#green pencil case guy

[definedvines]

joker x green pencil case guy my eyes have been opened

[newsonashipopinionpoll]

[i-need-a-slurpee]

Fellas I've been working tirelessly in my lab to bring you guys a new crackship

Tell me what you think of Yusuke and the green pencil case kid that sits behind akira.

NOW HEAR ME OUT

It makes no sense and honestly this is all one big bit I have going on but listen here's the set up.

For those of you who don't know this is green pencil case kid

He doesn't have a name but he does have a green pencil case (not seen in this image) he's seen practically everything Akira has done on his desk. He can see Akira making his infiltration tools, texting in class and he can definitely see Mona just sitting in his desk. He knows Akira's weird but he doesn't say anything, he minds his own business and doesn't snitch which is why we like him.

Now with this information in mind let me set the scene!

Green pencil case kid is walking out of Shujin ready to head home for the day when he sees that weird kid with the desk cat meeting up with a very handsome blue haired stranger outside of the school. Bro is instantly captivated by resident pretty boy Yusuke and realizes he has to get this guy's number. How's he gonna do it?

He asks Akira, plain and simple. Now Akira is extremely skeptical of green pencil case guy because he's never so much as talked to him and yet here he is asking for one of his best friends' numbers. Akira is very protective of his friends so he wouldn't just go around giving out their numbers to anyone who asked. He realizes though that his classroom shenanigans have probably given his table neighbor multiple headaches so he compromises. He's gonna get to know green pencil case guy for the rest of the week to determine whether or not he's trustworthy enough to have Yusuke's number.

The week is hell for poor green pencil case boy as Akira drags him to weirdest places he's ever been. A hole in the wall cafe, a weapons shop, a sketchy clinic, and jazz club with some strange detective that has some weird tension going on with Akira. He realizes he might've been third wheeling their date but he doesn't want to dwell on that actually. Either way he ends up joining in on all of Akira's shenanigans throughout the week. By the end he's exhausted but content because Akira actually gave him Yusuke's number!

He learns a lot about this handsome blue haired stranger mostly that he's just as weird as Akira but it doesn't bother him at all, he's used to weird people at this point. He's a lot less intense in his hobbies though, rather than having to run around for different part time jobs or having homoerotic jazz nights Yusuke paints! He attends Kosei high and is an excellent artist.

Their first date is to an art exhibit where green pencil case kid reveals he's an amateur artist himself, all he does is doodle in class when he has the time. They're simple but they give him something to do when he gets bored and Yusuke, ever the art enthusiast, absolutely loves them. Yusuke thinks he doodles capture his artistic vision wonderfully, they're fairly simple but it's fitting for green pencil case guy. Speaking of the pencil case, Yusuke loves the color and how it stands out from the rest of green pencil case guy's supplies. He says it's a good reflection of the artistic side green pencil case kid hides from the world, his life is simple and mundane but there's that color that he has added to his own life. Something that is entirely his and proof that he exists outside of what might seem like a greater narrative.

Green pencil case guy appreciates Yusuke's words more than he thought he would. He's always felt very insignificant around his peers, like he didn't have a purpose like they did. He realizes just how perceptive Yusuke is, which is another thing he likes about him.

Needless to say they go on more art dates.

Listen I know it's really stupid but they're important to me okay. I'm gonna give them the love story of the summer. Yusuke and green pencil case kid for the win 💪

[spaced-out-muses]

Um.

Uh oh. Oh. Oh no—

Can you tell I'm enjoying Persona so far sakjdsgfdhgfhgj

[blossoms-and-possums]

50 cents to get riptide in multiple colours 🫡

what a bargain. i fucking love kmart

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 19

(I know I'm tech on a break this week, but I could use the serotonin.) masterpost

“He understands that I am coming over?” Damian asked as he inspected his pencil case to make sure he had everything he needed. Father would be picking him up from art class to fetch lunch.

“Yep, Danny knows we’re bringing lunch over,” Grayson answered. His thumb swiped idly across his phone.

Damian took a slow breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He loved Grayson, but it did not mean that the other was not an idiot sometimes. Sometimes family meant loving someone even though they were an idiot, Damian reminded himself.

In an attempt to start again, Damian stayed silent until he was sure that he had all of his supplies in his messenger bag. “I meant, does Danny understand that it is specifically me bringing the food? Does Danny understand who I am?”

“Oh, Dami baby, yeah,” Grayson said, voice softening in a way that made Damian bristle. At least Grayson finally set his phone down. “Jay talked to him about it and is still there at the apartment with Danny now. I’ll over over to give Jason a break and be there when you and Bruce come. Do you want me to double check with Danny before you arrive?”

Damian frowned as he adjusted the strap on his bag.

“Yes,” Damian answered after a pause and when he could meet Grayson’s eyes confidently. “I believe that the redundancy would not go amiss.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll be sure to double check before you and Bruce get there.”

“Acceptable,” Damian said and let to find Pennyworth for his ride to class.

Doing art calmed him. That knowledge had been a surprise at first. While Damian had, of course, learned about art as part of his cultural and historical training, actually being able to engage in art was was something entirely knew. Something that was available to Damian only because of his Father’s allowance.

No, that was not quite right. Father didn’t allow Damian to do art, Father simply wanted them to be happy and art is what made Damian… perhaps not happy, but at least more at peace.

Peace had been such a rare thing in Damian’s life.

He still didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Annoyingly, class that day didn’t quite manage to tamper the churning in Damian’s gut. He could (and would) ignore the feeling, of course, but that did not mean it wasn’t there.

Or that it didn’t grow as Damian was waiting for Father to pick him up for class.

“You have put in the order we discussed?” Damian asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Yes, it should be ready shortly after we get there,” Father answered. “You were out quickly today.”

“Tch,” Damian looked away from his father’s searching gaze and focused on the world outside the window. He hated to have tells, but in a family of detectives it was impossible not to. “If it unlikely to be ready, perhaps we should stop by the Turkish bakery that is near. Surely there are items there that are not too sweet for his diet.”

“That’s a nice idea,” Father agreed with a thoughtful hum. “He may have never had them before so we can get a little selection of what you think he needs to try.”

Damian worked not to physically freeze. That felt suddenly like a great deal of responsibility. Which was silly, it was simply food.

“That is a sound idea,” Damian said instead of trying to face his sudden worry.

It was even more overwhelming in the face of all the options. Damian certainly spent far too long making a selection, but Father doesn’t rush him, so Damian tries to allow himself the time. The food is easily acquired after. Far too quickly that they were in front of the safehouse door. Father rested one hand on the back of Damian’s back, a bracing presence, before he knocked.

“Coming!” Grayson called needlessly through the door a few moments before he it swung open. “Hey guys, come in. It’s all good.”

Damian resisted the urge to nod to that, took a breath, and crossed the threshold.

Danny sat on the couch. The fabled day saving blue bear was clutched in the boy’s lap; clutched too tightly. Damian shot Grayson an accusatory look. Clearly it wasn’t ‘all good’.

Grayson rolled his eyes and took the box of sweets from Damian to take to the kitchen with Father.

Damian was left alone with Danny.

At least it gave Damian time to properly study the other boy. Not blood son. Clone. Better and worse at once— a copy of Father. It was clear how much Danny looked like Bruce, a redundant thought now that they knew Danny was a clone, but it crossed Damian’s mind all the same. It was odd to see the still slightly sunken cheeks and too prominent collar bones on someone that looked so much like Father, so much more like Father than Damian did.

Idly, Damian wondered if Danny would ever reach Father’s stature, what with his past. Damian himself had started to grown into wild shoulders and broad chest that would someday be his body over the last year, but Danny had not.

Danny, at least a year older, was still far too slight.

But older.

The oldest blood.

Would he try to take Damian’s place now? It would only be just, with how poorly Damian had behaved when he first arrived, especially to Drake. And Damian’s brash attacks, Danny would have the right to his. He was oldest…

“Are… are you alright?”

Damian’s head snapped up at Danny’s words. When had he lost his focus?

“I do not know,” Damian said, too honest words tumbling across his tongue without his permission.

He didn’t know.

[ashtxrie]

oh no... am i falling in love? (sunoo)

PAIR. high school!sunoo x gn!reader GENRE. fake dating au, high school au, best friends to lovers, fluff WORD COUNT. 2.2k WARNINGS. none! NOTES. first post kinda nervous!! <//3 i need a sunoo irl he is truly the greenest of green flags

you and sunoo are those friends

you’ve got that type of friendship where something clicked and suddenly you were both attached at the hip for years

because apparently having the same clear muji pencil case with the holy grail 0.5 black muji pen at the beginning of middle school meant best friends ride or die in seventh-grade culture

like, someone who prioritized aesthetics in notetaking as much as you did? even in the confines of this crusty campus? crazy.

but anyway, with you being absolutely intent on making friends, sunoo couldn’t get rid of you if he tried but pls he could never survive without you anyway... who else would he trust enough to exchange his top-tier notes with?

and since then you’ve both been best friends for life! well, ever since the +6 with the introduction of sunoo's other friends [read: the rest of enhypen...]

and at first you were super happy because new friends!

but then they kind of stopped hanging out with you in the middle of sophomore year or so and went off into their own little world

and you were a little sad

ok maybe a lot sad. devastated, even.

but that was okay because that meant you were able to meet new friends and expand your horizons! you even got the chance to focus on yourself and join some new clubs, too!

who even is sunoo anymore lmao you don’t know him

but anyway

it was junior year and you were so tired of your friends bugging you to get a s/o

“[name], why don’t you date someone?”

“you’d really hit it off with so and so, don’t you think?”

“just put yourself out there”

ರ_ರ

ayo... excuse me

so one day you just can’t take it anymore

and maybe you should’ve thought this through but... nope

you don’t pause to think things through

because life is for living in the moment hell yes yolo gang

“umm guys i’m already dating someone!”

needless to say your friends go INSANE

like who tf is [name] gatekeeping from us they’re so fake /j

so like any sane and mentally adept person, you say the first name that comes to mind

“hahaha … sunoo!”

your friends stare at you. flabbergasted, shocked, stunned beyond words.

blink blink

“but … weren’t you guys just friends”

“NO”

you’re panicking but

trust

“we’re in LOVE”

ur friends are really like ok whatever, but go off

and that is how you find yourself dragging yourself over to sunoo's fifth period and placing your hands on sunoo's shoulders

“promise me you won’t freak out”

and ofc sunoo is already freaking out

bc why are you standing in front of the ap lang classroom with this crazily determined face and forcing him to listen to you

and this is how you get into this situation

with sunoo having a literal double take and you doing your best "pls help me out i beg of you" impression

“i can’t DATE you”

what

you give sunoo your best professional face even though inside you’re ???

bc um is it that bad to date you??

you are confused???

you’ve saved sunoo thousands of times in his high school career in both academics and social standing he can afford to pretend to date you ONCE

“WHY NOT”

“BECAUSE”

...

is he being fr rn

obviously you’re not getting anywhere and you turn around to walk away, kind of annoyed

“fine then, i’ll just find someone else to date me.” shrug (dies inside).

as soon as you say that, it’s like you’ve flipped a switch and suddenly sunoo is very concerned and almost a little upset

and when you don’t notice him contemplating something, he runs in front of you and nearly knocks you over

“second thoughts?”

sunoo scowls

although it looks more like a lil pout pushing at his lips and he crosses his arms

lmao who is this and what’s happened to sunoo

you shrug and start to leave for real until sunoo reaches out to tug at your arm

“NO, NO WAIT … I’LL DO IT”

you whirl around immediately and you are needless to say, very relieved!

｡◕‿◕｡

“perfect!”

but apparently sunoo hasn’t recovered from his fall from before

bc he can’t stop rubbing his hand against his neck and his face is all blotchy and pink

kinda cute, but in a best friends way.  like wowie my best friend looks kinda adorable look at that boy go

but ofc sunoo has to ruin the special moment because he offhandedly says, “shouldn’t we have rules or something?”

rules???

RULES???

this is fake dating sunoo wdyfm rules? that's so silly goofy

“huh?”

“like … things not to do? maybe one big rule is not ruining our friendship???”

ʘ‿ʘ

oh

he kinda smart for that

“ok easy then, just don’t fall in love with me”

apparently this is the WRONG thing to say?

sunoo is RED like boy is not pink anymore his cheeks are burning red

“you can’t just say that?”

????

you are confused bc what does that even mean

“why not?”

“that’s like ...  y-you you can’t just say that.”

you are, if possible, even more confused?

“okay and?”

sunoo blinks

pls this boy has the audacity to just shrug

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

u are dumb af sunoo bout to throw hands here

but he won’t bc he loves u <3

so fifteen minutes later you guys decide to make three big rules

sunoo had a whole list of like twenty but you narrowed it down to these:

1. don’t ruin ur friendship

2. no kissing

3. and ur paying for three rounds of mint choco ice cream after this is over

honestly you think this is kinda rude considering sunoo is richer than ur entire life but whatever, at least he’s not leaving you out to the wolves

so when it’s finally time to put this fake dating thing to the test, you tug sunoo over to your side of the table during lunch and make sure to swing his hand

which actually feels kind of nice??

like you’ve never actually thought about this before

but sunoo is comforting

his hand fits right in yours, and he’s so warm

and i mean haha it’s not like this is a new thing, you two hold hands all the time!! but adjkaldjkfl not in a dating way

ur friends are shocked. bamboozled.

like they never thought you’d actually show up with a DATE

and bc they’re all RUDE they grill sunoo

but sunoo is best boy

best bf

and answers all their questions like a pro

that's my man

i mean what???

ur so proud

you let ur head rest against sunoo's shoulder and BITCH

sunoo presses a kiss to ur forehead

YO........................ insane.

why are u so happy? what is this??

it’s just so gentle and soft and you feel your heart getting all mushy and warm

your friends all give a big collective aww because one, they’re annoying af and yes y’all are cute cute and this is cute

but ur going through some existential crisis

and later when you’re walking with sunoo to all your classes, you can’t stop thinking that hey, this fakedating thing isn’t that bad

but whatever it’s just cause u miss spending time with sunoo!

yes, that’s it!

you’re just sad that sunoo always hangs out with his new group and you don’t get to see him as much

so this is nice!

you’re just going through some bff nostalgia rn... it's just gonna take some time for [name].exe to start working again

anyway now bc of this fakedating thing, you and sunoo just spend so much time together

like you guys have always been best friends, but this feels different

sunoo will run over to you when he sees you and wrap his arms around your waist

the first time he did it, he had the cuteness to go ���is this okay? are you okay? is this too much?"

and YOUR HEART WENT !!!!!

you might’ve blushed

okay you did

but you convince yourself it’s just because ur touch starved and bitchless

c’mon... get it together

but whenever you call sunoo and wave at him, his face just LIGHTS up

and you’re pretty sure yours does too

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

needless to say, you kinda don’t want this all to end

because somewhere in the middle of all this, your head has gone from calling sunoo your fake boyfriend to your real boyfriend

and you don’t really want to go back to just being friends if you’re honest

wait hold up

uh oh

UH OH CODE RED

INTERPOL INTERPOL.....

did you just admit you liked sunoo?? in a FOR REALS way?

UMMMMM

so like the only way you know how to deal with things, you avoid it!

you start to act really distant

and now whenever sunoo wraps his arms around you, you stiffen up

and sunoo like the angel he is pulls away so quickly bc ?? is his best friend upset? uncomfortable?

did HE make his best friend for life, his 4lifer, uncomfortable? omg this isn’t ok what is happening

everyone can tell something is up

ofc they can, what with you going to the extent of running away whenever you see sunoo and sunoo reacting like the entire light got blown out his life

and bffr sunoo may be innocent but he ISN'T dumb

he knows your schedule he KNOWS you’re ignoring him

and baby is upset

because lately you’ve been starting to feel a lot more to him

and now you’re just gone??

that’s not okay and sunoo isn’t just gonna sit around and be sad

if there’s something he can do he’s gonna do all he can to try to fix it!

he corners you one day and holds up an angry piece of paper

“excuse me but you broke rule number one which is, in case you forgot, don’t RUIN OUR FRIENDSHIP”

“oh haha uh sunoo! hi uhh i gotta go 👉👉 ”

sunoo's face falls

and that was it

you just wanna hold his cheeks and tell him things are fine and that you love him

wait WHAT

but sunoo is still staring at you with that wounded look

like you’ve just ripped up his heart and torn it to shreds

bc that’s kinda what you’re doing

omg what’ve you done

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

“sunoo…”

his eyes lock onto yours so fast that you’re afraid he’s got whiplash

your mouth goes dry, and for a few moments it’s hard to talk

but you finally manage to tell him that “i don’t think we should fake date anymore.”

sunoo's face breaks

his eyes go wide, and it looks like he wants to stagger. and he almost does, just a little bit

“is it something i did?”

