#call me the gender overseer

[ghouldtime]

I need more neighbor König getting protective over his little neighbor.

I do believe he can get very possessive, though I'm not sure that's the word I'm looking for. But he's lost so much, so many people in his unit and people he had once considered friends. He won't even visit his own mother because he's scared for her safety. Maybe an enemy finds out some way some how about her and takes her as leverage. Now she gets to see colonel konig with his gear and mask and barking orders and not the sweet man she's come to know. How would he react or feel?

Ofc when she realizes it's just him and throws her arms around him

I'm sorry but I'm answering this because this doesn't fall under my characterization of him 😭 I can do the last part maybe one day when I'm not sick and have planned everything out in my mind THOROUGHLY

I know you meant no harm by this either!! This is just a bit of a rambly tangent to describe WHO my König is and why he's that way.

(Also stating that reader in neighbor isn't explicitly a she nor are they little in the same way. I write gender neutral for a reason! They're a grown adult)

Like I know it's just an imagine and possible scenario but for me I just don't really see it happening unless quite literally EVERYTHING went wrong. He's got plan A, plan B, plan C, D, and E. Always be prepared.

But it strikes me as unlikely in happening at all as he is a VERY cautious man and does what he can to remove his identity as König from his residential life. He keeps his gear under lock and key, he doesn't tell personal details of his work, he doesn't want to track ANY of that back. His field life isn't his personal life and he's intent on keeping that separated. Anything that could be used to identify him, he doesn't keep around or its hidden so NO ONE would suspect it.

It would take some absolute major intel and someone working within KorTac itself to follow him like that - even then, dude is a bit paranoid. He's got a security system for a reason, he doesn't wear his mask in public, his body is covered up usually by the long clothes he wears, he's not out socializing - he's just blending in. He's watching cars that pass, he usually keeps curtains drawn or has privacy film, he knows who drives what car and their schedules - so if it's off, he's picking it up.

The way he's protective is in his actions - that's WHY he won't tell details of his work, that's WHY he works hard to ensure personal life doesn't meddle with what his job is, that's WHY he has backup plans. That's WHY he makes sure they get a security system too, if they haven't had one already. That's why he makes sure they're trained in self defense and have at least some form of weapon at the ready, even though they ARE in a safe area. He's protective in the sense of "I'm doing what I can to prevent that aspect of my life from coming into yours" , he's protective in the sense of "I've seen what people are capable of, I've protected myself so I'm protecting you too as much as I can because you matter to me". He's protective in the sense he's caring, he's going out of his way to make sure you're safe.

But he's not going to be protective in the sense of "let me be with you constantly" or "who were you talking to???" or "Why didn't you invite me". Reader is a grown, independent adult and he's aware of that. He's respectful of that and knows they're capable of caring for themselves too. Being IN their life doesn't mean he IS their life. They both operate in their own lives and have their own interests and both, as such, need alone time and time to spend with others too. That's just how to have healthy relationships.

He's very independent himself and having another person around as his friend has taken a significant adjustment period. Honestly, it takes a long time for him to even register that he can go do things with them. He's so used to being on his own that it has to catch up.

And I'm going to say that my König is NEVER possessive towards people. Never. Possessive implies treating them like an object or piece of property, like they're something that's his alone. Possessive means great insecurity in his sense of relationships to the extent where he's manipulating them and monopolizing their lives for his gain.

He's not, because he's a well adjusted adult who has been to therapy throughout his life to manage his own insecurities, especially involving interpersonal relationships. Hell, when he STARTED to even get feelings for neighbor, he brought it up to said therapist just to be sure he's going down the right path. He's built a set of healthy behaviors to cope with unhealthy feelings that may arise.

He gets jealous, especially initially, but once again - he's a grown adult and is capable of handling his own insecurities in a productive way. Everyone is allowed to have more than one person in their lives and a healthy network of relationships matters.

Protective? Yes. Possessive? Absolutely not. He respects independence as he himself is that way. He wants to spend as much time as possible with his neighbor but he realizes that he too needs his own space and time to recharge, and he can't be singularly focused on one person alone. His primary concern is their safety, no matter what they do.

He's lost many comrades and brothers in arms but that's also bound to happen in his line of work. This might sound brutal, but he's desensitized to it to a degree. Losing someone is never easy, but it's expected. The blow will always hurt but when it's always a possibility, it never wanes. He's wary of it and aware of it, and losing any friends he made happened earlier on in the army before his private contracting days. It numbed him too it and set the precedent for his relationships with anyone and is why he's so guarded.

After then, he's not really had many friends. Not that he had many to begin with but he doesn't go out of his way to get close to others. Acquaintances and work buddies? Yes. But friends are a rarity as he's really rather unapproachable. He's there to do his job, he's there to take people down and get paid, he's wary of getting close to ANYONE knowing they can be taken at any moment. He'll work with them, he'll know them, he'll be proud of them - but making friends and forming personal relationships like that in a private military contracting company is a bad idea, when they can easily swap over to the other side if they're offered more pay. He's seen it happen, he knows it's a real possibility.

That's why he picks any personal relationships closely and takes eons to warm up. His social anxiety, as well managed as it is, doesn't make it any easier. He knows what can happen, so he prepares as best as he can. Which INCLUDES being protective and prepared, and planning accordingly. If he's letting anyone into his life, he's already got a game plan for what he'll do.

And no, he DOES visit his mother, as I've stated! As much as his work allows and as much as possible, he does visit. He just doesn't live with or near her. He can easily visit throughout the year when his schedule allows and its sporadic, with no rhyme or reason. He doesn't take repeating cars, he doesn't do anything in a pattern that can be tracked. He's also made sure she's secure in her home too so it's unlikely things will happen, but he won't flat out not communicate with her and not see her at all. He's just smart and careful about it! He can't bare to never see her again.

I'm sorry but my König just doesn't fall under how most people portray him or see him. He's just a guy with his own personal issues. And like the proper guy that he is, he manages them and knows its his responsibility to do such. He's extensively gone to therapy, he's worked on himself, he knows where he stands.

Sure, he's still prone to jealousy and a touch of paranoia, but that doesn't mean he lacks the skills to work through them. He communicates like an adult with whatever he's feeling. Expressing it can be hard but he DOES get it out there and he also heavily respects reader's own autonomy. They're an adult, so is he. He'll protect them and do what he can, he'll care about them, but he will never seek to control them or treat them like something for only HIM to have. He's not and will never be a "they're MINE and NO ONE touches what's mine" - that's just not him to me. I don't write him as a big, broody dommy guy who is growling every sentence or can't handle others talking to someone he likes.

To me, he's just a dude. An introverted guy who likes to sew ridiculous pillows and tend to his garden who is happy in the home he made for himself. He's comfortable with who he is and where he stands. He can communicate properly, knows how to respect boundaries, and likes seeing others who matter to him happy in their lives as they establish a supportive network. Just because he isn't always with them or going with them doesn't mean they can't take care of themselves or he HAS to be there. He's not some ultra possessive dude because he has healthy understandings of boundaries and knows the world doesn't revolve around him and his wants (also he wouldn't WANT them to depend on him and him alone when its very possible he too will die on the field one day). He's not always going to look over your shoulder or instantly treat any other person as a threat.

He's seasoned with the things he's seen and is wary enough to be protective and to do what he knows to prevent what he's seen happen. He's cautious, he's considerate, he's caring - and he's not a cunt about it. Really, he's just perceptive and accepts what can happen so he tries to set up anyone in his life for success to avoid what he's seen and to keep them from harm. He can't always be there, he knows he can't, so ensuring that those around him who he DOES care about have a proper, healthy network of friends around for support and have a game plan for if shit hits the fan (as well as a system to enact it) is his way of showing he cares and can always be with them and help, even if he's long gone or buried six feet under.

[doomdoomofdoom]

he gets me like no one else

[synonymroll648]

IF LORE UPDATES APPLIED TO PEOPLE I WOULDVE JUST GOTTEN ONE OF MY HAPPIEST LORE UPDATES TODAY

[chososdiscordkitten]

Are You A Chick?!

artist: @kcokaine_ on twt

Synopsis: Gojo gets turned into a woman for a few hrs and reader nd him get down to fun activities ^-^

Pairing: Fem!Gojo x Fem!Reader Content: established relationship, unexplained gender bending, GOJUSSY :D , wlw, use of his/her regarding gojo, fingering (f gojo receiving), oral (f gojo receiving), squirting (gojo), SCISSORING🤩✂️, dirty talk, god I love women

MDNI

You were lying on your shared bed, bored, scrolling on your phone, waiting for your boyfriend to come home from work. You were about to call him to ask why he was so late. Only you heard the front door of your apartment opening- bolting off the bed to greet him at the door. 

Halting your steps when you saw a smaller version of Satoru standing in the kitchen. 

Wearing the now oversized clothes you saw Satoru leave the apartment in that morning. You squint your eyes, scanning his face and noticing it was much softer. 

His jawline not half as sharp, poutier lips and a smaller nose- his face looked so similar, only it had a more feminine look to it. His eyes were the only thing that stayed the same- big and adorned with thick white lashes.  

“Don’t say a word.” Satoru spoke- his voice a higher pitch and with a suede purr. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, seeing Satoru reach out a much smaller hand than you expected- “Are you a chick?” you parted your lips- amused at how the blush started to rise on your boyfriend’s cheeks. 

Satoru huffed- a bitchy sigh with his hip popped slightly. “It’ll only last for a few hours.” you huffed- entertained at the feminine voice Gojo spoke in. 

Though he was usually taller and broader, his clothes were too large for his now more petite frame. 

You darted your eyes down to her chest- Small pebbles peaked beneath Gojo’s tshirt, his small breasts forming two tents beneath the fabric. Widening your eyes and realizing that this was real. 

“Can I touch them?” you asked, the corners of your lip curled up- thinking about how sensitive Satoru was generally. You wanted to discover how sensitive your boyfriend was in a woman’s body. 

Satoru scoffed- sounding just like you’d expect him to as a woman, bitchy and bordering on a bimbo tone. 

Your boyfriend shook off the oversized jacket- showing you just how much smaller he was now. 

Gojo furrowed his eyebrows- small and effortlessly perfect, pushing out her tits and looking at you with a pouty glossed lip. 

You reached your hands out eager to feel your boyfriends breasts. “Should I be concerned that the first thing you wanna do when I get home is feel me up?” Gojo laughed- a soft giggle coming from her throat. 

Scoffing as you placed your hands beneath Gojo’s braless tits, “If I came home the opposite gender- what would the first thing you do be?” you scoffed, Parting your lips and grabbing what you could from her chest.

Perky and no bigger than an A cup. But her tits filled your palms perfectly. 

Your thumb took an exploratory swipe at the little bud formed beneath the t-shirt. Earning a light, pretty huff from Satoru’s lips, flashing your eyes back up at him with a glimmer circling your pupil. 

You raised your eyebrows- a greedy smile forming on your lips at all the thoughts that raced through your mind. “Can I fuck you?” You grinned, watching the blush on Satoru’s cheeks deepen. 

It took very little for Gojo’s lips to snap to yours- feeling the petite woman before you trying to take the reins from your hands- but all it took was one little grope at her ass to make Gojo compliant. 

Guiding Satoru back into your bedroom with your hands roaming beneath the hem of his shirt- grasping at the soft skin beneath the fabric with pretty whimpers falling from her lips onto yours. 

Pulling away from Satoru’s lips when you settled him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Her lips pulled to the side, a soft ‘tsk’ leaving them as Satoru looked up at you. “Why does it feel like you’re more into this than normal?” Your gender-bent boyfriend bitched at you as you slipped off your shirt. 

Placing your hands onto the sides of Satoru’s chunky cheeks, pressing soft kisses onto the puffy lips of her face and guiding her to scooch up the bed. 

You grinned, placing your hands on the edge of Gojo’s shirt. “What does it feel like?” changing the conversation as you pulled Satoru’s shirt off his body. Hanging your mouth open and seeing the sight before you. 

Not in a million years could you picture the portrait that was painted before you. 

Satoru’s bottom lip pouted, a roaming blush forming on her chest and pink hardened nipples greeting you. 

“Feels like I’m gettin’ pawed at.” Satoru scoffed, pressing her lips back onto yours and feeling your hands rest on his hips, dipping your fingers beneath the band of the oversized sweats and rolling them off. Feeling Satoru’s hands mimic the movement on your own bottoms. 

Only this time- compared to the hundreds of others, Satoru’s hands had a soft, delicate touch. 

Satoru had you pinned as he naturally did, on your back and your legs spread with her hips resting between them. Satoru tugged your bottoms off as his delicate lips moved against yours. 

Feeling Gojo do the same, leaving him bare and waiting for something to happen- trying to recall what he usually does whenever he isn’t a woman- trailing his smaller hands from your side to your inner thigh. 

You scoffed- “This isn’t about me ‘toru.” you smiled, pulling his hands from your thigh and intertwining your fingers with her slim ones. Looking at the soft expression your boyfriends feminized face held. 

“You don’t wanna know what it feels like for me?” you grinned, trailing the tips of your fingers against her rib cage- causing a shuddering exhale to leave his lips. 

Satoru bit her lip, feeling the warmth between her legs twitch from your offer. 

You trailed your hand between her thighs, reaching the drenched center Satoru had ignored between his legs till now. 

Watching her mouth inhale sharply, batting his white eyelashes closed as you lightly traced your middle and ring finger against her core. 

It took very little for Gojo to straddle your thighs, leaning an arm back and planting it on your calf. Giving you an unobstructed view of your boyfriends pretty, glistening cunt. 

As pretty and leaky as his cock was- this gave you a different kind of shiver down your spine from how fucking gorgeous he looked right now. 

Your hands rubbing softly on Satoru’s thighs, looking up to her shy expression. 

Satoru was a talker typically- teasing and being able to act on his horny threats just to make you blush. But now Satoru held her tongue, shy eyes avoiding your gaze. And squirming at the light grips you’d make against his thighs. 

And when her hips had ground down- instinctively as though you had cock for him. 

Or when your hands finally reached his pale inner thighs- you swore you could hear a slight shudder take the shape of a whimper leave Gojo’s throat. The prettiest sound you had yet to hear from him. 

He would let out pretty sounds generally, but this- this was something different. More defined, and less throaty. Almost as angelic as the pretty white lashes fanning over Satoru’s blushing cheeks. 

His hand urging you with a light squeeze at your thigh. When you finally traced the pad of your thumb against the little glistening pearl that you had neglected for what felt like an eternity to Satoru;

As though it was unwillingly, tossing her head back with a nibbled lip. Even the curve of her neck was fucking pretty. 

Dissolving into the feeling of your gentle thumb against his clit. His grip against your thigh turned to a squeeze with urge as you made more teasing circles against him with a hand on his pale thigh. 

Between a breathy moan, Satoru looked back to you- “It’s unfair that you get to feel this all the time.” she huffed as you applied a little more pressure to the sensitive nub. 

“Just wait till I make you cum-” you huffed with a smile, watching Satoru’s effeminate face churn with pinched eyebrows at your words. 

You raised your hand from his thigh- placing it flat, right where his womb would be. “Do you feel it building right here?” you asked in a murmur, looking up at your pretty boyfriend with amazed eyes. 

Satoru only nodded quickly- her plush lip tucked between pearly teeth and eyes closed. Your thumb making hastier circles and watching Satoru’s chest heave with eyes full of wonder.

Your hand traced to her bent hip, lightly squeezing at the malleable skin and watching the face Satoru made as you drew an orgasm out of her. The tips of your ring and middle finger circling at the taut entrance that seeped nectar. 

Satoru gasped when the pad of your thumb caught the very tip of his clit. Snapping one of his slender hands onto your shoulder as a brace. And your lips being right at the level of his perky tits- your lips parted and latched onto the puffy pink nipple on her chest. 

The whimpers that left Gojo’s throat were far too genuine- knowing how unashamed he was about them normally, the ones he let out now would be equally as unashamed.

Satoru’s lips parted in a small ‘o’- stuttering over every other moan as your thumb rubbed harsher circles against him. Your tongue lapped at the pebble of her nipple, sucking harshly to draw more pretty sounds from her lips. 

Gojo tried- she tried warning that they were cumming. As though some kind of mess would spew from him as it usually did. Only your hands didn’t care- neither did your relentless lips. 

With a choked moan- Satoru held his breath. His cunt clenching around nothing as the tips of your fingers felt the twitching his entrance made- as though she was trying to suck them in. 

Your eyes looked up at the pretty sight before you- parting your lips and throwing your head back. Watching with amazed eyes at the pale, shuddering shoulders that were graced with light goosebumps. 

Satoru’s eyebrows were lightly pinched, and her puffy lips parted- finally releasing the air trapped in his lungs with a pretty moan. 

Giving him a few seconds to shake off the aftershocks of his very first orgasm as a woman. Satoru trailed her hands to the side of your head, caressing gently and looking down with a peaked corner at her lip. 

“So unfair-” he whispered, leaning down and pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips as his hips ground down to your fingers. Your thumb made little to no movements as Satoru’s hips urged your fingers to press inside. 

And as bitchy and needy as he was as a man- You knew not to deny Satoru this now. 

Isolating your middle finger and pressing against Satoru’s soaked, taut entrance- a whimper between a breath leaving his throat and rumbling onto your lips. Lightly curling your finger until you hit a little nudge inside him. 

The little prod making Satoru pull away from you with a soft whine. Both of his hands now on your neck and arm- trying to find soothing in whatever his hands could grip. 

“More,” Satoru whimpered into the air between you- a high pitched upturn ending her plea. Your lips latched onto hers- drawing your finger from her soft walls and pressing it to the neighboring finger. 

Lazily kissing at the corner of her mouth, trailing kisses down to Satoru’s softer jaw. Pressing both of your fingers past her entrance- “So tight-” you murmured, feeling resistance from her walls as her hands gripped harder. 

Clearer whimpers and moans, leaving her throat at the light sting, your lips kissing down her neck- trying to find the sweet spot Satoru always allowed you to exploit. 

And when the tips of both of your fingers reached that same spot from earlier, the moan that left Satoru’s lips bordered on guttural- a high-pitched inhale followed as your lips found the sensitive spot of her neck. 

Suckling at the pale skin as your palm pressed flush against her clit. Satoru’s eyes fluttered shut as his hips started moving back and forth. Unashamedly rutting his cunt against the arch of your palm as your fingers lightly bumped into her gspot. 

Your lips formed a smile against Gojo’s skin- grateful of how pretty she sounded, almost like a hymn to your ears. Even more with the light squelches of his cunt frotting against your hand. 

Reaching your hand up her ribcage that flared with every sharp inhale she made. Lightly cupping her breast with a teasing thumb on the hardened nipple. 

It was too much for Satoru- overstimulating himself as his hips moved without instruction from his brain. The tingle of Satoru’s own gluttony formed in his spine as your thumb took a few soft swipes at his nipple. 

“M’gonna cum again-” she whimpered, as though it was you moving her hips against your palm. You pulled your lips from her collarbone with a smile. 

“Go ahead.” you instructed, tone far too deep and overindulgent as Gojo’s hips moved quicker- frotting her leaking cunt against you with a whimper. 

It was as though the pearly gates of heaven opened for Satoru as he felt another orgasm wave over her petite shoulders, his cunt clenching around your fingers. Barely able to keep his posture as she rode herself down- greedy hums leaving Satoru’s lips as you kissed at her chest. 

Using the hand on her hip to guide her to keel onto her side- landing on the bed with a pleased smile. Rolling onto her back as your lips planted gentle kisses on her sternum. 

Soft hums leave his lips as your hands spread his thighs. Tilting her head to the side and watching your shoulders rest between her flawless thighs. Placing a hand to the top of your head as your lips kissed at her thighs. 

“You’re so greedy~” Satoru hummed as your lips dampened small circles on her thighs- close to her glistening cunt, but still so fucking far. 

You let out a soft laugh, “I’m greedy?” softly caressing his outer thighs as she nodded against the pillows. Excitement reeling behind her cerulean eyes- so eager to know what it feels like to receive head as a woman. 

And as though her hand was urging you to finally kiss somewhere other than her thighs- you made a light lick from her perfectly displayed cunt up to her clit with a shuddering sigh leaving her lips. A groan left your lips at her flavor- as sweet as you expected her to taste. 

Your hands held Satoru’s hips, keeping them spread with her feet planted harshly against the bed. Your tongue made a few more kitten licks at her clit- hearing the desperation in every whimper that left her lips. 

Taking one of your hands and aligning it with her entrance again- right below your chin and slowly pushing them in. Your lips connect with the base of her clit with your tongue lightly swirling against the puffy nub. 

Your fingers moving with ease now- his cumt stretched just enough for you to start pumping your fingers. Satoru swore that his eyes would cross had he held them open- so he closed them. 

Thralling his head back into the pillows with a throaty moan- the hand on his hip moving up her side- gripping at Satoru’s breast with a light squeeze. 

Gojo’s back arching against the bed as your fingers prodded against her gspot. The whispers of overstimulation roaming up her spine once more as she felt another orgasm build in her womb. 

Only this time it felt different- His moans far too loud as your tongue made relentless swirls against her clit- your fingers bumping into her gspot at the perfect angle. 

“Wait-” Satoru inhaled sharply, his hips bucking up into your mouth as the knot in her tummy tightened. Nodding her head quickly as she fisted the sheets- knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping. 

You looked up at Gojo, furrowed eyebrows and parted lips greeting you as Satoru whimpered. Threats of ‘I’m gonna—’ left her lips as you continued the mean movements. 

Satoru sat up slightly with a groan- your palm filling with spurts of liquid as your fingers continued. 

Loud mewls leaving Gojo’s throat as your mouth refused to stop- making sure to drain Satoru as the sides of your face became drenched with his squirt. 

“J-jesus fucking chri-” she called out in an exhale- her hips stuttering against your lips as you slowed your fingers. 

And when you finally got your fill, Satoru’s hands cupped the sides of your face and pulled you back up to him. A light moan vibrating onto your lips as she kissed you. Tasting her own slick and essence on your lips with every swipe her tongue made against yours.

