#but just imagine for a moment that he did

[reasonsforhope]

"With Donald Trump set to take office after a fear-mongering campaign that reignited concerns about his desire to become a dictator, a reasonable question comes up: Can nonviolent struggle defeat a tyrant?

There are many great resources that answer this question, but the one that’s been on my mind lately is the Global Nonviolent Action Database, or GNAD, built by the Peace Studies department at Swarthmore College. Freely accessible to the public, this database — which launched under my direction in 2011 — contains over 1,400 cases of nonviolent struggle from over a hundred countries, with more cases continually being added by student researchers.  

At quick glance, the database details at least 40 cases of dictators who were overthrown by the use of nonviolent struggle, dating back to 1920. These cases — which include some of the largest nations in the world, spanning Europe, Asia, Africa and Latin America — contradict the widespread assumption that a dictator can only be overcome by violence. What’s more, in each of these cases, the dictator had the desire to stay, and possessed violent means for defense. Ultimately, though, they just couldn’t overcome the power of mass nonviolent struggle.  

In a number of countries, the dictator had been embedded for years at the time they were pushed out. Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak, for example, had ruled for over 29 years. In the 1990s, citizens usually whispered his name for fear of reprisal. Mubarak legalized a “state of emergency,” which meant censorship, expanded police powers and limits on the news media. Later, he “loosened” his rule, putting only 10 times as many police as the number of protesters at each demonstration.  

The GNAD case study describes how Egyptians grew their democracy movement despite repression, and finally won in 2011. However, gaining a measure of freedom doesn’t guarantee keeping it. As Egypt has shown in the years since, continued vigilance is needed, as is pro-active campaigning to deepen the degree of freedom won.  

Some countries repeated the feat of nonviolently deposing a ruler: In Chile, the people nonviolently threw out a dictator in 1931 and then deposed a new dictator in 1988. South Koreans also did it twice, once in 1960 and again in 1987. (They also just stopped their current president from seizing dictatorial powers, but that’s not yet in the database.)  

In each case people had to act without knowing what the reprisals would be...

It’s striking that in many of the cases I looked at, the movement avoided merely symbolic marches and rallies and instead focused on tactics that impose a cost on the regime. As Donald Trump wrestles to bring the armed forces under his control, for example, I can imagine picketing army recruiting offices with signs, “Don’t join a dictator’s army.”  

Another important takeaway: Occasional actions that simply protest a particular policy or egregious action aren’t enough. They may relieve an individual’s conscience for a moment, but, ultimately, episodic actions, even large ones, don’t assert enough power. Over and over, the Global Nonviolent Action Database shows that positive results come from a series of escalating, connected actions called a campaign...

-via Waging Nonviolence, January 8, 2025. Article continues below.

East Germany’s peaceful revolution

When East Germans began their revolt against the German Democratic Republic in 1988, they knew that their dictatorship of 43 years was backed by the Soviet Union, which might stage a deadly invasion. They nevertheless acted for freedom, which they gained and kept.

Researcher Hanna King tells us that East Germans began their successful campaign in January 1988 by taking a traditional annual memorial march and turning it into a full-scale demonstration for human rights and democracy. They followed up by taking advantage of a weekly prayer for peace at a church in Leipzig to organize rallies and protests. Lutheran pastors helped protect the organizers from retaliation and groups in other cities began to stage their own “Monday night demonstrations.”  

The few hundred initial protesters quickly became 70,000, then 120,000, then 320,000, all participating in the weekly demonstrations. Organizers published a pamphlet outlining their vision for a unified German democracy and turned it into a petition. Prisoners of conscience began hunger strikes in solidarity.

By November 1988, a million people gathered in East Berlin, chanting, singing and waving banners calling for the dictatorship’s end. The government, hoping to ease the pressure, announced the opening of the border to West Germany. Citizens took sledgehammers to the hated Berlin Wall and broke it down. Political officials resigned to protest the continued rigidity of the ruling party and the party itself disintegrated. By March 1990 — a bit over two years after the campaign was launched — the first multi-party, democratic elections were held.

Students lead the way in Pakistan

In Pakistan, it was university students (rather than religious clerics) who launched the 1968-69 uprising that forced Ayub Khan out of office after his decade as a dictator. Case researcher Aileen Eisenberg tells us that the campaign later required multiple sectors of society to join together to achieve critical mass, especially workers. 

It was the students, though, who took the initiative — and the initial risks. In 1968, they declared that the government’s declaration of a “decade of development” was a fraud, protesting nonviolently in major cities. They sang and marched to their own song called “The Decade of Sadness.” 

Police opened fire on one of the demonstrations, killing several students. In reaction the movement expanded, in numbers and demands. Boycotts grew, with masses of people refusing to pay the bus and railway fares on the government-run transportation system. Industrial workers joined the movement and practiced encirclement of factories and mills. An escalation of government repression followed, including more killings. 

As the campaign expanded from urban to rural parts of Pakistan, the movement’s songs and political theater thrived. Khan responded with more violence, which intensified the determination among a critical mass of Pakistanis that it was time for him to go.

After months of growing direct action met by repressive violence, the army decided its own reputation was being degraded by their orders from the president, and they demanded his resignation. He complied and an election was scheduled for 1970 — the first since Pakistan’s independence in 1947.

Why use nonviolent struggle?

The campaigns in East Germany and Pakistan are typical of all 40 cases in their lack of a pacifist ideology, although some individuals active in the movements had that foundation. What the cases do seem to have in common is that the organizers saw the strategic value of nonviolent action, since they were up against an opponent likely to use violent repression. Their commitment to nonviolence would then rally the masses to their side. 

That encourages me. There’s hardly time in the U.S. during Trump’s regime to convert enough people to an ideological commitment to nonviolence, but there is time to persuade people of the strategic value of a nonviolent discipline. 

It’s striking that in many of the cases I looked at, the movement avoided merely symbolic marches and rallies and instead focused on tactics that impose a cost on the regime. As Donald Trump wrestles to bring the armed forces under his control, for example, I can imagine picketing army recruiting offices with signs, “Don’t join a dictator’s army.”  

Another important takeaway: Occasional actions that simply protest a particular policy or egregious action aren’t enough. They may relieve an individual’s conscience for a moment, but, ultimately, episodic actions, even large ones, don’t assert enough power. Over and over, the Global Nonviolent Action Database shows that positive results come from a series of escalating, connected actions called a campaign — the importance of which is also outlined in my book “How We Win.”  

As research seminar students at Swarthmore continue to wade through history finding new cases, they are digging up details on struggles that go beyond democracy. The 1,400 already-published cases include campaigns for furthering environmental justice, racial and economic justice, and more. They are a resource for tactical ideas and strategy considerations, encouraging us to remember that even long-established dictators have been stopped by the power of nonviolent campaigns.

-via Waging Nonviolence, January 8, 2025.

[littlepeach-world]

 Which Boyfriend Calls Back First?

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your friends test your boyfriends' responsiveness with a playful TikTok challenge, and naturally, your devoted boyfriend In-ho is the first to call back.

Warnings: Fluff, Cute!inho, Clingy!Inho, Protective!Inho.

Word count: 1k

You and your four friends—Yuri, May, Chaein, and Hayoung—gather around the dining table, each of you armed with your smartphones. The room buzzes with a mix of excitement and nervous laughter as you all prepare to join the latest TikTok trend: determining which of your boyfriends will respond the fastest to a missed call.

"Okay, ladies, are we ready?" Yuri asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Ready!" everyone chimes in unison.

You steal a glance at your friends, feeling the collective anticipation building up. "Alright, on the count of three: one, two, three!" you call out.

You all dial your respective partners simultaneously and then quickly hang up, creating what’s known as a "flash" call. The five of you place your phones back on the table, the screens facing up, and exchange amused and curious glances, eager to see which boyfriend will react first.

May leans back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smirk. "I bet Mark will call me back first. He's always so quick to respond."

Chaein laughs, shaking her head. "Oh please, Sunoo is definitely the fastest. Just wait and see."

You feel a familiar flutter of excitement as you look at your phone, fully confident in In-ho’s attentiveness. "Well, let’s just see about that," you say, grinning.

"Honestly, In-ho will probably call back first because he's so obsessed with Y/N. I mean, I'm surprised he even let her come out tonight," Yuri jokes with a knowing smile. 

It was no exaggeration; you and In-ho were practically inseparable. He despised being apart from you and would become upset if you were away for even a few hours. Heading out tonight to spend time with your friends had been an uphill battle, as he did everything he could to persuade you to stay with him instead. His unwavering devotion and the way he always wanted to be near you were endearing, adding a touch of romance to your relationship that made your bond even stronger.

Within moments, your phone lights up and starts ringing. The screen displays In-ho's name, and your heart does a little flip. You catch the surprised looks from your friends and can't help but laugh.

"Damn, In-ho’s fast!" Hayoung exclaims, genuinely impressed.

You pick up your phone, feeling a surge of warmth. "Hello?" you answer, trying to suppress a giggle.

"Is everything okay?" In-ho’s voice comes through, filled with concern.

"Everything's fine, love. It was just a little game we were playing," you say, your voice softening.

In-ho is renowned for his authoritative role and his emotionally guarded demeanor, but in moments like these, the depth of his love for you becomes undeniably clear. Despite the demands of his position as the Front Man, where he commands control and garners respect from everyone around him, you are the exception to his rigid exterior. Even amidst his busy schedule, he always ensures to carve out time for you, willing to drop anything at a moment's notice just to be by your side.

The room fills with light-hearted groans and chuckles as your friends mock-complain about losing the lighthearted competition. "Looks like Y/N's the winner," Yuri concedes with a playful pout.

You walk into another room, still on the phone with your love. In-ho's concern is palpable, yet there's a gentle humor in his voice as he says, "I could hear those groans and laughs—sounds lively over there."

"It's definitely lively," you reply, a soft laugh escaping. "We're just caught up in a silly game right now. But everything's all good, nothing to worry about."

There’s a brief pause, and you can imagine him thoughtfully staring into the distance, just as he often does.

"Are you having fun?" he asks, his tone lightening.

You smile, "Yeah, it's a lot of fun. We're all really into these goofy challenges."

"Good," In-ho replies, a warm undertone in his voice. "Do you need me to pick up anything from the store before you come back home?"

You think for a moment and then smile. "Actually, could you grab some snacks for later? You know, our usuals."

"Consider it done," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Anything else?"

"No, that should be it. Thanks, love," you say, feeling grateful for his thoughtfulness. "Just get yourself home safely."

"I will," he promises. "I miss you."

Your heart swells at his simple admission. "I miss you too," you reply softly. "I'll see you soon."

As you hang up, your thoughts wander to the unique dynamic of your relationship with In-ho. You know that most people would probably find having a clingy, overprotective boyfriend suffocating or annoying. They might complain about the constant check-ins or the way he always wants to know you're safe. But for you, it's different. His attentiveness and concern are like a warm blanket on a cold night—they wrap you in a sense of comfort and security that you've come to cherish deeply.

You love how every call, every message from him is a small reminder that you are loved and valued. In a world that often feels chaotic and unpredictable, his protective nature provides a reassuring constant. In-ho has a way of making you feel like you are the most important person in his world, and it's a feeling you wouldn't trade for anything.

Your mind drifts back to a conversation you had with him not long ago. He had confessed that he had never been this way with anyone before. "I've never felt the need to be so protective," he had admitted, his voice soft but sincere. "But with you, I just want to make sure you're always okay."

His words had struck a chord deep within you. Knowing that his behavior wasn't a default setting but something unique to your relationship made you appreciate it even more. It was as if you had unlocked a part of him that had remained hidden until you came into his life.

Rejoining your friends, you can't help but smile, the warmth of In-ho's recent call lingering like a tender embrace. The noise and laughter around you feel a bit more vibrant, the evening a bit more enjoyable, all because of the love and devotion you know is waiting for you at home.

[ssahotchnerr]

baby fever - aaron hotchner x reader

request: Hi! I love the whole married trope with hotch AND I HAD AN EPIPHANY! I can just imagine reader and Aaron being married for a few months before JJ gives birth again and Aaron gets baby fever 😭 Like he would start hinting at wanting another baby and would eventually ask you everyday for a baby

reposting because i accidentally deleted the original :( cw; fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, some suggestiveness, fluff and aaron being soo ❤️‍🔥🥰

It was finally your turn to hold Michael.

You've been patiently waiting all night, Aaron could practically feel the anticipation radiating off you. It took a while, as he had plenty of other aunts and uncles. And much to your credit, you managed to resist the urge to hover too closely to whoever was holding him at the moment.

You were sat comfortably on the couch with Jack nestled right beside you, his small body pressed close with barely an inch to spare.

From where he was discretely observing across the room, Aaron couldn’t quite make out the words you were saying. However, he noticed the way your voice softened, your head soon tilting in an encouraging nod.

Jack, with a look of quiet concentration, gently offered a finger to Michael. Without hesitation his tiny hand clasped onto it, and Jack’s face pulled into one of content, his eyes in awe at the connection.

Aaron's mind beelined in one direction at the sight, and his heart produced an extreme sense of deja vu; the same thrilling feeling and unfathomable love when Jack was born.

This, but with a baby of your own.

For months now, he's hinted at wanting another baby. It started with him sharing updates on JJ's pregnancy (which contributed to his want as a whole). It then led into him mentioning if you had a baby now, the age gap between the little one and Jack would be perfect. He brought up potential baby names, 'Eleanor would be a cute name for a girl, don't you think?' He even told you once out of the blue he was researching car seats, to ensure you had the safest one when the time came.

Until finally he just straight up asked you, Can we have a baby? and while you wholeheartedly shared the enthusiasm and wanted one as badly as he did, it got put on the back burner. Between both your jobs and the natural busyness of life, the timing was never right.

But now, the urge was too strong to continue to let simmer.