WHAT

this boy

kim sunoo is really gonna be the death of you

you’re shaking your head back and forth so fast because NO of course not of course this isn’t his fault

sunoo is Not Okay, and he looks so, so concerned for you. “because i swear i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. if i screwed up just tell me and i can fix it, [name], please”

you shake ur head, already starting to panic.  “of course not.  it’s not YOU sunoo. i just can’t fake date you because--”

you clamp your hands over your mouth

“because?” sunoo prompts, his voice careful

you just shake your head, already starting to turn and run back to somewhere, anywhere because this is stupid and you’re scared

terrified, actually

but sunoo just takes your hand and tugs you backward a bit, almost like a scene from a movie

you do that little twirl back and are face to face with the one and only

“do you … do you like me?” sunoo asks

that’s it

it’s out

you’re ready for your entire friendship with sunoo to come crashing down

“do you?” he repeats softly

you try to pull away but sunoo isn’t having it

he’s still holding onto your hand, gently, of course, and his eyes are boring into yours

you’re too scared to look because you’re afraid of what you’ll find

but when you can’t take it anymore and finally tilt your head up you realize something important

because his eyes aren’t full of disgust

in fact, that’s further from the truth

kim sunoo is staring at you with the biggest heart eyes you’ve ever seen and you’re confused as to how you’ve never seen this sooner

it’s almost like you’re his whole world, and now you can’t fucking breathe

is this real? chat is this fr rn??

your heart’s pounding in your chest so fast and there’s something bursting at your lungs

you nod faintly.  “yes. i like you”

the huge grin that spreads across sunoo's face is everything

he rushes forward to pull you into a gigantic hug, even lifting you up a little as he spins you around and lets out a little happy noise

“i’ve liked you forever, [name], i can’t believe this is real”

what

so u could’ve been dating sunoo before??

“you dork why didn’t you tell me?”

“because you didn’t like me like that!”

BITCH WHAT

“well maybe i was confused” you pipe back

sunoo just laughs, burying his head in your shoulder.  “i’m so happy right now.”

and honestly ?

so are you !!

[estellan0vella]

A Chance Encounter Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the faint scent of pastries in the bustling café. You sit by the window, the warm sunlight streaming through the glass, casting a soft glow on your sketchbook. With each stroke of your pencil, a new design takes shape, intricate patterns and delicate lines flowing effortlessly from your hand. It's your sanctuary, a place where you lose yourself in the art, forgetting the world around you.

Suddenly, a shadow falls over your sketchbook. You look up to find a man standing there, his pink hair catching the light, his red eyes locked onto your drawings. He's tall, muscular, and covered in tattoos, each one more intricate than the last. He exudes an air of confidence and mystery that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Those are some impressive sketches," he says, his voice deep and smooth. "Do you mind if I take a closer look?"

You nod, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. He studies your drawings with a keen eye, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he pulls out a business card and scribbles something on the back before handing it to you.

"I'm Sukuna," he introduces himself with a charming smile. "I own a tattoo parlour nearby. I'd love to see more of your work. Here's my card, and I've added my personal number. Give me a call if you're interested."

With that, he walks away, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a business card that feels like a golden ticket. You can't help but smile as you slip the card into your pocket, already anticipating the conversation you'll have later with your flatmate.

That night, you and Gojo settle into your usual routine: wine, face masks, and a cheesy movie playing in the background. The soft glow of the TV casts a cozy ambiance in the room as you recount the events of the day. Gojo's eyes widen in disbelief, his face covered in a bright green face mask.

"Wait, wait, wait," he says, sitting up straight and nearly spilling his wine. "You're telling me a drop-dead sexy man gave you his personal number? This is not a drill, Y/N! We need to talk about this."

You laugh, feeling the warmth of the wine and Gojo's infectious excitement. "I know, right? He owns a tattoo parlour and seemed really interested in my sketches. I think I might actually call him."

Gojo's grin widens. "You absolutely should. This is fate, my dear. Sexy tattoo artists don't just walk into your life every day."

You sip your wine, a thoughtful look on your face. "I mean, what if he was just being polite? Maybe he gives his number to a lot of people."

"Y/N," Gojo says, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Men like that do not just hand out their personal numbers. He's interested. And he owns a tattoo parlour? That's like, instant cool points."

"I guess," you reply, unable to keep a smile from forming. "He was really intense, though. Those red eyes... I felt like he could see right through me."

Gojo leans forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Tell me more about him. What else did he say?"

"He asked if I worked anywhere and complimented my sketches," you say, replaying the encounter in your mind. "Then he handed me his business card with his number on the back and told me to call him if I was looking for something more."

Gojo gasps theatrically. "Y/N, this is like something out of a romance novel! You have to call him. Imagine all the possibilities. Maybe you'll get an amazing job and a hot boyfriend out of this."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Slow down, Satoru. It's just a phone number. Besides, what if he's not looking for anything serious?"

Gojo waves his hand dismissively. "Please. You won't know until you call him. Worst case, you have a fun fling with a gorgeous guy. Best case, you get a new job and a fantastic relationship. It's a win-win."

"You make it sound so easy," you say, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "But what if he's not what I'm expecting? What if he doesn't like me once he gets to know me?"

Gojo places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, you're amazing. If he doesn't see that, then it's his loss. But you owe it to yourself to find out. Take the chance."

You nod, feeling a surge of determination. "You're right. I'll go to the parlour in a few days"

"That's my girl!" Gojo cheers, clinking his glass against yours. "Now, let's focus on this movie and see if the heroine ends up with the handsome prince."

A few days later, you find yourself standing outside Sukuna's tattoo parlour, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. The shop is a blend of modern and edgy, with bold artwork adorning the walls and a sleek, inviting atmosphere.

As you step inside, you're greeted by two men lounging near the reception desk. One has long black hair tied back, and the other is muscular with short, spiky hair. They glance up as you enter, their eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well," the long-haired man says with a smirk. "If it isn't the pretty woman from the coffee shop. Sukuna's been talking about you."

The other man chuckles, giving you a once-over. "I'm Geto, and this is Toji. Sukuna's been in a good mood since he met you. I gotta say, we're all curious."

You blush, feeling a bit flustered under their teasing gazes. "I'm Y/N. Sukuna invited me to come by and show him more of my sketches."

Before you can say more, Sukuna emerges from the back room, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. "Y/N, you made it," he says, his tone warm and inviting. "Come on back, I'd love to see what you've brought."

You follow him into his office, the walls lined with more of his impressive artwork. He motions for you to sit, and you spread out your sketchbook, showing him your latest designs. He flips through the pages, his expression thoughtful and appreciative.

"These are incredible," he says, looking up at you with admiration. "Have you ever thought about doing tattoos yourself?"

You hesitate, then shake your head. "I don't think I could. I have epilepsy, and I wouldn't feel comfortable working on someone's skin with the risk of a seizure."

Sukuna's expression softens with understanding. "I get that. But your designs are too good to go unnoticed. How about this – you design the tattoos, and I'll handle the inking? We can call it a collaboration."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "That sounds amazing. But are you sure? Mixing business and pleasure can be tricky."

He leans in closer, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'll make an exception to the rule this time. How about we discuss it over drinks?"

You agree, and later that evening, you find yourself in a cozy bar with Sukuna, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate. As you sip your drinks, he tells you about his three-year-old brother, Yuji, and how he became Yuji's legal guardian after their parents died.

"It's been a challenge," he admits, his eyes reflecting both pride and a hint of weariness. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything. Yuji's everything to me."

You share a bit about your own background, mentioning your strained relationship with your wealthy family. He doesn't press for details, respecting your boundaries.

"I want you to have this," you say, handing him a small card. "It's instructions on what to do if I have a seizure. Just in case."

Sukuna takes the card, his expression serious as he reads it. "Thank you for trusting me with this," he says sincerely. "I want to make sure you're safe."

You smile, feeling a connection growing between you. "I've got some stories if you're interested."

His grin returns, and he leans in closer, eager to listen. "I'm all ears."

You take a deep breath, recalling some of the more memorable experiences. "Once I learned what the aura was I used it to my advantage so when I'd feel one coming on I'd freak out my asshole family members by saying some freaky shit before dropping into a seizure"

Sukuna's eyes widen with intrigue and amusement. "Freaky shit, huh? Give me an example."

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink to gather your thoughts. "Okay, so there was this one time at a family dinner. I felt a seizure coming on, and my aunt was going on and on about some new business venture. I interrupted her and said, 'Auntie, the spirits are restless tonight. They demand a sacrifice.' Then I started to convulse and dropped to the floor."

Sukuna bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No way! That must have scared the hell out of her."

"It did," you reply, grinning. "She screamed and started throwing holy water at me. It was pure chaos. My parents were mortified especially when other family started recommeding exorcists. My aunt, bless her, she never quite looked at me the same way again."

"I can imagine," Sukuna snorts. 

The night continues with more stories and laughter, the bond between you growing stronger. When it's time to leave, Sukuna insists on walking you back to your apartment.

As you approach your building, you spot Gojo waiting by the entrance, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you with Sukuna.

"Well, well," Gojo teases, a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like someone had a good night."

You laugh, feeling a bit shy under his scrutiny. "Gojo, this is Sukuna. Sukuna, this is my flatmate, Gojo."

Gojo extends a hand, shaking Sukuna's firmly. "Nice to meet you, Sukuna. I've heard a lot about you."

Sukuna nods, his demeanor friendly but reserved. "Likewise. Take care of her, Gojo."

With that, Sukuna bids you goodnight, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns to leave. You watch him go, a smile playing on your lips.

Inside the apartment, Gojo wastes no time. "Okay, spill. How was it?"

You flop onto the couch, feeling giddy. "It was amazing. He's so kind and understanding. And did I mention how sexy he is?"

Gojo laughs, grabbing his phone. "Let's see this parlour of his. If he's as hot as you say, I need to check out his work."

You both gather around the laptop, pulling up the website for Sukuna's tattoo parlour. The screen fills with images of stunning artwork and a few photos of the team.

Gojo points to one of the pictures, his eyes widening when he spots one of Sukuna's co-workers. "Is that one Geto? I want to lick him like a lollipop."

You burst into laughter, the wine and the excitement of the night making everything feel surreal. "Gojo, you're incorrigible."

He grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "What can I say? I have a weakness for hot guys with tattoos. But seriously, Y/N, I'm happy for you. He seems like a great guy."

You nod, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. "Yeah, he really is. I think this could be the start of something special."

"So, Y/N," Gojo begins with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "it's criminal that you didn't go home with Sukuna tonight."

You playfully roll your eyes, knowing where this is headed. "Oh, come on, Gojo. We had a great time together. That's what matters."

He gives you an exaggerated sigh, as if disappointed by your response. "Fine, fine. I'll let it slide this time. But," he adds with a pointed look, "you owe me."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "I owe you? What for?"

Gojo leans in conspiratorially, his grin widening. "You're going to start working at Sukuna's parlour, right? Well, since you'll be seeing that sexy man every day, it's only fair that you set me up with Geto."

You burst into laughter, shaking your head at his audacity. "You're shameless, Gojo. But I'll consider it."

"Consider it?" he exclaims dramatically. "Y/N, my dear friend, this is a matter of utmost importance! Geto needs to know that I'm interested."

"You're impossible," you chuckle, picking up your phone to check the time. "Speaking of which, I should probably text Sukuna and let him know I got home safely."

Gojo perks up immediately, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ooh, can I help with that?"

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

He grins devilishly. "Give me your phone. I'll text him for you."

You hesitate for a moment, weighing the risks of letting Gojo loose with your phone. But after a moment's thought, you hand it over with a smirk. "Alright, but no funny business."

Gojo takes the phone eagerly, his fingers flying over the screen as he composes a message. "Don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior."

He taps away for a few seconds before showing you the screen. "There. Sent."

You read the message aloud, your eyes widening in surprise. "It's Gojo. Does Geto like men?"

Gojo grins triumphantly, handing the phone back to you. "Now we wait for Sukuna's response."

"You're unbelievable," you laugh, shaking your head as you put your phone down. "I can't believe you just did that."

As you set your phone down, still chuckling at Gojo's audacity, it suddenly lights up with an incoming call. Your heart skips a beat as you see Sukuna's name flashing on the screen.

"Oh no," you mutter, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "He's calling."

Gojo raises an eyebrow mischievously. "Well, aren't you going to answer?"

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to let Gojo handle the situation. But before you can make a move, Gojo snatches up your phone with a grin and answers it before you can stop him.

"Hello, Sukuna," Gojo says casually, leaning back on the couch as if he's answering his own phone. "Yeah, it's me, Gojo. Sorry to disappoint, but Y/N left her phone with me. So, does Geto like men?"

You lunge forward, panic rising in your chest. "Gojo, give me that phone!"

But Gojo dodges your grasp effortlessly, grinning as he keeps his attention on the call. "What? Oh, she's fine. Just a bit annoyed that I'm hijacking her phone. So, about Geto..."

You let out an exasperated groan, trying again to grab the phone from him. "Gojo, seriously! Give it back!"

Gojo laughs, evading your attempts with surprising agility as he continues speaking into the phone. "Yeah, yeah, Y/N's trying to kill me for asking. But hey, inquiring minds want to know."

You dive for the phone once more, nearly toppling over the coffee table in your pursuit. "Gojo, I swear!"

Gojo dances away from you, effortlessly dodging your furious attempts to reclaim your phone. "Hold on, Sukuna. Let me put you on speaker. Y/N's dying to hear the answer."

You freeze, realizing you're caught in Gojo's playful trap. You give up your chase for a moment, glaring at him with mock fury. "Gojo, you're impossible."

He grins mischievously, finally relenting and putting the call on speaker. "Alright, Sukuna. Now that we have an audience, spill the beans. Does Geto like men? I need to know if that criminally sexy hunk of man meat is my future husband"

"For fuck sake," You mutter, taking a big gulp from the wine bottle. 

The room fills with Sukuna's laughter as Gojo's audacious questions ring through the speakerphone. You groan inwardly, burying your face in a nearby cushion as you listen to your friend's shameless interrogation.

Sukuna's amused voice cuts through the air. "Gojo, you're certainly direct. I can't say about Geto's preferences, but I'm sure he'd appreciate the attention."

Gojo, undeterred, continues his playful banter. "Alright, fair enough. Now, on a scale of one to ten, how hot do you think my best friend is?"

You shoot Gojo a death glare, mouthing 'stop it' furiously, but he's too engrossed in his antics to notice. You grab a cushion and hurl it at him with all your might, hitting him square in the face.

"Ow! Hey!" Gojo protests, momentarily distracted from the call. "Okay, okay, I get it. Just asking for a friend."

Sukuna chuckles on the other end of the line. "I'd say she's a solid eleven."

You groan again, your face burning with embarrassment as you snatch the phone from Gojo's hand. "I'm so sorry, Sukuna. He's incorrigible."

"No need to apologize," Sukuna replies. "It's been entertaining, to say the least. But Gojo, you might want to tread carefully with those questions."

Gojo rubs his nose where the cushion hit him, his grin undiminished. "Understood, Sukuna. But one last thing – you don't cry after doing it, right? Because if so, you're not allowed near Y/N. She's been through that before-"

Sukuna's hearty laughter echoes through the speakerphone again as Gojo's teasing provokes another exasperated response from you. You grab your sketchbook from the coffee table and fling it at Gojo with all your might. The sketchbook sails through the air, narrowly missing Gojo's head as he ducks, still chuckling.

Before Gojo can finish his sentence, you launch yourself at him with a primal yell, tackling him to the ground. He lets out a surprised grunt as the two of you crash onto the floor, cushions and blankets flying everywhere.

"Gojo, shut up!" you yell, wrestling to pin him down while he continues to laugh uproariously.

You manage to wrest the phone from Gojo's grasp and, without missing a beat, dash toward your bedroom. "Sorry, Sukuna! Give me a second!" you call out, sprinting down the hallway. Gojo's laughter follows you as you slam your door shut and lock it, leaning against it for a moment to catch your breath.

"Finally," you mutter, bringing the phone to your ear. "Sorry about that, Sukuna. Gojo can be a bit... much."

Sukuna's laughter is still present in his voice. "No worries, Y/N. It was entertaining. You have quite the energetic friend."

"That's one way to put it," you sigh, feeling a mix of exasperation and fondness. "So, about what Gojo said..."

"Don't worry, I'm not a crier," Sukuna says and you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank God," You say.

"I'm curious to know about the crier," Sukuna's voice has a teasing lilt to it. 