Your hands groping at her thighs as Satoru pulled away from your lips- looking into your eyes with urgency. 

“Fuck me baby, please-” She whimpered into the air, desperately needing to feel you. In any way she could. 

You pressed your lips onto hers again, feeling her hand roam down to your bottom and give you a squeeze, the other cupping at your breast- noting that even as a woman, Satoru had wandering hands. 

In the split second after Satoru begged you to fuck her- you thought to the how. No strap- no toys at your disposal- but then you thought of the closest thing. 

Rolling over with Satoru in your hands- leaving you on your back with one of Satoru’s knees planted beneath your thigh. The other straddled atop your other leg.

Completely tangled between limbs as you pulled your lips from hers- Your bare cunt and his threatening to touch as she looked at you with curious eyes. 

You placed your hands onto her hips, looking into her bleary, cerulean eyes and guiding her down. A little whimper leaves your lips at the sudden contact of her cunt against yours. 

It took very little for Satoru to get the hint- planting her hands onto your sides and straightening her back. 

Taking a small nibble at her lip at the feeling of your clits bumping against each other. Looking down and watching at the small grinds he made- a small giggle laced with a moan leaving her lips. “Ffffuck, It’s like we’re kissing~” she grinned, causing you to let out a small laugh with an eye roll. 

Satoru reached for the back of your thigh with one hand, pinning it up slightly to give her a better access and a better view. 

Gojo tried starting at a slow pace- but the warmth radiating from your cunt onto his was undeniably tantalizing. 

Small moans fell from her lips as she started making unpatterned, sloppy thrusts against you. Uncaring if it wasn’t right- only that it felt good when his clit would bump against yours and the mixing slick of both your cunts making the filthiest shlops and squelches made him even more wet.

Her tits bounced with every desperate thrust she made against you, your hands holding a bruising grip at her pale hips, following every grind she would make against you. 

And when Satoru’s thighs started burning from the frantic movements- your hands led her hips into the frotting. Through gritted teeth- “Right here ‘toru-” you mumbled, Satoru taking over for your hands and humping against that very spot. 

Her face churned with pure, undiscovered pleasure as the mixed slick made it easier to glide against you. 

Shared moans reverberated off the walls before Satoru leaned down to connect her lips with yours, her breasts pressing against yours harshly. Keeping the same quick pace against your linked cunts. 

His tongue slotting against yours sloppily as moans rumbled against each other- hands gripping at anything they could find with his clit grinding against your own neglected one. Building your own orgasm as you hummed against Gojo’s lips.

One of your hands on her plump ass- gripping harshly with the other on her hip- and Satoru’s were gripping for dear life at your plush thighs- working himself through the overstimulation with soft groans against your lips. 

Splitting the kiss with a loud whimper- desperate hips rutting against you at an unbelievable pace as you felt the knot in your tummy threaten to come undone- “I’m cummin-” she whimpered before pressing her lips back onto yours. 

Your eyes tightened as Satoru worked you past an orgasm, back arching against the bed as Satoru crossed the finish line with you. Squirting whatever was left inside of her against your cunt. 

Huffing heavily through her nose as her hips slowed- Satoru’s grip on your thighs loosening as she felt the aftershocks roll through her shoulders. 

Easing your thigh down and feeling Gojo rest her body weight atop yours- just like he did when he was a man. Her lips sloppily moved against yours before pulling away- hazy eyes and pressing her chest further into yours with a pout. 

Your hands raised from her ass and rested on the soft skin of her back. Satoru raised her shoulders and looked into your eyes- almost troubled.

“What is it?” you mumbled, touching her cheek and caressing it softly with your thumb. Watching the pout deepen before parting his lips. 

Her breasts pressed against yours- “How do you know what to do with another girl?” Satoru pouted in a sad tone. You smiled softly, nodding your head and resting back into the pillows. 

“I did a lot of experimenting in college.” you hummed, Satoru following you and rubbing her nipples against yours unknowingly. 

Your eyes flashed down to your connected chests- “You’ll still like me when I become- me again, right?” She spoke softly- shy and stark in comparison to how he usually was. 

You pinched your eyebrows- “Course I will ‘toru-” pressing a soft kiss to her lips, “I can’t wait till you're back to normal.” you mumbled. Looking at the blush on Satoru’s cheeks deepen at your declaration. 

Satoru let out a dreamy sigh, squinting and looking down to where your eyes kept flashing. “S’like we’re kissing.” you smiled with a mumble, a small giggle leaving Satoru’s lips. 

She sighed, leaning her head back down to your shoulder, “Dunno how you get anything done if that’s what it feels like every time.” Satoru mumbled, closing her eyes and placing a hand on the side of your face. 

A half-laugh left your throat, “I would be all over you 24/7 if I was a chick.” he hummed, legs tangled against each other as your hand rubbed small circles at her back. 

“God knew not to make you a woman, you’d cause too much trouble,” you murmured, hearing a half conscious hum leave Satoru’s lips as she drifted to sleep atop you. 

That night you fell asleep with your girlfriend in your arms- soft, dainty and bare in your hands. Breathing softly with a feminine tinge in every exhale she made. 

And you woke up with your broad, far too heavy boyfriend in your arms. His exhales taking their usual throaty tone when he breathed them against your skin.  

Either or- it was still your Satoru. No matter what form he took, he was still yours. 

-

(a.n) this was so hot, I love woman, and gojussy. by the time you're reading this, ill be watching a medieval tournament👍🏽

[sunnami]

❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm. 

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers. 

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell. 

Not again! 

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside. 

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due. 

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident,  Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors. 

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.) 

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head.  You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction. 

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams. 

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.) 

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else. 

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.   

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.  

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes. 

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.) 

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier. 

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.) 

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones. 

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback. 

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling. 

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did. 

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again. 

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing. 

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else. 

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion. 

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.) 

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate? 

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus. 

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel. 

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?” 

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace. 

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap. 

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh. 

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it. 

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two. 

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity. 

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers. 

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate. 

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear. 

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you. 

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask. 

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?) 

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background? 

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you. 

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall. 

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .” 

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”  

Lily stays silent. 

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face? 

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company. 

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words. 

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!” 

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback. 

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.” 

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp. 

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave. 

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof. 

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall? 

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that. 

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek. 

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve. 

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes. 

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.” 

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.” 

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.” 

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.” 

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?” 

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.” 

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp. 

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’ 

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?) 

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well. 

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head. 

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun. 

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.) 

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger. 

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done. 

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest. 

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old. 

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’ 

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.) 

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about. 

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.) 

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned. 

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.) 

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold. 

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby. 

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands. 

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.) 

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth. 

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work. 

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”) 

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.) 

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done. 

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?” 

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?) 

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.” 

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.” 

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.” 

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.” 

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace. 

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.” 

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?” 

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.” 

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug. 

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red. 

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .” 

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.” 

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second. 

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave. 

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes. 

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes. 

You freeze in fear. 

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels. 

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.” 

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.” 

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?” 

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.  

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.” 

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back. 

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?” 

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?” 

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?” 

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly. 

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.” 

And so, you choose them. 

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor. 

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.” 

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper. 

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same. 

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more. 

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

[sanaexus]

social's as reo's girlfriend

-liked by nagi.seishiro, kuniisuke and 198.3k others

yourusername: he loves me (trust)

tagged: reo.miikage

isaichii: is he hiding his face bc he's ashamed or bc he's ashamed? ↳yourusername: COME ON I'M NOT THAT BAD 🙁🙁 ↳isaichii: the last time we went out to a fancy place you said deez nuts to the waiter who asked for your order ↳rin.itoshi: she dressed up as cinderella to take out the trash ↳yourusername: THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET?? ↳reo.miikage: i love you but what the fuck? ↳yourusername: you don't get to say that when you threw a hissy fit over nagi choosing isagi ↳reo.miikage: betrayal often comes from the ones you least expect it from

user1: did he pay you to take that picture ↳yourusername: no ↳user1: know your worth girly ↳reo.miikage: you'll never beat the gold digger allegations this way ↳yourusername: what if they aren't allegations and actually true ↳reo.miikage: what ↳reo.miikage: Y/N WDYM ↳reo.miikage: OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR WDYM BY THAT

nagi.seishiro: without me? ↳yourusername: lil man you better stafu bfr i hurt your balls bc he's with you 24/7 ↳user2: lil man ain't he like 6'0 ↳user3: sometimes lil man do be a 6'0 giant oversized mop of white hair ↳yourusername: he legit pats your hair like a cat, carries you around, pays for all your shi, kicks balls w you tf you want let me have him for sometime ↳nagi.seishiro: choki misses him ↳reo.miikage: im omw dw ↳yourusername: step out of that fucking door and i'll make sure both of you end up like kaiser ↳mikka.kaiser: UN FUCKING CALLED FOR THE FUCK DID I DO ↳yourusername: idk im js a girl ↳alexis.ness: don't feel safe no more not until i'm around ↳yourusername: i like being kidnapped /hj ↳reo.miikage: wtf

-liked by isaichii, megubachi and 187.2k others

yourusername: i've only had mr.teigo for a day and a half but if anything happened to him i would kill everyone in this room and then myself

tagged: reo.miikage

chigi.who: who the fuck is mr.teigo ↳yourusername: SHUR UP GIVR HIM RECPEST YOU FOOL ↳yourusername: hes the purple ballon btw ↳sae_itoshi: shut* give* rsepect* ↳shiidoryu: YOU GOT IT WRONG TO LMFAO ↳itoshi_sae: it was fucking autocorrect ↳shiidoryu: you can be "it" i can be "autocorrect" that way you can fuck me 😊😊 ↳itoshi_sae: and they say romance is dead ↳chigi.who: are we gonna ignore the fact Y/N WOULD COMMIT MURDER FOR A FUCKING BALLOON??? ↳reo.miikage: pretty tame if you ask me ↳nagi.seishiro: it's normal ↳rin.itoshi: surprised she hasn't already ↳isaichii: v v normal ↳megubachi: my monster likes him ↳julian.loki: being honest so would i he's so cute 🎀 ↳yourusername: hOW DARE YOU TWO ASSUME IT'S GENDER !!! THEY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DECIDE FOR THEMSELEVES APOLOGIZE TO MR.TEIGO ↳kuniisuke: YOU CALL HIM "MR" INDICATING HE'S A MALE FUCKING DUMBASS ↳yourusuername: my balloon my rules

megubachi: i'd let mr.teigo braid my hair and then we skip to the near by garden where we swing tgt ↳yourusername: YES OMG YES !!!! ↳reo.miikage: no ↳yourusername: go be 👬 w nagi or something

user3: why do you look so 😾😾 in the first picture ↳yourusername: i pointed at a fish and said "aww look it's so cute" and without any hesitation he's like "yeah reminds me of nagi" ↳nagi.seishiro: L ↳yourusername: i'll beat your ass in fnaf come fight me lil boy ↳nagi.seishiro: i'm betting choki on it ↳oliver.aiku: GASP!11!!1!11 HE'S BETTING CHOKI?? Y/N'S GETTING COOKED ↳yourusername: like how isagi absolutely cooks you<3 ↳eita.otoya: foul? yes. do i want you to keep going? yes

-liked by chigi.who, karasu_tabito and 201.3k others

yourusername: it isn't reo without nagi

tagged: reo.miikage, nagi.seishiro

user4: the third picture LMFAO ↳yourusername: when reo realized his soccer (life) partner got stolen by some puzzle solver ↳mikka.kaiser: IT'S FUCKING FOOTBALL WE'VE GONE OVER THIS ↳hiyori: suck my dick ↳yourusername: ask ness to do that he does it to kaiser all the time, his head is prolly better ↳alexis.ness: no what the fucj ↳yourusername: 🎀👬

nikkoki: damn shawty you seem good at biting lips how ab biting mine @/reo.miikage ↳yourusername: take nagi instead pls

reo.miikage: who the fuck and I MEAN WHO THE FUCK EDITED THAT LAST PICTURE ↳yourusername: it suits you ↳reo.miikage: does not ↳chigi.who: you were plucking out the hairy part of your tooth brush to see if nagi would choose you ↳hiyori: HAIRY PART LMFAO WHAT ↳rin.itoshi: you mean bristles? ↳karasu_tabito: there's a name for that shi? ↳kenyu.yukimiya: no shit?? you don't js call it "the hairy shit on your tooth brush" ↳karasu_tabito: ... ↳eita.otoya: ... ↳kenyu.yukimiya: PLEASE DON'T TELL ME YOU THOUGHT THAT'S WHAT IT WAS CALLED

isaichii: wait if you two were kissing and nagi was playing video games then who the fuck took that picture? ↳yourusername: idk someone randomly dms it to me on instagram and i'm like yeah this is useful ↳reo.miikage: WHAT ↳isaichii: someone sent bro a picture of her and her bf kissing and she's like "yeah thanks" ↳yourusername: how else was i supposed to get pictorial evidence of nagi always being there ↳reo.miikage: that's js lies ↳yourusername: LOOK AT THE FUCKING PICTURE MATE

i'm so sorry this took so long and it's so mid?? but i had no motivation and i js had to post something so

[w2sology]

Hi can u do harry with shy and pregnant reader who ìs like a little sister to rest of the sidemen

nerf or nothing, harry lewis.

summary: the boys come over to spend a bit of time with you and harry, and they come bearing gifts!

warnings: pregancy (idk if that's even a warning?)

notes: as a shy person myself, some of this writing is heavily self inserted 🥲

"what if they don't end up liking football though?"

"then we can try darts. or hey, even rugby."

"harry."

it was past noon and you and harry were discussing things that parents to be often discussed, only harry was focused on the later years of your child's life.

the two of you sat in bed, your back leaning against his chest as you sat in between his legs, loads of catalogues scattered around you both.

"oh, about the pram that you were talking about before," harry mentioned.

"yeah?"

"ethan said faith had loads of websites, she could send them to you if you wanted?"

"oh, god, yes." you sighed contentedly, no longer feeling the stress of having to look for a perfect pram. "or better yet, tell her that she can come over, i haven't seen her or olive in a minute."

harry told you that he'd let ethan know, kissing your forehead before leaving to the kitchen to fix you both a snack.

whilst he was in the middle of pouring you a glass of cranberry juice ─── "it's good for the body harry," you told him, to which he replied with "no, rank is what it is," ─── the doorbell rang.

confused as to who you were both expecting or if it was yet another baby purchase coming in, harry sat the glass on the counter and made his way to the door.

before he could even open it, he knew who it was judging by the loud voices and the bickering of what sounded like jj and simon.

"just ring it once, mate, they can definitely hear." simon groaned, trying to obstruct jj, who clearly didn't listen and kept pressing the doorbell, which earned your attention from upstairs.

harry stood a little away from the door, contemplating what would happen if he just turned around and pretended not to hear the commotion happening outside.

"we can see you, harry," ethan called from through the letterbox. so much for that plan.

harry sighed before opening the door, a smile plastered on his face as his friends all cheered, seeing them bound with gifts and food and other things.

the soft sound of your footsteps made them all turn their head to where you were on the stairs, your baby bump proudly peeking through harry's oversized shirt that you had on.

"oh," you shyly smiled. "hi guys." you didn't think they'd all be here, but there they were.

one by one they came up to you, hugging you and saying their hi's or hello's, asking how you were. and you'd reply with the same, you were doing good, more tired than usual, all that stuff.

whilst harry and simon carried the gifts and food bags to the living room, toby linked your arm with his as he walked you there, making sure you were sat comfortably before harry and simon joined.

harry, being attracted to you like a magnet, squished in next to you, his body on the edge of the sofa as you leant on him.

there was never a moment of silence when the boys came over, and like the listener you were, you loved it.

toby began to explain what each of the gifts were for, considering you didn't know the gender of the baby yet, most of then were just toys. but then again, with them being the slightly immature bunch if men they were, the toys were things like legos and nerf guns or huge dollhouses for toddlers.

"what the hell is a baby going to do with a nerf gun?" harry asked.

"i thought you of all people would like this gift," jj gasped, hand on his chest as he feigned hurt at harry's words.

"no, i'm just saying boys..." and there started the debate over suitable toys for children.

you turned to vik with a look that said 'help me' yet all he did was shrug.

"harry, a couple of months ago you would've been on board with this idea. y/n, what did you do to him?" ethan pointed a finger at you.

"what— me? he's right, a nerf gun's for toddlers, not babies!" you defended yourself.

harry's chest moved up and down as he laughed behind you, even more so at the way you groaned and his your face in your hands.

"i'm not ready for harry's mature era," simon commented.

"mature and harry don't belong in the same sentence," vik added.

"oh my days," harry mumbled as they launched into a new topic, harry's maturity level.

as they all introduced their own point, you just smiled and laughed along as you leant on your boyfriend, feeling even more excited for your baby to be welcomed into the family.

[4ranghaes]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd with plus size!reader

bnd ot6 x reader [separate classifications for each]

a/n - this was a selfish desire cause as a fat girly i have a lot of opinions, but also none of these really include insecure!reader maybe a couple of doubts but nothing major cause i HATE when it’s a plus size reader fic and it’s just them crying in the mirror😭

sungho🎀 [fluff, gender neutral!reader but wearing panties, suggestive, w: sungho’s clothes not fitting reader]

“baby please,” he repeated, his face pressed into your stomach, his hands gripping at your hips. he was on his knees between your legs as he begged.

you laughed, placing your hands on the sides of his head and picking it up so he was looking up at you, eyes full of pleading, “i can’t tonight, sungho!”

sungho whined, his head dropping back to your body. you chuckled, playing with his hair gently. so far, he’d been begging you to sleep round for almost 3 hours - to no avail.

“you have work tomorrow, i have lunch plans, and what the fuck would i even wear?!”

“you can wear my clothes!”

you glared down at your boyfriend. at your silence, he glanced up at you.

“what?!”

you laughed, placing your hands on his cheeks and squeezing his face together, his lips forming a pout, “you’re joking, right?”

sungho ignored your comment, whining again, “look. i have to go work at 8am. i’ll make sure you’re up when i am, a–and our driver can even drop you home, so you can start getting ready for lunch!”

you whined, sitting up on your elbows. he did plead a good case, especially as his fingertips ran up and down your sides gently. “sungho…” you started, before sighing, “okay fine. but that still doesn’t solve my pyjama problem!”

sungho cheered, placing his hands on your jaw and kissing you roughly, “thank you! thank you! …thank you.”

you smiled before he jumped up from the bed, rummaging through his drawers. he held up a t-shirt which you tilted your head at. sitting up on your knees, you grabbed the material out his hands and held it up to your body, hissing in contemplation.

“i don’t think so,” you laughed, the material barely even covering the width of your body. you giggled, teasing him, “this is a limited time offer, sungho, if you can’t find me something to wear i’m gonna have to leave.”

“one moment!”

he ran out the room, leaving you laughing to yourself as you heard him cluttering through the rail of clothes outside. “oversized… i need oversized!” you burst out laughing, sungho finally appearing back in the room holding several options of t-shirts and jumpers.

“eh?” he smiled, holding them up, offering them out to you. you hummed in deliberation, finally deciding on one of zico’s old oversized t-shirts he’d given your boyfriend during his trainee days.

“but what about pants?” you pouted, immediately taking off your top and bra, sungho biting his lip as he watched you pull the t-shirt over your head, before pulling your jeans down as well.

you got up, walking to sungho’s en-suite bathroom, ready to take your make-up off. sungho appeared behind you, as you looked up at his smirking face in the mirror.

“i mean… do you need those, really?” he hummed, hands resting on your hips, feeling over the material of your lacy panties. he leaned down, kissing the crook of your neck.

“sungho,” you grumbled, “i just agreed to sleeping over. don’t push it.” he looked up from your shoulder, catching your gaze in the mirror with an innocent look before flashing you a teasing smile.

riwoo🦦🍡 [fluff, gender neutral!reader, slightly suggestive, w: mentions of clothes shopping difficulties]

“woah, sweet, come look at this one,” riwoo called, beckoning you over with the casual nickname.

you looked up from your own rack of clothes, heading over to where your boyfriend stood. he pulled out one item in particular, motioning towards it with his other hand. you gasped, it was beautiful.

“ya– sanghyuk!” you whined, almost tearing up as you grabbed the material.

“go! go try it on,” he smiled, pushing you towards the changing rooms, the material still grasped tightly in your hands. the proud smile on his face juxtaposed the usual sorrowful one he had whenever the two of you went shopping, every potential item you saw just another one in a long line of ‘up to size L’ or, god forbid, ‘free size’.

his heart had broken to see your disappointed-but-trying-not-to-show-it face one too many times until he finally hunted out a plus size clothing shop with nice clothes for a change, too; hongdae. finally.

you pulled open the curtain of the changing room, riwoo being snapped back to reality at the sound of your voice.

“what do you think?”

he turned to you, breaking out in a smile. he opened his mouth to respond, though no words would come out. he bit his lip.

“what?” you laughed, nervously.

“you’re so beautiful,” he chuckled, walking forward and gripping onto the material before holding your waist instead, looking back up to your face, “what do you think?”

“i love it so much, sanghyuk-ie,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief, “thank you for finding this place.”

he shook his head, dismissing your comment. riwoo let go of your body, physically turning you to face the changing booth again.

“let’s put that in the buying pile and continue looking round, hmm?” he smiled, “there’s 3 floors!”

you squealed, pulling him into a hug as he smiled, rubbing your back. he pulled away, his lips remaining close to your ear as his hand trailed down to your ass, “plus the third is all lingerie.”

you pulled away to see your boyfriend raising his eyebrows suggestively at you, pulling a laugh from you, “get lost. but also we’re buying everything.”

jaehyun🪻🐕 [fluff, fem!reader, w: mentions of ex being weird with readers body, but jaehyun’s very touchy]

“my love!”

