#i have absolutely no idea when this conversation takes place but whatever

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | feyd-rautha

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: an arranged marriage with feyd-rautha in the name of reconciling your houses was something you were not expecting, neither was the soft and light way he seemed to behave towards you and only you. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 3k —warnings: arranged marriage, feyd being gentle and calm because the reader is the love of his life (as it was written), probably ooc!feyd (sorry but i just love to see the most savage and feral men fall on their knees for their s/o)

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

Your arranged marriage to Feyd-Rautha had been the reason for House Atreides and Harkonnen to strengthen their alliance, ensuring that neither would stab each other in the back, which was most expected from the Baron. Your Houses had been wavering on a faint thread that separated you from a war and this marriage arrangement had pacted a reconciliation. It had been your parents' idea and obeying your parents was the most important thing for you, right after protecting your family and indeed that was what you were doing, guarding your family.

Your twin brother did not like the idea, he was not very fond of Feyd-Rautha and his House, moreover, he found him rather... repulsive. For Feyd was a savage, a ruthless and bloodthirsty man.

However, he had to admit that, next to him, you would be basically untouchable, after all, it was like having a guard dog, the most possessive and protective dog, a dog that was ready to kill and ravage for you if necessary.

“He's scary.” Paul's voice echoed inside your head as together you walked along the vast hallways of the Harkonnen palace, at the end of it, Feyd-Rautha stood, engaged in a conversation with your parents, forever as stiff and somber as he had been since you had first met him.

“Just look at him, you'll have to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.” Your brother insisted, throwing you a knowing and concerned look. “We can fix this without you having to marry that man, sister. There must be something—”

“Enough.” you interrupted him, finally dragging your eyes from your betrothed to your anxious brother pacing beside you, you made an effort to offer him a reassuring, soft smile, grateful that he was always so caring and concerned about you and your well-being. “There's nothing else we can do. You know about my visions and what they foresee. Our House will not endure if I do not accept this offer.”

“We will do whatever it takes to survive for now.” You added, holding Paul's gaze, noting the sadness and pity behind his dark eyes, and like the good sister you were, you sighed softly, leaning closer to him to bring him some kind of reassurance. “Our turn will come to make our move and win, brother.”

“Whatever it takes.” He echoed, nodding his head, fingers brushing your clasped hand around his forearm, as you were accustomed to do when you walked side by side.

“The marriage will take place two weeks from now.” The Duke's voice gave out the news once you were all inside the assembly room, with the Baron at the head of the table, of course, looking uncharacteristically approving and pleased to hear the announcement.

The massive man showed his approval with a hint of a phantom, twisted smile, plump fingers taping the edge of the black table in front of him. “We will have the princess as a guest in our home for a week and then the na-Baron will visit her home for the last week, prior to her coming to live here.”

He planned the whole thing and there was absolutely no one in the room who had the idiotic courage to be against his command, so, it was settled.

Once you said goodbye to your family and gave a tight and emotional hug to your brother, you were left alone in the dark and gigantic planet of the Harkonnen family, feeling like an outsider, like a small prey surrounded by bloodthirsty predators. Although, the place possessed an indescribable and incomparable beauty, the sun was black, and the light that irradiated was whitish, giving it a beautiful contrast with all the black buildings rising majestically. But the place was rather... depressing, quiet and somewhat eerie, it was nothing like your home.

You soon felt out of place, and everyone who looked at you could see it too. It was as if you had some kind of golden aura, glowing among all the darkness and gloom of the place.

Feyd-Rautha watched you attentively, analyzing every expression and emotion you let be shown across your face, catching the look your eyes possessed, that special little gleam that flashed in your orbs as you admired Giedi Prime as if it were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen in your life, his home.

“Do you like it here, my lady?” His husky, raspy voice managed to snap you out of your trance, and your heart skipped a beat once you trailed your gaze from the horizon beneath the balcony to him, meeting his deep, dark gaze. He always seemed to look at you with those eyes, captivated, as if you were some form of strange spectacle.

And indeed you were, you stood in perfect contrast to the planet, your eyes were bright, lively, your aura was vivacious and hopeful. And because of that, he liked to look at you, study your face, your body language, every little reaction you had in response to something. You were fascinating.

Whenever you entered any room, his deep blue eyes were pulled to you like a magnet, drawn to orbit around you like his planet circling the dark sun.

