#he's just absolute gender goals

[marikmizuki]

[littleshopofhorrors-confessions]

My cosplay/Halloween costume of Seymour was the first and only so far male clothing I've owned and I'm pretty sure my mom got rid of it for that reason considering that I couldn't find it anywhere

For that and other reasons I get viscerally embarrassed about the fact that I used to have him as a transition goal to the point that it affects my viewing experience/experience while writing for him, and the fact that I relate to him a lot doesn't help

Y'all are right Orin makes way more sense for a... gender envy blorbo? There should be a term like blorbo for a character you get gender envy towards. I propose 'dently' as like a riff on 'skrunkly.' Anyway

---

[neverendingford]

.

[kittenintheden]

When I Think About You

surprise jorkin it PWP fic drop lol. enjoy.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion/Reader (You) Word Count: 1550 Content: 18+, jealousy, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation (sort of?), pillow humping, gender-neutral Tav/Reader

AO3 Link

You went to bed early tonight.

Well, earlier than you typically do. Not that Astarion has been paying you much attention. Hardly any, really. You’re just easy to miss.

Notice. You’re easy to notice. Because you’re so obvious.

Obviously annoying, obviously infuriating, obviously determined, and obviously infatuated with him. True, that had been his goal, but hells, you could blush a little less at his come-ons. Even if it does look cute on you.

Not that he thinks you’re cute. Not really.

The others are packing up their gear and turning in for the night. Astarion will take first watch like he typically does, have a quick trance, and get up in the early morning hours for a hunt. Easy. Routine.

So what if he’s falling into a routine with these people. It makes things simpler.

He should check on you. Just to make sure you’re not ill. For his health more than yours. These days, a headache could mean a rapid onset of calamari face. He’s doing everyone a favor, honestly.

When he approaches your tent, his steps slow to a stop as his ears pick up noise from inside your tent. You aren’t asleep.

And by the sound of it – and it’s a sound Astarion knows well – you aren’t alone.

He huffs an irritated breath through his nose. Gods damn it. He really thought he had you in the bag. There’s a shard of something sharp lodged beneath his rib. Annoyance, probably. Disappointment that he’s back to square one. Bitterness that he lost another competition, even when he’s doing what he does best.

Astarion turns to walk away. Takes three steps. Stops. Turns his head back toward the sound.

Who is it?

Who are you with?

He has his suspicions, but might as well take a quick peek to verify. His steps as he approaches are catlike. Not that you’d notice anyway, preoccupied as you are. He won’t look much. Only enough to see who stole his prize.

His mark. Who stole his mark.

Astarion pauses at the far side of your closed tent flap and finds a gap in the cloth. He leans in, eyes keen in the dark, and his mouth goes dry when he sees your hips grinding against someone, the length of your body pressed tight to theirs while you move over them. A blanket covers you both, but it doesn’t hide the passion of your movement.

He jerks his head away, a ball of tension aching in his gut. Ridiculous. He should go kill something. He walks toward the woods.

And stops with a sigh.

Astarion hates himself for it, this burning curiosity to know exactly who you’re riding so enthusiastically. Steeling himself, he creeps back and peeks once more through the split in the fabric.

You’re sitting up, now, showing him the long line of your spine in the center of your bare back as your hips continue to work. Every puff of breath through your lips is desperate, occasionally lilting up in a breathless moan.

Astarion worries his lip between his teeth. The muscles beneath your skin ripple, your blood thrumming so close and smelling so much of you, sweetened with the scent of arousal. If you’d just lean a little one way or the other, he could see who’s working you so… so…

There’s a flash of heat in his core followed by a sparking current of electricity, setting everything alight. He’d been doing his best to ignore the steady swell of his cock, but ignoring it is no longer an option as he goes hard as stone, the length of him straining toward his hip bone. Subconsciously, he cants his hips into the empty air and finds absolutely no relief. He has to swallow back a soft moan of his own.

The rolling globes of your arse are shaped perfectly beneath your thin wool blanket. Sharp, rocking thrusts against your playmate, against whichever lucky wretch currently feels the sticky heat of you while he watches.

Astarion lets his hand drift to the front of his breeches and sucks his breath in through his teeth when his palm grazes firmly over the covered head of his cock.

 You run a hand up your side and feel your own chest, maintaining your rhythm as you whimper.

Astarion’s fingers move to loosen his laces, lips parted as he begins to softly pant.

Your hand moves back down and you’re… yes, you’re putting your fingers between your legs, and you throw your head back with a gasp.

His fingers dip below his waistband and he curls in on himself with a huff as he takes himself in hand and begins to pump. Once, twice… ah, gods, that’s nice.

Though being under you would be even nicer.

Lucky sod. Who is it?

The blanket slips down over the curve of your arse, falling to one side and his breath catches as he realizes he’s about to get his answer.

Fabric falls aside and your incredible arse is grinding back and forth. You’re riding yourself to absolute delirium with…

A spare bedroll.

Astarion’s hand stutters to a stop and he doesn’t even breathe as realization hits him. You weren’t with someone else at all. The whole time, you’ve been furiously fucking yourself, grinding needily against your bedding for relief.

And somehow, some way, that makes him even harder. He mouths “oh, fuck” and goes back to stroking himself with renewed vigor. 

You’re desperately aroused, no longer trying to quiet your whimpers as you work your hips in circles against the bedroll while you rub yourself at the same time, your shoulders flushed with need. Your body undulates in wave after wave and Astarion feels quite certain that if he were inside you right now, he’d have come already. He puts his free hand over his mouth, pressing his palm to his lips to keep quiet.

You make a frustrated noise and swing your leg off the bedroll, and for a brief alarming moment, Astarion thinks you’re about to give up, and there’s no way he could let that stand. For either of you.

But then you shove the bedroll away with a huff and flop onto your back without opening your eyes, which is good news for Astarion, since you’d almost certainly see the silhouette of him outside your tent if you were paying attention. Instead, you spread your legs wide and give him a glorious view as one hand returns to its place between your legs and is quickly joined by the other.

Astarion shudders out a breath, the sound thankfully masked by your own rapid pants as you stroke yourself with one hand and trace around your entrance with the other. When you push two fingers inside and begin to pump in and out, Astarion’s knees threaten to give out as he picks up his pace. The tide of pleasure in his core rises and threatens to crest.

Gods, gods, he isn’t even fucking you and you’re still going to make him come before you do.

Your pretty little moans are too much. Your furrowed brow, your flushed cheeks, the way your thighs twitch and your belly shivers with the pleasure you’re lavishing on yourself. What a beauty you are, what a treat, what a-

“-arion,” you whisper, so quietly that he nearly misses it.

“Hah,” he breathes, his pleasure shuddering right on the edge of its peak. His mind must’ve filled that in. There’s no way you said what he thought you said.

He presses his face to the split in the fabric and leans against the tentpole, jerking himself firmly as he watches you arch your back up off the ground, lifting your hips into the air again, again, again, until your hands slow.

“Oh, Astarion,” you whisper just before you slam back down to earth and groan out your release, your slick making your skin shine in the low light.

“Sh-”

Astarion slams his hand over his mouth and ducks to the side, sinking silently to the ground around the corner of your tent just before he creams himself, a pulse of spend striping the ground beneath him, followed by another, and another. His head hangs heavily before him as he catches his breath and dazedly tries to piece together what the fuck just happened.

He sits back, chest heaving and ears ringing.

Then whips his head to the side when he hears you stir inside the tent and tentatively say, “... Hello? Is someone there?”

Astarion holds his breath, which does not help with his current state of floaty lightheadedness.

Then you say, “... Astarion?”

And the sound of his name on your lips sends another ripple of pleasure through him as his cock pulses and drips one last time for good measure.

It takes a minute, but you eventually convince yourself you were hearing things and settle down to sleep, presumably in a more relaxed state than when you first retired. Astarion waits until your breathing slows before he sneaks away, silently tucking himself back into his clothes.

He holds his breath the entire time.

On the other side of camp inside the safety of his own tent, he releases it in a rush, running his unused hand through his curls as realization finally catches up to him.

“Oh, no,” he whispers.

[noira-l]

𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: You were a prodigy, destined for greatness, until one mistake cost you everything- your powers, your legacy, and your father’s pride. Now, powerless and adrift, you wait for your father's decision on your fate, unsure if you’ll face exile, servitude, or something worse. A shadow of who you once were, you push everyone away, drowning in the weight of your own failure. Then there’s Gojo Satoru. Your rival, your tormentor, and the last person you expect to care about your fall. But instead of mockery, his gaze carries something else - something you can’t bring yourself to believe.

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 — teen!gojo satoru x f!reader

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 — heavy angst

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 — mdni, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, prodigy!reader, reader is from clan, rivals with benefits, mention of sexual intercourse, hate sex, depiction of complicated relationship, loss of technique, hurt, mourning (pain, grief, regret), depression, self-doubt, changing body, depiction of loneliness, reader pushes everyone away, jjk clans are shit, family abuse, long term manipulation, smoking, drowning, failed attempt of self-destruction (gojo saves reader), reader goes no contact, reader becomes maiko/geiko later on.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 11 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — this is the longest list of warnings I have ever written, congrats to me (kidding). I don't know if anyone will like it. I know it's dark, very unhealthy and absolutely depressing. It's not good, and I don't recommend anyone to act in the way depicted in this fic. It is possible that I will remove it in the future. If you are struggling with such issues, I would highly encourage you to talk to someone you trust about it. However, I want to thank everyone who chooses to read this.

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

It really wasn't difficult to avoid.

You could've waited literally two seconds.

You could've let the assistant check the area as he should after the mission.

You could've not searched the area yourself.

You could've notified the assistant that you had found a cursed object, in the shrine debris.

You could've waited for the assistant to come up to check with you.

You could've not approached the cursed object.

You could've not picked it up. You could've been smarter.

Maybe if you were - you would still have your powers.

Your technique had been everything they claimed it to be. Rare, devastating, invaluable. It wasn’t just a skill - it was a mark of distinction, the proof of your place in a centuries-old legacy. The elders whispered of its rarity, marveling at the precision and control with which you teach yourself to wielded it.

They called you a prodigy, the one destined to elevate the clan to greater heights.

The weight of those expectations had always been crushing, but you bore it with a silent, unyielding resolve. You had to. You had no choice.

But there was another side to this. You wanted to bore it. You wanted to shush all the gossip, all the rumours that might suggest that you can't do something. Besides you found yourself enjoying this kind of powers

The whispers about your gender - about how being a woman might complicate your ability to lead, to fulfill the role they expected of you - only hardened your resolve.

You would prove them wrong, all of them, you told yourself.

But you also wanted your father's approval.

Your father was the only thing close to you. Your mother died in childbirth or left with a lover, you never knew which version was the truth. As a child, you never thought about it, the truth is, everyone around you only mentioned your father, how you should be his pride, his tribute and how you should do everything to make him feel content about you.

This propaganda worked.

And this mindset became an integral part of you.

His approval wasn’t just your goal - it was your oxygen, your sustenance. His rare moments of pride were your reward, and his disappointment - your greatest fear.

You could hear his voice in your mind, the way it would brighten ever so slightly when you succeeded "Good. This is good. Keep this up." those words had kept you going through grueling hours of training, through sleepless nights spent honing your skills to perfection. The bruises, the pain, the exhaustion - they were nothing compared to the glow of his approval, the fleeting light that told you you were enough, if only for a moment.

But his eyes also dulled with such terrifying speed when you stumbled, even slightly. A poorly executed maneuver, a delay in judgment during a sparring session, a lapse in control, all of it was met with silence, with the cold weight of his disappointment pressing down on you like a vice. It was in those moments that you became acutely aware of your imperfection, of how fragile his pride in you truly was.

This however had shaped you into a perfectionist, a creature of cold calculation.

Training became part of your life, your identity. You lived for the applause of the elders, for the murmured praise of the clan, but above all, for the fleeting flicker of pride in your father’s eyes.

He had once told you, long ago, when you were too young to fully understand his words, that you were his gift "Special, rare." he had said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it since "A gift I received at your birth."

You had clung to those words, replaying them in your mind whenever the pressure became unbearable. They were your anchor, your proof that you mattered, that you were loved - not as a daughter, perhaps, but as something far more valuable, something exceptional.

But in a perspective - you weren't the only exceptional thing in this world.

Even before you understood what rivalry meant, you had been told, over and over, how your birth ranked second in significance.

The second most talked thing.

The first? Him.

You had grown up under the long shadow of a name: Gojo Satoru.

A boy born with unparalleled power, eyes as vivid as the summer sky, whos very existence shaked the foundations of the jujutsu world. While your family whispered of your technique with cautious pride, his family declared him the strongest before he could even speak.

Comparison was inevitable. You were prodigies, both of you, but where your brilliance was honed through discipline, his was uncontainable, raw, and overwhelming. You were rare - he was the one.

You still remembered the first time you saw him. You couldn’t have been more than six, dressed in formal robes too heavy for your small frame, the silk scratchy against soft skin. The clan meeting was dull, filled with stiff adults exchanging words that meant nothing to you. But then, in the corner of the room, you felt a presence - bright, piercing, impossible to ignore.

When you turned, his eyes met yours.

Wide, unblinking, and startlingly blue, they stared at you like they could see through your skin, through your bones, through everything that made you, you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile or nod - just stared, like he was trying to decide if you were worth noticing at all.

Even then, something about him annoyed you.

As you grew older, the comparisons became sharper, louder. Clan sparring matches became a regular event, a spectacle for the elders to evaluate their bloodlines. You, Gojo, Kamo, that Zen’in heir, and a handful of others were pitted against one another under the guise of "training." But you all knew the truth. It was a game of dominance, of proving which clan held the strongest future.

Gojo made it a point to be insufferable.

"Chicken fights." he had once sneered, grinning as he sat perched on a rock like a king addressing his subjects. You had just beaten one of the Zen’in cousins, a victory that had left your father smiling faintly in the audience. But Gojo’s voice cut through the cheers "That’s all this is. You flap your wings, you strut around, but it doesn’t matter. None of you will ever beat me."

The others ignored him, too smart - or too scared - to engage. But not you.

"I’d rather be a chicken than a brat with a big mouth." you’d shot back, your voice steady despite the fire burning in your chest.

His grin widened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually take you seriously. But then he laughed - a loud, obnoxious sound that echoed through the sparring grounds "Cute." he said, hopping off his perch and walking past you like you weren’t even worth his time "Let me know when you’re ready to play with the big kids."

Now, years later, the rivalry had followed you into Jujutsu High, where it seemed impossible to escape him. The same classes, the same missions, the same suffocating aura of superiority that surrounded him wherever he went.

He was a little different. Not in the way you’d imagined someone "different" might be - quiet, mysterious, unassuming. No, he was loud, arrogant, and so assured in his strength that it bordered on unbearable.

The fire you’d felt as a child, that relentless desire to outdo him, to prove yourself, had cooled over the years. But it hadn’t gone out. Instead, it had transformed into something sharper, something a little colder - a blade honed not just to cut him down but to carve out your own space in a world that refused to see you as anything more than a shadow cast by his brilliance. It wasn’t just about beating him anymore. It was about standing on equal ground, forcing him - and everyone else - to recognize you as something other than second best.

You tried to take it slow, to ingore him.

Gojo didn’t make it easy.

He had a way of getting under your skin that no one else could. Just a glance from him could set your teeth on edge, that wide, knowing smirk playing on his lips like he was already ten steps ahead of you. He mocked you constantly, his words sharp and teasing, always laced with that infuriating arrogance that only he could pull off.

Every encounter was a contest, every conversation a challenge, every moment spent in his presence a battle for dominance.

You danced around each other endlessly, an intricate, unspoken rhythm that neither of you could break. One moment, he’d set the direction, leading with a cocky ease that seemed unshakable - the next, you’d outpace him, forcing him to catch up, to adjust to your steps.

The dance extended into every aspect of your lives. Missions became opportunities to one-up each other, to prove who was faster, sharper, more capable. Training sessions were wars of endurance, each of you pushing harder, refusing to yield until exhaustion forced a truce. Even on days off, when most people would relax or recover, you found ways to compete - whether it was sparring, aruging or something as mundane as seeing who could stack the most chairs before they toppled over.

His attention was relentless, his focus always sharp and unyielding. He discounted you with every other word, mocking your efforts, analyzing your achievements as if he were the ultimate judge of your worth. His words - arrogant and biting - were no better.

"Trying to catch up to me again? Good luck with that, shortcake."

"Don’t trip over your own shadow while you’re chasing me."

"Nice job today, small fry. Almost makes me feel like you’re worth competing with."

Each message was a spark, igniting the fire that drove you to prove him wrong, to show him - and yourself - that you were more than capable of matching him. To the point of beating him.

Neither of you ever held the upper hand for long - one day his victory, the next yours. The score didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that the fire between you never burned out, keeping you locked in this endless, maddening dance.

And maddening was pace of his hips that were thrusting into you every other day. The old floor, even with a layer of training mat, would creak under his powerful movements.

Both of you decided after some time that your dispute had to be settled by other means, so you challenged each other to a duel where there were no rules and all moves were allowed. It usually ended with the two of you meeting in the old training room after class, to resolve a conflict you were currently having. The winner was the one who first knocked his opponent finally to the ground.

Differently these encounters ended, sometimes he was the unbeatable winner, pounding you into the floor, bending you at every possible angle, whispering sweet nothingess and words of mocking encouragement to your ear, making tears drip down your flushed cheeks. Sometimes it was you who won, pinning him to the floor, bouncing off his hips in a frenzy, one in which you commented on how loud he was, how crying and pathetic he looked - words that were meant to degrade him, were just making his glimmering eyes roll back. Eyebrows raised and stupid handsome face twisted in a sigh so beautful that you would end up with the lost of insults after a while.

He won last week. Your asscheeks painfully pounded into the mat material, as your hands clasped tightly on his shoulders, creating scars that were meant to affect him, but only seemed to make him whine even more. Laughing breathlessly at your attempts to hurt him, as if he wasn't the one leaving rudely visible red marks on your neck that poke through uniform.

He'll probably laugh about winning his final match, too.

Because there will never be any again.

Everyone tried everything to undo the effects of what had happened - to remove the curse. When this proved impossible by the specifications of the object you touched, which could be called a trap, they at least tried to restore the flow of your cursed energy. This, too, proved to be a failure.

You’d told yourself, at first, that it must be temporary. That the connection to your technique would return, that this was just a setback. It had to be. Something so integral to your being couldn’t just vanish - it was part of you, wasn’t it?

That was you, right?

But each attempt proved fruitless. Every meditation session, every exercise, every attempt to summon even the faintest flicker of cursed energy - it all ended the same way: in silence, in emptiness.

The denial fueled your determination, pushing you into training sessions that bordered on self-destruction. You traded your technique for raw physicality, throwing punches at the training dummy until your fists bled, the skin splitting open as you struck again and again. And again. Sweat soaked through your clothes, mingling with tears you refused to acknowledge as they streamed down your face.

You screamed, raw and guttural, into the empty training field, but the sound brought no release, only exhaustion. You never shouted like that, never cried like when you fell on the ground and realised it was all pointless.

One conclusion came from your attempts.

You had been crippled.