“jaehyun-ah!” you laughed, ending with a scream as you watched your boyfriend run into his bedroom, jumping onto the bed and onto you, who he gripped onto like a koala, crushing you with his weight. you groaned, laughing, “get off me!”

he giggled, his hair tickling you as he pressed his face into your neck, “ugh, you’re so comfy.”

you laughed, running a hand through his hair as you felt him relax into you, “myungjae, you need to wash first. you stink!”

jaehyun chuckled, sitting up and looking down at you, “shower with me?”

you scoffed, “no, absolutely not.”

“what?! why?!”

“cause you’re gonna wanna have sex and i am not having sex standing up with you,” you laughed, “just have a shower, horndog, then maybe we can have sex.”

jaehyun laughed, slightly embarrassed that his plan had been foiled as he trudged to the shower with a pout on his lips. when he came out, he was free of make-up on his face, his naturally darker skin shining through and his hair was dripping onto his bare chest; white towel hung round his waist.

he groaned as he walked out, “that was a good idea.”

“what?” you chuckled, peering up at him from where you lay, watching as he got dressed.

“not having you in the shower with me,” he smiled shyly, “i’m so tired. i don’t think i’ve ever needed cuddles more in my life.”

you smiled warmly, your boyfriend so prone to expressions of love through touch; but rarely admitting that he needed them. must be serious. “and who am i to deny that?!”

jaehyun giggled, moisturising his face quickly before climbing into his bed, basketball shorts and a hoodie over his body as he pulled the blanket over the two of you as well. he pulled your leg up over his body, his own leg wrapping round yours as he wrapped his arms around you. your head was nuzzling into his chest, his own resting atop yours. you couldn’t have been physically closer if you tried, but both of you continued to shift, as though trying to engulf each others’ bodies.

“you’re so beautiful, my girl,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head as his hands ran over your body. one ended up resting on your stomach, as it often did, the other on the swell of your hip, moving towards your ass.

you giggled, your hand placed firmly on his bicep as you peered up to his bare face, “says you. you’re so pretty, myungjae.”

he scoffed, trying to live up to his usual jokes and antics, but too tired to form any witty comeback; he just shook his head. his hand gripped onto your hip fat like a handle, the other resting under the swell of your stomach, cupping the fat in his hand.

“you’re the only person i let touch me like this,” you whispered, playing with the strings of his hoodie as you spoke the vulnerable words into the quiet room.

“really?”

you nodded, “i would have let my ex but he was weird about it. just held my waist instead.”

myungjae furrowed his eyebrows, tutting, “it’s not just about letting me, it’s my favourite place! when you wear lingerie for me? and the panties are like up here on your hips, framing your stomach? ugh, my girl, you’re the most beautiful person in the world.”

you giggled, pushing the hood of his hoodie off his head and placing your hands on the back of his neck, you pecked his lips gently, “thank you.”

jaehyun winked, before laughing. he pulled you closer, your face once again being buried in his chest as he kissed your forehead, “my girl.”

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛ [fluff, fem!reader, they’re ready for oasis fr, w: slightest insecure!reader, conscious of stomach in a tight dress, mentions of carrying reader]

“y/n, are you ready yet, we need to—”

taesan shut his mouth upon walking into your bedroom, his eyebrows shooting up as he took in the dress that hugged your body.

you screwed up your nose, staring in the mirror as you ran your hands over your thighs. you turned to taesan with a hum, “how’s this? i don’t know.”

“well,” he coughed, straightening himself back up, “first of all, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon. and second of all, i don’t ever want you to change out of that dress, let alone try other options now.”

you giggled, turning back to the mirror with a smile, “really?”

taesan pressed the door shut behind him, walking over and placing his hands on your hips, kissing your neck softly, his shaggy black hair tickling your collarbones.

“you’re so beautiful,” he hummed, moving his hands round to rest on your waist, running over the front of your thighs and your stomach as they went, “fuck me…”

you giggled, placing a hand on his face and turning to give him an awkwardly positioned kiss. he chuckled against your lips. stepping away from his body, taesan reached out for you once again, cupping your jaw in his large hands as he studied your face. you stared each other for a few moments before you broke the silence.

“is it not a bit formal for a concert?”

he chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut, “did you not hear what i just said?!” he stepped away, looking you up and down once again, whistling as he did so.

“are you comfortable?” he checked, as you nodded in reply, “what’s wrong then?”

“it’s a bit… revealing, no?” you hummed, running your hands over the material of the dress stretched over your body as you turned back to the mirror. the dress was pretty short, but not scandalously; the most scandalous thing the low neck line, showing off your tits, and the tight material, showing off all your curves.

taesan scoffed, his lips rolling with the noise, “and why do you think i like it so much?”

you rolled your eyes, sighing, “too booby?”

“is there such thing?”

“too stomach-y?”

taesan smiled, coming and wrapping his arms around you, his hands splayed over your stomach, “doesn’t exist to me. now come on! we can’t be late, i’ve been waiting for this concert my whole life.”

you smiled, nodding. no doubts were worth making late taesan for the event of his life. “okay i just need to put my shoes on.”

“put trainers on!” he exclaimed, walking round and gathering his last minute bits, “i’m not carrying you home because you wore inappropriate shoes.”

you scoffed, already pulling on your converse, flashing taesan a teasing smile as he watched from the bedroom door, “like you could carry me.”

leehan🪸🐠 [fluff, gender neutral!reader, heavily based around the way leehan gets whenever riwoo eats around him, also actually could be reader of any size but i just love the idea as a fat girl, w: eating, leehan observing reader eat]

“y/n! leehan! food's here,” myungjae's voice rang through the lower dorm. you smiled, getting up from where you lay against your boyfriend's body. he groaned, comfortable where he was.

“come on, angel,” you spoke, grabbing his hand and attempting to pull him up, “you haven't eaten anything apart from cereal and jellies all day.”

leehan laughed, finally getting up from the bed and following you out to the kitchen where the smell of tteokbokki and chicken filled both of your senses.

“thank you! i'll eat well!” sungho said loudly, helping himself to some chicken before moaning, “ugh, that's so good!”

you sat down opposite the two boys at the dinner table, leehan taking the seat next to you. you both thanked myungjae for getting the food before tucking in.

“wah,” leehan spoke, his mouth full of tteok, “y/n have some of this.”

you were munching on a piece of chicken as he took your plate, loading up the cheesy tteokbokki, sausages and fishcakes. you whined, “stop! i'm fine.”

“just eat,” leehan said, shoving the plate back to you.

you rolled your eyes, eating the food he'd loaded onto your plate before moaning too, “that's so good.”

“right?” leehan laughed, helping himself to another bit of chicken, his body was turned in your direction as he sat with a small smile on his face, watching you eat. he dropped the piece of chicken he was eating on his plate, picking up another and dipping it in the tteokbokki sauce before holding it up to your mouth. “here, try it with the sauce.”

“donghyun-ah—,” you laughed, as leehan rolled his eyes, grumbling.

“i'll be sad if you don't take it,” he teased, “you want to make me sad?”

jaehyun laughed from the other side of the table, “just let him feed you, y/n, you know what he’s like.”

you rolled your eyes while looking at jaehyun and sungho, the two boys chuckling at you and your boyfriend.

“do you want something else to eat after this?” leehan asked, unbothered by the spectators. he placed his cutlery on his plate, signalling that he, regardless of his words, was done eating.

“like what?” you asked, taking another piece of chicken after the tteokbokki had now been cleared by the four of you. jaehyun and sungho sniggered at leehan’s words as they cleaned up.

he shrugged, his hand going to the back of your neck, playing with the base of your hair, “dessert food?”

you eyed him shyly, as leehan laughed at your reaction, “i’ll order it.”

you shook your head, protesting loudly, “no! don’t! you’re not gonna eat any and you’re gonna make me eat it for you.”

leehan smiled, kissing your forehead as he watched you finish the chicken, “so? i like watching you eat. i don’t need to eat when i watch it.”

“eat, please,” you begged, picking up the last of the chicken and bringing it to his mouth. he laughed, eating it.

“so?” he asked, finishing his mouthful, “waffles?”

woonhak🧸 [fluff, fem!reader, w: talking of other girls & ideal body type, just pretty wholesome though]

“woah look at this,” you said, moving your phone closer to where your boyfriend sat next to you, blaring a video of a girl doing a dance similar to that you see a lot of from woonhak himself. “she’s so sexy.”

woonhak scoffed, nodding as he admired the video, “being able to dance certainly makes someone more attractive, huh? she’s not my type at all but she’s got charm to her there.”

you nodded, chuckling slightly before scrolling on. woonhak's words weighing on your brain.

“what is your type?” you finally hummed, putting your phone down on your lap and turning more to your boyfriend’s body; head on his shoulder, leg slung over his own. his arm naturally slung over your shoulder, peering down at you as your eyes shined up at him.

“hmm,” he paused, beginning to laugh slightly, “is this a trap?”

“no,” you rolled your eyes, “i know you love me, it’s not about that. i’m just curious. were you into chubby girls before?” your voice was teasing, as woonhak rolling his eyes back at you.

“why?” he retorted, eyeing you, before replying properly, “i don’t think i have a type, really.”

“you just said she’s not your type!” you laughed.

“okay,” he said, humming, “and what if i am into chubby girls, huh? hmm?”

he started tickling your waist as you wriggled to escape his touch, your body flailing on the bed as woonhak smiled down at you.

“get off!” you laughed, ending up panting on the bed next to him, his body caging you in as he leaned up on one arm.

“you’re the love of my life,” he said with complete seriousness, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “if you’re you, no matter what you look like, i’ll love you.”

you giggled, trailing your hands through woonhak's soft hair, as he kissed your lips softly. his hands moved down your body, his hand on your waist, then down to rest on your thigh.

“your body’s just a bonus,” he grinned, gripping at the fat of your hips before kissing you again as you giggled into his lips.

[sleepingdeath-light]

shadow milk cookie smut alphabet ; 18+

written as mostly gender neutral

also posted on ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

A — Aftercare

what they’re like after sex

Shadow Milk Cookie is extremely chatty and physically affectionate after the two of you have had sex — even more so if it happens to be later in the evening and he hasn’t had the chance to really spend time with you throughout the day. He goes from cuddling you while talking about his day, to tickling you while trying to get you to shower him in praise for being so good in bed, to smothering you in kisses until you’re having to push him away so you can catch your breath… it’s a lot, to say the least. And if you happen to need actual aftercare (say because you’re injured or because whatever play you were doing became a bit too much towards the end) then you’re going to have to very sternly tell him what to do because he’s pretty clueless when it comes to taking care of others… and pretty stubborn when it comes to getting what he wants (i.e. your attention), which can make the whole situation a bit of a pain.

B — Body Part

their favourite part of themselves and their partner

Funnily enough, he doesn’t actually have a ‘favourite’ part of himself and tends to just either be equally neutral or equally proud of everything. At a push he might say his hands because of all the incredible sounds he can pull from you with them… or he might say his mouth for the same reasons.

And he can’t quite seem to keep his hands off of…

[fem aligned] your chest! No matter what you’re wearing, and no matter what size your breasts actually are, you’ll never go longer than a minute or so in your boyfriend’s presence without him sneakily (or not so sneakily) groping your chest. He’ll sneak his hands under your shirts or under the neckline of your dresses, he’ll feel you up over your sleepwear and absentmindedly play with your nipples as you try to fall asleep, he’ll use his hands as your personal bra when you’re topless around the house and giggle in response to any lighthearted complaints you utter — and don’t even get me started on how much he loves to mark up your chest…

[neutral] your ass! Flat or round, soft or firm, either way you will never know peace around Shadow Milk Cookie. It’s like his hand is permanently glued to your backside: shamelessly feeling you up as you stand by his side, sliding into your back pocket and just holding you when you’re out and about, smacking and pinching you when he passes by just to make you squirm, spanking you during sex when he gets really into the moment, etc., etc. And that’s not even to mention all of the shameless staring he does when you wear something even slightly more tight-fitted than an oversized sack… or all of the comments he makes about sitting on his face and how good you look when he’s fucking you from behind. Fiend.

[masc aligned] your thighs! Hairy or shaved/waxed clean, thick or more slender, muscular or plush, Shadow Milk Cookie isn’t too fussed about the specifics of how your thighs look as long as he gets to feel them clamping down on his head when he goes down on you… or locked around his waist when he’s fucking you… or flexing underneath him when he’s riding them… yeah. Not picky at all as long as they’re yours. Just be careful about wearing anything that shows off your thighs because he gives zero fucks about social propriety and will either just straight up start marking you up then and there, or he’ll drag you somewhere else to show you just how much he appreciates the view.

C — Cum

anything about cum

He absolutely loves the way you look with his cum splattered all over your face and dripping down onto your bare chest, don’t get him wrong, but more than anything else he really fucking loves going down on you and swallowing his cum as it drips out of your hole(s). Call him depraved all you like, but at least he’s honest about it!

D — Dirty Secret

what’s their dirty secret?

Shadow Milk Cookie has, on several occasions, taken your dirty underwear out of the clothes hamper and used it to get himself off. You’ve not caught him yet, but if you do he’ll have no qualms about inviting you to join him or putting on a more elaborate show for your viewing pleasure — the man’s nothing if not shameless, after all.

E — Experience

how experienced are they?

He has a decent amount of experience simply because of how old he is and how many partners he’s had in the past, but it’s probably quite a bit less than you might have expected from someone like him.

F — Favourite Position

what’s their favourite position?

Any and all — as long as he’s inside of you, or vice versa, he’s not super picky about what position you’re in and, in fact, tends to go with whatever position best suits the scene you’re acting out together.

G — Goofy

are they more serious or playful during sex?

As one might have guessed from his ‘jester’ aesthetic and general demeanour, Shadow Milk Cookie is someone who leans into a goofier/sillier persona in the bedroom (and when it comes to your relationship in general, honestly). Sometimes this can mean him randomly cracking jokes when he’s fucking you into the mattress, other times it can mean him setting up an elaborate prank to catch you off guard and make you laugh during foreplay, and occasionally it can result in him getting distracted and stopping entirely to craft an impromptu performance that will leave you baffled, bemused, and a little bit frustrated, but no matter what it’s all so authentically him that you can’t stay mad at him for long.

H — Hair

how well groomed are they?

While most of his body hair is pretty fine, there is a decently thick trail of it leading from his bellybutton down to a large dark blue patch at the base of his shaft. He also doesn’t see any real point in trimming it so he lets it grow wild (unless, of course, you politely ask him to cut it a bit shorter for whatever reason).

I — Intimacy

how romantic are they?

Shadow Milk Cookie isn’t really a romantic person in general, and that doesn’t change when it comes to how he acts in the bedroom. Sure, he’ll keep the mood light and make sure you’re comfortable in his own way, but don’t expect him to bring out the scented candles and rose petals any time soon.

J — Jack Off

anything about masturbation

He has an exceptionally high libido, meaning that when he’s not trying to fuck you dumb (or begging you to suck him dry) he’s usually taking out his frustrations on his poor fist or some carefully crafted copy of you that he made with his own magic. It’s usually pretty rushed as he prefers to finish as soon as possible so he can get back to whatever it was he was doing, but it’s always just what he needs to get the job done — perfectly messy, perfectly rough, perfectly tight, and more than enough to have him giggling through his orgasm as he makes a complete and utter mess of whatever he was using to get off.

K — Kinks

some of their kinks

Having spent so long in complete isolation and imprisonment, Shadow Milk Cookie was quick to start experimenting with you and trying to spice up your sex life. These experiments were a mixture of incorporating things he already knew he enjoyed and trying new things as a couple that you both ended up enjoying and making a part of your routines. A small selection of the things he enjoys is as follows:

Role Play — it shakes things up, keeps things interesting, appeals to his love of theatre, and gives him an excuse to show off his natural talents and magical capabilities to you… what’s not to love?

Pet Name Kink — this goes hand-in-hand with his love for role play as the use of different pet names and titles can make the scene feel more realistic for you both (but he will absolutely tease the shit out of you if he notices a certain title [daddy/mommy, master/mistress, etc.] start to slip into your sessions more regularly)

Bondage — he has no real preference about who between you ends up being restrained, but he can’t deny hot it is to see you all tied up and getting for mercy during your scenes together

Fighting for Dominance / Power Struggles — while he does have a strong dominant lean in the bedroom and usually ends up taking control during sex, shadow milk cookie is still a switch at heart and can enjoy the occasional fight for control (which usually means you trying to earn the right to dominate him while he acts like a terrible brat… while abiding by whatever rules you set for him, mostly)

Public Sex — the man has approximately zero shame, loves taking risks, and has spent eons trapped in a goddamn tree of all things, so no he doesn’t give a shit if people happen to catch the two of you having sex, and neither should you! (he will knock it off if you have any genuine objections, but he will be incredibly pouty about you turning him down)

L — Location

what’s their favourite place to have sex?

He has absolutely no preference for where the two of you are when you’re having sex. Like he’s just as content to fuck you against the ceiling of your bedroom as he is to be pegged in a public park, or to go down on you just out of sight of the people hunting him — as long as he gets to have you in one way or another, he couldn’t give less of a shit about your location.

M — Motivation

what turns them on?

Pretty much everything you do is a turn on for Shadow Milk Cookie in one way or another, in fact it may just be easier to list out the things that don’t turn him on. That being said, surprising him with an opening prompt for some role play after a long day is always guaranteed to get him in the mood.

N — No

what are some of their hard limits?

There are very few things that he’s totally unwilling to compromise on at least once or twice for you, but sharing you happens to be one of them. Others can look at you all they want — at the pictures he carries around, through recordings he sends to others with your consent, and at you if they happen to catch the two of you having sex — but he refuses to let them touch you. You’re his and that’s the one line he will not cross.

O — Oral

anything about oral

Shadow Milk Cookie is someone who finds equal enjoyment out of giving oral as he does receiving it, particularly if both are happening at the same time, and he’s always very vocal about how much fun he’s having regardless of what role he’s filling at the time.

When he goes down on you, he’s shameless and really fucking messy. He bites down on your inner thighs and lower stomach until you’re bleeding and eagerly licks the wounds clean. He spits on you before licking you clean of his saliva, your blood, and your [pre-cum / slick]. He makes a point to be noisy as he pleasures you: sucking and slurping and groaning and moaning like you’re a delicacy he can’t get enough of, before pulling back and giggling as he asks you questions that you’re too lightheaded to even begin to comprehend. He makes a game out of your pleasure: alternating between dangling your release in front of you until you’re teary-eyed and begging, and overstimulating you with orgasm after orgasm until you’re shaking in his arms, not stopping until you’re either cumming dry or squirting depending on what you’re physically capable of. And when he finally pulls away, face wet with cum and blood and spit all the way from his chin up to his eyelashes, he loves nothing more than pulling you into an even messier kiss and having to taste yourself on his lips and tongue. How delightfully depraved!

When you go down on him, he’s both extremely vocal and extremely rough. He doesn’t shut up when you have your lips wrapped around his cock: complimenting you, praising you, flirting with you, degrading you, giving instructions, moaning and groaning and whimpering like a pornstar, and giggling every time his tip hit the back of your throat — an endless stream of words that are difficult to keep track of when you’re trying your best not to choke or gag on his dick, but what little you do catch never fails to leave you squirming and desperate to reach a hand down between your own legs to take care of yourself while you suck him off. He’s also a big fan of face fucking over regular blowjobs, if only because he thinks you look so much hotter with tears streaming down your face and a mixture of cum and saliva leaking out of the corners of your mouth as he uses you for his own pleasure, but he’ll take what he can get if it means feeling your tongue on his sensitive tip again. Oh, and his balls are remarkably sensitive so playing with those as you go down on him is a pretty effective way to have him stumbling over his words and struggling not to thrust his hips up into your mouth.

P — Pace

fast or slow? gentle or rough?

He usually prefers to fuck you hard and fast, which has led to many broken bed frames in the past, but he does have his moments where he’ll drift towards something slower and more gentle. Either because he’s feeling particularly sentimental for some reason (or trying to avoid actually injuring you after being too rough the night before), or because he wants to draw things out for as long as possible to get you to beg for him — what an ass.

Q — Quickies

what is their opinion about quickies?

Between his insanely high libido and his addiction to you, it almost goes without saying that Shadow Milk Cookie is a big fan of quickies. Granted quickies are usually reserved for the times when you’re not quite up for proper sex and, thus, mostly consist of you sucking him off or slipping a hand under his pants to stop him from becoming too obnoxious, but he’s certainly not going to complain and is happy to take whatever you’ll give him.

R — Risk

are they willing to experiment?

Shadow Milk Cookie loves to experiment with you and, as far as he’s concerned, the riskier something is the more exciting it is. Bonus points if you decide to mix in some role play with your experimenting (e.g predator-prey with cnc, knife play, and breath play), but as long as you’re having fun he’s not too bothered about that.

S — Stamina

how long can they last?

Being as powerful of an entity as he is — one of the five beasts, no less — it almost goes without saying that Shadow Milk Cookie has exceptional stamina. More than enough to last as long as you want go for at any given time, and then some (but, of course, he’s not completely insane and tends to stop whenever he notices you getting too overstimulated… so somewhere between rounds 5 and 7 depending on the day).

T — Toys

do they own any toys? would they use them?

He didn’t own any sex toys before meeting you for a number of (pretty obvious) reasons, but after you introduce him to the concept he’s immediately going out of his way to collect as many interesting looking toys as he possibly can. He’ll end up amassing all sorts of toys if you don’t keep him in check — toys that vibrate, suck, shock, burn, chill, blind, stretch, fuck, and more — and you can guarantee that every new purchase will come with the promise of a long day of experimentation as the two of you figure out exactly how to make use of the newish addition to your collection.

U — Unfair

do they like to tease/be teased?

Shadow Milk Cookie is, if nothing else, a complete sadomasochist that loves to be driven to the absolute limit in the bedroom, and to drive you to yours in return, so it pretty much goes without saying that he loves to tease and be teased. Want to dominate him? Just deny his orgasm over and over again until he breaks and submits to you completely, keep him dangling over the edge until there are tears in his eyes and he’s only able to beg and plead for you to give him what he needs, and then ruin his orgasm after all of that just to put him back in his place, and he’ll love every second of it. And don’t even get me started on how much he leans into humiliation and edging when he’s the one in charge…

V — Vocal

how loud are they?