Feyd noticed out of the corner of his eye how your hands clasped lightly around the balcony fence in front of you, skin contrasting against the blackness of the material. 

You nodded your head very slowly, twisting your body just enough to be able to look him directly in the face, big eyes looking up at him, not with fear, but with expectation. “I do.”

Even your voice was the opposite of his, keeping that soft and delicate tone, as elegant as you.

He seemed satisfied with your positive response, and so, he dared to lean against the balcony fence right next to you, but careful not to cause you to feel too uncomfortable or intruded upon. His eyes never left you for a second and he was quite pleased that you were bold enough to hold his powerful and intimidating gaze.

“Good, it will soon become your home too.” Feyd answered you, in a tone that oscillated between amusement and fascination, you didn't quite know how to decipher the expression on his face either, naturally.

He was very complicated to read, even if you tried extra hard, the many tutoring and lessons with Lady Jessica didn't seem to do much use, with him. Perhaps because he made you feel unnerved, he made your soul tremble like no one could, stepping beyond your walls and standing where none of your senses seemed to work. Where the eye could not see.

“Are you mocking me?” Still, you had the courage to ask him that bold question, one eyebrow rising on your forehead and your head twisting slightly, defiant face and all.

Your bravery made him laugh slightly this time, a noise that was heard almost unnaturally, with a small crooked smile on his lips that looked all too unusual and strange on him. For not even his strongest and most powerful enemies had had the courage to stand in front of him and challenge him like you were doing right now. You were a fierce girl. And he liked that.

“I wouldn't be likely to mock you, my lady.” Feyd-Rautha replied calmly, his tone of voice the exact same, as if you were a spectacle. Your eyes lowered to his hand, which snaked slowly to the edge of the balcony fence, fingers stroking the smooth surface. “I'm just stating the obvious. You'll be living here with me soon. It will be our home and you will reign with me when it's my turn.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at his response, not yet quite convinced that he would behave so calm and composed with you, when not more than two days ago you had seen him slicing men to pieces in the arena. “You are not bothered by me invading your space?”

You asked that question because you knew how... eccentric men usually behaved, you could see it in basically every man with any power you had ever met, in the so many meetings with the Duke back home. You could see how they treated their wives, how they looked at them and how they talked to them, as if they were dealing with a servant. You feared this marriage was like that too.

Even your parents' marriage was broken, since Duke Leto kept close to his heart another woman who was not Lady Jessica, he did not love her as he loved that unknown woman. You had grown up seeing an empty and cold marriage, merely to fulfill a duty.

You understood that your marriage would also have that basis, and therefore, you knew that duty was the death of love. But for some silly, innocent reason, you wanted to think there might be love here. As the naive, young girl that you were.

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, not taking much interest in the matter of the question, “You'll be my wife, my space is your space.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw that his answer pleased you. You could begin to understand that to him the whole arranged marriage thing wasn't as important as it was to you, or maybe it was, but it didn't seem to bother him or disagree.

“Does this marriage bother you?” It was his turn to ask, staring down at you, noticing how beautifully your skin reflected the pale natural light of the black sun. He could see how frustrated you were now, to be there, with him. “Does it bother you to be my wife?”

You sighed heavily, peeling your eyes from Feyd-Rautha and returning them to the beauty of the landscape below, pondering the questions. His dark eyes followed your every movement as your body turned forward again, hands gripping the balcony fence as if your life depended on it.

“Do you care much for my opinion of you?” You decided to answer him with another question and that seemed to annoy him for his frown deepened and his fingers halted on the fence, devoting himself to glaring at you with his azure eyes, mirroring the pallid light of the gloomy sun.

“Woman, I will marry you and live by your side for the rest of my life, of course your opinion is important.” He took a couple of steps closer to you as he spoke, hand closer and closer to yours, managing to make you even more nervous. “Don't speak nonsense, it doesn't suit you. You're a smart girl.”

Seeing the expression on your face, he leaned even closer and out of the corner of your eye you watched as his hand rose to your face, resting on your chin and turning it ever so gently for you to look at him, but your eyes lowered, fleeing from his.

It seemed astonishing to him that you didn't even flinch away when you sensed the approach of his hand to your face, as if it wasn't the same hand that had slaughtered so many and slit so many necks by the same motion.

“Don't take your eyes off me.” He demanded in a low, raspy tone of voice, you could feel his breath brush against your face. “Look at me.”