"I'll tell you!" Gojo calls through the door. "Her ex would cry almost every time they-"

"Gojo, I will take the kitchen knife and-" you start to threaten, your voice carrying a mix of genuine frustration and playful menace.

Gojo's voice interrupts you through the door. "And do what? Cut my precious hair? You wouldn't dare!"

"No, I have some garden shears reserved for your hair!" you call back, your tone dripping with mock menace. "Rusty and blunt."

Gojo's laughter booms through the door. "You wouldn't dare. My hair is a work of art!"

"It's a work of something, that's for sure," you retort, a grin spreading across your face despite yourself.

Behind the door, you hear Gojo's exaggerated gasp. "I am hurt, Y/N. Deeply hurt. I thought we were friends."

"We are," you chuckle, shaking your head. "But seriously, stop eavesdropping."

Gojo's voice turns playful again. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you and Sukuna to your romantic phone call in peace. But remember, if you need any tips on handling a tattooed bad boy, I'm your man."

You roll your eyes, the amusement clear in your voice. "Thanks, Gojo. I'll keep that in mind."

Once you're sure Gojo has retreated, you settle back against your bedroom door with a sigh, bringing the phone back to your ear. "Sorry about that, Sukuna."

Sukuna's warm chuckle fills your ear. "No need to apologize. Your friend seems... colorful."

"That's one way to describe him," you agree, feeling a smile tug at your lips. "So, what were you saying before we were interrupted?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come to the parlour again," Sukuna says, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. "But this time, it's closed, and I thought we could have a different kind of date."

Your curiosity piques. "A different kind of date?"

"Yeah," Sukuna continues, his tone gentle yet filled with anticipation. "I have some fake skin for tattoo practice. I thought maybe you could bring your sketches, and I could show you some basics. If you're interested, of course."

The idea sends a thrill through you. "That sounds amazing, Sukuna. I'd love to learn more about tattooing from you."

"Great," Sukuna replies, his voice warm with approval. "How about tomorrow evening? I'll set everything up, and we can take our time."

You feel a rush of excitement at the thought of spending more time with Sukuna and delving into his world of tattoo artistry. "Tomorrow evening sounds perfect. I can't wait."

"Me neither," Sukuna says softly. "I'll text you the details. Until then, Y/N."

"Until then, Sukuna," you reply, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach as you hang up the phone.

As you hang up with Sukuna, Gojo bursts back into your room with his usual dramatic flair. "So, spill the tea! What did Sukuna say? When's the next hot date?"

You chuckle at his enthusiasm, shaking your head at his antics. "Tomorrow evening. We're going to the parlour after hours."

Gojo's eyes widen in mock surprise. "Ooh, after hours? That's scandalous. Are you sure you're ready for that level of intimacy?"

Rolling your eyes, you play along with his teasing. "It's not like that, Gojo. We're just going to practice tattooing on fake skin."

Gojo raises an eyebrow suggestively. "Sure, sure. Tattooing. I get it. Wink wink."

You laugh, swatting at him playfully. "Stop it, you perv."

Ignoring your protest, Gojo flops down on your bed dramatically. "Seriously though, I'm happy for you. Sukuna seems like a good guy. And hot, let's not forget hot."

"You're not wrong," you admit with a grin, unable to deny Sukuna's attractiveness.

"And what about Geto?" Gojo prompts eagerly, propping himself up on his elbows. "When are you setting me up with him? You promised!"

You shake your head, amused by his persistence. "I'll see what I can do, Gojo. But don't get your hopes up too high."

"I'm counting on you, Y/N," Gojo says dramatically, clutching his heart as if wounded. "My future happiness depends on this."

"Your future happiness depends on many things, but sure, I'll add 'Geto matchmaker' to my list," you reply, teasing him gently.

Gojo grins, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "You know I trust you with my love life, Y/N. You've got impeccable taste."

"That's debatable," you quip back, enjoying the banter with your friend.

He sits up suddenly, his expression turning serious for a moment. "But seriously, Y/N. I'm glad you're hitting it off with Sukuna. You deserve someone who appreciates your sketches and makes you laugh."

Your heart warms at his sincerity. "Thanks, Gojo. That means a lot."

"Anytime," Gojo says with a grin, returning to his usual playful demeanour. "Now, back to Sukuna and Geto. Double date soon, perhaps?"

You laugh, shaking your head at his relentless matchmaking efforts. "Let's see how tomorrow goes first, okay?"

"Fair enough," Gojo concedes with a shrug. "But just remember, I'm counting on you."

"I won't forget," you assure him, already looking forward to the next chapter with Sukuna and whatever adventures (and matchmaking schemes) Gojo might drag you into next.

taglist - @sad-darksoul @thejujvtsupost @kyo-kyo1

[venuscrashed]

Meeting the team - Spencer x Older!Male!Biker!Reader

Warnings: OOC?, haven’t watched in a while, not proofread

Word count: 1k

The sound of the elevator ding echoed into the hallway. The door opened painfully slowly for a government building. A man holding a biker helmet stepped out. He was dressed in leather and in his other hand had a small bag. He walked into the desk area where the agents worked. Heads spinned around as he walked by, people gushing over how he looked. Of course, he raised suspicions as he didn’t work there but some familiar faces recognized them.

“(M/N),” he turned around to see a lady dressed in a green pencil skirt with a frog themed cardigan. He stopped and gave her a wave. He gave her a bright smile, remembering her from the time they first met. She cosplayed with Spencer at a convention and he had to pick Spencer up. The look of shock on Penelope’s face was something he could never forget. They both tend to laugh at it whenever they meet up, which was rare since Spencer didn’t go out much and there was no other excuse for them to meet.

“Hey, Penelope”.

“Oh my god it’s been so long since I’ve last seen you. Did you gain more muscle,” they both looked down at his arm. She reached her hand out to lightly graze him, hypnotized in the moment. Laughing once the moment passed. “What are you doing here?”

(M/N) raised the bag in his hand, Penelope giving him an “oh” look. “Dropping this off for Spence. Hope he doesn’t mind considering the rest of the team doesn’t know me.”

“Don’t worry,” she guided him towards the rest of the team. “They’ll love you.”

They both walked over to the group of agents. The majority of the team surrounded Spencer's desk. They discussed one of their cases that took place nearby for once. Each agent fits the description that Spencer gave (M/n). None of them seemed to realize the duo until People stood in front of the desk. Penelope cleared her throat, causing all of the agents to look up.

Spencer’s eyes went wide, shooting up from his desk so he could walk around the table. “(M/N)? What are you doing here?”

“You know this guy Spence?” JJ asked with the rest of the team wondering as well. Spencer looked back at the rest of the team and quickly turned back around.

Spencer started stammering, trying to comprehend the situation he’s in. (M/N) just laughed and gave a quick wave towards the team. Derek gave a quick wave but brought it back down after he got a look from Emily. He looked back towards Spencer, waiting for something to be said. After realizing that he wasn’t going to say anything. (M/N) just sighed. “I’m (M/N). You must be Rossi, JJ, Emily, and Derek. Right?” He pointed towards all the right people.

“How’d you know,” Rossi asked suspiciously. Looking him up and down, judging his character.

“Spence talks about you a lot,” (M/N) shared. Emily and Derek gasping and laughing at the same time. Which causes Spencer to turn around and deny it as much as he can.

“He does like us,” Derek said. Making the rest of the team laugh.

“It’s not like that,” Spencer stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“Lunch,” (M/N) held out the bag. Spencer took it at incredible speed. Looking inside out it to see a note he was too embarrassed to read aloud. Realizing it was home made he gave a quick thanks and ushered him out.

Emily quickly got up and ran beside them. “Woah, woah, woah. You’re just going to kick him out like that. After he brought you food.”

“Yeah! What is he your old college professor from when you were thirteen or something?” Derek wrapped a hand around Spencer's shoulder. Smiling like he just told the funniest joke ever. “How do you know each other anyways?”

Spencer and (M/N) stared each other down. One had absolute fear in his eyes and tried calculating the best possible way to get out of here. The other had an amused look and expected something to be said. A few moments passed until Garcia screamed “They’re dating each other!” The both of them looked at her as she gasped and covered her mouth. The whole group was shocked at what she said.

“What?” Emily yelled.

“Since when,” Derek yelled even louder.

The whole group broke up into chaos. Spencer being bombarded with questions. The whole team surrounds him with a bunch of “Why didn’t you tell us” and “I’m sorry for telling them” here and there. The whole group caused everyone to stop working. It would have gone forever but Hotch yelled from behind them.

“What’s going on,” he said sternly. Eyeing the group, deeply ashamed of how they’re acting.

“Hotch,” Derek whipped around. “Spencer’s dating someone. A guy too!”

“I know,” he said blankly. Emily and Derek both scream “what” in the background. “I didn’t see you there (M/N). How have you been?”

(M/N) smiled at Hotch, remembering him from the time he picked Spencer up at a bar. It had been after the team celebrated and the rest went home. Of course, Hotch stayed back to make sure nothing had happened to Spencer. They chatted for a bit while Spencer drank more, to the point where he couldn’t remember anything. The case had been one that hit close to home and after a couple of drinks he tends to let himself go. “I’m good Hotch.”

Hotch stared at his teammates. Laughing in the back of his mind at their faces. “Let’s go talk in my office.”

The rest of the team’s mouth stayed open. Derek refused to believe Hotch knew about it too. JJ laughed behind the rest of them while Garcia stood there like a statue. Rossi was amused with the outcome, storing this memory in the back of his mind to laugh about it later. Emily looked between the two men and sat down in disbelief, scoffing at the laughable situation. Spencer, who was the most in shock, stood there even longer calculating the possibility of when they met. So much for an eidetic memory.

[praisethegabs]

AKRASIA

ID!Professor!Leon Kennedy x Student!F!Reader

euphoria masterlist

summary: you met him during a party, and it was a one night stand for both of you. (un)fortunately, it turns out he's your new college history professor, and neither of you expected that.

warnings: age gap, reader is in college and in mid 20s while Leon is in his 30s. NSFW content, delicate to rough sex, p in v, oral receiving (both), praise kink, degradation kink (eventually), use of pet names (bunny), vaginal fingering, masturbation, cum swallowing, dom!leon and sub!reader. leon is insecure af. oc named chloe as the reader's best friend.

word count: 5684k

a/n: this is a new mini series I'm writing since I had a hard time with creative blocking, and I'm taking this very slow just in case.

AKRASIA is the state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgment through weakness of will.

You sat in your cozy room in the apartment you shared with your best friend, Chloe. The pale evening light casts a warm glow over the mismatched posters adorning the walls. Your textbooks were spread out across your desk, a mountain of assignments awaiting your attention. But Chloe, your vivacious best friend, had other plans.

"Come on, my lovely pumpkin," Chloe pleaded, tossing a colorful scarf around your neck as she perched on your bed. "You can't spend another Thursday night buried in textbooks. It's the first college party of the semester, and you've been MIA for weeks!"

"Chloe, you know I have that history essay tomorrow morning. I can't afford to waste any more time." You sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"But it's not just any party, it's Jake's party! He's practically begged me to convince you to go. And you know he's got a major crush on you." Chloe's bright green eyes twinkled with mischief as she leaned closer.

Your cheeks flushed at the mention of Jake, the charismatic guy from your history class. You had caught him stealing glances at you during lectures, but you were too wrapped up in your studies to think much of it. Besides, you already had your share of a "bad girl" period. Now, you need to finish your obligations.

"I don't know, Chloe," you hesitated, twirling a pencil between your fingers. "I feel so out of my element at those parties. I used to get drunk just for fun, but I don't do that anymore"

"Sis, that's what makes you unique. Besides, I promise you'll have fun. And who knows, maybe Jake will be your study partner for that history essay or whatever you need. It's a win-win!" Chloe chuckled, tousling her auburn curls.

You bit your lip, torn between your dedication to your academics and the allure of a night filled with laughter, music, and maybe even a spark of romance. You glanced at your textbooks, then back at Chloe's eager expression.

"Okay, Chloe. I'll go to the party. But only for a couple of hours, and you owe me a serious study session tomorrow." Finally, with a hesitant smile, you relented.

"Deal! Now, let's get you ready. You're going to look stunning, and I promise you won't regret this." Chloe's face lit up with triumph as she jumped off the bed.

As you both began raiding your closet for the perfect outfit, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. Little did you know, this college party would mark the beginning of an unforgettable chapter in your life.

After a shower, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, twirling in your black cocktail dress. Your reflection grinned back at you, the dimples on your cheeks deepening as you admired your outfit. The cocktail dress that Chloe picked up for you, which she said it looks beautiful on you. She was perched on the edge of your bed, her perfectly curled auburn hair cascading over her shoulders.

"You look amazing, sweetie" Chloe gushed, adjusting her own outfit. "This party is going to be epic!"

"Thanks, Chloe. I can't believe you really convinced me to go to this college party." You laughed, the excitement bubbling within you.

Just then, your phone chimed with a familiar notification tone. You picked it up, your heart sinking as you saw the message. It was from Matthew, your ex-boyfriend. The name alone sent a shiver down your spine.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, her eyebrows furrowing with both concern and curiosity since you had a strange expression on your face.

"Hey, I know it's been a while, but can we talk? It's important." You sighed, your fingers trembling slightly as you read the message out loud.

"Oh no, not him again. What does he want now?" Chloe's expression shifted from excitement to concern, her voice sounding annoyed for a moment. She really hated your ex.

You chewed your lower lip, feeling torn between responding and ignoring the message. You hadn't spoken to Matthew since your messy breakup a few months ago. Your relationship had ended in bitter arguments and hurtful words.

"I don't know," you replied, your voice wavering. "Maybe it's something urgent. I should at least find out."

"Honey, I've been looking forward to this party for weeks, and I had a lot of trouble to convice you to join me. You can't let him ruin our night. Besides, he had his chance to talk when you needed it." Chloe shook her head, her green eyes filled with worry, and her face with evident disapproval. She really cared about you.

You sighed again. It was really difficult to put your past behind, especially after everything you had with Matthew.

"Look, you go first, and I'll meet you there." You glanced at Chloe, hoping she would give up and just leave you to take care of your ex-boyfriend on your terms.

"Do you promise?" Chloe asks, with those big green and puppy eyes, which she did every time she wanted something.

"Yep, I promise." You nod your head and smile when Chloe screams like a little girl, hugging you tight.

As you watch Chloe leave your shared apartment, your entire attention returns to your screen. You felt a wave of buried feelings returning slowly, leaving you with the hard choice in hands. You hesitated, your phone still in your hand. You knew Chloe was right, but curiosity gnawed at you.

"I'll just send a quick reply. Let him know I can't talk right now." You muttered to yourself, deciding what was best for you at the moment. You typed out a short message, your fingers tapping the screen rapidly. "Can't talk now, Matthew. At a party. We'll talk later."

But as soon as you hit send, your phone chimed again, this time with a call from Matthew. You watched the screen light up with his name and number. Your heart raced, torn between answering and turning it off.

Instantly, you pictured the image of Chloe in front of you and what she would say at this very moment. She would, of course, curse him a lot, and then, as your best friend, she would say something like, "Ignore it, honey. You made your choice. Let's not let him ruin our night"

And again, she was completely right.

As you entered the place, the pulsating beat of music washed over you, drowning out the noise of your own doubts. The college party was in full swing, with colorful lights flashing in time with the rhythm, creating a kaleidoscope of patterns on the walls.

You weaved your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with anticipation and a hint of anxiety. Your best friend, Chloe, had convinced you to attend, promising a night of unforgettable fun. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for Chloe's familiar face amidst the sea of strangers.

You finally spotted Chloe near the makeshift bar, holding two red plastic cups filled with a mysterious concoction. Chloe grinned when she saw you and waved you over. Chloe joined you, your tension slowly giving way to excitement.

"Oh, you made it!" Chloe shouted over the music, handing you a cup. "This is the famous 'party punch.' Drink up!"

You hesitated for a moment, then took a cautious sip. The sweet, fruity mixture danced on your taste buds, and you couldn't help but smile. Chloe always had a knack for finding the best drinks.

Feeling the alcohol mess with your mind and following the rhythm of the music, you two chatted and laughed as the night went on, your voices blending with the raucous sounds of the party. You watched as people swayed to the music, their bodies moving in sync with the beat. It was a wild and chaotic scene, but there was an undeniable energy that you couldn't resist.

"Come on, let's dance!" You grabbed Chloe's hand, leading your way to the crowd, letting your body follow the flow.