A while later, you were traveling down the hallway - looking for him actually - when Aaron found your hand out of nowhere, swiftly tugging you into the bathroom hidden away from everyone else. The door snapped shut behind you.

"There you are. I was just-"

He interrupted you with a kiss. An eager, as if his life depended on it type of kiss. His hands found the small of your back, pulling your body against his. It got heated rather quickly, your shared passion intertwining together.

Eventually you let out a soft laugh against his lips, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "What was that for?"

"I was thinking," You nodded, urging him to continue. Aaron's brown eyes were locked onto yours, a quiet intensity within them that was also the gentlest you've ever seen. "A lot, you know. And I think we should try for a baby."

Your eyes widened, "Now?"

"No, not now," Aaron laughed which you shared, his gaze shooting to the door momentarily, where the muffled voices of the team drifted from outside. "But yeah... now. I think the time's right. We've been married a while, work is slowing down," He paused for a moment, almost humorously, "As much as it can. But sweetheart, and if you're on board that is, I don't think I can wait any longer."

A baby. A new chapter. Growing your family - your heart fluttered at the thought. And in Aaron's face, you saw certainty, longing, excitement.

"And can you imagine?" His hands grabbed yours, "A baby who's the perfect combination of me and you. My dark eyebrows furrowing across their tiny forehead. A baby with your eyes and heart. Jack as a big brother. Can you think of anything more perfect?"

An obvious gleam was present in your eyes, the ends of your lips raising in a relaxed smile. You didn't need convincing, "Okay."

Aaron fell silent for a moment, as if he expected to do some convincing, despite the knowledge of your want being no different than his.

"Really?" He asked, his voice soft but laced with an earnestness that made your heart melt.

You grinned, pressing your lips against his in a kiss. He attempted to deepen it, to prolong it again, but you had forced yourself away. "You're right, I can't imagine anything more perfect. I want as many babies as we can possibly handle, as soon as possible. But I just know, she'll have your eyes. I'm sure of it."

"So we're trying." His smile took on a newfound charm, one both  playful and irresistibly endearing. Also, a bit on the smirky side, as the task to create a baby was certainly enjoyable.

"We're trying." You confirmed with a small smirk of your own, kissing him once more. Your hands traveled up his chest, to his shoulders, and back around, savoring the feeling of him.

Aaron sighed out against your mouth, hot and heavily. "Think we could persuade anyone to watch Jack tonight? So we can get started?"

[aesthetically-dying101]

Smooch

A/N: TO THE ANON: IM SO SORRY, i accidently deleted the ask that asked: "how would the jjk men react to you randomely kissing them?" FUCK ME IM SORRY FOR DELETING IT, ANYWAYS POOKIE HERE IT IS

warning: some established relationships, some non established, kissing, gojo being a lil shit, nanami being so DAMN adorabe its making me vomit. creepy rando man. mostly fluff tho (not for geto, sorry pookies), i'm being nice. Mostly crack

Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)

The air still thrummed with the tension of battle, smoke and cursed energy clinging to the ruined streets like stubborn memories. You stood on trembling legs, the adrenaline making everything sharper: the glint of blood on the edge of Nanami's blade, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the way his tie flapped rebelliously despite the chaos being over.

You’d seen him fight before, but this? This was something else. The man was a force. Watching him wade through curses, calm and unyielding, to protect his students—protect Yuji—had set your heart on fire.

Literally. Your chest ached. He was just so… Hot.

Inspiring.

Selfless.

Outrageously overworked, but hot.

Your crush on Nanami was no secret to yourself, though you’d buried it deep under professionalism and a healthy dose of "I'm-a-grown-adult-who-totally-has-it-together" denial.

“Kento,” you croaked, your throat dry from shouting during the fight. Not that he heard. He was still wiping blood from his weapon, his focus entirely on making sure Yuji wasn’t missing any limbs.

Yuji, for his part, looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m fine, Nanami. Really! A couple of scratches—”

“Scratches become infections. Infections become—” Nanami began, his voice low and even, and you wanted to scream because how dare he sound that composed after nearly dying. Maybe it was your brain short-circuiting from the sheer Nanami-ness of him.

The sheer whiplash of your emotions—from panic to relief to sheer I cannot believe this man exists—burst out of you like a firework. Before you could second-guess yourself, your feet moved. You grabbed the front of his stupid, perfectly pressed shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.

Kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned.

It was pure, unfiltered relief, and affection, and admiration, and the overwhelming sense that Kento Nanami was too goddamn precious for this world. His lips were warm and dry, just like you imagined.

For one glorious moment, he froze—caught off guard in a way you’d never seen before. Then his hand twitched like he might touch you, and that’s when reality smacked you upside the head.

“Oh my God,” you blurted, shoving him away so hard he actually stumbled back a step. “Oh my God, I’m sorry—Nanami, I—Mr. Nanami—I mean, Kento—I—what did I just do?” Your hands flew to your face, muffling your panicked stream of consciousness.

Nanami stood there, stunned, his weapon slack in one hand.

“I don’t—uh—wow,” you stammered, pacing in tight circles. “That was so inappropriate. I mean, we’re at work—well, technically a post-apocalyptic battlefield, but that’s basically work. I just—oh my God, you’re bleeding. Are you bleeding? You are! Let me—no, no, I can’t touch you—”

“Do you like me?” His calm voice cut through your spiral like a knife through butter.

You stopped mid-pace, blinking at him.

“Do I…” You pointed to yourself, dumbfounded. “Do I like you?”

Nanami’s brow furrowed like he was trying to solve a riddle.

“You kissed me. That suggests…” He trailed off, his ears red. Red. Nanami Kento, the unshakable man himself, was blushing.

“OF COURSE I LIKE YOU!” you blurted, because what else was there to say? “Are you kidding me? You’re smart, and kind, and self-sacrificing to a fault, and the way you fight—” You gestured vaguely toward his weapon, heat flooding your face. “I mean, it’s really impressive, and your voice is, like, weirdly soothing? And—God, have you seen your hands? They’re insane. Like, how dare you have hands like that?”

Yuji, bless his sweet little heart, was standing a few feet away, looking utterly bewildered but also kind of...proud? Like he was rooting for you? You couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.

Yuji made a small sound somewhere behind you.

“Yay?”

“Yuji, not now!” you snapped, your eyes still locked on Nanami, who looked like you’d just handed him a quadratic equation written in crayon.

The silence stretched. You wanted to melt into the cracked pavement and die there. And then—slowly, impossibly—his lips twitched.

“‘How dare I have hands like that?’” he repeated, his tone dry but warm.

“Don’t mock me! I’m having a crisis!”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint laugh lines around his eyes. “I’m not mocking you.” His voice softened. “I’m trying to process.”

“Process what? That I kissed you? That I have terrible taste in men—not that you’re terrible, you’re amazing—oh my God, I’m still talking—”

“I like you too.”

You froze. “What?”

“I said I like you too,” he repeated, his expression calm but his eyes gentle. “And I’m glad you kissed me, even if it was…unexpected.”

“Unexpected?!” Yuji exclaimed. “Dude, we all saw it coming!”

You and Nanami both turned to glare at him, and Yuji threw up his hands in surrender. “I mean—yay! Go, you guys! Woo!”

Nanami sighed, his hand reaching up to adjust his tie, and you caught it before he could. His gaze flicked to yours, surprised.

“Just…take care of yourself, okay?” you murmured. “You can’t keep putting everyone else first all the time.”

His hand closed around yours, firm and reassuring. “If I promise, will you stop worrying?”

You bit your lip. “Maybe. If you promise and let me take you to dinner.”

He raised a brow. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

“Understood,” he said, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw him smile.

You stumble into the apartment you share with Toji, at what must be the devil’s hour, the taste of dried blood and exhaustion heavy on your tongue. Your body feels like it’s made of bricks, each step a reminder of tonight’s shitshow. The job was a disaster, but hey, you're alive.

Barely.

Your shoulder’s throbbing, probably dislocated (you know you're gonna ask Toji to snap it back into place); there’s a slice on your thigh that’s gonna leave a nasty scar, and you’re fairly certain you’ve got a mild concussion. But the mission? Technically complete. Success, if you squint.

The apartment is dark, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp slicing through the blinds. The air is thick with the familiar scent of gun oil and that stupid cologne Toji always wears. You peel off your boots by the door, wincing as your sock squelches. Blood. Great.

Toji’s a lump on the bed, sprawled out like a dead man. His arm dangles off the side, his breathing slow and deep. Must be nice to sleep like that.

Must be nice to sleep at all.

You limp over, each step making you rethink your life choices, and shake his shoulder. Gently, at first. He doesn’t budge. Typical. You give him another shove.

“Oi, wake up, Toji.”

Still nothing. Unbelievable.

You’re mid-eye roll when he moves like a damn cobra, faster than your sluggish brain can process. In one smooth motion, he’s got you flat on your back with the cold barrel of his pistol pressed firmly against your throat.

Your first thought? Oh, for fuck’s sake.

His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, but there’s enough menace in them to make anyone else wet their pants.

“Wife?” he grunts, voice rough from sleep.

Neanderthal, you think, staring up at him, unimpressed. You’ve just dragged yourself home from a near-death experience, and this is the reception you get? He smells like sweat and sleep (is that a thing?), his hair sticking up at angles only a demon could love. And he has the audacity to press a gun to your throat? Really?

“Put the gun down, idiot,” you mutter, too tired to care that he could accidentally end you right now.

Toji blinks, his foggy brain clearly struggling to connect the dots. But he lowers the weapon anyway, tossing it to the side with a grunt.

“You good?” he asks, rubbing a hand over his face.

Instead of answering, you grab his face. Both hands, firm, like he’s some unruly beast you’re taming. Toji freezes, wide-eyed, and before he can start grumbling or say something infuriating, you kiss him.

Not a peck. Not a lazy, tired smooch.

A kiss.

Like the kind that says, I almost died tonight but didn’t, and for some reason, I wanted to see your dumbass face when I got back.

He doesn’t react at first, probably still half-asleep and trying to figure out if this is some kind of weird dream. But then his hands come up, one settling on your hip, the other cradling the back of your head like you’re made of glass. He kisses you back, slow at first, then with a kind of feral intensity that makes you forget you’re bleeding all over the damn bed.

When you finally pull back, panting and lightheaded, he stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “What the hell was that for?”

You flop onto the mattress next to him, groaning as every injury makes itself known. “Almost died. Needed a kiss. Shut up.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutters, “You’re bleeding.”

“No shit, my shoulder's been dislocated too,” you snap, already regretting the kiss because now you’re reminded that everything hurts. “You gonna fix it, or just stare at me all night?”

Toji huffs, dragging himself out of bed.

“You’re lucky I like you, woman,” he grumbles, rummaging for the first aid kit.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, letting your eyes drift closed. The bed dips as he sits back down, and you feel the sting of antiseptic on your shoulder.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he says, voice softer now. “Gotta patch you up first.”

“Whatever you say, caveman.”

You think you hear him chuckle, low and rough, but you’re already half-gone. And despite the pain, despite the chaos of the night, you feel... safe. Stupidly safe, with Toji grumbling insults under his breath and his hands working carefully to keep you in one piece.

Home. Or something like it.

Gojo Satoru walked into the apartment, exhausted but relieved to finally be home. He'd been on mission after mission for what felt like forever, leaving little time for himself, let alone his girlfriend. The past few days had been a blur of paperwork, cursed spirits, and long hours of absence that left an ache in his chest, a longing to be with the one person who always made him feel like himself.

As the door clicked shut behind him, a familiar shift in the air settled over him — his Infinity. It wasn't just the buzz of the usual limitless power that made him feel protected and invincible, no, this was different. This was the subtle, barely perceptible moment when he knew his Infinity was off because she was here. It always did that when she was around, and he knew she’d be nearby.

But before he could even finish the word “I’m home—”

BAM.

You crashed into him, practically knocking the wind out of his lungs. Your lips slammed against his with all the pent-up affection that had built in your heart over the past few days. You kissed him like he was air, your hands grasping at the front of his shirt as if you'd missed him more than anything. The kiss was messy, needy — but most importantly, it was real.

Gojo froze for a split second, a low laugh escaping his lips as he felt the sheer intensity of your sudden onslaught. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as though he could disappear again if you didn’t hold him tightly enough.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he mumbled against your lips, feigning surprise, though the dramatic shift in his voice betrayed how deeply he was enjoying it. “Is this how you welcome me home, huh?”

“You’ve been gone for days, Satoru,” you muttered in between kisses, your voice muffled but full of emotion. “I missed you.”

You couldn’t help but slip your hands lower, brushing against the firm muscles of his chest, feeling the warmth that only he had. It wasn’t just about the absence- it was the aching distance, the unsaid words, the nights you'd spent curled in bed, staring at the empty space beside you, wishing he was there.

Gojo felt his heart skip a beat- you had that effect on him, always. Your warmth, your softness, and the way you seemed to understand him better than anyone else. The tension in his shoulders melted away as he melted into you, hands sliding down to hold you by the waist, to anchor you against him.

And then, with a dramatic gasp that could only be Gojo, he pulled back, his hands coming up to cradle your face (kinda squishing your cheeks), eyes wide as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“Princess—” he whined, the very term of endearment a mockery of how absurdly dramatic he could get. “I’ve been gone for days, and this is how you treat me? After everything I’ve sacrificed for you? For us?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You adored his theatrics, even if they were so Gojo Satoru.

“Yes, this is how I treat you,” you teased, glancing up at him with a playful sparkle in your eyes. “Now, kiss me like you mean it.”

And as if on cue, his lips descended, only to be met with—spray.

Hsssssssssss!

The sharp, cold spray of her plant vaporizer hit him right in the face.

His mouth immediately fell open in shock, the spray misting his face, and Gojo recoiled in mock horror. “WHAT—?!”

“You were gone too long,” you said, still holding the sprayer with an air of nonchalance, though you could barely keep your own smile from breaking through. “You don’t get to come back after disappearing and act like everything’s fine. You’re gonna have to earn your kiss.”