"Maybe if I had a son, he wouldn't have made such a foolish mistake." the words clung to you, searing through the phone’s receiver like acid. Your father’s voice, sharp and cold, cut through the fragile thread of composure you had been holding onto. The regret, the disappointment, and - worst of all - the indifference. He didn’t even sound angry, just tired. Tired of you.

Your throat burned.

"Father, please..." but you didn’t know what you were asking for -mercy, understanding, or perhaps the impossible: forgiveness.

"You've squandered everything." his voice was steady, unaffected "Centuries of legacy, your birthright, your technique - gone. Do you understand the magnitude of what you’ve done?"

Do you? You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak. Your thoughts swirled into a vortex of self-loathing, replaying the moment over and over again.

"We'll talk later when I decide what to do with you." and just like that he hung up.

That was it. No comfort. No acknowledgment of the years you’d given, the sacrifices you’d made, or the countless moments you’d bled and bruised yourself into perfection. The line had gone dead with a finality that echoed through your chest like a hammer strike. His voice - so cold, so detached - ingered in your mind, cutting deeper than any curse could.

You set the phone down on the desk, your hand trembling slightly as you withdrew from it, as though it might burn you if you held on any longer. The chair creaked faintly beneath you as you sat motionless, staring at the wall opposite you.

You wanted to apologise to him, to beg his forgiveness for your mistake, for your stupidity, you wanted to cry on his shoulder, to apologise - again - that you had let him down. But he just wasn't interested. He was no longer interested in your perspective.

You, simply didn't interest him.

That room was dim, the shadows thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint glow of a single overhead light. It wasn’t enough to fully illuminate the faces of the elders who stood before you, their disapproval palpable, their voices sharp and cutting as they dissected your situation. Each word they spoke dug into your chest, stripping away what little pride you had left.

You were stripped off the title of a prodigy.

They called you a dissapointment now.

You became an example.

A cautionary tale.

The damage has already been done.

People tried to reach you. Geto, Shoko, Nanami - even Yaga made an effort to draw you out of your spiral. But their words felt hollow, meaningless. What could they possibly say that would fix what had been broken? They didn’t understand. How could they? They still had their power, their purpose, their place in this world. You didn’t.

He was on mission overseas, so maybe the information about your state didn't quite reach him yet. Not that you cared if he made contact.

He would probably just laugh at you anyway.

Of all these people Geto, had tried the hardest, his presence quiet but persistent. He tried to be there for you. But there was no you inside.

He’d sat beside one day, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. His touch, once an unremarkable soft gesture, now felt heavy - too heavy. You realized then just how much strength he had, how much stronger he’d become while you had only weakened. His grip, once equal to yours, now dwarfed it.

"You’re still here." he’d said softly, his voice careful, measured "That matters the most."

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. The weight of his words pressed against your chest, but they couldn’t penetrate the hollow void inside you. Instead, you’d turned away, muttering some excuse to just leave.

You didn’t want his pity. You didn’t want anyone’s.

You didn't believe that anything else mattered to anyone except your gift. Not after everything that happends.

So you let yourself sink in that conviction.

Your own reflection became that a stranger. Each glance in the mirror revealed another part of yourself fading away. Your muscles, once taut and defined from years of rigorous training, softened, weakened. Your face, once bright with determination and pride, dulled, the light in your eyes all but extinguished. Even your posture changed, slouching under the weight of your defeat.

You avoided mirrors after that. It was easier not to look at yourself, not to see the person you’d become.

The thought of him haunted you. He was the only person who had not yet spoken about your situation. You could almost hear the laughter that would spill from his lips when he found out.

He’d won, hadn’t he? He will be happy that you lost.

Not through a sparring match or a test of strength, but through your own stupidity. He wouldn’t even need to lift a finger - your downfall was self-inflicted. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

He’d probably make a joke of it, something biting and sharp, something that would leave you hollowed out even further. The idea of facing him, of hearing his voice, made your stomach twist - but you kinda wanted him to say somthing to you.

Although you were sure what his reaction would be.

By early autumn you became a ghost of the person you’d once been, a shell going through the motions. The world felt distant, muted, as though you were walking through a haze. The wind carried the crisp scent of leaves, the air beacme sharp enough to sting your lungs as you exhaled. Your student status was taken away by higher-ups, they decided that sending you on a mission was pointless. Just like you. The peak of your skill now was ability to see a curse, not to fight one.

You could do whatever you wanted, so you went to all sorts of faraway places.

You’d grown used to the isolation. It was easier not to see anyone, not to hear the pity in their voices or feel their lingering stares. Geto had tried, tried and tried. Staying with you whenever he could, but even his presence, as steady and grounding as it was, felt too heavy. He tried talking to you, but your mind seemed closed to his willingness to help and his affectionate tone. You weren't a person who knew how to accept help from others, no one ever taught you that. Even if you appreciated it, you didn't know how to show it. And the truth was - you couldn’t bear the weight of his concern, couldn’t summon the energy to reassure anyone that you were fine.

Because you weren’t fine. You were no longer yourself.

That was the only thing that had mattered.

You wanted to disappear into the nothingness that seemed to have taken root inside you. You wanted to stop existing in a world where you no longer had a place, where the purpose that had defined you all your life was gone.

But instead, you thought. And thought. Alone, in the dark, your mind was a relentless spiral, turning over every moment, every decision that had brought you to this point.

You never really faced your fears before, you realized.

This and many other thoughts stirred in your head like a swirl, twisting your perception of reality.

You were walking through the school gates, the crisp golden leaves crunching under your boots. The sun hung low in the sky, its light casting long shadows across the pavement.

You really didn’t expect to see him.

He was back.

Snow-white hair catching the sunlight, posture impossibly relaxed, as if the weight of the world didn’t touch him. He walked with that characteristic ease, the kind that could embarrass a hundred men without effort. His phone was pressed to his ear, and you could hear his laughter even from a distance - light, careless, the kind of laugh that had always annoyed you.

For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t notice you. Of course - why would he? You didn’t even have the faintest trace of cursed energy anymore. You were just a random person, a shadow of who you’d once been, just a presence walking aimlessly on a pleasant autumn afternoon.

You kept your hands buried in your pockets, eyes fixed on the path ahead, determined to pass him without incident. Without one stupid comment. Without one look into that judging eyes.

You realized you weren't ready to face him. A whole range of emotions came up in you: anger, anticipation, sadness, wanting, resignation, longing, but most of all - shame.

But then his gaze fell on you.

You could feel it before you even looked up, the weight of his attention, sharp and unmissable. His eyes flicked over you once, casual and dismissive, but then he froze. Head snapped back in your direction, and the expression on his face shifted so quickly it almost startled you. Satisfaction melted into pure, unfiltered shock.

You didn’t stop.

You didn’t have the strength to deal with him, with his taunts, his smirks, his cutting words, his blue eyes. Not now. Not ever. You moved past him without a word, steps steady and deliberate, though your heart pounded in your chest so much.

You will let him enjoy his win in your silence.

"Oi!" his voice cut through the air, sharp, insistent "Stop you - Wait!"

You didn’t turn around. In fact you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you reached into pocket, pulling out the battered pack of cigarettes Shoko had handed you weeks ago. You lit one with a shaky hand, the ember flaring briefly before the smoke curled into the air. You inhaled deeply, the bitter taste grounding you as you kept walking.

Gojo stood frozen, watching you disappear down the path. He tried calling after you couple of times, louder each time. But he didn't run after you. Six Eyes scanned your silhouette with dangerous precision, noticing every small detail that had changed. The slump in your shoulders, the sharpness of your cheekbones, the dullness in your eyes. The lack of a slightest trace of cursed energy.

What the hell happend to you?

He hadn’t seen you in weeks, but the person walking away from him now was unrecognizable.

You weren’t just tired. You weren't yourself.

You came back hours later to pack your belongings.

The weight of tomorrow hung heavy in your chest, suffocating and inescapable. Your father’s decision loomed over you, its implications gnawing at your already fragile sense of self.

You decided to take a walk, one last time over the terrain you knew and loved so well.

You didn’t want to think about what he might have planned for you. You didn’t want to imagine the hollow life that awaited you, stripped of your identity and power. But the thoughts were relentless, swirling in your mind as you walked, each step taking you farther from the dormitory and deeper into the forest.

Would he make you a servant? Marry you off to someone important, someone who could salvage what little value you had left? Would he exile you to the far corners of the clan, where you would live out your days in quiet obscurity?

The possibilities churned in your mind, each one heavier than the last.

For weeks, you’d been coming here, searching for something in that reflection. Searching for the person you used to be, the prodigy who had stood tall and proud, who had been her father’s pride and her clan’s future. But all you found was a ghost, a shadow of what you once were.

The night was quiet, perfect for the last one here, the air heavy with the crisp scent of fallen leaves and damp earth. A pale moon hung in the sky, its light casting silvery ripples over the world, softening the edges of reality.

You crouched down, as you approached the edge of the water. Your hands brushing against the damp grass, and stared into the lake’s surface. For a moment, the sight of your reflection startled you, as it always did now.

You closed your eyes, for a brief moment, the quiet of the forest enveloping you. A faint rustle of leaves, the distant call of nightlife and the soft lapping of water against the shore - it was all so achingly peaceful. And yet, it offered no comfort.

The lake held no answers, no revelations. Just the same distorted reflection, the same fractured image of yourself.

The reflection there was faint, distorted, but still recognizable. You could make out the curve of your jaw, the hollowness of your cheeks, the dim light in your eyes that once burned so brightly. You stared at yourself, unblinking, searching for the person you had been.

But you were gone.

...

What is the point of all this?

The question came unbidden, as it had so many times before. It's not like you're usefull to anyone. Your whole life has been based on being a sorcerer, the next clan head also, but not being just a human. You don't know how to live a normal life - you don't know if you even want to live one.

You thought about the weight of your father’s expectations, the years you had spent chasing his approval. You thought about the countless hours of training, the bruises, the exhaustion, the fleeting moments of pride that had kept you going. And you thought about the emptiness you felt now, the void left behind by the loss of your technique.

It's all been bringing you to one conclusion for some time: you are nothing without your technique.

This is a painful truth that you had to accept some time ago.

You had the feeling that the water was looking at you - offering a hideout.

You moved, taking one hesitant step forward.

It won't be that bad, right? Everything is better than facing the consequences of your own stupidity.

Another step joined the previous one, your feet touching the cold surface. The smell of wet grass and vegetation wafted through the air.

You’d left everything behind on the shore. Your jacket, hoodie, and shoes - they lay in a silent heap, abandoned like everything else in your life. You won't need them anymore.

The water was cold. Icy. It cut through your skin like shards of glass, wrapping around you with an unforgiving grip as you plunged deeper and deeper into the darkness. The shock of it made your muscles tighten, but you didn’t fight it - not at first. You let the weight of the water pull you down, let the emptiness consume you.

Everything was dark, impossibly so, swallowing everything in its depths. You couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but the cold pressure against your skin and the burning in your chest as your lungs screamed for air. You let yourself sink further, closing your eyes against the suffocating blackness.

And yet, your mind wouldn’t still.

Thoughts came rushing in, unbidden, like a flood breaking through a dam. Every memory, every failure, every moment of doubt and despair surged to the forefront. The weight of it all pressed down on you, heavier than the water, dragging you deeper into the abyss.

You had thought this might be the solution. The way out. An escape from the suffocating spiral of your existence. But as the air in your lungs ran out and your body began to betray you, survival instinct kicking in, you realized there was no escape. Not from the memories, not from the pain, not from yourself.

Your limbs flailed, your arms slicing through the water as you tried to fight against the primal urge to breathe. Your body betrayed you, forcing you to the surface even as your mind screamed to let go, to give in.

Just a little bit.

But it was too late. The water felt thick, heavy, an impossible barrier keeping you from the surface. Your lungs heaved, desperate for air, but all they found was water. Cold, bitter, unrelenting water that filled your chest and drowned your last desperate gasp for life.

The memories came in flashes, fragments of a life that now seemed so far away. The pride in your father’s eyes the first time you mastered your technique. The sound ofm Geto’s gentle laugh on a quiet afternoon. Shoko’s quiet. The way Gojo’s voice had always irritated you, his smirk a constant thorn in your side.

They all felt so distant now, like they belonged to someone else. Someone who wasn’t a failure. Someone who still mattered.

And then there was the weight of the other memories - the shame, the disappointment, the voices of the elders as they condemned you. The coldness in your father’s tone when he told you he’d decide what to do with you. The emptiness that had consumed you in the weeks since.

You felt your body shutting down, your vision darkening as the water enveloped you. Your limbs grew heavy, your mind hazy. The struggle became a distant thing, like a flickering light fading out.

And yet, in those final moments, as the water pulled you under completely, one thought rose above all the others, sharp and unrelenting:

You are a failure.

Gasp.

The world returned to you in gasps and violent coughs, water pouring from your lungs as your chest heaved painfully. Your body felt like it had been ripped apart, the freezing cold of the lake still clinging to your skin, but the sharp sensation of something - someone - holding you brought clarity in a rush.

You blinked against the blurriness in your vision, barely able to make out the figure above you. His white hair was plastered to his forehead, the sharp strands dulled and dripping, and his electric blue eyes were wide, filled with a mix of fury, fear, and something raw. His hands trembled as they held you, but his grip was firm, refusing to let go.

Him.

You coughed again, turning your head as water spilled out of your mouth, your chest burning with each labored breath. Reality slammed into you like a punch: you were on the shore, cold earth pressing against your back, and he was the reason you were still here.

"No." you croaked, the word scraping against your throat like sandpaper. Panic surged through you, body reacting before mind could catch up. You twisted violently, shoving against him with what little strength you had left, trying to escape the strong grasp. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be saved.

He didn’t let go.

"Stop." he growled, his voice low and strained. It wasn’t the teasing, mocking tone you were used to. This was different. Commanding, almost desperate.

"Let go of me!" you shouted, your voice cracking as you thrashed against him, the fight in you born not of strength but of pure, unrelenting despair "Let me go, Gojo!"

"No." his grip tightened, his hands locking around your wrists as you tried to claw at him. You jerked and struggled, but it was no use. He was stronger, and even without your powers, you were nothing compared to him. The realization hit you like a dagger to the chest, sharp and agonizing. You couldn’t even free yourself. You couldn’t do anything.

"Stop it" he snapped, voice cutting through the chaos as he pinned your wrists to the ground, forcing you still. His weight loomed over you, his breath ragged and uneven as he glared down at you, his eyes burning with an intensity you couldn’t meet.

You froze, your body trembling beneath him, the fight draining out of you as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. The only sounds were the quiet lapping of the lake’s waves and the harsh breaths between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. His chest rose and fell rapidly, droplets of water sliding down his face, hair wet. His grip on your wrists loosened slightly, though he didn’t let go.

"What are you doing? What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice rough and low, each word laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Anger? Fear? Pain?

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze "You shouldn’t have stopped me."

His grip tightened again, his fingers trembling as they pressed against your skin "Stop you -" he cut himself off, his jaw clenching tightly as he took a shuddering breath "You’re such an idiot."

You wanted to scream at him, to shove him away, to make him understand that there was nothing left of you worth saving. To let you go and withered. But the words caught in your throat, tangled with the grief, anger and despair that had been building inside you for so long.

"What are you doing here? You've been following me?" your voice sharp despite the hoarseness from the water you’d just coughed up. You glared at him, still pinned beneath his weight, wrists trapped in his hands.

Gojo’s expression flickered between irritation and something you couldn’t quite place - concern? No, that wasn’t possible. He raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with his usual brand of mockery "No. Better -what were you doing here?"

You turned your face away, refusing to answer. The moonlight glinted off the water, its calm surface a contrast to the chaos swirling inside you. You could feel his eyes boring into you, Six Eyes missing nothing.

It didn’t take long for him to piece it together.

His grip on your wrists tightened, just slightly "You should have known better." he said, his tone shifting, lower now, more serious "With all that negative energy bottled up, you could’ve attracted a curse."

You snorted bitterly, the sound harsh and raw "As if I’m not already a curse."

His lips turned into a thin line, glimmering eyes narrowing as he leaned closer "Don’t say stupid things." what you said wasn't stupid, he was stupid for coming here and saving you.

"You are stupid for saving me." the words burst out of you, cracking, unrestrained.

The admission hung in the air, raw and cutting, and you hated how much it revealed. You hated how much he could see now. You felt as if he had caught you on something. Not only at this desperate attempt to avoid your fate, but also at being vulnerable. His face was so close now that you could see every drop of water clinging to his white long lashes, you could also feel the intensity radiating from him like a physical force.

"I told you not to say stupid stuff." he said, his voice low and biting, each word hitting like a hammer "You’re dumb enough as it is."

You wanted him to leave you alone.

You growled in frustration, your movements wild and erratic as you struggled against his grip, you tried to kick him, but to no avail "Let go of me, you asshole!"

"No." his response was immediate, tone resolute.

Can he listen to you for once?

"Fuck you!" you hissed.

"You already did!" he barked, his voice cracking through the tension like lightning.

You froze, the retort you’d been about to throw back dying on your tongue. That was an answer you didn't expected. It made you pause. Well...

Gojo sighed, a sound of exasperation tinged with something softer, something almost like… care "You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?" he muttered "But I’d rather deal with that than lose you."

What?

No, you must have overheard, he would never say such a thing to you.

You would almost believe those softly sparkling eyes, that looked at you in a way that it felt anxious. Well, almost, because you knew exactly who was saying those words to you. You scolded yourself for this in your head.

"Why the hell are you here?" you demanded an answer on dodged question, voice shaking with both anger and something dangerously close to despair "Did you save me because you were afraid you’d lose your favorite object of derision? To mock me? To laugh at how pathetic I’ve become?"

His eyes widened briefly, the accusation catching him off guard, before narrowing again in frustration "Do you seriously think I’d waste my time saving your sorry ass just to mock you?" he shots back "God, you’re so full of yourself sometimes."

"Then why?" you spat "Why did you saved me?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze shifting to the side, avoiding yours entirely. You could see the tension in his jaw. But he still said nothing. As the answer was too much for him to bear. He was about to speak, but he noticed the way you shivered violently, the cold catching you again. The soaked fabric of your clothes still clung to you, and the sharp autumn air made it impossible to stop trembling. Gojo changed his mind.

"I’ll let you go now." his voice lower, less biting "Get dressed - but no stupid actions."

His grip on you eased, and he moved back just enough to give you space, though not far enough to let you out of his reach. He stayed seated on the damp ground, watching your every move with an intensity that made your skin crawl. He didn’t trust you. Not yet.

You listened, you didn't have a choice now.

You crawled toward the pile of clothes, hands shaking so badly that it was difficult to grab anything properly. You stripped off your soaked shirt and pulled on your hoodie in a hurry, not caring whether he saw or not. You were too cold to care about modesty, too angry to care about anything else.

He also got dressed, buttoning up his sweats and putting on his jacket. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until his voice broke through.

"Why do you act like a moron?" his words were sharp, almost accusing, but there was something beneath them - a tremor of genuine frustration. Not a trace of his previous gentleness.

You didn’t answer, keeping your focus on zipping up your jacket, your movements jerky and uneven.

He grabbed your arm suddenly, firm but not painful "Oi, answer me!" his voice rose, the intensity of it cutting through the cold air.