You swayed to the beat of the music, your body moving sensually with the rhythm as colorful lights flashed around you. The college party was in full swing, the pounding music reverberating through the entire place as students danced and mingled. You, feeling adventurous and carefree due to the alcohol in your organism, held a red plastic cup in one hand and scanned the crowd for someone intriguing. Your eyes settled on a tall, ruggedly handsome man who stood out from the rest of the college-aged crowd.

As you glanced around the people, your eyes met those of a striking man across the dance floor.

He was, obviously, a few years older than the typical partygoer, exuded an air of maturity that drew your attention. He leaned against the wall, his brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, and his piercing blue eyes scanning the room with a hint of amusement. He was an enigmatic figure who seemed to easely blend into the college scene while maintaining an air of mystery. For a moment, you thought he was too old to be there, but can you blame the man for wanting some fun? Despite the age, he was very handsome.

And his eyes were locked specifically on you.

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you felt a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks. You couldn't believe that this stranger was actually looking at you. A burst of self-confidence surged within you, urging you to take action.

You couldn't resist the urge to approach him, so you casually sauntered over, a playful smile curving your lips. You didn't let their age gap deter you; after all, age was just a number, right?

With the music pulsing through your ears, you decided to seize the opportunity. Hopefully, you could put the blame on alcohol and say you weren't thinking right — despite the fact that you weren't that drunk. You made your way through the crowd, not even seeing Chloe around, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached him. The closer you got, the more you noticed his rugged charm and the intensity in his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there," you said, your voice carrying a hint of confidence as you leaned closer to be heard over the music. "You seem like you're in the wrong party. This crowd is usually reserved for broke college kids."

"Hey," he replied, his voice just loud enough to be heard. He then leaned in closer, his expression intrigued but slowly changing. Leon turned his attention to you, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Well, maybe I'm just here for the youthful energy. It's refreshing."

You laughed, your eyes sparkling.

"Or maybe you're just trying to relive your college days." you said, taking another generous sip on your drink. At this point, you weren't caring about anything else.

"What makes you think I'm not still in college?" Leon raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing.

"Because I've been around here long enough to recognize someone who's seen a few more semesters than the rest of us." You chuckled between another sips, leaning even closer, your faces just inches apart.

"You're perceptive, aren't you?" Leon's lips curled into a grin, and he took a sip from his own cup.

"I have my moments. So, Mr. Mysterious, what brings you to our humble party tonight?" You nodded, your flirtatious energy in full swing. At this point, you were regretting your decision to stop with alcohol because you could never talk to a man like him the way you were doing.

"Well, I heard there was someone here I couldn't resist meeting. Looks like I found her." Leon's eyes held a glint of intrigue as he leaned in slightly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his response, your flirtatious banter taking an unexpectedly genuine turn.

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" You asked him, feeling a sudden heat rush over your body like a wave.

"Only when I'm talking to someone as captivating as you." Leon leaned in a bit closer, his breath warm against your ear.

After a few more drinks and flirts, you decided to ask what was eating you inside. Of course, in the next morning, you wouldn't remember anything, and you could live without regrets. Chloe was having fun with a bunch of friends, so why couldn't you just do the same? You were so horny at this moment that you were willing to have fun.

"So, it was my impression, or were you practically eating me while I was dancing?" You provoked him, drinking another sip from whatever Chloe said it was.

He almost spit his drink, completely shocked by your question. The old man looks at you with curiosity, but then, a slight smirk appears on his lips. Those beautiful blue eyes that never left yours made your body shiver, and that smile, well... that smile of him almost ripped yourself in two parts.

"How presumption of yours, huh?" He replied, still smiling, his lips meeting his glass again.

"It wasn't presumption, it was true," you said back, sounding cocky; you didn't care, and you had the balls to do so.

"Well, I might have done that. Who knows?" He says, his voice softly husky, almost low, like he did on purpose to provoke you.

"Well, lucky for you, I might have enjoyed that," you said, leaning closer to his ear, enough to whisper to him and enough to make him smile.

It was amazing what alcohol did to you. Honestly, you weren't this type of slutty horny girl, but let's face the truth; your ex-boyfriend was an asshole and the last time you had sex with someone with your age, it was a terrible experience. Maybe someone older could handle the job well? And besides, you both knew you wouldn't see each other again.

"You know, this party is fun, but I have a feeling the night could get even better." He leaned closer, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, and he seemed to think the same as you.

"Oh, really? And what do you have in mind?" You turned to him, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

Leon grinned, his confidence growing as your connection deepened.

"How about we leave this noisy place and head to my apartment? It's not far from here, and we can continue our conversation without shouting over the music." He suggests, and you had the certain he was thinking the same thing you were.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. The party was completely wild at this point. Everyon, with no exceptions, seemed drunk enough, but the prospect of spending more time with this stranger and handsome man seemed far more appealing. Plus, there was an undeniable attraction that had been simmering between you two all night.

"You know what? I think that's a great idea. Lead the way." You replied with a playful smile and finally decided what you wanted.

Leon offered his hand, and you took it, allowing him to guide you through the lively crowd. You both made your way out of the crowded house and into the cool night air. The stars above shone brightly, and the distant sounds of the party slowly faded into the background.

As you two walked together, Leon couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. The decision to invite you to his place had been a bold one, but it seemed like the right choice. The night was filled with possibilities, and he was eager to explore where it would lead.

When you both reach his place, it's just a matter of seconds before he grabs you by your thighs, pinning up against the wall, kissing your neck desperately. Your hands meet his hair, holding so tight that between his kisses, he groans a little.

"God, you're so beautiful" he moans softly, leaving marks on your skin, to remember you that he was there.

"Stop talking, handsome" you said, now biting his earlobe, making him moan again. You were feeling something between your legs, and you couldn't tell if it was yours or his. "And just fuck me"

"That's what I intend to do" he whispers, still holding you by your thighs, leading you to his room, not caring about the mess he did along the way.

Your body falls graciously on his mattress, and he removes your black dress, throwing it somewhere inside his room. He removes his belt so quickly, like he really wanted this. You can see his cock inside his underpants, which makes you smile.

"Do you like the view, huh?" He provoked, sucking his fingers and making them touch your already wet pussy. "Is this all for me?"

"Shit" you moan louder when you feel his fingers circling around your pussy, tasting you. You sighed with pleasure, leaning back your head, biting your lower lip.

"Don't worry, we have all night" he whispers, his wet lips meeting your skin between kisses, making your body joint and shiver.

You feel him sucking and licking your left niple, his hand holding your other breast while his other hand was still circling slowly your clit. Your moans were so loud, so pornographic that you knew his neighbor would here your scandal. But God have mercy, he was very talented with his hands.

And then, without any warnings, you finally feel him inside, slowly sliding between your legs. You groan, letting him know you needed time to adjust to his size. Your nails found their way into his skin, leaving scratches that would take time to heal — a reminder about this night.

When you feel comfortable enough with him, you nod slightly, and he starts to move between your legs, penetrating you so softly and yet so caring. His eyes observe you, sometimes his lips meeting yours in a smooth kiss, and sometimes moaning in your ear.

You follow his pace, and when you notice, he's moving faster inside you. One of his hands holding yours so tight that it's almost impossible to escape his grip — which you don't intend to do. You wouldn't mind be his bitch for a night.

"You're taking me so well" he moans again, leaving marks on your breasts and smiling as his hips hit yours harder.

"Oh, fuck..." you moan again, biting your lower lip and closing your eyes, already feeling a wave of pleasure running through your body.

"Oh, be a good girl for me" he teases, his free hand circling your clit again, making your body joint.

And he kept teasing you for a very long time. Each time you were close to orgasm, he stopped what he was doing to make you beg for him and your pleas were almost insignificant to him, despite the fact that he was enjoying seeing you beg to cum.

"Please, let me cum" you begged again after the fifth time he denied your orgasm. You were almost crying at this point, unable to hold the ache in your pussy. "I need you, please"

"Such a baby girl begging for me" he said, smiling and starting to circle you clit again, making you whine. "I'll let you cum if you take me in your mouth right now"

He stood up on the edge of his bed and you crawled into him, opening your mouth to put his cock inside, sucking him while your hands massaged his balls. You can hear him moan, grabbing your hair to force you to keep sucking him. You started to tear up, gasping while his cock was inside your mouth.

He didn't care.

You kept sucking him until he released his cum inside your mouth and he didn't had to say anything. You swallowed him, like the good girl you were. And with his smile of approval, you knew you earned your time. He made you lay back in his bed and started to suck your clit, tasting yourself in his mouth.

"So good" he said, holding your thighs against his shoulders, sucking you, licking your wet pussy.

"S-shit" you moan again, holding his sheets with violence, wanting desperately to cum on him. Your moans get higher and again, you started to feel the warm pleasure in your body.

"Cum for me, baby" he orders smoothly again, giving the attention you required, his tongue doing such a great work on you.

Finally, with his approval, you had the liberty to release yourself. You felt something hot coming out of you at the same time that your body reached the peek and you finally had the orgasm of your life. You had to control yourself, your body almost collapsing while his mouth was still between your thighs.

And after you had your orgasm, releasing your cum on him, he smiled at you, licking his lips to savor you and then crawling his way to your side on his bed.

"You're okay?" He asks, going to his bathroom to grab paper to help you clean yourself. "I hope I wasn't that hard"

"You kidding me?" You ask him, cleaning yourself from the mess he did. "You were great, I'm impressed"

The moonlight cast a soft glow through the curtains, filling the room with a gentle, silver light. Leon and you were laying side by side on the cozy, disheveled sheets, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

Leon turned toward you, his eyes filled with tenderness as he reached out to stroke your hair, his touch feather-light.

"Are you okay, really?" he whispered, his voice filled with concern.

You smiled, your eyes shining with a mixture of contentment and affection.

"I'm more than okay. That was... amazing." You said honestly to him. And it was entirely true; despite his age, he was the best sex you ever had.

Leon's smile mirrored yours as he continued to run his fingers through your hair, tracing soothing patterns along your back.

"I'm so glad to hear that," he said. "But I want to make sure you're comfortable. Is there anything you need right now?" He asks, sounding curious and kind. You felt he came from a fairytale. He was too good to be real.

You thought for a moment, then shook your head.

"I just need you here with me, like this."

"I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere," he promised. Leon leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, his lips warm and reassuring.

You two lay together in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of their intimate moment. Leon's caring touch and reassuring presence were all the aftercare you needed, a reminder that your connection ran deeper than the physical. As you both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, you knew that this bond was something truly special, despite the fact that you both also knew it wouldn't happen again.

As the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, you groaned and slowly opened your eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings of Leon's apartment briefly disoriented you until the events of the previous night came flooding back into your memory. You'd met him at the party you went with your best friend, and one thing had led to another. Now, you were here, alone in his apartment.

With a groggy sigh, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your temples to soothe the pounding headache. Your mouth felt like a desert, a testament to the amount of alcohol you'd consumed the night before. Your bleary eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of Leon.

A folded piece of paper on the coffee table caught your attention. You reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly, and unfolded the note. Leon's neat handwriting greeted you:

"Hey, stranger. I hope you slept well. I had to head to work early, but I didn't want to wake you. There's coffee brewing in the kitchen to help with your hangover, and I left some pain relievers on the counter. Make yourself at home. There's my number if you need anything. Leon"

You couldn't help but smile. Despite the awkwardness of waking up in a stranger's apartment, Leon's thoughtfulness warmed your heart. You stumbled out of bed and followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen.

As you sipped the steaming cup of coffee, the pounding in your head began to subside. The pain relievers helped, too. You glanced at your phone and gasped when you saw the time. You were so late for your college classes.

With newfound energy, you left your phone number on his desk and rushed back to the bedroom, desperately searching for your scattered clothes. You managed to piece together an outfit from the items you found strewn across the floor. It was far from your usual put-together look, but it would have to do.

Once dressed, you scribbled a quick note of thanks to Leon and left it on the kitchen counter. You grabbed your bag and dashed out of his apartment, promising yourself you'd explain everything when you saw him again.

As you hurried to catch a bus to your college, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events. Meeting Leon had been a whirlwind, and while your head still throbbed with the remnants of a hangover, you couldn't deny the spark of excitement and curiosity that had ignited between the two of you.

As you ran down the hall, your heart raced with anxiety. You knew you were late for your history class, but your unexpected encounter the night before had left you disoriented and sleep-deprived. With your disheveled hair and the remnants of last night's makeup still on your face, you approached the classroom door. The chattering of your fellow students stopped abruptly when you entered.

The professor, his back turned to the door, continued writing on the chalkboard. You sighed with relief, hoping you hadn't disrupted the class too much. You scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. Most of your fellow students had already found their places, and the only available desk was in the front row.

You tiptoed down the aisle, trying to make as little noise as possible, and took a seat at the front. The professor turned around, ready to begin his lecture. When your eyes met, your heart dropped into your stomach. It was Leon, the man you had met at the college party the night before, the one you had shared an unforgettable night with.

"Fuck" you muttered in surprise, your face going red like a tomato.

Leon's expression changed from one of stern concentration to one of recognition and shock. You felt your face flush with embarrassment as you realized that he was your history professor. The sounds of your obscenes moans echoed inside your head. You wanted to evaporate.

"Good morning, miss" he said, his voice tinged with surprise, but trying to sound polite. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I...I didn't realize this was your class," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

The rest of the class watched the exchange with keen interest. You could feel their curious eyes on you. Leon cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure.

"Well, since you're here, you might as well stay," he said, attempting to sound professional despite the awkwardness of the situation. "We'll discuss your tardiness later. Now, let's begin our lesson on the American Revolution."

As the class continued, you tried your best to focus on the lecture, but your mind kept wandering back to the night you had spent with him. It was going to be a long semester, filled with more than just history lessons.

At the end of his class, you were so nervous that you felt you could explode right there. Leon hesitated as he watched you from across his desk, where he had papers and books strewn haphazardly. Your presence filled the room with an electric tension, one he couldn't deny any longer. You were his student, and you both knew the boundaries you both had crossed were dangerous. And when everyone left his room, you stood up to leave as well, until you heard his voice.

"Sit down," he said, his voice trembling slightly as he gestured to the chair in front of him. You took a seat, your eyes locking onto his, searching for answers.

You never felt this nervous before. You were shaking, and your palms were sweating cold. You wanted to disappear forever.

"We need to talk about last night," Leon began, his gaze never leaving yours. "What happened between us was a mistake, and I shouldn't have allowed it to happen."

Your lips quivered, but you remained silent.

"I'm your professor, and you're my student. It's against the rules, and it's unethical. I can't let this continue." Leon continued, his voice softer but resolute.

You looked down, your fingers nervously playing with the edge of your notebook.

"I know, Leon," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't deny that I felt something for you. It's more than just physical attraction."

Leon's heart ached at her words, his inner struggle evident. God, this was so wrong, and yet, his mind was a battle over what was right and what was wrong. He couldn't deny he felt something for you too — something he thought he would never feel again.

"You don't understand, I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I also care about your future, and I can't jeopardize it."

You raised your eyes to meet his once more, tears glistening.

"What are we going to do, then?" You asked, feeling sad and, somehow, pathetic. You met him the night before, then why were you feeling like this?

Leon sighed, his resolve crumbling.

"I don't know" he confessed, his voice filled with regret. "But we need to find a way to move past this and focus on your education."

Your eyes locked in a shared moment of vulnerability, the unspoken desire still simmering beneath the surface. Leon had tried to convince you it was wrong, but his feelings for you were undeniable. The battle between his heart and his principles had only just begun.

"I think it's for the best if we keep this as it should be. I don't want to risk anything" Leon said, his voice sounding sad for a moment. "And I'm sorry, but we can't see each other like that again"

You nod and then leave his class. You made your way back to your apartment, wanting a shower, because you felt you could drown yourself in the water and forget everything that happened. He was your professor. You knew it was wrong, but for God's sake, why him? Why did he have to take you to heaven and then throw cold water on your head?

"What the hell happened?" You heard Chloe ask as soon as you enter your apartment. You completely forgot about her.

"I met someone last night" you explained, avoiding details. You were still feeling the effects of the hungover.

"Really? I bet it was good... you didn't even come back home, you naughty girl" Chloe teases you, laughing. "Have you heard about the new history professor? He's really hot"

"Yeah, I got late for his class" you sighed, laying on your bed with Chloe right behind you, excited about the new professor. If she only knew...

"No shit? Lucky you, he's cool. I've heard he was at the party last night and left with someone. I wish I was that lucky" Chloe kept saying, sitting on the small armchair in your room.

"And they saw who this person was?" You asked in panic, suddenly glancing at your best friend, which you regretted immediately.

"No fucking way... it was you!" Chloe almost screams, surprised and then, throwing a pillow on your face. "I can't believe you were banging the new professor!"

