mattheo's fault.”

Though he still looked doubtful, Theo seemed to accept your explanation and reached over to cut you a large piece of cake. In spite of your expensive dress, you brought your knees to your chest as you started eating, but your sudden appetite quickly subsided. With a long sigh, you leaned your head on Theo’s shoulder and reveled in his warmth. “‘M sorry,” you murmured under your breath, unsure if he would even catch it.

He did, and frowned, you could hear it in his voice though you didn't see his face. “What for, amore?” Amorina. It meant ‘little love’, or that was what the muggle dictionary books said. Those damn Italian nicknames. His accent, barely noticeable in everyday conversation, was thicker when he spoke hushed and you allowed yourself to revel in how it made you feel, just for a moment. Then, you shrugged, hoping it would be enough of an explanation for now. Would you ever be able to tell him why you had gone to the ball with Mattheo or would you sooner die of embarrassment?

This wasn't so bad. Actually, it was quite nice. You rocked slightly in the rhythm of the music and leaned into Theo who, in turn, leaned onto you carefully. Somehow, your hands had found each other. Draco was dancing with Daphne, Blaise and Pansy were making out in a distant corner of the room and Enzo was at the buffet to get seconds. It was quite peaceful, almost like you two were the only thing that mattered and all around you was just noise and light and colors. They would fade, he wouldn't, and you wouldn't either.

Your peace was only disturbed when Mattheo arrived, who, to your not-really surprise, had a giggling girl holding onto his arm. Unbeknownst to you, Mattheo had not given up just yet. If Theo's selfishness wasn't stronger than his desire to see you happy, maybe his knight-in-shining-armor urges would be. He grabbed your plate from in front of you, ignoring Theo's frowns, dug the fork into it and held it out to the giggling girl that was clutching his dress robes.

“You enjoying yourself, darling?” he asked and she nodded, giving him a sultry look. He cast you a deliberately indifferent look. “You don't mind, angel, do you?” Though he didn't dare look at Theo and give himself away, he could practically feel him fuming.

“Knock yourselves out,” you replied with a wave of your hand but Theo was not so quick to dismiss the scene. He rose from his seat, feeling as if all his frustration and resentment of the last week had reached its peak and was ready to boil over. In moments like these, when he allowed his anger to escape, to be felt just for a moment before funneling it towards the intended target with deliberate precision, he could feel himself getting calmer. The rushing in his ears subsided, his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as he looked down on his best mate.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Taking a gorgeous girl to dance with me,” Mattheo answered casually, grinning at the girl on his arm. How could he act as if you weren't even there? How dare he run to another when he had taken you to be his date, was he never satisfied?

“You already have a date, scemo,” he growled. By now, a few pairs of eyes had gotten wind of the brewing storm. A few of them stepped closer to observe the scene, others pushed through the crowd to put some space between them and the two boys who now glared at each other. Mattheo was tense, brimming with excitement and pushed away the girl. Theo, on the other hand, seemed almost unnaturally calm, his hand slowly slipping into his robes in search of his wand.

“Theo,” you said quietly, in an ineffectual attempt to avoid more attention. “I really don't mind.” He cast you a quick glance and you knew it hadn't been enough. His eyes were soft all of the sudden, but you knew he wouldn't back down. And you weren't going to lie, it did warm your chest that he was so willing to stand up for you. Though you didn't want the situation to escalate into an actual fight because of your’s and Mattheo’s stupidity.

Mattheo would apologize to you for the following later, but now he had to wound Theo up so much that he’d attack him with bare hands, Mattheo's preferred method of fighting, because he knew he couldn't beat the academic weapon Theo in a wizarding duel. “Yeah, she was kind of a bore so I-” But he didn't get to finish that sentence, because Theo had abandoned the search for his wand, surged forward and tackled Mattheo so they fell to the ground in a heap of robes and fists.

You had rarely seen Theo fight. Well, that was not quite true. You'd seen him hex people, curse fellow students, but never like this. The punches he delivered to Mattheo’s face were less deliberate and full of rage. It was a show of force unlike any you'd ever seen from him. When tackling Matteo, he had discarded his robes and now his white shirt got the first red spots. Mattheo hit and kicked back with the same fervor you already knew from him, and you could see it in his eyes, this was all just a game for him.

Students screamed when a resounding crack echoed through the hall, amplified by the sudden silence that had come over the crowd as everyone formed a circle around the fighting boys. Theo had broken Mattheo's nose, you were sure of it, and for a moment, you thought Mattheo was down, but of course not. Without a sound of pain, he shot up and tackled Theo, who had hesitated for a split second too long, to the ground. Wherever they threatened to crash into the wall of onlookers, the students moved back like a coordinated swarm of fish.

Slowly, Theo seemed to get the upper hand on Mattheo who seemed slightly knocked out from the hit in the face that had broken his nose. But nonetheless, while Theo’s expression was bitter and hard as he brought his fist down on Mattheo's face again and again, the latter laughed, almost crazily, coughing up blood. His laughter was the loudest sound, and for a good minute, you doubted his sanity. In contrast, Theo was eerily silent as he beat Mattheo with the utmost concentration, jaw clenched and eyes full of disdain.

Finally, the headmaster managed to push through the crowd. Some of them were chanting, others were covering their faces with their hands. Dumbledore assessed the situation in one glance, and you thought he even winked at you, before he pulled out his wand. As if pulled apart by invisible hands, Mattheo and Theo were ripped apart and both stumbled a few feet back, making the crowd on either side burst to scramble away.

They were both heaving. Mattheo looked worse than Theo, his nose was visibly broken and his face was littered with cuts and bruises and two black eyes. Theo’s lip and nose were bleeding, dripping crimson upon his stained shirt, as were his fists, and a darkening bruise bloomed above his right jawline. Both of them looked ready to jump back into it, if it hadn't been for a very disgruntled Snape, who stepped in between and sneered at Theo especially. “What a display! You have dishonored your house with your public brawling-”

“Now, now, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly and smiled in understanding. “Tempers run high at events like these. I can remember, in my youth, there was no ball without a good duel. Of course, some choose the more direct approach.” His eyes twinkled.

Unfortunately, Mattheo chose the exact moment to send you a wink and Theo, who looked just about a hundred percent done with his bullshit, took a step towards him, only to be roughly pushed back by Snape. It couldn't stop the words leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, though. “Sei praticamente mio fratello,” growled Theo with a wild look in his blue eyes. “come hai potuto farmi questo, pezzo di merda?"

Mattheo was still gasping for breath and wincing at every inhale, but he grinned nonetheless. “non parlo italiano, you dumbass,” he sneered with what you could only assume was a heavy British accent, and Theo, still fuming, spit on the ground over Snapes shoulder who was still holding him back.

“Now, now,” said Dumbledore with a level of indulgence you could only admire him for. “I believe, Mr Riddle, you should see Miss Pomphrey. As for you, Mr Nott, how about a walk to, ah- cool off?”

Theo pushed Snape off of him who glared at him, only to be glared at right back. “Twenty points off Slytherin, Nott,” he said with clear disdain in his voice. Before Theo could protest or do something rash (you had never seen him like this, he looked like he was capable of anything), you grabbed his hand and started pulling. To your immense surprise and relief, Theo gave in immediately, following you as you pushed through the students, out of the door, through the entrance hall, and finally, out into the dark grounds where the chilly night air finally cleared your head a little.

You sat down on the stone steps and Theo followed suit, still breathing heavily and flexing his hands. For a few minutes, you didn't dare speak. When you finally managed to work up the words and the courage, it was Theo who spoke first. His voice had lost all temper, all edge, it was full of regret. “I'm sorry, amore.” Taken aback, he turned your head to look at him. His gaze was fixed on his hands, covered in both Mattheo's and his blood, seeping out of his knuckles.

“What for?” you asked and he finally looked at you, albeit as if you were asking a very ridiculous question. “Cazzo, for ruining your night. You deserve better, I was a-” But you didn't let him finish, you reached over to wrap your arms around him and pull him in, needing his warmth more than ever. Immediately, his arms engulfed your form and he pulled you into him so that you were sitting halfway in his lap, but neither of you cared. Maybe even without realizing, he rocked you back and forth lightly and you breathed out, breathed in, let the smell of him consume you whole. Cigarettes had never smelled better.

When Theo reluctantly released you, his gaze trailed over the goosebumps on your arms. Your dress, as wonderful as it was, did not have sleeves. “Let's go,” he said softly. He didn't say where, but you didn't care, you trusted him. So you let him pull you up and back inside, down the staircase to the dungeons. None of you said a word. When you stepped inside, the Slytherin common room was deserted, as everyone was still upstairs, enjoying themselves.

Theo urged you towards the couch, but you had come to a halt. You knew you needed to come clean. Now. Before he had the chance to actually take Mattheo's head off. Mistaking your hesitation for doubt rather than guilt, Theo let his arms engulf you once more. It may have been a trick of your imagination, but you thought you heard him breathe in the scent of your hair. “Maleditelo, that bastard. Merlin, I could have broken his fucking jar if they'd given me one more minute. Curse him for doing that to you. I’d never have-” He fell silent.

You sighed against his chest, silently wishing you'd never taken part in Mattheo's crazy plan. “I didn't mind that,” you murmured into his blood-stained shirt, reveling in the feeling of his thumbs brushing over your shoulder as he held you. But it stopped, and Theo pulled away, face contorted into a bitter smile as he began to pace in front of you. “No, of course you didn't. Sei troppo dannatamente bonario, troppo gentile, troppo perfetto.”

“Theo!” you said loudly and that made him look down on you. Your voice was shaking slightly. “I’m sorry.” He frowned, and then it all spilled out of you. How Mattheo had proposed the idea of making him jealous because he was convinced he liked you, how you had said yes because you were a lovesick idiot, how he had been purposefully riling him up and you had went along with it all. “I'm sorry,” you said shakily, holding back tears. “I was so stupid, this is all my fault, I'm so, so sorry Theo.”

During the whole tale, Theo hadn't moved an inch. Now, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from out of his pocket, ignited one with a bit of wandless magic and took a long drag. Usually, Theo didn't smoke when you were around, because he knew you didn't like it. But desperate times seemed to call for desperate measures. Staring down at the glowing cigarette between his fingers, Theo seemed to gauge the words, weigh them on his tongue, before he spoke. “You like me?”

“I love you,” you confessed, hiding your face in your hands. “God, Theo, I'm so sorry.”

“Why didn't you just talk to me?” You peeked at him through your fingers, but he seemed calm. Sure, he was frowning, but the cigarette seemed to have helped. His gaze was fixed on you as he studied your expression, what little he could catch a glimpse of, anyway.

You let out a helpless sigh, feeling ridiculous. “Because… you know, you’re you.”

At that, his frown deepened and he took another drag of his cigarette, as if to calm himself. Then, he flicked it into an ashtray and approached you slowly. His gentle hands came up to pry your hands from your face. They fell helplessly at your sides. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with furrowed brows. “Are you intimidated by me, amorina?”

“N- no!” you stuttered desperately, “it's just…” You let out a long sigh, not daring to look at him. “I was scared it might ruin our friendship, it just… seemed like the best way.” As you spoke them, you realized the stupidity of your words, and Theo, too, raised his brow at you. “You thought going to the ball with Mattheo to make me jealous, letting him kiss you on the dance floor and rile me up all evening was the best way, did you?”

“Yes?” you squeaked, never having felt this abashed in your life.

Theo rolled his eyes, but he leaned down and suddenly he was so close. So close you could feel, hear and smell his breath, still reeking of cigarettes. So close you suddenly realized just how blue his eyes were, a deep cerulean blue. So close your breath hitched. Theo's voice was but a whisper, but he seemed distracted, his eyes darting between your eyes and - could it be? - down to your lips. “Stupid plan.”

“I know,” you breathed, looking at him with wide, teary eyes that Theo wanted to burn into his memory forever. He couldn't find it in him to be mad at you. Not when you looked at him like this, not when he could smell you.

“It worked,” was all he said, and you could barely comprehend the words before his lips crashed onto yours.

You'd imagined many times how it might feel to kiss Theo, too feel those soft lips on yours. Would it be messy? Gentle? Rough? It turned out to be none of those, or perhaps all of those. Kissing Theo was dizzyingly overwhelming. His lips moved in yours in a controlled passion, slow and meticulous, but at the same time, hungry. So, so hungry when he let out a groan and parted your lips with his to slip his tongue into your mouth. To explore, to discover, to make you whimper against him as he pulled you in tighter by the waist.