You snapped your head up, your eyes blazing as you glared at him "The hell do you want?"

All you wanted now was to escape to a warm room and cry.

His grip on your arm tightened for a moment before loosening slightly, but still there, his expression flickering from serious to worried to confused "Why... why did you want- " he struggled for the words, frowning "Why did you want to end it all? It’s stupid, this logic is idiotic even for you."

You growled.

"What’s dumb is that you don’t understand it." you shot back, your voice sharp, almost venomous. The anger bubbling inside you was the only thing keeping the cold at bay. You wanted to get up, but his grip kept you down.

"The stupid thing is what you’re doing." he countered, his voice rising again "Do you think your death will change anything?"

That was enough for you.

"Great!" you shouted, pulling your arm free of his grip and stepping back, your chest heaving as emotions boiled over "If I’m so fucking worthless, then let me die, for fuck’s sake!"

Shock.

Pure, undeniable shock.

Those vivid blue eyes of his, so infuriatingly piercing, widened. Eyebrows raised, lips parted slightly, as if he were about to speak, but no words came out. It's as if he doesn't believe you just said that. As if he just realised the seriousness of the situation. You saw his chest start to rise faster, not sure if from the cold…. or from panic.

"I don’t want you to -" he started, his voice breaking slightly, even softer than before.

But you crossed your limits.

"You won, okay!?" you cut him off, voice sharp, loud and trembling. The words spilled out of you like a flood, raw, unrestrained "You can rub my face in your victory now! I don’t care anymore! Torment me, mock me, laugh at me - now’s your time!"

His eyes narrowed, confusion clear as his brow furrowed "What?"

"Do it! Now’s the time where you can laugh all you want, insult me all you want - because now, at least, you have a reason!"

"I- " he tried to speak, but you wouldn’t let him.

"Tell me what a failure I am!" you suddenly cried "Tell me how I mean nothing, how all my efforts have gone to waste, how I’m worthless! Because now, at least, I’ll admit you’re right!"

"Stop-" he started, but his words fell flat against the force of your pain.

"Tell me how all your life you knew you were better!" you shouted, hands shaking as you gripped the sleeves of your jakcet "Tell me I’m an idiot, that I’ve always been dumb! Laugh in my face, mock me, just finish me! Say all the things you’ve been thinking, all the things you’ve wanted to say - just say it!"

Your voice broke completely, the words tumbling into a sob "You can finish me..." you choked "Come on. Just… just do it!"

This was to much, you felt so so much.

He was so disoriented. You could see this by his reaction.

"Because I'd believe you'd laugh than suddenly care what happens to me." you chocked.

Silence.

Tears blurred your vision. You were done pretending to have any pride left. You've had enough of everything. You didn't understand his reaction, his sudden tenderness confused you, everything was so wrong. You just wanted to get back to normal, when you - and everything had it's place.

But no, suddenly the world has turned - you don't have your technique, your father will probably disown you, and your rival and bully is suddenly trying to be nice. You don't want to be here anymore. You don't know how to find yourself in this world and you don't know how to talk about it.

It's humiliating to cry in front of him, you know it, but you don't care. You let it all out, just like the water from before.

He just stared at you, eyes wide, jaw tight. You could barely see through the fact that you sobbing next to him, hiding your face and bringing your legs to your chest.

"No." he whispered.

You blinked at him, raising your head, confused "What?"

"No." he repeated, louder this time, his voice firm but trembling "I’m not going to mock you."

You let out a loud bitter laugh, shaking your head "Of course not. Because you don’t even have to, do you? I’ve already done it for you."

"That’s not-" he cut himself off, shortening the distance between you "You’re wrong."

"About what?" your voice breaking again "About being a failure? About being nothing? Tell me what part of that is wrong?"

"All of it." he confirmed, voice steady now, glowing eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart clenched "Every single word. You’re not nothing. You’re not a failure. And I swear to God, if you say that again, I’m going to-"

"To what?" you challenged "Save me again? Drag me out of the lake and lecture me about how I should see the bright side of losing everything? Spare me the pity, Gojo. I don’t need it."

"It’s not pity!" his voice ringing loud, showing that emotions were also building up inside him. Unexpectedly, two large hands moved to cup your face, forcing you to look at him, to stare at two glowing blue dots "I’m not here because I pity you. I’m here because-" he faltered, voice catching as his breath hitched, his thumbs brushing against your cold, damp skin "Because I care."

The silence that followed was deafening. You froze, your face dropping as the weight of confession hit you like a tidal wave. He wonders if you know how much it cost him to tell you this directly. You, you wonder if what he says is a joke.

He... what?

His hands stayed on your face, steady despite the way they trembled slightly "I wanted to talk to you." the voice that came out of him was so quiet, so full of affection, that it was almost nothing like his "I started looking for you as soon as I got back from the mission. I wanted to... I don’t know, do something. Anything."

You burst out laughing bitterly, the sound sharp and raw in the stillness. It felt absurd, impossible. Gojo Satoru, your rival, the person you’d been compared to all your entire life, the one who mocked you, humiliated you endlessly, competed with you relentlessly - suddenly was caring about you?

You don’t believe him - because how could you?

For so many years, he had been the same infuriating presence in your life, treating you with an air of superiority and, at times, outright disdain. His words had cut shar, leaving wounds you’d carried silently for years.

There wasn’t a single thing he hadn’t laughed at. Your hair, he’d compared it to the end of a broomstick. Your smile? He’d once called it a donkey’s grin - or whatever the Japanese equivalent it was, delivered with his trademark smirk that made you want to slap it off his face. Your taste in music? "Cheesy pop thrash" And your clothes? Oh, that was his favorite target "Are you dressing ironically?" he’d asked once, tilting his head with mock curiosity "Or is this a social experiment I missed?" It didn’t stop there. He even mocked the way you walked once, calling it "Too stiff, like you’re auditioning for a role as a wooden puppet"., the way you ate "You attack food like it owes you money." and even the way you carried your books "Why are you holding them like that?" he’d said, mimicking your grip dramatically "You're so weak that you can't hold them properly?"

So yeah, it was laughable.

He may have saved you and you may want to believe in what he says, but you are just not able to.

Can you really blame yourself?

Well, kinda, because you were the one making out with him every other day. You might have believed that he liked your attention, that he might have wanted you - but you wouldn't believe that he wanted to care about you.

You reached up and pulled his hands off your face, your cold fingers brushing against his quite warm ones "Don't give me that. What could you supposedly do?" you asked, voice dripping with disbelief and mockery. The cold seeping back into your body now that his touch was gone

"Anything." he said, his words still tumbling out, almost frantic "Talk, sit with you, I don’t know - something. I- " he stopped, his own frustration bleeding into his voice "I don’t know." his eyes were so pleading.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to stop the tremors as you looked away "Don't bother." voice low, void of fight "Doesn't matter now. My father is picking me up tomorrow."

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

"I have heard too many versions, all from different people, of what my father supposedly planned that - that I don't know..." you paused, the lump in your throat growing unbearable as you forced yourself to say these words.

You wanted to say that you were afraid, that you didn't know what to do, that you felt you had let everyone down, that nothing made sense to you now.

That it was too much.

That you didn't allowed yourself any form of comfort.

"I know one thing, though." you hesitated, the weight of your next words heavy, but you looked up, meeting his gaze with trembling resolve "I’d rather die now, than live my life as a clan failure."

He growled, frustrated, as if nothing is working on his favour. As if he was breaking.

"Who cares what the clan thinks? Who cares about anything they say?" Gojo’s voice rising, desperate and insistent, his words coming faster now, blabbering "They’re a bunch of old fools who don’t know what they’re talking about! You are more than their expectations. You are more than your technique. You are - "

Maybe he wanted to comfort you that way or maybe he wanted you to believe his tale of him 'caring about you'.

But you had already made up your mind.

Gojo knew that you might not believe him in what he was saying now, he knew, that you would be angry with him for all that he has done- you were right - you should be. What he didn't predict, however, was that you would know him well enough to know this one hidden truth about him.

What you say now will leave a mark on him for years. You frowned, voice totaly sure of the words you're saying.

"Don’t preach to me about things you don’t even believe yourself."

You hadn’t spoken since that night by the lake.

Not when you were picked up, your father’s silence mirroring your own as you sat stiffly beside him, staring out the car's window. Not when he informed you of your new path with the cold efficiency of a man making a business transaction.

Your age wasn't very favourable for this, admittedly - you should have started your training as a maiko a long time ago, wanting to become a geiko. However, your father, using his connections, found a place that will accept you for training. He found an okiya in Kanazawa that from now on - will be your temporary home.

You didn’t fight him. You didn’t speak at all. You have done enough.

The years that followed were grueling in their own way, though nothing compared to what you’d endured before.

Training as a maiko demanded a different kind of perfection, a complete transformation of body and mind. The disciplined, precise movements of martial arts you had once mastered - were now replaced by the elegant, deliberate grace of traditional dance. Every step, every turn, every motion had to flow with effortless beauty, concealing the pain and time it took to perfect them.

You hated every second of it.

Your figure changed over time, slimming down in ways you hadn’t anticipated and curving in a few other places. You "got smaller", your once powerful frame softening into something more delicate, more feminine. Your reflection in the mirror became even stranger - a porcelain doll painted and adorned to please others. Gone were the rugged hands that once wielded cursed tools, now they held fans, makeup brushes, creating beauty where you once brought destruction.

The contrast was unbearable.

You missed the fight, the passion, the adrenaline, the raw exhilaration of your old life. Sometimes, as you trained with the fan, your body betrayed your mind, instinctively slipping into the stances meant for a sword. For your lost technique.

Every day felt like a reminder, a performance, not just for others but for yourself, as if pretending long enough might make you forget what you had lost.

But it didn't.

You never completely left your old self behind; the memory of that person remained vivid, etched into your mind. Recalling the past -missions, getaways, trainings, fleeting moments of triumph and connection - became a daily ritual. Nostalgia and grief intertwined, two of many companions that you had learned to live with, their weight both comforting and unbearable.

Despite it all, he kept reaching out to you.

Gojo’s messages came daily at first, long, rambling texts filled with details of his day - missions, strange encounters, little jokes he’d picked up along the way. He sent pictures of things he thought might make you laugh: a badly drawn doodle of you scowling, a ridiculous meme, a cursed object that looked suspiciously like a poorly designed toy. Each message carried a tone of casual insistence, as though he were trying to prove his point - that he cared. Or perhaps he was trying to reshape your relationship, to turn you from the rival he mocked constantly into something else, maybe - a friend.

Eventually, the messages slowed. Whether it was his own frustration, the demands of his life, or something else entirely, you didn’t know. You didn’t care to know. Cutting yourself off from him, from everyone, was the only way you knew how to endure.

At some point, you stopped reading them altogether. The weight of shame pressed down on your chest, suffocating any inclination to respond. You couldn’t face him - or anyone from your past. The person they knew was gone, and what remained of you was too broken, too hollow, to withstand their judgment or pity.

Your thoughts spiraled endlessly, dragging you deeper into a pit of self-doubt. You convinced yourself that no one could possibly care for who you were now - powerless, dull, and unremarkable. What was left of you wasn’t worth saving, and surely, he had to see that too. Eventually, you were certain, he would stop trying. And that thought, as much as it pained you, felt like the only mercy left.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself hovering over his messages, tempted to open them. The thought of catching a glimpse of the snippets of his life - once so intertwined with yours - felt like a small, guilty comfort.

But no, you didn't do it.

Years just passed, and the day of your Kurokami, the ceremonial debut marking your transition to full-fledged geiko, arrived. Your father had spared no effort, inviting everyone of importance - every known clan in the jujutsu world, their representatives gathered on the sprawling estate for a grand celebration steeped in tradition and political maneuvering.

It wasn’t about you. It was never about you.

This was a spectacle, a carefully orchestrated display of your father’s influence and connections. Each guest, each detail, was part of a greater plan to cement alliances and further his ambitions. You were just another piece of that plan, an accessory to his power.

The highlight of the evening was the final dance of a maiko, the moment of transition - a symbol of beauty and accomplishment in its purest form. But it wasn’t your dance. It wasn’t you, his daughter, he didn't even introduce you.

No, you were just a dancer now.

You entered the stage in silence, your heart slowing as the soft glow of the spotlight bathed you in its warmth. The muted chatter of the crowd faded into an expectant hush, the weight of hundreds of gazes pressing down on you. The air felt thick, heavy with the unspoken demands of the evening. The elaborate kimono you wore seemed to amplify that weight, its intricate embroidery shimmering under the light. Each layer of fabric, from the trailing hikizuri hem to the opulent obi tied with meticulous care, felt like a chain binding you to the role you were expected to fulfill.

The role that you didn't like.

The adornments on your hair - a delicate array of golden combs and jade pins - added to the strain, each piece glinting like a reminder of the perfection demanded of you. Even the subtle fragrance of incense clinging to your garments seemed to emphasize your place in this performance: a symbol, a display, but never a person.

Your movements, however, betrayed none of your inner turmoil. You moved with the fluidity that had been drilled into you for years, every step and turn perfectly calculated. The soft clack of your lacquered sandals against the polished wood echoed through the room, a rhythm as precise as the dance itself. Each motion was a testament to your training, your arms flowing gracefully as though carried by the air.

And then you saw him.

He’d changed. A lot. The years had shaped him into someone sharper, more refined, though the essence of him - remained unmistakable. His snow-white hair was still its signature mess, but it seemed more intentional now, as though he’d taken the time to style it. The glasses he wore were different, darker and sleeker, framing his face in a way that gave him an air of maturity you weren’t prepared for. Somehow, impossibly, he seemed even taller.

Even more handsome.

You couldn’t remember every detail of his face - time had eroded those memories - but some things stayed vivid. You remembered his hands cupping your face that night by the lake, trembling and warm despite the chill. You remembered the look in his eyes, desperate, as if trying to hold onto something slipping through his grasp. Those moments had etched themselves into your mind in ways you hadn’t dared to revisit.

Is it bad that you missed seeing him?

At first, his expression was unreadable, his lips slightly parted as though he’d been caught mid-thought. His usual cocky smirk, the one you had come to know and despise - was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a stunned stillness to him, an uncharacteristic vulnerability that made your chest tighten. Those piercing blue eyes, always so vivid, widened as they traced your figure.

You could see the faint flicker of recognition in them, the way his gaze darted across you as if trying to reconcile the person before him with the one he had known.

You couldn’t glance at him as much as you wanted to, though the urge tugged at you with every turn, every delicate gesture. The temptation was a steady hum beneath your practiced composure, but you ignored it.

Whatever he felt, whatever you felt, didn’t matter. Not here. Not now.

It was the longest performance you've ever done.

When your it ended, the room erupted into applause, a symphony of polite enthusiasm filling the grand space. Guests turned to your father, their compliments flowing freely, every word dripping with veiled flattery.

"What a remarkable performance, truly exquisite." one elder said, nodding with approval. He said this loud enough that you could hear him.

"Master, your planning is unmatched." said another, their tone measured and calculated "A brilliant highlight for the evening."

But not him.

He didn’t join the chorus of praise. He didn’t clap. He didn’t say a word. He just sat there, silent, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that felt like it might swallow you whole. The weight of his gaze burned hotter than any ovation, lingering on you as though he were trying to reach across the distance, trying to say something without words. Maybe something like - look at me again.

You didn’t dare to do this again, too afraid to face him, to face the reality of all you’d ignored: the messages you’d left unread, his attempts to connect with you, his clumsy, awkward texts filled with jokes and small glimpses of his life. You couldn’t bear the thought of the weight in his gaze reflecting those unanswered words, those years of silence between you.

Instead, you kept your head high, your back straight, your movements precise as you exited the stage. You didn’t need to see his face to feel his disappointment - or his persistence. It lingered in the air, following you even as you stepped out of the light.

© noira-l | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing The Kings to Your Plushies

me and my bestie have a joke about my faves showing up to my place for sex and i would not realize and just start talking about my plushies based on this dumb post we saw once, thought it'd be funny to turn into an actual scenario lol might do this for the other devils, angels, minhyeok if the ppl are interested lol notes: mildly sexual - not really anything deeply insane, gender neutral reader !!!

Satan

On one hand, he thinks you're really cute. On the other hand, he's here to fuck so.

He's going back and forth so much in his head for a moment he's not even paying attention to you talking oops.

Gets so frustrated and angered from trying to decide what to do it ultimately ends with him just jumping on you.

Cut you off mid word with an incredibly heat filled kiss from rage.

Honestly you might not even 100% be certain what happened but you're not complaining!! You can always talk about the rest of your plushies later!!!

Well. If Satan doesn't fuck you until the point you're resting for the next couple days.

Once he actually pays attention to you talking about them he'll remember some names here and there, but he will get them wrong on purpose to try and see you angry lol.

Mammon

The reality is he probably got you most of these plushies.

He adores seeing how you cherish them and the lore you've decided for them!!

Will remember every single detail you tell him about them!!

He thinks it's super cute and will humor you for the moment.

However, Mammon will get what he wants eventually. But for right now you're so adorable how could he tell you no?

He is DEFINITELY teasing you later once he does get to sleep with you about how cute you are.

This man lives to see you embarrassed and shy from his compliments.

Is probably buying you even MORE plushies now, hope you're prepared for that!

Leviathan

I think it depends at the point in your relationship, if it's early on he might just toss the plushies aside and get to the point of what he wants.

Later on I do think he genuinely listens, even if he's impatient and pretends like he doesn't care. If it's important to you he does care, just doesn't always show it.

Especially if you use the plushies as a form of comfort due to trauma or any other issues.

You won't even realize how much he paid attention until he refers to your plushies by their names if you accidentally leave them laying around.

However he does still get jealous so so easily so maybe try not to spend too much time at once focusing on them rather than him.

He tries so hard but eventually the jealousy will overtake him and he will just get straight to the sex.

For what it's worth, he still found you cute! He just can't help himself.

Beelzebub

I'm not gonna lie, you might be able to successfully distract him for a good bit.

Dude's invested in the names and lore and anything you have created for them!!! He likes hearing about it !!!!

He isn't gonna be able to remember every single bit of these details but he might remember some of it here and there. Either way he likes listening to how you talk about them!

That being said he can only sit still for so long so maybe introduce him a little at a time lmao.

Especially because once he DOES start to get distracted he's gonna remember the original reason he was here.

And well. Yeah just like that it's time to fuck!

Because you successfully distracted him for a bit you might be in store for an extra long session this time so! Good luck!

Lucifer

He listens fully. Wants to hear everything you have to say about them.

He finds the plushies super cute, so he enjoys listening to your ramblings, even if he had certain intentions when he arrived.

But most importantly, he's so endeared, you're so absolutely adorable to him. The way your face lights up when you talk about them, he can't get enough!!!!

So he lets you have your moment.

And when you're finally done is when he's actually gonna fuck you lol. Yeah, that was still happening he had a goal.

And if he's teasing you extra specially tonight, don't even worry about it (whether it be from compliments or degradation who's to say!! just know you're gonna be crying extra hard this time he's so worked up from how cute you are!).

Of course, he remembers every single detail you tell him, he has that shit committed to memory. Asks you questions sometimes to see that adorable look on your face again!

Belphegor

Goodnight.

He tries to pay attention but he's ready to fall asleep apologies.