When he whispered your name in that delicate, nearly pleading tone, you finally summoned the courage to look at him, allowing him to cradle your chin between his fingers and allowing him to be so close to you that you felt suffocated by the warmth of his body against yours.

“You fear me?”

He asked in that tone of voice, whispering, silently asking you to have mercy on him, not to fear him as everyone usually feared him, not to see him as the monster everyone saw, but as your husband, your protector and your lover.

He saw how your eyes watered slightly as fear peered into your usual stoic, cold face, and Feyd-Rautha was used to beholding that face, was used to fear, because it was always the last look of his enemies.

“I'm afraid. Of leaving home, of living on an unknown planet, of marrying someone I don't know.” Then you shook your head softly, looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “But I am not afraid of you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“You're very bold... and emotional.” He whispered in a disapproving but gentle voice, fingers tracing barely a caress along your lower lip before he reached up and dried the couple of tears that had managed to escape from your pretty eyes. At the closeness, you could begin to see through the mask he always carried, hiding his emotions. “You can't let yourself look like this in front of your enemies, it will make you appear weak.”

“I can't let myself look like this in front of my future husband?” his dark eyes lowered to your lips as you modulated the question, pupils dilating slightly. You swallowed as you saw desire and lust darken his orbs even more when you referred to him as your husband. You sniffed, feeling suddenly embarrassed by your outburst of emotions. “I'm s—sorry. You shouldn't see me like this, my lord.”

“Don't apologize.” He again reprimanded you in that passive-aggressive tone of his, like a hiss of a snake, shaking his head a little. Even after he wiped away your little tears, his hands remained in the same place, cupping your face, each of his thumbs resting on your flushed cheekbones.His fingertips were surprisingly gentle against your skin, sending shivers all over your body beneath their path. “You can be like this only with me, you understand? You can trust me, I want you to trust me.” His fingers took a lock of your hair and pulled it away from your face, running it carefully behind your ear. “But I really don't like to see you cry, my wife-to-be.”

After barely a second of silence with his azure eyes again flicking down to your parted lips, he spoke again, muttering, his raspy voice indicating that perhaps it hurt his throat to talk like that. “Pretty girls like you should cry out of pleasure only.”

He studied your face once more, not missing the way you blushed at his open flirtation and suggestive words, how you bit your lower lip, pupils expanding in thick blackness. You weren't used to so much attention, let alone men saying those kinds of words to you, it was evident. You were so innocent that it provoked a rare feeling of tenderness in Feyd-Rautha.

Perhaps it would be the closest thing to an act of consolation you would get from him and it was likely the only time in his life he had ever done that.

Promptly, you managed to make him smile again. “You Atreides are so strange and delicate... but then again, you will soon be Harkonnen, the prettiest na-Baroness, my pretty little wife.”

From his voice, his careful choice of words and the way he was looking at you, you expected him to kiss you right there —perhaps that was what you wanted, amidst all the tumult of emotions that shook your little heart, beating in rumbling noises inside your chest, pumping fiery blood through your veins.

But after a few seconds, he pulled his hands away from your face and backed away from you, taking a few steps back and offering you a look that you managed to perceive as soft rather than harsh. You knew that he was controlling himself well in maintaining a good demeanor, perhaps because his uncle had ordered him to do so; to do his best to make a good impression and not bring shame to the family. And also because he wanted you to have a good image of him, he was a prideful man, he was used to boast of his virtues and his power, and he was above all, protective of his own person and his glory.

He made a short gesture with his head pointing to the open balcony door, his hands clasping together behind his back pragmatically, as if he were presenting himself in front of a superior. “Now come, pretty girl, I'll show you the palace myself. You're future home.”

You walked towards him, a little smile curving your lips, the first smile on your face during the entire conversation, and he admired it in all it's glory.

“You don't have to be all stiff when you're with me, Feyd.” You eyed his posture with light eyes as you passed him and made your way inside the guest room with graceful steps, him following close behind.

He wasn't very fond of being addressed by name directly, of having his name used so freely, but the way you pronounced his name made him so utterly proud to be called that, he suddenly was wishing you would just call him that, in that tone of voice, tongue savoring his name as if it were the most delightful thing to say.

You turned to look at him for a few seconds, your tone of voice becoming reassuring, something he wasn't quite used to, yet he heard and savored it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world.

“If you can see me cry, then I can see you relaxed. It is only fair, no?”

Feyd-Rautha received your words positively, causing him to deepen his breathing into a snorting chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement now behind your back.