"In my defense, I didn't know!" You said, defending yourself. Deep down, Chloe didn't care. She wanted to see you happy. "I found out this morning... but it's okay. He doesn't want to see me"

"Too bad for him. You're too much for him, anyway" Chloe smirks, being the supportive friend you needed.

Chloe always had the ability to make you feel better with few words. You were really thankful for having her; so, you decided to do what he wanted. For the next few weeks, you watched his classes and noticed that, sometimes, he was glancing at you.

How could you both forget that night?

It was almost impossible. He made you feel so fucking good and you wanted so bad to be with him again. You even fantasized having him fucking you all over again, making you completely his. God, this was very hard. They've always said you will always want more intensely what you can't have, and they are so right about that.

And then, after one month since that party, Leon couldn't avoid that anymore.

He felt the urgency to talk to you, to smell your perfume or see your smile. He was going insane for not having you the way he did that day. Why was he feeling like that? He couldn't tell. But it felt good.

"May I have a word with you after class? It's about your essay" Leon says, closer to you and sounding very professional.

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy" You nod your head, already feeling your heart skipping a few beats and your body shaking again.

That was it.

After class, you remained sitting, waiting for your colleagues to leave his room. He avoided your eyes until there were just the two of you. Your breath was heavy, and instantly, you were feeling the heat on your body.

"What is it you want to talk with me?" You ask him, breathing nervously.

Leon gets closer to you, enough to make your body shiver. You look at his blue eyes and the image of him fucking you plays in your head like a movie.

"I shouldn't do this..." he whispers, his breath reaching your face smoothly. "But to be honest, I don't give a shit about morality anymore"

And then, he finally kissed you like he meant that.

It was everything you needed to know. He wanted you, and you wanted him. This could end bad for both of you, but you didn't care. You were weak, and he was weak as well. And right now, he wanted you more than anything.

[imthesilentwriter]

Detectives for a Day

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: It’s Career’s Day at school, and you and Harry are tasked with interviewing James and Sirius about their work as Aurors.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, (please let me know if I have missed any)

Authors Note: Hey guys! How have you all been? Sorry, I haven't posted in a while; and most likely, won't post again for another couple of weeks. I hope you all enjoy this oneshot; sorry it's a bit long - honestly, I think my oneshots keep getting longer and longer... oh well. Thanks for reading!!

Word Count: 9,562

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The classroom hums with the faint rustling of paper and low whispers. Sunlight streams through the windows, painting streaks of gold on the tiled floor as the final lesson of the day nears its end. You’re seated beside Harry, your desk cluttered with doodled-on scraps of paper and a pencil teetering on the edge. Outside, the sun hangs low, casting a warm afternoon glow.

At the front of the room, Ms. Carter claps her hands to gather everyone’s attention. “All right, class, settle down! I’ve got something exciting to announce,” she says, her bright smile matching the colorful floral dress she wears. She picks up a piece of chalk and writes Career Day on the board in bold, swooping letters.

Harry leans toward you, muttering, “Bet it’s another boring writing assignment.”

You elbow him playfully. “What if it’s not? What if it’s actually fun?”

Ms. Carter’s voice lifts above the quiet murmurs. “Your next assignment will be a little different. Next week, you’ll visit one of your parents at their workplace to see what they do. Then, you’ll write a presentation about it to share with the class!”

The room buzzes with excitement as kids chatter among themselves.

“Does it have to be both parents?” someone asks.

“What if my dad works far away?” another chimes in.

Ms. Carter raises her hands for silence. “It can be one parent or guardian. I’ll send home letters with all the details today. Be sure to give them to your parents!”

You glance at Harry, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “We have to go to our dads’ work,” he whispers, his green eyes wide.

“Obviously,” you whisper back. Images of bustling hallways filled with wizards, magical gadgets, and secret missions flash in your mind.

“I bet they’ll show us all the cool Auror stuff,” Harry says, his grin widening. “Maybe they’ll even let us help!”

You giggle at the thought of solving cases like detectives in a storybook. “We’d be the best Aurors ever,” you say, eyes sparkling.

When the bell finally rings, the classroom erupts into motion. You and Harry grab your bags, clutching your Career Day forms, and dart out of the classroom, weaving through the crowded hallways.

The crisp afternoon air greets you as you step outside. The schoolyard is alive with laughter and chatter, the sun casting long shadows across the pavement. Just ahead, you spot Lily and Remus waiting near the gate, Lily’s red hair glowing in the sunlight.

“There they are!” Harry exclaims, tugging you along.

You both dash over, skidding to a stop in front of them.

“There’s my boy,” Lily says warmly, wrapping Harry in a hug. She turns to you with a smile. “And our star student. How was school, you two?”

“Good!” You and Harry say in unison as the four of you begin walking home.

“So, what did you get up to today?” Lily asks, her tone light.

Harry eagerly recounts how Ms. Carter read a funny story during morning lessons, and you chime in about the science experiment after lunch. Both adults listen with amused expressions as you and Harry try to outdo each other with details.

“And then Ms. Carter told us about our new assignment!” you add, your excitement spilling over.

“Oh?” Remus asks, his brow lifting. “What’s the assignment?”

“It’s Career Day!” Harry says with a wide grin. “We get to go to one of our parents’ jobs and write about it. Then we’ll present it to the class!”

You pull the crumpled form from your pocket and hand it to Remus. “Here, Dad. Ms. Carter said you have to sign it.”

Remus scans the paper, his expression growing thoughtful. You’re too busy talking to notice.

“It’s such a cool idea! I can’t wait to go to Daddy’s work! I bet it’s full of Auror gadgets and secret cases!”

“Detective gadgets,” Lily echoes with a wink, keeping the moment light.

“Right, detective gadgets!” you say, grinning.

“It’ll be awesome,” Harry adds. “I’ll get to see how my dad solves mysteries!”

Lily laughs. “I’m glad you’re both excited. And I think it’ll be great for you to go with your dad, Harry.”

Remus’s voice is quieter, more measured. “I’m… not so sure about this.”

You slow your steps, frowning. “Why not? If Harry gets to go, then I should too!”

“It’s not that simple,” Remus says, his tone cautious. “Your daddy’s job can be… complicated. I’m not sure it’s the best place for you to visit.”

“That’s not fair!” you protest, your voice rising. “I want to see what he does! I promise I’ll be careful!”

Remus’s hesitation lingers, but Lily steps in, her tone soothing. “You’ll both have to be careful about what you say during your presentations. We can’t exactly tell your classmates what your dads really do.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, his brow furrowing.

“Well,” Lily explains, “we’ll need to come up with something muggle-friendly to say. Something simpler.” She smiles at you both. “Remus and I will help you write it so it’s just right.”

Harry shrugs. “That’s fine. We’ll just call them detectives. That’s basically what they are, right?”

“Exactly,” Lily says, laughing softly.

You glance at Remus, still uneasy but keeping quiet. Harry nudges you with a grin. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “It’s going to be amazing. You’ll see.”

Despite your dad’s reluctance, you let yourself imagine the thrill of visiting the Auror Office, your excitement bubbling back up as you envision the adventure ahead.

The evening sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow across the kitchen. Shadows stretch lazily along the walls, softened by the warmth of the overhead light. You sit at the kitchen table, pencil tapping against your notebook as you work on your assignment. The smell of herbs and spices drifts through the room, and your stomach growls, urging you to ask if dinner is almost ready.

Instead, you swing your legs under the chair, barely able to sit still. Your attention wavers between the words scrawled across the page and the front door, your eyes darting to it every few minutes.

At the stove, Remus is a picture of calm. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing faint scars on his forearms as he stirs a pot with practiced ease. A wooden spoon clinks softly against the side of the pot, and steam curls into the air. He hums quietly, a tune you’ve heard a dozen times but can’t quite name. The sound wraps around you like a cozy blanket, soothing in its familiarity.

"When’s daddy getting home?" you ask suddenly, your voice cutting through the quiet.

Remus glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Soon. You’ll know the second he walks through the door because you always tackle him before he even has a chance to say hello."

You grin, not denying it. "I just miss him when he’s gone."

"Mm-hmm," Remus hums, his tone laced with amusement. "Now focus on your assignment before dinner gets cold."

You groan dramatically, slumping over your notebook. "This assignment is boring."

"What’s it about again?" Remus asks, even though you know he already remembers.

"Career Day," you reply with a sigh, twirling your pencil between your fingers. "I get to write about what I want to do when I grow up, and I get to go to Papa’s work and see what it’s like."

Remus pauses for the briefest of moments, the wooden spoon hovering over the pot. "That’s quite the assignment," he says carefully, resuming his stirring.

"Yeah! I’m going to write all about how daddy is the coolest," you declare proudly, your eyes lighting up at the thought.

Remus chuckles softly, shaking his head. "I’m sure your teacher will be impressed."

The faint creak of the front door interrupts the moment, and before Remus can even turn, you’re out of your chair. Your notebook lies forgotten on the table as your chair scrapes loudly against the floor.

"Daddy!" you shout, your voice echoing through the house.

Sirius barely manages to push the door closed before you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding on tightly. He stumbles slightly, caught off guard, but quickly recovers with a laugh.

"Missed me, did you?" he teases, ruffling your hair with one hand while his other sets his bag down by the door.

"So much!" you exclaim, tilting your head back to look up at him. "You got home safe!"

"I always do, love," he says warmly, crouching down so he’s eye-level with you. "Did you behave for your dad while I was gone?"

"Mostly," you answer with a cheeky grin, making Sirius laugh.

"All right, all right," Remus’s voice calls from the kitchen, cutting through the moment. "Let your daddy breathe. Go wash your hands—dinner’s ready."

You pout but do as you’re told, darting down the hallway toward the bathroom. Sirius watches you go, shaking his head fondly before heading into the kitchen.

"Smells amazing in here," he says, stepping behind Remus and slipping his arms around his waist.

"Don’t distract me," Remus says lightly, though the corners of his mouth twitch upward as he leans into the embrace for a moment.

"How was your day?" Sirius asks, pressing a kiss to Remus’s cheek before letting him go.

"Quiet," Remus replies, plating up the food. "She’s been excited about this Career Day assignment all afternoon."

"Ah," Sirius says knowingly. "She’s been asking about coming to work with me for weeks now."

Remus stiffens slightly, but before he can respond, you bound back into the room, your hands still damp from washing.

"I’m ready!" you announce, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"Then sit down," Remus says, gesturing to the table. "Dinner’s served."

You slide into your chair, Sirius taking the seat beside you as Remus sets the plates down. The clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation soon fills the room.

"So, how was school today?" Sirius asks, glancing at you as he spears a bite of food.

"It was good!" you say around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, earning a raised eyebrow from Remus, who gestures for you to swallow first. "Guess what, daddy? For Career Day, I get to come to your work with you! Isn’t that the coolest?"

Sirius’s face lights up, his grin matching your excitement. "That sounds awesome, kiddo! You’re going to love it."

"I know! I want to see all the gadgets and the cool cases you solve—"

"Hold on," Remus interrupts gently, setting his fork down. His expression is calm, but there’s a slight edge to his voice. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

You frown, your excitement faltering. "What do you mean? Daddy said it’s cool."

"It’s not that simple," Remus explains, his tone measured. "Your daddy’s job isn’t always… safe. I’m not sure it’s the best idea for you to go."

"But I’ll be with him the whole time!" you argue, your voice rising slightly as you turn to Sirius for support.

"We’ll talk about it later," Sirius says firmly, though his tone remains calm. He meets Remus’s gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

"After dinner," Remus agrees, though his voice is tight.

You slump back in your chair, your appetite dampened by the nervous flutter in your chest. The conversation shifts to lighter topics, but the tension lingers, a quiet undercurrent beneath the surface.

Later that night, you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. The house is still, but the faint sound of voices from down the hall draws your attention. They’re not loud, but there’s a sharpness in their tone that cuts through the quiet.

Curiosity and unease gnaw at you. Pushing the covers aside, you slip out of bed, your feet making barely a sound on the floor as you pad toward your parents’ room. The door is mostly shut, but the murmur of voices leaks through the crack, too muffled to catch every word but clear enough to feel the tension.

"You can’t just promise her things like that," Remus’s voice rises slightly, sharper than you’re used to hearing from him.

"She’s my daughter too," Sirius shoots back, his tone defensive. "And she’s excited about this. I don’t see the harm in letting her see what I do."

"The harm," Remus bites out, "is that your job is dangerous, Sirius. You know that better than anyone. How many times have you come home bruised or worse?"

"It’s not like I’m taking her on a mission," Sirius argues, frustration thick in his voice. "She’d be in the office. Just the office. She’d be safe—there’d be dozens of people around to make sure of that!"

"Safe?" Remus repeats, incredulous. "You think that’s the only concern? It’s not just about safety—it’s about what this teaches her. She already worships the ground you walk on, Sirius. What happens when she sees all the flashy parts of your job and none of the cost? What if she thinks this is what she wants to do one day?"

There’s a heavy pause, and you lean closer, your heart hammering in your chest.

"And what’s wrong with that?" Sirius’s voice drops, quieter now, but there’s a hard edge to it. "You don’t want her to see my work because you’re afraid she might admire it? Admire me?"

"Don’t twist my words," Remus snaps, his own voice losing some of its usual calm. "Of course she admires you. I just don’t want her idolizing a version of you that isn’t real. Your work isn’t just gadgets and clever plans, Sirius. It’s late nights, danger, and—you know it—it’s loss. I don’t want her thinking it’s all some kind of… adventure."

"She’s not a baby, Remus," Sirius counters. "She’s curious. She’s smart. If we explain things to her—really explain them—she’ll understand. She’ll see the whole picture."

"You think she’s ready for that picture?" Remus asks, his voice dropping again but no less intense. "She’s a child, Sirius. A child. Do you really think she can grasp what it is you do?"

"Maybe she can’t," Sirius admits, his tone softening. "But maybe it’s better she hears it from us than makes up her own version in her head. She’ll see the truth eventually, one way or another."

"Not if I can help it," Remus says, and there’s something steely in his voice now.

The room falls silent for a moment, the kind of silence that feels heavy, crackling with unspoken words.

"You always make everything so black and white," Sirius finally says, his voice quieter but tinged with frustration. "It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. We can let her in a little, on our terms, without putting her in harm’s way."

"And what happens if she wants more?" Remus counters. "What happens when a ‘little’ isn’t enough?"

"Then we handle it," Sirius says simply. "Together. Like we always do."

The silence returns, but this time it’s different. Not heavy, exactly, but not settled either.

You step back from the door, your chest tight. Their words swirl in your head as you retreat to your room, slipping under the covers as quietly as you left them. The voices fade as you burrow into your pillow, but the weight of their argument stays with you.

You’d wanted to see daddy’s work so badly, but now… you’re not sure what to think. The excitement that had filled you earlier feels tangled now, knotted up with confusion and guilt. You want to be proud of him, to see the world he steps into every day. But if it causes this much tension, is it really worth it?

Sleep doesn’t come easily that night, the echoes of your parents’ voices lingering in the back of your mind.

The sound of laughter fills the Potter’s living room as you and Harry construct your fort. It’s a chaotic mess of cushions, blankets, and chairs teetering dangerously, but to you and Harry, it’s nothing short of a masterpiece.

"We need one more chair for this side," Harry says, pointing to a sagging corner of the fort.

"I’ll grab it!" you say, scurrying off to find another chair.

When you return and the fort finally stays upright, you and Harry cheer loudly, your voices echoing through the house. You both duck inside, settling into the small space with triumphant grins.

As you sit cross-legged, Harry glances at you. "So, did your dad ever say if you can go to Career Day with your daddy?"

You frown, picking at a loose thread on one of the blankets. "Not yet. He’s… he’s worried about it."

Harry tilts his head, his green eyes curious. "Why’s he worried?"

You sigh, leaning back against the makeshift wall of the fort. "He says Daddy’s work is dangerous, and he doesn’t want me to think it’s all fun and exciting. He thinks I might get the wrong idea or something."

Harry nods slowly, considering this. "I mean, your dad’s kind of got a point. What your daddy does… it can be dangerous, right? He deals with bad people and stuff."

"Yeah, but I wouldn’t be doing any of that," you protest. "I’d just be in his office, meeting the people he works with. I wouldn’t be in danger."

"I get that," Harry says, his voice calm and thoughtful. "But I also get why your dad’s worried. He just doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Being scared for you—it’s kind of normal, isn’t it?"

You look at him, your brow furrowed. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Harry says with a shrug. "I mean, if my mum or dad thought something might hurt me, they’d be worried too. It doesn’t mean they don’t trust me or think I can handle it—they just care about me."