He showed up for sex and when it wasn't happening his brain turned off.

That being said the second you realize he's asleep and start trying to wake him up he's on you!!

Like okay conversation done we're fucking now right?

It's just easier to give what he wants and lecture him in the process.

It's fine he tries to listen later. That being said if he invites Beleth to listen too don't worry about it. He totally didn't tell him to memorize details for him because he's probably gonna fall asleep again.

Asmodeus

Sorry there's just no way to distract this man from sex.

If he's showing up for sex he's here to for sex !!!!

And he WILL get it!!!

If anything he just starts fucking you while holding up the plushies to you and asking you details about them.

Unfortunately you're kinda too fucked out by that point to truly answer them.

He's a fucking menace apologies.

And he cannot be stopped I fear.

That being said any information he does manage to get out of you he does fully remember!!

It's his own weird way of showing affection, ya know?

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Stumbled upon your blog, and Lord!! I was wanting to request slashers reactions to s/o squirting(I've recently become oddly interested in how each of them would react)

If you're uncomfortable with the concept please ignore!! Have a great day!

Oh I love some squirting!

NSFW MDNI 18+, gender neutral AFAB reader, racially ambiguous, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers (any), Brahms Heelshire, Bo Sinclair, reader gets eaten out, overstimulation, lingerie, mild bdsm

Jason Voorhees

This man had already made you cum twice before he had his dick in you

The first time, he was fingering you on his lap and the second time he had you ride his face

Now he was deep inside your spent pussy, taking whatever he wanted

One hand stroking your cheek as you moan and whine his name while the other toyed with you clit

The whole time, Jason has maintained eye contact with you

His piercing gaze as he fucked into you like it would be the last time he had you beneath him made you absolutely lose yourself

You arched your back up from the mattress screaming his name

A jet of liquid splashed against his pelvis the entire time you came

Dripping down between your bodies and onto the sheets below

While Jason had stopped fucking his throbbing cock into you, he did rub your clit through the entirety of your squirting orgasm

The only time his eyes left your face was to watch the spray of fluid erupt from your pussy

He didn't know you could do that

And now that he did, he needed to have you do it again

Bo Sinclair

It was his goal the first time he got you under him

Fucks you senseless then has you ride him until you're crying from overstimulation

The sound of your sopping cunt plapping against his pelvis is music to his ears

He'll put you in every position known to man

Could probably add a couple chapter to the Kama Sutra with how he handles you

You always come out of his room wobbly and needing to sit on a donut pillow

Bo loves using toys on you just to see your reaction

Your pretty wrists bound to his headboard, vibrator on your clit, as he slowly pumps his cock into you

He's in no rush and just wants to watch his pretty little thing come undone for him

Bo places the vibrator onto the very tip of your clit making you scream out his name and sob from the intense pleasure

His thrusting picked up a bit excited to see how you reacted to the toy

Then you felt wetter

A lovely stream of squirt erupted from your pussy and onto his pelvis

Bo bit his lip holding back a low groan

Now he had you right where he wanted you

Michael Myers

You are pretty much his fleshlight

His main goal is to use your pretty little cunt as his own personal cum dump

If you get off on that then that's a happy accident on his part

Michael will pretty much take you anywhere at anytime

Your pussy is pretty much free real estate and Michael is ready to move in

Fat cock bullying your pussy open while he pushes you into a wall

He had already came in you once today, his previous load now getting fucked further into you

You were practically boneless and only being held up by Michael's hands on your hips and cock buried deep inside you

After he had made you cum this morning, you ended up playing with yourself a little bit using the cum he left in you

Your mind felt fuzzy and pink like you were sat in a cloud of pure bliss

You couldn't even be bothered with how your own squirt sprayed out of you and onto the floor in a puddle

But Michael noticed

And he knew that once he was finished in you he was going to make you lick your mess up off the floor

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms had you dressed up in some lacy white lingerie

Something you'd expect to hidden underneath a wedding dress as a surprise a bride had put on for the groom on the night of their wedding

He had pulled your garter off with his teeth and practically shoved his face into your pussy after

For a while he just laid between your legs mouthing at your clothed cunt and inhaling your scent

When Brahms wanted more, he practically ripped the panties off of you and dove into your cunt like a man starved

Sloppy and loud was the best way to describe it

But he made you cum anyway

Juices trailing down his chin being lapped up by his tongue

Again he needed just another taste

Then another

And another

His strong hands kept you legs pinned to the bed so you couldn't kick him away from your drooling pussy

Your orgasm felt like a kick to your stomach as juices erupted from your body

Brahms happily lapped up everything he could

Now he had to get you to do that again

[bosbas]

Chapter 3: it was all by design

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 1.7k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, morally grey daphne ??, slow burn!!!, anthony being a SIMPPPP (i love it)

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

June 2, 1812 - As you walked into Lady Danbury's ballroom, your hands were gripping the skirt of your dress to keep them from trembling. Tonight was the night you were going to ask Anthony to court you. You were asking him. It was an absurd concept at best, a lady asking a gentleman to court. But you'd already come this far, asking him to dance and all, so you supposed it wasn't that large of a jump from one thing to the next.

It wasn't real, you kept reminding yourself. It was just a way to give Daphne the season she deserved. And Anthony had absolutely no interest in marriage anyway, so he would surely not particularly mind when you ended things with him.

Besides, you were fairly certain he only saw you as a sister, much like Daphne, so it was doubtful he’d even be amenable to the prospect of starting a courtship with you. It was taking a lot of mental work to convince yourself that this would be fine.

But at the end of the day, you had your own reputation to think about. As much as you enjoyed spending time with Anthony at high society balls, you knew it wasn't the best for your image if you were constantly seen dancing with a man who wasn't courting you. Someone was bound to think that something was wrong with you. Several people had asked you already, actually.

So, you smoothed your skirts and steeled your nerves. This was the best option for Daphne. And for you if you wanted to keep spending as much time with Anthony as you were now.

Looking around the ballroom, your eyes met the eldest Bridgerton's.

His eyes immediately lit up, blinking as he took in your impressive ballgown and elbow-length gloves. Quickly, he started walking toward you, practically tripping over Cressida Cowper's train because he was in such a rush.

“Good evening, Lady L/N,” he bowed, putting on the stuffy voice you’d heard him use with his mother’s friends.

“Good evening, Viscount,” you responded, playing along with him.

He flashed you the most charming smile you had ever seen, and you understood completely why the ladies of the ton swooned over him. If you had his charisma and good looks, you’d probably be a rake, too.

“Fancy a dance tonight?” he asked casually, his hand reaching out to softly touch your dance-card-clad wrist.

“I suppose I do,” you responded, flashing him a vibrant smile. The nerves you had felt a few minutes ago had practically evaporated, leaving only room for excitement as Anthony interwove his fingers with yours and led you to the dance floor.

A few minutes after the dance had begun, you caught a glimpse of Daphne and Mr Norwood looking completely smitten with one another. It quickly reminded you of your goal for the night. If Daphne was going to marry Mr Norwood then you needed to bite the bullet and get this over with right now.

As you were staring intently at your best friend and the man she wanted to marry, your brow furrowed and lips pursed, you felt Anthony's warm breath close to your ear.

“What’s on your mind?” he whispered softly, sensing your mind was elsewhere.

Having spent so much time with you in the past few weeks, Anthony had grown accustomed to your quirks and knew that you weren’t being your usual self.

You froze. It was now or never.

“Um… Well… I was just thinking about how our dancing every night looks. To other people I mean. Given that we’re not courting,” you babbled, unable to meet the eyes of the man in front of you.

Confused, Anthony continued, “Is this about what I said the other night? About only being able to dance so many times?”

“No, not at all,” you reassured him. If you two did end up courting, you didn’t ever want him to think he was at fault. “Just some comments I’ve heard from ladies around the ton, you know how they are. They ask me questions I don’t particularly know the answer to,” you said dismissively.

“And you’re worried about how this will affect you in the future, as an unmarried lady?”

“Well… yes,” you responded lamely. Although everything you had said up to this point was true, you were still unable to meet his eyes, the guilt of deceiving him eating away at you.

Anthony knit his eyebrows together in confusion. Hadn’t you physically recoiled at the thought of courting him just a few days ago when he said it as a joke?

Regardless, he mulled over what you had said. He knew you fairly well, and even though you weren’t usually bothered by a bit of gossip (you were spending time with him even though he was the world’s biggest rake, for heaven’s sake), he understood your hesitation.

“Does this mean you want me to properly court you?” he asked gently, not wanting to scare you off again.

Perhaps it was the sincerity in Anthony’s voice, or just you realizing the gravity of the situation, but you immediately tensed up.

“No, I don’t think so,” you started slowly, torn between helping Daphne and protecting yourself. But you had already made your choice. You loved your best friend, but not to the point of breaking all social decorum and asking a man to court you. “Not at all,” you laughed airily. “I know you’re not looking to marry, and honestly neither am I. It was just a silly comment, my apologies.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

You cursed Daphne’s brother for being so perceptive. How on earth could he tell exactly what you were feeling?

“I don’t know,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. God, this would be so much easier if you had feelings for him and wanted to court him. Then you could just say yes and stop feeling so guilty.

Seeing how torn you were, Anthony decided to let the subject lie. The season was still only beginning, and there would be yet time to figure out what exactly was going on between you.

However, letting the subject lie decidedly did not mean that he would stop thinking about it. In fact, it was the only thing he thought about for the rest of the night, completely missing an almost inappropriate kiss Mr Norwood left on Daphne’s hand.

--- 

Anthony hadn’t stopped thinking about the possibility of properly courting you the following morning. He sat in his sunroom, rereading the same paragraph for the sixth time as he tried to focus on anything other than your anxiety-filled eyes the previous night. 

“Y/N was looking rather lovely last night,” commented Daphne offhandedly as she worked on her needlepoint. 

“What?” said Anthony, startled out of his thoughts. He’d completely forgotten his sister was in the room with him, too. 

“Y/N, last night, looking lovely,” repeated Daphne, covertly looking at her brother as he remembered what you were wearing at Lady Danbury’s ball. 

“Err… I suppose she did look rather fetching, yes,” he responded awkwardly, shuffling the newspaper on his lap to another page. 

Then, looking at his sister suspiciously, he added, “But I wasn’t looking to get married this year, Daphne.”

You had told her about how you’d been unable to ask Anthony to court, of course. You had apologized profusely, but Daphne would hear none of it. Reassuring you that it was no problem, really, and that she understood your hesitation completely, Daphne had decided to shift her focus to her brother. It was true, a woman asking a man to dance was completely taboo, and it probably wouldn’t even have worked. So, although you hadn’t outright asked Anthony to court, you had certainly gotten the closest to it that a woman in polite society could. Now all he needed was a little push. 

“Neither was Y/N, to my understanding,” she responded, keeping her tone light and her eyes on her thread and needle. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Anthony waved dismissively. “She’s said it herself, I’m the biggest rake in Mayfair. Getting involved in her would only hurt her image in the long run.”

“Don’t be daft,” laughed Daphne. “You’re a Bridgerton. Rake or not, I doubt any association with you would taint her image in the slightest. She’s been involved with us for years! She’s my best friend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Anthony humphed, annoyed that his little sister was making sense. Stubbornly, he continued, “Exactly, it’s not a good idea to bring feelings into a courtship, anyway. She’s been a friend of the family for ages.”

Daphne shrugged, slowly becoming more supportive of her best friend courting her brother, whether it was under false pretenses or not. “I certainly wouldn’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

After a pause, she added, “And how do you know the feelings are there? That’s what a courtship is for, isn’t it?” 

She was in quite a similar situation herself, though she could never tell Anthony lest he completely lose his mind. 

Daphne looked up at her brother, almost seeing the gears in his mind turning. 

“Do you really think I should?” he asked, setting down the newspaper beside him. 

“If you want,” she responded flippantly, knowing Anthony had already made up his mind. 

“Oh my word, it’s almost afternoon!” exclaimed Anthony, looking at the grandfather clock on the other side of the sunroom. “I should go now, I suppose. What if someone else has already come to call on her? Am I too late?”

Daphne, highly amused at her brother’s sudden sense of urgency, laughed. “Only one way to find out…” 

But Anthony didn’t hear her response, already rushing out of the room to grab his coat so he could go call on you. Properly. Like a gentleman. For the first time. 

And funnily enough, Anthony felt no fear, no anxiety, no dread. Nothing that he usually felt when thinking about courtship and marriage. He was simply excited to see you.

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

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[mono-dot-jpeg]

boy failures for u - i. yoichi, s. nagi, s. ryusei, b. meguru

summary; in which some boys just love you so much, they simply can't function

genre/extra tags; scenarios, fluff, comedy, projecting my love for dog energy boys, they're so pathetic /pos, bachira is clumsy, ryusei is an embarrassingly horny dude (can confirm, he gets no bitches, absolutely ZERO play!!), nagi... is perfect as he is, yoichi,,,, is just socially awkward around people he has a crush on

[gender neutral reader]

a/n; look at me being fancy this one panel banner, slay. tbh i couldn't think of a good three photos to use for it so i tried this which is kind of nice. anyways i had a sudden thought hit me and it must be done. and what better anime to write for than the one where everyone has unexplainable gay tension between each other. i swear im as caught up as possible i think and i swear the gay tension is like,, crazy.

isagi yoichi is endearing. he's so bad at being normal around you. his face flushed a cute red, and his words barely managing to leave his mouth as you talk to him so sweetly. he doesn't know how to handle a crush. and it's so cute to tease him because he just doesn't know how to respond properly.

the times where he does manage to gain enough confidence to talk a conversation with you, he's never taking the lead in any of them. he's talking [somewhat] normally to you, answering your questions and [attempting] to reply to your thoughts and responses. of course, just don't flirt with him too hard. there's like a 50 percent chance he will understand it or not.

he can't even admire you correctly. when he attempts to give you a compliment, he's saying all the wrong words and apologizing profusely like he offended your entire bloodline. he's so utterly enchanted by you, he wonders if you're an angel sent just for him.

"you're so nice, y/n." "huh?" "i-i mean you're really cute! wait- i didn't mean that! fuck- not that i don't think you look cute! you're really a great person, you know?! sorry! i'm just gonna go back to practice...!"

nagi seishiro is so lazy that you can't help but watch over him. you understand why reo adores him (a little too much). he's a boy with pretty privilege and talent. he talks to you with such honesty that he unintentionally flirts with you. he doesn't know a lot of things well, but even he's had his fair share with understanding liking people (but that's only with the random dating sims he's tried).

when he manages to get on his feet, whether it's for a soccer match or you, he's stuck by you like a cute koala. he whines about everything being "too much of a hassle." but he finds himself walking around looking for you, no matter how far you are. he whines to you about how he had to get up to find you, and he's cuddling close to you. his mouth turned into his signature X shape as he pouts at you, annoyed that you just had to be away from him for more than a minute.

he tries so hard to be around you but at the cost of his laziness, he mutters to you about how much easier it would be if you just stay with him all the time like his purple-haired companion or his cactus pet. he fell for you first, but he makes it so easy for you to fall harder.

"why do you always have to do stuff?" "it's my job, sei." "you should just stay with me all the time. you take care of me so well."

shidou ryuusei is annoyingly desperate for you. if isagi was endearing, shidou was insolent. he speaks before he thinks. he has no shame in chasing after you. it's quite a feat that you haven't even shooed him away as much as sae has. you sort of find a friend in sae because of that. he always rolls his eyes when you mention him. he wonders why you keep being around the blonde jock, and you tell him, "who doesn't love a pathetic man?"

when he talks to you, he just can't read a room with you in it. he's the type of guy to say "this shot is for you." and it hits the goal post and then to his face. of course he'd never actually miss in a real match but i can guarantee that it would happen during a practice match. he unintentionally humiliates himself every time he tries to be cool. if sae is there, it's even worse. he's trying to bump up the flirting up to a 200 and failing miserably to woo either of you.

he's like those tweets where it's like, "how did i pull them? easy. i just went, PLEASEPLEAPLSEPWPLEAPLELA-". without fail, he basically tries to re-enact that but he doesn't even pull you because you'd much rather wait for him to actually be a decent man and grow the rest of his brain. though it doesn't seem he'll learn his lesson anytime soon.

"did i ever tell you how hot you look right now?" "yes. you have. multiple times. today." "please go out with me." "no."

bachira meguru is confusing. he's clingy, blunt, teasing, a little stupid but has the spirit, and an absolute cutie. he's passionate about what he likes. and surprise, surprise, he likes you. he's an infodumper but you don't mind at all. but sometimes those talks take a hard left into just telling you how much he likes you. you better hope you're strong because he will be jumping on you for a hug.

when he's just buzzing with excitement, he can't help but scramble by your side to cling onto you in any way that you will allow him to. he's not as boy failure as the others on this list because even when he fails to capture your heart, he's still succeeding in his book. he loves when you give him any sliver of attention. that's probably his thing as a boy failure. he is a hyper and needy dog who's too big to cuddle with but doesn't care. and you can't say no because then they just stare at you with those big eyes until you cave.

he's the type of guy to be confused when people ask if you're dating him and you say no. "what do you mean we're not dating? i thought this was the dating." he's never actually confessed, but he considers his "s-tier affection" to be confession enough. but he's kind of coward whether he realizes it or not. he's scared to actually say that he wants to be yours, but that's like an angsty story for another time, SO SHUT.

"what if we kissed? like right now?" "but we're not dating, meguru." "we're not? we should." "i'll think about it." "no think! just do!"

[hannieehaee]

them accidentally ditching you on your bday pt. 2 - hhu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, conflict resolution, direct continuation to this, fluff, happy ending, etc.

part 1

wc: 3889

a/n: literally so many ppl requested thisjhdf im glad u guys liked it!! im working on vu and pu versions for this rn btw <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

seungcheol sat there for a minute or so, simply pondering at what had just happened. it was 100% his fault, that was something he was very well aware of. he knew that it had simply slipped his mind, but that did not wipe away the hurt he saw in your eyes upon entering your shared apartment. knowing that you had been waiting for him all day made him feel like an asshole. he couldn't believe that he had forgotten about your birthday even upon coming home at midnight the night prior. he felt like such a hypocrite, always whining at people to give him royalty treatment on his birthday but absolutely ignoring you during yours. you, his most favorite person.

he felt hurt that you had decided to spend the night with some friends, instead of in the arms of your boyfriend, but he understood. this was what he deserved. god knew that he wouldve pulled out all the dramatics if you had done the same to him, which was why he was now at a standstill, not knowing what he should do. he wanted to see you so badly, get on his knees and apologize, letting you know over and over again that you were the most vital person in his life and that forgetting you was something that not even he could forgive himself for.

now, he could've sat there and lamented himself over his stupid mistake, or he could run after you before you made it out of the building. he did not want you going to bed angry, or much worse, sad, so he picked the latter and got off his ass to chase after you, not caring about his current exhaustion as he took the stairs rather than the elevator in order to be able to catch up to you before you made it to your car.

luckily for him, he was able to catch you just as you stepped out of the elevator (having ran down five flights of stairs and almost injuring himself in the process), completely unsuspecting to his sudden ambush. he hadn't noticed until now, but you had dressed up, clearly ready to go clubbing or partying with your friends. he felt bad to get in the way of your plans. no, he felt horrible to accidentally ditch you and then ruin your plans. but he needed to at least try and make amends. he knew that if this were him, he'd want you to try and make it up to him.

you jumped back a bit at seungcheol's sudden apparition as you rounded the corner upon exiting the elevator, seemingly not having expected him to come after you.