His hand flew to his face, rubbing the wetness away in exaggerated frustration.

“You vaporized me?!” he asked, turning his eyes toward you, his dramatic pout making him look like a child who’d been wronged. “After all I’ve done for you?! All my sacrifices? I’ve been risking my life, getting cursed every time, and THIS is how you treat me? This?!”

You giggled, looking at him like he was a giant kid. “You did disappear for days, 'Toru. And you were busy being all heroic, saving the day. Not like you left me with any choice.”

He wiped his face again, but as he did, he kept his eyes on you, his usual smugness replaced by a touch of genuine longing.

“I didn’t want to be gone,” he muttered, the act slipping for a moment as he looked at you with an almost vulnerable expression. “But you know how it is... sometimes I’m not really in control of it. I just... miss you, too. I just...”

Before he could finish, you stepped forward again, slower this time, your hands gently cupping his cheeks. This time, your kiss was softer, more tender, a quiet apology for the harsh spray. Your lips were warm against his, and the familiarity of your scent- the sweetness of your presence- seemed to fill every space around him. Your kiss spoke of longing, of missing him in ways that words couldn’t explain.

Gojo’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. For a moment, there was nothing but the shared warmth, the closeness of your connection.

“I missed you,” you whispered, breaking the kiss just long enough to say it. “I missed you so much, Satoru. You don’t even know.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, brushing a strand of your hair from your face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice steady but full of affection. “I missed you, too. You’re all I ever think about when I’m out there.”

A silence fell between you, comfortable, soft. You rested your forehead against his, and he closed his eyes, just enjoying the moment.

Home.

“I’m never leaving you that long again,” he promised, his hands still resting on your hips, pulling you into him.

“Good,” you said with a playful grin. “If you do, I'll vaporize you again.”

He shot her a teasing look. “NooOOo- t's gonna mess up my hair-”

With a dramatic sigh, he kissed you again, and this time, there was no interruption, just two people who couldn’t bear to be apart any longer.

The sun was setting, casting golden rays across the horizon, as though the universe itself mourned for the moment. You sat beside Suguru, his body battered and bruised, the life draining from him far too quickly. Blood pooled around him, a cruel mockery of the warmth he used to exude. His breaths were shallow, his strength ebbing away like water through a sieve.

He was still so beautiful.

Your hands trembled as you reached out to him, brushing strands of dark hair from his face.

That face.

It still bore the faintest traces of the boy you once knew—sharp, confident, full of purpose. Now, his features were gaunt, his skin pallid, but his eyes... his eyes still held a spark of the man you had loved. The man you still loved.

"Suguru..." your voice cracked, a whisper more than a word.

He managed a weak smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

"You're here," he rasped, his voice barely audible, strained.

Tears blurred your vision.

You nodded, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, as if the pain could anchor you in the reality of the moment.

"Of course, I’m here," you said, your voice breaking. "Where else would I be?"

A bitter chuckle escaped him, though it sounded more like a cough. "By his side," he murmured, the weight of Gojo’s name heavy in the space between you.

You shook your head fiercely. "Don’t," you pleaded. "Don’t do that. Don’t push me away—not now."

His gaze softened, but there was a flicker of sadness in his expression. "Old habits, I guess."

Silence settled between you for a moment, save for the distant cries of the injured and the hum of the world continuing without care. You hated it. How could everything go on like this while he was slipping away?

"I should’ve done more," you blurted out, the confession tearing from your chest like a wound ripped open. "I should’ve stopped you... back then. I should’ve fought harder for you."

Suguru’s brows furrowed slightly, a mix of surprise and regret crossing his face. "You couldn’t have stopped me," he said softly. "I made my choice."

"But I should have tried!" you cried, your voice cracking under the weight of your guilt. "I knew you were hurting. I saw it, and I—" Your words faltered, choked by a sob. "I thought if I gave you space, you’d come back. That you’d find your way back to me. To us."

His hand, weak but steady, reached out to yours. His touch was colder than you remembered, but it grounded you all the same. "Don’t blame yourself," he murmured. "You... you were the one good thing I had left, and I couldn’t taint that. You were my light, even when I didn’t deserve it."

You leaned closer, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. "You’ve always deserved it," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I never stopped loving you, Suguru. Not for a second. Not even when you—"

Your voice caught, and you lowered your head, pressing your forehead against his. He smelled faintly of blood and something earthy, something that reminded you of home.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered. "I’m so, so sorry."

Suguru’s breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought you saw his composure crack. His eyes glistened, his lips parting as though to say something, but he hesitated. "I... I don’t deserve your love," he finally said, his voice barely more than a breath. "Not after everything I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt."

You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "You deserve every ounce of love, Suguru," you said fiercely, your voice steadier than you thought possible. "Even when you were lost, even when I didn’t know how to reach you—I loved you."

And then, before either of you could second-guess, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft, tentative, a brush of lips that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. Suguru stiffened beneath you, his breath hitching, but he didn’t pull away. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a brief, fragile moment, it was as though the weight of the world had lifted. There was only you, only him.

When you pulled back, his gaze searched yours, wide with surprise and something else—something raw and unguarded. "Why...?" he asked, his voice cracking, his brows furrowing as though the question itself pained him. "Why would you...?"

You smiled through your tears, shaking your head. "Because I never stopped," you said simply. "And because you deserved to know before—" Your voice broke again, and you choked back a sob. "Before it’s too late."

A tear slipped down his cheek, and his lips curved into the faintest smile.

"You’re cruel," he whispered, though there was no malice in his tone. "Giving me a taste of something I can’t hold onto."

"You’ve always held it," you said, your voice trembling. "Even when you didn’t know it."

You kissed him again, deeper this time, as if you could pour all the love, all the regret, all the words left unsaid into that single moment. When you pulled back, Suguru’s eyes were glassy, his breaths shallower than before. God no- please, he needs more time.

"I wish..." he began, but his voice faltered.

You nodded, understanding the words he couldn’t say. "Me too," you whispered, your thumb brushing against his cheek. "I wish we had more time."

The light in his eyes began to fade, and panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay steady. This was his moment, not yours. You wouldn’t let your fear steal it from him.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "For... for everything."

Your heart shattered, the pieces lodging in your throat, but you managed a smile, even as tears blurred your vision. "Always," you whispered. "Always, Suguru."

His eyes lingered on yours for a heartbeat longer before they slipped shut, his breath hitching once, then stilling. You clung to him, pressing your forehead to his, your tears mixing with the blood and sweat on his skin.

And then, there was nothing.

The grand hall buzzed with life, the air thick with wine, roasted meats, and the chatter of those brave—or foolish—enough to attend a banquet in Ryomen Sukuna's domain. You, one of the longest-standing servants in his service, moved amidst the chaos, your well-practiced steps carrying trays, refilling goblets, and blending into the shadows. You had no illusions about your position here. To serve the King of Curses was to balance on a knife's edge, but the years had hardened you. You were still alive, and in a place like this, that was an achievement in itself.

Perhaps you were even favored.

The whispers among the other servants suggested so. Sukuna, for all his wrath and godlike power, hadn’t crushed you beneath his four arms or silenced you for eternity. It wasn’t kindness, you knew that much. But the fact that you were still here, breathing, meant something. And that meant you tread carefully—at least most of the time.

But tonight? Tonight, you drank (a terrible decision, really).

The banquet was in full swing, and even servants were afforded some respite during such grand affairs. You’d accepted a goblet of sake, relishing the brief warmth it offered your tired limbs, and maybe—just maybe—you indulged in one too many. Which is why you didn’t immediately notice the attention of a particular male servant lingering too long, his touch brushing your arm as he whispered something that made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

“Don’t.” Your voice was firm, but the man didn’t relent, his smirk a sickening thing.

The room suddenly felt too small, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that felt sharper, darker. You turned, stumbling slightly in your attempt to move away, only to collide with something solid, something unyielding.

Four arms caught you in an iron grip, steadying your swaying form.

And then you looked up.

Sukuna, in all his terrifying glory, loomed over you.

His dual faces stared down, one expression unreadable, the other bearing a smirk that could freeze blood. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, and the room seemed to hold its breath. The noise, the revelry—it all faded into nothingness as your brain registered who you’d just stumbled into.

“Oh—my Lord, I—” Words failed you, and before you could think better of it, you leaned up on unsteady toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

As if that'd make any situation better.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even logical. You’d kissed him out of pure instinct, as though the ridiculous gesture could smooth over your mistake. The taste of sake lingered on your lips, and you felt his skin—warm, impossibly warm—beneath them.

The world stopped.

Sukuna didn’t move, didn’t speak. He merely stared at you, the faintest arch of his brow the only indication of his surprise. One of his mouths twitched, as though he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or bare his teeth.

But the other servant? He slinked away without another word, the weight of Sukuna’s gaze enough to cow even the boldest.

You, however, weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking about how dead you were.

“My apologies, my Lord,” you mumbled, stepping back quickly, your legs trembling as you bowed low. “It was a mistake. I—I’ll leave—”

You fled without hesitation, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

*-*

The morning came too soon, and with it, a summons to Sukuna’s quarters.

You stood outside the heavy wooden doors, your palms sweating despite the cold. Servants whispered as they passed, their pitying gazes confirming your worst fears.

You’d kissed the King of Curses- on the cheek- but still.

You’d crossed a line so absurd it was almost laughable—almost.

The doors creaked open, and you stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of incense and something darker, something uniquely him. Sukuna lounged on a throne-like chair, his four arms resting lazily, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your knees threaten to give out.

“You summoned me, my Lord.” Your voice was steady—barely.

He leaned forward slightly, a smile curling one of his mouths. “Do you make it a habit to kiss your superiors, little one? Or am I special?”

Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your chest.

“No, my Lord. It was— It wasn’t intentional. I—”

“Explain.” His tone was almost amused, but the weight of his command was unmistakable.

You swallowed hard, words tumbling out before you could stop them. “There was a servant. He—he wouldn’t leave me alone. I was trying to get away, and I—” You broke off, heat flooding your face as you realized how ridiculous it all sounded. “I thought… If I kissed you, he’d stop.”

Silence.

And then Sukuna laughed.

It wasn’t the cruel, mocking laugh you’d feared. It was low, rumbling, and almost—almost—genuine. “You used me as a shield? Bold. Stupid, but bold.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“Offend me?” He rose, his massive form towering over you as he descended the steps toward where you stood trembling. One clawed hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re lucky I find this amusing. If it were anyone else…”

His words hung in the air, unfinished, and you didn’t need him to elaborate.

“But…” His voice softened, though it was no less dangerous. “The thought of another human touching what’s mine—” His grip tightened ever so slightly, his crimson eyes darkening. “—that doesn’t sit well with me.”

You blinked, confusion warring with fear. “Yours?”

“Yes, mine.” The declaration was calm, almost matter-of-fact. “You’ve served me longer than any other. You’re still alive. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Your heart stuttered, his words wrapping around you like a noose. “I—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, little one.” He released you, turning back toward his throne. “You’ll stay by my side from now on. I don’t want anyone else getting ideas.”

The dismissal was clear, but your legs refused to move, your mind reeling. Sukuna glanced back, his smirk widening at your stunned expression. “What are you waiting for? Go. And don’t make me summon you for something so trivial again.”

You bowed quickly, fleeing the room before he could change his mind.

As you stumbled into the corridor, your heart still racing, one thought burned in your mind.

What just happened?

Choso hadn’t expected to see you here.

The fight had been messy—blood everywhere, clinging to his skin, his clothes, the ground. Some of it wasn’t his own, but that didn’t make it better. The curse had been stubborn, and Choso’s cursed technique demanded sacrifice, drawing from the very essence of his being to fuel his strength.

Now, the aftermath was a field of carnage, and he stood in the middle of it, panting. His hair clung to his damp forehead, stray strands falling from the tie that barely kept it in place. Crimson stained his hands, dripping from his fingertips like a grim metronome. He was still catching his breath when your voice broke through the haze.

“Choso!”

You ran toward him, your expression shifting from relief to concern as you closed the distance. He froze, wide-eyed, as you reached him, ignoring the gore and grime that painted him from head to toe.

“Hey—what are you doing here?” His voice came out rough, almost scolding, but the undercurrent of worry was impossible to miss. “This isn’t a safe place—”

“Are you okay?” you interrupted, not stopping until you were right in front of him. You looked him over, your hands hovering near his arm before pulling back. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not mine,” he said quickly, though his voice faltered when he saw the doubt flash in your eyes. “...Most of it isn’t mine.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as you stepped even closer. He could feel your warmth now, the way your presence melted into his, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

“You shouldn’t—”

Before he could finish, you cupped his face in your hands, ignoring the sticky residue of blood that smeared against your palms. His lips parted in a silent protest that died the second your lips met his.

The kiss was soft, lingering—nothing hurried, nothing frantic. Just your warmth, your assurance, pouring into him like sunlight piercing through a storm. His mind blanked. For a moment, the weight of the fight, the exhaustion, the blood, it all evaporated.

When you pulled back, you didn’t move far, your faces still close enough for him to see the tiny flecks of color in your eyes.

“I’m covered in blood,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“So what?” You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face with a thumb. “I still love you.”

The words hit him harder than any blow he’d taken during the fight. He stared at you, his breath catching, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might give out.

“You shouldn’t—” he began, but you cut him off again, this time with a finger pressed gently to his lips.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I should or shouldn’t feel.” Your voice was soft but firm, leaving no room for argument. “I love you, Choso. Blood, scars, all of it.”

He swallowed hard, searching your face for any sign of hesitation, any trace of fear. But all he found was sincerity, shining as brightly as the sun.

“I—” His voice cracked, and he cursed himself for it, looking away. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Yes, you do,” you said without missing a beat. You tilted his chin back toward you, forcing him to meet your gaze. “And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”

For a moment, he could only stare at you, his mind a whirlwind of emotions too tangled to unravel. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he reached for you, his blood-streaked hands trembling as they came to rest on your waist.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken, something fragile.