You’re quiet for a moment, his words sinking in. "I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that."

Harry grins. "Your dad’s just trying to keep you safe. It doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind if he sees how much this means to you."

"Maybe," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks, Harry."

"Anytime," he says, nudging your shoulder. "Now, are we making a second floor for this fort or what?"

You laugh, diving back into your plans, but his words stick with you, making you feel a little better.

From the kitchen, the hum of voices drifts through the house. Lily and your dad sit at the table, mugs of tea in hand.

"I just… I don’t know, Lily," Remus says, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug. "She’s so young. I don’t want her to think Sirius’s work is all fun and excitement. It’s not like that, and it’s not what I want for her."

Lily leans forward, her voice gentle but firm. "I understand where you’re coming from, Remus. You want to protect her. That’s what parents do. But you can’t shield her from everything forever. She’s curious—about Sirius, about his work—and that’s not a bad thing."

Remus sighs, his shoulders slumping. "I just… I’m worried about the example it sets. She already sees him as larger than life. What if this just adds to that? What if it gives her ideas—dangerous ones?"

Lily reaches across the table, placing a hand over his. "That’s where you come in. You and Sirius both. She doesn’t just look up to him, Remus—she looks up to you, too. You’re her balance. You can help her see the whole picture, the reality of it. It’s not about hiding it from her; it’s about helping her understand."

Remus is quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming softly against the table. "And what if I say yes, and she doesn’t understand? What if it’s too much?"

"Then you’ll talk to her," Lily says simply. "Like you always do. She’s smart, Remus, and she trusts you. You’ll know how to handle it. You always do."

A loud crash from the living room pulls their attention, and Lily stands to peek around the corner. "You two all right in there?"

"Everything’s fine!" Harry shouts, his voice muffled.

"We meant to do that!" you add, giggling.

Lily shakes her head, amused, and returns to her seat. Remus exhales a quiet laugh, some of the tension in his posture easing.

When it’s time to head home, you and your dad linger at the Potter’s kitchen table for a moment. He clears his throat, looking a little unsure. "Hey, kiddo. Sit down for a second. Let’s talk."

You slide into a chair, glancing at him curiously.

"I’ve been thinking," he starts, folding his hands on the table. "About Career Day. And I’ve decided you can go with your daddy to his work."

Your eyes widen, excitement bubbling to the surface. "Really?!"

"Really," he says with a small smile. "But there are going to be some ground rules."

"Okay," you say eagerly, sitting up straighter.

"First," he says, holding up a finger, "you stay with your daddy at all times. No wandering off, no matter how curious you get."

"Got it," you say, nodding earnestly.

"Second," he continues, "you listen to what he and his coworkers tell you. If they say something’s off-limits, you respect that."

"Of course!"

"And third," he says, his voice softening, "we’ll talk about what you see afterward. I want to make sure you understand everything, okay?"

You nod quickly, a grin spreading across your face. "Okay, Dad. I promise."

Before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around him in an impromptu hug. "You’re awesome! You’re the best dad ever!"

"Hold on—"

"Nope," you cut him off, squeezing him tighter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much, Dad."

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around you. "I love you too, kiddo. Just remember, this is a big responsibility, okay?"

"I will!" you say brightly, pulling back just enough to beam up at him.

For a moment, the worry in his eyes softens, replaced by something warm and fond. He ruffles your hair gently before letting you climb into the car, a small smile tugging at his lips.

As the car pulls out of the driveway, you lean back in your seat, already imagining all the cool things you’re going to see at your daddy’s work. Remus glances at you in the rearview mirror, shaking his head with a small, affectionate smile.

He still has his concerns, but for now, he’s content just seeing you happy.

You pull your coat on, excitement bubbling under your skin as you hop around the living room, searching for your shoes. Sirius is already waiting by the door, arms crossed and a smirk on his face as he watches you dart from place to place.

“Shoes, Darling,” he reminds, tapping his foot.

“I know!” you call, your voice muffled as you check under the couch cushions.

Remus steps into the room, holding the shoes you’d abandoned by the kitchen door. “Looking for these?”

You beam up at him, sliding them on as fast as possible. “Thanks, Dad!”

Remus folds his arms and gives you a look—a mix of fondness and the usual sternness that comes when he’s trying to make a point. “Before you leave, young lady, a few things.”

You groan theatrically. “Dad…”

“I’m serious,” he says, though the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smile. “I want you to behave yourself. No wandering off, no pushing your daddy to do anything reckless, and you listen to him. Understood?”

“Yes, Dad,” you promise, though the sparkle in your eyes suggests you’re already scheming.

Remus crouches down to your height, his hands resting on your shoulders. “I mean it. Daddy might make it look like fun and games, but what you’re seeing is serious work. Stay close and pay attention.”

You nod, seeing the worry etched in his eyes. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead before standing. “I’ll hold you to that. Sirius—”

Sirius raises a hand in mock solemnity. “Scout’s honor, Moony. I’ll keep her safe and out of trouble.”

“Hmm,” Remus says, clearly unconvinced. “She’s a lot like you, so good luck with that.”

With a grin and a wave, you head out the door with Sirius, who claps a hand on your shoulder as you walk down the path.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Sirius begins, picking up where Remus left off. “Your dad’s right, you know. Listening to me isn’t just for show—it’s about staying safe. The Ministry’s no joke, especially for people like us.”

“People like us?” you ask, glancing up at him curiously.

Sirius nods, his usual mischievous air dimming slightly. “Yeah. People who don’t quite fit their mold. Things can get dicey if we’re not careful. That’s why you stick with me and don’t go wandering off. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say, your voice quieter as you take his words to heart.

Before long, the two of you arrive at the prearranged meeting spot, where James and Harry are already waiting. James grins as he sees you approach, his glasses glinting in the morning light.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” James teases, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Alright, you two—got all your questions ready? This is your chance to grill us about the glamorous world of the Ministry.”

Harry glances at you, his expression a mix of excitement and nerves. “I think so…”

“Good,” Sirius says, pulling something from his pocket with a flourish. “Because if you forget any, I’ve got this.”

You blink at the tape recorder in his hand. “What’s that?”

“State-of-the-art Muggle technology,” Sirius replies proudly. “It’ll record every word for you. So no excuses if you miss something!”

James laughs, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d have a tape recorder, Pads.”

“Preparedness, Prongs,” Sirius says, winking at you.

The four of you set off toward the Ministry’s visitor entrance, the air buzzing with anticipation.

When you reach the unassuming red telephone box nestled in a quiet corner, Harry frowns, tilting his head. “Why are we taking the visitor entrance?”

James exchanges a look with Sirius, who grins. “Because, kiddo, you’re not employees. And last I checked, you’re not adults yet, either.”

James nods. “Visitor entrance is standard for anyone not on the payroll. Don’t worry—it’s all part of the experience.”

“Experience,” Sirius repeats, gesturing grandly at the phone box. “Now, step inside, and let the magic begin!”

Harry shoots you a look, part confusion and part amusement, as you both step into the cramped space. The adventure is officially underway.

The telephone box hums to life as James picks up the receiver, dialing an odd sequence of numbers. A calm, professional voice fills the cramped space.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“James Potter, Auror,” James replies. “Accompanied by Sirius Black, also an Auror, and two visitors for educational purposes.”

The floor beneath your feet lurches, and the telephone box begins to descend. Harry grips the side, his eyes widening as you flash him a reassuring grin.

The lift comes to a halt, and the doors swing open to reveal the vast, bustling atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The ceiling is enchanted to shimmer like a twilight sky, its deep navy hues flecked with golden constellations. Ornate fireplaces line the walls, wizards and witches stepping in and out of them in bursts of green flames. In the center of the atrium, a golden fountain stands proudly, its statues of magical beings sparkling as water cascades around them.

“Wow,” Harry breathes, craning his neck to take it all in.

You nod in agreement, your awe mirrored on his face. The space hums with energy—heels clicking against polished floors, the soft buzz of magical correspondence zipping overhead, and the murmur of voices as Ministry workers dart to and fro.

Sirius places a hand on your shoulder to guide you forward. “Keep up, darling. Plenty more to see.”

James leads the way to a smaller set of lifts, pressing the button for Level Two. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” he announces as the doors close. “Home sweet home.”

The lift halts with a ding, and you step into a hallway lined with doors, bustling with witches and wizards in deep blue robes. The Auror Office is just ahead, its glass doors etched with the department's crest.

Inside, the office is lively but chaotic—desks crammed with parchment, enchanted maps hovering mid-air, and memos zooming past like tiny paper birds. Wizards and witches are deep in conversation or examining strange artifacts under magnifying glasses.

Sirius waves his wand at a cluttered desk in the corner, clearing off a stack of case files. “Welcome to the Auror Office. That one’s mine.”

James points to the desk beside it, which is equally disheveled. “And that disaster zone is mine.”

“Your desks look... busy,” Harry says diplomatically, earning a bark of laughter from Sirius.

“Busy is an understatement,” Sirius replies, plopping into his chair. “Organized chaos, I call it.”

Before you can comment, James gestures to a large enchanted map pinned on one wall, glowing with various colored dots. "This," he explains, "is our main tracking map. Those dots represent different magical signatures—dark wizards, strange magical surges, and even certain enchanted objects. It helps us keep an eye on trouble spots."

“Does it show everything happening in the wizarding world?” Harry asks, leaning closer to inspect it.

James shakes his head. “Not everything. It’s enchanted to highlight only specific threats we’re monitoring. Each color represents something different. For example—” He points to a red dot hovering over a city. “This one marks a dark object in transit. The system flagged it because it hasn’t been cleared by the Department of Magical Artifacts.”

“Cool,” Harry murmurs, scribbling notes in his notebook.

Sirius nudges you gently. “See, sweetie? I told you we do more than just chase bad guys.”

Frank Longbottom appears at his desk nearby, his friendly demeanour catching your eye as he waves. “Speaking of bad guys, don’t forget about the paperwork. Dark wizards don’t file their own incident reports.”

You giggle softly, earning a smile from Frank before he gestures to a stack of parchment on his desk. “That right there is my ongoing case log. It’s a mix of surveillance notes, suspect interviews, and evidence cataloging.” He grins. “Not as glamorous as it sounds, but it’s part of the job.”

“What’s the hardest part of being an Auror?” you ask softly, feeling brave enough to interject.

Sirius leans back in his chair, his expression softening. “Sometimes it’s seeing the aftermath of what dark wizards do. It’s not always easy to walk away from a case unscathed.”

James nods solemnly. “And balancing it with family. It’s not the kind of job where you can just clock out at the end of the day.”

Frank raises his hand dramatically. “For me, it’s the paperwork. Merlin, I didn’t sign up to be a scribe.”

Moody, who has been silently observing from a nearby desk, snorts. “Paperwork’s the least of your problems. The hardest part is staying alive long enough to retire. Constant vigilance—that’s the name of the game.”

Harry looks at you, raising his eyebrows at the stark difference in answers.

James quickly changes the tone, gesturing toward a set of magical artifacts on another table. “These are confiscated items,” he says. “Mostly dark objects or cursed items that were used in illegal activity. Each one has to be cataloged and analyzed before we can decide what to do with it.”

Sirius points to a sinister-looking locket encased in a glass box. “That one’s got a nasty curse on it. Took us weeks to figure out how to contain it without setting it off.”

Harry leans closer to inspect it, his curiosity shining through. “What kind of curse?”

“Blood magic,” Sirius replies, his tone serious. “Very old, very dark. It’s dormant now, but you don’t want to be anywhere near it if it wakes up.”

You shudder at the thought, clutching your notebook tighter.

The group moves on to another section of the office, where a wall of moving photographs catches your attention. James stops to point them out. “These are some of the most wanted wizards we’ve ever dealt with. Each one of these cases took months—sometimes years—to resolve.”

“Not all of them are resolved,” Moody growls, his magical eye flicking to a blank space on the wall. “Some are still out there.”

Sirius pats you on the shoulder, sensing your unease. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’d have to get through us first.”

Your dad’s words soothe you, but only a little. Your eyes drift back to the board, taking in the grim collection of faces. Each one seems to have its own haunting presence, staring back at you with sneers, cold eyes, or twisted smiles. You shiver, huddling closer to Sirius, but something catches your attention.

A name, scrawled in dark ink beneath the image of a woman with wild, dark hair and a cruel smirk: Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Bellatrix?” you murmur aloud, furrowing your brow. “That’s… a star, isn’t it?”

Sirius glances at the board and stiffens. His usual carefree demeanor falters for a moment, and he looks at you carefully. “Yeah, it is. In the constellation Orion,” he says slowly, his tone almost cautious.

Your curiosity sparks further. “Like your name. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky, right? And Bellatrix is a star, too.” You glance up at him, a question already forming in your mind. “Do you know her?”

For a moment, Sirius doesn’t answer. His hand falls from your shoulder, and his jaw tightens. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and measured. “I do,” he admits. “She’s my cousin.”

Your eyes widen, and you take a small step back, staring between him and the board. “Your cousin?” The idea feels impossible. The woman’s smirk is malicious, her presence on the board threatening. She doesn’t look anything like Sirius—nothing like the kind, brave man who always makes you feel safe. “But… how? She’s…” You struggle to find the words, your voice dropping to a whisper. “She’s up there with them.”

Sirius exhales, running a hand through his hair. “She’s up there because that’s exactly where she belongs,” he says darkly. His tone carries a bitterness you rarely hear. “Bellatrix isn’t just some distant relation, Starlight. She’s… well, she was the worst of us. A fanatic who believed in everything the Black family stood for—pure-blood supremacy, power, cruelty. She’s hurt a lot of people. Done terrible things.”

You can’t quite reconcile the venom in his voice with the fact that they’re family. “But you’re not like that,” you say, your voice firmer now. “You’re not like her.”

Sirius looks at you, his expression softening. “No, I’m not. I never have been. But I can’t change where I come from, and neither could she. The difference is, I chose to walk away. Bellatrix… embraced it.”

You glance back at the photograph. Bellatrix’s face is striking, sharp features framed by wild curls, her expression unhinged even in a still image. It’s hard to believe she and your dad share the same bloodline. “She doesn’t seem anything like you,” you mutter.

“She’s not,” Sirius assures you, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—sadness, maybe, or regret. “We grew up in the same house, under the same rules, the same… expectations. But she made her choices, and I made mine.”

You look at him, questions swirling in your mind, but another face on the board catches your eye—another name. “And… what about him?” you ask, pointing to a photograph of a young man with dark hair and a quiet, somber expression. His name is listed as Regulus Arcturus Black.

Sirius’s jaw tightens again, and his hand rests on the back of his neck. “Regulus,” he says quietly. “That’s my brother.”

Your stomach twists. “Your brother?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. My little brother. He… well, he followed a different path than I did.” His voice softens, carrying a weight that makes your chest ache. “He believed in the family’s ideals for a long time—pure-bloods, power, all that rubbish. But in the end…” He trails off, his gaze distant. “In the end, he realized it wasn’t worth it. Not the way they wanted him to live.”

You blink up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Sirius sighs, crouching down so you’re face to face. “Regulus tried to break away from the family, just like I did,” he says, his voice steady but pained. “But it’s not as easy as it sounds. He didn’t want to be like them anymore, but he couldn’t outrun the expectations. And… he didn’t make it out.”

Your chest tightens at the thought of someone your dad cared about being caught up in something so dark. “He… he died?” you whisper.

Sirius nods, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Yeah. He did. But he realized the truth before the end, darling. That matters. It doesn’t make it right, but it matters.”

You glance back at the board, at the moving photographs of Bellatrix and Regulus, their faces so different yet tied to your dad in ways you never imagined. The weight of it all presses down on you. “That must’ve been hard,” you say softly.

“It was,” Sirius admits, his voice low. “But it’s ancient history now. What matters is the choices we make, not the ones others made before us.”

You look up at him, feeling a surge of pride. “You made the right choice, Daddy.”

He smiles at that, though there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Yeah, I did. And I’d make it again a thousand times over. But it’s not something I ever wanted to pass on to you.”

You nod, still trying to process everything. The board looms behind you, its dark faces and names a stark reminder of the weight your dad carries. But as he ruffles your hair and guides you away, you feel a little lighter knowing that no matter where he came from, he’s chosen to stand on the right side.

“Come on,” Sirius says, his usual grin creeping back onto his face. “Enough of this gloomy stuff. Let’s go find the Quidditch department. Maybe we can sneak you a team badge while we’re there.”

And just like that, the shadows of the past fade a little, replaced by the comfort of your dad’s hand on your shoulder and the warmth of his voice.