"cheol, what are you doing?", you didn't seem mad, but your tone let him know you were clearly not content with him.

okay, he didn't think as far as this. his main goal was just to convince you to stay, then he would come up with a way to make it up to you.

"baby, i ... i'm so sorry. i know how hypocritical this is coming from me. i never meant to forget, you know that! there's nothing i can do to make up for having forgotten about you today, but please, please let me try."

"cheol .. i don't know," you paused, "last year when i texted you at 12:03 you complained about it for over an hour. you're the one always making a big deal about this. i assumed you'd care when the shoe was on your foot, but apparently not."

"i do! i do care. baby, please. let me take you out. ditch your friends. i'll take you somewhere. anywhere. i'll even take you out tomorrow too! i'll take the day off. how does that sound?"

"you cant take the day off, cheol. you're an idol-"

"i dont care! they can come and try to drag me away from you if they want. i want to be with you. please let me. please don't leave. cant stand the thought of you going to sleep alone after what i did."

you chuckled at the first half of his statement, feeling touched at the second part of it.

"are you sure?"

he scoffed, deciding to go on a leap and hold onto your hands, pulling you closer to him, "yes! there's nothing i wanted to do more today than be with you! it mightve slipped my mind that today was the day, but i had a beautiful day for us planned, baby. will you let me show you? please?"

cheol knew it was hard for you to say no to him, specially when he whined and pouted at you, giving you his best performance in order for you to understand how badly he felt. it didn't take much more for you to break, finally letting a smile graced your face as you squeezed his hands in yours.

"you better make this worth my while, choi seungcheol," god, he hated when anyone called him that, but you were the exception.

"always."

wonwoo -

wonwoo was astonished at himself, for lack of a better word. he had never been more disappointed in himself than in this moment. sure, he didn't take birthdays too seriously, and he knew you didn't either, but you always made him feel so special on his day he had only wanted to do the same. he was a lowkey guy, so his ways of showing love sometimes went unnoticed by most people, except for you. you accepted the subtlety of his love, loving him all the more for it. he felt terrible that today he showed you the exact opposite of what he had planned. he had taken weeks to perfect the dinner he had wanted to make for you, having prepared a romantic night for the two of you. all he wanted was to make you feel loved as he held you through the night, but his plan had stupidly slipped his mind.

what kind of asshole ditches their significant other on their birthday? for a stupid video game out of all things? as soon as wonwoo communicated what you had texted him to mingyu, his roommate couldn't help but scold him, telling him this was very uncharacteristic of him. which it was. everyone knew wonwoo to be a very sensible guy. it was very rare for anyone to have their feelings hurt by wonwoo. the guy was just simply too emotionally intelligent to ever be perceived as a hurtful individual. except now he had shown a careless part of himself that rarely ever faced the surface.

he was unsure of what to do. it was clear by your messages that you did not want to see him. you quite literally had asked him to not come. your texts to him were always filled with love, somehow being able to have your affections to him transcend even through text. but these were cold, and with good reason. still, wonwoo did not want to give up. the only thing that would be worse than ditching you on your birthday would be to stay where he was, knowing you were not only upset but also hurt by his actions. or rather, lack there of.

so, wonwoo was now on his way to you. well, to your apartment. you had mentioned in your messages that you would be out with friends due to his absence. it killed him that you had chosen to be with your friends over him, but he was fully aware that he only had himself to blame for that. he was glad you at least had someone to be with while his forgetfulness kept him away from you.

he had a key to your apartment, often heading over to fall asleep in your arms after a grueling day of being an idol. upon arriving there, he knew you'd be gone, so he allowed himself in, hauling in all the ingredients he had packed with him in order to make you the dinner he had been planning all these weeks. he was unsure of when you'd arrive back home, so he needed to hurry just in case. there was also a chance you'd come back in the early hours of the morning, knowing you would sometimes stay out with your friends til 1 or 2 in the am. having practiced this dinner multiple times, wonwoo was able to have it all done by 10, hoping that you'd arrive soon so the dinner wouldn't go to waste. he took care of the ambience, lighting candles and even moving furniture aside to make space for his set up. all he had to do now was wait for your arrival.

it had taken you around two hours to arrive. wonwoo had simply sat there waiting for you, not wanting to contact you as to not disturb you. okay, maybe he had maniacally texted you back earlier, apologizing for his mistake over and over, but had received no response, so he had decided it'd be best to just wait for you to arrive on your own. and now you were here, crossing the door to your apartment.

you stopped upon spotting him, widening your eyes before taking note of the dinner table behind him, "wonwoo? what are you doing here?"

he smiled sadly at you, slightly unsure of what to say, "i cooked for you," he paused, continuing upon seeing your confusion, "im so sorry. time got the best of me. i cant believe it slipped my mind. i knew it was today, but i got too distracted. i never wanted to make you feel like i didnt care. i do. so much."

you stood there without saying anything, still carrying a slightly shocked expression on your face. so he continued.

"baby ... please, have a meal with me. i prepared all this for you. this is what i had planned for today, if only i hadnt forgotten. let me make it up to you, please. i already called off tomorrow. i had a whole day planned for us, but i'll do whatever you want. if you want me to leave, i will. just, please. i need you to know how much i care. i love you, you're everything."

you continued to stare at him for a bit, a soft smile slowly breaking into your features before responding.

"nonu .. you didn't have to do all this. i'm sorry if i made you worry. this is ... it's such a sweet gesture. of course i want you to stay. all i wanted all day was to be with you," it melted his heart that you had wanted him all day, but were separated by none other than himself.

he pulled you into his arms halfway through your response, humming as he felt you hug him back. nothing felt as nice as your touch against his.

"im so sorry, beautiful. this will never happen again, i promise."

"i love you, wonwoo. thank you."

"happy birthday."

mingyu -

mingyu had never hauled ass quicker than at that moment, not even bothering to say goodbye to his roommate before grabbing a jacket and sprinting out of the door.

he couldn't believe his behavior towards you. you had always been a top priority to him, and to now realize he had forgotten your birthday gutted him tremendously. but what got to him even more was the knowledge that you had probably been waiting all day for him, having agreed beforehand that he would make space for you on your special day even through his packed comeback schedule. the sole thought that you, the bestest person he had ever met, had sat alone waiting for him all day, made him feel like the worst boyfriend. so now he was quite literally running in order to get to you.

the dryness of your voice during that call should've been the first hint that something was wrong, but what really made the alarms go off in his head was your lack of response when he said 'i love you' to you. mingyu knew it was dumb to care so much about it, but he thrived off words of affirmation, so your lack of response made him immediately assume something was wrong. you had never not reciprocated his words of affection, much less hung up on him. the moment he expressed his concerns to wonwoo, he was reminded by his roommate that 'oh wait, isn't it their birthday this week?' suddenly his mind started spiraling, now remembering that he had forgotten his boyfriend duties on the most important day.

it didn't take him too long to get to your apartment. okay, he didn't actually run there, he was just being a tad bit dramatic. but dramatics were necessary in this situation, which is why the moment you begrudgingly opened the door after his incessant knocks, allowing him inside, he immediately dropped to his knees, looking up at you as he rambled apologies at you.

"baby, i'm so fucking sorry. god, i don't know how i forgot. i swear the day just slipped my mind. i had plans ready, i swear! i've just been so busy with the comeback- not that that's an excuse! you have every reason to be mad at me. it won't happen again, i promise, i-" mingyu wasn't sure when exactly he was going to stop listing off constant apologies to you. he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying at this point, just repeating himself over and over again, letting it slip past him that you were now standing above him, holding in your amusement at the state of the pleading man before you.

"mingyu, please get up."

like an obedient boy, he got up, now towering over you as he usually did. he immediately held onto your hands, bringing them up to his chest as he continued his apologies.

"you have every right to be mad at me. i neglected you and forgot about you when i shouldn't have. i didn't even wanna come home to wonwoo tonight! i wanted to come to you! but we have a schedule early tomorrow morning, so it was just easier. but i'll cancel! i'll stay here with you! i wanna make it up to you-"

"mingyu, shut up!"

that was enough for him to slam his mouth shut immediately, looking at you as he waited for your next command words.

"mingyu, listen. i understand. i was hurt you forgot, but i understand you're really busy right now, okay? i'm not angry at you. you don't have to cancel your schedule either. i don't want to get in the way of-"

"i'll do it! you're my top priority, baby. you know that."

"i still don't want you to cancel, gyu. it's fine. i'm not angry. i appreciate your apology. just wanted to be with you today .. i'm sorry if i made you worry," you looked down, almost as if embarrassed by having felt hurt by his actions. this made mingyu melt with guilt.

"no, baby. fuck. how can i make this up to you? can i stay here tonight? hmm? i'll cook you dinner and wake you up with breakfast. i'll even cut my schedule short for tomorrow so i can be back home with you earlier. how's that sound?"

"sounds perfect mingyu, thank you," he took this as confirmation to finally hold you in his arms, swaying you back and forth as he hummed the birthday song lightly against your ear, causing you to giggle against him.

vernon -

everyone was aware that vernon could sometimes be a little too chill for his own good. he didn't make too big of a deal about most things, simply going with the flow and allowing things to evolve on their own. except that could not be done in this situation. right now, he needed to make a choice. give you your space, or run home to you, tail between his legs as he apologized for ever having forgotten about you. the last thing vernon would ever want was for you to not feel the immense amount of love he's always had for you. he knew he could be bad at showing it sometimes, but you were the absolute love of his life, which made him feel devastated over and over again as he kept rereading your texts.

'maybe you should stay at the dorms tonight. not really in the mood for you to spend the night. im sorry. love you.' that was what you had last sent to him exactly thirty-eight minutes ago. how could he just sit with that for the rest of the night? specially when all he wanted to do was be with you and hold you and kiss you and show you how incredibly obsessed with you he was. he was never good with dates, but he had always gotten any and all dates pertaining to you right thus far. he even had a gift for you he had purchased a few months back, but he had stupidly forgotten the day he had been preparing for was this week. this mistake was an outlier, truly, but it hurt you nonetheless, which was all vernon cared about at the moment. he couldn't believe you'd been having to hint at your birthday while your boyfriend remained clueless. you must've felt so dejected. he winced at the thought.

however, right now was not a time for lamentations. even if you kicked him out and told him to get fucked, vernon had to at least try to come home to you now. he quickly went over the situation with his members, explaining that he had been a total douchebag and neglected you. that earned him scoldings from all members present, calling him all types of names and demanding he head over to your apartment right this instant to beg for forgiveness and hope you wouldn't just send him right back.

so now he was on his way to you, despite you having instructed him to stay away. he wanted to respect your wishes, but he couldn't go to sleep tonight knowing your heart was still hurt because of him. he needed to at least see you and have you know that he was willing to try and mend things. vernon wasn't one for public displays, nor was he one for dramatics, but he was willing to pull all stops for you if it meant you'd forgive him. which was why he was currently running through the hybe hallways as he called up his driver to be ready to take him to your apartment as soon as he reached the parking lot.

he had had time to think over a game plan on the way over, except nothing came to mind. the two of you had never fought before. sure, there had been a few minuscule spats here and there, but he had never seen you angry at him before; he'd never given any reason to be until now. he didn't want to freak out over this, but knew how hurtful it must've been for you to feel so neglected by the person who's supposed to love you most, so he felt a pit in his stomach with the worry that maybe this would be enough for you to finally snap at his forgetful tendencies and end it. he didn't have much time to think about this, however, as he now stood in front of your apartment door, fearful of knocking on it.

the decision to open the door was made for him, as you incidentally opened it yourself, yelping at his apparition on the other side of it.

"vernon? what are you doing here?", you didn't seem angry. you seemed more confused at his presence. that was good.

"i- uh ... i'm sorry."

okay, kind of a bad start.

"vernon. i told you not to come over tonight. i'm sorry, i'm not really in the mood to see you right now," even though you didn't appear angry, your eyes wouldn't meet his, making him deflate a bit.

"are you mad at me? i'm so sorry. i didnt mean to forget, i swear," vernon knew there wasn't much he could say past that, but he wanted you to at least know he regretted his neglect.

"i'm not angry, vernon. i'm just a little ... sad. i tried to be subtle about it. i mean, i dont even care for my birthday that much, but i hoped my boyfriend would at least remember it."

"baby, god. i am so fucking sorry. i never meant to make you feel like i didn't care. it just slipped my mind. i know it's not a valid excuse, but i need you to know that it doesnt mean anything. i'm just a fucking idiot. i'm sorry."

he was rambling now. somehow you being hurt by him trumped the chance of you being mad.

"vernon, it's fine. i dont want you beating yourself up about it. i'll get over it. i just need space tonight. i was about to go meet with a friend before you got here," you seemed like you just wanted to get out of the situation, clearly feeling awkward at even expressing your disappointment at him. it made vernon feel like even more of an asshole.

"no! be mad! you shouldn't get over it. i should be making it up to you. stay. please. i'll do anything you want. i'll take tomorrow off. we can do something together. anything you want. i have a gift for you and everything! i got it while in japan, the date just slipped my mind, i swear. please stay. i don't want to leave you alone if i made you sad. please."

"vernon ..."

"please. i don't want to force you. if you want to leave, i'll accept it, but let me make it up to you. i dont want you to feel like i dont care. i do. i know i dont express it much, that's on me. i'll make it known. i'll show you. i don't want to hurt you again, i-"

he was unable to finish his sentence, now stumbling back due to a sudden weight against him. you, with your arms now wrapped around him as your face nuzzled his neck. he instinctively wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you in as he lowered his head to breathe you in, humming as he felt the relief of having you in his hold.

you pulled away too quickly for his liking, eyes slightly glossy but not enough to consider it worrisome, "i forgive you. i'm sorry, i didn't mean to exaggerate. i did feel neglected, but-"

"but nothing. don't apologize, please. this won't happen again, okay? i love you."

"i love you too," you smiled at him before pausing, "i .. do you wanna come in?", you seemed a bit sheepish, probably feeling awkward at hearing vernon ramble apologies at you for the past five minutes, showing way more emotion than he usually did.

"come in? oh, you're not leaving? wait, don't answer that. yes," he held onto your hand before you could say anything, pulling you in for a quick kiss before leading you into your apartment, all under the promise to make up for his previous carelessness and never make you doubt his affections for you ever again.

[sleep-i-ness]

Commentary of the Heart (Part 2)

Summary: If you knew all it would take was a particularly embarrassing stint on commentary for the Gryffindor match, you would've suffered through it sooner

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST | PART 1

“Good afternoon, Hogwarts! It’s a cold and cloudy day but the atmosphere is just electric. I’m your commentator, Lee Jordan. Joining me today due to a few incidents last time, we have a special guest to keep me in line. Y/N, Gryffindor’s resident mascot-”

You stomped on Lee’s toe, who yelped down the megaphone and glared at you.

“Now, Ms Y/L/N, do I need to remove you from the commentator box?” Professor McGonagall’s voice cut in and you smiled up at her sweetly.

“No, no, Professor,” you winced as your voice boomed out across the pitch. “It’s an honour to be here alongside Lee today. Apologies if the commentary is a bit stop-start; the censorship team have decided to swap commentators when commentary becomes too subjective—”

“Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Just giving a disclaimer, professor.” At her stern look, you sighed, passing the megaphone back to Lee.

“Y/N is,” Lee gave you a onceover and a cheeky grin, “both beauty and brains, as many of you already know. And according to the Hogwarts rumour mill, the Gryffindor captain is particularly appreciative of that fact.”

“Mr Jordan!”

You froze, mouth agape as you stared at him, your face flaming. He offered you the megaphone, but you shook your head, pressing your ice-cold fingers against your burning cheeks in a futile effort to cool the blush. Prick. Absolute bellend. You were going to kill him after this

“Sorry, sorry, Professor,” Lee turned back to the pitch, cheeky grin plastered onto his face. “And coming out onto the pitch today, we have the Gryffindors! Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Any of them catch your eye, Y/N?”

“I think the thing that’s catching my eye is Potter’s Firebolt,” you responded, giving him a withering look. “Chang is a good Seeker but at the end of the day, the question will be whether her Comet will be any match for the Firebolt. And look, here come the Ravenclaws; Burrow, Chang, Davies, Inglebee, Page, Samuels and Stretton. I do have to say, Ravenclaw’s not doing too well with gender diversity this year-”

“Ms Y/L/N.”

“Sorry, professor. It must be a great honour for Chang to be representing the female population of Ravenclaw house out here on the pitch, proving to every young Ravenclaw girl that they too can take on the might of the Gryffindor team.”

“Y/L/N!” Professor McGonagall chastised and you blinked innocently, passing the megaphone back to Lee.

“Y/N, you make a very interesting point,” Lee glanced at Professor McGonagall and thought twice about what he was going to say. Fortunately for all in the commentator’s box, the whistle blew. “They’re off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year’s World Championship—”

 “Jordan, would you mind telling us what’s going on in the match?” interrupted Professor McGonagall.

You laughed,

“Right you are, Professor—just giving a bit of background information—the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and —”

 “Jordan!”

“Okay, okay.” Lee sighed, passing the megaphone over to you.

“Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal…” your eyes scanned the field, “Samuels sending a nasty Bludger her way, but Weasley blocks it with a—ooh nice swing, George!”

“Y/N!”

Slightly too late you remembered the rules on impartiality. “Yes, sorry, Bell continues undeterred on her path to goal, dodging Davies and Stretton’s clumsy attempt at a Body Blow and—yes! scores! Ten-zero to Gryffindor! That was a beautiful knuckle ball from Katie Bell, straight past Page into the middle hoop.”

Your voice is drowned out by the raucous cheering that erupts from the Gryffindor section as you continue, eyes catching on Potter as he dives. “But no time for celebration, it looks like Potter has spotted the Snitch, diving down with Chang trailing after him on her Comet. It really is in these moments that we see the Firebolt shine—”

“Ms Y/L/N, could you return to commenting on the match?”

“Yes, professor,” you sighed. “And a nasty Bludger from Inglebee has Potter rolling to avoid it and he’s lost the Snitch. —Don’t worry, Potter, it’s clear that Firebolt beats Chang’s Comet by miles. — Up above, Page passes the Quaffle to Burrow, who moves to take up a Hawkshead Attacking Formation with Davies and Stretton, but a Bludger from Weasley has them scattering. Perhaps the more ambitious tactics ought to be saved for the big leagues. And Burrow passes to Davies—ooh, a lovely check from Spinnet means Gryffindor have possession and Ravenclaw haven’t even made it out of their goal end.              

Spinnet is undertaking some excellent zig-zag manoeuvring, confounding both of Ravenclaw’s Beaters as they wildly send Bludgers down the pitch. Spinnet shoots and she scores! Thirty-zero to Gryffindor. For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, that’s two goals from Bell and one from Spinnet. Maybe Ravenclaw should reevaluate the number of women on their team—”

“Y/L/N!”

You sighed and passed the megaphone back to Lee, taking a large gulp of the glass of water next to you as he winked, jumping straight back into the game.