“I'll try for you.” His response made you smile once more.

[gloomwitchwrites]

(I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but here goes nothing)

For Imagines and What Ifs, how do you think the 141 men would react to you wanting to keep your last name after you got married?

Would be they be chill about having separate names? Would they be hurt that you don't want their last name? Would they suggest a hyphenated last name as a compromise? Or (my personal fave) would they change their last name instead?

Greetings, anon! You absolutely submitted a request correctly! I adore this idea. I love thinking about any of these men as married men and what they're like in that regard. I can easily see this prompt having angst and fluff. What I would like to do is answer the last half of the prompt. Those are four distinct questions, and four distinct ideas, and I think each of them matches to one of the 141 guys in turn. That is how I would like to tackle this request (if you don't mind).

I'm sure my selections might not match up with everyone's opinion but that's why fanfiction is so wonderful. We can all have different ideas and HCs and they are all valid in their own way.

Enjoy!! I had so much fun with this one!! Presented in four drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, fluff, light angst, married life

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You don’t want to take my last name?” He sounds hurt, and that breaks your heart.

“It’s not personal, Johnny. I’ve earned my title.”

“I know,” he says softly. “You worked hard. But—” Johnny sighs and rubs his chin. He glances away, clearly growing agitated.

“I love you,” you murmur, kissing his cheek.

Johnny melts a bit, kissing you back. “I’d like to call you Mrs. MacTavish.”

“And you can,” you reply softly. “Sometimes.”

“Like when?”

You need to turn his mood around. Leaning in, you playfully nip at his bottom lip. “When we’re alone. In the bedroom.”

Johnny grins.

John Price

“We need to talk about this, John. I feel like you’re avoiding the conversation.”

John’s tea mug pauses just before reaching his lips. “Avoiding what conversation?”

“About me keeping my last name,” you reply, crossing your arms

John sighs and places the mug on the counter. “You can do what you want.”

“Does it not upset you?” you ask cautiously.

“Not upset, love,” he says softly. “You’re a grown woman. I’ll respect what you want.”

You step up to him, one hand pressed to his waist. “Sure about that?”

John leans forward, stealing a kiss. “I’m more than sure, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I don’t want to change my last name, Simon. It’s…special to me.”

Simon stands stoic and calm. He understands. Names are important. They carry memory. Sometimes good ones. Sometimes bad.

“That’s your choice,” replies Simon slowly.

“You’re not upset?”

“I’ll respect whatever you decide.”

Your sigh of relief is soft and calming. This has been a burden for you.

“What if I take your last name?”

You frown. “What?”

Simon repeats the question.

“You want that?”

“I do,” answers Simon firmly.

Names are important. Names carry memory.

Riley is Simon’s father's name. It would be a relief to shed it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“How do you feel about a compromise?” Kyle asks softly. “Instead of us keeping our last names.”

It’s a conversation the two of you have had repeatedly after saying “I do.” You want to keep your last name, and while Kyle respects it, you sense he’s not entirely happy about it.

“A compromise? What are you thinking?”

“Hyphenate them.”

“Really?” you laugh.

“Yeah,” he grins. “My name first or yours. Doesn’t matter. A bit of both of us.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “I can see it.”

“Be the same for our kids.”

“I like it,” you reply.

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[homemadesterekpie]

im forever obsessed with the idea of Stiles and Derek being together in secret. not because they’re actively hiding it but more because their respective lives can’t seem to merge together.

Stiles is still in school trying to keep his grades up and keep up appearances of the imperfect/perfect son with his dad while Derek is living in the burnt out shell of his childhood home like some kind of depressing episode of bushcraft camping.

they’re both damaged and somehow they’re the only ones who can see that about eachother.

they save eachother’s lives one too many times and it ends up with Stiles giving Derek his virginity and his entire heart in the process while Derek’s entire fucking soul howls for Stiles. he wants to mark him and to claim him and to keep and hide him forever so they’ll both be safe.

but Stiles only stays the night in Derek’s burnt out den when his dad works the graveyard shift and reluctantly leaves in the early hours of the morning to go home to get ready for school.

it gets harder and harder for Stiles to leave every time he spends time with Derek. he’s not sure what it means about him that he’d rather stay with Derek in this broken haunted place.

he just knows that at least here he feels alive and he doesn’t have to pretend, he can just be who he is or at least who he’s become. this needy wanton thing that seem to never be satisfied with what Derek is willing to give him. Derek gives him an inch and Stiles wants a mile but somehow Derek indulges him every single time. and when they’re both close so close they both whisper promises to eachother they aren’t even sure they’ll be able to keep but it doesn’t matter. what matters is that after when Derek’s head is pillowed on Stiles’ chest, the both of them breathing hard with Stiles’ fingers playing with Derek’s dark hair, they both know the truth.

they’ll never be able to stop whatever this is.