The only way you’re getting this man to shut up is if you physically gag him and threaten him with a sex ban if he uses his magic to ungag himself. He just… really likes the sound of his own voice and has no intention of shutting up. Ever.

W — Wild Card

a random nsfw headcanon for the character

On the rare occasion where he gets jealous of someone, he’ll go out of his way to orchestrate a situation where they’ll walk in on the two of you having sex. He has literally zero shame and will look up at them just long enough to lock eyes and give them the most shit eating grin he can muster before returning his attention to you once they’ve finally regained their senses and fled the scene. Needless to say you usually don’t end up seeing much of the person in question after that (they’ve learned their lesson, after all, and most people don’t want to risk further pissing off a powerful entity like Shadow Milk Cookie if they can help it).

X — X-Ray

what do they look like under their clothes?

While he is quite a bit longer than average — and longer still when he’s fully erect — Shadow Milk Cookie’s dick is made much easier to take by the fact that it’s also pretty slender. It’s a tad more bulbous at the tip, but nowhere near enough to make it a painful stretch when he enters you, and the few prominent veins that run along the length are only really noticeable when they happen to drag against the spots inside of you that make you see stars — so while his cock is certainly impressive, it’s not going to cause you any pain unless something goes severely wrong during sex.

Y — Yearning

how high is their libido?

Shadow Milk Cookie’s libido is incredibly high and he rarely goes more than a half hour or so in your presence without propositioning you at least once or twice. That being said, he’s self aware enough to recognise that you probably don’t have as high of a sex drive as him so he’s not expecting you to tend to his needs every time — it would be nice if you did, of course, but his own hand and his vivid imagination are decent enough substitutes for him.

Z — Zzzz

how quickly do they fall asleep after sex?

It’s 50/50 whether or not he’ll actually fall asleep on any given night, and even then it tends to take him a while to actually drift off. So it can take anywhere from a few hours to a few days (or more if he’s really caught up with something).

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 1

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

-🐺-

The sky was dark and sheeted in heavy fog by the time that Ghost had finally come for you. It was the first time you’d seen the man in the skull mask, but not the first you’d heard of the name of his Captain. Your ears twitched at the familiarity as he spoke it, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your battered back. 

“I’m here on behalf of Captain John Price, he called ahead about the hybrid.”

You’d lifted your numb head from the concrete floor when you realised you recognised that name, painfully craning your neck just to see who’d spoken it. You tried to work the stiffness from your muscles, popping joints and rolling them as far as your bounds would allow. Water was tumbling off you like a dam all the while, creating little murky puddles all around you. Despite the flimsy tin roof above, the rain had been relentlessly blown onto you for most of the day.

As usual it was your fault you were suffering, you knew well enough you could’ve avoided the punishment. You could’ve chosen to suck up your pride. Though as your mind cycled back through the day, you wondered if maybe it was all inevitable. Perhaps they pushed you as a way of giving a last sordid goodbye gift. 

A morning lashing followed by the announcement that you were being transferred to an unnamed team, being sent off to pack up your meagre possessions, finished off by a full day tied up and abandoned on the floor of the outdoor kennels. Somewhere through the first few hours of being left there you’d begun to feel a tiny spark of anticipation at the idea of being taken away. You’d wondered if things might be better somewhere else. 

However when the mysterious man strode into your line of vision, you were right back to feeling hopeless. Every inch of the unyielding cold was digging it’s way into your aching bones, but even through that you were shivering now at the idea of being taken away by him. He was a giant, all shadows and wide angles, black cloth with a stab of white around his face. You fixed your sights onto his mask and felt your teeth almost shatter as you realised it was a skull. Was this big terrifying bastard your new handler? 

“Ah, yes…Lieutenant,” there was an awkward pause, the handler clearly felt much the same as you about the behemoth. “Just over there. You’ll have to fill out some paperwork before you leave with it, but you can have a look first and decide if you want to finalise the decision.”

The man nodded and gave a grunt, his eyes narrowing at the mention of paperwork. Oh great, you thought, he’s pissed off and now he’s about to come meet me. There was no escape from him though. You were completely trapped, hands bound tightly behind your back with thick corded rope and legs similarly tied. There was nothing for it, but to wait for him to realise that the pathetic wolf staring up at him was the one he was getting stuck with. 

“This wolf’s been serving out the last of its punishment today,” the handler said, running a nervous hand over his stubbly blonde head. 

You glared at him, throat tightening as you valiantly repressed a growl. He’d always been an asshole to you right from the very start, he revelled in the chance to pull you down a peg or twelve, and that day he’d really outdone himself. He’d hit you with the leather strap until his veins were popping out of his ridiculously oversized arms and then he’d sneered all the way through tying you down for the day. He’d been taking particular joy in telling you ‘act like a bitch, get treated like a bitch’ before leaving you stuck there.

While most soldier hybrids were treated comparatively well, given the nature of the work you did, the base personnel took particular exception to you. Right from the very start, from the day you’d been dumped there as a mere child you’d been marked as the black sheep and there wasn’t a single day that you weren’t reminded of your lack of favour. You’d arrived a shitty kid with a chip on their shoulder and come through it a shell of that past self, never quite escaping the claws of your contentious past.

You were thinking about just how many times you’d been left to rot in that exposed kennel when you finally locked gazes with the Lieutenant. You wondered how he’d see you through those cold unblinking eyes as they peered at you through the front bars. Would he want to hurt you too? 

Of course he would, you thought, they all do. 

“Why’re they tied like that? What sort of punishment is this?”

You jumped at the harshness of his tone. There was a knife edge drawn in it, meant to preface an attack. 

“It’s our version of a time out. Although with the amount this one’s been in here it’s more like a permanent residence.”

You huffed out a breath, watching as the man puffed up his chest. A useless inflatable shield. He wasn’t going to fold and pretend that he wasn’t being harsher than normal to you. He was quite happy to let the other man believe that you were deserving of the treatment. In fairness you had bitten him not long after you’d come back from your last mission, you’d been out of patience and he’d crumpled the last straw in your back. 

“And how long has this timeout been?”

The way the Lieutenant spat the word, it dripped into your ears like venom. You winced as you watched him fold his arms and openly glared at the handler now, sending the other man stuttering backwards a foot or two. 

“Only a half day, Lieutenant,” the handler faltered. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you trying to kill them before they go? What are we meant to do with a half drowned wolf, eh? Its been raining all day, they’re soaked and shiverin’ like a fuckin’ newborn, how the hell do you justify that?”

“You have to appreciate that this is a-”

“I don’t have to appreciate anything. Get that door open now!” the Lieutenant ordered, interrupting the fumbling mess in front of him. 

The handler visibly paled and suddenly thought better of trying to justify his work. He shakily got to work rattling his keys into the door, and yelped when the masked man shouldered past him, staying firmly planted outside while your cell was invaded. 

You whined when his shadow descended on you and tried to pull away, attempting to try and get into a better position to fend off any attacks. However he was on you before you could so much as shift a muscle. 

His gloved hands were quick to undo the knots keeping you pinned down and even quicker to trap you to the ground when he noticed you squirming and splashing your hands through puddles just to get away from him. It was like being held by a stone statue. He was relentless, keeping you pasted down to the floor before dragging you against him and rubbing those solid hands of his up and down your sides, willing your circulatory system to jump into a sprint. 

Your energy was too busy being directed to your head though. The jolt of human touch was nothing like you were used to, and knowing who it was coming from was enough to send you into overdrive. His warm hands and rough voice left impressions up your spine and in your head, his scent burned in your lungs. Notes of spicy orange peel and gunmetal wafted around your head, somewhere faintly you swore you detected traces of cigar smoke.

Suddenly you were thrown back to being sent out on a mission with Price, he wasn’t so bad to work for, he’d treated you well enough and even gotten some food for you afterward. It made you wonder if maybe the big man he’d sent wasn’t so bad too. Not that you’d treat him as anything other than a threat for the time being of course. 

“You with us, darlin’?”

You jumped when you realised he was finally talking to you. Your eyes connected with his, landing on those stormy blue irises before you let loose a growl. You couldn’t help it this time. Your body was kicking into its usual instincts in lieu of having any idea of how to act. Those same instincts had you flinching straight after, waiting for the retaliation. 

“None of that now,” the man chastised softly, “C’mon, stop your growlin’. You’ve gotta warm up, pup, don’t fight me.” 

Where most handlers would have slapped you or kicked you or even cuffed you round your big fluffy ears for all the noise you’d made, this man didn’t even huff at you. He just continued to rub your arms and legs and tried to coax the curl out of your shaking tail. Your usually silvery fur was drenched into a damp grey and clung wetly to his gloves as he ran his hands through it.

“Leave my tail alone!” you snarled, finally breaking free of the spell you were under. 

Your tail had been snapped and broken enough times that it was stuck permanently lopping to the right. You weren’t going to let him do any worse to it. You attempted to twist and break yourself out of his hold but the man was steadfast in keeping you locked against him. His hands fastened to your waist and back and unfortunately pressed harshly against a big welt that scorched you as soon as his fingers pressed there. You howled out a scream in response.

“Hey! Hey, easy now. Stop, I’m not trying to hurt you. Keep still. Easy!”

As if you’d listen to him. You thrashed about to no avail, breathing harshly as you fought through the bubble of anxiety that enveloped you. Your lungs were working so hard to pump that you distantly worried they might explode. Every cell in your body struggled against the masked man, but no matter what you did you weren’t a match for him in your weakened state. 

“Fuck sake, stop standing there being useless and get me a towel,” the Lieutenant shouted over you, calling over to the handler. 

“You actually want it?” The handler questioned, his face a picture of horror as he watched you screaming like a banshee against your prospective new leader. 

“Well I’m not leaving them here to freeze, am I? Get me that towel and tell your superiors to mail the paperwork, we’re leaving.”

“It’s not standard policy to-”

“It's not standard policy for me to rip your spine out your throat, but I just might do it,” Ghost threatened. “Go!”

…

You’d been bundled into a car not long after that, pinned fast to the Lieutenant’s front like a half-dead butterfly. After struggling for a good ten minutes with him, wrestling to keep the towel off you, you finally gave in. Being so good as to allow him to wrap you up and dry you off, roughly sweeping the fabric over the worst of your drowned tail, ears and hair before situating you in the back next to him. The driver started the car and got to moving without a word.

You sat ruefully folding your arms over the soaked towel, hair and fur poking in all directions, watching as your old base faded to a pin prick in the distance. The smell of your damp clothes drying was turning the air stale, but you could hardly focus on that as your mind tried to make sense of everything that had happened. That and your smarting back as it burned against the hard cushioning of your seat. 

Meanwhile the Lieutenant’s voice was a gruff murmur as he spoke to his Captain, he was quietly updating him on the situation. You didn’t really bother to listen, ears pinned to the back of your head as you tried to figure out how to proceed with your new and strange circumstances. 

Most hybrids would eventually be chosen to permanently join teams, but there’d never been any interest for you before. Plenty of Captains would praise your skills and openly admire the work you did, but you were very purposefully told after every time that they’d take a look at your disciplinary file and go running for the hills. It made you wonder what Price had seen in you. You weren’t even convinced you’d been that impressive given you were only assigned to him for a tracking mission. You hadn’t even brought anyone down or had to push yourself very hard at all, you’d only needed to locate his man and report back. 

“Hey Ghost, should I turn up the heat?” 

Your eyes flashed to the rearview mirror, catching eyes with the driver that had broken the silence. He watched you back unflinching. Ghost? You turned and faced the man next you, tilting your head when he looked up at the driver. 

Was his name really Ghost? 

“Your wolf’s shaking,” the driver continued. 

You locked eyes with Ghost again, feeling your heartbeat more than you’d ever had in your life. It felt like it’d been locked in a cage barely big enough to fit. Your tail curled when he ended his call and turned his attention solely on you.

Interrupting the higher ups was never a good thing. You gulped. 

“You still cold, pup?” He asked softly. 

You frowned at him, feeling your ears peek up at the repeated use of the nickname. You were long past being a ‘pup’ anymore. Though for some reason it didn’t feel as patronising as it should’ve. 

“I’ll be fine, sir,” you said, answering stiffly. 

“Didn’t ask if you’d be fine, I asked if you were cold.”

You flinched at his words, already knowing you must be drawing out his ire. It wouldn’t be long before had you back at whatever base he was taking you to and was tying you up to a disciplinary post, you thought grimly. In most cases you knew you could bear the punishment and would quite happily spurn him, but knowing the full size of Ghost you weren’t so sure you’d walk away quite as well as normal from that one. 

You thought carefully before answering him again. 

“I am a little cold, sir,” you shrugged. 

He nodded and motioned for the driver to go ahead and soon the car was filled with warmth, your shaking subsided but didn’t cease. It wasn’t all due to the cold. 

To make matters worse that wasn’t the end of the interaction with Ghost either. Now that he was off the phone he was giving you a proper look over. It felt as if he were assessing every inch of you while you stared back at him, willing yourself to keep your eyes from naturally casting down. Did you measure up to his expectations? 

“Are you ok?” he asked, breaking the bubble of silence that had enveloped you. 

You frowned. What did he care?

“Fine, sir?” 

“Are you asking me if you’re fine?” he snorted. 

You could see the twinkle of a smirk in his eyes. The corners were pulling upwards and you swore you caught a twitch of a smile behind the black material of his lower mask. 

“Do you care either way?” you asked, raising your brows at him. 

He lost his smile at that. 

“I appreciate honesty, pup.”

That was it. He snapped the tether to the tiny frightened wolf inside of you that begged you not to antagonise him and finally, you felt brave enough to push. The real animal inside was allowed to bark and howl uncontrolled. 

“I’m being taken away to god knows where by Mr.Bonejangles and now he’s asking me to be honest with him after I’ve spent the whole day out in the elements with a whipped back. How do you think I’m doing?” you growled.

Now that the heat was properly thawing you out, you were feeling every ounce of your irritability spark to life. Even while you waited for some kind of reprimand, you held firm through your tensed muscles. If he hit you then you would do everything not to flinch from it. 

Test me, asshole. Just do it. You won’t see me break.

He didn’t lash out at you though, he’d already proved he wasn’t like your handlers at your base, but this more than confirmed it. Instead he took a breath and kept his measured gaze on you, letting you know that he was perfectly in control of the situation. 

“My name’s Ghost. I’m taking you down to London, and you’re going to join the 141 with me as your handler. You’re going to be serving under John Price, you did a mission with him and Kyle Garrick about a month back. Do you remember them?” Ghost said, his voice even and clear. 

You blinked back at him, not even bothering to hide your surprise that he’d wanted to give you answers to the questions you clearly had. Now you were truly curious. It wasn’t often that anyone bothered to fill you in on what was happening, you were usually expected to just accept whatever happened and to keep quiet even if you couldn’t. Ghost actually wanted you to talk to him.

“Price is the one with the dodgy beard. And Garrick… he’s called Gaz right? The Sergeant?” you said slowly, still not quite believing you were being engaged with. 

Ghost huffed out a laugh. 

“That’s right. You’ll see them again in the morning, and you’ll get to meet Sergeant MacTavish as well. For tonight all you gotta worry about is getting clean and fed and having a decent night’s sleep. We’ve got a few hours till we get to the base though, so for now you can ask me whatever you like.”

You tilted your head at him and immediately got to work testing this new boundary of yours. Your ears were perked up like antennas as your brian buzzed with activity. You’d never been in a position to ask whatever you’d liked before. 

“Why’re you wearing that mask?” 

He rolled his eyes at that, causing you to shrink back. Ok, so maybe you weren’t really going to get to ask whatever you liked. 

“Gotta hide how handsome I am,” he said, leaning back in his chair and giving you an amused side eye.

You snorted at that and unclenched your hands, letting your sharp nails come away from the chair before it tore. A smile even curled its way onto your lips. 

“Not because you’re an ugly bastard then?” 

“Negative.”

You snorted again.

“So lets see, I apparently have a model handler and a new and very experienced team that I have the honour of being express delivered to. You’re letting me speak more than any of those bastards ever did in a whole day and you’ve not punished me once yet. I can’t help but wonder why you’d choose me for this, especially after you saw me back there,” you said, pursing your lips as if you might come to any conclusions on your own. “Anyone would tell you I’m a liability, but you still took me anyway. Why?”

Ghost raised his brows under the mask, the blackout makeup below shifted and you swore you could make out some of his exposed pale skin out of the corners. You watched him intently, trying to make out any hint of insincerity or anger where there was none. 

“Price said you were good. I trust his instincts.”

“No questions asked?”

“None,” he confirmed.

“Even after seeing my disciplinary record?”

“It raised a few eyebrows on the team, but Price was happy enough with what he saw on the field that he wanted you as long as I did too. And like I said, I trust him,” he sighed when he met your eyes and you still weren’t convinced. “Besides, your record’s a shit show from base but you’ve been getting consistently solid reports back for the last ten years you’ve been getting sent out. I’m willing to bet that that stunning display of incompetence I saw earlier was probably a good indicator of why you’ve not been performing very well at home.”

“Stunning display of incompetence,” you repeated, not able to help the bark of laughter you let loose afterward. 

“Exactly, pup,” Ghost smiled.

You felt something inside you dislodge, like a brick had come out of the fortress you’d built around yourself. While you weren't rushing to fawn over your new handler, but you were willing to offer him more than just your contemptible obedience. Something about that sent a small shiver down your back, but even still you were able to lie back in the chair and let it leave you. 

You didn’t have it in you to ask anymore questions after that. Your head was an overspilling cup already, you didn’t want to drown yourself with anymore knowledge. So instead you let the easy silence take over and looked off into the distance, watching with heavy lids as the car tore through fields and towns in equal measure. 

Your eyes kept closing in a series of syrupy slow blinks, one second you were driving through a hedgeway of trees and the next you were in open blue fields of sky darkened wheat. Somewhere down the line your eyes closed for the final time and you gently arrived into a dreamless sleep, letting the darkness and warmth envelop your aching body. 

…

You had the feeling that you were being lifted. The sudden shift in the air from warm to cold paired with the sensation of being jostled was enough to tip you over the edge of consciousness. In seconds you were looking for something to attack. 

Your eyes snapped open and you went in for a bite, just about to close your teeth around an arm when that same appendage snapped back and fastened your neck against a hard wall of muscle behind you. You growled and panicked, heart hammering and body struggling in a flash of snapping canines and flailing limbs. 

“Hey! Stop your nonsense.”

You stilled at the words, instantly recognising the rough manc accent that they’d come from. You breathed a little and came back to yourself, remembering that you weren’t at your old base anymore and you weren’t being captured by an enemy either. You were being taken somewhere new, not a base or a prison or a kennel, you were being brought toward a bungalow. 

“Where are we?” you asked feebly, frowning at your unfamiliar surroundings. 

“Just outside the base, darlin’,” Ghost rumbled. “This is my home, for now.”

“Why are you taking me to your house?”

You angled yourself against Ghost’s tight hold and frowned up at him, searching his face for any sign of bad intention. You’d invaded houses as part of your job, but never had you stayed inside one since you’d lived with your family. You couldn’t understand why he’d want you to live with him when you knew as well as he did that there were specialised barracks for hybrids in every military base. Why would he want his work invading his personal space? 

“I don’t want you staying at the base until you’re more settled,” Ghost said, pulling one of his hands from you so that he could get his keys out his pocket. “You can choose to stay there if you want after the first few weeks, but until then you’re staying here with me.”

Your ears flickered as the loud jingling of his keys rattled through them and you whined, oversensitive and overtired. He let his remaining arm relax around you and held you close to his chest, shushing you all the while. His spicy aroma filled your senses again and you let your whines die down to low whimpers, hoping that he’d just put you down and leave you alone soon. 

“Sh, It’s ok, pup. I know it’s been a long day, but I just need you to hold on a little longer, alright?”

You nodded and let him carry you through the doorway and down a dark hallway, setting you down on a cool tiled floor before turning on the light. You glanced up at him sheepishly and blinked furiously at the bright blue bulb, having to rub your eyes before you could properly check out your surroundings. Once you rubbed the sleep from them you realised you were in a bathroom.

“You think you can shower yourself and get changed into something for bed?” he asked. “I can run you a bath and help you wash if you need?”

“No, shower’s fine,” you said quickly, not wanting to go through any further humiliation.

“Good, I’ll leave your things for you here and let you get on with it then,” he said, setting down the hold all you’d packed just next to you. “There’s a clean towel there on the rail for you, the blue one. Once you’re clean and changed you can come to the kitchen and get some dinner. It’s just at the end of the hall.”

You checked to your right and sure enough there was a clean fluffy towel waiting right on the heated rail for you. Ghost nodded and took himself out of the room, closing the door with a soft snick and leaving you alone for the first time since he’d picked you up. 

You shivered and chanced a look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, quickly averting your eyes when you realised just how pathetic you looked. Your hair was a mess, your fur was thick with matts and your skin was plastered with dirt. You were a sore sight. You growled at yourself for getting into such a state and stalked into the joint bath and shower, not bothering to wait for the water to heat before yanking the shower on. 

Cold water jetted out and shocked you into awareness, drawing out another low whine until it started to heat up, letting you properly set to work washing all the filth away. There were a couple of bad matts that came out in thick clumps, but other than that you were glad for the shower, pleasantly surprised by how warm it could go. The heat bled through your skin and into your tired muscles and before long you were just standing there enjoying the water, already done with washing yourself. 

You didn’t want to push your luck though. So with an unwilling jostle from your survival instincts you turned the shower off and got yourself out, not wanting to risk Ghost barging in and asking what was taking you so bloody long.

Soon enough you were finding out that being wrapped in one of Ghost’s towels was also quite pleasant. These weren’t anything like the raggedy old towels from your base, like the one sitting sadly discarded on the floor, no these were warm and soft on your skin. Where the other towel scratched this one soothed and you found yourself smiling, feeling your tail wag as you found comfort in the gentle material and lingering orange scented steam. 