You suddenly felt impossibly hot and bothered, especially when Theo's lips departed from your mouth to nip at your jaw and travel down the crook of your neck, biting, sucking, caressing, worshipping. When you felt something solid poke against your thigh, you gasped, nervousness coiling in your stomach. “M-maybe,” you stuttered, “now that all is cleared up, we should maybe go look after Mattheo in the-”

You gasped loudly when Theo bit down hard on your neck, silencing you effectively with the growl that escaped his throat. “Don't say his fucking name, amore.” You nodded frantically, biting back moans, and Theo started lapping at the bite, rubbing his tongue over it in soothing circles as his hands travelled down, further down before they reached the slit in your dress and he grabbed a handful of your thigh. “You can scream mine instead.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and you jumped, Theo took a step back from you to glare at your intruders. It was Pansy, and, following right behind, Blaise. She had her brows lifted and grinned. “Holy hell, get a r-”

“Get out, Pansy,” Theo cut her off, fingers digging into your thigh. Though she held Blaise back from standing up for her, she rolled her eyes at his tone and turned to leave. “Lock the door,” Theo called after them and you somehow found yourself giggling. “Theo, you can't just shut your whole house out of the common room.” You felt light headed, slightly dizzy, but you smiled and he managed to return it. “'Course I can.”

He let go of your thigh and walked a few steps, over to what had to be an enchanted record player. With a tip of his wand, it started playing a slow song. Theo looked back at you, extending his arm, offering you his right hand. A small smile played around his lips as he crooked his head to the side. “Dance with me, amorina.” And of course, you took it, let him pull you towards him and closed your eyes as he began to move you to the slow rhythm. Somehow, your head landed on his shoulder, his came to encircle your waist as you moved, barely taking a step.

He would make the stolen night up to you. Every single second.

[c0ffeejelly1]

You can’t just say things like that!..

-Bros the type of guy to hug you from behind and whisper that one soft sorry in your ear (ESPECIALLY WITH THE WHOLE ‘sorry baby..’ AGRHHH)

Cw: none.

* You were really ticked off at him.

* You knew he was fully aware of his mistake, so why was he pretending he didn’t have a clue?

* His attempt to play innocent just made you even angrier. He was clearly in the wrong.. he had to have been aware of that.

* And to think he had the audacity, the nerve to lounge on the couch with that sour expression, eyebrows knitted together, staring off like he was the one suffering? Ha!

* It just made you chop the vegetables you were going to cook even harder with the knife.

* It was pathetic. You could only think to laugh mockingly at the scene.

* …Seriously. was this his way of trying to gaslight you?

* As if that was going to work.

* You were way above that.

* You knew better than that.

* That was until you heard the creaking of floorboards and soft footsteps behind you.

* It was funny how he could seem so small despite his size…

* But still you totally played it cool and ignored him.

* Until you felt the soft embrace of arms wrapping around your waist, his chin sat in the crest between your neck and shoulder, and slow breathes tickling your ear each time his chest would rise and fall.

* For a brief moment, you felt a wave of tension wash over you, but you quickly shook it off, determined to seem unfazed.

* You were meant to be upset with him.

* …Yet, the way he held you so tenderly, as if you were his most treasured possession, made you want to both punch and kiss that infuriating face of his.

* You feel him sigh deeply his nose brushing against your shoulder before pressing light kisses to the skin.

* Was he trying to seduce you?

* Didn’t he realize how angry you were? You were practically seething!.. right? At least you think you were.

* once again though, you found yourself tensing when he whispered something that could make any woman weak in the knees..

* “..I’m sorry baby..”

* Lord have mercy.

* You turned to face him, finally getting a clear view of his face, causing him to pull his hands away from your waist and shove them into his sweatpants pockets.

* You couldn’t help but gulp a little at the adorable, puppy-like look he had; it really suited his handsome features…

* But you had to keep your cool.

* So, you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes before asking…

* “Sorry for what exactly?…”

* You wanted to hear him say it.

* Otherwise what was the purpose of even apologising?

* He only looked at you with a small pout on his face before placing both his hands gently on your cheek, a new sense of determination shining in his eyes even with his now flustered face.

* “What are you-..”

* He unexpectedly cut you off, catching you by surprise as his lips met yours

* You didn’t know how to react at first, but it was clear that the kiss was short because once he pulled back, the significance of the moment hit you.

* He gently brushed your lips, keeping his eyes locked on yours, a dusty pink scattered on his cheeks, before he spoke again.

* “..Everything..? I dunno…please just forgive me…”

* At this stage, did it even matter?

* If you were going to be honest with yourself, you had already moved on…

* Yet, watching him be all sweet and eager for your forgiveness? …It totally tugged at your heartstrings.

* A small grin appeared on your face before you leaned in for another kiss, the warmth of the moment enveloping you like a soft blanket.

* You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking with his, searching for the same warmth reflected in his gaze.

* “If I’m being honest...I’m not really mad at you anymore.”

* The corners of his mouth curled into a smile, mirroring your own, as you felt another flutter in your chest before he wrapped his arms around you, inhaling your fragrance, pulling you into another embrace.

* He felt a wave of relief knowing you had forgiven him..

* Still, one thought kept nagging at him.

* “Hey..babe?”

* “Mm?”

* “So…why were you really angry to begin with?”

* “You mean you really don’t know?”

* You lean back a bit from the hug a small pout on your face, your hands resting on his chest while his arms stayed snug around your waist.

* “You ate the remaining takeout I was saving for myself..”

* “..seriously.”

Characters I had in mind while writing this:

REIGEN (mob psycho 100)

Saitama (one punch man)

Josuke (JOJO’S bizarre adventure)

Kagami, KISE (kuroko’s basketball)

AREN (the disastrous life of saiki k)

HINATA, BOKUTO, Kageyama, OIKAWA, Ukai, Dachi, Atsumu, Lev (haikyuu)

YUJI, choso (jujustu kaisen)

REINER, Eren, Jean (Attack on titan)

LEORIO (hunterXhunter)

- any character you would like

[inseobts]

Hello! I'd like to please request a little scenario for multiple characters if possible; I'm especially interested in your take on this with Law, Sanji and Ace given their backstory. If you're open to writing for the ladies as well then adding Robin into the mix would be appreciated! My idea is simple; an S/O with a child, and the aftermath of discovering that fact. I don't mind if it's an established relationship and there just wasn't an opportunity to meet the kid before or something else, I just like the idea of these characters dealing with the concept of surprise family/parenthood, the angst that may arise from dealing with the role of a stepparent if they want a relationship (and its happy ending if possible!) Good luck with all the requests, I hope you have fun with them!

Found Family (Reader with a Kid)

gn!reader

characters: law, sanji, ace, nico robin

tags: under each character + secret child

a/n: I started it with a fem!reader in mind and changed it to gender neutral only later since the post didn't mention the gender, so please if I missed some changes please tell me

words count: around 0.8k - 1.7k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Law:

Tags: Established Relationship, Surprise Family, Angst to Comfort, Fluff

The wind blows soft through the port town. Law steps off the ship, coat flapping behind him, hands in his pockets. He’s quieter than usual, eyes scanning the street ahead. He’s not here on a mission. He’s here for you.

You sent a letter three weeks ago.

Just one line: “I need to talk. Come if you can.”

Law doesn’t like surprises. But he comes.

He finds you standing outside a small house with peeling paint and flower pots on the windowsill. You smile when you see him, but it’s tight, like you’re scared.

He frowns “You alright?”

You nod “Yeah… I just—can we go inside? I don’t want to do this out here.”

Law follows you in. It’s warm. Smells like soup and soap. A small jacket hangs on a hook by the door. Not yours. Too small.

His sharp eyes catch it, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

You lead him to the living room and sit. He stands. Watches you.

You look down “There’s something I never told you.”

Law’s voice is low “I figured.”

You breathe in deep “I… have a kid.”

Silence.

You look up. His face is unreadable. Like ice. You hate that expression, it means he’s trying to think without feeling. To stay calm.

He speaks finally “How old?”

You blink “She’s five.”

He does the math. That means before him.

“She yours?” he asks, even though he already knows.

You nod “Yes. Mine. The... other parent's gone. Completely.”

He nods slowly. His voice is cold, but not cruel “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared.” You twist your hands “We met during a war. We never talked about kids, or… futures. Then we got together, and things felt good. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You thought this would ruin it?”

“I thought you might walk away.”

He looks away “You didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not fair,” you say, standing now too “I’ve been through things. I didn’t know how you’d react. You’re not… You don’t talk about family. You barely talk about your past.”

His jaw tenses. You hit a nerve.

You try softer “I wanted to wait for the right moment. But there never was one. Until now.”

Silence again.

Then small footsteps.

You freeze.

Law turns just as a tiny figure walks into the room, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

“Who’s this?”

Her eyes are big, curious. Law stares.

You kneel “Sweetheart, this is Law. He’s… He’s my friend.”

Law doesn’t speak. He just looks. She hides behind your leg.

You don’t blame her.

“She’s shy,” you say “But she’s smart. She reads pirates like storybooks.”

Law kneels too, finally, lowering himself to her level. His voice softens.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he says “I’m just… surprised.”

Your daughter peeks out “You talk funny.”

Law blinks.

You laugh nervously “He’s from the North Blue.”

“Oh.” She tilts her head “Do you have a boat?”

Law nods “A submarine.”

Her eyes widen “Cool…”

She steps forward. He doesn’t move.

Then she offers her rabbit “You wanna hold Mr. Bun?”

You almost cry.

Law takes it. Careful. Gentle. Like it’s glass.

He looks at you over her head. Still unsure. Still quiet.

But he’s here, and he’s not walking away.

The rabbit sits on the table between you.

Law hasn’t said much since dinner. He eats quietly, politely. Your daughter sits beside him, munching rice balls like they’re treasure. She’s talking to him. A lot.

“Do submarines have beds?”

“Yes.”

“Do you sleep in them?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you dream of fish?”

“…No.”

You nearly laugh into your cup. Law sends you a look. It says help me. You shrug. You’re doing fine.

When she finishes eating, you ask her to brush her teeth. She runs off with Mr. Bun in her arms. The house falls quiet again.

Law leans back in his chair.

“You didn’t even flinch,” you say “When she offered you the rabbit.”

He shrugs “She trusted me. I didn’t want to break that.”

You nod, chewing on your lip “That means a lot, Law.”

He looks at you. Eyes sharp but not cold “I’m not angry.”

“Really?”

“I’m hurt.” His voice is honest now “You didn’t tell me. I could’ve helped. Been there. Or at least known what I was walking into.”

“I know,” you whisper “I was scared. I didn’t want to push you away.”

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N. I’ve lost family. I’ve lost everything. But I never said I didn’t want to build something new.”

You look down at your hands “She’s my whole world.”

“I can see that.”

“And now that you’ve met her… what do you want?”

He pauses.

That pause stretches long and sharp between you.

Then, softly “I don’t know.”

You nod. You expected that. You’re not mad. Just scared again.

Law stands and walks to the window “She’s a good kid. Brave. You raised her well.”

You smile a little “She’s got my temper.”

“I noticed.”

You walk over to him. You both stare outside. The moon is bright tonight.

“I’m not asking you to be her father,” you say “You don’t have to… take that role if you don’t want it.”

He turns “What if I want to?”

Your breath catches.

“I don’t know how to be that,” he continues “A father. A parent. I’m… I’m a surgeon. A pirate. I know how to fight, how to cut, how to survive. Not how to raise a child.”

You place your hand over his “She doesn’t need perfect. Just present. Just kind. Even I didn’t know how to be a good parent.”

He watches you. Something cracks in his expression.

“I want you.” he says.

“I want you too.”

“But I can’t lie to you… I’m afraid. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You squeeze his hand “We’ll learn together. She’s not looking for perfect either. She just wants someone who doesn’t leave.”

That hits hard.

He nods and then tiny footsteps again.

Your daughter peeks from the hallway “Hey... can he read me a story?”

Law blinks “Me?”

She nods “You have a cool voice.”

You laugh softly “What do you say?”

He hesitates. Then walks over.

“Alright, let’s try.” he says “But only one.”

She beams.

You stand in the hallway, listening through the door. His voice is low, slow, careful. Reading a picture book about sea creatures. She’s tucked in, eyes half-closed. The rabbit is between them on the bed.

Law finishes the page. She murmurs, “You’re not scary like someone said.”

You gasp quietly. Betrayal.

Law chuckles “Someone said that?”

“Mhm. They said you’re all sharp eyes and brooding. But you’re kinda soft.”

Law mutters, “I am never going to live that down.”

You grin and walk back to the living room.

He stays. Finishes the story. Even tucks her in.

When he comes out, he looks… changed.

“You did good.” you say.

“I didn’t even sweat.”

“Liar.”

He sighs, then smirks “Okay, maybe a little.”

You take his hand again “So…”

“So.” he echoes.

“You staying the night?”

He raises a brow “You asking?”

You smile “I have tea. And a couch. Or a bed, if you behave.”

He smirks “I’ll try my best.”

── .✦ Sanji:

Tags: Flirting Sanji, Soft Sanji, Humor, Fluff, Unexpected Bonding, Found Family

Sanji flirts with you every time he sees you.

At the market “Ah, Y/N! Did the sun rise just to see your face today?”

At the docks “Want me to carry those for you, my love? Your hands are far too lovely for heavy lifting!”

Even after the battle in your city, where the Strawhats helped “You’re even more beautiful covered in blood. Should I be worried about how much I love that?”

You never fall for it. You roll your eyes. You walk away. You don’t even blush.

It drives him insane.