“Perhaps in an attempt to defend their all-male Chaser lineup, Davies is racing down the pitch, narrowly avoiding a Bludger from Weasley with an annoyingly impressive Sloth Grip Roll. Johnson goes for the check, but Davies is clutching on tight to that Quaffle—he can’t risk passing it when there’s such precise defence work being undertaken by the Gryffindor Chasers. He’s nearing the Gryffindor goal end, he shoots and AND IT’S A BEAUTIFUL SAVE BY OLIVER WOOD! What a man!” Lee nudged you and you wrinkled your nose as him, choosing to ignore his infuriating jabs. “Wood passes to Johnson, Johnson to Bell, Bell back to Johnson, and what a stunner that girl is—”

“Jordan.”

Lee sighs, passing the megaphone back to you and you laugh. “And Johnson scores, putting it at fourty-zero to Gryffindor, meaning that all female Chasers on the pitch have scored. I’m thinking Ravenclaw really ought to reevaluate their gender stigma because right now it’s not looking too good for them. Page to Stretton, Stretton to Burrow, Burrow gets hit by a precise Bludger from Weasley; I mean, look at the swing on those boys. I think we’re all waiting for summer to come around and getting a close look at their-”

McGonagall looms over you as Fred glances at you and winks, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle your laugh.

“their… bat work without all this cloud. Johnson has the Quaffle, drops it down to Bell, who veers up, confusing Page and scores! That’s fifty-zero to Gryffindor; up twenty in under a minute! It’s in these early moments that you really start to see the tactics shine; Gryffindor have stuck to their tried-and-tested tactics, although it’s hard to beat such natural talent, and Ravenclaw seem to have been watching too many big league games – this isn’t exactly international-level Quidditch.”

“Ms Y/L/N.”

Lee took back the megaphone with a grin. “Ravenclaw has possession. Davies passes to Stretton, Stretton to Burrow, Burrow back to Stretton – these Ravenclaws are really keeping the Gryffindor Chasers on their toes as they fly down the pitch. Davies pulls forward, losing Spinnet and gets the ball off Stretton. Davies shoots—and Wood intercepts, knocking it straight into Johnson’s waiting hands with the back of his broom! Now that man, as I’m sure Y/N will agree, is certainly a Keeper.”

You rolled your eyes at his terrible pun, perfectly content to sit and watch as Lee gulped at the sight of McGonagall’s thunderous face. “Johnson speeds down the pitch, Weasley knocking a Bludger straight out of her path and into Samuels, Johnson shoots and scores! That’s seventy-zero to Gryffindor. And Page sends the ball to Burrow, who fumbles and drops it straight down to Spinnet, Spinnet passes to Bell, Bell shoots and scores yet again! Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter’s really putting it through its paces now, see it turn - Chang’s Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolt’s precision balance is really noticeable in these long—”

 “JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS?  GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!”

You reluctantly took the megaphone from McGonagall, who scowled at the pair of you. “Ravenclaw seems to have finally woken up and is demonstrating that tenacity and skill we’ve come to expect from them. Davies grabs the Quaffle, and he’s off like a shot! Look at him dance around the Gryffindor defence—oh, but wait! He’s got Katie Bell on his tail! Roger makes a daring pass to Stretton! He’s moving in—oh, and a well-placed Bludger from Ingleburn sends Wood scrambling. Ravenclaw scores; that’s ten-eighty to Ravenclaw. Davies is back to prove that an all-male lineup might be traditional for a reason.”

You glanced at Professor McGonagall, whose lips were pressed so tightly together they had turned white and winced. Well, she hadn’t interrupted you which you took as your sign to continue.

“Wood passes to Bell, Bell to Spinnet, Spinnet to Johnson, and—oof, that’s a nasty Bludger from Samuels. Ravenclaw’s Beaters certainly aren’t playing around. Burrow has possession, he shoots, and—what a brilliant save by Wood! You’d think he’d been practicing in his sleep! Johnson with the Quaffle, tearing down the pitch, leaving the Ravenclaw Chasers trailing in her dust—she shoots, and Page saves with a textbook example of Starfish and Stick. I have to say that these new fancy moves do look impressive when they actually pull them off.”

“Y/L/N.”

“What, professor? I’m being complimentary!”

“Switch.”

With a grumble, you handed the megaphone back to Lee. “Ravenclaw in possession, Burrow shoots and scores. That’s thirty-eighty to Ravenclaw, putting Gryffindor now only fifty points ahead. And Potter has set his eyes on something, speeding towards the Gryffindor goals with a deep concentration on his face; and look at that Firebolt go, it moves like a dream—Chang blocks Potter—HIT HER, HARRY—”

A cough from McGonagall interrupted Lee and he bit back some more colourful language. “And it looks like he’s lost sight of the Snitch again. Wood seems to be advising for some more aggressive manoeuvres; Y/N might know a thing or two about how he works off this pent-up rage off pitch.”

You elbowed Lee, who let out a muffled oof and allowed McGonagall to tug the megaphone out of his hands. McGonagall passed it back to you, and you picked up where Lee had left off. “With that Firebolt of his, Potter would have absolutely wrecked Chang and her Comet. The Quaffle is still in play though as both Seekers return to circling the pitch. It’s clear that Chang’s tactic is to rely on Potter to find the Snitch for her—although with a broom like hers, it’s a brave and perhaps foolish move… Potter dives! Has he seen the Snitch? No! Potter expertly executes a Wronski Feint—maybe Ravenclaw should be taking notes on how to execute high-level manoeuvres from him— Potter is off after something again, Chang hot on his tail—what’s that? DEMENTORS ON THE PITCH?! Potter has just executed one of the most flawless Patronuses I have ever seen—this boy is thirteen and executes O.W.L. level wand work with more skill than most of Fifth Year. Perhaps Potter might want to sit my Defence Against the Dark Arts exam for me—”

“Y/L/N!”

“But Potter hasn’t let the Dementors bother him, he’s almost there—POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS 200 TO 30! AN ASTOUNDING VICTORY BY GRYFFINDOR!”

You turned and pulled Lee into a hug, both jumping with glee as Madam Hooch’s whistle echoed round the stands. The air filled with roars from the Gryffindor crowd as they made their way onto the pitch to where the Gryffindor team was celebrating. You pulled back, pressed a kiss to Lee’s cheek and then looked him dead in the eye. “This does not mean I forgive you for your comments today.”

“Aw, come on, they were funny.”

You glared at him.

“Ms Y/L/N,” you turned towards Professor McGonagall’s voice. “I’m afraid I don’t think this arrangement will be suitable for the next match.”

You bowed your head. “I’m sorry to hear that, professor. I greatly enjoyed myself though.”

She sniffed. “Yes, well, your commentary today was both lacking in impartiality and focus.”

You shared a grin with Lee and chorused a “Sorry, professor” before running out of the stands and down to the pitch.

--

“Interesting commentary work today.” Oliver slipped into the empty spot next to you on the sofa, passing you a drink as he did, and you murmured a soft thanks.

“Well, Lee and I had a deal that I would be as poor a commentator as possible to convince Professor McGonagall to allow him sole control of the commentary again. I did enjoy myself though.”

Oliver laughed. “All of it?”

“Well, when I was speaking.” You shot a half-hearted glare at Lee, who merely smirked back at you. “Lee does enjoy the attention of the megaphone. But you know, I think it’s important to raise awareness about the lack of gender diversity on Ravenclaw’s team; it’s quite shocking really.”

Oliver just laughed at you, and you flushed, blaming the alcohol for the pink in your cheeks. Definitely wasn’t anything else. At all. And you refused to be the one to bring up Lee’s comments. Oliver could make that move if he fancied, but you’d laid your cards out perfectly clearly.

You sipped at your drink, coughing as it scorched your throat. “What the hell is in this?”

Oliver shrugged. “Fred’s concoction.”

You froze and looked up at your very intoxicated friend, who was intently pouring Ogden’s Old into a bucket. And then at the empty bottles scattered around him. “I don’t think I want to know what’s in this.”

“Probably for the best.”

You hummed in response, glancing at Oliver out of the corner of your eye, only to find him watching you intently. You frowned into your cup. Then winced a mouthful down, using it to bolster that Gryffindor courage you always seemed to lose around him, and made eye contact with him.

“Do I have something on my face?” Somehow you managed to confront him with the perfect level of nonchalance and teasing, or at least it felt as if you had. You couldn’t quite tell right now but judging by the pink tinging the tips of his ears, you had pulled it off.

“Uh, no,” he stuttered, tongue tripping over itself as he worked to dig himself out of the hole. “I.. Just... You look good tonight, Y/N.”

You blinked. Of all the things to come out of Oliver’s mouth, that hadn’t been what you were expecting. And then your brain caught up with itself and you felt all of your blood relocate itself to your face.

“Thanks,” you murmured, slightly frozen to the spot. Drink. You needed more drink. You were far too sober to be smooth and seductive right now. You eyed the rest of your cup, took a deep breath and then polished it off, to the sound of whooping as Fred caught your movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Fred tutted, stumbling over to you with a fresh glass in hand. “No empties allowed here!”

You rolled your eyes at him, accepting the cup nonetheless and raising an eyebrow when he continued to hover over you with an expectant look. Oliver shifted awkwardly next to you and Fred eyed him, eyebrows knitting together as the cogs squeaked round in his brain.

“Hm.” Was all he offered, finished off with a dramatic turn, robes whirling round him.

How strange. You said as much to Oliver, who just nodded, abnormally reticent around you, and you wrinkled your nose.

“Y/N.” Your name burst out from his lips, and he looked almightily like he was regretting saying it. Slowly, you nodded, tilting your head to the side and letting your hair fall away from your neck as you did. “What Lee said today…”

You froze, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. His eyes snapped to the movement and then back up to your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as the silence stretched, and you felt far too warm all of a sudden, deeply aware of the fire roaring away and the alcohol racing through your blood.

"What about it?" you asked, voice softer than you intended. You had meant to come across as bold and all devil-may-care, but inside your nerves were screaming. If Lee had destroyed your friendship with his words today, you were going to kill him. Break out your nastiest Bat-Bogey-Hex. Because you didn’t mind if he didn’t like you (that was a lie), as long as you had him as your friend.

Oliver cleared his throat, looking for all his worth as if a particularly rabid Bludger was racing towards him. His hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing awkwardly. "Lee... well, he wasn’t completely off the mark, was he?"

You blinked. It seemed as if your blood had decided to permanently relocate to your face, which was fine, totally fine, apart from the fact that you hadn’t drunk enough for that to be a good enough excuse. "Which part, exactly? Lee had a lot to say today."

Oliver exhaled sharply, then laughed quietly. You didn’t know what the joke was. You felt sick. Maybe you had drunk too much. He leaned forward slightly and it took everything in you not to flinch away, because you knew what was coming and you really, really couldn’t stomach the words you knew were about to exit his mouth, the ‘oh, you’re like a sister to me’ and the laugh you’d have to muster in response.

"The part where he said, well," he chuckled again, “that I’m particularly appreciative of your brains and beauty.”

You smiled half-heartedly, knowing it didn’t reach your eyes, hoping you’d have an excuse to run away as soon as possible and then avoid Oliver for the rest of the year. Because it would be fine, he was graduating, and you could not pretend that he didn’t exist.

"I wasn’t planning on saying anything," Oliver admitted, his voice low, almost a murmur, "but watching you today, laughing, talking with everyone... I couldn’t help it. And now I’m sitting here, just... regretting not telling you sooner."

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The room spun slightly—maybe from Fred’s drink, maybe from the confession hanging in the air. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You shut your mouth again.

"I’m sorry," he continued quickly, jumping into the silence you’d left hanging in the air. Fuck. You’d left it too long to respond, what was the right thing to say? "And I don’t want to make things weird. If you don’t feel the same, it’s fine. I just—" He paused, running a hand through his hair, and part of you just wanted to grab him and pull him in for a kiss. "I couldn’t sit here tonight and not tell you anymore."

You stared at him. Come on, you were meant to be witty and quick with your words, not speechless with your mouth glued shut as the man you’d be pining after for months confessed his attraction to you. You’d dreamed of hearing something like this almost every single night before you went to sleep (you did not care if that was unhealthy) but now you felt so, so unprepared.

"Oliver," you started, your voice breaking ever so slightly, "I..." You faltered for a second, eyes widening at the sight of him wincing. "I fancy you too. I mean, obviously.”

“Obviously?” He echoed slowly.

“Yeah, obviously. I mean, I thought you knew already.” You laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck.

He stared at you. And then, a slow smile spread across his face, the kind that made your heart flip. "Really?"

"Really," you nodded, heart thudding in your chest as you waited for someone to jump out and yell that it was all some kind of prank. You knew none of your housemates would ever be that cruel, but really this had to be some kind of dream. A particularly vivid drunk dream.

For a second, neither of you said anything, just sitting there in the glow of the fire. And then you stuck out your arm. “Pinch me.”

“What?” Oliver asked with a bemused smile.

“Pinch me. I just need to be sure that I’m not dreaming right now.”

Then, with a laugh that was finally genuine, Oliver reached out and lightly pinched your arm. “Feel real enough to you?”

You blinked at him, a grin breaking its way across your face. And then he took your hand, his fingers warm and steady against yours, and you forgot how to breathe again.

“Yeah,” you murmured after a good half second, realising that he was still waiting for a response while you attempted to deal with the fact that he was holding your hand. Merlin, what were you, eight in the playground again? “So.”

“So,” Oliver echoed teasingly, lips pulling up into a smirk that made you want to snog him silly. “What do you say about going to Hogsmeade together? Just the two of us, of course.”

You took a breath, just to calm the fluttering butterflies that had only just started to settle down again. “I’d love that.”

A shaky breath left you as you beamed into your cup, trying to hide the giddy grin threatening to split your face in two. Oliver laughed quietly and you glanced up, feeling slightly embarrassed at the look of amusement on his face, but it was far too outweighed by your glee to even properly register.

“I guess we’ve got Lee to thank, haven’t we?" he said, grinning at you with a squeeze of your hand.

"Let’s not tell him that, though," you groaned, leaning your head against his shoulder. "He doesn’t need a bigger head than he already has."

Oliver chuckled, and his thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles. "Deal."

[rationaliity]

blade, ratio, gallagher, sampo, welt yang, and nanook with a shorter s/o

yeah !!! i'm trying something new-ish !! its all mostly fluffy, gallagher's is slightly suggestive and so is welt's. keep in mind of course that they'll all love you regardless and theyre just giants, so you could be like damn near six foot and still be shorter than them. this aint just for 5'0 people ( although it was written by a shortie so,,, yeah ) GENDER NEUTRAL READER !!!

BLADE —

oh you're shorter than him ?

honestly he doesn't even notice half of the time

it's not like he's always searching for someone who's shorter than him so he can take care of them or whatever

it was just life that you were shorter than him and he wasn't really one to make a fuss about anything

but that doesn't mean that he's absolutely immune to your charms, in any case

sometimes he sees that you're struggling with something and that he can help you

other times he finds you to be rather useful yourself

especially when trying to hide when out on a mission, he finds that your height allows you to be a little bit more conspicuous than him

something that he doesn't necessarily mention, but you've come to expect it at this point

if you're out on a mission together, you can best believe that you're the one sneaking into wherever you are while blade is laid low behind you ready to strike if you failed

he'll always always always praise you for your efforts and your abilities to hide in plain sight from others

not necessarily your height, but just your skills in general

sometimes if you have the time to be a little slow with how you moved about, he'd pull you closer and give you a little kiss on the top of your head

affection wasn't necessarily his thing, but if you were doing such a good job helping him, who was he to deny you

you were putting your life down on the line for the mission. this was something that he never took for granted, even though he often went in head first without caring because he didn't have to put down his life for elio's path. he was actively going down this path to reach that finality, but you weren't. you forced him to go about missions with more finesse, because he was absolutely terrified of failing you. often, he would be there as a backup, ready to spring in at a moment's notice if you needed him to be there. you were shorter than him, so you were usually tasked with infiltration, just like now. you could clearly see the goal - it was right there in reach. but of course, with many things, there was also guards hanging around the area, protecting the gem and keeping you at arm's length away from it. of course, blade wanted to cut everyone down and just take it by force, but he knew that wasn't how you did things, and that cutting them down would mean that there was a high chance that more guards would come running. and he couldn't bring himself to put you in that kind of danger, so he let you make a plan in your head. he watched as you snuck past the guards, using things that would show his taller, larger form as a perfect hiding spot for yourself. when you snatched the gem right under their noses, and you came back to him, he couldn't stop himself from grinning a little bit. " good job, " blade whispered once you were in a private area together, allowed some time off. " maybe your height helps you out in certain situations. " " yea- hey ! are you calling me short ? " " yes, " he leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. " but it's cute. you're cute. " you let out a quiet little sigh, but you eventually wrapped your arms around him, feeling the man stiffen up in your arms at the sudden contact, but he soon melted within your touch. " mm. whatever you say, bladie. i just don't think you'd be very good at sneaking around. " he chuckled, sitting his head on the top of your head. " i think you're right about that. "

RATIO —

ratio does not and will not care about your height

your physical attributes were never what attracted him to you in the first place

although you being so attractive definitely helped, but he wouldn't openly admit that unless you held him by gunpoint

he liked the breath of fresh air that you brought into his life

how vibrant and charming you were, effortlessly piercing through his walls with such expertise he almost didn't want to trust it at first

but he still treated you how he treated most people, including scolding you when you did something wrong, and scowling when you suggested something that he didnt want to do

however, there was one thing you could do that made him fold ever single time

the way you looked up at him through your pretty lashes, pouting as you tilted your head up to look at him and whispered your little apology

you just looked so.. cute like that, he can't stop himself from letting out a fake sigh of annoyance before telling you not to do it again and ultimately letting you have your way

there was nothing he could do against you, he had no defenses to protect himself against your pouting

especially when you had to tilt your head so high up just to look at him

if he didn't know better he would be sure that you did this one purpose just to get your way

ratio called your name once from downstairs, and you froze immediately in place, knowing that tone in his voice. he was disappointed in you for something, and you weren't sure what it was, but you were sure that you would get your ear chewed out and that you would get another lecture on your behavior. you debated on whether or not you should just give up easily and listen to him, and resign yourself to listening to his lecture, or you could pretend to be asleep and get out of his disappointment for just a little while, but ratio was not a man who forgot, and you knew that well by now. no matter how much you wanted to run, you knew that you had to own up to what you did. after he called you the second time, you slowly walked downstairs, finding him in the living room, his legs crossed as he read a book, his reading glasses on. " you called me, love ? " you asked nervously, sitting beside him. " are you forgetting something important ? " ratio closed his book, resting his head on his hand that sat on the armchair as he looked at you, his eyes narrowed. you thought a moment, before your eyes widened, and you rushed into the kitchen. you'd completely forgotten that you were baking some cupcakes ! what happened ? you found them already taken out, cooling on top of the oven. " o-oh no, i'm so sorry, ratio- " you apologized profusely. you turned around, just to find him right behind you, his eyes trained on yours. " your little mistake could've ended badly, " ratio shook his head, and you could feel the guilt creeping up into you, knowing that you had messed up, and now you were paying for it. " you're very lucky i had an eye on it. " you pouted, feeling both embarrassed and guilty that you'd forgotten something like this, feeling like you were about to cry, the hot tears welling in your eyes. you looked up at him through your lashes, unsure how to convey your sincere regret. " i'm so sorry, veritas. " ratio stiffened for a moment, looking into your eyes, and he felt his resolve crumble. he couldn't be mad at you when you looked up at him like that. his hand found its way on the side of your cheek, gently caressing the side of your face. " just.. don't do it again, okay ? "

GALLAGHER —

oh man he thinks you're cute

your height was just part of your charm

it wasn't necessarily a make or break thing where you were required to be shorter than him

but he had to admit.. you were absolutely adorable when you wanted something from him

particularly when you wanted to kiss him, and the lengths that you would go to get a kiss from him

( one that he was willing to give you, but he would make you work for it a little first. he's a tease like that )

he'd watch you with his arms crossed as you looked up at him and asked him for a kiss

and when he would say come get it, you would stand up on your tippy toes and try to kiss him

but he would just lean backwards so you couldn't reach him

then you would pout, and your brain would think about all that you could do to get that kiss that you so desperately want from him

sometimes you were silly with it, sometimes you weren't

sometimes you would grab one of the bar stools and use that to add to your height to kiss him

sometimes you would just grab him by his collar and pull him down for a kiss

sometimes you would use your charm to get him to cave and finally give you what you wanted

it really just depended on the day, something that he was always eager to find out

" gallagher, " you called out, approaching him from behind the bar, waving at him excitedly. he looked up at you, his hands busied as he cleaned the rocks glasses, the towel in his hand buffing out any fingerprints on the pristine glasses, making them look just as perfect as penacony itself. you'd come to share some good news with him about your own job, but the way his messy hair was in his face made your heart swell just a little bit, and you smiled, looking up at him through your lashes. he knew exactly what you wanted without you even asking, and all gallagher did was hum in response. " sorry, honey, i'm a lil busy right now, " his gaze flickered from the glass in his hands to you, and then back to the glass. " maybe you'll get a kiss later, yeah ? " you pouted, hoping that you wouldn't have to go through this again, but also secretly rather enjoying this little game that the two of you played. you leaned forward, your hand on his shoulder for support as you tried to kiss him, but he just leaned away from you with a small chuckle escaping his chest. " maybe later, babe. " he shrugged you off, and you just let out a loud sigh. " come on, pleasseee ? " you begged a little, before finally deciding that, fine. he can have it his way. you knew the bar would be closing soon, and that no one would be in, probably. so you just hopped on top of the bar, your hand holding onto his shirt to keep him close, your legs spread slightly so he was as close as possible. " i've got to close the bar, " gallagher tried to half-heartedly tried to reason with you, but his hands were already gripping the bar beneath you, and he was already leaning in for a kiss, his lips grazing over your lips. " you know better than this. " the glasses, you figured, could be cleaned later.