Again, you couldn’t stay like that forever. So you dug through the clothes in your bag until you found an old pair of sweats and tugged those on, taking care to gently pull your tail through the specially stitched opening that had long been fraying with age, and then shrugged on a baggy t-shirt afterwards. Finally you were ready and able to go see Ghost. 

You put your towel back on the rail and neatly piled your dirty things in the corner as you weren’t sure what to do with them, then marched from the bathroom and down the hall, depositing your bag outside the doorway. It wasn’t hard to pick out Ghost’s scent even in his own house, even as you now smelled like him after using his Soap. His aroma now mingled with the smell of chicken and chips and your mouth watered as you came into the room, fixing your eyes on where Ghost now stood. He was leaning over a hot oven, pulling out half a rotisserie chicken and a tray of golden brown chips just as you’d walked through the threshold. 

“How was your shower?”

You raised your brows, still taken aback by how much he cared about your feelings and opinions on things. 

“Good, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir when we’re not on base,” Ghost said, throwing you a glance over his shoulder. 

You’d noticed that he’d dressed down since coming home. He’d shed his layers and changed out of his soaked clothes into a pair of jeans and black tee, wearing a black balaclava over his face instead of his skull mask. However you realised when he fully turned around with the plated food that it still had a skull painted over it. Cute. 

“Here, I’ve just heated up some leftovers for tonight. Nothing great, but try to eat up, you’ll need energy for tomorrow.”

“This is all for me?”

You frowned when he set the plate in front of you and looked up wide eyed. He was selling it like it was crap, but it was miles better than the tinned slop they served you on the base. This was fresh, this was the type of stuff you got as a treat when you were sent away on deployments. The crispy chicken skin was already tearing through the teeth of your imagination, your mouth watered at the thought of the sensation. Even knowing it was a little shrivelled from overcooking it was still going to be one of the tastiest meals you’d eaten in a while. Some small part of you wondered if it was all some kind of trick. 

“Yeah, all yours, pup. C’mon eat up, then off to bed,” Ghost urged, giving you shoulder a small squeeze. 

You shrunk from him, but successfully resisted the urge to snap. You couldn’t lash out after how nice he’d been, so you begrudgingly had to allow him the unnecessary physical contact. Putting it out your head, you instead lowered your head to your plate and gathered up your fork, ready to wildly stab at the bits of chicken and crispy chips. You could feel your tail swishing behind you, though even in present company you didn’t care. 

You happily set about finishing your food while Ghost sat across from you, intently typing and reading things on his phone. The light from the device bounced off of his eyes, the fake blue light pooling thick on top of his shrunken pupils. You only realised you’d begun to stare at him when he looked up and seemed to smile at you. 

“Don’t get distracted, finish your dinner,” he chastised. 

Your ears pinned to your head in embarrassment and you focused back on the plate, not looking back up until the plate was empty and your belly was pleasantly full. Your tail twitched happily behind you and you leaned back in your chair with it, closing your eyes so that you could bask in the pleasant heavy feeling that was starting to overcome you again. 

“Ah ah, you’re not sleeping here. C’mon, to bed,” Ghost rumbled.

You opened your eyes again and blinked up at him, glowering under the weight of your exhaustion. Whatever bed you were imagining him having for you, you couldn’t imagine it’d be that much better than the rickety wooden chair you’d planted yourself on. Of course you’d forgotten all the nice things he’d allowed you already, and your mind was imagining something like your sleeping arrangement at the base. 

And once again your expectations were blown out of the water. He gestured for you to come follow him and with a sigh and a sharp crack in your knees you rose from your chair and huffed off down the dark hallway with him. The wood creaked as you both walked across it, groaning more heavily under your new handler’s larger steps. You didn’t have to walk very far fortunately for you. 

Ghost stopped at a door that was just next to the bathroom and opened it, ushering you in front of him as he got the lightswitch. You let him lead you round and looked into the room as it flashed to life, surprised again to see how much better your circumstances had become since leaving your original base. 

“I’m sleeping in here?”

“Yeah, this is your room. You’ve got a few blankets and pillows there on the bed so you can arrange it however you like. I know some hybrids like to nest and some don’t, so its up to you how you want to keep it. All I ask is that you make sure it’s kept clean, and I will be checking.”

You barely listened to him as you stared at the bed in front of you. It was a real bed. Not a stuffed foam pillow on the floor, not a mattress bundled in the corner, not cold barren concrete, no. It was a real bed with legs and a springy mattress and a cornflower duvet cover and an assortment of pillows and blue blankets to match. 

“I’ll let you put your things away tomorrow, for now I want you to lie down for me. You need your tail brushed and I want to check over your back.”

All at once your chest collapsed and the happiness you’d felt left your body entirely, every inch of it dropping from your ears and tail. You turned around and looked at Ghost, stopping him in his tracks just as he was taking a step toward you. He paused when he looked down at the snarl you now wore. 

“You’re not touching my tail, I’ve brushed it already myself,” you rumbled.

“And you’ve done a piss poor job of it. Go lie down and let me take a quick look,” Ghost said, his tone forceful and even. 

You growled then, letting the engine in your chest roar to life. Even if he was being nice to you, this was a step too far. You didn’t like it when people touched your tail or ears, usually it meant tugging and pulling and pain. Whenever you felt someone's hands on them it’d bring bile up everytime, your body ready to process the agony it was about to experience. 

“Alright, I can see that’s an issue for you,” he sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “What if I make sure not to touch it with my hands and just run the brush through, would that be ok?”

You paused and considered his words, growls dying low in your throat. Maybe this was the lesser of two evils, you thought. After all, if he wanted to brush your tail then he more than proved he could overpower you, so perhaps this was the only way to keep him from putting his hands on it. Unless you wanted to put vicious intent behind your attacks, the kind that would get you put down like a dog, then you had no way of actually making him stop. 

“Fine,” you snapped.

“Good. Lie down then,” he commanded, disappearing into the gloom of the hallway after. 

He reemerged again just after you finally lay down. He walked in on your internal battle, one part of you wanting to squeal with joy at how soft the bed was and the other wanting to jump up and bite the hand that held the brushes and lotion bottle. The main thing that gave you pause was knowing that the other handlers you'd known would’ve beat you black and blue for growling at them and questioning their orders, meanwhile Ghost had adjusted his plans just to suit you. He proved again that he championed your comfort. 

“I’ll make this quick, I promise,” Ghost soothed.

He sat down on the bed beside you, causing it to dip and groan under the new weight. It forced you to roll toward him too. You huffed when you came into contact with his side and scrambled to correct yourself, trying to maintain some modicum of distance from him. Once you were settled again, he placed the brushes and lotion bottle down next to you and lifted the thick toothed brush bringing it to your tail. 

You scrunched your eyes shut tightly and grit your teeth. You already felt like you were going to bring up your dinner. You couldn’t help but picture him ignoring his past promises. However instead of living up to your dark imaginings, he placed one hand on the small of your back and let the other drag the brush down your tail snagging almost immediately on a big clumpy matt that you’d missed.

“See, couldn’t let that sit there and build up. You’d end up with a skin infection,” he grunted. “If you don’t want me touching there that’s fine, but you’re going to need to help take the clumps out, ok?”

You stiffly nodded your head and opened your eyes again, feeling your cheeks heat when you realised that Ghost was staring down at you. You gulped down your embarrassment and reached your hand back, digging into your tail and pulling at the clump that the brush had brought up. 

Ghost grunted his approval and let the brush run through again and again, only pausing when it would stop at a tug. It started to become rhythmic, the noise of the brush cutting through your wiry fur and the dull thud whenever it hit a snag. He never once tried to touch you without your permission. 

“How long has your tail been twisted like this,” Ghost asked, interrupting the sound of the brush. 

You tilted your head, trying to think back to a time when it didn’t curve off to the side, you hadn’t remembered it being straight in so long. 

“I think it was fully broken when I was around sixteen maybe,” you said softly. “The doctors tried to set it properly, but it just wouldn’t come back no matter what they tried. I’ve learned to balance with it like that though and it mostly works like it used to - just a little range of movement lost they said”

“How did it break?”

You shivered at the memory. Ghost must’ve felt it underneath his hold on you because he stopped his brushing for a moment and let you speak. 

“Sergeant Maddox got mad because I couldn’t complete the training he’d set that day. I was tired from being out in the kennels the night before and I didn't have the rest of the run in me. He yanked me up off the floor by the tail and it just…snapped.”

You couldn’t see Ghost’s expression properly, but you could hear his anger through the seething breath he let out. A string snapped in your body, you felt the heat coursing from him, you tensed. Though you were soon relaxing again when he got back to brushing, silently continuing on with the rest of the treatment.

The process only lasted a couple of minutes, thankfully it wasn’t as bad as you might’ve thought, soon enough the brush was sliding down your tail like it was a boat sailing through a silver river. The second brush he’d brought, the one with the finer teeth did the same in a matter of three clumps and for a second you were grateful to be able to sleep. You smiled to yourself and got ready to readjust yourself for bed, but Ghost stopped you, his hand still firmly on your lower back. 

“You said you got lashed earlier. I need to check your back first then you can sleep.”

You whined but didn’t bother to properly protest. It would do you no good anyway. He lifted your shirt and let out another seething breath, cursing to himself about something to do with ‘the staff being leagues below incompetent’ and curled up a little, willing him just to be done and to take his venom away from you. 

“These marks aren’t good. I’m going to put a little bit of cream on you to help keep them clean. It’ll sting a bit but I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse.”

You nodded, signalling for him to proceed. He carefully worked the cream into your back, withdrawing when you hissed at the pressure or when he’d covered a particularly bad area. Though in time that was done too and he was twisting the cap back onto the bottle in no time. You breathed in a sigh of relief and worked your way onto your side, turning away from Ghost and his annoying efforts to treat you well. 

He laughed at the movement and gathered his things, rising off the bed and letting you get comfortable. Before you could think to pull up the sheets and get them over you though, Ghost took care of that for you. He stretched the duvet cover over your body and gently stroked his hand down an area of your back that he knew had been missed from your punishment. 

“G’night, pup. Sleep well and just shout if you need anything.” he murmured, voice soft as he retreated from the room. 

He turned out the light and shut the door, leaving you to lie there in the darkness with your wide eyes growing wetter with every retreating step you heard. You were more awake than you’d been the whole day, your mind was racing and your lungs were labouring hard under your heavy breaths. Somehow you tried to process the fact you’d just had someone tuck you in for the first time in…maybe ever?

You let out a little sob and buried your head in the covers, eyes streaming tears before you could bully yourself into controlling them. It felt like you were a new recruit all over again. Your head raced with images from your early years, lying in the bunkroom with all those strangers around you, wondering when your parents would come back, scared shitless of the big shouty human men that seemed so quick to anger. 

You weren’t scared of a big man trying to shout at you and punish you anymore though, now you were scared of the big man that wanted to treat you softly and give you a good home. Hard punishment felt like something you could do, but nice treatment with soft blankets and consenting touches and warm bellies full of food? That terrified the fuck out of you. 

You silenced your cries with the covers and jammed your fingers into your skin, willing yourself to shut up and go to sleep. Even while the salt stung at your cheeks and your skin protested under your sharp claws, the greatest pain felt like the sheer humiliation of enjoying Ghost’s affections.

You liked that he was babying you and taking care of you!

weakling. 

You growled to yourself and threw your head into your pillow. Fuck him. You ignored all your racing thoughts and blocked them out, scrunching your eyes closed and focusing instead on the white dots that crossed your field of vision. You wouldn’t be so weak tomorrow, you promised yourself. You wouldn’t let him dote and treat you like a puppy, you would be strong, you vowed, he’d see what you were really capable of then. 

[you-call-it-a-dude]

Call It What You Want Pt.3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.4 Pt.5

Summary: You get together with your friends to catch up on life and they're skeptical about what you're doing with Regina. A house party at Shane Oman's house gives Regina the chance to prove them wrong

Pairings: Regina George x Gender Neutral/Fem Reader

Warnings: internalized homophobia, underage drinking, drug use (there's some coke involved, but nothing too crazy I promise)

Notes: Hi! Chapter 3 and I'm just having so much fun with these. Listen, I know there's another party, but it's college. I'm keeping it realistic lol but also, next chapter will be a small time jump and they'll get more well established. Just trying to have some fun and build it up and see how things are shifting I guess?? Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter as well and thank you all for taking the time to read. Also, slight mention of drug use, but just a little dabble. But TW just in case. But I kept it not super crazy and kinda light for that reason

///

You were at your desk with your headphones on, doing your best attempt to do the readings for one of your classes that was due tomorrow. You always had a tendency to wait until the last minute for things, citing the excuse that working under pressure helps you think better. College may be testing the limits of that theory, but so far you haven't failed anything horrendously. It's only been a month since classes started though so there's still time.

Two arms wrapped around you from behind, caressing your chest and collarbone. You shot forward in your seat, ripping your headphones off your head and whipping your chair around to confront your roommate for majorly crossing a fucking boundary when you were met with a laughing Regina instead.

"Chill out, it's just me. Your roommate let me in before they left."

You stared up at her waiting for your heart to calm down. Though, staring at her wasn't doing you much good cause now it was just beating faster in a whole different way.

She was dressed up, her oversized designer purse that she uses for her backpack was sitting by your doorway so you know she must have stopped here right after class.

Something about that makes you feel all warm and giddy inside.

You also try not to think about the fact that you haven't seen her in like almost two weeks though.

"What brings you by?" You leaned forward, resting your forehead against her stomach and closing your eyes when her hands find their way to your scalp, massaging softly.

"I wanted to see you. I've just been busy with classes and soccer stuff lately." She gave your hair a tug so you would tilt your head back and look at her.

"When's your first game?" You questioned, your hands finding the backs of her thighs because that's what was within your reach and you almost felt like if you weren't touching her right now, you would implode.

"We've already had like three games."

"Oh." You said, your eyebrows furrowed. The hands on the back of her thighs faltered slightly and you didn't realize how much you wanted to be present at one of her games until you basically found out you were probably never going to be invited.

"Why the face?" She frowned, rubbing her thumb between your eyebrows to essentially try to get you to fix your face.

"Can I come see you play?"

"Uh," her voice was a touch higher than normal and you knew whatever was about to fly out of her mouth was either going to be a lie or something you probably didn't want to hear.

"Don't worry about it." You shook your head and gave her a tight lipped smile, leaning back in your chair.

"Stop, don't be like that." She straddled your lap and you tightened your grip on the back of her thighs because the last thing you needed was for her to fall. "I just can't have any distractions while I'm there."

"No, yeah. That makes sense." You agreed for the sake of moving past this conversation, but you also weren't really looking at her either. She gripped your face with both her hands, forcing you to look at her.

"Stop, Y/N." Her tone sounded less playful and you knew you just needed to let it the fuck go. You nodded and she squeezed your cheeks, pushing your lips out and planting a kiss on your lips. You quickly caught her lips for a second kiss before she could pull away and you could feel her smile against your lips.

She slid her hands down and cupped your neck, deepening the kiss. You could feel her rubbing her thumbs along your jawline and having Regina George sitting on your lap kissing you has to be what heaven feels like.

"I have to finish my homework." You mumbled against hers lips, pulling her closer to you by the backs of her thighs. She responds by grinding down into you, shaking her head no. You gasped when her hips moved against you again and she wasted no time slipping her tongue into your mouth.

"Fuck your homework." She said before bringing you in for another heated kiss.

It was tempting. God, it was so fucking tempting. The way she was grinding against you was making your brain short circuit so you know trying to get anything done would be impossible.

"Stay here with me and hangout." You pulled away from the kiss to look at her, pushing some stray hairs from her face. "Ren will be gone for a while. It'll just be us. I can order pizza, too."

"Ugh, I guess I could do some homework, too." She said begrudgingly.

"You probably should if you want to keep playing soccer."

"You probably should if you want to keep playing soccer." She mocked, rolling her eyes at you.

But the fact that she had her arms draped over your shoulder and had been twirling the hairs at the back of your neck around her finger really made you feel like she was not as upset about spending time with you as she was trying to let on.

"What kind of pizza do you want, beautiful?" You sneak in one more quick kiss because you just couldn't help it.

"Would you judge me if I just said cheese?"

"Never."

You both just stared at each other in silence for a few moments. One of Regina's hands moved to cup your cheek, her thumb swiping against your cheekbone. She leaned in and pressed a soft, slow kiss against your lips.

"I'm gonna change and get everything I need from my room. I'll be back." She gave you one more quick kiss before getting off your lap and you felt almost desperate the way you tried to keep your hands on her until she walked out of reach. So desperate that even having your fingertips on her felt better than nothing.

She took her keys from her bag and left it sitting against your wall. There was no question about whether or not she was coming back. When she closed the door behind her you hopped out of your desk chair and to to work on straightening up your room.

You fixed your bed, moved some clothes out of the way that were in the way. You had this bean-bag lounge chair thing that your mom got you and you pulled it out from the little space between the wall and your dresser where you shoved it because it took up way too much room to keep out daily.

You plopped onto the chair and called to order a large cheese pizza, opting to order from a nicer place instead of Dominos since Regina would be joining you. You got a soda for yourself and a sparkling water for Regina and added two cannolis for dessert.

Regina knocked on your door about twenty minutes later. She was dressed in comfy sweats and a crew neck, carrying a few books and her laptop and charger.

You smiled and stepped aside to let her in.

"Sooo, I have a paper to write that's due tonight that I forgot about. Where can I plug this in?"

"You can take my desk. Let me see." You looked at her charger and nodded. "We have the same one, just use mine and plug your computer in. I only have to do some reading and annotating tonight." You carefully took her charger from her and set it on her bag.

She set all her items on your desk and started to carefully move your stuff to the side, making sure to bookmark the page you were on and to put your laptop to sleep properly before closing it.

You grabbed everything she set aside and set in on your bed, grabbing on the book you needed, your pen, and a highlighter. You took everything to the beanbag chair that was situated slightly behind your desk.

"You're so far away." She commented, turning in your chair to face you with a small pout.

You chuckled and grabbed the back of the chair, dragging it to the small space between your desk and your bed and setting it there. You picked up your book and your pens and plopped down. Regina nodded in approval and turned to her computer.

After twenty minutes of straight reading your eyes needed a break. You closed your book and stretched, looking up at Regina to see her texting. Her computer screen split between an empty google doc and the school portal that actually signed her out for inactivity.

"Have you even started?" Nudging her leg with your foot.

"Hmm?" She hummed, waiting until whatever text she was working on was sent before looking up at you.

"Your paper."

"I will. Relax." She rolled her eyes and made a face at you before turning away. Which actually kind of pissed you off a little.

"Fine. Don't come crawling to me for any fucking help then." You adjusted yourself in the beanbag chair, opening your book again and continuing to read.

You could hear Regina typing every once in a while, but when you would look up you would see her doing online shopping or pretty much anything that wasn't homework. You continued to read for almost another thirty minutes until you got a call from the pizza delivery person that they were at the front desk of your dorm.

"Did you pay? Let me pay for it." She stood up, helping you off the beanbag first before attempting to go to her bag.

You pulled her back by her wrist and pulled her into you, wrapping your other arm around her waist.

"I've got it. Don't worry about." You kissed her quickly and patted her lower back before releasing her. "Get the tv remote off Ren's desk and pick something for us to watch while we eat. I'll be right back, babe."

You grabbed your keys and slipped on your shoes so you could head downstairs.

You returned a few minutes later with the box of pizza and the bag with your drinks and dessert.

Regina had cleared off space on multiple surfaces to make room for the food and for you both to eat. She was waiting for you patiently on your bed, laying comfortably against your pillows while scrolling through the streaming app of her choice.

You set the pizza down and got everything situated. Pulling out paper plates and napkins then making plates for the both you. Regina held both your plates while you pulled out the drinks and opened them.

"You got me a drink!" She said excitedly when she saw you pop open her sparking water.

"Yeah, baby!" You set the drinks on the edge of your desk and slid in to bed next to her, taking the outside once again.

You settled on watching Schitts Creek while you ate, having to talk her out of a Real Housewives show and reminding her that she was the one we with a paper due tonight.

You watched one episode while you ate and you watched a second one to 'let your food digest', both of you settling further into your bed. Regina had her head on your chest, rubbing the part of your arm you had wrapped around her that she could reach.

Your biggest mistake was letting her convince you to put on more episode for good measure. Actually, no. Letting her pull a blanket over the both of you was the mistake.

She was out within the first five minutes of the third episode, though your fingertips rubbing her scalp weren't really helping her stay awake.

You gave her until 8:30 before turning off the show and waking her up gently. You kissed the top of her head, calling her name after every kiss until her eyes fluttered open then back closed. She buried herself deeper into your embrace.

You found her cheek and kissed it repeatedly and obnoxiously until she got annoyed enough to wake up. It was a short nap, but you can tell it was a good one just based off the redness in her face from both how she was laying and how warm and comfortable she was.

You pushed hair from her face and handed her her drink, giving her just a few minutes to fully wake up on her own without being rushed.

When Regina was fully awake, you both made your way back to your designated homework spots. You sat more comfortably this time, your legs stretched out with your feet resting on Regina's lap. Something she had actually encouraged you to do which surprised you a little.

You had no complaints about it though. Since her deadline was creeping up on her she was actually doing her work, but whenever she would pause to read something or think about what she wanted to type out next, her hands would find their way to her lap and trace patterns on your shins and ankles to help her think.

She got her paper submitted about five minutes before the deadline. Did she almost have a few mental breakdowns? Yes. Was she cursing out her professor? Also yes. But as soon as it was submitted you could tell she was visibly relieved she got it done.

"When can I see you again?" You asked her, handing her her bag as well as a small ziplock of pizza.

"Tomorrow?"

"I can't tomorrow." You shook your head. "I'm gonna be seeing Ava and Isaac tomorrow."

"Who?" She raised her eyebrow.

"My friends? From North Shore? We are gonna meet up after classes tomorrow."

"Oh."

"What? What's wrong?" You asked, immediately detecting a shift in her mood.