“You’re difficult to get,” he says one afternoon, following you through town “but I like that.”

“I don’t fall,” you say flatly “Especially not for men with hearts in their eyes.”

“Ahhh, but my heart is sincere!”

You stop and face him “Sanji. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

You pause. He’s annoying, yes. But not bad. He’s never pushed you too far. Never said anything mean. Just flirty. Charming. Too charming.

You sigh “Fine. You want to know me?”

He lights up “Yes! Of course!”

“Then come with me.”

You lead him through town, away from the market, away from the noise. Into a quiet part of the island. A garden path. A small house tucked in the trees.

He’s still smiling “So this is where the beautiful Y/N hides. A date, then?”

You don’t answer. You open the door. Inside, it’s neat. Warm. Lived-in. There are toys in the corner. A tiny pair of shoes by the door.

Sanji frowns “Is this… your house?”

“Wait here.” you say.

You go into the back room. A few seconds later, you return, holding a small child. Sleepy-eyed. Holding a stuffed whale. While another lady leaves the house as if her job there is finished.

You look Sanji in the eye.

“This is my daughter.”

Sanji freezes.

Dead silent.

You wait.

You expect a nervous laugh. A fast goodbye. A dramatic “I’m not ready for this!” speech.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead…

“Her hair’s like yours,” he says softly “She’s beautiful.”

Your daughter rubs her eyes, looks at him “Who’s that?”

You answer “Just... a friend.”

Sanji kneels slowly “Hi, sweetheart. I’m Sanji. Can I say hello?”

She shrugs. He waves. She waves back with the whale.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Whale.” Sanji says seriously.

You blink.

She giggles.

You didn’t expect this.

You make tea. Sanji helps. He insists, actually.

“She can’t have sugar this late.” you say.

“Then honey,” he says “Gentle on the stomach.”

You watch as he puts her cup in front of her like a butler. Bows. She bows back. You nearly choke on your tea.

“Do you cook?” she asks.

“Oh yes,” he says “Better than anyone.”

She claps “Make us dinner!”

Sanji glances at you. You nod. Why not?

He makes a simple meal. It smells amazing. Your daughter eats two full plates.

After, she sits in his lap and shows him a book of sea animals. He listens. Really listens.

You don’t understand what’s happening.

You were trying to scare him away.

Instead, he’s… perfect.

When she falls asleep, he carries her to her bed. Quiet. Gentle.

He tucks her in, fixes her whale beside her, and kisses her forehead.

You follow him back to the living room in silence.

“Well...” you say, still confused “That wasn’t what I expected.”

He smiles but smaller this time. Softer.

“I flirt because it’s fun,” he says “But I stayed because I wanted to see you.”

You stare at him “You weren’t scared?”

“I was shocked,” he admits “But not scared. You’re a single parent. That’s strong. She’s lucky to have you.”

You look away “I thought it would make you leave.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

You smile at that and look at him again. This time longer.

Sanji isn’t just charm. He’s heart. He’s warmth.

And… maybe you were wrong about him.

Your daughter’s asleep.

Sanji’s sitting on the couch, arms stretched over the backrest like he belongs there. His jacket is off, sleeves rolled up, and a soft smile on his lips.

He looks so… calm. Like this is normal. Like he wants this.

You sit across from him, legs tucked under you. You sip your tea. Your hands are shaking just a little, but you hide it well.

“Thanks for dinner,” you say “She loved it.”

“She’s adorable,” he says, smiling “And polite. You’ve done an amazing job.”

You stare into your cup “I didn’t do it alone. But… it’s been a long time since I shared her with someone.”

Sanji watches you quietly. No teasing now. Just listening.

You swallow. Here goes nothing.

“So,” you say “I’ve decided something.”

He leans forward “Oh?”

You lift your eyes to meet his “I’m saying yes.”

His brows lift “Yes to what?”

You smile “A date.”

He freezes “Wait. A—really?”

You nod.

“I mean, I’ve been asking for weeks, but I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” you say “I just didn’t believe you.”

“And now?”

“Now I do.”

He stares at you for a second. Then a slow, beautiful grin spreads across his face. Like he’s won a war. Like the clouds finally moved for the sun.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days.

“You—you have no idea what this means to me, Y/N.”

You chuckle “I might have some idea.”

“Do you want flowers? Candles? Music? Should I wear a suit? I’ll cook, of course—”

You laugh softly “Just come as you are.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly flustered “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

You sip your tea again. Calm on the outside.

But inside? Your heart is thundering. So loud it feels like it echoes in your chest. And he doesn't even know your heart is actually beating faster than his own.

You’ve had to be strong for so long. For your child. For yourself. Love always felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford.

But Sanji… he’s something else.

Not because he’s charming.

But because when it really mattered, he stayed.

And now, you let yourself fall a little deeper.

You stand. Walk over. And press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He goes still.

You pull back and say quietly, “Can't wait for the date.”

His eyes widen, then fill with something warm surprised, happy, maybe even a little nervous.

“You… really?” he asks, softer than you’ve ever heard him.

You nod “Don’t make me regret it.”

His laugh is breathless “Never.”

You smile, heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. He doesn’t need to know yet how much this means.

A few nights later for your first date Sanji goes all out, but not in a flashy way. It’s thoughtful. Intimate.

He sets up dinner on the ship’s deck. Small candles, soft music from a den den mushi radio, and a view of the sea under stars. He cooks something warm and comforting, not fancy, just full of love.

You talk for hours. About silly things, quiet things, your pasts and dreams. It’s easy. He listens more than he speaks, and when he does talk, it’s gentle.

No cheesy lines. Just Sanji. Real and warm.

After dessert, he walks you home in silence. Not awkward, just peaceful. The kind of quiet where you don’t need to fill space.

At your door, he looks at you with hopeful eyes but doesn’t move in. He’s waiting for your choice.

So you step closer.

You kiss him.

Soft. Sure. Just once. But it’s full of everything you’ve been holding back.

When you pull away, he blinks like he’s just been hit by a wave.

You smirk “You were taking too long.”

He laughs, dizzy and full of stars.

And for the first time in a long while, so do you.

── .✦ Ace:

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Humor, Emotional Reveal, Mutual Feelings Hidden, Teasing to Serious, Marine Conflict

The sun burns above you. You’re lying on the deck of your ship, one leg over the other, a half-empty bottle between your fingers. Ace is beside you shirtless, grinning, sweat on his brow, flame flickering off his fingers like it’s breathing with him.

“You always steal my rum.” you say, kicking him lightly.

“You always keep it warm,” he shoots back “I’m doing you a favor.”

You roll your eyes “Your idea of favors sucks.”

He leans closer, his voice lazy and smug “You didn’t say that last night.”

You groan “Get a new line, fire boy.”

He grins wider. You punch his arm. He fake-winces, like it hurt. It didn’t.

That’s the two of you: teasing, biting, half-fighting, half-kissing. No promises. No labels. Just good fun and bad timing.

Pirate life is rough. You take what joy you can.

“Hey,” you say after a long silence, watching the sky “Wanna hear a secret?”

Ace smirks, eyes still closed “If it’s about that thing you did in the galley with the honey—”

“No, dumbass. A real secret.”

That makes him open his eyes. He turns to look at you “Alright. Hit me.”

You sit up. Serious now. The bottle rests on your knee.

“I have a son.”

Ace snorts “You what?”

You nod, eyes still on the horizon “Yeah. He’s five. His name’s Ren.”

He blinks. You go on before he can interrupt.

“I had him before all this, before the piracy, before you. I got caught in something messy with the Marines. To keep him safe, I left him with my parents. Changed my name. Ran.”

Ace stares.

You keep talking “I go see him when I can. Disguised. Just for a day or two. He thinks I’m some traveling doctor or something. He doesn’t know who I really am.”

You pause. Swallow.

“It’s hell, leaving every time. But I’d rather he grow up safe than have him hunted.”

Ace starts laughing.

You blink “What the hell?”

He’s full-on laughing “Holy shit, you got me! I thought you were serious. What is this, some new kink? Roleplay? Mommy pirate stuff?”

You just look at him.

Dead quiet.

No grin. No tease.

Ace’s smile dies instantly. The flame on his fingers goes out.

“…Wait,” he says “You’re not joking?”

You don’t say anything.

His expression changes fast… shocked, confused, then something close to guilt “You really…?”

You nod once “I’m not playing around.”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly tense “Shit.”

“Yeah,” you say, dry “That’s usually the first response.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again “Why are you telling me this now?”

You shrug “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the closest thing I’ve had to a real connection in years. Or maybe I just got tired of lying all the time.”

He stares at you.

You look away “I didn’t expect you to laugh. That sucked.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“No,” he says quickly “I’m serious. That was a shitty reaction. I just… I didn’t think you were the kind of person to hide something that big.”

You exhale “Turns out, I’m full of surprises.”

The silence between you is heavy now. Not like before.

Then Ace says quietly, “What’s he like?”

You blink “Huh?”

“Your kid. Ren. What’s he like?”

You smile a little “Stubborn. Smart. Messy. Loves drawing fishes. Hates carrots. Thinks I have the coolest boots in the world.”

Ace nods, quiet. He looks down, then up at you again.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs “I’m sorry for laughing. And I’m… kinda honored you told me.”

You raise a brow “Didn’t peg you for the emotional type.”

He shrugs, eyes soft “Didn’t peg you for someone with a child.”

Touché.

Ace doesn’t talk much for the next few days.

No flirting. No teasing. Just quiet looks when he thinks you’re not watching.

You try to act normal with some old jokes, same smug grin as always, but you feel it too. Everything changed with that one secret. The space between you now holds more than just fun.

It holds truth. Real, heavy, warm truth.

You’re standing at the helm when he walks up beside you.

“I want to come.” he says.

You glance at him “Come where?”

“When you go see your son.”

Your hands tighten on the wheel “Ace—”

“I’ll stay out of sight. I swear. I just… want to see him. I want to understand what you gave up. What you’re protecting.”

You study him for a moment. His eyes don’t waver. There’s no joke. No smirk.

Just Ace. Real. Honest.

You nod.

Months later — The island is quiet. A small village with stone houses, chickens in the streets, a little bakery that still smells like your childhood.

You pull your hood low. Ace wears a cap, sunglasses... he looks ridiculous, but no one’s looking at him. Just another traveler.

Your parents’ house is at the end of the road. Garden full of wildflowers. Paint peeling on the fence.

Your son is playing outside.

He doesn’t see you at first. He’s chasing butterflies. Laughing. Barefoot.

Ace stops walking.

“That’s him?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod “Ren.”

Ace just stares. His hands slowly curl into fists.

You call out softly, “Ren?”

The boy turns. His face lights up.

He runs to you screaming. You drop to your knees and catch him in your arms. He’s warm. Real. Solid.

Ace looks away.

Inside, your parents keep things short. They know who Ace is. You warned them. They’re not happy, but they trust you.

You all sit outside. Ren sits on Ace’s lap by accident. You try to grab him, but Ace just holds him steady.

“It’s okay,” he says “He’s light.”

Ren shows him a toy ship made of sticks “I made this!”

Ace chuckles “Really? That’s better than some ships I’ve sailed on.”

You stare.

Ren grins proudly “My parent used to tell me stories. About pirates and fire powers. Did you know there’s a pirate who can set his fists on fire?”

Ace raises a brow “Sounds dangerous.”

Ren gasps “But so cool!”

You laugh softly. Ace sends you a small look. It’s gentle. A little sad.

Later, when Ren naps, you and Ace sit on the back porch.

“He’s amazing.” Ace says.

“I know.”

“You’re amazing,” he adds “You left this. For his safety.”

You stare at the grass “I think about quitting all the time. Just staying here. Being at his side full time. But… the world’s not kind. And if they find me—”

“I get it,” he cuts in “You’re doing what you have to.”

You glance at him “I didn’t expect you to care so much.”

He shrugs “Neither did I.”

Then he adds, “But now I can’t stop.”

Your heart stumbles.

“He’s got your eyes.” Ace says softly.

“Don’t get attached.” you warn “This life… it’s dangerous.”

“So is mine,” he says “But that didn’t stop you from letting me in.”

You look at him. Really look.

“I didn’t plan for this...” you whisper.

“Neither did I.”

But here you both are.

And suddenly, fun doesn’t feel like the right word anymore.

The sound of quiet laughter wakes you.

You blink against the morning light, still groggy, still warm under the blanket. It takes a second to remember where you are... your parents’ house, back in your old bed.

And then you hear it again.

Ren’s voice.

And Ace’s.

You sit up, heart skipping.

You slip out of bed, still barefoot, and pad toward the living room. And there they are.

Ren sits cross-legged on the floor, his little wooden ship in one hand, while Ace sits across from him, mimicking an enemy pirate voice.

“Noooo! You got me again, Captain Ren! My ship is sinking!”

Ren giggles and throws a pillow at him “That’s what you get, bad guy!”

Ace dramatically falls back, hands in the air “Ughhh… defeated by the mightiest pirate on the seas…”

Your heart squeezes.