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you,” you said with a gentle laugh, leaning in to rest your forehead against his.

He closed his eyes, letting the sound of your laughter fill the hollow spaces inside him. For the first time in what felt like forever, the blood on his hands didn’t feel like a weight he had to carry alone.

“I’ll get better at this,” he promised, his voice a quiet vow.

“You don’t have to,” you replied softly. “You’re enough just like this.”

And in that moment, with your arms around him and your love anchoring him, he almost believed it.

Shiu Kong was done.

Done with Toji’s crap, done with his own responsibilities, done with the persistent ache in his shoulders from hunching over paperwork all damn day.

His tie was loosened, but it felt more like a noose. A neat pile of ash gathered in the tray beside him, his third cigarette of the last hour smoldering between his fingers. Even the quiet hum of his office was suffocating. He just wanted— needed—a moment of silence, of nothingness, where the world would stop demanding every ounce of his energy.

So when the door creaked open, a surge of frustration welled up in his chest.

“Not now,” Shiu barked, spinning his chair around, ready to tell whoever it was to get the hell out. But the words died on his tongue the second he saw you.

You.

His wife, standing there with that soft, knowing smile. The one that threatened to disarm him every single time. And before he could say anything—an apology, a question, anything—you closed the distance, your hands cradling his jaw like he was something fragile.

Then, you kissed him.

It wasn’t hurried or fleeting. It wasn’t the type of kiss meant to start anything more. No, this was one of those grounding, soul-deep kisses—the kind that said everything words couldn’t.

Shiu froze. For a heartbeat, his mind couldn’t quite catch up. But then, his eyes slipped shut, and he melted into you.

God, he melted.

The cigarette tumbled from his fingers into the ashtray as his hands came up to hold your waist, pulling you closer like he needed you to keep him tethered to the earth.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead pressed lightly against yours. His eyes opened, and there you were, looking at him like he was something worth saving.

“...I was working,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

“I know,” you replied softly, brushing a thumb along the dark circles under his eyes. “But you looked like you needed a reminder of why you bother.”

He huffed, a sound caught between a laugh and a sigh. His head tilted, and you felt his lips graze your temple. A quiet, almost whispered, “You’re too good to me.”

“Someone has to be.”

The words came out lighter than you intended, but there was no mistaking the sincerity beneath them. You stepped back slightly, fingers still brushing against his tie as you loosened it further.

“You’ve been at this for hours. You’re going to work yourself into an early grave,” you chided, though your tone was gentle.

“Could be worse. Could be Toji burying me,” Shiu muttered darkly, his lips twitching in that way they always did when he tried to hide his amusement.

You rolled your eyes. “If Toji doesn’t kill you, the stress will.” Your hands slid up his chest and rested over his racing heart. “Take a break. Five minutes, even.”

He looked at you like you’d asked him to dismantle the entire operation single-handedly. “I can’t just—”

“You can,” you interrupted. “And you will. Because if you don’t, I’m going to drag you out of this chair myself.”

The silence stretched, but there was no tension in it. Just the steady thrum of your shared breath. Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging like the fight had gone out of him.

“Fine,” he relented, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“Oh, so you can be charmed,” you teased, grinning as he shot you a mock glare.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I know I am.”

Another quiet laugh escaped him—this one real, unguarded. He reached for you again, his hand finding yours, thumb brushing along your knuckles. For the first time that day, the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured. But his tone betrayed him, softer than silk, full of gratitude he didn’t have the words for.

“And you love me anyway,” you replied, leaning in to press one last kiss to his forehead.

Shiu said nothing, but he didn’t need to. The way he pulled you into his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck, spoke volumes. The smell of smoke and the faintest hint of cologne lingered between you as he breathed you in, as if you were the antidote to all the poison in his veins.

And for the first time in hours, Shiu didn’t think about Toji. Or work. Or the chaos waiting for him tomorrow.

For now, there was just you.

The room was cloaked in the kind of silence that only exhaustion could birth, heavy and thick like a shroud.

Papers were strewn across the table—witness statements, diagrams, hastily scrawled notes that didn’t quite connect. The overhead light buzzed faintly, and Hiromi could feel the weight of hours pressing down on his shoulders, the ache of his back bent too long over evidence that refused to yield.

You were pacing.

Barefoot now, shoes abandoned hours ago, socks sliding against the tiles as you moved like a restless pendulum, muttering bits of the puzzle under your breath. He watched you in the moments he dared to lift his gaze from the documents—watched how the fatigue softened your edges but sharpened your focus, a juxtaposition that shouldn’t have made sense but did.

Then, it happened.

You froze mid-step, eyes going wide, lips parting as if you’d just swallowed lightning.

“Wait,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. “Wait, wait, wait—oh my God.”

Hiromi sat up straighter, the air shifting with your energy as you spun on your heel, face alight with something triumphant, manic, and devastatingly beautiful. “We’ve got it.”

“What?” His voice was hoarse, unused for hours, but you didn’t answer. You only crossed the room in three steps, grabbed his face in your hands like he was some divine revelation in human form, and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t even fully conscious—an act born purely of adrenaline and sleeplessness and the electric hum of victory. Your lips pressed to his, fleeting but fierce, a lightning strike that left him stunned in its wake.

Before he could even process it—before he could react—you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, as if you didn’t even realize what you’d done.

“We’ve got it,” you repeated, a grin breaking across your face. “I have to tell them—this’ll break the whole case open—”

And then you were gone, feet pounding against the floor, the door swinging shut behind you with a gust of air that smelled faintly of you.

Hiromi blinked. Once. Twice.

The world slowly resumed its shape around him, but everything felt wrong now, tilted. You’d kissed him.

You’d kissed him.

And then you’d left like it was nothing, like it hadn’t sent a shockwave through every nerve in his body.

For a moment, he just sat there, fingers brushing absently against his lips, stunned into an unfamiliar stillness. Then—

“Wait.”

He shot to his feet, chair scraping harshly against the floor, legs moving before his brain caught up.

“Wait!” His voice echoed in the hallway as he stumbled after you, his usual composure unraveling like thread. “Hey—wait—come back!”

You were already halfway to the supervisor’s office, still riding the high of discovery, when his hand caught your wrist. The sudden pull made you spin, chest colliding with his as you blinked up at him, wide-eyed and confused. “Hiromi, what—”

“You kissed me,” he said, breathless and disbelieving, like the words had been dragged out of him by some unseen force.

“What?”

“You kissed me,” he repeated, voice cracking just slightly, and he was looking at you now like you’d hung the stars but forgotten to tell him they were his. “You—back there—you kissed me.”

For a second, you just stared at him. Then, like a slow dawn, realization crept over your face, turning your expression into something equal parts horror and wonder.

“Oh,” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I—oh.”

“You already said that,” he pointed out, but his voice was softer now, almost teasing, and you couldn’t help the way your lips quirked despite the mortification blooming in your chest.

“I—” You were cut off by his lips on yours, warmer and surer than before, a second chance taken with both hands.

This time, you kissed him back.

And when you broke apart, both of you laughing, breathless, and slightly unsteady on your feet, it felt like the exhaustion had been replaced with something brighter, lighter.

“Case first,” you murmured against his lips, though your hands didn’t quite loosen their grip on his jacket.

“Fine,” he said, smirking. “But I’m not letting you run off this time.”

And you didn’t.

A/N: ikikikik that hiromi's and nanami's are similar but LET MEEEE BEEEEEEEE. i tried okay, an attempt was made or whatever.Again, i'm so sorry to the anon that requested this and i stupidly deleted the ask. at first i wrote the gojo one in "her" pov, but i didn't like that and went back to "you".

Masterlist

:)

[lizziesangel]

can you do another one shot of introverted reader and extroverted qb Rafe and he just follows her around and still crushes on her and then he like asks her out or something you can make this in your own way

finally part two!! ⟢ part one

as the self-defense unit wraps up, you and lana grab your things and head toward the locker rooms. the air between you is lighter now, the drills and awkward encounters behind you—for the moment, at least. lana nudges you with her shoulder, her mischievous grin already in place.

“did you see what happened to jason in the middle of class?” she asks, barely containing her laughter. “i mean, secondhand embarrassment doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

you stifle a laugh, glancing over at her. “what did he think was going to happen? asking mia out in the middle of the drills? who even does that?”

lana throws her hands up dramatically. “exactly! like, dude, we’re learning how to escape a chokehold, and he’s over here trying to escape the friend zone. bad timing, jason. bad. timing.”

you snort, unable to hold back your amusement. “and then mia’s face? she looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.”

“she didn’t even say anything! she just shook her head and walked away!” lana cackles, practically doubling over as she recalls the moment. “poor guy stood there for a solid ten seconds, looking like he’d just been hit by a bus.”

“it was funny,” you admit, “but also kind of sad. like, imagine building up all that courage just to get publicly rejected.”

lana shakes her head, still giggling. “i mean, yeah, i felt bad for him. for, like, half a second. but you have to admit, it was iconic. mia didn’t even blink.”

you laugh, the image replaying in your mind, but then lana’s smirk takes on a different edge. she gives you a sly look, and you immediately know you’re in trouble.

“speaking of moments,” she begins, dragging out the words, “what’s going on with you and rafe cameron?”

your laughter dies in your throat, replaced by a groan. “oh my gosh, lana. nothing is going on.”

“nothing?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “girl, he was staring at you like you were the answer to all of life’s questions. and don’t even try to deny it—i saw it.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “he wasn’t staring. he was just… focused on the drill.”

“focused on you,” she corrects, wagging a finger at you. “i mean, i can’t blame him. you two looked like the cover of some YA romance novel over there, all wrist grabs and lingering eye contact.”

“lana, oh my gosh, stop.” you shove her lightly, your face burning. “it’s not like that.”

“oh, but you wish it was?” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

“no!” you insist, laughing despite yourself. “you’re so annoying.”

lana grins triumphantly, but before she can press further, you narrow your eyes and shift the spotlight. “okay, let’s talk about you and topper, then.”

her smug expression falters. “what about me and topper?” she asks, feigning innocence.

you mimic her earlier teasing tone. “oh, nothing. just that you were blushing a lot while you two were partnered up. and don’t even try to deny it—i saw it.”

“i was not blushing,” she huffs, but her face betrays her, turning pink at the accusation.

“you so were!” you shoot back, laughing. “and don’t think i didn’t notice how he kept leaning in to talk to you, all ‘are you okay? is my grip too tight?’”

“okay, first of all, he was just being polite,” lana retorts, crossing her arms. “second of all, you’re deflecting.”

“am i, though?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow. “because it sounds to me like someone has a little crush.”

lana groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “fine! whatever! he’s cute, okay? but he’s also topper thornton, which means he’s probably, like, ninety percent annoying and ten percent tolerable.”

you smirk. “sounds like someone’s trying to justify their feelings.”

“and it sounds like someone’s avoiding the fact that rafe cameron was basically undressing them with his eyes,” she fires back.

the two of you dissolve into laughter, your playful banter echoing down the hallway. for all the awkwardness of the class, you can’t help but feel grateful for moments like this—light, ridiculous, and completely you.

it’s been a week since the self-defense class, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about rafe cameron since then. not that you’d admit it to lana.

she’d never let you hear the end of it. right now, though, you’re trying to focus on your spanish class, scribbling notes as señor martinez drones on about verb conjugations. lana is sitting to your left, doodling absentmindedly in her notebook, while rafe is on your right, leaning back in his chair with a bored expression that says he’d rather be anywhere else.

you try not to notice how close he’s sitting. or how his cologne lingers faintly in the air. definitely not noticing.

“señor cameron,” señor martinez suddenly says, breaking through the hum of your thoughts. you glance up to see the older man staring pointedly at rafe, his thick-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose. “por favor, conteste esta pregunta. ¿cómo se dice, ‘i like to play football’ en español?”

rafe blinks, his posture straightening slightly. you can tell from the way his brow furrows that he has no idea what the answer is. he shifts in his seat, his gaze darting toward you briefly before landing back on the teacher.

“uh…” he starts, clearly stalling. “yo… gusta… uh…”

you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to laugh at his obvious struggle. he looks genuinely panicked now, scratching the back of his neck like it’ll somehow help him come up with the right words.

without thinking, you lean slightly toward him and scribble on the edge of your notebook: me gusta jugar al fútbol.

sliding the notebook closer to him with your left hand, you tap the words lightly with your pen before sitting back, acting like nothing happened. rafe’s eyes dart to the paper, and then to you. he catches on quickly, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile.

“me gusta jugar al fútbol,” he repeats, his pronunciation a little off but passable. he looks up at señor martinez, who nods approvingly.

“muy bien, señor cameron,” the teacher says before moving on to the next victim in his line of questioning.

rafe exhales quietly, and you feel his shoulder brush yours as he leans closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear. “thanks. i owe you one.”

you shrug, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “you’ll survive.”

“yeah, because of you,” he says, his tone teasing but sincere. you can feel his gaze lingering on you, and your cheeks warm involuntarily.

lana, who has been unusually quiet, suddenly clears her throat dramatically. “i see you two are getting along nicely,” she whispers, her voice dripping with mock innocence.

you nudge her under the desk with your foot, shooting her a warning look. “focus, lana.”

“oh, i am,” she replies with a grin, glancing pointedly between you and rafe.

you and lana walk out of spanish class, your bags slung over your shoulders as you weave through the bustling hallway. the faint smell of old textbooks and cleaning supplies lingers in the air, blending with the hum of chatter from other students.

“so,” lana says, adjusting the strap of her bag and glancing at you, “are we pretending that señor martinez’s lecture didn’t put the entire class to sleep?”

you snort. “you mean only you? i saw you zoning out halfway through.”