"You're not gonna say anything, right?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You were obviously hurt that she didn't want anyone knowing, but also like if she wasn't ready she wasn't ready.

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry about it." You gave her a reassuring smile and despite the night you had together, she left without kissing you goodbye.

---

You met Isaac and Ava at a burger place near your campus that they had been wanting to check out. They both went to a different university in the city so it was nice that getting together wasn't impossible because of distance.

It was just impossible because of life.

You all greeted each other excitedly and ordered your food before getting down to the nitty gritty of your catch up.

Isaac had an STI scare and told you he finally got himself put on PrEP after you had been begging him since the school year started. His parents are also filing for divorce since he and his siblings are all 18 and over which he is actually pretty thankful about cause he was sick of them together. You and Ava were shown a multitude of different Grindr profiles of the guys he's been with, offering praises for the good ones and some reality checks for the questionable folks.

Ava hasn't been too involved in the dating scene. She has begun dabbling in some drugs that were a little heftier than what was usually provided at the house parties thrown by her brother. She did tell you that if you ever hear her mention meth or heroin, that y'all had permission to get her ass to rehab. But right now, it wasn't that serious.

You definitely made them share their locations with you indefinitely though.

"So, Y/N, drop the dirty details. What's been going on with you?" Isaac asked, taking a sip of his soda.

"I've been seeing someone. Maybe? Kind of?" You felt yourself blushing just thinking of Regina.

"What do you mean maybe, kind of?" Ava jumped in defensively. It was her and Isaac's turn to play the concerned friend role with you. "Do you have a picture?"

"I do, but she's not out yet."

"What does that matter we don't know he-oh, we fucking know her don't we? From North Shore?" You nodded and Isaac smacked the table. "At your school??" You nodded again and you could see him thinking, going through the list of everyone in your class that he knew of that went to your school. Which, was not a lot. "I can only think of like five people and two of them are boys." He held up three fingers, putting them down as he went through them. "Lupe Campos, Amira Harris, and Regina George." He put his three fingers back up and wiggled them.

You shifted ever so slightly when he said Regina's name and you and Ava made eye contact. She narrowed her eyes at you and you know you've possibly been found out.

"She doesn't want to be out. I'm not-I'm not confirming anything." You managed to stutter out.

"Shane is having a party tomorrow. My parents are out of town. He invited a bunch of high school people cause you know, he def peaked in high school and can't let that shit go. Are you coming?"

The notorious Shane Oman is Ava's twin brother. Two complete different personalities (almost), but unsurprisingly they're both pretty close to each other since they're twins. Apparently he had been struggling with life lately since graduation so this party is apparently his desperate attempt at finding purpose and popularity again.

"Yeah, I'm down. Could be fun." You shrugged.

"I heard he invited Regina and she will also be going."

Okay, well, see that you didn't know.

"Good for her." You nodded, playing with your fries before pushing your plate away.

"She didn't tell you?"

"Why would she?" Isaac interrupted before you could respond. Neither you or Ava spoke, but the eye contact between the two of you was enough for Isaac to finally connect the dots. He gasped before collecting himself. "Seriously? Regina George?" He said her name barely above a whisper, being conscious of the fact that you said she wasn't out yet.

You didn't tell them, technically.

"She's actually really great and just misunderstood."

"You could make the same argument about polar bears or crocodiles." Ava argued, pushing her hair behind her ear. "You don't think that her coming to her exe's house party and not saying anything to you is, I don't know, suspicious?"

"You never fall for the straight girl." Isaac piped in and Ava snapped in agreement.

"She's just figuring herself out." You defended.

"At your expense, babe! Come on! You know better."

"It's so different when it's only us. She's just scared." Ava gave you a look that could only best be described as pity and it didn't make you feel great.

"I get you, you know I do." Isaac reached across the table and grabbed your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "Just be careful."

"No, yeah. I know. I am."

---

You took the Metra to Evanston early Saturday afternoon, bringing a bag with an outfit or two with you and deciding to stop by and visit your dad, step mom, and little siblings.

They all greeted you excitedly and you spent the afternoon playing with your siblings, two year old Levi and 9-month old Zoe. It gave your dad and step mom some time to themselves and it gave you time with your siblings, something you both appreciated.

You started getting ready to go around 7pm. Levi hung out with you until his bed time and when your dad came him to pick him up off your bed, he gave you the speech about being careful, to call him at anytime if you needed a ride, not to drive drunk or get in the car with anyone that has been drinking or doing drugs. Pretty much just covering all his basic before releasing you into the wild.

Isaac picked you up around 9:30pm and when you got there the house was already packed a vibrating. Definitely not to the capacity it used to be since it's a random weekend in the middle of the semester, but still pretty full nonetheless. Regina's pink jeep was parked in the driveway. She must have had the same idea as you and came to Evanston early to see her family.

The fact that she was parked in the driveway and not on the side street or the front lawn made you want to throw the fuck up.

You did particularly enjoy the fact that, as far as you knew, Regina did not know you were coming. You felt like you had the upper hand. You put extra effort into your outfit and your hair. You didn't expect her to talk to you tonight or even acknowledge you if she saw you tonight. But that didn't mean you couldn't make it difficult for her not to.

You walked into the party and past a bunch of people who have never bat an eyelash at your existence in high school. You pushed past the drunk, high, sweaty party goers with Isaac clutching your jacket and guided him through the crowed to the kitchen.

Regina was in that area, drink in hand, talking to Shane, Gretchen, and Karen. When she saw you it was like she saw a ghost. You could tell she didn't expect to see you there and that it threw her off.

You were at the counter where all the drinks were laid out, debating between a bright blue drink and a bright green one. Both looked equally questionable. You felt a presence beside you and you knew it was Regina because you could smell her perfume.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, filling up her own drink and not making any eye contact with you.

"Ava invited me. Shane's twin sister." You added for clarification.

"Shane's twin?" You turned to her to say something, but she looked at you briefly and could tell her comment annoyed you. "I'm kidding. I know he has a twin. I didn't realize your Ava and his Ava were the same." You just nodded, deciding to take a chance on the bright blue drink and putting your cup under the spigot of the cooler it was in and filling your cup.

"You look really pretty tonight." You told her before taking a sip of your drink. She blushed and pushed some hair behind her ear, topping off her own cup.

"So do you." She smiled and took a sip of her drink as well, still not turning to look in your direction.

Karen and Gretchen waved her over and Karen shouted for her to bring them more shots.

"I'm surprised you're talking with them." You made yourself look busy while she prepared their tequila shots.

"Shit is different when alcohol is involved. I miss them a lot sometimes."

"Need help?" You watched her finagle the three plastic shot glasses and the red solo cup in her grip.

"Got it." She moved past you, knocking into your shoulder and making your drink splash over slightly onto your hand.

How she prevented anything from spilling onto her was a fucking mystery.

You found Ava and Isaac in the garage with a few other people, passing around joints and bongs. You took a seat on one of the chairs Ava saved for you and she handed you a joint before your ass hit the seat.

You vibed in the garage for about two joints until Ava pulled out a small bag of coke. That cleared the room quite fast honestly. Only you, Isaac, and two other people stayed with Ava.

She offered it to everyone and Isaac refused immediately. You hesitated to say no and she smirked, asking you if you were interested. That she would make sure it was a small bump and you would be totally okay.

Sure, you had only been drinking and smoking weed prior.

You were too scared to snort it, Isaac calling you 'so real' for that. Instead you were taught how to rub it on your gums and how to let it sit under your tongue instead.

The first fifteen minutes after were great, although seeing your best friend who was like this innocent band nerd just a few months ago snort a line? That was not anything you would want to see again.

You were fine until Gretchen and Karen came in to the garage Regina-less. Something about that had you start to feel a little bit anxious.

They came in asking Ava some question about where something was and she questioned where her brother was and you were out of that room once you heard he was in his bedroom.

You felt anxious, like your heart was going to fly out of your chest. Also, weirdly enough, you felt like you could totally fight someone and win right now.

You made your way to Shane's room and saw the door closed. You turned the knob and it was locked.

"Fuck." You sighed, pressing your head against the door briefly before pulling away.

You dragged your feet down the hall to Ava's room, opening the door and shutting it quickly when you saw the room was already occupied. You made a mental note that you would hopefully remember to tell her to wash her sheets.

You were kinda feeling sick and you didn't want to go back downstairs so you walked to the very end of the long hallway by the window. It was quiet and secluded and you sat with your back against the wall so you could watch all these assholes at the party.

You weren't sure how long you had been sitting there, maybe ten minutes max. You thought it was starting to wear off, but seeing Regina coming down the hallway arguing with Ava, and Isaac hot on both of their heels, had you thinking you were hallucinating.

You leaned forward and the three of them rushed to you, Regina shoving past Ava to get to you first. You heard an 'ooop' escape from Isaac's mouth and you met his gaze with a smirk. He winked and gave you a nod.

Regina was on the floor, kneeling in front of you with your face cupped between your hands.

"Hey, are you okay? You've been missing for a fucking hour." She titled your head up to look at your eyes in the light.

"I've been up here the whole time."

"Well we asked around trying to find you, but got conflicting information. Turns out, people are fucking stupid." Ava jumped in and Regina whipped her head around to give her what you assume was the most foul look both her and Isaac had ever seen judging by their faces.

Clearly Regina and Ava have not been getting along. You squeezed your thighs together at Regina's protectiveness over you then raised an eyebrow at Isaac. He shook his head and gave you a look that told you you'd talking about it at some point later.

"I'm so sorry, guys. I had no idea. I didn't mean to scare you." You still sound a little dazed and confused, trying to figure out how that hour passed in ten minutes.

"What happened?" She asked softly, her hand under your chin and her eyes searching your face.

You thought it over, trying to remember why you even came up here in the first place. You looked around the area and your eyes bounced to Shane's bedroom door. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to get your brain working again. Regina didn't come from Shane's bedroom. You have confirmation that she's actually been trying to find you for the last hour.

"I don't remember. It's nothing." Your eyes bounced between her face and Shane's door once more and she knew exactly what your thought process was.

She shook her head no and let her thumb brush over your bottom lip quickly when she was pulling her hands off your face. She stood up and helped you up.

"Do you want me to take you back to your dad's?" Isaac asked as soon as you were on your feet.

"What? No. I'm good. Should we get another drink or something?" The last thing you wanted to do was be more of a vibe killer than you already had been. Especially for Regina.

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about, baby!" Ava exclaimed and gave you a high five. "Want some more?" Ava teased, giving you a playful nudge and you both laughed. She was teasing you, you knew that. Joke or not, Regina didn't like it and you could tell by the way her grip tightened on the back of your shirt. "Seriously though, you should go home. Your eyes are fucking crazy right now."

"Where's my phone?" You asked when you noticed your pockets were feeling a little light.

"I have it. Let's go." Regina tugged your shirt and nudged you forward. "I'll bring you home."

"Nobody has to bring me home. I will take an Uber or call my dad. I'm not ruining anyone's fun. I feel fine guys, honestly." You lied. You felt nauseous and dizzy. Your heart was also racing crazy fast and you aren't sure if it's from the coke or Regina's fingertips against your back. "Also, Ave, people were fucking on your bed. Before I forget."

"Ugh, what the fuck!" She stomped and busted into her room. It was empty now, but very clearly, uh, used. She abandoned you to take care of that mess and you honestly don't even blame her.

"I'm gonna take you. Let's go." She repeated, clearly eager to just get you the fuck out of there.

"I'm gonna walk out with y'all. This party just ain't it for me, honestly." He held his arm out for you and Regina nudged you toward him. You hooked your arm around his and he walked you down the stairs, Regina trailing not too far behind you. "Let me tell you something." He said when Regina was out of earshot after letting you know she was going to get her purse and say goodbye to people.

"Hmm?"

"I thought Regina was gonna beat Ava's ass, girl. She was pissed." He shoved past the last few people on the front porch and led you to Regina's car.

"Really, why?"

"Well, I ran after you trying to find you. You were like a fart in the wind. Just poof, gone. Could not find you. I swear I went upstairs and you were not there, granted, I didn't necessarily look down. I came to Ava to get her to help me find you. Mind you, at this point, Regina came in to look for Gretchen and Karen cause they were still in the garage fighting over some stupid shit with her. Regina came in and overheard I couldn't find you. Ava was dismissive at first, said you would be fine. Regina kept her cool, kept it together. But then," he rested you against her jeep. "But then she said 'it was just a little coke. They're fine.' Honey, if you didn't tell us y'all were sneaking around, she would've gave it away then and there."

"Get the fuck out. What did she do? Wait, shush she's coming." You readjusted yourself when you saw Regina approaching with her bag, a bottle of water, and her clunky keys in hand.

"Talking shit?" Was the first thing out of her mouth as soon as she got close enough, sending a smirk your way while she unlocked the car. "Thank you, Isaac." She said as he helped you get situated in the passenger seat.

"I don't even feel it anymore, guys. I really think I'm fine."

"Mmm mmm." He shook his head, reaching across you to hand Regina your seatbelt to click in. "You need some sunglasses or something you look scary."

"Goodnight, Isaac." You rolled your eyes and he pressed a kiss against your cheek. "Text me when you're home?"

"Of course. You, too, please. I'm calling you tomorrow, too. Night, Regina." He waved at you both before closing the door and making his way to his car.

You both watched in silence waiting for him to get into his car safely.

"You're gonna come to my house tonight." She stated, putting her car in drive and not really giving you an option. She pulled your phone out and handed it to you. "Text your dad. I'll bring you home in the morning."

You unlocked your phone to see a bunch of texts and calls from Isaac, Ava, and mostly Regina. You can tell at some point, they all found your phone or realized you didn't have it because the messages stopped around the same time.

The final message Regina had sent you on their quest to locate you, after a slew of semi annoyed ones, or about how it wasn't funny, or that she was actually worried, was simply just 'baby please'. You stared at the words for a minute, letting the words burn into your brain before you were pulled from your thoughts and asked you if you texted him.

"Oh, yeah. Yes." You shot him a quick message and he responded almost immediately. He must've have been awake watching tv or playing a video game, but he's always been a night owl like that. Especially on weekends. He told you to be safe and to call if you needed anything. "Are you sure it'll be okay that I'm there? I can go home. I really think I'll be okay."

"Stop."

"Okay, sorry." You settled into the seat, turning your knees away from her. You felt bad about ruining the party for her, ruining her night, making her feel like he has to bring you home with her and take of you.

You were probably overthinking and maybe still slightly paranoid, but it just wasn't a great feeling.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance and reached across your seat, grabbing your knee furtherest away from her and giving it a tug so they were back facing her direction. She kept her hand planted firmly on your knee until she pulled into the drive way of her mansion. Which, yeah, understandable.

She parked in what was probably an eight car garage and led you inside of the house. There was a light left on in the main stairway for her, but otherwise it seemed the rest of the house was asleep. When you tried taking your shoes off at the door so you weren't too loud, she told you everyone took their sleeping pills for the night and would be too knocked out to hear a damn thing.

She led you up to her room and closed the door behind her. Your eyes widened, taking in the space. It felt bigger than your mom's apartment.

"Here." She was smirking when she handed you a pair of clothes to wear for the night. A grey long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of pink sweatpants that had 'slut' written on the back.

"You think you're so cleverrrr."

"I do, actually. And funny. Plus, I think I deserve it for what you put me through."

"I want to lay down so bad I'm not even going to fight you on it." You wouldn't admit it aloud, but they did look comfortable.

"And I want a picture."

"Okay, don't push it." You gave her a pointed look. She laughed and kissed your lips once, then a second time. She let the second kiss linger a little longer, her hand resting on your cheek and her body melting into you.

"I'm gonna shower. I don't care what time it is, I'm taking advantage of my big shower before going back to school. Will you be okay?" She swiped her thumbs across your cheeks and you nodded.

"In that big ass bed? Yeah I'll be so good."

Regina left to the attached bath to take her shower and you changed your clothes. You folded your clothes and put them on her chair. You changed into the clothes she gave you and hummed at how comfortable they were.

You climbed into her bed and picked the side you thought would be correct based off how everything was situated. You layed on top of the covers and sighed when your head hit the pillow. The beds at the dorms sucked, but this bed was also comfier than any other bed you've been on.

You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of the water coming from Regina's bathroom. You heard her come out of the bathroom at some point. She was walking around the room, doing a bunch of things but you were too lazy to open your eyes and see what.

The bed dipped and you felt her slide into the space next to you. The smell of her floral body wash and shampoo flooding your sense.

Her lips pressed against your cheek and her hand found it's way up your shirt to rest on your stomach to trace patterns around your belly button. You smiled and squirmed a little cause it tickled. You felt her smile against your cheek and she pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away.

"Hey." You mumbled in protest, cracking an eye open to see she was adjusting the towel for her hair.

She laughed at your impatience and got herself comfortable again, supporting her head with her hand to keep it off her pillows for now. Her other hand found its way to the waistband of your pants, twirling the drawstring.

"These look good on you. Pink is totally your color." You grunted and she laughed through her nose. "I definitely need to see the back in action though. Give me a little turn." She nudged your hip and you let out a loud laugh, turning on your stomach for her. "So gorg, babe!" She was laughing with you, her hand coming down to smack your ass cheek a few times, which sent you both into a fit of giggles.

She wrapped an arm around you and buried her face between your shoulder blades. You tugged her arm to pull her closer to you and laced your fingers together. She shifted behind you and the towel on her head went zooming across the room. You settled deeper into her chest and her grip around you tightened.

"Will you need a ride back to school tomorrow?"

"I was just gonna take the train back."

"Ew, no. I'll take you to get your stuff from your dad's and we can go together

"Cool, thank you." You nodded, feeling yourself start to fall asleep. Regina kissed the back of your head and began to pull away.

"I need to do my skin and hair routine. Get under the covers and go to sleep."

"S'fine." You mumbled, already too far gone and making no effort to move whatsoever.

[dilvuc]

❝WHEN THEY WEAR YOUR CLOTHES❞

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: fluff

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: gender neutral

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: when they wear your clothes

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: second years x gn!reader (excluding housewarens)

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: none

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: when they wear your clothes

╰┈➤ RUGGIE

“That's odd. I thought I put my cleaned shirt here. Where is it…?” you scratch the back of your head as you look around your room for your shirt. however they were nowhere to be found. “Did I misplace it…?”

you heard whistling passing by your bedroom. you assume that it was ruggie carrying a basket of laundry to leona's room. you peek outside your room and you were correct, it was ruggie. however, there's something different about him.

he's wearing your shirt! how are you not surprised? he always took your stuff. you called for the male, “Ruggie…”

“Hm? Yes?” ruggie questioned when he heard you calling his name. “Do you need anything?”

“...You know exactly what I need.” you deadpanned. yes, he knows exactly what you need. ruggie looks away, “I have no idea what you're talking about~”

“Do you always need to steal my stuff?” you sweatdropped.

“Shishishi~ Finder keeper~” ruggie snickered. you sighed, knowing that you can't stop him from stealing from you. you are dating after all. the shirt looks cute on him, too.

╰┈➤ JADE

“Ah…where is it?” you questioned while looking under your bed. you were looking for the blazer of your dorm uniform, but they were nowhere to be found. “What the hell? I'm sure it didn't move on its own.”

while you were searching for your blazer, floyd walked by your room and spotted you looking under the bed. the teal haired male slowly sneaks behind you and taps you on your shoulder, causing you to jump.

“Hehehehe~ Gotcha~” floyd grinned. you huffed, “What the fuck, Floyd.”

“Whatcha looking for?”

“My blazer. I put it in the exact spot.” you pointed to your desk before going back to search for your blazer.

“Ah…I think I saw Jade wearing it.” floyd said, pausing your search. you accidentally hit your head in your bed and turned to the teal haired male, “Eh? What did you say? Jade has it?”

“Yeah. That blazer couldn't fit him. It was too big,”floyd stated.

“Ara, ara~ You noticed.” jade peek in your bedroom, wearing your blazer on his person. he stepped into your room to reveal the full view of himself to you. “I just thought it be funny to see how you react to find out about your missing blazer~”

“Give it back—” you wanted to get it back, but now that you took a closer look at it, it looks cute on him, “On second thought, keep wearing it…”

“Oh? Did you find it cute on me?” jade chuckled. you blushed and looked away.

“Ew…did he turn you on?” floyd cringed.

“Shut up…”

╰┈➤ FLOYD

every time. every freaking time, he wears your clothes without permission. why? it all happened last week when he tried on your clothes. when you find him wearing your hoodie, you don't bother telling him to take it off. instead, you called him cute which led him to keep taking your clothes just to be called cute again.

“You really took it personally…” you sweatdropped when you noticed floyd wearing your oversized night shirt with shorts underneath.

“Well? Well?” floyd asked, waiting for you to call him cute. you chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck, “You look cute.”

“I know, right~ I'm cuter than anyone?” floyd beamed.

“Yes, way cuter.”

hearing you called him cute put a huge smile on his face. how the fuck can someone like floyd be so fucking cute? you can't handle this much cuteness.

╰┈➤ JAMIL

“Huh…? Did I get it mixed up with other student clothes again?” you asked yourself while holding up a hoodie that is most definitely not yours. it was jamil's hoodie. he must've accidentally taken your hoodie. “This is Jamil. Maybe I should give it back to him…”

you folded up the hoodie and went to jamil’s room then knocked on the door. the tan skinned male responses to the knock, allowing you to come in.

“Uh, sorry for interrupting. But…I wanted to let you know that you mistook my hoodie as yours—” you paused mid-sentence when you realized that Jamil was being comfortable in your hoodie.

“Did I…? I don't think I did.” jamil tilted his head fiddling with the strings on your hoodie. “I think it's fine…”

“You sneaky snake…” you blushed while clutching on your heart. jamil smirked, knowing that he won. you'll get him next time.

╰┈➤ SILVER

your hoodie was missing. you don't remember wearing it until fall. how is it gone now? did someone steal it? did you move it? did you leave it somewhere? so many questions going on in your head and you don't know where to look—

“Are you looking for your hoodie?” you jumped when you spotted lilia hanging upside down on your ceiling. you always hated when he did that. lilia chuckled, “Why don't you check on Silver and see?”