Ace looks so natural. Hair messy. Eyes full of warmth. Like he belongs here.

But then your parents come in.

They freeze when they see the scene.

Ace doesn’t notice at first, he’s laughing with Ren, his smile unguarded.

“Ren.” your mother says, sharply.

Your son turns.

“Come away from him,” your father says quickly, stepping forward “Now.”

Ace blinks, confused “I—”

“Ren,” your mother repeats “Come here.”

Ren looks at you, unsure.

You step in “What’s going on?”

Your father’s jaw tightens “We don’t want him near the child.”

You stare “Excuse me?”

“He’s a pirate,” your mother hisses “A famous one. Fire Fist. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s also sitting on the floor playing ships...” you snap.

Your parents say nothing.

“You trusted me enough to come here with him,” you continue, voice rising “Now you’re trying to pull Ren away like he’s some kind of monster?”

“We’re protecting our grandson.” your father says coldly.

“From what? A man who’s been nothing but kind to him?”

“You don’t know what kind of life he brings.”

“I do,” you shout “I live it too. If you forgot. And yes, it’s dangerous. Yes, it’s hard. But Ace has done nothing but respect my family, protect me, and treat Ren with more care than anyone ever has!”

They go silent.

You’re shaking now, fists clenched.

“And for your information, I love him.”

The words fall like a hammer in the room.

Ren blinks.

Your parents’ eyes widen.

Ace just stares at you.

You don’t move.

You didn’t mean to say it... not like this, not loud, not angry... but it’s out.

And real.

You look at Ace, heart thundering “I love you.”

A beat.

Then Ace stands slowly, eyes locked on yours. He walks to you, quiet. The room holds its breath.

He stops in front of you.

“I wasn’t sure if I should say it first,” he says, voice low “Didn’t want to scare you off. But you beat me to it.”

You blink.

“I love you too.” he says.

He reaches out, gentle, and takes your hand.

Your parents stay silent. Ren looks between the two of you, then claps once like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Can I have pancakes now?” he asks.

You and Ace laugh at the same time, breathless.

And just like that, the tension cracks.

── .✦ Nico Robin:

Tags: Established Relationship, Soft Confession, Emotional Intimacy, Bittersweet Past

It’s late.

Most of the crew has gone to bed, except you and Robin. You're both in the library room. She’s reading. You’re not. You're just holding the edge of a piece of paper... frayed, uneven, and pulsing with life.

A vivre card.

You don’t have to look at it to know it’s still there. Still pointing somewhere far away, where you can’t be.

Robin closes her book softly “Is that what’s been on your mind all day?”

You glance over.

Of course she noticed.

You nod “Yeah.”

She tilts her head slightly “Can I ask who it’s for?”

You hesitate.

You’ve never told her. Not because you didn’t trust her, but because it always felt like a story that belonged to a different version of you. The you from before the sea. Before the Straw Hats. Before her.

But she’s already part of everything now.

So you answer.

“My son.”

Robin says nothing but her gaze sharpens. Attentive. Careful.

“He’s with his other parent now,” you continue, voice quiet “I raised him alone before I joined the crew. He’s the one who said it was okay. Actually, we were always together, in another small crew. Then he wanted a different kind of life. One with… peace. So we contacted his other parent.”

Robin nods, slow “He sounds mature.”

“He was always like that. Smarter than me, I think.”

There’s a short silence.

You look at the vivre card “I haven’t seen him since I joined. We talk through letters, sometimes den den mushi. But I don’t know when I’ll be able to see him again.”

Robin’s eyes soften “Do the others know?”

You shake your head “No. Just you.”

She reaches out. Her fingers brush yours, just enough to touch the vivre card “Thank you for trusting me.”

You smile, small but real “I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

Robin hums “I already see you. Clearly.”

You blink.

She looks at you steady and kind “You carry something heavy. And still laugh with the crew. Still help cook. Still stand beside me in battle. That’s not weakness.”

Your chest aches in the best way.

She pauses, then adds, “If one day… you want to try and see him again, I’d go with you.”

Your voice catches “Really?”

She nods “Of course. I’d like to meet him. He sounds like someone I’d admire.”

You look down at the vivre card.

Still warm. Still burning.

Maybe not as far away as it feels.

It’s just past dinner.

You’re with Robin as she asked you to stay close. A soft excuse about helping her with some documents. You're both sitting on the floor, back against the wall, a soft lamp between you.

You have the vivre card on the table. You don't always keep it out, but tonight you felt the need to hold it.

You glance at the Den Den Mushi nearby.

You hesitate.

Then pick it up and dial a number you’ve had memorized since your hands first held his.

The snail blinks sleepily… then perks up.

“Hello?”

Your chest tightens at the voice.

You smile “Hey, kiddo.”

A pause, then, “IT’S YOU!!”

You laugh, caught off guard by the pure excitement.

“Oh my god—FINALLY! You didn’t forget me, right? You didn’t sail into a storm and disappear forever, right?”

Robin lifts an amused brow, watching you with quiet interest.

“I didn’t forget you,” you say softly “You know that.”

“Just making sure. I’ve been drawing so many sea monsters lately you would not believe. I made a kraken with three hats.”

You laugh again, voice cracking slightly “Three hats? He must be important.”

“Very.” He pauses, then adds, “...I missed you.”

You shut your eyes “I missed you too.”

Robin looks away respectfully, but stays close.

Then, from the snail: “Hey, wait—who’s near you? Are you with someone?”

You glance at Robin, who blinks, caught.

“She’s... a friend.” you say carefully.

Robin speaks, her voice soft “I hope I’m more than just a friend.”

The Den Den Mushi mimics a shocked face.

“...OH MY GOD. IS THIS YOUR GIRLFRIEND??”

You bury your face in your hand.

Robin chuckles lightly, graceful even when embarrassed “Hello. I’m Robin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

There’s a long pause.

“...You sound really cool.”

Robin smiles “Thank you. So do you.”

“Wait—how much do you know about them? Like... do you know about the time they tried to cook without instructions and set the wall on fire?”

You groan “Don’t tell her that.”

“It was a microwave! The noodles caught on fire!”

Robin’s shoulders shake with laughter.

You shoot her a glare that holds no heat “I regret this entire call.”

“No you don’t.”

And he’s right. You don’t.

Not even a little.

Later, when the call ends, you sit in silence.

Robin’s hand reaches for yours “He’s amazing.”

You nod, voice soft “Yeah. He really is.”

She squeezes your hand gently “He has your spark. And your chaos.”

You smile through the ache in your chest “He’s better than I’ll ever be.”

Robin rests her head against your shoulder.

“You’ll see him again. When the time is right. And I'll be with you... if you want me.”

"Of course I do."

And somehow, with her beside you, that feels like a promise you can believe in.

[hoonieyun]

hindsight is 20/20

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader genre: established relationship, drabble/oneshot, fluff, romance warnings: besides kissing not much, 18+ not proofread lol

synopsis: jake has a bit of misplacing his glasses

wc: 882

jake has a habit of misplacing things and you found it cute, especially when he’d have a shocked expression on his face, lips parted and eyes wide when he realizes that something was missing. the way he’d pat his pockets or walk around in circles like a puppy while he looked for whatever he had misplaced.

it was a cute habit of his. 

he often lost his keys, phone, wallet, the usual but would find it shortly after thanks to him putting his glasses on so he could see better. 

however, right now he was looking for that very thing, his glasses. 

he’s been misplacing them more and more lately, sometimes you’d have to help him look for them and after finding them in bizarre places like the shelf in your shower or in one of the plenty planters in your shared apartment, you decided you’d play a little prank on your sweet boyfriend. 

“baby..” jake says with a huff, lips settled into a pout. 

“can you please help me find my glasses again.. i swear i left them on the nightstand.” 

wrong. 

you woke up earlier than jake today and found his glasses sitting in your fridge next to the carton of milk. you thought it was weird at first, still is to be honest, but figured that he accidentally put them in there when he meant to put the half eaten sandwich sitting on the dining table instead. 

you hummed in response, “honey.. i told you that you really need to stop misplacing them. your glasses are important, you only have one pair!” you say, pretending like you didn’t know where they were when they sat right on your face. you put them on and have just been waiting for jake to notice. 

there’s a smile on your face as you try to hold back a chuckle while you watch him practically tear up your living room to find his glasses. he even went as far as going through each potted plant to make sure they weren’t in there again. 

“baby, please help meee.” he says, voice whiny as he’s coming to the conclusion that he’s probably never going to see them again and will have to order new ones to replace them. you can’t help but let out the chuckle and he whips his head towards you. staring straight at you with an exaggerated pout and when you thought you’ve gotten caught wearing his glasses, you realize that jake hasn’t noticed because you probably look very blurry to him. 

“what are you laughing at?” jake says with a cute frown, putting his hands on his hips with a scoff like he was an old man. 

he walks over to you and you just continue to giggle, waiting for him to finally realize that you were wearing his glasses the whole time. 

“what’s so funny, huh?” he asks, jumping on you gently and putting his whole weight onto your sitting figure on the couch. you welcome him with open arms as he settles into your lap even though he barely fits. 

you wrap your arms around his neck, still waiting for him to notice. 

“should i just order new glasses.. will you help me choose a design?” he says with a smile that puffs his cheeks outwards, like a loaf of bread– and once again you can’t help but laugh. you and jake were much closer in proximity now, his face just inches from yours and he doesn’t seem to notice the very pair of glasses he was looking for are sitting on your face, looking back at him. 

“sure, honey. i’ll help you choose. do you like my glasses?” you ask, trying to get him to notice. 

his eyes brighten at your words, cheeks flushing, “you know what? yeah! they kind of look like my old ones, we can match!” jake says, his brain filled with excitement at the idea of getting matching eyewear with his girlfriend. 

“honey, these are YOUR glasses!" you say, laughing at his oblivious nature. 

“what! no way..” he says, carefully plucking them off your face and putting them on his to test them out.

“woah! they are! you found them, thank you. baby!” peppering small kisses on your face before a longer one on your lips. 

“jake, i had them the whole time. i was waiting for you to notice because you’ve been losing them a lot lately. i found it in the fridge!” 

“is that why the sandwich on the table is still there? i thought i put that away..” he says, pouting as he tries to recall his steps from the night before. 

jake was just too cute that the prank itself doesn’t have the effect you expected. you fully thought jake would get even more sulky and pouty that you pranked him but he’s endlessly grateful that you found them and they weren’t completely lost. 

“can we still get matching glasses? we’d look so cute.” you nod in response as he reaches for his phone in his pocket, or so he thought, but when you notice he’s checking every pocket he has and still no phone, you realize that he’s also misplaced that. 

“you don’t know where your phone is, huh?”

jake shyly nods, a sheepish grin on his face, “maybe..” 

hoonieyun notes: a little drabble i thought of after my conversation with @s1rawb3rry about glasses LOL <333 also yes.. two jake fics back to back SUE ME I LOVE THE MAN

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @s1rawb3rry

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[devdozes]

I was wondering if you could write modern/highschool au with phainon and flame reaver being twins, i think it'll be funny especially if the reader didn't know abt it lmao

Somehow, I fell for you twice before I even knew there were two of you.

The first time you met Flame Reaver, you didn’t know it wasn’t Phainon.

It wasn’t exactly your fault. The resemblance was uncanny—same height, same cerulean blue eyes, even the same messy hair that Phainon never seemed to brush properly. If anything, the only real difference was that Flame Reaver’s eyes burned with something sharper, something darker, and the way he carried himself was less of Phainon’s relaxed, playful charm and more… intense. But how were you supposed to know that?

You had been walking out of your club meeting when you saw him leaning against the school gate, arms crossed, staring at you with an unreadable expression. You had waved without thinking, grinning. “Didn’t think you’d actually wait for me today, Phai.”

Flame Reaver blinked once before tilting his head. “Of course.”

Weird. Phainon was never this stiff. But whatever. Maybe he was in a weird mood.

What followed was a week of absolute nonsense.

Flame Reaver, who you thought was Phainon, was suddenly spending an insane amount of time with you. Phainon was always around, sure, but he wasn’t usually this clingy. He was cheerful and thoughtful, yes, but he had an understanding of personal space. This… ‘Phainon’ didn’t.

If you walked down the hall, he was there, a step behind you. If you grabbed a drink from the vending machine, he was standing beside you, already holding out the exact drink you were about to buy. When you sat at lunch, he was directly next to you, practically in your personal space, watching you with those sharp blue eyes that didn’t quite match the Phainon you knew.

“You good?” You had asked one afternoon when he showed up outside your classroom, leaning against the wall with a casualness that didn’t quite feel right. “You’re kinda different today.”

He blinked. “Am I?”

“Yeah, you’re like… moodier or something.” You squinted at him before reaching out and poking his forehead. He didn’t react beyond a single twitch of his eye. “You usually joke around more, y’know?”

“I see.”

And then he just—

Patted your head.

Like you were some sort of pet. You froze, your brain short-circuiting as heat crept up your face. Phainon had never done that before. What was this?!