SAMPO —

haha what a loser

imagine being shorter than the great sampo koski

your height is something that he will point out every single chance he gets

ooh he's so much bigger and stronger than you, of course you needed him

it only made sense that you were dating him, he was soooo perfect for you in every way

yeah it helped his ego, and yeah he wasn't going to let it go easily

no matter how much you pouted and complained about his inflated ego and sense of self worth

he would dramatically announce that he was going to do something for you

practically declaring to the world how thankful and loving you should be that he was so benevolent to do these things for you

he's just looking for some praise and a little attention, something that you both knew well

and if you point out how much he just craves your recognition, he'd turn into a sopping wet cat

sampo did the thing for you !! you should say thank you and give him a kiss !!

that's how relationships are supposed to work and he did the thing that he was supposed to do

its only natural that he would want a reward for all of his efforts

even if he spent the last thirty minutes teasing you about your height

" you're just so short, " sampo teased, playfully ruffling your hair as the two of you walked down the streets of belobog while you glanced down at the map in your hands, looking for what you had assumed would be a wild goose chase because sampo said that if you found it, it would make the two of you rich beyond belief. of course, there was a solid chance that it was something that he stole and he was just using this as an excuse to be close to you for a little while. seriously, what are you going to do with him sometimes ? you sighed, shaking your head to shrug off his hand from your head, trying not to get frustrated with him, but he made it so hard sometimes. especially with his nonstop teasing and jokes, like he knew that he was getting on your nerves and yet he continued to do exactly what he was doing regardless. " sampo, are you required to make fun of me every single second of every day ? " " come on, now, doll, i'm not making fun of you ! i'm just pointing out a fact ! you need me, right ? you need me and you can't live without me, and you love me so much. " sampo shot you a cheeky little grin, making your face heat up just a little bit. he was right, but he didn't have to say it like that. " samp- " just as you began to speak, the map you were holding blew out of your hands with a strong gust of wind, flying high up in the air, far too high for you to catch it, even though you did try to reach for it. sampo, however, grabbed the map with ease, oh-so gently place it back into your hands. " see, my point is proven by the winds themselves ! you need me to help you when things fly out of your hands ! " sampo declared victoriously, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side while he walked. you let out an audible sigh, but leaned into him, deciding that he had done well enough. " thank you, sampo. although, we're putting this little treasure hunt on hold, and we're going to grab a snack. i'm hungry, and i have a sneaking suspicion that we aren't going to be rich by the end of the day. "

WELT YANG —

welt does his absolute best not to point out the height difference between the two of you

he knew that sometimes height was a sensitive point so he wouldn't say anything that he thought would bring you discomfort

although, secretly, it's a point of endearment from you

especially when he has to help you out with things, like reaching the top shelf or picking you up a little bit so you could see over a crowd

it made him feel useful and helpful, a feeling that he loved

he liked that you didn't hesitate to ask him when you needed help, no matter what it was

because you were his partner, and he loved you dearly

he'd do anything that you needed him to do, happily

but his absolute favorite thing was when he does things for you without you asking

and then he gets to see your happy face beaming at him while you said thank you

and, as a reward for his kindness, maybe you'll stand up on your tippy toes

and use his shoulders to keep yourself steady as you kiss his cheek

and maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to wrap his arms around you and pull you in for more kisses

what ? he doesn't indulge in himself all too often, he deserves it sometimes, he thinks

the astral express had stopped at a world just for a little while to have a small break. after the events of the last world, you all desperately needed some time to rest and take your minds off of these things. the three trailblazer kids were all out and about, no doubt getting into some trouble no matter how many times someone told them just to enjoy their stays. himeko had left to go ' check up on the coffee shops in town ' as she put it, but you were nearly sure it was just to give you and welt some time to spend together alone, since it very rarely happened. there was almost always someone that you had to take care of within the express, and he always had something else to do, too. not that either one of you minded, since you truly did love everyone on the express. you were up early, making a cake for everyone for when they came back. you knew welt was still in the bedroom, probably just waking up. you had made the cake pretty much on your own, there was just one thing that you needed, that you couldn't find no matter how hard you were looking. you just needed to find some candles to make it look special. who cares if it wasn't a birthday ? you finally found them on the top shelf, and you were almost out of options, about to just climb up on the counters to get it. when welt's body pressed up against yours from behind, his hand on your shoulder as he reached up and grabbed the candles you were wanting. " were you looking for this ? " he asked, handing it to you. " yeah ! thank you, you're the best ever. " despite him just giving them to you, you sat the little package down, leaning against his chest, your hands holding onto his arms. " whatever would i do without you ? " " climb up on the shelf to grab the candles, " welt joked softly, leaning down to bury his face in your shoulder, gently kissing the smooth skin. you laughed softly, turning around in the man's arms to face him, your back pressed against the counter. " mm. yeah, you're right. i could've died. " you stood up on your tippy toes, your arms wrapped around his shoulder as you kissed him gently on his cheek. " thank you, welt. for looking after me. " welt hummed, his hand moving up from your waist to your cheek, tilting your head up so he could press a hungry kiss on your lips. you had a little while until anyone was back home, and you two had an idea how you could spend that time while the cake was baking in the oven.

NANOOK —

to be quite fair,, they're an aeon

everything is going to be shorter than them

you could be the tallest person of your race and you would still be an ant to them as long as they were showing themself as the aeon of destruction

for you, though, it was more often that they had a shorter, more human form

with a little less golden blood dripping down their torso, and a little more legs

unfortunately for you, you were shorter than them in this form, too

who would've guess that they'd be huge even in their human form

they don't really care honestly because they feel like mortals like you should be shorter than them anyways

like a fucked up power play kind of thing

they're a god, you're not. of course you should be shorter than them

they're a very serious being, and its very rare for them to crack any jokes

but they will sometimes use your head as an armrest while just talking normally to another

kinda like they were branding you as theirs ?

after all, who's going to mess with someone who the aeon of destruction is using as their armrest ?

they like how it annoys you, but you won't do anything about it

you'll just sit there and pout while they publicly claim you as theirs

" my liege, " phantylia the undying bowed at the presence of her aeon, a sight that almost no emanators go to see regularly. nanook was always doing something, always at the edge of a solar system ready to reign destruction upon it. to see nanook engaging in anything that wasn't ultimately tearing worlds apart with their bare hands was a rare sight indeed, especially for those who didn't travel the cosmos by their side. you would have to be unfortunate enough to come across them, as phantylia was now. when she picked her head up, she finally took notice of the small human standing next to the aeon, and she flinched for a second, as if she weren't expecting there to be anyone there. " oh- my liege, you have- " " company, yes, " they grumbled out, their large hand gesturing to you, although their words were cold as they regarded you. " do not bother to get acquainted. " phantylia nodded, immediately assuming that you were going to be killed by nanook, or they were forcing you to watch as they burned your home world. perhaps, even, forcing you to hold the lighter as they did so. she almost felt bad for you. almost. she wondered if she would be able to toy with you, too. surely nanook would indulge in one of their emanator's whims, no ? before she could voice her question, her eyes flitted towards nanook, and she noticed that they had their arm resting on your head, and your arms were crossing, looking up at them with a pout on your face. " nanook- " you whined, glaring at the taller aeon. " do i look like an armrest to you ? " " no. in fact, you look less than, " they commented dryly, their gaze turning to you, and phantylia swore she saw something akin to affection in his golden eyes. " but i suppose you offer me a little usefulness from time to time. " " all of this time travelling together and you still treat me like a little lapdog, " you shook your head, and although you were still frustrated with them, you turned to phantylia, giving her an almost warm smile. " sorry about that, they're... weird. it's nice to meet you. " the moment nanook's gaze fell upon her, and phantylia felt like she had been sliced through with a hundred blades just for talking to you, her heart retching in terror from the shear intimidation alone, she figured that it was better for her own self that she didn't answer you. when you were alone that day after phantylia left, you were in their arms, watching with mild amusement as people tried the craziest shit just to get their attention. " why do you do that every single time someone approaches us ? you're always picking fights with the people who probably have at least not horrible intentions. " what's mine is mine and i don't share, " they replied plainly, their attention focused elsewhere. " and there's no point in you introducing yourself again if they'll just be dead before you can remeet. "

[oceane4loveu]

𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. ݁₊ ⊹ ✩

Heyyyyy starfish! So now we're going to talk about how to create an alter ego and how it can be beneficial.

What is an alter ego?

Expression borrowed from Latin. A second self. A person to whom one grants absolute confidence and who is charged with acting in one's place. We also say colloquially: It's my alter ego, It's another me. So the alter ego is just another version of us that helps us reach a goal, some celebrities also use alter egos to evolve in their lives:

Beyoncé- Sasha Fierce: Beyoncé created the alter ego Sasha Fierce to express a bolder and more confident version of herself on stage.

Nicki Minaj- Roman Zolanski: Nicki Minaj has several alter egos, including Roman Zolanski, an eccentric and provocative character who represents a wilder side of her personality.

Lady Gaga- Jo Calderone: Lady Gaga has portrayed Jo Calderone, a male character, in some performances, exploring themes of gender fluidity and identity.

Now it's time to define the why. The why: the purpose of the alter ego, why I create it. Is it to leave weaknesses, adopt personality traits, etc. IT MUST BE STRONG, THAT'S WHAT KEEPS YOU CONSISTENT.

Then choose New traits. Things I miss or struggle with. Personality, values, hobbies. Why I admire certain people. understand every little insignificant detail of my alter ego. How would he act in a stressful situation. How does he approach his career, his dating. What is his state of mind in a romantic relationship. How does he act if he feels mistreated and angry. How would he act if he fell in love. How would he fix a bad day, what does a good day look like for him. If he speaks in public, how does he approach it? Funny, serious, is there any preparation, freestyle. Here are some steps to help you (I do them to create my alter ego)

1.MYSELF

My aura

My mindset

My confidence

My personality traits

What do I look like?

What do I dress like?

2.MONEY

How financial abundant I am?

Where do I invest my money?

What kind of things do I splurge on?

How do I save my money?

What does my money get me? Is it the freedom of time, is it luxury goods, is it travel...?

How do I get this money?

How do I make it work for me?

3. CAREER AND OPPORTUNITIES

What do I want my job to look like?

How often do I work?

Am I my own boss or do I work for someone else?

In what industry do I work?

What is my work / life balance like?

What does my office (workplace) look like?

What city am I working in?

Do I want to be around celebrities / in front of a camera / do something creative / fly over the world / win awards for what I do / be able to retire early, etc?

4. FRIENDS AND FAMILY

How is my relationships with my family?

How often do I see them?

How many effort do I put in them?

Can I treat them all the time?

How is my relationships with my family?

How often do I see them?

How are my friends like?

5. ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

How am I treated in my romantic relationship?

How do I feel loved?

What love language am I receiving?

What me and my partner do?

How do we spend time together?

Do we move in?

Do we get married?

Do we have kids?

What do our dates look like?

What do I do for them?

What is our dynamic?

6. HOUSE / LIVING

The city that I live in

What does my house / apartment look like?

What does it feel like?

What do I gain from it? Is it sense of escape?

How many room do I have in it?

How is my closet?

How many bathroom do I have?

What it is a special things I have in my house / apartment?

7. HOBBIES AND HAPPINESS

How do I add fulfillment into my life on an everyday basis?

What are my hobbies?

What are my routines?

8. pleasure

How do I spend my weekends? How do they look like? Is it cozy at home, traveling the world, partying with my friends, etc?

What do I eat?

What kind of exercises do I do?

Choose your avatar: how your alter ego appears. Give a different name, change appearance, hairstyle, makeup, clothes.

Values ​​and core identity. Think about their story. What is important to them. Where do they want to go in life. What they are not as interested in. Preferences, strengths, what motivates them. What has been their story so far. Maybe they have always been successful, have good memories. Very good athlete, A+ student, etc.

The When. When to bring out the alter ego. At university, at work, in meetings or every day. For this part here are some methods that can help you bring out your alter ego:

"HOT ME METHOD"

- "What would a hot me do?"

- don't idolize your alter ego, it's not better than you.

- If necessary, the alter ego can have a set time and date (turn it off after the necessary time has passed)

- Practice:

- How does the sexy version of yourself walk, talk, and dress?

- Values? Habits? similar to the "steps"

- what bold moves have you been wanting to try? - This method is not just about appearance, it is more about changing your mindset and actions

- Implementing habits, developing skills and intelligence, being able to speak with confidence

- NOT a subliminal that maximizes appearance, NOT forcing parts you feel uncomfortable with (wearing a crop top, pleasing people, etc.)

"BUILD YOUR SELF-CONCEPT"

- Self-Concept (SC) = how we see ourselves (REALLY believe about ourselves, not what we say)

- "I am blessed/cursed", "My opinions matter/don't matter to people", "I am lucky/unlucky", etc.

- Alter ego can help expand what you think you deserve/what is normal for you

- Consciousness = perception = reality

- Believe that you HAVE THE POWER to change, you have the power to change your personal reality

Now let's talk about my alter ego! Her name is soo-ah which is a Korean name that means Beautiful Oceans. Why did I choose this name? Because my first name also means ocean so I thought it was the perfect name for my alter ego.

As for my alter ego, she is introverted but has a group of lovely friends, she is funny and laughs a lot, she has a mysterious aura, she does her dream job, she travels and has a lot of hobbies, she takes care of herself, she heals her trauma, has a healthy relationship, she reads a lot, she does the best for herself…

I made a playlist of music that reminds me of her that I will listen to every morning to help me feel like her. I prefer high vibration music to stay motivated because the songs of the weeknd make me less energetic I find.

To visualize what my alter ego could look like, I used the everskies app and created a simple vision board

That's all! On Monday when I go to work I'm going to give way to my alter ego and see how things evolve! I hope this helps you!

ﾒ𝟶𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞

[altruistichellhound]

Beastars Boyfriend Head cannons!

I’ll be doing a separate post for the shishigumi. Let me know if you want anyone added to this.

I made this as non specific and gender neutral as I could. I wanted everyone to read this and imagine themselves as whatever person/animal you see yourself as.

Legoshi

Legoshi cannot control his tail around you. Smile at him? furious wagging. Laugh in the sweetest of ways? furious wagging. Kiss him? He’s taken off like a helicopter with how fast his tail is going.

Absolutely loves being close to you! Cannot get enough of your scent, breathes it in more than the air around him.

Territorial of you, anyone looks at you and he’s pissed. Not that you can tell, or anyone else really. Isn’t outright jealous/confrontational unless you are out right disrespected. Absolutely not afraid of getting in fights for you.

When Legoshi is comfortable he will go on and on about his interests. He is so incredibly smart, especially when it comes to bugs. At this point you’re pretty much an entomologists.

Teaches you about the way of the sea and some of the seas language. (You’ll probably be pronouncing it wrong the same as him..)

At the beginning of your relationship he found it hard to communicate his feelings, now he fully able to express his wants and needs. It works very well for the both of you as he is an incredible listener.

Very oblivious…

Loves taking you on dates, especially private ones like picnics and star gazing.

You>Anything else

Louie

If you don’t come from a deer family of high value you’ll be his secret.

He might not show it with words but lord does this man love you.

Endless, and I really mean endless gifts. You offhandedly mention something you like? Oh what’s this, he bought it for you! He’s out and he sees something that reminds him of you, bought it. “Oh that’s cute!” Boom he bought it.

Secretly likes it when you give him massages. Poor man is so stressed out he needs that extra care. He wants a quiet life with you. One where he can be the beastar but come home to your little cozy home where it’s soft and quiet.

Knows you guys simply cannot exist together but pretends like it’s not reality…

Openly jealous, “I don’t like him”. Tells you when he thinks someone has bad intentions. Tries his best to protect you but sometimes it’s slightly misguided.

Acts like he needs to be the dominant one in the relationship but really likes it when you take control.

A balance of all out luxury dinners and simple little cafes you two like to frequent.

If it comes to it he would give up everything, including his relationship with his father; for you.

Gohin

Works out in front of you totally not on purpose. Flexes his muscles when you just happen to be looking at him.

Gohin is such a tease! Doesn’t matter what it is he’ll make fun of you for it. If you don’t like it he’ll tell you it was just a joke but he takes it very seriously and makes sure not to tease you like that again.

Tries his best to keep you away from his work. If you want to help he will tell you no until you persist so much he caves. While he loves you he cares about your safety more, so much training. He will run you until you colapse; he would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Tea after training/work. He enjoys making you two a drink then sitting and talking about your day between sips.