“Silver…?” you tilted your head.

just as lilia says, you went to check on silver. there better be a good explanation for this. you entered silver’s room without knocking, but surely silver wouldn't mind since he's always be sleeping. “Silver…?”

you noticed the silver haired male sleeping in bed wearing your hoodie, “Ah…So that's where my hoodie was…Cute…”

you quietly grabbed your phone and took a picture of your silver haired boyfriend and posted it on magicam.

rules

twst masterlist

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on my books on wattpad. if you wish to read those books, here's my wattpad account.

[fuqnia]

kenny x gender neutral reader

reader is having a panic attack from sensory overload (bright lights, loud noises, ect), kenny takes off his parka and puts it on them and it acts as a weighted blanket and then he comforts them and calms them down

No worries if you can’t do this request :)

Wrapped in Orange

kenny mccormick x reader insert

☆ A/N | the best way to end the year is writing for kenny... i love him so much 😭 tysm for this request, i hope i didn't butcher anything! ❤️this was also an excuse to write crimson dawn hehe <3

☆ C/W | panic attacks, sensory overload

The South Park Fall Festival was in full swing, buzzing with the kind of energy that could only exist on a crisp autumn evening. Warm string lights zigzagged overhead, draping the bustling square in a golden glow. The air was thick with the scent of caramel apples, roasted nuts, and cinnamon-spiced cider, mingling with the occasional waft of fried dough from a nearby food truck. Everywhere you looked, bright orange pumpkins and cornstalks lined the booths, the decorations carefully toeing the line between charmingly festive and intentionally cheesy.

You wandered through the maze of stalls, sipping from a steaming cup of cider, the warmth spreading through your fingers despite the chill in the air. There was something nostalgic about the Fall Festival, something that always made it feel like a time capsule. The families wrangling kids in oversized coats, the groups of friends laughing over rigged carnival games, even the occasional burst of a balloon popping somewhere in the distance—it all felt like stepping into a moment frozen in time.

You paused at a booth displaying handmade jewelry, the intricate designs glinting under the lights. The vendor smiled at you warmly, and you returned the gesture before continuing on, your gaze shifting to the brightly colored prizes dangling from a nearby game booth.

The sound of someone shouting your name cut through the din, and you turned to see a familiar figure waving at you from across the square. Stan stood near one of the carnival games, his signature navy beanie pulled low over his ears, holding a soda in one hand. Beside him, Kenny leaned casually against the booth’s counter, his orange hoodie bright against the fall backdrop.

“There you are!” Stan called, his breath visible in the cold air. “We thought you got lost or something.”

“I was just looking around,” you replied, making your way over to them.

Kenny straightened as you approached, his grin lazy and confident. “Good timing. You’re about to witness greatness.” He gestured toward the stack of prizes lining the shelves of the balloon-popping game.

“Greatness, huh?” you said, raising an eyebrow as you leaned against the counter beside him.

Stan snorted. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s already blown, like, ten bucks trying to win something.”

“Ten bucks well spent,” Kenny shot back, grabbing one of the darts from the booth attendant. “It’s called investing in success, Marsh. You should try it sometime.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stan said, smirking as he took a sip of his soda. “Sure.”

Kenny ignored him, turning his attention to the balloons. He aimed with exaggerated precision, squinting like he was lining up a shot that could change the course of history. With a flick of his wrist, the dart flew—and missed the balloon entirely, bouncing off the backboard.

“You’re distracting me,” Kenny said, flashing you a grin that was somehow both charming and exasperated.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, trying to stifle a laugh.

Stan shook his head. “This is painful to watch.”

Kenny threw another dart, and this time, it popped the balloon with a satisfying bang. He turned toward you, his grin widening. “See? Told you I’ve got skills babe.”

“Congratulations,” you said, clapping slowly. “You’ve truly earned your spot in the Balloon Popping Hall of Fame.”

Kenny bowed theatrically, then turned back to the booth attendant, who handed him a small stuffed pumpkin. He spun it in his hands like it was a priceless artifact before holding it out to you.

“For you, my liege,” he said, his voice mockingly chivalrous.

You laughed, taking the plush toy from him. “Wow, my very own pumpkin. How will I ever repay you?”

“By sticking around for the show later,” Kenny replied, his tone shifting from playful to surprisingly sincere. “Crimson Dawn’s hitting the stage in, like, twenty minutes.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said with a smile, hugging the stuffed pumpkin to your chest.

The three of you continued to wander through the festival, and for a while, everything felt perfect. The lights above twinkled like stars, the music from the stage mingling with the laughter of the crowd. Kenny cracked jokes, Stan occasionally chimed in with his deadpan humor, and for a moment, the world seemed as simple and magical as it did when you were a kid.

But then, something shifted.

It started small, barely noticeable at first. The lights, which had seemed warm and inviting, now felt just a little too bright, their glow sharper against the dark sky. The overlapping sounds of the festival—the music, the chatter, the occasional burst of a carnival game—blended into a hum that grew steadily louder, pressing against your temples.

You shook it off, brushing away the faint unease. You were probably just tired.

Kenny was saying something, but his voice seemed farther away than it should have been.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head toward you.

You blinked, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But the feeling didn’t fade.

The crowd around you seemed to thicken, the once-charming chaos of the festival now feeling overwhelming. Every sound felt amplified—the rustle of jackets, the crunch of footsteps, the laughter and chatter blending into an incomprehensible blur. Even the smells, once comforting, felt suffocating now, each scent competing for dominance in a way that made your stomach churn.

Your steps faltered, and you clutched the stuffed pumpkin in your arms as if it could anchor you.

“[Y/N]?” Kenny’s voice was closer now, his usual teasing tone replaced with something softer, more concerned.

You opened your mouth to respond, but your chest felt tight, your breathing shallow.

It’s fine, you told yourself. You just need a second.

But the world around you didn’t stop spinning. The lights blurred, their sharp glow piercing your eyes. The chatter of the crowd became an unintelligible roar, pressing in from all directions. Your pulse raced, a drumbeat of panic pounding in your ears.

Kenny’s voice broke through the haze, sharper now but laced with concern. His hand brushed your arm, light but insistent. “Hey, are you sure you’re good? You’re looking pale as hell.”

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but your breathing was too shaky to form words.

Kenny’s grin disappeared, replaced with a sharp focus that felt unusual for him. He glanced over his shoulder at Stan, catching his attention. “Cover for me,” he said, low but firm. Stan didn’t question it, giving a quick nod before heading backstage.

Kenny turned back to you. “Come on, let’s get out of this mess.” His tone was softer now, and he wrapped an arm securely around your shoulders, guiding you through the crowd. His movements were steady, deliberate, as if shielding you from the chaos.

“It’s too loud, huh? Too much going on?” His words weren’t pushy, just observations. “Let’s find somewhere quiet. You’ll be fine—I promise.”

He didn’t stop until you were seated on a bench near the edge of the festival. Kenny crouched in front of you, resting a hand on your knee while his other hand hovered, ready to steady you. His blue eyes scanned your face, his expression unreadable but serious.

“Okay, look at me,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Like this.” He exaggerated a deep breath, making the motion clear. “You’re not gonna faint on me or anything. Just stick with me, alright?”

You tried to follow his lead, but the panic was unrelenting. Your breaths were shallow and erratic, and the dizzy feeling in your head refused to fade.

“Damn it,” Kenny muttered under his breath, glancing around as if the answer might be hiding nearby. His hands came up to gently hold your face, his gloved palms warm against your skin. “Focus on me, not all the noise out there. Just me. Nothing else matters right now.”

You nodded faintly, but the panic still clawed at your chest. Despite Kenny’s calm tone, your breathing stayed uneven, and the tension didn’t ease.

Kenny rubbed the back of his neck, his calm exterior cracking slightly. “Okay, plan B.” He stood and reached for your hand, pulling you up with him.

You stumbled slightly but didn’t protest as he led you away from the crowd again. “Stick with me,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. “It’s too much out here—we’ll find somewhere better.”

The flashing lights and blaring sounds dimmed as Kenny guided you through the backstage area. His grip on your hand was firm, grounding you with every step. When he reached a small dressing room, he pushed the door open and ushered you inside. The quiet hit you like a wave, the muffled hum of the festival feeling a world away.

“Sit,” Kenny said, nodding toward the worn loveseat in the corner. You sank into the cushions, placing the pumpkin Kenny won for you down gently.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This is your big performance, and I’m—”

“Stop that,” Kenny interrupted, crouching in front of you again. His expression softened as he met your gaze. “You’re not ruining anything. You think I care about the show right now? Screw that. You’re way more important.”

“But Kenny, you’ve been working on this for weeks,” you stammered, guilt and panic twisting together in your chest. “I don’t want to mess this up for you—”

“You’re not messing up anything,” he said firmly. His hands rested on your knees, steadying you as he leaned closer. “Do you really think I’d ditch you like this? Come on. 

His words were meant to comfort, but they only tightened the knot of guilt in your chest. The panic surged again, your breathing quickening as your vision blurred.

“Shit, okay,” Kenny muttered, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. He stood quickly, unzipping his hoodie with one smooth motion. “Here, hold still.”

Before you could question him, Kenny draped the parka over your shoulders, tugging it snugly around you. The thick fabric was heavy, the weight pressing down like an anchor against the swirling chaos in your head.

“It’s probably sweaty or something, but deal with it,” Kenny said, his tone quieter now. He zipped the jacket up gently, pulling the hood over your head. “There. Now you’re like... cocooned or whatever. Better?”

You nodded slightly, the weight and warmth of the jacket working like a shield. The faint scent of Kenny—cheap cologne and campfire smoke—grounded you further. Your breaths began to slow, the pressure in your chest easing.

Kenny knelt back down, one hand still resting on your knee. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice rough but careful. “You’re doing fine. Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

You looked at him, his usually sharp grin replaced with something softer. “Thanks,” you murmured.

He shrugged, though his eyes didn’t leave yours. “You’d do the same for me,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint, lopsided smile. “And besides, you look kinda cute in my jacket. Just saying.”

A weak laugh escaped you, and he grinned a little wider. “There we go. Knew I could get you to smile.”

You glanced down, toying with the zipper of his parka where it rested snugly around your shoulders. The fabric was heavy but comforting, like a shield against the chaos outside. After a moment, you looked up at Kenny, hesitant but resolute.

“Can I still watch you play?” you asked softly, your fingers fidgeting with the edges of the jacket.

Kenny’s grin faded, replaced with a skeptical look. “Are you serious? You just had a full-on panic moment out there, and you wanna jump back in?” He crossed his arms, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. “No way. Not happening.”

“I’ll stay back,” you insisted, your voice small but steady. “I don’t have to be in the crowd. I just... I want to see you. Please?”

He sighed, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at you for a long moment. “You’re really gonna push this, huh?”

You nodded, holding his gaze despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

Kenny raked a hand through his messy blonde hair, muttering something under his breath. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You looked down, the weight of his disapproval making you shrink slightly. “I just don’t want to miss it. This is important to you.”

Kenny huffed a sharp laugh, crouching in front of you again. “You think I care about a stupid bassline more than I care about you not passing out? Come on, [Y/N]. Don’t make me be the responsible one here—it’s freaking me out.”

That earned a faint smile from you, and he rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said, his tone softening, “you wanna see the show? Fine. But no crowd. I’m not letting you get crushed by a bunch of sweaty festival-goers.”

“How?” you asked, your head tilting slightly.

He stood and offered you a hand. “We’ll sneak you backstage. You can watch from behind the amps or something. You’ll get the best view without risking a meltdown. Deal?”

Relief flooded through you, and you nodded as you took his hand. “Deal.”

Kenny pulled you to your feet, keeping a firm grip on your hand as he guided you through the narrow hallway backstage. The muffled sound of the festival buzzed around you, but the chaos felt a world away with Kenny leading the way.

When you reached a small clearing behind the stage, Kenny gestured toward a stack of equipment cases tucked behind a row of amps. “Here. You’ll be out of the way, but you can still see everything. Pretty sweet setup, right?”

You smiled, your heart warming at the effort he’d gone to for you. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth quirking into a faint grin. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I’m a sucker for that face.”

Before you could respond, one of the stagehands poked their head around the corner. “McCormick! One minute!”

Kenny groaned, tossing his head back dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” he called before turning back to you. His grin softened into something more genuine as he grabbed his bass from a nearby stand. “Stay put, alright? And don’t go wandering off. I’m trusting you to hold down the fort.”

“I’ll behave,” you promised, settling into your spot.

“Good,” he said, slinging the bass strap over his shoulder. As he turned toward the stage, he glanced back, his usual cocky grin flickering back into place. “Enjoy the show, VIP. Try not to fall for me too hard, alright?”

You rolled your eyes, a quiet laugh escaping as he strode onto the stage. The crowd erupted into cheers, the energy surging even from your secluded vantage point.

And as Kenny plucked the first notes on his bass, a faint smile tugged at your lips. Even from the shadows, it was impossible to miss the way he owned the moment—confident, chaotic, and effortlessly cool. The low, steady thrum of his bass anchored the band, a sound that felt grounding in the best way.

Between verses, Stan leaned into his mic, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he glanced toward Kenny. “Alright, everyone give it up for Kenny McCormick on bass,” he said, gesturing lazily. “No parka tonight, folks. Must be hell of a heatwave out here—what is it, like, 30 degrees?”

The crowd chuckled, but Jimmy piped up from the drums, stammering out a sharp jab between beats. “Y-y-yeah, or maybe he sold it for a—f-for a pack of smokes!”

The crowd laughed louder this time, and even Butters chimed in with an awkward giggle. “Aw, well, I think he looks real classy without it!”

Kenny rolled his eyes, leaning into his mic with a sharp smirk. “You guys are hilarious,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Really groundbreaking shit here—can’t wait to see this comedy tour take off. And for the record, Butters, if you think this is classy, I’m worried about what you’re settin’ the bar at.”

Butters turned red as the crowd laughed again, and Stan snorted, shaking his head. “Relax, dude, it’s just weird seeing your scrawny ass without fifty layers of orange wrapping it up. You look like a naked cat.”

Jimmy nearly dropped his drumsticks as he cackled. “M-maybe he lost a bet. Or f-f-finally figured out how zippers work!”

“Fuck all of you,” Kenny shot back, grinning despite himself as he flipped them off with one hand while still playing. The crowd cheered at his response, but Kenny’s sharp blue eyes flicked toward the shadows backstage. His grin softened slightly as he glanced your way, a silent check-in just for you.

You giggled, biting your lip to keep the sound from carrying, and pressed the sleeve of his parka to your mouth. The fabric felt warm and heavy, the weight of it keeping the sharp edges of the world at bay.

The band launched into their next song, Kenny’s bassline thrumming low and steady beneath the melody. The crowd surged with energy, and though the lights still flickered and the noise still echoed, it didn’t feel like too much anymore. With the parka wrapped snugly around you and Kenny just a glance away, everything felt manageable.

The music pounded through the stage, strong and unyielding, and Kenny kept stealing glances at you when he thought no one was looking. Every time his eyes met yours, a flicker of something warmer crossed his face—faint but unmistakable.

Maybe the chaos wasn’t gone, but it didn’t swallow you whole this time. With Kenny anchoring you, the noise and lights softened just enough.

He caught your eye again as the song ended, throwing you a quick wink before returning to his mic. “Alright, let’s hear it for Butters for not tripping over his own feet during that solo,” he said, jerking his thumb toward his bandmate.

Butters flushed red, muttering into his own mic. “I—I did good, though!”

“Yeah, you did great,” Kenny teased, his smirk widening. “For a guy who looks like his mom made him wear church shoes to the gig.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Butters let out a high-pitched whine, hiding his face behind his guitar.

From your spot behind the amps, you couldn’t help but laugh. And as you leaned back, hugging Kenny’s parka closer, the tension that had gripped you earlier felt distant, almost silly now. Maybe not everything would be this easy, but with someone like Kenny—sharp-tongued, chaotic, but steady when it mattered—it all felt a little less overwhelming.

You’d be okay.

[waldau-archived]

hihi could you write a fic with the prompts

it's very rude to stare + you look better in my clothes than i do with Vernon

hey, good lookin' — chwe hansol | 1,135 words | fluff

feel free to sue me because i couldn't find any other way to write this except for f2l. thank you for requesting!!!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader has slightly long hair.

“i think he hates me,” you say, leaning down to wash your hair in the sink for the last time. you’d almost forgotten how annoying it was to get sand out of your hair.

“no, he doesn’t,” vernon says, from where he’s sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat, watching you as you work.

“how do you know that?”

“i know what he’s like when he hates someone, and that’s not what he was like with you. it was just a mistake. you saw how he tripped before he tripped you, right?”

“that’s not good enough,” you grumble, turning off the tap. cold water runs down your neck, adding to the cold you’re already feeling from your wet clothes sticking to your skin. “he could’ve just fallen by himself. he didn’t need to pull me down, too. why did he do that?”

“i don’t know. but he doesn’t hate you, i promise.”

you stand up straight, an idea striking you. “i know why.”

“hmm?”

“he’s just jealous i’m your other best friend.”

vernon lets out an unrestrained snort at that, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “then he’d also be jealous of the fact that i have eleven other best friends, apart from you guys.”

“yeah, but we’re like your…best best friends. right?”

“right,” he says, a smile on his face. “my best best friends who hang out even without me sometimes. seungkwan definitely hates you.”

“ugh.” you hate when vernon makes sense, which is almost always. “then it’s probably because that ice cream in the fridge i ate was his.”

“maybe.”

“how am i supposed to know what belongs to who? don’t you guys label your food when you keep leftovers in the fridge?”

“nah. we’re kinda lazy.”

“i’m never going to understand how you didn’t end up killing each other over the years,” you say shaking your head.

“it's the power of friendship,” vernon says, deadpan.

you focus on not looking at him as you rub your hair with the towel he’s given you. you also try not to focus on the fact that you’re alone in the bathroom with your best friend who also happens to be your crush. even if he’s just watching you towel your hair dry. you probably look like a sad, wet puppy.

how romantic.

“okay, now what?” you ask, gesturing to yourself. your clothes are still as wet as they were twenty minutes ago. “think you can chuck me in the dryer for a while? till i get dry?”

vernon gets to his feet. “don’t worry, i have a spare set of clothes for this exact reason.”

“seungkwan pushing you into the ocean being the reason?”

“accidents,” he calls out. you wait patiently for him as he gets you a shirt and sweats, both of which are perfectly oversized.

it’s not the first time you’ve worn his clothes, thanks to your sleepovers or that one time you turned up to his house drenched in the rain, but it never fails to make you feel the same way — tingly, shy, feeling like someone you’re not.

you step out of the bathroom after giving yourself one last look to find vernon thumbing through his phone. you’re going to have to get ready for dinner now if you want to be on time.

you catch vernon’s gaze in the mirror as you comb your hair, making sure it’s not dripping into his clothes, but he doesn’t stop looking at you even when you move across the room to dry the towel on a chair. it’s only when you throw the towel at his head that he finally blinks out of his daze. it’s weird.

you know he zones out sometimes, thinking about something else while staring at nothing in particular. this is different. he’s focusing. on you. till you got him to stop, at least.

“it’s very rude to stare,” you say, picking up your towel. “don’t you know that?”

“sorry,” vernon says, licking his lips. “i didn’t mean to. you just…”

“what?”

“nothing. sorry,” he says, pocketing his phone. “think we’ll get late if we don’t leave now.”

you feel odd standing in his room, in his clothes. he’s never looked at you like that before. “do i…look weird? is that it?”

vernon turns to look up at you, a frown on his features. “no. of course not. you’ve never looked weird. if anything, you look good.”

oh. he’s never said that before, either.

“…even with my hair all weird?”

“even then. come here?” he asks, and you comply, standing in front of him where he’s sitting. he holds his hoodie up to you. “it’s still cold outside. wear this.”

there’s something…intimate about wearing his hoodie. it’s something he uses every single day, it’s one of his favourite possessions, and he doesn’t part with it so easily. still, you don’t question it as you slip it on, feeling warmer the moment you wear it.

and he’s looking at you again. it ignites a weird feeling in your stomach, like he’s looking at something you’re not aware of.

“vernon, i swear if you don’t tell me what’s up i’ll ask seungkwan to push—”

“you look better in my clothes than i do,” vernon says, not breaking eye contact. “i never realized that before.”

“i…what? don’t stay stuff like that,” you chide him, feeling your skin heat up.

“why not?”

“because it sounds like a...pickup line.”

“it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.” his eyes are fixed on the way you’re playing with the sweater paws, and it makes you want to say something completely outrageous. enough to destroy your friendship.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, instead.

“just that you look good in my clothes. nothing more.”

“that’s not something friends just…say to each other,” you mumble.

“that would be an issue if i wanted us to be just friends, wouldn’t it?”

“you…” you turn to look at him. there’s a neutral expression on his face, but you can tell he’s nervous, the way his brown eyes are looking at you. “want to be…more?”

“if i do?”

how is he so nonchalant about this?

“i won’t say no,” you say, reaching out for his hand. he gives it to you instantly. “but…i don’t want this to be a prank, either.”

“it’s not,” vernon assures you, squeezing your hand. “took me long enough to get here.” he pulls you down onto his lap. “and for the record, seungkwan told me he had a plan to help me confess,” he says, looking up at you apologetically. “i just didn’t expect him to do that.”

your heart’s racing, but you somehow manage to thread a hand through vernon’s hair. “guess we’ll have to get him all that ice cream back, then.”

“see? he doesn’t hate you.”

[mercillery]

MARINES AS GUARDIAN ANGELS!

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: this was a really random idea that’s been sitting in drafts for too long. someone please write more for the marines 💔

AOKIJI/KUZAN

As your guardian angel, Aokiji takes a chill approach—literally and figuratively.

Picture him lounging in an oversized beanbag cloud, sipping iced coffee (because hot coffee is just too much work) while keeping one lazy eye on you. He’s the kind of guardian angel who firmly believes in your freedom to live your life, make your choices, and occasionally trip over them like a newborn giraffe learning to walk.