He stared at you, as if gauging your reaction, before simply smiling—just a small curve of his lips, nothing as bright as Phainon’s usual grins, but something about it sent your heart into a frenzy. What was happening?!

You thought that was the peak of your strange week, but it only got worse.

One day, you were about to head home when you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found ‘Phainon’ standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you. You sighed, waving him over. “You wanna walk home with me?”

He nodded, falling into step beside you. The silence was comfortable at first, but then you noticed something odd. He wasn’t humming under his breath like usual. He wasn’t teasing you about your weird backpack keychains. And most of all, he wasn’t calling you by that dumb nickname he gave you.

You stopped in your tracks. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

He stared at you, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been acting weird all week, Phai! You’re like, super clingy—”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Your brain blanked. “Uh… nothing? It’s just… new.”

He stepped closer, his gaze pinning you in place. “Do you dislike it?”

You swallowed, heat rushing to your face. “I-I didn’t say that! It’s just—you’re usually more laid-back, y’know?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, in a lower voice, he murmured, “Maybe I just don’t want you to leave.”

Your heart stopped.

Before you could even begin to process that, another voice cut through the air.

“HEY! What the hell is going on here?!”

You turned and nearly had a stroke.

Standing at the end of the street, looking absolutely furious, was Phainon.

The real Phainon.

Your brain had about two seconds to process this before everything clicked into place.

Oh.

OH.

“You’re kidding,” you whispered in horror, whipping back to ‘Phainon’—no, Flame Reaver. His smirk said everything. He hadn’t been Phainon at all. He had just let you believe that for a whole week.

Phainon stormed over, grabbing his twin by the collar. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop messing with my friends?!”

Flame Reaver shrugged. “You left them unattended. What did you expect?”

“You—” Phainon turned to you, looking both betrayed and exhausted. “You seriously thought he was me?”

“How was I supposed to know you had an identical twin?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I actually have a personality?”

Flame Reaver smirked. “And yet, they seemed to enjoy my company just fine.”

Your face burned as you remembered every single moment you spent with him.

Phainon groaned. “I can’t believe this.” Then he turned back to his twin, glaring. “You better not have done anything weird.”

Flame Reaver simply smiled, stepping back. “Nothing they didn’t like.”

Your soul nearly left your body.

Phainon looked ready to murder him on the spot. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Flame Reaver hummed. “You can try.”

As Phainon lunged, you swore your life flashed before your eyes.

“Uhh Ok so… Phainon?” You cautiously pointed at the one standing to your left. He blinked at you, confused.

“Yeah?”

You then pointed at the one standing to your right, the one who had his arms casually looped around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. “And you’re also Phainon?”

The quiet one—who you had unknowingly been spending way too much time with—smirked slightly, his grip tightening just a fraction. “Something like that.”

The real Phainon (or at least, the one you thought was the real one) narrowed his eyes. “Wait, wait, wait—don’t tell me you’ve been hanging out with him this whole time?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Because yes, yes, you had. And you had genuinely thought it was him the entire time. How were you supposed to know your best friend had an identical twin brother who looked just like him but acted like an entirely different person?

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a twin?!” you finally blurted out, stepping away from the overly clingy version of Phainon, only for him to smoothly pull you right back like he had no intention of letting go.

Phainon groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “Because I don’t! Not really! He’s—ugh, it’s complicated!”

The other Phainon, the one you had unwittingly spent way too much time with, simply chuckled, resting his chin against your shoulder. “I like her. I think I’ll keep her.”

Your face burned. “Excuse me?!”

“Hey!” The real Phainon shoved him off you, glaring. “No, you will not!”

“I already have,” the not-Phainon replied smoothly, stepping beside you again and easily tugging you back into his space. “She likes me, after all.”

“I thought you were him!” you argued, trying to pull away but failing miserably because he was way stronger than his twin.

The real Phainon groaned in absolute frustration. “This is a disaster.”

You had to agree.

Just as you thought things couldn’t get worse, the two Phainons suddenly began bickering like two territorial cats.

“She’s my friend, you know! You can’t just steal her!”

“Steal? I didn’t steal anything. She willingly spent time with me.”

“BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE A SEPARATE PERSON!”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as their arguing escalated into shoving. Phainon—the cheerful, chaotic one—had his hands firmly on his twin’s shoulders, trying to push him away from you. Meanwhile, the other Phainon—the quiet, overly affectionate one—was firmly gripping your wrist, refusing to let go.

“I think you should let me go,” you tried, looking at the clingy one.

“I think not,” he replied smoothly, pulling you closer.

“Oh, for the love of—let go of her!” Phainon huffed, trying to yank you away, only for his twin to tighten his grip. “Why are you so damn clingy?!”

“I just like her,” the other Phainon admitted shamelessly, brushing a strand of hair from your face and smiling at you like a puppy.

“STOP FLIRTING WITH HER!”

“Why? Jealous?”

“OF COURSE, I’M JEALOUS!” Phainon blurted out, looking absolutely horrified with himself the second the words left his mouth.

You blinked.

His twin smirked. “Oh?”

Phainon turned red. “I—I mean—that’s not—”

The other Phainon simply looked victorious, tugging you even closer and resting his forehead against yours. “Guess you better make a move, then, dear brother.”

“OH, YOU SON OF A—”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you found yourself sandwiched between two versions of Phainon. On your left, the cheerful and excitable Phainon, his cerulean blue eyes sparkling with mischief. On your right, Flame Reaver—silent, intense, and somehow much clingier than his counterpart.

"Alright, so what do we do now?" you asked, shifting uncomfortably as both of them leaned in.

"Obviously, you should spend the day with me!" Phainon beamed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "We can go get some snacks, maybe head to the arcade—oh! Or the amusement park! I know you love roller coasters."

Flame Reaver, who had been quietly watching, suddenly spoke. "No." He reached out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. "You're spending time with me."

"Excuse me?" Phainon narrowed his eyes at his twin, refusing to let go of you. "I saw them first."

"That doesn't matter. They're already with me." Flame Reaver tightened his grip slightly, his calm but firm voice making your heart race for a reason you couldn't quite explain.

You sighed, knowing that there was only one way to settle this. "Fine! I'll spend time with both of you. No more fighting."

The twins shared a glance, clearly displeased but unwilling to argue further. Phainon grinned, ruffling your hair. "Alright, alright. But if I win more prizes at the arcade, you owe me ice cream."

Flame Reaver, still holding your wrist, simply nodded. "Fine. But I’m not letting go."

giggles

[bi-writes]

What if 👀 what if we see when john proposes to the missus (is it too soon 😭) 🤩 they also live in my mind 24/7 you’re 🫵🏻 gonna be drowning in my asks

the key turns in the lock, nice and smooth this time. john oiled it before he left—he wanted this when he came, some sort of reminder that his hand has been here, in this house, so branded into its integrity that even the hinges no longer creak because he's made his nest here. (18+)

when he swings open the door, he doesn't recognize the sight.

you're sitting at the kitchen table with a sour expression on your face. there's a candle lit in the center, only one since the other has melted, so much so the wax is pooled underneath it next to the roast that's long since cold on its serving platter. there's glass of wine in front of you that's nearly empty, and a bottle within reach just as light.

john sucks on teeth a little as he drops his duffel bag by the door. the sound makes you flinch, and when he drops heavily into the seat across from you, he doesn't even react at the velvet box that sits on the table.

instead, he picks up his fork and starts to serve himself.

your eyes flick up to look at him, but he's too busy piling up meat and potatoes onto his plate. he takes off his hat and tosses it onto the table, and you scowl at the sight—you complain over and over again about that filthy fucking hat, and he has the nerve to set it down on the table like he's the one that's been working all day on a roast, molten chocolate lava cake, and tender mashed potatoes.

"you're late," you say. your voice croaks, hitching with your swallowed-down emotion. john takes his gloves off, tossing them beside the hat, and when he starts to undo the latches on his tact vest, you pick up your steak knife and pierce it right through the oak table. "don't you dare put that shit on my table."

"our table."

"oh, now you wanna chime in?"

john runs a few hands over his face. he looks tired. his beard is scruffy, more than usual, and the darkness under his eyes is heavy. his eyes aren't as bright as they normally are around you, and you find the tension in his shoulders to be especially wound. you don't care what he's gone through to get back to this table. maybe he fell out of a helicopter. maybe a bullet whizzed past his head and nearly splattered his brains. you don't fucking care—john price is sitting in front of you and eating the food you made and pretending like everything is just fine.

he laughs. it's humorless, but it angers you anyway. he's condescending; it's in his nature. when you question the way of things, when you try to put your foot down—you would punch him, but he'd ease out of the way, effortless, and it would annoy you greatly. then he'd probably take your wrists and pin them behind your back with one hand, and he'd smile doing it, because he's so much bigger than you, so much stronger. he kills people for less, it takes no effort to stifle the woman that shares his bed. everything is funny to him—everything is cute.

asshole.

"where'd you find tha'?" john asks. he doesn't look at it, but you know what he's talking about. you pick up the velvet box and pop it open. the ring blinds you. it must be at least three carats, a gorgeous thing, surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds around the band. it glitters, stunning, and if you were a stupider woman, you would've been wearing it already, but you're not.

"i found it when i was going through your shit," you spit at him. you tip your glass back and swallow down the rest of your wine. it goes down hot. "packing it for you."

"we goin' on a trip?"

"you certainly are."

john clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. he finally brings his eyes up to meet yours, and he brings a hand up to scratch at his beard.

"not leaving."

you laugh, too, smiling, bitter.

"i wasn't asking, john. but if you don't want your stuff, whatever. i'm sure it'll burn just fine."

john shoves his plate away from him, scooting his chair back. you expect him to get up, to come towards you. you expect him to grip you by the throat and bend you over the table so he can fuck you next to the extravagant meal you've made, but instead he huffs as you hear his belt buckle clink.

"what the fuck are you doing?" you scoff. john hums, grunting low, and then you watch with parted lips as he spits into the palm of his hand and lowers it. it's only a moment before he sighs deeply, a wet slick, slick, slick following the movement of his arm. "are you fucking serious?"

"mmm..." john clenches his jaw. "'s been awhile, love." he cracks his neck as he moves it from side to side, fixing his eyes on you as he moves his arm a little quicker. your lips tremble angrily, but you can't help the way you shift in your seat. your free hand plays with the hem of your skirt, and he rolls his shoulders back, licking his lips. "show me."

"fuck you."

"in a minute, love. show me."

you're shaking with anger. it's hot in your chest, making you buzz, but it doesn't stop your hands. it doesn't stop them from feeling over the collar of your blouse before you carefully undo the top buttons. john relaxes as he watches the fabric fall loose, and he hums knowingly when you drop the blouse and unclasp your bra.

your tits fall with a bounce. you're ashamed at how easy it is, to fall right back into the place you swore you would never go again. john groans, moving his chair back further, and you squeeze your thighs together as you watch his thick hand tug at his rigid cock with more and more of a chaotic rhythm.

"come 'ere."

"no."

"come here," john mutters. he says it in that way—that way you know that he won't ask again. he won't have to.

you stand on doe legs. they wobble, and you use the table as leverage, and when you make it in front of him, john pushes you until you're sitting on the edge of the table, right next to his half-eaten plate and his dirty gear. you flinch as he stands, stepping between your thighs, and you kiss as the tip of him presses against your drooling cunt. your legs rise, knees hooking around his hips, and john licks over his teeth as he keeps stroking himself.

"we've been over this," john growls. "haven't we, sweetheart?"

"i hate you."

"this is mine," john says into your ear. "your cunt. this house. this food—it's mine, and you know tha'. you love puttin' up a bloody brawl, i know tha', love, so i take it, but you won't be rid of me until i'm dead, y'hear tha'?"

"fuck you—"

"ugh—" john hisses. "gonna make me fuckin' come, love—"

john laughs through breathy moans when he feels you're wearing no knickers. sopping, pretty pussy just waiting for him—in his house, with his girl, the one that's about to have his name.

"john—"

his grip on your thighs is bruising as he pushes into you. just the tip, just enough to drive you insane, just in time for him to spill inside of you and fill you with a dizzying amount of cum. hot, sticky, messy—john's never been very good at cleaning up his messes. he seems to like it that way. he seems to like it ruined and overstimulated and begging.

he presses his forehead to yours, grunting as he pushes further inside of you. you'll ruin the wood underneath you being so wet, but john will fix it.

"when are y'gonna learn?" john murmurs. "hmm?"