The Auror Office is buzzing with its usual energy—quills scratching, enchanted memos zooming through the air, and the occasional magical artifact emitting an ominous hum from a nearby desk. You’re perched on the edge of James’s desk with Harry, swinging your legs while Sirius leans casually against a filing cabinet, tossing a small rubber ball into the air and catching it repeatedly.

“Potter. Black.”

The gruff voice of Alastor Moody cuts through the noise like a thunderclap. You turn to see him striding toward you, his magical eye whirling wildly in its socket. He stops in front of James and Sirius, his gnarled hand clutching a rolled-up parchment.

“We’ve got reports of a cursed item causing a stir at a Muggle children’s park,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “Nothing too dangerous, by the looks of it, but it’s spooking the locals. Do you mind checking it out?”

James grins, standing up and clapping his hands together. “On it, boss.” He’s already grabbing his wand from the desk, looking more excited than he probably should be for what sounds like a simple mission.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A cursed item in a park? Sounds like our kind of job.” Then he turns to you and Harry, his grin widening. “What do you two think? Fancy seeing your dads in action?”

Harry’s eyes light up immediately. “Really? We can come?”

“Of course!” Sirius says, ruffling his godson’s hair before glancing at you. “What about you, sweetheart? Up for a little adventure?”

You nod enthusiastically, your heart already racing with excitement. “Yes!”

Moody lets out a grumble, his magical eye swiveling to focus on Sirius. “Just don’t let them wander off, Black. This is a retrieval mission, not a field trip.”

“Relax, Moody,” Sirius says with a wink. “They’ll stay close. Right, detectives?”

“Right!” you and Harry say in unison, grinning at each other.

James chuckles, motioning for you all to follow. “Alright, let’s go save the day.”

Sirius throws an arm around your shoulder as the four of you head toward the Apparition point. “Stick close, kids. You’re about to see how it’s done.”

The sun is high, casting long shadows across the colorful play structures of the park. The air smells faintly of freshly cut grass and sunscreen, blending with the happy shouts of children playing. James and Sirius survey the park with practiced ease, their wands tucked discreetly in their sleeves.

“Alright, detectives,” James announces, turning to you and Harry with a smile. “We’ve got a job to do. Sirius and I will handle the tricky bits, but we need your sharp eyes. Keep a lookout for anything unusual—something that doesn’t belong in a park, or feels… off.”

You raise your hand like you’re in class. “What kind of cursed item are we looking for? Is it dangerous?”

James crouches down to your eye level, his expression patient. “Good question. It could be anything—jewelry, a toy, even something like a piece of trash. The important thing is how it feels. If it gives you a weird sensation, like tingling or heaviness, don’t touch it. Let us know straight away.”

Harry tilts his head. “Why would someone leave a cursed object in a park?”

Sirius smirks, clearly enjoying the moment. “Sometimes it’s deliberate—someone causing trouble. Other times, it’s accidental. Cursed objects have a way of moving around on their own. Like a stray dog.”

“Or a stray Black,” James quips.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Funny. But seriously, don’t underestimate it. Even small curses can cause big problems in the wrong place.”

Harry nods, his brow furrowed in concentration. “So, if we see anything weird, we tell you. Got it.”

“Exactly.” James claps him on the shoulder before straightening up. “Let’s split up, but stay close. Harry, you check near the swings. Y/N, you take the sandpit. Sirius and I will cover the rest.”

You and Harry exchange a quick nod before heading off.

You crouch by the sandpit, scanning the soft grains for anything unusual. Harry joins you, pretending to adjust a stray plastic bucket. “Do you think it’s actually here?” he whispers.

“Probably,” you reply, brushing some sand aside with your shoe. “They wouldn’t bring us along if it wasn’t.”

“What happens if someone touches it?” Harry asks, his voice low. “Would it hurt them?”

“Depends on the curse,” you say, glancing at him. “Dad said some are just annoying, but others… they can be dangerous.”

Harry nods, his gaze flicking toward James and Sirius, who are inspecting the area around the merry-go-round. “They look so... professional. It’s weird seeing them like this. They’re always joking around at home.”

“Except Sirius,” you say with a grin. “He’s always Sirius.”

Harry groans, shaking his head. “That was awful.”

You’re about to retort when something shiny catches your eye near the fence. “Harry,” you whisper, nudging him. “Look. Over there.”

Harry follows your gaze, his eyes widening. “Is that it?”

“Maybe,” you say, your pulse quickening. “Let’s call them over.”

Before you can, a woman with a stroller pauses nearby, eyeing you curiously. “Lose something?”

“Oh, just an old coin,” you say quickly, thinking on your feet. “Family heirloom. We’re trying to find it.”

Harry nods, adding, “It’s supposed to be lucky. We think it’s buried here somewhere.”

The woman smiles, adjusting her grip on the stroller. “Good luck, then.”

As soon as she moves on, you wave to Sirius and James.

“What’ve you got, darling?” Sirius calls, already making his way over.

James crouches beside you, examining the shiny object. “Good spotting. This looks like the one.”

“What is it?” Harry asks, leaning closer.

“Cursed locket,” James says, carefully extracting it with his wand. “Nothing too dangerous now, but it’s better off in our hands than left here.”

Sirius slips the locket into a protective pouch, giving you and Harry a proud smile. “You two did great. Perfect teamwork.”

As you head back to the car, you feel a swell of pride. Watching James and Sirius handle the mission so confidently makes you realize just how skilled—and how cool—your dads really are.

The moment you step back into the office, Sirius strides toward the storage cabinet tucked into the corner, the cursed item wrapped securely in protective layers. You trail behind him, glancing around the space that feels both familiar and vast. Once the item is locked away, Frank Longbottom appears in the doorway, his expression serious but calm.

“Sirius,” Frank calls, his voice low. “Meeting’s starting.”

Sirius exchanges a glance with James, who nods and turns to you and Harry. “Alright, you two,” James says, gesturing toward your desks near the window. “Sit down and get started on that speech. We’ll be back soon. Stay at your desks, no wandering off. Understood?”

You and Harry both nod in unison. “Got it, Dad,” Harry replies, already pulling out the rough draft of the written speech from his bag. You follow his lead, settling in at your desk and reaching for your quill.

“Good,” James says, clapping Harry lightly on the shoulder before heading out with Sirius. As the door closes behind them, the room feels quieter, but the faint hum of activity in the building carries on.

The two of you begin working, the soft scratch of quills on parchment filling the air. Harry leans over slightly to whisper, “Do you think we’re supposed to include the part about the timeline here, or save it for later?”

“Save it,” you whisper back, “it’ll make more sense after we explain the context.” You chew on the end of your quill, thinking about how to phrase the next sentence.

That’s when you hear it—muffled voices rising from somewhere down the hall. At first, it’s easy to ignore, but then the volume increases, and the tone sharpens. You glance at Harry, who’s also stopped writing, his eyes flicking toward the door.

The older man’s voice booms through the hallway, even though the words are somewhat muffled. “You could’ve gotten us both killed!” he yells, the anger in his tone unmistakable. “Do you even realize how close it was? You weren’t paying attention!”

The younger man responds, but his voice is quieter, harder to make out. You catch fragments of an apology, something about being distracted, but the older man cuts him off.

“Distracted? That’s not an excuse! We’re lucky to even be standing here right now. If you can’t keep your head in the game, you’re going to get yourself—and everyone around you—killed.”

You and Harry exchange a look, wide-eyed but silent. The argument continues in the background as you both turn back to your work, though it’s harder to focus now. You keep sneaking glances at the door, the words from the argument replaying in your mind.

Is this what it’s always like for your dad? For Harry’s dad? You knew their jobs were important, but you’re beginning to wonder just how dangerous it really is. The thought sits heavily in your chest as you try to concentrate on finishing your sentence.

The sound of footsteps signals the end of the meeting, and moments later, Sirius and James re-enter the room. James walks over to Harry’s desk, his usual easy grin back in place. “Harry, want to come take a look at that new prototype before we head home?”

Harry brightens immediately, nodding. “Yeah, definitely!”

“Great.” James ruffles your hair lightly on his way out. “Hope to see you, your dad, and Remus at ours for dinner tonight.”

“We’ll be there,” Sirius replies, watching them leave. The door closes behind them, and the room quiets again. Sirius settles at his desk, pulling out a stack of paperwork. His quill scratches against the parchment, but he pauses when he notices you’ve gone unusually quiet.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and giving you his full attention.

You hesitate, fiddling with the corner of your parchment. Finally, you look up at him. “I heard someone yelling in the hall,” you admit softly. “An older man was yelling at a younger man about almost getting them both killed because he wasn’t paying attention.”

Sirius’s expression softens, though there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. “You overheard that, huh?”

You nod. “Is that... is that what your job is like? Is it really that dangerous?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before coming over to sit on the edge of your desk. “Listen,” he says gently, “there are parts of my job that can be dangerous, yeah. But we’re trained for it, and we’re always careful. The man you heard—well, sometimes mistakes happen, and they can be scary. But we do everything we can to keep each other safe.”

You chew on your lip, still unsure. “But what if something goes wrong?”

Sirius leans forward, resting a hand on your shoulder. “That’s why we work together, why we have teams. And that’s why I come home every day—to you and Remus. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Okay?”

You nod slowly, his words easing some of the tension in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good.” He grins, squeezing your shoulder before heading back to his desk. “Now, finish up that speech. We’ve got a dinner to get to.”

“Alright, who’s next?” Ms Carter asks, the classroom buzzes with quiet chatter as you and Harry step up to the front,  your project materials in hand. The whiteboard behind you is blank except for the title of your presentation, written in Harry’s neat handwriting: A Day in the Life of a Detective.

Harry sets down the props—a small wooden box filled with papers, a few pens, and a notebook—while you adjust the easel holding up your poster board. It’s covered in diagrams, timelines, and sketches, all carefully crafted to sell your story.

“Alright,” you begin, looking out at the room, “thanks for being patient, everyone. Harry and I are here to talk about what it’s like to grow up with parents who work as detectives.”

A few murmurs ripple through the class, some students leaning forward with interest. You glance at Harry, who gives you an encouraging nod before stepping in.

“Our dads have been partners for years,” Harry says, his voice steady and confident. “They work on really complex cases—missing people, stolen items, that sort of thing.”

“They’re really good at it, too,” you add, a touch of pride slipping into your tone. “They’ve solved some cases that seemed impossible.”

“Like what?” a voice pipes up from the back of the room. It’s Daniel, always the first to challenge anyone. “What kind of impossible cases?”

Harry grins, clearly ready for this. “Well,” he starts, “there was this one case about a guy who disappeared from a locked room. No windows, no secret passages, nothing. It was like he vanished into thin air.”

You pick up where Harry leaves off. “Our dads figured out that the guy used a trapdoor hidden under the carpet. It led to a tunnel that came out a block away. Everyone else missed it because the trapdoor was enchanted to—” You catch yourself, flushing slightly. “Uh, I mean, it was really well-hidden.”

“How did they figure it out?” asks Emily from the front row, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

Harry leans on the desk behind him, arms crossed casually. “They worked out that the floorboards in that corner of the room sounded different. They were hollow. And there was a tiny scrap of dirt on the carpet that didn’t match the rest of the room.”

You nod. “They’re really good at noticing little details like that. Stuff most people would overlook.”

Another hand shoots up. “What’s the most dangerous thing they’ve had to do?” Sam asks, his eyes wide.

You exchange a quick glance with Harry. You’ve talked about this, rehearsed the details so it sounds thrilling but believable. “There was a case where they had to track down a group of thieves,” you say. “These people were stealing priceless artifacts and hiding out in abandoned buildings.”

Harry jumps in. “Our dads had to stake out one of their hideouts for hours, waiting for the right moment. When they finally went in, the thieves tried to make a run for it.”

“They cornered them in this narrow alley,” you add, your voice dropping for dramatic effect. “It was tense, but they managed to arrest all of them without anyone getting hurt.”

“That’s so cool!” says Ava, practically bouncing in her seat. “Did they get scared?”

You hesitate, but Harry answers smoothly. “Sometimes, yeah. They always say it’s normal to feel scared—it keeps you sharp. But they’re trained to handle those situations.”

“Do they ever talk about their cases at home?” another classmate asks.

“Not really,” you reply. “They keep most of the details private. But sometimes they’ll tell us little bits, like how they solved a puzzle or tracked someone down.”

Harry nods. “They’re careful not to bring their work home too much. They say it’s important to have a balance.”

The questions keep coming, and you and Harry take turns answering, weaving a web of stories that blend just enough truth with fiction to keep everyone captivated. By the time you wrap up, the class is buzzing with admiration for your “detective dads” and their incredible cases.

As you return to your seats, Harry leans over and whispers, “Think they bought it?”

You grin, keeping your voice low. “Completely. We should be detectives ourselves at this rate.”

The evening sun casts a warm golden hue over the Potter household as you and Harry burst into the living room, laughter spilling out as you hold up your project board for all to see. The presentation had been a resounding success, and the excitement buzzes in the air like static.

“Mum! Dad!” Harry calls, his voice carrying through the house. “We nailed it!”

Lily steps into the living room, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Remus follows shortly after, holding a steaming mug of tea, a soft smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you both glowing with pride.

"Let me see, let me see!" Lily says, crouching slightly as Harry angles the board toward her. Her eyes scan over the carefully placed pictures, diagrams, and handwritten notes. "This is incredible, you two. Look at the detail!"

“We worked really hard,” you chime in, beaming. “And everyone loved our mystery theme!”

Remus nods, his amber eyes sparkling with pride. “I knew you two would do great. You’ve both been talking about this project for weeks. It’s clear how much effort you put into it.”

Sirius emerges from the hallway, his hands in his pockets and a smug grin plastered across his face. "Did someone mention mystery? Clearly, the two best sleuths had some inspiration from yours truly."

You giggle, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. He chuckles softly, ruffling your hair in response. “I’m glad you’re my detective,” you say, your voice muffled slightly against his chest.

He freezes for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the sentiment, before his arms wrap around you. “And I’m glad you’re my partner in crime,” he murmurs, his voice warm with affection.

“Oi, what about me?” Harry protests, mock offense lighting up his face. “I helped too!”

“Don’t worry, Prongslet,” Sirius says, releasing you and reaching over to pull Harry into a one-armed hug. “You’re my deputy detective.”

Remus shakes his head, hiding a small smile behind his mug. “I think Lily and I deserve some credit too. Someone had to teach you two where to look for clues.”

Harry grins and leans back. “Maybe you guys can help with our next mission.”

“Next mission?” Lily raises an eyebrow, amusement clear on her face.

“Oh, yeah,” you say with a conspiratorial nod, moving to stand beside Harry. “We already have ideas. It’s going to be even bigger than this one.”

“And, of course,” Harry adds, glancing at you with a playful grin, “we’ll need our dads to help us solve it.”

Sirius smirks. “Well, I am the best detective around.”

Remus snorts. “Debatable.”

The adults exchange amused looks before nodding in unison. “We’re in,” Sirius says dramatically, crouching slightly and holding out his hand like a pact.

You and Harry place your hands on top of his, and then Remus reluctantly adds his own. “This is going to end in chaos,” he mutters, but the soft laugh that follows betrays his excitement.

Lily watches the scene with a fond smile, her arms crossed as she leans against the doorframe. “Just don’t burn the house down,” she says, shaking her head.

“No promises!” Sirius and Harry say in unison, and the room erupts in laughter, the sound carrying into the cozy evening.

[newsonashipopinionpoll]

*Note: this poll is set during P5's era.

[i-need-a-slurpee]

i suggest the name aoi motome (碧 元目) to refer to green pencil case guy as. since aoi can mean green (especially in the way its written there) and motome means "eye from the beginning" like how he's always been watching akira djskdjsfds

HELP YES THAT'S HIS NAME ANON THANK YOU I DON'T HAVE TO SAY THAT LONG ASS TITLE ANYMORE

[respectthepetty]

Addicted Heroin (Th) Cut Scenes and Colors - Episode 4

I'm reporting on the missing scenes from YouTube's version of Addicted Heroin [episode: one, two, three], but let me state before I share episode four's missing scene -

WATCH THE UNEDITED VERSION!

I don't care how you get it, but you need to watch that version because the edited version is missing entire chunks of relationship development, and I cannot make sense of why or how the company decided to cut these moments.

Now . . .

First cut scene:

After Pop sprains his ankle, and Hero takes him home, Hero spends the night again. They are wearing the same color and sleeping on Green Guy Pop's green bed. Hero wakes up in the middle of the night, not because Pop is snuggled up to him, but because Pop's foot isn't elevated.

So like the Blue Boy he is, he gets up, adjusts Pop, elevates his foot, and lays back down.