Stiles can’t sleep alone anymore, his own bed feeling foreign. he can barely keep up with conversations that aren’t Derek’s words, his mind always drifting to the wolf and wondering where he is, what he’s doing, should he go see him on his lunch break?

Derek roams the woods at all hours whenever Stiles isn’t with him. he starts following him to school, to his house, to the god damn grocery store just to watch him.

somehow no one truly notices how reclusive they both become until it’s too late. they’re in way too deep and there’s no going back.

when people finally realize/find out about them they’re too codependent and entwined with eachother to even care about the reactions.

Stiles’ dad kind of blows a gasket because how the fuck did he not see it? does he even know his son at all? meanwhile, Scott has a one sided screaming match while Stiles looks at nothing.

the sheriff visits Derek at the shell of his home and confronts him. Derek’s face is hard and closed off the entire time but he acknowledges that him and Stiles have something. but he also knows how hollow Stiles truly feels from the neglect the sheriff imposed upon Stiles when his mom died and that’s not something Derek is inclined to forgive and he also knows this isn’t his place to tell. Stiles will tell his father what and when he wants to share. so he tells the sheriff to go talk to his son.

the sheriff looks absolutely distraught at that because he realizes he doesn’t even know how. Stiles have slipped through his fingers and become this unreachable being. he isn’t the person Stiles trusts anymore. the strange man living in the woods standing in front of him has more claim to his son than his own father does at this point.

a few hours later, Stiles drives up the long dirt path to Derek but this time he has a packed duffel bag with him and his eyes are red and puffy. Derek just takes the bag from him and takes his hand and pulls him to the mattress they use as a bed. they lie down and Derek holds him as he cries.

he’s not going back home. he doesn’t want to go back home anymore. he’s graduating in a couple weeks he doesn’t have to go home. can he stay here? please Derek can i stay here with you please please? Derek just kisses him softly in response because even if he wanted to he could never say no to Stiles, not when he’s like this, so fragile and on the verge of breaking completely.

Stiles sleeps better that night than he has in months. he graduates. he doesn’t apply to college but he’ll think about it next year. for now, him and Derek are busy building themselves a cabin with a huge garden. they work during the day at their own pace and at night they make love.

all in all it’s good, it’s peaceful and it’s more than enough.

[ellecdc]

Ooooo Mother, i'll do one better!!

What about the boys (established relationship) being needy over reader?? Like something she does or says or wears.

ooooooooof good one babes

okay, mature content ahead: viewer discretion is advised

James:

you come down the stairs to the Gryffindor party looking like that

certified simp, there would be no question what was going through his mind when he get's needy like this

glassy eyes just ogling you

following you around like a lost puppy - his friends would joke that you had him on some invisible leash

probably has a hand on you at all times

I see him getting a little whiny: "can we go now?" "the party's almost over, right?" "they won't miss us for a few minutes?"

whatever ends up happening afterwards is rushed and frantic - it's very obvious how absolutely desperate he was for you

Sirius:

you come down the stairs to the Gryffindor party looking like that

I don't think he lets you make a full round of the party before he's pulling you up to his dorm and locking the door

"Siri! I was talking to Emmeline!"

He'd scoff at you as he started shedding his clothes. "You come down stairs looking like that and expect me not to want to jump your bones immediately? Fuck, look at you; who even gave you permission to look this good, huh?"

idk about you but that sentence alone would have me in a puddle

ravishes you - you both look like a right mess afterwards

he takes about 30 seconds to revert back to his dishevelled rockstar appearance (which is so unfair because it took you a little longer to get ready tonight)

he dutifully helps you get redressed - the whole nine yards. Hair, makeup, outfit; though he makes sure some of the marks he's decorated your skin with are visible... "they compliment the ensemble, doll face"