"john..."

there is no john without you. you could run, but he'd find you. you could change the locks, but it wouldn't stop him from coming home. you could throw all of his things out, burn them, shred them, bury them, but he has no real ties to anything as trivial as things. john is a fixture in the air here. he lives in the wood that makes up the house. he's in your breaths that taste like cigar smoke. he's inside of you, hot, in the bruises that line your collarbone and your thighs and your hips. john is a rigid, immutable hook that is dug so far into your fleshy insides that it would be suicide to remove him from yourself.

he's a weed you cannot rid yourself of. you pick him out by the root, but he always comes back.

he kisses you like that—tits out, cunt drooling, engagement ring tossed aside just out of reach. you think he meant for you to find it. either as a result of your morbid curiosity or your temper tantrums—john probably figured whichever came first would be good enough.

he would never propose to you. you know this.

why the fuck would he ask you about something that's already a given?

in the morning, you're alone with your thoughts, watching the ring sparkle in the early sunlight. your hand is rested on his chest, moving with the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. you turn your hand over and stare at the thing—you aren't someone who's into material things so much. you appreciate them, but something about this new reality of yours makes you stare a little harder at the diamond, question the clarity just a little. you hope it made a huge dent in that wallet of his; you hope he gritted his teeth a little when he handed over his card.

you'll make his bank account weep. you're mrs. john fucking price.

[vortexbloom]

Can I request some dialogue heavy scenarios where the HSR men, Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Boothill, Sunday, Jiaoqiu, and Moze are in a relationship with a Neko reader and how they react when the reader jumps up like an actual scared cat when they're spooked.

Sure :)

I decided to make a Aventurine one too btw.

How they‘d react, if they‘d see their Neko Lover jump up like an actual cat when they’re spooked (Seperate OneShots)

Pairing: Jing Yuan / Blade / Dan Heng / Boothill / Sunday / Jiaoqiu / Moze / Aventurine x Neko Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Some parts may be similar

─୨ৎ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────୨ৎ─

Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

─୨ৎ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────୨ৎ─

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

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

⋆˚࿔ 𝒥𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The warm glow of lanterns bathed Jing Yuan’s study in a soft light, casting elongated shadows across the neatly arranged scrolls. It was a quiet evening, the kind he treasured, especially when you were here, curled up beside him, tail lazily flicking as you read through one of his many books.

Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, golden eyes half lidded with drowsy contentment. He had been watching you for some time now, admiring the way your ears twitched slightly when you were deep in thought. It was a small, endearing habit, one of the many he had come to cherish.

The peace, however, did not last.

A sudden crash echoed through the room as the wind managed to drop a tray, the clattering sound cutting through the silence like a blade.

Your reaction was instant.

Ears flattening, tail bristling, you let out a startled yelp before leaping straight into the air, your body moving with feline agility as you landed on the desk with a soft thud, wide eyed and claws lightly extended. A scroll rolled off the surface, and Jing Yuan barely had the presence of mind to catch his teacup before it tipped over.

Silence.

Then, a deep chuckle.

Jing Yuan pressed a hand to his lips, his broad shoulders shaking as he struggled to contain his amusement. His golden eyes gleamed with mirth as he regarded you, still perched atop the desk.

"My dear," he drawled, voice laced with humor. "I never realized you had such…remarkable reflexes."

You shot him a glare, ears twitching in embarrassment. "That wasn’t funny," you huffed, crossing your arms.

That only made his smirk grow.

"On the contrary, I found it quite delightful." He reached out, fingers brushing over your ears with a gentle touch, smoothing them down as if to soothe your ruffled pride. His gaze softened, though the amusement never quite left his expression. "Though I do apologize if I annoyed too much."

You huffed again but didn’t pull away when his hand slid down to scratch at the base of your ears. The tension in your shoulders slowly melted, replaced by a quiet purr that you refused to acknowledge.

Jing Yuan’s grin widened. "Ah, so I am forgiven?"

You flicked your tail in response, before muttering, "Only if you don’t tease me about this forever."

The General chuckled, leaning forward until his forehead nearly touched yours. "I make no promises."

You just rolled your eyes.

With a swift motion, he tugged you forward, pulling you effortlessly into his lap. A surprised squeak left your lips as he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin atop your head with a satisfied sigh.

"Now, stay here and let me enjoy this warmth a little longer."

You grumbled, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear was a difficult comfort to resist. So, despite your embarrassment, you let yourself relax in his embrace, tail curling around his wrist as his fingers continued their lazy strokes through your hair.

Jing Yuan merely smiled, content.

This, he decided, was far better than any paperwork.

════════════════════════════

⋆˚࿔ ℬ𝓁𝒶𝒹ℯ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The silence in the room was comfortable, broken only by the occasional rustling of fabric as Blade shifted in his seat. He wasn’t one for idle chatter, and you had long since grown used to his quiet nature. It didn’t bother you. If anything, you found a strange sense of peace in his presence, knowing that despite his distant demeanor, he always kept an eye on you.

Curled up on the couch, your tail lazily flicked behind you as you read, the dim glow of the lamp casting soft shadows along the walls. Blade sat nearby, sharpening his sword with slow, methodical movements, his eyes flickering to you every so often.

And then—

BANG!

The sound of something heavy falling outside the room shattered the tranquility. Instinct took over before your mind could catch up, your ears flattened, your tail bristled, and in one swift motion, you leapt straight into the air.

Blade barely had time to react before you landed with perfect feline agility, on top of the bookshelf.

Silence.

He blinked.

Then, without a word, he set his weapon aside and leaned back against his seat, tilting his head slightly as a quiet huff of amusement left his lips.

"…Hmm."

That was it. No teasing remark, no laughter, just that small, almost imperceptible sound of amusement. But you knew him well enough to recognize it.

Your ears twitched. "Don’t say it."

He exhaled through his nose, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Say what?"

You narrowed your eyes. His were unreadable, as always, but there was something behind them? a flicker of entertainment that he was clearly holding back.

Slowly, deliberately, Blade stood up. You tensed, watching as he moved to stand directly in front of the bookshelf, his gaze sharp, calculating. Then, in one fluid motion, he reached up, his strong hands effortlessly wrapping around your waist.

Before you could protest, he lifted you off the shelf with ease.

"You land well," he mused, setting you down in front of him. His hands didn’t immediately let go, lingering at your waist as his thumb brushed against your side. "Jump high, too."

Your tail flicked, your ears still slightly flattened. "Blade."

His lips twitched, just barely. Then, as if the moment had already passed, he released you, stepping back as he picked up his sword once more.

"Next time, land somewhere I can reach you faster."

You stared at him. "Was that…concern?"

He didn’t answer, but the way his fingers tightened briefly around the hilt of his sword told you everything you needed to know.

And despite your lingering embarrassment, you couldn’t help but smile.

════════════════════════════

⋆˚࿔ 𝒟𝒶𝓃 ℋℯ𝓃ℊ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The Astral Express was unusually quiet that evening. Most of the crew had retired to their rooms, leaving only the soft hum of the train’s engine and the occasional flicker of passing stars through the windows. You sat comfortably on the couch in the archive room, tail lazily flicking as you drank some tea. Across from you, Dan Heng sat with his own reading material, his gaze focused, his expression as unreadable as ever.

This was routine. A quiet evening together, surrounded by books and tea, with the gentle presence of each other’s company. You liked it this way.

Until—

CLANK.

The sudden noise from the hallway shattered the silence. Something heavy had fallen, perhaps March had dropped her camera again, or Caelus had knocked over something. Either way, the sound was unexpected.

Your body reacted before your mind did. Instinctively, your ears flattened, your tail bristled, and with an alarmed yelp, you leapt straight up into the air.

Straight onto the shelf.

Silence.

Dan Heng’s book remained open in his hands, but his eyes had drifted upward, following your movement. You clung to the top of the shelf, wide eyed, tail still puffed up in fright. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, with a barely perceptible sigh, Dan Heng closed his book.

"I see your reflexes are…impressive."

Your ears twitched, heat creeping up your face. "Don’t say anything."

He tilted his head slightly, expression calm but unreadable. "I didn’t."

You scowled, shifting slightly but realizing with mild horror that getting down was trickier than expected. The shelf was taller than you thought, and your balance was precarious. You hesitated.

Dan Heng noticed.

Without a word, he stood up and walked over, stopping just below you. He extended his arms, gaze steady. "Come down."

You blinked. "I can do it myself."

A pause. Then, his tone softened, just barely. "You’ll land better if I catch you."

You hesitated again, but there was no teasing in his voice, no amusement at your predicament, just quiet patience. Huffing softly, you relented, letting yourself lean forward until gravity took over.

Dan Heng caught you effortlessly, his grip firm yet careful as he steadied you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his warmth familiar. For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, he finally spoke again.

"Next time, stay close to me. That way, you won’t have to jump at all."

Your ears twitched, tail flicking against his arm. You mumbled something about not being that easily startled, but the way Dan Heng’s arms lingered just a second longer than necessary told you he wasn’t entirely convinced.

════════════════════════════

⋆˚࿔ ℬℴℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The dusty air of Penacony’s lower districts buzzed with distant chatter, neon signs flickering in the twilight. Boothill leaned back in his chair, boots propped up on the table, hat pulled low over his face. A slow evening, just how he liked it.

You, on the other hand, were perched on the armrest beside him, tail lazily flicking as you toyed with the rim of his hat. "You always this relaxed, cowboy?" you teased, ears twitching as you watched him.

Boothill let out a slow chuckle, tilting his head just enough to glance at you. "Ain’t no rush, sugar. If trouble comes, I’ll handle it before you even blink."

As if the universe itself wanted to test that claim, a loud crash echoed from the alleyway behind you. Something, someone, had knocked over a stack of crates. The sudden noise sent your instincts into overdrive.

Ears flattening, tail puffing up, you let out a startled yelp before leaping straight up and landing perfectly on one of the wooden beams above. Claws lightly digging into the wood, you clung there, wide eyed, heart pounding.

Silence.

Boothill stayed completely still for a beat. Then, slowly, he lowered his boots from the table, his hand coming up to tip his hat back as he looked up at you. His eyes gleamed under the neon glow, amusement curling at the edges of his smirk.

"Well, ain’t that somethin’."

You groaned. "Don’t."

He chuckled, rolling his shoulders before standing. "Darlin’, you got reflexes quicker than a gunslinger in a standoff. You ever think ‘bout joinin’ me for a duel?"

You shot him a glare, tail flicking irritably. "I don’t see you reacting that fast."

Boothill smirked, tapping his holster. "That’s ‘cause I don’t need to jump, sweetheart. My gun does the talkin’."

You huffed, carefully shifting your weight to prepare for a jump down. But before you could move, Boothill was already underneath you, arms casually open. "Go on. I gotcha."

Your ears twitched. "I can land fine on my own, you know."

He smirked, tilting his head. "I know. But humor me."

You hesitated for only a second before letting go, landing effortlessly in his arms. His grip was steady, warm, secure. You half expected him to tease you, but instead, he just chuckled, adjusting his hold for a brief moment before setting you gently on your feet.

"Next time, sugar, maybe try jumpin’ towards me instead of away."

Your tail flicked against his leg in response, but the way he grinned told you he definitely wasn’t gonna let this go anytime soon.

════════════════════════════

⋆˚࿔ 𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The dazzling lights of Penacony’s Dreamscape cast a golden glow over the lounge, where Sunday lounged effortlessly on a velvet couch, a half empty glass of wine twirling between his fingers. He looked as he always did, relaxed, poised, utterly unreadable.

You, on the other hand, were seated beside him, tail flicking lazily as you nibbled on a delicate pastry. The night was peaceful, the music soft, the company…pleasant.

And then—

BANG!

A bottle behind the bar toppled over, crashing to the ground with a sharp clatter.

Your instincts kicked in before logic could catch up. Ears flattened, tail bristling, you let out a startled yelp and leapt straight up.

Not just a small jump, no, you soared, landing gracefully on the chandelier hanging above the lounge.

Silence.

Sunday, who had not even flinched at the noise, slowly lowered his wine glass, looking up at you with an expression that could only be described as…delightfully intrigued.

"Well, well," he mused, tilting his head as a slow smile curved his lips. "Now that’s what I call a grand performance."

Your tail flicked, embarrassment heating your face as you clung to the chandelier, claws digging slightly into the golden frame. "I—That was—"

He chuckled, setting his drink aside before standing, adjusting his pristine cuffs. "Darling, if you wanted all eyes on you, you only had to ask."

You groaned, ears flattening further. "Don’t start."

Sunday merely extended a hand, the neon reflections in his golden eyes glimmering with amusement. "Come down, love. Or should I call in a ladder?"

You huffed, preparing to leap down, only for Sunday to effortlessly step forward and catch you midair before you even landed. His grip was steady, his arms strong as he pulled you close, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips.

"Impeccable form," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

Your tail flicked against his chest in protest, and he laughed, a smooth, velvety sound.

"Though, next time, my dear…jump into my arms first, won’t you?"

════════════════════════════

⋆˚࿔ 𝒥𝒾𝒶ℴ𝓆𝒾𝓊 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Jiaoqiu sat at his desk, his fingers tracing the lines of his latest research notes. He glanced up from his work, eyes narrowing slightly as his gaze fixed on his beloved, curled up like a content kitten on the sofa, a small book resting ion your lap. The gentle, rhythmic sound of your breathing was oddly soothing, and for a moment, Jiaoqiu allowed himself to indulge in the comfort of your presence.

Then, something happened. A sudden, sharp noise cut through the silence.