“hey, i was conserving my energy,” she defends, holding up her hands. “that conjugation nonsense was not giving what it needed to give.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head as the two of you make your way toward your lockers. the conversation shifts to weekend plans, lana animatedly describing some pop-up event she wants to drag you to, when someone passes by on your right.

it’s him.

“hey,” he says, his voice breaking through your conversation like a gentle ripple. he’s walking just slow enough to catch your attention without completely stopping. “thanks for earlier. you saved me with that spanish sentence.”

he flashes you a smile—not the usual cocky smirk you’ve seen him give other people, but something softer, genuine. the kind that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“oh, uh, no problem,” you manage to say, your voice steady despite the warmth creeping up your neck.

he gives a small nod, the corners of his mouth tugging upward just a little more, and then continues walking past you, blending into the crowd.

lana waits until he’s out of earshot before turning to you, her eyebrows raised and her grin positively devious. “okay. what was that?”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “he was just saying thank you.”

“mmm, sure,” she says, drawing out the words. “because guys like rafe cameron totally go out of their way to say thank you for help in class.”

“it’s called being polite,” you counter, though your voice wavers slightly, betraying your attempt at indifference.

“polite?” lana mimics, her voice dripping with mockery. “girl, he smiled at you like you just solved all his problems. that was not polite; that was something else.”

you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re ridiculous.”

“am i?” she teases, bumping her shoulder into yours. “or am i just really good at spotting crush vibes when i see them?”

you groan, quickening your pace to escape her relentless teasing, but the fluttery feeling in your chest doesn’t go away.

a few days rolls by, and it’s time for PE again. the memory of last week’s self-defense unit still lingers in your mind, though you’ve done your best to push it aside. unfortunately, lana hasn’t let you live it down.

“back to the battlefield,” she says dramatically as you walk into the gym together, her water bottle swinging in her hand. “do you think coach davis will make us pair up the same way as last time?”

you glance at her, trying to gauge whether she’s genuinely curious or just looking for an opportunity to tease you again. “i don’t know,” you reply, keeping your tone casual. “probably. he seems like a ‘stick to the plan’ kind of guy.”

lana smirks, nudging you lightly. “good news for you, then.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, feigning innocence as you open your water bottle and take a sip.

“oh, nothing,” she replies with a sly grin. “just that a certain quarterback might be looking forward to this more than you think.”

“ooh, look,” lana adds in a whisper, nudging you with her elbow as you make your way toward your spot. “there’s your favorite partner.”

you glance over instinctively and spot rafe standing with the rest of the football team. he’s tossing a basketball between his hands, chatting with topper and a couple of others, looking relaxed and completely at ease.

you try not to linger too long, but as if sensing your gaze, he looks up and meets your eyes. his lips curve into a small, knowing smile, and you quickly look away, your heart doing an unintentional somersault.

“stop it,” you mutter to lana, who’s practically vibrating with excitement at your reaction.

“i’m not even doing anything,” she says innocently, though the smug look on her face says otherwise.

you roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, coach davis claps his hands together, gathering the class’s attention.

“alright, folks!” he booms. “we’re picking up where we left off last week. same pairs, same drills, new moves.”

lana shoots you a triumphant look, barely able to contain her laugh. “told you.”

“shut up,” you mutter under your breath, your cheeks already warming as you glance toward the corner of the gym. sure enough, there’s rafe, standing with the other football players, tossing a basketball between his hands and looking entirely unbothered by the world around him.

when your name is called, followed by rafe’s, you take a deep breath and start walking toward him, feeling Lana’s smug gaze on your back the entire way.

“guess it’s us again,” he says, stopping in front of you. his tone is casual, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“lucky me,” you reply, trying to sound neutral as you set your water bottle on the floor, though your voice comes out a little more sarcastic than you intended.

he chuckles, his hands resting lightly on his hips. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“ready for round two?” he asks, his tone teasing but warm. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe amusement, maybe anticipation—but you don’t dwell on it for long.

“i’m ready if you are,” you reply, trying to match his confidence.

this week’s drills involve more complex moves—blocking, evading, and redirecting. rafe listens to coach davis’s explanation but keeps sneaking glances at you, like he’s more interested in your reaction than the actual instructions. you catch him once, and he quickly looks away, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

when it’s time to practice, rafe takes his position in front of you, his hands raised slightly. “alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

you narrow your eyes playfully. “don’t go easy on me.”

his grin widens. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

the first few attempts are clumsy, just like last week, but this time, there’s an unspoken ease between you. the tension feels lighter, replaced by a strange sort of rhythm. when you stumble on one of the blocks, rafe catches your arm instinctively, steadying you without a second thought.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

“yeah,” you reply quickly, brushing it off. “just lost my balance.”

“good thing i’m here, then,” he says, his grin returning. he’s teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

as the drill continues, you notice how his confidence contrasts with the careful way he moves around you, never pushing too hard, always adjusting to your pace. it’s almost… considerate. by the end of the session, you’re both slightly out of breath, your cheeks flushed—not just from the exercise.

rafe is surprisingly focused, following coach’s instructions and helping you figure out the movements without making it awkward—well, mostly. he adjusts his stance a couple of times, his hands hovering near your arms to guide you, but he never oversteps, which you appreciate.

“alright, now try shifting your weight forward,” he says, watching as you attempt to push him off balance.

you give it your best shot, planting your feet and leaning into the motion, but he barely moves, his footing solid.

“okay, not bad,” he says, grinning. “but maybe try using a little more…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word.

“force?” you supply, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, that.” he nods, his grin widening. “don’t be afraid to go for it.”

you try again, this time putting more effort into the movement. to your surprise, he actually stumbles back a step, his expression shifting to mock surprise.

“whoa—okay,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “you’ve got some hidden strength there.”

you laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “yeah, sure. i’m terrifying.”

“hey, i’m just saying,” he replies, his tone teasing. “remind me not to mess with you.”

lana, paired with topper a few feet away, catches the exchange and immediately starts making faces at you behind rafe’s back. you shoot her a glare, mouthing stop while trying not to laugh.

“what’s so funny?” rafe asks, glancing between you and lana.

“nothing,” you say quickly, straightening up and avoiding his gaze.

laa smirks, her voice carrying just enough for you to hear. “oh, it’s definitely something.”

you groan inwardly, already dreading whatever teasing lana has planned for later. for now, though, you focus on the drill, pretending not to notice the way rafe’s smile lingers just a little

the end of class rolls around, and as everyone starts clearing up and heading toward the locker rooms, rafe lingers near you, casually adjusting the strap of his gym bag. lana notices, of course, and shoots you a knowing look before wandering off toward the door with topper trailing behind her.

you sling your water bottle over your shoulder, about to follow, when rafe steps a little closer. “hey,” he says, his tone casual but with just a hint of hesitation.

“hi,” you reply, glancing up at him curiously.

“so, uh…” he rubs the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping for just a moment. “are you going to the game tonight?”

you blink, caught a little off guard. “the football game?”

“yeah,” he gives a short laugh, as if there’s any other game he could be talking about. “i mean, it’s kind of a big one. with a rival school and all that.”

you chew on your lip, considering. “ah, i don’t know. i haven’t really thought about it.”

“oh, come on,” he says, a teasing edge creeping into his tone. “i’m playing tonight.”

“i know,” you say with a faint laugh. “you’re the captain.”

there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe amusement, maybe something else entirely. “right. so… you’ll come?”

before you can answer, lana reappears, practically materializing out of thin air. “we’ll be there!” she announces brightly, cutting off whatever excuse you were about to come up with.

your head snaps toward her, eyes wide. “we will?”

“yeah,” lana says, completely unbothered by your subtle glare. “wouldn’t miss it.”

rafe’s grin widens, his gaze flickering between you and lana. “great. see you tonight, then.”

just as you’re about to protest—or at least question why lana is suddenly speaking for you—topper walks by, overhearing the last bit of the conversation. he stops, turning to lana with a raised eyebrow.

“you’re going to the game?” he asks, his tone curious but laced with something else, something like amusement.

lana tilts her head at him, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “why? you don’t want me there?”

topper stares at her for a second, then shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “no, i didn’t say that.”

“good,” lana replies breezily, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “because we’ll be there.”

topper blinks, momentarily at a loss for words, before recovering with a lopsided grin. “cool. yeah. that’s… cool.”

you glance between them, unsure whether to roll your eyes or laugh. meanwhile, rafe is still standing next to you, watching the whole exchange unfold with an amused look on his face.

“see you tonight,” rafe says again, this time directing it more toward you. his voice is quieter, as if it’s just for you, and there’s something in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

“yeah,” you manage, your voice a little softer than you intended. “see you.”

rafe’s grin widens, his eyes lighting up in a way that makes your chest tighten. “great. see you then.”

as he walks away with topper, lana nudges you with her elbow, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“you’re welcome,” she says, grinning.

“oh my gosh, did you see the way he was looking at you? you’re so going to that game.”

“lana,” you groan, but she’s already steering you toward the door, topper trailing behind like a lost puppy.

“oh, and topper?” lana calls over her shoulder. “you’d better actually play well tonight if i’m showing up.”

topper laughs, running a hand through his hair. “don’t worry, i’ll make it worth your while.”

“you’re welcome, by the way,” she says, grinning.

“for what?” you ask, even though you already know where this is going.

“getting us prime seats to watch your boy play tonight,” she teases.

you groan, shaking your head. “he’s not my—”

“oh, save it,” she interrupts, laughing. “i’m just saying, this is gonna be very entertaining.”

you shoot lana a look, but she just grins, completely unfazed. “you realize your boy is going to be there as well.”

“ahhh, this is going to be so much fun,” she says, and for some reason, you can’t help but smile too.

you and lana are in her room, sorting through her closet to find something suitable for the football game. clothes are strewn across her bed, some tossed on the floor, and lana is holding up a navy sweater against herself in the mirror.

“what about this? casual but cute, right?” she asks, turning to you.

“it’s cute,” you say, trying not to laugh at the chaos around you. “but are we really dressing up for a football game?”

lana shoots you a look. “first of all, yes. second of all, you need to look extra cute. for a special reason.”

lana holds up a cropped sweater, frowning. “do i go with this? or the green one with the little buttons?”

“the green one,” you say without hesitation. “it makes your eyes pop.”

she nods thoughtfully, tossing the sweater onto a growing pile of rejected options. “okay, green it is. what about you? you can’t just show up in your usual jeans and hoodie. this is a game. there’s a whole vibe.”

before you can respond, lana’s younger sister amalia bursts into the room, a bundle of energy as always. she’s clutching a bowl of popcorn, her hair in a loose braid. at fifteen, she has that untamed curiosity that makes her impossible to ignore.

“what’s going on in here?” amalia asks, plopping down on the floor and grabbing one of lana’s discarded sneakers.

“getting ready for the game,” lana says, tossing the sweater onto the bed and grabbing a scarf.

amalia plops onto the corner of the bed, narrowly avoiding a pile of jeans. “so, like… are you going because you actually care about football, like, someone specific?”

“amalia!” you gasp, laughing, while lana groans.

“obviously, we’re going for the game,” lana says, dragging out the last word like it’s painfully obvious.

“sure you are,” amalia says, smirking. she looks at you. “so, which is it? topper or rafe?”

both lana and you freeze mid-motion, slowly turning to look at her. “what?” you say in unison, your voices dripping with confusion and maybe a hint of panic.

“oh my god, it is true.” amalia’s eyes widen, her tone full of mock scandal. “i mean, i heard you talking on the phone,” she says nonchalantly, taking a bite of her granola bar.

lana’s face contorts into a mix of horror and disbelief. “you were eavesdropping?”

“no!” amalia says defensively, though her grin betrays her. “i just walked past your room, and i heard you say something about rafe. or was it topper? honestly, you were talking so fast, i couldn’t tell.”

“besides, we have thin walls. i can hear every conversation you have.”

you bury your face in your hands while lana groans loudly, tossing a sweatshirt at the younger sister. “you’re the absolute worst, you know that?”

she giggles, dodging the sweatshirt. “what? i’m just curious! so, which one is it? rafe or topper?”

“neither,” you say quickly, trying to sound as calm as possible. “we’re just going because… we have nothing better to do.”

amalia doesn’t look convinced, her eyes darting between the two of you like she’s trying to crack a code. “uh-huh. sure.”

you bury your face in your hands. “can we not do this right now?”

“oh, come on,” she says, grinning. “i have to live vicariously through you guys. my life is so boring.”

her older sister snickers. “you’re fifteen, amalia. you’re supposed to have a boring life.”

amalia rolls her eyes. “whatever. you’re lucky mom and dad aren’t here, or they’d totally make me go with you guys.”

lana points to the door, her tone firm. “okay, get out. now. before i tell mom you stole her granola bars again.”

amalia gasps dramatically, clutching the half-eaten bar to her chest. “you wouldn’t.”

with a huff, amalia stands and heads for the door, but not before throwing one last grin over her shoulder. “fine, but if you don’t tell me what happens tonight, i’m stealing your makeup.”

“go away, amalia!” lana yells, and the door slams shut behind her.

“you’re such a snitch,” could be heard from the other side of the door.

as the silence settles, you and lana exchange a look, and then burst into laughter.

“she’s impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

lana smirks, reaching for her eyeliner. “she’s also not wrong about you and rafe, though.”

you grab a pillow and throw it at her. “shut up!”

the stadium lights flood the field as you and lana make your way to the bleachers. the energy in the air is palpable, the crowd buzzing with excitement as the game is set to begin. the school colors are everywhere—navy and red banners, painted faces, and a sea of matching shirts.

lana’s decked out in navy, her outfit effortlessly stylish, while you’re in red, wearing your school hoodie with pride. she loops her arm through yours as you weave through the crowd.

“this is so chaotic,” lana says, laughing as you dodge a group of cheerleaders running toward the sidelines.

“you’re the one who wanted to come early,” you tease.