Second cut scene:

The next day, Hero and Pop walk into class with Hero trying to get Pop to rest his sprained foot on his foot so Hero can walk for both of them. It's a ridiculous idea, but Tiger is in the classroom sitting next to Pink Person's Only's pink bottle, package, and pencil case, which tracks because even Only's shoelaces are pink.

Pop tells Hero to apologize to Tiger for yelling at him the previous day and when Hero argues back, Pop plainly tells him if he doesn't, he won't be allowed to "climb him into bed tonight." Tiger is confused but Hero gets the message!

He apologizes to Yellow Yal Tiger, but it comes across as a threat as he tells Tiger to forgive, right now(!), and I noticed that Tiger's pencil case is a yellow car while Hero is basically physically holding Tiger in place so he doesn't run away.

Third cut scene:

When Hero goes to speak to the leaders, he speaks much longer to them and outlines the issues: 1) his aunt is being bullied, so the leader states she will have a booth in a building now, 2) his uncle was not paid, so the leader says that is a private matter since the uncle worked for a private company but they'll get him his money, so 3) Hero says if he worked for the government, that wouldn't be a problem, so the leader says they magically have an open position, and 4) the road to Pop's house is awfully dark, so the leader says it will be lit up like a festival by the next day.

They give him the beautiful basket and send him on his way as they freak out about all they just promised him.

Fourth cut scene:

Once all the changes start to happen, Pop catches on quickly that Hero has done something to make it happen, so Hero immediately owns up to it, and tells Pop he pulled some strings based on his name and connections.

Pop says even though he wants to be upset and feels like it's cheating, he is happy for his dad, and knows that his grandma and dad love Hero anyway, so they wouldn't be upset either. Then, HERO ASKS IF POP LOVES HIM TOO!

Pop calmly responds that Hero is basically a stray dog that he has taken in for good karma and walks away.

Fifth cut scene:

Hero's friends, Spark and Panther, come to visit for Spark's birthday, so Hero asks Pop where the best place in town is so he can take them. It's a small-town karaoke bar which means it's far from the places these rich boys usually visit, and they clearly don't like it. They go as far as making fun of Pop's name calling him Pop-Eye and Poppy which Hero quickly puts a stop to it.

Spark brought alcohol that his father got oversees, so they get drunk from it. Pop is drinking soda instead, so Hero takes his blue cup and drinks from it prompting Spark to question Pop about how close he is with Hero since Hero never allows anyone to share his drinks or touch him.

Pop realizes that Hero's story of "friends giving a helping hand" was a lie since when Spark tried touching Hero, Hero immediately got upset and threw Spark's hand off of him.

Sixth cut scene:

Hero is drunk, or at least says he is, so Green Guy Pop takes him back to his house, and Hero is clingy believing they'll be snuggled up in Pops' green bed any second now as usual.

But BAM! There are two color-coded beds in the room! Pop's green one is still there, but right next to it is Hero's new blue bed, which Pop's dad brought him as a thank you for the job.

Hero is not pleased about this development and wants to sleep in Pop's bed with him. He tries making a case for himself by saying that it's winter and Pop will get cold. Pop tells him he actually gets very hot at night with Hero next to him. Hero then says that Pop likes to snuggle him (which is true), but Pop throws out that he knows the "friends' helping hand" story is fake!

Pop says he'll go sleep with his dad since Hero won't stop pestering him, so Hero finally says he'll sleep on his own color-coded bed and stops begging Pop.

Seventh cut scene:

After Pop and Hero realize their parents are married to each other and they are now step-brothers, they go through a color-coded journey (which was in the edited version), but I need to point out that Pop is sitting on Hero's bed rather than his own!

But Pop is skipping school and his responsibilities because of it, and Only is concerned. During their morning assembly, Only questions his "Kitty" (which is what he calls Tiger and Hero has started this as well). Tiger doesn't know anything and is annoyed Only is bothering him about this because he thinks if Pop wanted to tell them, he would have, so they just need to mind their business.

Hero tells Only to tell Pop that Hero won't be at school the next day, so Pop can come back then he leaves the assembly. Only is confused, but convinces Tiger that they need to visit Pop now that they have to deliver this super important message. Tiger is even more annoyed.

Eighth cut scene:

The boys ride on Tiger's yellow bike to Pop's house to delivery the super important message and comment on how romantic this ride is like a scene from a love movie.

Then they hit another bump, so Only grabs Tiger too tight and Tiger is, once again, annoyed. (I LOVE THEM!)

Ninth cut scene:

The boys arrive at Green Guy Pop's house, and Only jumps into the questions that need answers, like 1) how close is Pop to Hero since they are alternating days to attend school, 2) did they have an argument, 3) why are there two beds, 4) does Pop have a sibling they don't know about, and 5) what the fuck is going on. Tiger is upset because Only is being nosy and tells him to mind his own business, but they argue because Only tells Tiger he clearly doesn't know as much as Tiger (a snarky comment about Tiger being smart) and states that the Pink Sand Duo (which I think are girls from his Only Fans) overheard Hero speaking to the principal about transferring schools.

Pop looks down at his and Hero's pink notebook of love writing exercises and becomes instantly sad.

Bonus scene:

Because if you are watching the unedited version, you deserve a spoiler.

This scene was in the show with Pop walking back home with his green socks/shoes, but the shirt he gets snatched in is the same shirt he is wearing in the trailer when he is tied up.

AKA HERO'S DUMB ASS IS JUST LIKE HIS DAD AND KIDNAPPED POP!

[kkeidawrites]

Something Borrowed

Day 23 of Blacktober! Still sick and shit but here you guys go!

A warm morning rose in the horizon, as students made their quiet walk to school. Properly dressed in their uniforms and holding their backpacks, students entered into their friend groups as they made walked through the front gates of campus.

Teachers waved at them in greeting to some while others scolded the typical juveniles that were already making a ruckus.

All of a sudden, the courtyard of students immediately goes silent as a group of students makes their way through the parting crowds of students.

The famous basketball team known as the Generation of Miracles were like their own version of celebrities at Teikō Junior High and quite frankly the only known sports team that was the reason for bringing so many new students to attend.

Almost immediately, all the girls are running up to Kise cheering and gushing over him; the blonde mentioned is more than happy to welcome the attention.

“Kise, come on we have to go!” Daiki yells annoyed.

“We’ll just meet him in class Daiki, no need to wait for him. He couldn’t move if he wanted to anyway.” Akashi says readjusting his bag over his shoulder.

Once in class, the basketball players were seated in their selected seats and talked amongst themselves.

“Did you hear about the new volleyball player that moved from the states? I heard she’s really good!” A student sitting in front of Akashi gossips.

“No way! Is she hot?” Another student asks excitedly.

“No idea, I haven’t seen or heard anyone around say anything but if she’s a volleyball player then she has to be smokin’!” They say and Daiki hums in thought at the new information.

“A new volleyball player? They’re letting in more players this year? I thought tryouts were over?” Nijimura asks.

“Maybe something happened.”

Midorima juggled his lucky item of the day, this time an eraser as he listened to his teammates speak. He didn’t know why they cared about things so trivial, they had a game in two days and that was more important than some new face on campus.

The toll of the school bell rings and the students hanging out around their friend’s desks scrambled to take their seats. Once everyone was settled, the teacher walks in to stand behind their brown desk.

“Good morning everyone, as you know we have a quiz today on the skeleton so I hope you have prepared for it.”

Groans are heard as the teacher waves their hand to dismiss the noises.

“If you studied then this will be easy to do. But before we start, we have a new student attending our class and I would hope that you all will be nice to her. Come on in Y/n!” The teacher calls.

The classroom door slides open and in steps in the new student that they were referring to. The gasps and awes from the seated students were heard as the student stands in front of the classroom. Donning the female school uniform and uwabakis, the new student gives a polite smile.

“Good morning everyone, my name is L/n Y/n, I just moved here a few days ago and I hope we all can get along!” She bows to the students.

The GOM watched the new girl with a peaked interest, especially Midorima who pushes up his glasses up his nose.

Her hair was styled in a low ponytail her curls flared out down her back, dark brown skin, white teeth, and black rimmed glasses showing off brown eyes.

“Very good, Y/n now you can take your seat in front of Midorima. Midorima, if you could please raise your hand.” The teacher calls and the green haired student does as he’s told.

Y/n makes her way to the empty desk in front of the one called Midorima and nods in greeting to him. Sitting in her seat, she takes out her books and green pencil case and focuses in front of her as the teacher begins their lesson.

Midorima hmphs indifferently and starts to write down the review notes for today’s quiz.

“Psst!” He ignores the sound.

“Psssst!” Again, ignoring and writing faster.

“Psssssssssst! Midorima!” Sighing and rolling his eyes, Midorima looks behind him to see Daiki trying to get his attention.

“What?” Midorima hisses.

“Pass this off to the new girl.” He shoves a folded piece of paper to Midorima who frowns in annoyance.

“No.” He deadpans.

“Come on, you’re literally right behind her. Please?” Daiki begs and Midorima takes the paper and throws it over to where Kuroko is sitting.

“Ah Midorima!” Daiki hisses aggravated while Midorima returns to his studies.

Kuroko ever so curious, opens up the letter and reads it quietly. He then turns around and makes a blank face at Daiki who blushes embarrassed.

“It’s not for you, you halfwit!” He whispers then points to Y/n who is busy writing down what was on the board.

Kuroko shrugs and politely places the piece of paper on Y/n’s desk who looks up to see who placed it on her desk.

Kuroko waves in kind and starts writing on his paper, Y/n picks up the piece of paper and reads the note.

‘Hey, I think you’re pretty want to go out sometime?’

Pursing her lips, Y/n gives a raised brow at Kuroko who shakes his head and points his thumb behind him. Y/n follows the thumb to see a blue haired boy with a smirk on his lips and a wink sent her way.

Y/n crumbles up the paper and sets it beside her pencil case.

“Not interested.” she whispers and Daiki just smirks even more.

“Alright, everyone it’s time for the quiz! Go ahead and put your notes and review sheets away.” The teacher says with a pile of blank quiz papers in their arms as they walked down the three aisles of desks and set down a quiz for each student they passed.

Once everyone got theirs, the teacher sits back down at their desk and puts a timer of thirty minutes on their phone.

The sounds of pencils scribbling and are heard throughout the classroom. Midorima had just about finished his quiz without struggling on any of the questions.

He looks up when he heard the sound of cluttering of mechanical pencils and sees Y/n was looking for something in her pencil case. He goes back to his test and scribbles the last of his answers.

“Oh man,” she groans and sighs. She left her eraser at home and of course this would happen when she was taking a test, but she needed to change one equation and she would be done.

Looking around her, she could see the other students had their own erasers on their pencils and thought it would be awkward to ask to use it.

Turning around, she taps on the green haired student’s desk getting his attention as he looks up at her.

“Sorry to bother you but,” she points at his eraser sitting by his quiz paper.

“Can I borrow that really quick? I promise to give it back.” She promised and Midorima looked at her like she had gained another head.

“Ask someone else.” He tries to say politely but, Y/n shakes her head.

“Everyone else has one on their pencils and it would be impolite and weird to ask to borrow their pencil.” She says.

Midorima mulls over his decision to hand over his lucky item and subconsciously picks it up, rubbing it gently.

“You’ll give it right back? No funny business?” He asks. Y/n nods and Midorima bites his lip in hesitation as he hovered the eraser over her open outstretched hand. Y/n could see he was practically shaking and gave a soft smile, closing her hand.

“You don’t have to give it to me, it’s okay. I can just mark it out and write over it, okay? It’s no big deal. Thanks anyway.” She says and turns back around to continue on her quiz.

Midorima however, lets out a relieved sigh and places the eraser back on his desk. However, now, he couldn’t focus on finishing his quiz, he looked up at Y/n’s back and then back down at the eraser.

“Ten more minutes everyone!” Their teacher announced and Midorima looked down to see he had one more question to finish but, he couldn’t even read the question as he kept looking over at the eraser.

Sighing, Midorima puts down his pencil and picks up the eraser again. Holding it, and caressing the soft pink coating, he leans forward in his seat and taps Y/n on her right shoulder.

She jumps slightly and looks behind her to see Midorima holding out his eraser to her. Eyes widening in surprise, Y/n gently takes the eraser and looks at him in shock.

“Are you sure you want me to use this? You don’t mind?” She asks.

“Just hurry and fix your mistake and let me have it back.” He says snippy.

“Okay, I’ll be very quick I promise!” She says and turns around to eraser her mistake.

The other GOM members stare at Midorima in shock, even Kuroko was gaping at him in disbelief. Midorima had never allowed anyone to touch his lucky item before and all of a sudden this girl not only touched it but used it.

Just as promised, Y/n hands Midorima his eraser back and he looks it over to see it had barely been touched, no pink shavings or anything was left on it.

Setting it back down, Midorima finishes his quiz and leans back in his chair with his arms folded, avoiding the gaze of his teammates but sneaking glances at Y/n every once in a while.

Within the next couple of days, everyone got their quizzes back graded and class was over for the day. Today, Y/n is bombarded by the girls in the classroom all wanting to know where she was from and what she was like.

Midorima however, was still being bombarded by his teammates in the hallways, their destination to lunch. His brisk walk away from his teammates didn’t do much as they kept up the same pace as he through the hallways to the cafeteria.

“Come on Midorima! What was that about a couple of days ago? You just let some random girl touch your lucky item! Something you have NEVER let anyone do before!” Kise says and Midorima just remains silent, blatantly ignoring his and the others questioning.

“I told you all to leave me alone-“

“Midorima! Hey!” The GOM members stop in the middle of the hallway and look behind them to see Y/n running up to them, her bag bouncing on her hip as she came closer.

Stopping abruptly, she is met with Daiki using his tall body to lean down to her height and smirk at her.

“Hey there, Y/n did you change your mind about what I asked ya earlier this week?” He asks and Y/n frowns disinterested and makes her way over to Midorima. Waving politely to the other members of his group, Y/n focuses on Midorima who is staring at her with a confused look on his face.

“Hey, I wanted to thank you for letting me use your eraser. That really helped me out.” She says with a smile and then digs into her bag.

“Here,” she pulls out another eraser and holds it out for him to take. Midorima looks at the eraser and notices that it is the same one as the one he had. Taking it into his hands, he carefully inspects the eraser for any trace of indifference or damages and then back to Y/n.

“I really appreciate it but, I have to go now, enjoy your new eraser.” She says and is quick to leave the GOM, her waving at them as she departs.

“Wow, now that’s something I’ve never seen before. A girl who is nice enough to give something to Midorima? That’s new.” Murasakibara mutters.

He watches the girl go and tightens his fist around the eraser in his right hand, a small smile appearing on his lips then quickly disappearing before any of his teammates saw.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

If you guys want a part 2 let me know! Otherwise please like, comment, and reblog! Be sure to let me know in my inbox what you may want for this month’s fanfiction stories!

[poedays]

Poe may i please have a Huxley fluffy holiday headcanon for retribution of your sad and lonely William headcanon :(((

Of course :)

- Huxley spends the holiday season with his mothers, and he always buys them both ugly Christmas sweaters from Dahlia as a ‘back home’ gift.

- When he was a kid, he and his family (extended) would have gingerbread house building competitions and Huxley would make the ground tremor to made other kids’ houses fall down. He did this subconsciously. He was hence banned from the gingerbread house building competitions.

- Huxley volunteers among some Dahlia establishments to help put up lights and decorations for the holiday season. He knows a lot of small business owners by name and gets free stuff sometimes because of his kind and responsible nature.

- On his calendar, the 25th of December is circled violently with red and green pen - to the point where it sort of covers the days around it. (Huxley’s favourite holiday is Christmas).

- Huxley was ecstatic about the realisation that he and Damien were Christmas themed together:

“Dames! Dames! You’ll never guess what I just figured out! We’re Christmas!”

“…okay?”

- Huxley’s that one guy who hands out candy canes in November.

- Huxley has and will change his sheets and pillow cases to some cheesy Christmas pattern, and Damien has learnt that he cannot intervene in this. It’s simply something Huxley will do every year.

- Huxley’s a sucker for a kiss under the mistletoe. Damien thinks it’s cheesy but also has hearts in his eyes whenever Huxley comes out of their room with one of those mistletoe headband things.

- Huxley is so bad at wrapping gifts. Genuinely. There’s no lighter way to say it. You can see the gift from a mile away.

- He hand makes Christmas cards with coloured pencils. It’s little stick figures of all his friends, but he and the rest of them cherish his drawings. Freelancer calls them their ‘priceless assortment of art’ when they stick them all to their fridge.