The next thing Jiaoqiu knew, you, who had been peacefully dozing, launchedyourself into the air with a startled yelp, an elegant but startled leap that mirrored the precise movements of a frightened cat. Your eyes were wide, the ears on top of your head twitching in every direction, and your tail, Jiaoqiu’s favorite part of you, was puffed up in surprise.

The scene happened so quickly, he couldn’t help but blink in disbelief.

"Jiaoqiu!" Your voice cracked with sudden alarm as you hovered midair, eyes flicking around the room, as if searching for the source of danger.

But Jiaoqiu was no stranger to your cat-like reflexes. Still, it never ceased to amuse him.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, low and warm, as he leaned back in his chair. His expression softened, though there was a glint of affection in his eyes.´´

"Did you got startled, love?" he teased, his voice calm and controlled, as always.

You landed softly back onto the ground, your face flushed with embarrassment. You quickly tried to compose yourself, but your tail betrayed you, flicking erratically behind you as your eyes darted around to make sure the threat (whatever it was) had passed.

"I…I wasn’t expecting that noise," you stammered, still trying to regain your bearings.

Jiaoqiu stood up from his desk, taking slow, measured steps toward you. His hand gently reached out, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. He couldn't resist teasing you a little further, but there was a tender warmth in his voice.

"You’re so cute when you’re startled,´´ he said, his lips curling into a soft smile. ´´You remind me of a cat, always so quick to react."

His words made your cheeks burn brighter, making you pull your knees up to your chest, feeling embarassed. You were so used to your feline-like tendencies, the ears, the tail, the reflexes, but hearing Jiaoqiu call you cute´ always ´turned you into a blushing mess.

"I didn’t jump that high!" you protested weakly, though the sheepish smile on your face said otherwise.

Jiaoqiu chuckled, sitting next to you on the couch. "You did. And I think it’s adorable," he said, his voice softening. "I never thought I’d be so lucky to have someone so…unique, so full of life."

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. Despite the teasing, there was a sincerity in his words. Jiaoqiu wasn’t one to offer praise lightly, and when he did, it meant something.

"Really?" you asked quietly, your tail swishing a little more contentedly now.

Jiaoqiu nodded, his gaze soft and unwavering. "Absolutely."

He took your hand gently, pulling you closer to him, and placed a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing his fingers over the tips of your ears. "Now, I think it’s time for you to relax, my little neko. I’ll make sure nothing scares you for the rest of the evening."

You felt your heart melt as you curled closer to him, feeling safe in his embrace. Youwere still a little embarrassed about your jump, after all, you had hoped to appear graceful, even with the feline traits youcouldn’t help but flaunt. But Jiaoqiu never made you feel self conscious.

In fact, he loved you all the more for it.

And so, in the calm after the the startle, the two of you settled together.

As Jiaoqiu continued to hold you, his beloved, close, you realized that sometimes, being startled and falling into the arms of someone who cared, made everything in the world seem perfectly aligned.

"Jiaoqiu" you whispered, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder. "Thank you for always being here."

He smiled, brushing a gentle hand through your hair, his heart swelling with love.

"Always."

════════════════════════════

⋆˚࿔ ℳℴ𝓏ℯ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Moze had seen a lot of things in his time. But watching his lover, his sweet, supposedly normal lover, leap straight into the air like a startled cat? Yeah, that was new.

The night had been quiet. You walked beside Moze, tail swaying lazily, ears twitching at the distant sounds of the city. Moze, ever the picture of relaxed confidence, strolled with his hands in his pockets, cigarette hanging from his lips.

Then—

BANG!

A trash can tipped over in a nearby alley.

Before Moze could so much as glance over, you sprang into the air, landing effortlessly on the ledge of a street sign.

Silence.

Moze stood there, cigarette paused between his fingers, head tilting up to look at you. His eyes gleamed with slow, dawning amusement.

"Huh." He exhaled smoke, taking his time before smirking. "Didn’t take you for the ‘climb first, think later’ type."

Your tail flicked in embarrassment. "It was instinct!"

"Instinct, huh?" His smirk widened. "So, what’s the plan now, kitten? You settin’ up shop up there, or you need a rescue?"

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I don’t need rescuing."

"That so?" He took a step closer, tapping ash from his cigarette. "Then jump down."

You hesitated. The leap up had been easy. The jump down, especially with Moze watching so intently, felt…humiliating.

His grin turned lazy as he opened his arms. "C’mon. You know I gotcha."

With a sigh, you finally leapt and true to his word, Moze caught you effortlessly, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you against him.

"Told ya," he murmured, voice warm against your ear.

You buried your face in his shoulder. "You’re never gonna let this go, are you?"

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Nope. Might even start keepin’ a tally."

You groaned, but his laughter, low, teasing, and utterly fond, made it a little harder to stay mad.

════════════════════════════

⋆˚࿔ 𝒜𝓋ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃ℯ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Aventurine had seen many things in his line of work, bluffs, desperate gambles, high risk plays that paid off or crashed spectacularly. But nothing, nothing, could have prepared him for the sight of you his oh so charming lover, springing into the air like an actual startled cat.

The two of you had been walking through the Reverie, his usual smug confidence on full display as he lazily shuffled a deck of cards in one hand. You, tail swaying, ears twitching at every sound, strolled beside him, casually entertained by his smooth talk about probabilities and luck.

Then, the universe decided to throw in an unexpected variable.

A sudden clatter, a serving tray crashing to the floor behind you.

In an instant, your body reacted before your mind could catch up, ears flattened, tail puffed, and you launched yourself straight up, landing gracefully atop a decorative light fixture.

Silence.

Aventurine blinked. Slowly. Then, with the ease of a man who had just been blessed with the most amusing hand of cards ever dealt, he let out a low, delighted chuckle.

"Well, well. I must say, I didn’t account for this particular…reflex of yours."

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "Don’t start."

"Oh, but I must." He smirked up at you, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You know, darling, if you wanted a change in perspective, you could’ve just asked. Climbing the decor seems a bit dramatic, even for you."

"I didn’t mean to!" you huffed, tail flicking in irritation. "It was instinct!"

"Instinct, you say?" He tapped a finger against his chin, as if considering his next move in a game. "Fascinating. You do this often? Perhaps I should start placing bets on how high you’ll go next time?"

You shot him a glare. He only laughed, ever the picture of infuriating amusement.

Finally, he stretched out a hand, voice laced with an exaggerated sigh. "Come now, kitten. As much as I enjoy this newfound discovery, I’d rather not have my partner perched above me like some elusive jackpot prize."

You hesitated, only because you knew the second you were back on the ground, he’d never let you live this down. Still, with no other choice, you leapt down.

Aventurine caught you with infuriating ease, his arms securing you in place before he leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. "See? Always a safe bet with me."

You groaned, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. "You’re never letting this go, are you?"

His smirk widened. "Oh, sweetheart. Not in a million cycles."

© 2024-2025 vortexbloom all rights reserved. Don’t repost, edit, translate or plagiarize my work!

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

[vrystalius]

NSFW Alphabet — Kyojuro Rengoku

A NSFW alphabet all about the flame hashira.

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x afab!reader

Thank you so so much @erexart for making this cover art! My first reaction upon seeing this was literally “oh my.” since I opened in the middle of my class XD This is so gorgeous!! Please please go check her out and leave some support, she’s an awesome person!

A = Aftercare (what is he like after sex?)

Kyojuro can’t suppress it. He’s very smile-y and cuddly after a passionate night. His large arms would snake around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His thick fingers would slowly brush over your skin, accidentally tickling you in the process sometimes. His hands are still rough and calloused, even after retirement, but you never minded. In fact, it makes you pleasantly shiver. His face would be glistering in sweat with a couple hairs sticking to his forehead. His eyes would be a little droopy and a lovesick smile would be spread all over his face. His voice would be a little horse and much quieter while whispering praises and love-declarations into your ear, his fingers running through your hair.

Your husband loves taking care of you, so expect to be pampered in all ways that are possible. To him, aftercare is just as important as the sex itself, so Kyojuro’ll gladly wash your body with either warm, damp towels or prepare a soothing bath for you if that’s what you prefer. If you manage to get out of bed right after him making you see the stars and universe, you can spot him in the kitchen by the stove, cooking a simple meal for the both of you to enjoy in bed. If you’re lucky, you get to enjoy the view of your husband’s muscular back, decorated in scratches you left behind in an attempt to hold onto something, anything, while trying to handle his size. Kyojuro doesn’t mind them, quite the opposite. His confidence gets boosted when spotting them in the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful, love. The brightest light in my life, so beautiful… you need anything, my flame? I can get you whatever you wish.”

B = Body part (his favourite body part of his and yours)

Kyojuro favours his chest the most. It used to be incredibly muscular, being able to flex the one, then the other in a funny or teasing matter. He especially found your interactions funny, how you poked his soft pecs and tensing them right after you touched them. It makes you giggle a little, so he’d gladly present his naked chest on purpose, so that you can squeeze and poke them as you like. Now, after retirement, he can’t control his muscles as much as he used to, meaning they got even softer. You love to give them a cheeky squeeze or a poke randomly throughout the day. It tickle a little when you do that, so Kyojuro’ll let you do as you please! Even if you give them a squeeze during sex. It surprised him when you do so, but your husband’ll just continue on with movement when you do.

His favourite body part of yours are your eyes and how they sparkle when Kyojuro brings you your favourite dish, or how they glister when you cry. Or, his favourite expression of yours, when they roll back into your skull. You look so drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, you can’t even control your own face anymore- he finds you so cute looking like that.

“Hm? You wanna squeeze my breast? Sure, go ahead! If you like, you can lay your head on them, I think they’re soft enough to be used as pillows! Would you like to try?”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Kyojuro’s incredibly flustered after cumming onto your body, anywhere really. Especially if you swallow it all, that’s when he’s beginning to ascend. He let out one satisfied, deep groan before finishing and staining your beautiful body. His abs and abdomen would be all twitchy, trying to control the overwhelming pleasure of his organism by redirecting the feeling onto other areas of his body.

He’s hesitant to ask, but your husband wants you to squirt onto his face. Kyojuro is curious on what it’d taste like to be honest. He’s eaten you out before and does it almost everytime you two sleep with each other, but you never squirted on his face before. He isn’t actively trying to make you do it, but he really, really wants you to do it. He’s too shy to ask though.

“Y-You make me burn s-so brightly- Ah!-“

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)

Something that surprised even himself was how Kyojuro began fantasising about taking you in more public spaces. Not exactly somewhere where people can really see you, but he’s imagining dragging you aside into a secluded area like a forest or just a room inside the residence where the risk of being caught is a little higher. It makes him nervous to think about, taking you while also needing to look out for any other people that may come too close. He would pump his cock into his fist faster and faster while thinking about it…

E = Experience (How experienced is he?)

Kyojuro was raised well and saved himself for you, his future wife. After making sure you’d agree to marry him and that you are willing and happily ready to sleep with him, he’ll try to do some research beforehand. Your then-boyfriend snuck around his father’s house, but to no one’s surprise, found nothing on anything remotely related to sex or similar. After finding nothing, he moved onto the archives of the demon slayer corps. Of course, there was nothing there either, only scrolls and books on ancient breathing techniques, tactics on how to fight demons and all that stuff. He was hopeless and decided to give up, going in unexperienced and with the hopes to perform well enough to satisfy you.

“My flame, do you think Shinobu keeps some kind of records or books on reproduction?… Why I’m asking? No reason. I-I’m just interested in the biology of it!”

P = Position (his favourite positions)

1. Mating press

That way, he can push himself especially deep inside of you while having your legs rest on his shoulders. Kyojuro especially loved leaning down to you, watching your face heat up and how your eyes roll back. By staying so close, he can closely watch how close you are, how pretty you look like this and how intimate it feels being so close to you.

2. 69

Oh he loves the feeling of making you squirm and shudder above him while you’re struggling to take him with all the stimulation he’s giving you. Kyojuro gets easily lost in your essence, often switching form the 69-position to you just sitting on his face while his own cock is twitching and aching for stimulation, but the way he’s eating you out, you can’t concentrate on anything else but not grinding onto his face for even more stimulation.

G = Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment? Or humorous? etc.)

You know Kyojuro as a rather energised, outgoing and loud individual, but while having your legs rest on his shoulders while his hips thrust deeper and deeper, he hets much more passionate. He’s trying not to be funny, but sometimes he accidentally makes you giggle by not being able to control his hair. If he makes the mistake of not tying it together beforehand, his bright flame like hair will be falling into his face or just fly around everywhere, maybe even tickle your nose by leaning downwards during an particularly pleasurable movement.

“A-Agh, my hair- Apologies my love, can I borrow your hair-tie just for during… this?”

H = Hair (How well-groomed is he?)

Kyojuro doesn’t really like being completely shaven. He prefers keeping it more natural and let his hair grow out a little, but not too much. He trims it regularly and of course washes himself. It’s extremely important to him to stay clean snd healthy, for both you and himself. Colour wise, his pubic hair matches his eyebrows, being very dark, almost black.

Regarding you, Kyojuro does not care if you shave or not, it all tasted the same and makes you sing those pretty moans for him. The most important thing is that you stay clean for him, that’s all.