“early means we get good seats,” she replies, tugging you along.

as you near the edge of the bleachers, a familiar figure catches your eye. rafe is standing by the fence near the field, already in his uniform, looking every bit the golden boy quarterback he is. his helmet is tucked under one arm, and he’s talking to a teammate, but the moment he spots you, his face lights up.

he steps away, jogging over. “hey!”

“hi,” you reply, a little breathless from the crowd.

“i, uh, saved you and lana some seats,” he says, gesturing toward a spot near the middle of the bleachers, right in prime view of the field.

“oh, thanks!” you say, genuinely surprised and a little touched.

“of course,” he says casually, but there’s a flicker of something in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

meanwhile, lana has already found her focus—topper is lingering a few steps away, looking effortlessly cool in his jersey. she doesn’t waste any time sidling up to him, her voice light and playful as she says, “topper, is this your game face, or do you always look this serious?”

topper smirks, tilting his head at her. “you tell me. think it’s intimidating enough?”

“intimidating? not quite,” she teases, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

you glance at her, rolling your eyes slightly but smiling. she’s clearly in her element, and for a moment, you’re distracted by their banter.

“hey,” rafe says, drawing your attention back to him.

you look up at him, his expression softer now. “yeah?”

“so, i was thinking…” he starts, trailing off for just a second before giving you a teasing look.

you arch an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “really? you were thinking?”

his grin deepens, and he nudges your arm lightly with his elbow. “yeah, shut up. i was thinking…” he pauses again, this time looking a little nervous, though he hides it well. “if i win this game tonight, would you… wanna go out with me?”

you blink, caught completely off guard. his words hang in the air for a moment, and you can’t help the way your lips curve into a smile.

“seriously?” you ask, your voice soft but full of amusement.

“dead serious,” he replies, his eyes locked on yours, a mix of confidence and vulnerability in his expression.

your smile widens, warmth blooming in your chest. “well… i guess i’ll have to cheer extra loud, then.”

his grin stretches across his face, brighter than you’ve ever seen it. “i’ll hold you to that.”

before you can say anything else, lana suddenly appears at your side, her cheeks slightly pink from talking to topper. “come on, we need to grab those seats before someone else does.”

rafe nods, stepping back but keeping his eyes on you. “i’ll see you after the game?”

you nod, your heart still racing. “good luck, captain.”

“thanks,” he says, his voice warm, before jogging back toward his team.

as you and lana make your way to the bleachers, she nudges you with her elbow, her grin mischievous. “sooo… what was that about?”

you shrug, trying to play it cool, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

“uh-huh,” she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “you’re so coming to every game from now on.”

you laugh, feeling a little giddy. maybe you just might.

the game has been intense, and the crowd is on edge. the scoreboard has been a back-and-forth battle, but now, as the clock winds down, rafe's team is trailing by just a few points. the stands are buzzing with nervous energy as the players huddle on the field.

you’re perched on the edge of your seat, your eyes glued to rafe, who is looking more focused than ever. he’s been carrying the weight of the game ever since their second best star player was taken out with an injury. it’s clear that he’s frustrated, his jaw clenched as he scans the field, but there’s something else in his eyes: determination.

topper stands beside him, clearly trying to keep up with the intensity, but it’s hard not to notice that rafe’s doing most of the work. he’s calling the plays, directing the team, and every move he makes looks calculated—almost like he’s pushing his limits, but you can see in the way he carries himself that he’s not going to give up.

the clock is ticking down, seconds slipping away like sand in an hourglass.

“come on, come on!” lana mutters beside you, her voice almost lost in the roar of the crowd. you glance at her, her eyes fixed on rafe and topper, and then at the field. the tension is so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.

rafe takes the ball, his eyes scanning for an opening. he’s got no choice now; it’s all on him. he fakes a pass to topper, sending the defenders rushing toward him, then in one swift motion, he dodges a tackle and charges down the field. the crowd rises to its feet, the energy growing with every step rafe takes.

you can’t help but hold your breath as you watch him break through the last line of defense, topper sprinting beside him, staying just close enough to act as backup. rafe’s legs move like they’re made of steel, his eyes locked on the end zone.

with seconds left on the clock, he passes the ball to topper, who’s just a few yards from the end zone. topper catches it and pivots, leaping into the air just as a defender tries to block him. time seems to slow as the ball arcs through the air and lands perfectly in topper’s hands. the crowd erupts as he crosses the goal line, securing the game-winning touchdown.

you can barely hear yourself think over the deafening roar of the crowd. you jump up with lana, both of you screaming and clapping in excitement. rafe’s face lights up as the team floods onto the field to congratulate topper, but he’s still scanning the crowd for someone.

you catch his eye, and for a split second, everything else fades away. his grin is wide, the exhaustion and tension melting off his face, replaced by sheer triumph.

“looks like you’ll be getting that date after all,” lana says, her voice full of teasing as she nudges you, but you barely hear her. all you can focus on is rafe’s smile, the way he’s looking at you from across the field.

you can feel your heart skip a beat as the final whistle blows. the game is over, and against all odds, rafe’s team pulled through.

lana cheers next to you, but you’re still staring at rafe, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. he winks at you, the energy of the win still buzzing in his movements.

it’s official: rafe cameron just won the game—and, if you’re being honest, you think he just might’ve won a little bit of your heart too, especially when he was looking right at you after winning the game.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @zazidot ⟢ @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ⟢ @lunaleah ⟢ @maybanksangel ⟢ @wtfdudesblog. ⟢ @niktwazny303. ⟢ @outerbanksloverp4l ⟢ @slut4you ⟢ @maybanksgirl69 ⟢ @hstbsl06 ⟢ @percysley

[reignpage]

how do you think jjk men are with embarrassing moments during sex? like if something embarrassing that happens to either them or their partner, do they play it off, try to inject humor, swear off sex to be a monk?

i read a similar post by an author advocating for well, not just more realistic depictions of sex in fics, but to include some of the awkwardness present in them too?? their post included geto’s hair getting stuck in butt cracks, Toji pulling a muscle, Nanami losing his boner, and Choso full on shitting himself accidentally to help with reader’s embarrassment over queefing 😭😭😭

like yes it’s funny and bonkers but cuz sex isn’t always the passionate sexy fuckfest we see in fics/movies, people don’t always cum at the same time, yes you DO need lube AND prep, foreplay DOES matter, dryness or losing an erection midway no matter how horny you are is common yano?? 😤😤

lowkey wanted to go anon lest you call me perpetually horny 😭 but ignore me if my shit’s getting old

own your shit bae, no pun intended. ur horniness could never get old. I like these questions cause they're like brain teasers. okay okay lemme have a go

Gojo:

says a cringy line

I can totally see him trying something new that he thinks would be super sexy like

"oh yeah? you like that? you're such a dirty whore, aren't you? come on, cum and show me who you're daddy is."

reader will pause and stare at him like, did you hear yourself?

gojo will have a moment of realisation and give himself the ick. even he has limits.

he collapses on top of reader and begs her to forget that, will be a blushing mess.

he'll think about it once in a while and cringe

but in the moment, he'd throw a tantrum if you can't stop laughing and making fun of him.

"it wasn't that bad! you're being mean, seriously. I just got caught up, okay? stop laughinggggg"

gets very pouty, protests, and you have to seduce him back, really compliment the hell out of him

then he'll force you on top and make you take the lead so he doesn't give himself another opportunity to be embarassing

Geto:

trying to switch positions in a tight space and then you accidentally rest your elbow on his long hair and he almost rips outs chunks

probably gets irritated because you've damaged his brilliant hair

takes a breather and then starts back up again

punishes you during sex

will crack a smile if you do

"yeah, alright, laugh it up. but if I develop a bald spot, neither of us will be laughing."

will make sure that never happens again

might even pull your hair during sex to show you how it feels (not too hard obvi)

Choso:

might get too subby lol

like "am I a good boy mommy? am I doing good? I don't want my mommy to be mad at me" and he's in tears

idk how to write mommy kinks lol

and you both have a moment of clarity where it's like, damnnn you okay? didn't know you had trauma like that

he'll get very shy and embarrassed

might even start crying, trying to run away

you'll have to reassure him it's fine and then just go slowly and gently, having more loveydovey sex

late at night, he'll ask you if you really didn't mind because he doesn't want you to be freaked out or think he's not a man

but I imagine it'd become a kink you indulge him once in a while

just gotta teach him it's okay, just don't spring it on someone mid act lol

Toji:

trying a really acrobatic fucking position, whether in the living room or in the shower, gets his footing wrong and slips, smacks his head against the wall, takes you down with him

he knocks himself out

you have to wrangle his 200 pound or something body in to a safe lying position and wait for him to come to

when he does and he remembers what happens

bro is in denial

no he didn't slip

no he didn't overestimate himself

no it didn't hurt

no he's not embarrassed stop asking him

gets very grumpy and will storm off, grumbling under his breath

comes back calmer

neither of you mention it but it hangs in the air as you both prepare dinner together

once sat across each other, you make an eye contact and you burst out laughing

he rolls his eyes but he's got a smile on his lips

"yeah yeah, what fucking ever. you try lifting your heavy ass up whilst you're balls deep"

next time tho, he gets you back by forcing you to endure vanilla sex, going very slow and shallow and overly sweet

makes you beg for him to fuck you normally

he'll consider it

Nanami:

drunk sex, becomes wayyyy too emotional

"sweetheart, you're the most beautiful thing in the entire world, I love you so much do you know that? I honestly -hiccup!- c-can't live without you, oh goodness, please don't make me live without you!"

he's still inside, he's not even thrusting anymore, he's just crying into your neck like a baby

you're brushing his hair, shushing him, orgasms forgotten

might vomit on you a little

wakes up with a killer hangover and a night full of memories he wishes he could erase

"oh god, honey. I'm so terribly sorry. I can't believe I did something so ridiculous. no I know loving you openly isn't ridiculous, but I wouldn't be wrong to say crying, leaving you unsatisfied, forcing you to care for a man child, and cherry on top, vomitting on you is just a little ridiculous."

has to go make it up to himself for being a terrible husband

will spoil you for the rest of the week

or anytime he remembers

might actually drink less because of it lol

Sukuna:

he'd kill you if he did something embarrassing

pray he never does

[4-the-l0ve-0f-art]

Reverse isekai... Caleb... Cat...

Caleb loved you more than anything in this world. 

Or at least, that's what you would've liked to imagine if he was real. But he isn't. And you're not in a pixelated little world called Linkon City and none of your hopes and dreams about having a happily ever after with your military husband and childhood best friend were coming true. 

You stared at the fanfic left open on the phone screen, wishing to see your husband in your dreams to ease the ache of loving someone you could never have while in your loneliest moments. 

If only he could be real. If only he could become real from Astra knows what power and fall in love all over again. With you this time instead of the MC who seemed to resemble anything but you. If only. Too much to ask for, yes, you know. 

No, he wasn't real, and no, he wasn't there to fall in love with you as you did with him. And you had your own life to live and work to do and tough times to get through on your own tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. 

So, leaving you no other choice, you drifted off to sleep as the delusion shattering ache in your heart seeped in.

-

It was raining. You opened up your umbrella next to the entrance of your workplace, greeting your coworkers goodbye. You were tired. Your brain was fried from working since morning and you felt like the walking dead. 

The thoughts of cooking something up for dinner made you feel like flopping down on the sidewalk you were walking on and passing out. You had the free will to do that, of course, but the rain pitter pattering along with your dragged steps only reminded you of all the cleaning you would have to do after practicing your so-called free will. 

The street lights turned on and you continued onward, just a block away from your home. 

As you walked by an alleyway, your heart almost jumped out of your chest at the sound of metal clashing onto the ground. You froze, holding your breath as you turned around. 

You waited. 

One beat. Two beats. 

Nothing. 

And then, there it was again, the sound of something thuding around. 

Without thinking, you made your way towards the source of the sound, your heart bearing in your ears. A dumpster came into view. 

Something, or someone, seemed to be struggling inside. You called out. 

“Hello..? Is anyone in there..?” Your voice trembled. 

No reply.

You slowly got close to the dumpster and opened the cover with shaking hands. 

Widened blue-pink eyes with a pair of black ears and tail stared up at you through the piles of garbage. 

“What the fuck?”

-

The cat jumped out of your hold as soon as you entered your home, shaking off water from its fur and scampering away from you as fast as it could while you were struggling to put down the wet umbrella. 

“Okay, rude? I bring you home with me to avoid the guilty conscience that would follow tomorrow if I found you dead from the cold somewhere and you pay me off by drenching my floorboards!”

You let out a frustrated sigh. 

He silently watched you from a corner of the room as you made your way to the kitchen island to wash off your hands. 

“Make yourself at home, I guess..” You mumbled, more to yourself than to him. 

I have a cat in my apartment. What now? 

-

First and foremost, it was bathtime. You were NOT about to let a stinky ass wet fur ball run around your home. 

You tried to pick him up again but he bolted around the living room, paw pads making skittering noises in the process.

After about 10 minutes of running around, you gave up, standing defeated. You called out to him as a last resort. 

“I just want to give you a bath. Please.”

“Mreow!” He protested, sitting on top of the kitchen island. 

“Fine. Whatever. Live with the stink all you want. I'm tired and you're taking up my gaming time.” You rolled your eyes. 

Maybe leaving him alone for a while will ease him a little.. You hoped. 

And so, you turned around and sat down on the couch with the TV remote in hand, ready to open YouTube and rewatch the same goddamn trailer for the 100th time. 

[Love and Deepspace | Caleb's Trailer]

-

He didn't know how he ended up here. One moment he was feeling immense, needle pricking pain across his entire body, the next he was in a dumpster. With paws instead of hands. And the world seemed thrice as large and intimidating. 

Well, At least I have shelter from the rain for now.. Though I feel like a wet rat. 

He watched the girl settle down on the couch. 

I wonder how long I can stay here. I need to figure things out..

Then, he heard something that caught his eye. 

“What, you don't recognize me?”

He stared at the video playing on the TV screen. 

“Did you honestly think I would always be the kind hearted boy from your childhood?”