Even if it doesn’t feel like it I promise you he listens. If he is busy or stressed he will respond with simple, hmm and mhms. However, he heard everyone word and won’t forget what you’ve told him.

At first he’s an awkward kisser, but he’s a quick learner and you’ve never had a better kisser in your life.

You remain the light of his life.

Bill

Childish. Not necessarily a bad thing but sometimes you want to beat him with a stick.

PDA to the max, you’re his and he’s yours. Why shouldn’t the people know? Hold his hand and steal quick kisses please.

Not the best at planning things but he’ll try his best. His goal is to make you happy and have something that will last.

Doesn’t really think about a serious future that much. Not that he doesn’t want to be with you, just that he hasn’t planned ahead enough to really put thought into marriage and a possible family.

This man makes you late to almost everything. Unless it’s the club, he is not on time.

You basically aren’t ever not laughing. He loves to see you smile and squirm around while you laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt. Surprisingly his jokes are actually funny and land quite well.

All his friends know you very well, all he does is brag about how amazing and hot you are.

Jack

The sweetest man to have ever existed.

Had a crush on you for thee longest time before he either got the courage to talk to you or you finally went up to him.

Wants you to be happy, in his mind he can never do enough for you. He doesn’t want you to be happy, he needs it. If you are sad or angry he tries his darnedest to make cheer you up in a way that suits you the best. Listening, taking you out, leaving you alone, really whatever you need he will give.

Snores. Not loud though, sweet little snores and huffs throughout the night. At this point you can’t sleep without hearing him.

Always smells weirdly good. Like it’s unnatural how he always smells the same and it’s never bad. He could sprint three miles and still smell insanely good. When asked about it he just shrugs.

Constantly blushing! He can’t help it around you, doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together.

Collot

You trim his bangs. He lets you but in all honestly doesn’t trust you after you cut them way too short last time. He won’t tell you that though.

Suspiciously calm, makes him a good listener but sometimes it’s frustrating when he doesn’t get mad with you.

Speaking of anger he hasn’t really gotten mad with you. Maybe a few spats here and there but he has never once raised his voice at you.

Worst sleeper in the world! Moved, kicks, loud sleeper, talks. How did he kick you in the face? You don’t know and neither does he. Scares the crap out of you, “He’s coming.” You proceed to violently shake him until he wakes up and reassures you back to sleep.

Really likes playing video games with you or just doing things quietly next to each other.

Riz

Tries his very best to control himself around you after what happened. Really doesn’t matter to him what species you are he’s constantly afraid of hurting you. Cannot let go of you even if he’s afraid.

You on the other hand aren’t afraid of him. He told you what happened and you understood him. He would never hurt you, or so you think.

Protective as hell. Does not matter who it is no one will ever get to you.

Practically worships you. Would kiss the ground you walk on if he could. Lives to serve you, you want something it’s already been done.

Constant cuddles, he always wants to be the big spoon unless he’s sad. Being around you makes him feel powerful knowing in that moment you are untouchable. When you hold him he feels vulnerable, he hasn’t decided if he’s okay with that feeling yet but he knows that it feels good to be the one being protected for once.

Really likes cooking with you and for you.

Pina

Best way to describe him is annoying, but in the best way possible.

Can, and will, talk your ears off. Constantly yapping about something and expects you to listen. He’s offended if you ask him to give you even a second of silence.

Really loves it when you touch his horns.

Best lashes in the room, better than you and he will constantly brag about this. He tells you he’s joking (he’s not).

He’s just a little bit of a freak, “Eat me.” Doesn’t matter if you’re a carnivore or not. “What the hell Pina?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious…

He knows absolutely everything about you. Some things you didn’t even know about yourself! Not only does he know you but he knows everyone else. Tells you all the best gossip and keeps you up to date with rumors even if you don’t care.

Definitely needs someone to keep up with him.

Melon

Crazy but that’s okay!

Would kill someone if you asked him to. Neighbor pissed you off? Gone. Boss is being a dick? Gone. You tend to abuse this fact.

Okay he does not know how to express his love for you. He’s not even sure if what he’s feeling his love. He knows he oddly doesn’t want to hurt you but is that love? Who knows he’s just going with it.

This relationship is pretty much the definition of playing with fire.

You get to see such a different side to him, quiet and maybe even a little soft. Sad maybe? Is it an act? You don’t know but you’ve decided it’s okay not knowing you. Even when you have that nagging feeling that you should care.

Potentially likes you so much because you are very similar to him.

Won’t ever tell you or anyone this but he likes it when you hold him. He also enjoys that you aren’t afraid of his fangs. Will bite you if you let him.

Would both love and hate you even more if you were a hybrid.

Gosha

Biggest softy with you. Would do absolutely anything for you, to him, you are nothing less than the universe.

Thinks you are the most wonderful thing to have ever graced this world. He loves to show you it too. Random gifts, always brings you fresh flowers before your last ones die.

Evening walks are the best with him. As the sun turns the clouds orange and pink he’ll tell you about his adventures as a youth and his previous dreams of becoming the beastar.

The best support you’ll ever have. He whole heartedly believes that you can do anything you set your heart to. Encouraging your passions and making sure whatever you need to meet your goals is there for you to use.

You’ve never felt so safe than right by his side, and rightfully so. No one would even think to mess with you with him around.

Everyone knows you too are together, he’s made sure of that the way he runs around bragging about you.

Yahya

Tries his best to keep you and work separate. This is not only for your safety for also for him. He never expected or wanted a relationship because of his goals but when he saw you he just couldn’t let you go.

Manages balancing you and protecting the world pretty well. Though, he is in fact just a man like everyone else.

Missed dinners often which turns into arguments which ends in mutual apologies and making up.

He is so tired. Needs you to rub his shoulders and lightly scratch his back.

Can’t really sleep but if you tell him stories or hum softly while playing with his mane he knocks right out.

Keeps you out of the public eye because he knows that if he didn’t you’d have a target on your back. Constant security watching you from afar.

Makes sure to provide a good life for you first and foremost, but also is very focused on changing the world. It is a relationship based on understanding on both ends. Compromises have been made.

You are the closest thing to his heart and constantly on his mind.

[luca-just-luca]

Evolve

1k words

Viktor x gn reader

Synopsis: you get initiated into Viktor’s glorious group of salvation.

Contains: lots of details about Viktor’s hex-hand, Czech Viktor, pet names, gn reader. No body type, race, or gender specified at all.

Translations: Drahý: Dear

To dobrý ono dobrý Drahý: it’s okay, it’s alright dear.

Ano: Yes

You feel something cold and flinch, pulling away and standing up straight.

“I-I’m sorry”

A soft chuckle comes from the man standing before you as he waves his hand dismissively.

“It’s alright, I understand why you’re nervous. This is the ehh most usual of activities no?”

You give a shy smile and nod in agreement. True, it wasn’t a particularly normal event to be in this sort of situation, or place. On the inner rims of Zaun, standing before this mage. Half machine half man, he bore kind eyes and a toothy smile-though crooked teeth were hidden behind thin lips as he offered a soft smile of sympathy.

You fidget with your fingers taking a deep breath, finding the floor beneath you suddenly more appealing than the man before you. Despite understanding the circumstances weren’t of the norm, you still felt ashamed for getting scared again. Sure it was only the second time-but it was just a hand. You redirected your gaze, heart rate mellowing as you looked at his hand that he’d pulled back from you. Resting it on his staff, you watched as it settled. Deformed yet beautiful, dark and yet saturated it almost seemed like his hand wasn’t his own-but under his control. It was odd in shape, like when molten glass meets cool water it was abstract yet organic. Glimmers of violet seeping through highlighting his knuckles, and running down to where it met flesh.

Viktor was beautiful, despite how he may see himself you saw a handsome man with an admirable goal. A goal you were happy to be apart of, so why was this so scary?

“Drahý?”

“Hm?”

You looked up again, meeting his eyes this time. His head was tilted slightly to the right, eyes narrowed like he was analyzing you. Focused and determined, you stared back-seeing if you could find anything of who he used to be buried beneath those honeyed eyes.

“I have an idea”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to touch me first? Condition yourself to the feeling in a familiar way before we try again?"

“..yes I. I do think that would help.”

He nods, expression softening. And extends his hand outwards, with his palm up an invitation to hold his hand. You accept, gently setting your hand in his. Your breath hitches as your fingertips find where skin meets inoraganic material. Gently gliding your hand from the base of his palm to his fingertips. The texture feels almost leathery, though corse. Like the feeling of a stone smoothed out by the tides, smooth yet corse in its own way. He was cold-but not freezing. The shimmering violet that ran through his hand, almost like blood in veins glimmered as you pulled your hand back more, as he pushed his fingers upwards. Gently holding your hand as he ran his thumb over forefinger and pinkie. Almost engulfing the rest of your hand entirely. You inhale sharply, suddenly realizing you forgot to breathe and he snickers.

“See? Despite appearances it’s absolutely sa-“

“You’re beautiful”

You blurt out, looking at him with certainty. But the confidence you had crumbles the moment his kind smile melts into a slight smirk. His eyes no longer narrow out of assessment. Your attention snaps back down to his hand.

“Your-your hands I mean. They-I’m not scared because of the way your hand looks. I just am not used to being grabbed by the face and and this type of initiation into things”

“What sort of initiation are you accustomed to?”

You shrug

“Welcome to the team? I guess?”

He scoffs, pull his hand away from you and you have to stop yourself from following it.

“Are we ready to try again?”

“Yeah. Yeah we are..”

“Good.”

You bow your head slightly, closing your eyes. You hear his staff clank for a moment as he steps closer into your space, the smell of oils and metal becoming more prominent. There’s nothing for a moment, and the outstretched silence begins to make you worry. Until something cold presses against your forehead, you flinch-but your eyes remain closed. He chides, accent heavy in a hushed whisper.

“Chh schh to dobrý ono dobrý Drahý

Although his language is foreign, it does give you assurance in an odd way. You try to relax as you feel his fingers press against your face, goosebumps forming as you adjust to the temperature. A faint humming is heard than a whirling sound of something, you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel his fingers push further into your skin. Light flashes behind your closed eyes, and suddenly you become morbidly aware of every bone in your body. Every muscle that’s at work keeping your eyes shut, you’re freezing and burning at once-are you shouting? You can’t hear-can’t see but this feeling it’s visceral. Like you’re being corrupted and cleansed at the same time. Like years of rot and decay that have tied you down finally are swept free, and flowers are pushing their way through your skin to start anew. And just before it becomes too much, it’s over.

You can’t tell your eyes are open, white still bleaching your vision as you blink away tears. You’re no longer standing, no you’re on the floor-your legs hurt-your knees maybe? Something hurts, you’re resting against something cold, but something warmer cradles the back of your head nestling in your hair.

“You did so well.”

Color finally comes back, you’re looking at one of the high walls of his Sanctum. Your fingers twitch, energy still flowing inside of you. You try to respond, to muster up anything close to a word but all that comes out is a confused huff and a breathy whine.

“Shhh shh…it’s okay. You’re okay..you’re one of us now ano?”

Exhaustion and a state of bliss suddenly wash over you. Like you’ve just ran a marathon and fallen into bed for the first time in days. You can feel something metal on your cheek, somewhere on his chest or arm. It was grounding in an odd way, and you could feel him pull back some loose strands of your hair.

“Welcome to salvation drahý”

[snoopyhughes]

walked in and dream came trued it for ya (nh13)

happy summer fic exchange @nol-pat! I hope you love this, my goal was to write a fun, lighthearted, Euro summer fic and I hope that translates into my writing. thank you as always, Demi for hosting this event for our community. @wyattjohnston. title from espresso by Sabrina carpenter :)

This is 1.8k words of pure fluff, strangers to lovers, I tried my best to make this a gender neutral reader so that it's safe for all to read.

You weren't sure that you ever imagined a trip like this.

One of your best friends was getting married to the love of her life, and when she asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, of course, you said yes. When you met Lucy in middle school, you couldn't say you thought that the two of you would be in each other's weddings. The "friendship" started off rocky, with Lucy holding hands with your boyfriend during science lab right in front of you. Lucy however, had no idea he was your boyfriend, and when she found out, she pushed him over and immediately coined you two as best friends. You were apprehensive at first of her outward nature, but soon found out the two of you made a perfect pair.

When Lucy decided to go to NYU for college, you staying closer to your home, neither of you could've imagined that she would've met the love of her life weeks in to her freshman year. Or that the love of her life would just so happen to be New Jersey Devils defenseman John Marino.

John was in his first season with the Devils when Lucy met him at a bar downtown, and the two of them clicked immediately. The two had been dating for a few years when John proposed. A few months later, John was traded to Utah, taking your best friend with him.

Since John's first full season in Utah, you had only seen Lucy once. When Lucy let it slip to John one night that her dream was to get married in Italy, a long lost dream that had gotten lost amongst the piles of student loans and outlandish New York rent fees, John jumped through every hoop to make it happen, and managed to get it all pulled together in a year. This all led you to here, in beautiful Lake Como, clutching your bags at the arrival gate feeling like a fish out of water.

To her credit, Lucy met you at the gate, the two of you embracing in a hug that was so needed after the long months you spent apart. "I missed you so much! I can't believe you're here!" She exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. "I can't believe it either! And I can't believe John paid for my flight," you grumbled in an attempt to hide how guilty you felt. When Lucy told you her and John were to be married in Italy, it took only seconds of her observing the horrified and disappointed look on your face until her and John decided to fund the trip. Lucy paid her share, working as a nurse practitioner now based in Utah, and the two of them didn't flinch before booking your trip. Lucy said it would be "absolutely foolish" to get married without you by her side as one of her bridesmaids. The title of maid of honor was always reserved for her sister, you coming in as a close second.

"Oh! And I have to tell you, I paired you up with Johnny's gorgeous teammate. He's foreign, single, and not to mention, he's the captain." Lucy squealed as you walked out to the rental car, your eyes bugging out. "Oh I'm googling him immediately," you giggled.

----------

The group of wedding party members arrived a few days early to spend some time in Italy exploring the beautiful country before the wedding duties begun. All Lucy informed you of was that you were going to be boating around the water and having lunch at a waterfront restaurant. As you got ready in what you thought was most appropriate for the occasion, your mind drifted to the man you saw on your phone screen yesterday.

When you found Nico on social media, you couldn't believe that Lucy had paired you two together for the wedding festivities. Nico was absolutely stunning. You never felt like a particularly shy person, but you found yourself rehearsing potential conversations, feeling like nothing could prepare you for any sort of interaction you had with the Swiss center man.

When you walked into the lobby of the resort, meeting the rest of the bridesmaids, they all squealed when they saw you, ready for the day on the boat. "Oh my god! You look incredible!" Daphne, Lucy's college roommate squealed, pulling you into a hug, which you had learned was her signature greeting. "Nico isn't gonna know what hit him!" Another bridesmaid had yelled. You shook your head laughing. You knew that Lucy had made it out to seem like you were forlorn, but the truth was that Lucy hated your ex so much that she was determined to set you up right after the breakup. What you felt was enough time to cope with the breakup had added an extra year onto that time, and it was safe to say you were ready to get back in to dating.

When you met the happy couple and the groomsmen at the boat, you weren't sure what to expect. But you can safely say you definitely were not expecting a party yacht, with blaring music, and men who already looked like they had downed a few bottles of champagne. After the boys moaned and groaned about your "late arrival" of 10 minutes, the boat set off.

You snuck away from the hustle and bustle momentarily to watch the views, seated towards the water with your drink of choice, when the man you had been thinking about for the last 24 hours came to greet you. "Y/N?" he asked hesitantly, almost like he wasn't completely convinced it was you. "That's me!" you smiled at him, and when you turned and made eye contact with his smiling face, little did you know the two of you melted like butter in the hot summer sun.

"Wow," he muttered out loud, much to his dismay. Sensing his nerves, you stood up to shake his hand. "Hi! Nice to finally meet you, Nico. I understand we're going to be walking down the aisle together?" you asked with a smile. He took your hand with a shake, albeit a bit clammy, and put his other hand on your forearm, causing goosebumps to arise. You were suddenly grateful for your decision to wear your favorite swimming suit, the one you felt most confident in. You considered leaving it until after the wedding, but no better time than the present.

"Yeah, we are. Have you been in a wedding before?" You asked him with a smile, causing Nico's cheeks to turn pink. "I've been in two weddings before. Best man in one and a groomsman in the other. What about you?" He asked you, trying not to show his nerves. "I've never been in one. I haven't been to many weddings, this is all very new to me." You smiled at him, grateful that you would have his smiling face next to you throughout this journey. You didn't know hardly anyone here, and before you met the other bridesmaids, you were starting to realize how nervous you really were. But as you met the other bridesmaids, the wives and girlfriends of John's teammates past and present, and of course, Nico, you felt much more comfortable with the fact that you had never traveled outside of the country, had never been in a wedding before, and knew virtually no one outside of the bride and groom.

"Hopefully I can keep you good company, make your first wedding very memorable for you." Nico mentioned cheekily, the same blush dusting the apples of his cheeks. "I hope so."

-------

You never doubted that Nico would make the wedding and your trip memorable, but you were surprised at the amount of chivalry he was pulling out. You were so nervous to impress him, but little did you know, Nico had been thinking about you constantly since you met on the boat. Not to mention he spent the rest of the time on the yacht keeping you company, getting you refills of your favorite drink, and bringing you water when the July Italian sun proved to be as bright and as scorching as you had imagined.

You were getting ready with the other bridesmaids, putting on another coat of mascara when you heard a knock on the door. You were the only one doing your makeup at the time, and after a quick scope around the room to make sure none of the girls who were changing were gonna flash the visitor at the door, you opened the door.

A pleasant surprise greeted you: Nico with a bouquet of flowers, looking breathtaking in his soft grey groomsman suit. "These are for you," he mumbled nervously, pushing them towards you with that blush on his cheeks that was becoming very familiar to you. "Thank you, these are gorgeous!" You smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek as a sign of gratitude. Nico had no idea how he was standing on his own two feet at that point. In just a few short days, you had turned him into putty in your hands. He found himself wondering how far the travel would be from where you lived to Newark when the season started.

He bid you a goodbye, the both of you going to finish off getting ready for the wedding and helping the bride and groom respectively to get ready for the walk down the aisle.

When you met Nico at the end of the aisle, the two of you felt your heart stop. And when Nico continued to make eye contact with you during the ceremony, keeping a soft hand on your back throughout the reception, and when the two of you finally joined each other at the end of the night for a dance, you melted into his arms, Nico feeling so lucky to have been paired with you. He felt himself falling hard for you, and you felt the same way.

"Can I convince you to make a trip to Jersey this season? I know Lucy and Johnny aren't there anymore, but I'd like to think you have another reason to come back." Nico asked with his head resting against the top of your head. "Do I?" you teased, causing Nico to laugh. "I'm kidding, I'd love to." When you looked up at him after confirming his plans, seeing the sparkling look in his eye, you only had one more thing to do. The two of you felt the magnetic pull towards each other, your lips finally touching, and you both knew that the two of you were smitten. As Nico rested his hand on your waist and pulled away, seeing John and Lucy smiling at you, everyone had a feeling the four of you would soon find yourself in a similar situation a few years down the road.