I = Intimacy (How is he during the moment? Romantically.)

It almost surprises you how attentive and intimate your husband can get, even after years of marriage. For him, sex isn’t only about pleasure, but about lovemaking and being attentive to all your needs, physically and mentally. Kyojuro takes his time beforehand to kiss and maybe even flirt with you, as if courting you for the first time ever.

During sex, he would stare at your face during the whole time, covering your skin in kisses and caresses, his hands exploring every inch of your gorgeous body. His moans would consist mostly of whimpering broken praises while his brows furrow together and sweat runs down his skin.

“I love you, I love you, gods!! H-Hah, I love you…”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Kyojuro doesn’t masturbate very often, but he does get aroused more often than he’d like to admit. Sometimes, he has to relief that pent up over the weeks. What turns him on the most is your scent. Any clothes of yours or just rolling over in bed onto your side switches something inside his brain. So, he mostly masturbates with the help of something you wore before and gave to him (with your consent of course). It doesn’t matter if it’s panties, shorts or a shirt, having your intoxicating smell near him makes him shudder and cum almost immediately.

One time, you gave him one of your panties for an extremely long mission. You alone just handing it to him so casually almost made him cream his pants.

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks)

1. Praising kink

It goes both ways, but hearing you praise him makes him cum almost immediately mid thrust. Kyojuro’s eyes would go wide and he’d lean down to you, peppering your face in kisses while burying himself deeper within you with a loud moan while thanking you quietly, his large hands squeezing your waist and pulling you closer to himself.

Your husband lives, laughs and loves praising you all day every day, that also means during sex. Seeing you blush just a little boosts his confidence greatly.

2. Exhibition

Kyojuro shudders everytime he thinks about the idea of being caught. Perhaps somebody hears your loud moans or his grunts and comes to investigate, catching you in the act. His heart races a little when thinking about asking you to help him out in the alleyway, looking out left and right to check for anyone coming. He doesn’t want to have a thing for being risky or doing it in semi-public spaces, but your husband just can’t help to fantasise about trying to make you scream louder and louder, risking being caught by a poor and probably afterwards traumatised kakushi.

3. Light Bondage

Kyojuro wants to know that you can fully trust him, and sometimes you can demonstrate it by be willing to be a little restrained. Just some loose ropes around your wrists to keep you from squirming too much. While you can’t escape, your husband, he’ll use the opportunity to its fullest to tease and play around with you by just barely using his fingers on you, instead of eating you out just giving you light kitten-licks or just caressing your body in admiration.

“Louder, m-my flame, please- Gods, I-I wanna hear you.”

L = Location (favourite places to take you)

He’d prefer to take you in your shared bed where it’s the most comfortable, but sometimes, Kyojuro would like to make love to you in the hotsprings. The steamy warmth surrounding you two, your naked body pressing right up against his, it may stir a couple of things within him like the overwhelming desire to mount you right now. The scents, the water, just the moment in general makes the perfect place to make love, don’t you think? Beneath these beautiful stars and admits the rocks and woods surrounding the hot springs…

M = Motivation (What turns him on, gets him going?)

1. Your confidence

Kyojuro is drawn to your enthusiasm and confidence like a moth to a flame- whatever you’re proud of, he’ll be 100% prouder, even if it’s just you managing to flip a pancake by tossing it in the air. Impressive non the less! But seeing you be confident in your own abilities and not needing him for a task makes him feel needed by you. If you don’t need his strength opening that jar of jam, how about Kyojuro satisfies you in other ways?

2. Being close after a long day

Your husband is often cuddly during the evenings of a long day. He still refuses to stop training even after retirement, so he’s still exhausted after a long day. Kyojuro loves to pull you closer and shower you in affections by peppering kisses all over your neck. He smiled against your skin when you squirm under him when he rolls on top of you, pinning you against the bed, his palms cupping your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Darling, can you… uh.. can we cuddle while I put.. myself.. into you? You’re just so warm and I promise you I’ll make you feel good, my flame…”

N = No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’d never degrade or humiliate you, even if you may be into it. Kyojuro fears he might hurt your feelings or make you feel worse about yourself, wich is exact opposite of what he’s trying to do during sex. He’s trying to make love to you, not… degrade you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

Receiving

Kyojuro can barely look at you while you’re sucking him off. His wide eyes would be staring at a random point on the ceiling, his mouth agape and a little drool running down his chin. His hands would be tightly gripping both sides of your head, trying to get even more pleasure from your warm mouth. If you ever dare to tease his tip with your tongue, prepare your face to be covered in his essence in a matter of seconds. He’s extremely sensitive and cums embarrassingly quickly when you pleasure him orally. If you go on your knees while he’s leaning against a wall, Kyojuro would be concentrating on not breaking down with the amount of shaking his thighs are doing.

Giving

He’d rather give than receive any day, you being his absolute favourite dish besides sweet potato and miso soup. Kyojuro’ll drop onto his knees whenever you need him to, willing to take you anywhere at any time. His hands would be tightly wrapping around your legs, pushing them onto his shoulders for support when you’re laying down. Although he prefers it if you sit onto his face, that way he can solely concentrate on eating you and playing with your clit. Sometimes, he’ll try to overstimulate you just to make you squirm and jump away. It makes him grin every time.

“My flame, my love- you taste divine… hah.”

P = Pace (Is he fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Kyojuro tries to be slow and sensual, savouring every second of feeling you wrapped around him, how you squeeze and squirm around, but that is also the reason he really can’t be slow and sensual. His waist snap against yours in an incredible speed, chasing his own high while trying so hard to bring you the exact same feeling he’s feeling right now. But when you take control and straddle him instead, your husband loves to watch you struggle taking him in fully and how slowly you’re is moving up and down his shaft- if you decide to be quicker, his hand would quickly slam against the headboard in a desperate attempt to hold onto something while you make him see stars.

Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies)

Kyojuro enjoys the playful nature of them and how spontaneous they are- you pulling him aside from his task just to seduce him? How perverted.

He enjoys them but doesn’t prefer them over full sessions. Your husband has surprisingly a lot of desire pent-up and is ready to bed you anytime you want, so he always has time for you coming onto him first. It’d feel like a break from a stressful day or a distraction from a particularly boring task— so he enjoys it!

“A-Ah, such a needy wife I-I have.”

R = Risk (Is he game to experiment?)

Yes! Kyojuro likes keeping things spicy in the bedroom by willing to experiment with you- whatever you like, he’s down for it (except humiliation of course)! He also has a thing for semi-public things, so he’d be more than willing to try things out in that department. Overall, if you want to try out spanking, food play, hair play, temperature or just plain vanilla, he’s down for everything! Please, use him for your pleasure! He’s even open to a little more… experimental things.

“P-Pegging? Really? Ahh… I trust you, I do, but… could you give me some time to think about it?”

S = Stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

Kyojuro can and wants to go as many rounds as possible. Even after years of neglecting endurance and stamina training, your husband still has the stamina of some kind of beast. He fights through overstimulation like a soldier, if that means bringing pleasure to you then so be it. He can handle a little sting.

It also takes a while for him to cum in general. It’s not particularly hard for him to cum, he just doesn’t to. Besides, it makes him grin how you whine about already being spend and he has not even finished once.

T = Toys (does he own toys? does he use them?)

You two share one rubber dildo. No further comment.

U = Unfair (how much does he tease?)

Given how much Kyojuro enjoys making you squirm and moan, he does like to tease a little. Not to the point of making you beg, but just to make you pout a little. It just turns him on all over again.

Also, he likes to tease you during the day by slipping his hand under your skirt or pants, cupping a feel of your assets before smiling brightly at you like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’ll even slip in a finger or two.

“What’s that look, my flame? I’m just feeling up my wife!”

V = Volume (how loud is he, what sounds does he make)

Kyojuro grunts and moans a lot, not shying away from showing how much he’s enjoying himself. Sometimes he might get a little embarrassed by moaning too loudly, so he’d bury his face inside your neck while keeping a steady pace, whining a little at the feeling of you tightening around him. It makes him blush a little hearing the sounds he’s able to produce thanks to you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for him)

Kyojuro loves to have cuddly sex with you. Cuddles are already his favourite, so cockwarming him while he holds you close is the closest he can get to the holy gates of heaven. Feeling your warmth around his length makes him almost feel a little droopy, his face buried in your neck while trying to subtly grind his hips against yours to stimulate you as well. His hand would be tightly gripping onto your waist, steadying you while he gently thrusts inside you, not being able to handle just being inside you without moving.

“Can I move a little? I-I promise I’ll be gentle, love… Gods, I love you so so much..”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes…)

He’s physically impressive, just like the rest of him. Kyojuro is well endowed and proportional to his tall, broad and muscular frame. Sometimes he’s nervous about hurting you, but your delightful moans reassure him pretty quickly. His thickness watches his wrist.

His pubic hair is taken care of but he’s not completely clean shaven.

(Again, sorry for this being so short and having no measures. I honestly have no idea XD)

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Your husband’s drive is quite high given his passionate and energised personality, wich only increased after retirement. He will barely act on it though, being insecure about being too needy or too much for you. Instead, he suppresses his desires and waits until you come onto him first. That way he can be sure you really, really want him and are not just acting like you want to have sex just because he is horny.

The downside of him suppressing his lust is that it all comes out once you two have sex; he’ll eat you out, he’ll make you cum twice before even thinking about sliding his length in, and after he does, his hips smack against yours, creating an incredible lewd rhythm and loud moans.

Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

After a particularly long session, Kyojuro would be spent. He’d doze off almost immediately after making sure you’re okay and he didn’t got too harsh with you. His soft cheek would be pressed up against your arm, his snores vibrating through your whole body. His heavy arm would be draped over your chest. You couldn’t help but smile a little at how his squishy cheeks looked so cute and how cuddly he always got after sex. You can’t help but look forward to cooking together with him in the morning.

🎃

Hope it was worth the wait @akazasfiancee ! <3

Finally got this done! I hope you all enjoyed reading it<3 Again, thank you @erexart for the beautiful cover art, I’m so grateful for you being so patient and kind to be. I’ll be looking forward to seeing more of your gorgeous art!! Please go check her out!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s my October event masterlist 🎃

[snail-day]

Thinking about how unhinged it would be to date/marry Sukuna. He's not exactly a normal man. Curse? Man? Who knows.

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Sukuna threatening to eat you (as a joke), pregnancy, its sukuna so...be warned? Fluffy. MDNI.

------

Sukuna uses the threat “I’m going to eat you” a little too often.

He thinks it’s funny. Thinks your wide-eyed horror is adorable. His sweet little dove, so gullible, so easy to spook. Every time he leans in close and whispers it low against your pulse, breath fanning the soft, sensitive skin. You flinch, unaware about how fond he is of you. Like you haven’t caught the way he watches you sleep, strokes your back when you’re sick, presses his palm over your belly now with something bordering on affection.

He doesn’t kiss your cheek like some sweet prince. No instead he bites. Sharp enough to leave little indents. Licks over the tender skin when you whine. Chuckles when you complain, pinching your hip or smoothing his hand over the curve of your stomach and muttering, “Just waiting until you’re nice and plump. Ripe.”

You thought it was a joke. Probably a joke. Actually, you aren't sure. You've heard the stories. The legends.

But then you got pregnant. And suddenly, every offhanded comment hit different.

Especially the time he said as his crimson eyes flicking lazily to your stomach, “If it’s a girl, I’ll eat it. So you better pray I get a son.”

You laughed. Nervously. Until you walked into the kitchen one day and found Uraume sharpening a long, glinting knife - expression blank as ever, as they asked, “Have you figured out the gender yet?”

You cried.

You cried all the way back to Sukuna, your pretty little body shaking as you sobbed into the warmth of his chest, pleading not to eat the baby. Or you. But mostly the baby. Please please please, you’ll be good, you’ll do anything.

Sukuna was a bit lost.

Sitting there, robes split open, a hand resting on your swollen belly, blinking down at you in baffled silence. His peachy brows furrowed as you hiccuped and clutched at him, and then, finally, he let out a low laugh and cupped your cheeks in his big, warm palms.

“You haven’t realized I’m joking, little dove?” he crooned, tilting your face up to meet his amused, if slightly exasperated, gaze. “You think I care if it’s a girl or boy? They’re going to be strong either way.”

You sniffled, lip wobbling. “You’re so mean.”

“I’m honest.”

“You said you’d eat them.”

“I also said I’d eat you,” he reminded you smugly, brushing his thumb under your eye. “And look at you. Still in one piece.”

You huffed, trembling against his chest, and he pressed a kiss to your temple. A rare gesture, one he only gave when he knew he’d pushed you just a little too far.

“…Besides,” he added, voice a low, teasing purr against your skin. “You’re out of your prime now. Too sweet. I don’t care for sweets.”

You slapped his arm, weakly.

He just laughed again, holding you tighter. Because you always fall for it. And deep down, a selfish part of him likes that you’re just scared enough to cling to him when you’re unsure. Because fear keeps things close. And close is exactly where he wants you.