His ears perked up, all pointy, and his eyes widened. 

That's me. 

He watched as the figure on the screen bit an apple as lightning flashed in the background. 

That. Is. Me. On the TV. 

A/N: Interest check? Very self indulgent... Kinda, sorta, really wanna turn this into a one-shot fic maybe... Haha.. Ha.. But I'll have to play through all the content released in the past few months.. 😭

Wrote this half asleep someone bonk me to sleep please

[softness-and-shattering]

No but do imagine it a second. Cause hes still innocent till proven guilty.

And Im just a layperson over here but I dont think it was him. The original photo, the guy has very ruddy skin and Mangione is very olive. Their eyebrows are different. I got the impression that under the jacket the shooter has a fairly wide build, in the shoulders, Mangione is more average.

They just found a photo of Mangione in a similar-ish jacket at a similar location, found that he'd been staying under a false name and decided he was as good a candidate as any to pin it on. Why were the cops utterly clueless for multiple days and then suddenly all the evidence had pointed to Mangione all along?

And why would the shooter expertly leave the scene, only trace left behind was a bag with monopoly money and hes gone in the wind, only to be chilling at a mcdonalds with a shitty manifesto in his pocket that says "I cant explain it well, do the reading"? Thats not a coherent manifesto. Thats not the actions of someone willing to go down with the crime to have his message heard. Such a person wouldve waited at the crime scene, would have had a strong coherent message not "do the reading". They did leave a coherent message, they left deny defend depose and the monopoly money, and theyre definitely in another country by now.

Mangione said some of the 'evidence' had been planted. He said 'this is an insult to the intelligence of the american public'.

Abd more than anything else, regardless of his actual guilt, he is legally innocent until declared guilty by court following a fair trial. Until such a time, stop doing the cops and the establishment's job for them. Change your mind in which you have decided that he's guilty. Until AND UNLESS he is declared guilty in court, he IS just some Italian guy youre all cyberstalking having the worst time of his life. Thats probably confronting to realise. Its ok. You can change your beliefs and behaviour moving forward, you dont have to double down, youre not ruined forever for being caught up in a very powerful moment.

But Mangione IS innocent. If he is still legally innocent by the end of the year (how long do these things take?), thats another matter and we'll have to see.

Legally, he's innocent. Personally as not-an-expert I think in reality he's also innocent, the cops just *really* needed a scapegoat. Please try afford him some privacy.

i don’t have anything else to add

[theorphicangel]

maybe I’m thinking about the moment sukuna sits yuji down and finally tells him the truth about him and reader

( full fic before this is here but not needed to read this drabble!!)

sukuna finally sits yuji down, it’s only the two of them in the living room with sukuna’s twin brother, Jin, away at work.

yuji was busy playing with his fire truck in front of the couch until he hears his uncle to come sit next to him.

'hey yuj' come here for a sec'

the little one comes by, his toy fire truck that sukuna had gotten him for christmas still in hand. his eyes are wide and curious, giving his uncle his full attention. just at this sight, sukuna feels his stomach drop.

how the fuck was he supposed to break it to a six year old that you won't be around anymore? yuji practically worshipped you, from the first time that he introduced the two of you, yuji got obsessed. he followed you around and bombarded you with questions, asking every little thing about you. he gave you his shitty drawings and you kept them, putting them on your fridge. you'd make time to sit and play with him, diving into yuji's imaginative world a whole lot better than sukuna ever did.

you were patient and caring around him which sukuna appreciated a lot, it made yuji look up to you and treasure you greatly.

but now...well it's not the same. you haven't come by in weeks and yuji's began to question your disappearance.

'well...' sukuna hesitated, his tongue suddenly caught in his throat. what were the right words? how should he phrase this correctly so that his nephew doesn't end up in complete tears?

'yuji, you know-'

yuji cuts him off, stating your name.

sukuna lets out a dry cough, 'yes...about her' he can't bring himself to say your name. '...well we broke up. a couple weeks ago.'

sukuna lets his words digest. yuji looks down at his lap, fiddling with his truck, trying to comprehend. 'broke up?'

'yeah,' sukuna sighs, 'we're not seeing each other anymore.'

silence forms in the living room excluding the clock on the wall suddenly loud in its tick-tick-tick-tick.

'so...she won't come over anymore?'

'no, she won't'

'oh, okay.' there's clear sadness in the six year old's voice, immediately disappointed and now sukuna understands what his brother meant when he said that it would hurt yuji more than it would hurt him.

sukuna throws a hand at reassurance. 'it's okay bud because you still have me... and-and we'll do fun things together alright?'

yuji nods before speaking again, reflecting a little.

'but aren't you sad?'

sukuna wasn't prepared for that question. he struggles to come up with a quick answer, hesitating. 'yeah...i am.'

'i don't want you to be sad 'kuna' yuji mumbles, kicking his feet.

'it's okay yuji, i'm-'

sukuna's words are cut off by yuji coming in for a hug. his toy is discarded with yuji now focused on the task of wrapping his tiny arms around sukuna's large frame. sukuna shifts yuji onto his lap and returns the hug.

sukuna barely hugs his nephew, only in circumstances where he knows he won't see yuji for a long time.

'i hope you feel better soon.' yuji mumbles, his voice muffled. sukuna says nothing more as suddenly his throat is caught and words fail to escape from his lips. if it didn't hit him before then it sure does hit him now.

he hopes yuji doesn't notice his eyes getting blurry.

[lavenderprose]

Imagine you're Johanna Hezenkoss and your one goal in life is to Be Right All The Time and you've got this sidekick named Emmrich. He can do the whole corpse whispering thing and he's an objectively pretty skilled necromancer but, of course, YOU are Johanna Hezenkoss. And you decide that you like Emmrich enough to drag him along with you to glory. So you spend a few decades doing that. Only Emmrich is six and a half feet of saccharine poetry and fanatical devotion to the core tenants of the Mourn Watch and YOU, Johanna Hezenkoss, are just counting the moments until you can go Beast Mode in this bitch and show everyone what TRUE NECROMANTIC POWER means. So Emmrich weighs you down a bit but you're a little obsessed with him only because he's like. Real? That's a real dude? Saying that shit? Wild. Totally insane. He's like an annoying chattering dog who keeps all your secrets and makes the biggest saddest eyes at you when you say stuff like, "The world could be exactly what we want it to be. Aren't you MAD. Aren't you ANGRY at what they've taken from you. Don't you want to MAKE THEM SUFFER LIKE YOU'VE SUFFERED--"

Yeah. Whatever.

And then Emmrich betrays you because you're scaring him. SCARING him? After everything you've done for him? You were going to reinvent the world--you were going to put him at the top of it all so NOBODY could step on either of you ever again and now he's all, Oh Johanna, you're scaring me, this isn't what we believe in, you're letting your fear control you, blah blah BLAH he never shuts UP

Fear? FEAR, Volkarin? How fucking rich.

Then some stuff happens. Half lich 125 foot skeleton someone named Elgar'nan, maybe a God, who cares. You get so close--SO CLOSE--and then fucking Emmrich rolls in and this time he takes it ALL. Your power and your mortal life and your last remaining shreds of fucking credibility in this fucking world. And then he doesn't even have the basic fucking decency to say I Told You So. He keeps you on his desk like a tchochke and listens to you scream and spit and even THEN he doesn't do anything.

All the while he has his own sidekick now. Some vapid little thing always batting their eyelashes and paying Volkarin the kind of lip service that always distracted him, made his eyes go soft and his chin quiver. He's still such a weak man. You tell him so. You tell him and tell him and tell him until--

The sidekick disappears. Emmrich's eyes go empty and haunted in a way that makes you wonder what he's done to himself in his heartache and grief.

"Whoever did this to you," you tell him on the worst day, "You can make them pay. You're powerful enough. You defeated me." You being, of course, Johanna Balls of Steel fucking Hezenkoss.

"I just want them back," Emmrich admits. Because he's weak WEAK he's a weak man mewling pitifully in a dark room for his piece of ass while the moon rises red in the fucking sky and a God walks the earth.

"You have the power," you tell him. "When the world takes from you, you take those things back. This is what I've been telling you all these years, Volkarin. For once in your miserable life, LISTEN TO ME."

Finally, finally, Emmrich reacts. He screams. He throws a few books. He kicks his desk. Punches something, probably, because his knuckles start bleeding at some point. You watch it all with barely-contained glee. Anger, yes, fucking finally. You've been waiting your whole goddamn life for this man to realize how fucking ANGRY he is.

"How do I break into the fucking Fade?" He screams. He's not even looking at you. His hair is seven different kinds of fucked. His shirt is unbuttoned to the navel, and he's missing a boot.

"You could start by asking someone who's done it," you say. Emmrich turns, startled for some reason to hear you. Again you say, "Listen to me."

"Oh, Johanna," he sighs. "I've rarely done anything else."

It's not the words 'Thank you' or 'You're right'. It's certainly not lichdom or godhood or a 125 foot tall skeleton. But it's one point for Johanna Hezenkoss.

You'll make up the deficit eventually. Volkarin has a kid, after all.

[prlssprfctn]

I have this silly (crack) headcanon that after the Lazarus Pit Jason, technically, doesn't need to breathe as much as others/his heart can stop on random moments, and he functionates just fine through that. And I keep imagining crack scenes, when because of that, he can run/train non-stop, which is why he keeps winning his brothers in some stupid running marathons.

Dick and Tim, coughing out their lunges after running non-stop for 5 hours: We d-didn't know you had such a great speed. How did you do that?

Jason, with his breathing being completely still: Aw-w, thanks, I—

Jason, remembering that if he tells the true reason, then they definitely will send him to run tests in the Batcave: How did I do that? I am faster than you. That's how I did that.

[gurugirl]

guru, i have a requests bc I need something ✨fluffy✨ as im healing from closing my fingers in my front door!!

could you write any harry au finding out that the reader is in paramore and wrote the only exception for him?

Oh my gosh your fingers! Ahh I hope you didn’t break anything! 😬

Feel better soon hon ❤️‍🩹 Enjoy! (also I hope this is what you wanted )

A/N: I didn't mention Paramore specifically (except for some bits of the song) nor are there any physical descriptions of Y/n so it's inclusive! Imagine who you like! xoxo

Word Count: 1,174

Warning: FLUFFFFFFFFYYYY SWEET! (Harry has a quick moment of anxiety)

. .

Harry wasn’t sure what he was looking at when he saw it. Maybe you were just playing a joke on him—? He always thought your singing voice kind of reminded him of a band he'd heard on the radio a few times… but this?

There you were on video. Right in his phone... wearing a very short skirt hopping around on stage like that. You were usually more of a jeans and t-shirt or sweater gal. It was clearly you–but it was like watching a doppelganger of you.

He blinked his eyes at his screen. His apartment was quiet as he was just waking up and still sitting in his bed. It was a normal morning routine. Wake up and check social media, emails, his daily schedule…

He had no idea how this had come across his feed. You. Like that. He rubbed his eyes. Was he still dreaming?

You hadn't been dating all that long but you were both already head over heels. It'd happened so fast and there was still so much to learn about one another but he knew you were it just like he hoped you felt the same. He knew you had a band and he'd heard you sing. You had guitars at your place and you wrote poems and lyrics in your notebook all the time. You were talented.

A text popped up on his screen from you.

See you in five minutes!

Scooting himself out of bed so he could at least brush his teeth he clicked on the page that had posted the video and there were more! Of you! Of this band that he'd heard of in passing. He held the phone up and started watching the next video. You were singing for a semi-large crowd. He pressed the button on his electric toothbrush and felt his heart thrumming harder and harder as you started singing another song. A song he'd heard on the radio.

It was surreal to see you like that. Why hadn't you told him? Why was he finding out like this? Did you not want him to know? Did you not see a future with him at all?

The questions in his brain were buzzing as various puzzle pieces began to fall into place. It made so much sense now that he was thinking of everything but it also had him worried that you never told him. Maybe you didn't trust him.

When he was done brushing his teeth he splashed water on his face and pressed his palms over his sink counter. He was going to have to confront you.

He looked down at his phone and clicked on the next video. The most recently uploaded video.

"I'm Y/n! Thank you for being here with us tonight!" The crowd was loud and he could hear some whistles and cheering.

"This next song is about a guy that I'm falling for hard. It wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't think it ever would. I haven't told him yet but I have this song." You began to sway as the guitarist started to play. "This is for love. For anyone who's felt it. This is for Harry."

He blinked at the screen and you began to sing.

"When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind..."

Harry was startled when he heard you knocking at his door. You were there and he was reeling from everything he'd just learned. Pausing the video he made his way to his door and opened it to see your pretty face. You immediately stepped in and wrapped your arms around his middle for a big hug.

He hesitantly placed his arms around you after he closed his door. But you noticed something was off. Harry was still holding his phone in his hand as you looked up at him.

"Everything okay?"

He looked like he was unable to put thoughts into words. Like he was stunned or hadn't expected to see you, even though you'd made plans to come over. Stepping back you clutched your hands over his wrists. "Harry?"

His throat bobbed when he swallowed and he blinked his eyes. "You're famous."

Your heart stopped. You knew he'd find out soon. You'd planned on telling him but it was always tricky telling people. You'd dated people in the past that were just looking for clout or trying to get there own name out there by using you. So it was a precaution. But you didn't need to hide it from Harry anymore.

"Yes. Well... kind of. I mean... a lot of people don't really know who I am. I'm not like at that level of fame but—"

"You don't trust me?"

"I do trust you, Harry. I promise." You slid your palms up his forearms and stepped in closer. "I was going to tell you. I just got a little scared because everything happened so fast between us. It just... I wanted to make sure first. I swear I've been planning to tell you because I... god... I just want to tell you everything."

"I don't understand why you never said anything." He shook his head but he didn't pull away from you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out before I told you. I wanted to share something really special with you and tell you in this like... really romantic way."