“Growth, y'know?” he’d say with a shrug, ice cubes clinking in his drink. He's not hovering over you with a checklist of rules—he’s more like a life coach who doesn’t believe in micromanaging.

Aokiji's presence is undeniably calming, like a cool breeze on a sweltering day or the sound of rain when you're wrapped in a blanket. You won’t always see him stepping in, but that’s part of his method.

Subtle nudges? Oh, he’s got those in spades. You might feel an inexplicable urge to turn left instead of right, or decide to call it quits on a bad idea at the last second. That’s Aokiji for you. He’s like the universe’s “Are you sure about that?” pop-up notification—but without the nagging.

Now, don’t get it twisted: Aokiji isn’t lazy, he’s strategically hands-off. Why? Because he wants you to learn how to fend for yourself. “It’s your life, not mine,” he’d remind you, probably lying on a cloud hammock and tossing snowballs into the abyss for fun.

He genuinely believes in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself. He figures that if he’s always there holding your hand, you’ll never learn to walk on your own. “And besides,” he might add with a yawn, “you’d just get annoyed with me after a while.”

But let’s talk about when you mess up. You know those moments when you think, This is genius, but it turns out to be a disaster? Aokiji lets you go through with it—not because he enjoys watching you flail okay, maybe a little, but because he knows mistakes are part of the process. He might even be sitting there like, “Hmm, this’ll be a good lesson. Painful, sure, but memorable.”

Of course, he’s got limits. If your grand oopsie is about to land you in the ICU or worse, you’ll suddenly find yourself narrowly avoiding disaster, courtesy of a well-timed intervention. He’s not heartless, after all. “Eh, can’t let you die; that’d make me look bad,” he’d say with his trademark deadpan delivery.

The real humor here is in how he communicates with you. Instead of some grand angelic vision, you might get a sudden brain freeze while debating a bad idea. Or maybe a random bird drops an icicle near your feet, and you’re like, “What the heck?!”

Meanwhile, Aokiji’s up there smirking, muttering, “Message received, I hope.” He’s not about to hold neon signs that scream DON’T DO IT, but he’ll definitely leave breadcrumbs for you to figure things out.

Aokiji, as your guardian angel, is the embodiment of patience—like, Buddha-level patience, but with way more chill and significantly less sitting under trees. He doesn’t push, prod, or poke.

Instead, he’s the guy who casually tosses a single, offhand comment into the mix that leaves you spiraling into an existential crisis. You’ll find yourself staring into the distance, thinking, Wait… was that… wisdom? And it always is.

The kicker? He does it so rarely that every time he decides to share something meaningful, it’s like being hit by a truck made of profound truths. You walk away stunned, muttering, “Wow, okay, Mr. Cool Nonchalant Guardian Angel. Didn’t know I signed up for a TED Talk today.”

But those nuggets of wisdom? Oh, they stick. Some lodge themselves in your brain permanently, popping up at random moments years later, leaving you to wonder how this laid-back angel became a cornerstone of your moral philosophy. You’re not even mad about it. If anything, you’re a little awestruck. He’s like the personification of “quiet cool,” and every time he speaks, it feels like hearing the world’s calmest mic drop.

Aokiji’s ability to understand human emotions is almost spooky. He doesn’t just get you—he gets you.

You could be a sobbing mess of self-doubt and regret, and there he is, just vibing, no judgment in sight. “Yeah, you screwed up,” he’d say, leaning back like it’s no big deal. “But who hasn’t? That’s kind of the whole point of being human.” And somehow, those simple words are exactly what you needed to hear. If it were physically possible, he’d pat you on the back, but instead, you get a breeze, a faint chill, and a casual remark like, “Relax, kid. You’re doing fine. Maybe take a chill pill while you’re at it.”

He’s the angel you instinctively turn to during your worst emotional slumps, partly because he’s so good at making you feel better, and partly because you know he’ll listen without so much as raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t lecture or overwhelm you with advice; instead, he offers thoughtful insights that make you stop, think, and—more often than not—reassess everything you thought you knew. His words aren’t just comforting; they’re life-altering. You might find yourself walking away with a fresh perspective on your struggles, life in general, and the universe itself.

But here’s the kicker: Just when you’re about to thank him for being the coolest, most insightful guardian angel in existence, he’s gone.

Poof.

Out of sight.

You’ll look around, confused, only to realize he’s off napping somewhere, snoring like a chainsaw. He’s like that friend who gives you the world’s best advice and then immediately acts like it was no big deal. Honestly, you’re starting to think he does it on purpose—drops some wisdom, lets you stew on it, and then ghosts like he’s too cool for gratitude.

Still, you can’t help but admire the guy. Aokiji is the guardian angel you didn’t know you needed, with a knack for making you feel seen, understood, and, weirdly enough, okay with all the messy bits of life. Sure, he’s napping more often than not, but when he’s there? Oh, he delivers.

Aokiji is the kind of guardian angel who sees life not as a perfectly arranged puzzle but as a beautiful, chaotic mess—and he wants you to see it that way too. He encourages you to embrace the imperfections, those little unexpected quirks that make life worth living.

Spill coffee on your shirt during a meeting? He’d probably shrug and mutter, “Eh, you’ve got character now.” Trip over your own feet in public? “Style it out,” he’d say in your mind. If you’re too hard on yourself, he’s right there, reminding you to ease up. “Come on, kid, the world’s already tough enough. You don’t need to pile on yourself too.” His voice in your head is like a soothing balm for your overworked inner critic.

When it comes to guiding you, Aokiji isn’t about hand-holding or spoon-feeding. He’s more like the cool uncle who asks the kind of questions that leave you wondering, Wait, was that advice, or was he just messing with me?

He nudges, hints, and lets you figure it out. Trusting your instincts is something he wants you to master, and he’s there to give you the confidence to do it. But don’t expect a detailed PowerPoint presentation on what to do—this is Aokiji, not a corporate retreat.

Now, dangerous situations? That’s where Aokiji gets serious. He doesn’t mess around when someone—or something—threatens his human. If harm is coming your way, he steps in, ice-cold resolve and all, to make sure you’re safe.

He’s got a rule: if you mess up and learn the hard way, fine. That’s growth. But harm coming from another person? Absolutely not. He’s not about to let you get hurt on his watch. Whether it’s de-escalating a heated argument, keeping you out of physical danger, or just freezing the bad vibes in their tracks, Aokiji ensures you walk away unharmed, emotionally and physically intact. You don’t even realize how much he does for you half the time because, well, he’s subtle like that.

But here’s the best part—Aokiji’s big brother energy. Later that night, when the adrenaline has worn off, and you’re snuggled under your blanket, ready to doze off, he might quietly check in.

Maybe he descends from wherever angels chill out and, with his usual laid-back demeanor, murmurs, “You okay, kid?” And there it is again—that kid nickname. It’s not condescending, not in the least. It’s warm, protective, and a little teasing, like he’s the big brother you didn’t know you needed.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s technically an angel and not just your overchill sibling figure. He calls you “kid” so often, you half expect him to ruffle your hair one day.

Aokiji isn’t flashy or overbearing; he’s just there, in the best way possible—steady, reliable, and cool as ice. You feel safe knowing that, whether it’s finding beauty in life’s chaos or keeping you safe from harm, he’s always got your back.

KIZARU/BORSALINO

Kizaru’s style as your guardian angel is as perplexing as it is entertaining. He’s a walking enigma wrapped in golden light, delivering cryptic remarks that leave you scratching your head more often than not.

His approach? A strange mix of lighthearted teasing, unpredictable antics, and that signature laid-back demeanor that somehow manages to both calm and confuse you at the same time.

Imagine this: you’re stressing over a big decision, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Kizaru pops in with his usual drawl, “Oooh, what’s the rush? Doesn’t seem that urgent to me.” You turn to him, shooting him the most baffled “what?” look in existence, only to find him lazily smirking like he just walked off a beach. His expression clearly says, What? What?—and now you’re even more confused.

Naturally, you’re like, “What did you mean by tha—” but before you can finish, he casually snaps his fingers, and suddenly your coffee spills... somehow forming a perfect replica of a smiley face on the table.

You’re left staring at the mess, dumbfounded, as Kizaru stretches, mutters, “Guess that’s your sign,” and vanishes into thin air, leaving you no closer to answers but definitely distracted enough to forget what you were worrying about.

When it comes to intervention, Kizaru operates on a whole other wavelength. He’s not going to swoop down dramatically to save you from danger—that’s too ordinary for him. No, his methods are indirect and borderline bizarre.

Maybe he makes your phone randomly restart, delaying you just enough to avoid crossing paths with a reckless driver. Or perhaps your shoe suddenly comes untied, forcing you to stop and miss stepping into a bad situation.

It all seems coincidental, but then, just as you’re shaking your head at your “bad luck,” you catch the faintest sound, like a whisper carried on the breeze: “Oooh, close one.” It’s so distant, so ridiculously faint, that you almost convince yourself you imagined it. Almost.

Kizaru’s interventions always leave you wondering. Is he deliberately cryptic for fun, or is there a method to his madness? Either way, his unpredictable nature means you never know exactly what to expect.

One day, he might save you with the equivalent of a cosmic prank; the next, he’ll throw you a curveball disguised as the world’s most nonsensical advice. But that’s just Kizaru for you—never straightforward, always keeping you on your toes, and somehow managing to make you laugh in the middle of chaos.

Despite his laid-back attitude, Kizaru has an almost intimidating depth of knowledge and experience. He’s been around the cosmic block a few times, but you’d never know it by the way he casually tosses advice your way—if you can even call it advice. His pearls of wisdom tend to come wrapped in riddles and cryptic one-liners that make you feel like you’re playing some celestial guessing game.

You’ll stand there, trying not to pull your hair out, and blurt, “Can you just give me a normal answer for once?!” But no, not Kizaru. Instead, he’ll give you that trademark smirk, shrug in slow motion, and murmur something like, “Mmm… why do today what can wait until tomorrow?”

Then he vanishes, leaving you with nothing but your rising blood pressure and the gnawing suspicion that his nonsense will somehow make sense later. Spoiler alert: it does. And when it finally clicks, you’re equal parts impressed and annoyed because, of course, he knew what he was talking about all along.

But let’s not mistake his nonchalance for indifference. Beneath that carefree exterior, Borsalino is fiercely loyal to you. He might act like he’s just here for the vibes, but the truth is, he’s always keeping a close eye on you. His interventions are so seamless, so bizarrely timed, that they feel almost miraculous.

Picture this: you’re seconds away from stepping into a complete disaster, and suddenly, out of nowhere, you hear his voice drawl, “Ooooh… nice try, but no.” Before you can even process what’s happening, the threat is neutralized in the most inexplicable way.

One time, you’re about to walk into a room that’s about to collapse, and bam—the door jams before you can enter. You stand there, frustrated, yanking at the handle like it’s some kind of cosmic joke.

Later, when you realize what you narrowly avoided, you hear the faint echo of his chuckle. “Bet you’re glad you didn’t get in,” he’d say, probably lounging on a cloud, sunglasses slightly askew.

And his methods? Completely unconventional, borderline ridiculous, and yet undeniably effective. He doesn’t fight danger head-on. Instead, he works smarter, not harder, defusing situations in ways that leave you standing there, blinking, like, *Wait, what just happened?* Did the danger really disappear, or did Kizaru just bend the laws of reality around you for fun? Probably both.

Kizaru is the wildcard of the guardian angel trio, and oh boy, does he embrace the role with gusto. Unpredictable, occasionally maddening, and always one step ahead, he keeps you on your toes like it’s his celestial hobby.

His favorite pastime? Teasing you into oblivion. Whether it’s a cheeky remark about your life choices or a cryptic observation that leaves you spiraling in self-reflection, he somehow manages to fluster and enlighten you in the same breath. You’ll glare at him, cheeks puffed in frustration, and he’ll just raise an eyebrow, his smirk practically saying, “Did I say something wrong? Noooo… I don’t think so."

When life has you wound tighter than a violin string, Kizaru steps in with his patented chaotic chill energy to shake things up. He’s the angel equivalent of a “live a little” poster, casually reminding you to loosen up and stop sweating the small stuff.

Overthinking something? He might “accidentally” cause your phone to die mid-rant, leaving you forced to sit with your thoughts and, begrudgingly, chill out. Spilling your coffee? Misplacing your keys? Yeah, that’s probably him too. But hey, it’s harmless enough—just enough chaos to nudge you into realizing that life doesn’t always have to be taken so seriously.

His humor is his greatest weapon against your stress. Say you’re in the middle of a meltdown over tomorrow’s presentation; he’ll saunter in, leisurely as ever, and go, “Oooh… stressing already? You didn’t even mess up yet! Guess you like to start early, huh?”

Cue your annoyed groan as he lounges somewhere nearby, maybe filing his nails or inspecting his sunglasses. His nonchalant attitude can be infuriating, but deep down, you know he’s got a point.

And Kizaru isn’t just messing around—he’s strategic about his nonsense. He knows when to lighten the mood and when to drop a line that actually sticks with you. Sure, he can be playful, but his ultimate goal is to remind you that life is meant to be lived, not just stressed over.

Tomorrows’ worries? That’s for tomorrow. Today’s? Eh, deal with them and move on. He’s not about to let his adorable, flustered little human keel over from worry. "Can’t have you overthinking yourself to an early grave," he’d joke, smirking as you roll your eyes.

AKAINU/SAKAZUKI

Oh boy, where do we even begin with Akainu?

Strap in, because this guy takes the concept of “guardian angel” to a whole new level. You thought guardian angels were supposed to be all soft and comforting? Not Akainu. Nope. He’s not here to coddle you; he’s here to run your life like a military operation. Imagine having a drill sergeant and a guardian angel rolled into one, and you’ll start to get the picture.

Akainu takes his role very seriously. Like, obsessively so. His whole vibe screams, I will protect you at all costs, even if it’s from yourself, and you will thank me later.

And yeah, you do feel safe with him around, but let’s be real—it’s hard to relax when you’ve got someone barking orders about how to “make better life choices” while glaring at your empty water bottle like hydration is a personal affront. "Drink more water. NOW. How are you supposed to survive without proper hydration?"

He’s firm, he’s direct, and he does not mess around. If you so much as think about doing something remotely risky, Akainu is there, arms crossed, his eyebrows furrowed in the most intimidating dad-face imaginable. “What are you doing? Did you think that through? No? Then don’t do it.” And if you try to argue? Forget it. “I’m your guardian angel, not your yes-man. Sit down.”

Anything he sees as a threat—bad friends, bad habits, bad decisions—gets obliterated faster than you can say, “But Akainu, wait—” Nope, no waiting. He’s already neutralized the problem, metaphorically or maybe literally incinerated it, and is giving you the look. You know the one. The look that says, “This wouldn’t have happened if you listened to me the first time."

And let’s talk about how thorough he is when it comes to your safety. During moments of crisis, Akainu’s got the whole situation handled before you even realize there’s a crisis.

Someone’s being aggressive toward you? They’re suddenly very apologetic. Demonic entity lurking around? They take one look at Akainu and nopenopeNOPE their way out of existence. Seriously, demons probably swap horror stories about him around their little demon campfires. “Yeah, I tried to mess with one of his humans once. Never again. The guy’s a walking no-fly zone."

His presence is like a massive, unyielding shield—a big, lava-hot wall of “try it, I dare you” energy. It’s comforting in a Wow, I’m invincible with this guy around kind of way, but also mildly terrifying because Akainu does not do half-measures. He’s all in, all the time.

Despite all his drill-sergeant-meets-volcano-dad intensity, Akainu has a surprising amount of faith in you. Shocking, right? He genuinely believes in teaching you resilience and strength. Sure, he’s the guy who will body-check a demon into another dimension if they even look at you funny, but he also knows that shielding you from every challenge isn’t going to help you grow.

So he lets you struggle a little—not in a cruel way, but just enough for you to toughen up and figure things out. But don’t worry, he’s got an internal alarm that goes off the second things get too real. Stakes too high? He’s there faster than you can say, “Wait, is this lava?”

Here’s the thing about Akainu: he values discipline like it’s a currency, and he really wants you to learn how to take care of yourself. But—big “but” here—he also respects your autonomy.

If you don’t want to listen to him? Fine. That’s on you. Just don’t expect him to take it lightly when your bad decision inevitably explodes in your face. “Oh, so this is what happens when you ignore my advice? Huh. Interesting. Didn’t see that coming. Except I did. I told you it would happen. Repeatedly.”

Even if you do ignore him, curse at him, or (heaven forbid) give him attitude, Akainu isn’t going anywhere. Sure, he might look like he’s about to erupt into a full-on volcanic tantrum, his metaphorical head steaming like an active geyser, but here’s the kicker: he’ll still protect you. Because you’re his human, and you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not.

And, yeah, he’ll scold you afterward. Oh boy, will he scold you. His lectures are legendary—part life lesson, part motivational speech, part “how do you not already know this?!” But underneath the frustration and the stern tone, you can tell it all comes from a place of genuine care.

His blunt, sometimes harsh advice might feel like a slap in the face (or a splash of molten lava), but it’s always honest, always unfiltered, and always rooted in his desire to see you thrive.

Akainu keeps a close, very close watch over your life. You think you’re sneaky? Think again. He’s analyzing every decision you make like a CIA agent reviewing classified files. If there’s even a hint of danger, he’s already two steps ahead, ready to intervene. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything, ever.

You’re not going to get soft reassurances or “everything will magically work out” vibes from him. Instead, you get the no-nonsense truth, served with a side of tough love and a lot of crossed arms.

If you’re reckless, self-destructive, or just plain dumb about your decisions, Akainu is going to let you hear about it. You’ll practically feel his fiery glare boring into your soul as he gruffly commands, “Stop that.” Not a suggestion, not a request—just a straight-up order. And, let’s be honest, you’ll probably stop, if only because his tone makes it sound like not stopping would somehow make the Earth implode.

While Aokiji is all about sprinkling breadcrumbs and letting you follow the trail like some kind of life lesson scavenger hunt, Akainu is not about that life. Oh no. Akainu’s approach is more… let’s call it “visually and audibly overwhelming.”

Picture this: he’s standing in front of you holding a giant, blinding neon sign that screams, “DON’T DO IT!” Not enough? Don’t worry—he’s also got a roaring semi-truck idling nearby, a megaphone cranked up to the max, a PA system blasting the same warning on repeat, and, for good measure, an air raid siren wailing in the background. Oh, and fireworks. Big, loud ones spelling out, “I SAID NO.”

And yet, somehow, beneath all the volcanic intensity, Akainu has… a soft spot for you. Yes, Akainu, the walking embodiment of no-nonsense justice, has a tender side. Shocking, I know. Don’t expect him to go all mushy on you—he’s not about to hand out hugs or write heartfelt letters. His care comes through in a way that’s 100% Akainu: practical, efficient, and borderline bossy.

For instance, if you’re not eating properly, he’ll make sure you do—even if it means somehow orchestrating events so your favorite meal shows up at the perfect time. “Coincidence”? Please. That’s Akainu, silently shaking his head at your questionable life choices and ensuring you don’t faint from malnutrition.

Dangerous situation? Forget about it. You’re already being quietly guided away before you even realize the threat existed. Your environment feels oddly stable and secure? Yep, that’s him too, working behind the scenes like the overprotective angel he is.

It’s wild to think about, but Akainu really does care in his own gruff, no-frills way. He might not shower you with affection or words of encouragement, but his actions? Oh, they speak volumes. Because at the end of the day, Akainu’s brand of love is this: making sure his human is alive, well, and not being an idiot.

When it comes to emotional support, Akainu is… well, let’s just say he’s a bit out of his element. It’s not that he doesn’t care—he does, deeply—but the man wouldn’t know how to ask “Are you okay?” if you handed him a script and a teleprompter. Emotional vulnerability? Yeah, that’s uncharted territory for him.

If you’re having a rough time, he’ll ensure you’re safe and secure, no questions asked. Did someone hurt you? He’s already dealt with it—don’t ask how. Are you overwhelmed? Suddenly, your to-do list is mysteriously cleared, and your surroundings feel unnervingly calm. Did you notice your favorite comfort item conveniently reappear out of nowhere? Yeah, that’s him. He’s got your back, but don’t expect him to say it out loud. Words are not his weapon of choice—lava fists are, but we digress.

And, oh, he will check up on you later. Not in a “Hey, how are you holding up?” kind of way. No, his style is more... covert ops. Picture this: you’re fast asleep, blissfully unaware, and Akainu is leaning over you like a silent hawk, his brows furrowed as he inspects your face. Is your expression too tense? Are you frowning? Smiling? Breathing weird? He’s taking mental notes like it’s a military debriefing.

He might even mutter to himself while pacing. “They seem fine… I think. Maybe. But what if they’re not? Should I—no, that’s stupid. They’ll be fine. Probably.” Eventually, he narrows his eyes, nods in silent approval, and disappears back to wherever guardian angels hang out, fully convinced that his midnight reconnaissance mission was a success.

It’s almost sweet—if it weren’t just a tiny bit unsettling. But hey, that’s Akainu for you. He may not be a master of emotional nuance, but he’s got his own way of showing he cares. Whether it’s through practical actions, silent observations, or his “secret” check-ins, you know he’s always watching over you… in his Akainu way. And honestly? That’s more comforting than he’ll ever admit.

[queerslurheritageposts]

today I looked in the mirror and laughed. the person staring back at me was a tranny.

I’ve been longing to look like a faggot for a while now - if you don’t see me and feel the urge to call me a homophobic slur on sight, what’s the point? - and on some random inconsequential Tuesday I got to see it. My hair was messy from being in bed all day, I was wearing an oversized x-files t-shirt my mom put on me. I looked in the mirror and said “wait, I look like a teenage boy.” But that wasn’t right. I also looked like a girl. then I realized I looked like some rowdy androgynous tranny. I cheered.

anyway I wanted to share this with you. First moment of real gender euphoria in a long while. My non-binary faggot tranny ass was so happy. Felt like a real milestone.

congratulations!!