He moved his arm and opened up his phone before you heard your song being playe. The song you wrote for him. His eyes flitted from you to his phone as the lyrics you sang poured out around you.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk... Well, you are the only exception...

Harry looked at you, a sheen of tears in his eyes as he let the song play out. You kept your hand on his forearm and let the lyrics do the talking. You just hoped he understood. You hoped that he could see why it took you a bit to work up to telling him.

Oh, and I'm on way to believing…

He tucked his phone into his sweatpants pocket and looked at you with soft eyes. Taking his hands into yours you smiled up at him.

"I have a lot to tell you."

He puffed out a low laugh. "I think that's an understatement."

"Are you mad at me?"

He shook his head. "Kind of hard to be mad after hearing that song you wrote for me. Is all that true, Y/n?" He pulled his hand out of yours and lifted his warm palm up to your cheek.

"Yes. Every word of it."

"Does that mean you love me?"

Your heartbeat tripped up on itself as you nodded. "I do. I love you."

His eyes were piercing and so deep with emotion, you'd drown in them happily. "I guess it's time for me to confess something to you then, too." He grinned and you felt his hand move back to cradle your nape. "I love you too."

. .

@yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @tiaamberxx @closureesny

@angelbabyyy99 @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @onlyangellucifer

@harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lc-fics @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads

@harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@tiredinwinter @angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo

@brittanyzelazno @lemoncrushh @caynonmoondreams @mellamolayla @ladscarlett

@heartateasee @littlenatilda @finelinepie @michellekstyles @harrysredroom

@harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994 @devilsqueen722 @bananabk9756 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

@idkkkkkkk123lgb @freedomfireflies @fruity-harry @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @mema10

@gmikaelson

[imujings]

congrats on 100 followers !! slut by taylor swift, but more specifically the lyrics “in a world of boys, he’s a gentlemen” reminds me of seungcheol !! 🫶🏼

the wrong place at the right time and i break down, and then he's pullin' me in in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

wc <1k. warnings cursing (reader does indeed get called a slut), mentions of death, guns, violence, some blood, hurt/comfort. jay’s musings thank u thank u anon!! ;w; sorry i kind of got carried away,,, the way my imagination took this song and RAN WITH IT,, these lines fit cheollie sm omg… totally did not fantasize a whole fic w this LOL hope u enjoy!!

You’re running.

Trees whip past you, your shoes hitting the muddy ground harshly. Your breath comes out in short gasps. There’s a gunshot somewhere behind you but you don’t dare look back. Looking back means hesitating, and hesitation means death.

You just can’t catch a damn break, can you?

It’s just past blue hour, the vast sky above beginning to twinkle with stars. If you were anywhere else you’d take the liberty to stare up in amazement, pointing out what constellations were in view and being granted the reward of hearing a soft murmur of approval from Seungcheol beside you.

The thought is the only thing keeping you sensible at the moment.

You hadn’t meant to alert the robbers as they canoodled around their fire, planning their next big heist. Your foot had slipped, the gun in your grasp falling to the forest floor as you winced. Seungcheol’s eyes widened from across the clearing.

It was a miscalculation of just how slippery the ground had become from the storm; a misstep, a mistake.

The robbers’ heads snapped up at once, and all hell had broken loose soon after.

You didn’t know where Seungcheol was. Your partner had barked out something to you the second the robbers were alerted, but it was lost to the wind as you ran for your life.

Coward, you cry internally as the shouts and heavy footsteps of the men grow closer. You shouldn’t have ran. You messed up big time. Seungcheol could be dead because of you.

Coward, coward, coward.

There’s a loud curse somewhere from your right. You push through a bush, panic overtaking you. Thorns prickle you through your uniform and draw blood. Your lungs burn.

Tears are clouding your vision, and before you know it, you’re cornered.

Bark scrapes your back as you’re hoisted up by the collar, the muzzle of a gun cold and pressing to your throat. You bite back a whimper.

“You’re a pretty one, aren’t ya?” the criminal jeers from underneath his hood.

His voice is scratchy and his breath stinks of alcohol. You’re frozen in place, not daring to move a muscle.

“Maybe I should have a little fun before the finale,” he mutters, digging the gun further into your skin. “Would ya like that, slut?”

Before you can answer, a resounding crack! sounds. You watch as a fist flies into the side of the man’s head, a powerful kick following soon after. The robber’s grip loosens as he falls to the ground, blood pooling from his mouth.

You sink to the floor with a sob.

“Hey, hey,” Seungcheol’s voice is a welcome contrast to the roughness that handled you just moments before. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

He settles you against the tree, turned away from the unconscious man, his warm hands rubbing soothing circles along your knuckles.

“Did he hurt you? Tell me, did he hurt you? Are you injured anywhere?”

You shake your head, biting your lip and curling in on yourself. Your partner notices a scratch on your cheek and wipes the streaking blood away with his thumb. Seungcheol cups your face in his gloved hand, eyes watery.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. “I ruined the investigation. I almost got us killed.”

“No, no, no,” your name falls off his tongue like it’s sacred. “Don’t think that—please, don’t think that. That’s not what’s important right now. What matters is that you’re safe, and alive.”

Seungcheol brings you close to him, holding you tightly. The organization back at base will have so much to criticize, you want to wail into his chest. I’ll be deemed a failure right out of training and I’ll bring you down with me. I’m so sorry.

Instead, you weakly sniffle and pull away, tears staining your face and hair. Seungcheol eagerly wipes them away as he tends to your cuts.

You momentarily forget you’re in the middle of the woods, gun lost and criminals hot on your trail. The heat of his touch brings back some feeling to your senses, enveloping you in the scent of his cologne and the shaky press of his lips to the crown of your head.

Fuck the operation, his kiss says. The operation never matters more than your safety.

Never.

want to queue a song?

[noirsdoll]

Curly x reader who might be timid and shy but is a fucking double decker full time blown out PERVERT‼️‼️‼️🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾(not self projecting😡!!)

you're so real for this tbh... cw for anal and duct-taped pussy and a very horny curly!!

It’s hard to imagine you were the same girl who blushed over brushing hands and passing “good mornings” in the halls. The real you has been revealed with trepidation– Curly would describe it like coaxing a frightened animal out of its hideout. He just wants everyone to feel comfortable around him on the Tulpar, simple as that.

He just never thought you’d get this comfortable.

You have this beautiful, far-gone expression on your face, your lips spit-slicked and kiss-drunk. Cool trails of saliva travel between the valley of your tits, beading along your stomach. You just took Curly’s cock so far down your throat that Curly swore he saw stars. How did he get so lucky with you?

He runs his thick fingers through your hair, pulling you up onto him to lock lips once more, and you whine into it, pawing at his chest, desperate to have all of him under your hands at once.

“Want it in my ass,” you moan, breathless, clothed hips searching for him.

Your first time, and this is how you want it? He drags your pants down the curve of your ass with one hand, sitting up on his elbow with the other. You help him, eager yet still shaky with nerves. Curly’s jaw drops to the floor. 

You taped it over.

You bare yourself to him and all he can focus on is the thick stripe of tape covering up your chubby pussy, cool grey against your warm body. You're blushing so hard the colour washes over your chest. Heat laps off of you in waves.

Curly runs his fingers over the tape and a full-body shiver wracks your figure— he swallows the budding lump in his throat. You look so filthy and gorgeous and you're burning up. He can’t take it.

He eases his fingers past your lips, slicking them up on your never-ending supply of drool and then he’s getting you ready, scissoring your ass open as you sob into his broad chest.

He shushes you. “I’m right here, baby,” he coos, spreading your ass so he can press his cock into you— the slide is made easy by his wet dick and your slicked hole.

You mewl, tugging him in deeper. Your ribbed walls hug him so tightly and Curly gasps against the column of your throat. He can hardly move his hips, peppering kisses along your jaw as he waits for you to relax.

You feel so good, Curly finds himself not even wondering how your pussy feels, so absorbed in this moment. Big arms looped around the small of your back, he fucks up into you.

He buries his cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. He can’t rub your clit the way he wants with the tape in the way, but he doesn’t even think you need it. You look lost in the feeling, leaning back on your hands to ride him.

Curly groans into the back of his hand, the other gripping your hip to tug you up and down, helping you out just as much as he is manhandling you.

You collapse against him, tits squished against his chest as he pumps his load in you. You look up at him, so tiny, tears beading along your waterline and you kiss him open-mouthed. Your high washes over you like a flood and Curly helps you through it, your sweaty body pressed so perfectly against his.

[loveandleases]

Confessing to you late at night when they think you're asleep

Now this HAS to be Cam 😚

You know it! I was going to make it clumsy, but I guess Cam wanted to go for the heartstrings today. (Below the cut~)

If it were anyone else, Cam would have complained about sharing such a small bed. But it wasn't. It was you. It had always been you.

You were pressed close against him, the little makeshift wall of pillows he'd carefully built between you long gone. He wasn't surprised - he might've been the culprit.

"I'm cold," he murmured, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you close. It wasn't entirely a lie, though your body heat chased away the night's chill. The small apartment never had good heating, and you'd ended up in his bed more often than on the couch these days. Not that either of you minded.

You felt the brush of warm breath against your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. One of his legs shifted, slipping between yours, his foot hooking around yours as if it belonged there.

"Red…" he whispered, his hand hesitating before tapping your stomach. He sighed, and before you could turn to look at him he buried his face into the curve of your neck. Your pulse quickened at the closeness, the intimacy.

Then, barely audible, his voice wavered. "I don't know how much longer I can keep it from you," Warm tears slipped onto your skin as his body trembled against you. "I love you. I have for… for what feels like forever. Please, just…" He shook his head, his breath hitching as if the weight of his words threatened to crush him.

"Don't hate me. Because I can't fucking hold it in anymore. I feel like it's killing me. I loved you before Chris ever did. I loved you first. So much it hurts."

He took a shuddering breath, his voice barely holding together. "One day, I promise. I promise I'll tell you when you're awake. Just wait for me. Please, wait for me."

His lips pressed softly to your cheek before he started to pull his hand away.

But you couldn't let him.

The sound that escaped him was almost a sob when you grabbed his hand, keeping it firmly in place. "Red?" Fear laces his voice, thick and raw, and when you turned in his arms, his expression shattered what was left of your composure. His cheeks glistened with tears, his face a perfect portrait of anguish.

He tried to pull away, but your palm found his cheek, brushing away the wetness. His breathing slowed as your hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

"I'm tired of waiting, Cam."

Whatever reply he had was swallowed by your lips, soft but insistent. Reassuring. You'd imagined this moment - what his lips would feel like, taste like. The hunger behind his kiss. But not this. Not the way his breath hitched, his hand trembling as he gripped yours. You never imagined he would feel like he might break apart in your arms.

"Say it again," you urged, your voice steady, grounding him.

"I love you," he breathed, the words no longer shaky. His kiss, no longer uncertain.

[preiyers]

Dad!Luigi beaming with pride at you holding your daughter in the nursery. You’re so tired and feel so ugly but he says you’re the most beautiful he’s ever seen you in that moment and he thanks you for giving him Sunny😭😭😭

♱ BABYDOLL — DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE X READER

A/N: also added reader and luigi naming her in this <3

it has been 30 minutes since you gave birth to your and luigi's daughter. the nurses have placed her in a small crib inside your room while you fixed the details for her birth certificate.

you felt so tired. besides the lack of sleep, your legs were sore from keepinh them up and open, you could feel the stretch in your cervix, and your throat felt strained.

luigi saw your eyes threatening to close so he took over the papers and everything you had to deal with.

but, one important part of the birth certificate was your child’s name.

the pair of you hadn’t gotten to a decision before the birth other than the fact that you wanted her name to come from something the two of you have in common or one that has a part of you.

he was seated on the chair next to your bed, clipboard, and pen in hand as he filled up the information.

"what about ash?" he looked up at you, tapping the pen against his chin.

"babe, we are not naming our first child after a pokemon character." you stifled out a laugh despite how tired you were.

you felt your eyes about drop any second but an idea came up on your mind.

"sunny," you tell him, the sun seeping out the curtains of your hospital room. luigi's quick to get up from his seat and move the curtain.

"i know, the sun is up so early today." he responds and walks by your bed, checking if everything was set up okay before his eyes made its way to your face.

"come up here, lay with me," you told him, scooting over to give him some space to lay on.

there was a tight-lipped smile on his face as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear before he got on the bed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his warm body.

"you're so beautiful," and you couldn't help but chuckle at his words, knowing you probably looked your worst today. you felt the gunk in your eyes as you blinked, your lips dry, and considering you’ve been in the hospital for almost two days now, your hair was probably oily and clumped up. "i'm serious alright"

he places his other hand on your chin and then pecks your lips. "you're always so beautiful," he pecks your cheek. "especially today, i can't even imagine how painful it was to be carrying a whole other being in your body and having to push it out as well,"

the adoration he had for you was evident in his voice. he bit his lip as he started to feel the tears well up in his eyes. "you're so strong... and i can't thank you enough for giving me our daughter."

you take his hand in yours and place a peck in the innermost of his palm.

"what's gotten into you, lu?" you tease, your voice soft and he chuckles before shaking his head and wiping the tears that have fallen.

"can't i just admire my wife?" you just smile up at him and now, he was propped up on the bed properly with an arm around you and a hand over your stomach, where your baby used to settle.

silence filled the room. it was comfortable and very much needed after the rough 48 hours the two of you had in the hospital.

his hands fiddled with the blanket as he let you rest.

"also... i meant to say sunny could be her name," you moved your head to look at him and his eyes light up.

"i mean we did meet in hawaii, the sun was always up there and we both love the beach," you trailed on and he just smiled at your words before he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

"alright, sunny mangione it is."

TAGLIST !

@fuckitiloveyouu @meikoismartha @strawbxrryaxolotyl @ilovetoomanymen @onlyangelicc @for-lovers-always @freeluigihesbae

lmk if u wanna be a part of the taglist