Remus:

you come down the stairs to the Gryffindor party looking like that

he's got a good pokerface, but there'd be signs

he'd be a little quieter during conversations - most of his attention placed on you, one of his hands would be near his mouth as he played with his lips (like a nervous tick, almost like he really wants a cigarette right now)

but this man's M.O.? Get you feeling just as needy as he is

he would ask you to dance - and it'd be sinful: your back pressed up against his front as your hips sways in sync to the beat

his hands would be all over you: running up and down your thighs, slipping under the skirt of your dress, arms wrapping around your middle, gentle kisses pressed to your ears and neck

he'd have you so wound up and when you finally turn in his lap to ask him if he wanted to go upstairs, he'd smile at you and say "great idea, dove. I don't think they'll miss us for a little while."

get's exactly what he wanted and somehow it had been your idea

Regulus:

you come down the stairs to the Slytherin party looking like that

I think it would piss him off a little bit, quite frankly - how dare you come down stairs looking that good and acting like you weren't knocking the wind out of Regulus? (and likely every other partygoer there)

I think because he's feeling slightly jealous/a little peeved at you, he'd keep his distance at the party; but you would feel his eyes on you all night

his predatory gaze watching you as you navigate the party, sending threatening glares at anyone getting too close or was looking for too long

finally as the party is dying down, you're halfway through a conversation with Dorcas when you feel a looming presence behind you

"We're leaving." He says simply, taking your elbow and ushering you towards the dorm rooms.

you try to scold him for interrupting your conversation and rudely dragging you away from the party

he narrows his eyes and looks you up and down: "you don't get to show up to the party looking like sex on a stick and then berate me for finally getting you alone"

you smirk at him. "if you wanted me alone so bad, all you had to do was ask"

"Well, here I am." "I'm all yours, reg"

Barty:

you come down the stairs to the Slytherin party looking like that

your foot has barely hit the last step before you're hastily thrown over Barty's shoulder and he's running to his dorm room

"But Barty! The party!"

"Fuck the party! There are more important things to do."

you guys never make it back to the party - a shame too, you really liked that dress....the one that was since ripped off of your body and sat in a pile on the floor

"Don't worry treasure, I'll buy you 40 more of those dresses; though I can't promise they won't end up in the same state"

[inrockstarfashion]

Lando just wants you in his lap all the time. It’s an easy way to be close to you without having to stop what he’s doing, like having a conversation, watching a movie, gaming, etc. However, the first time he did it, he was home for a weekend and spending a lot of time catching up on livestreams with Max.

Lando got an idea and paused the game for a moment.

“Babe? Are you busy?” He is greeted with footsteps walking closer to the room.

“Not really. What’s up?” You answer leaning in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame.

“Can you come here?” He turns his gaming chair towards you. “Please?” His voice is slightly whiny.

You give him a hesitant look but walk over to him anyways. He reaches out for you, grabbing ahold of your hips and pulling you into his lap before reaching for his controller, trapping you between his arms, and starting up the game. At first you were confused because he never said anything after that other than yelling at his PC when his character died.

“Lando?”

“Hm?”

“What exactly am I here for?”

“Am I not allowed to miss my girlfriend?” He defended himself while still locked in on whatever game he and Max were playing. Your heart melt a little bit at his statement and accepted his response. You readjusted yourself so you lay your head on his shoulder and watched him play his game, drawing random shapes on the front on his shirt.

Eventually, you got kind of bored and asked Lando if you could take a turn next time he died. He perked up a bit at your question and agreed, showing you the different controls before passing it off to you, removing his headphones, ruffling his curls, and placing them over your ears, letting you readjust them before starting another round. Lando wrapped his arms around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder to watch you play his game. He listened to you and Max make conversation and laughed when you accidentally fell off a cliff.

“Chat is going absolutely mental over you two right now.” Max stated is disbelief, reading off some of the comments. “‘I want what Lando and Y/n have’, ‘The only thing I’m kissing is a shotgun after this stream!’” Max laughed and continued to read off a few more comments that caught his eye. Lando just smiled and squeezed you tighter, giving you a light kiss on your neck before returning to his original position.

————

I’ve been binge watching a lot of Lando’s and Max’s old streams and the March 7, 2023 stream is easily on of my top favorites to watch. I’ve been working on another fic with Max Verstappen but it’s taking me much longer than I thought but watching the livestreams gave me this idea and wanted to get something out. Hope you enjoyed this short little drabble until I can get time to work on my other story. Let me know if you have any ideas and if you want to see something for another driver!

Ciao!

[takumiraine]

Once upon a time chapter 3

3 chapters in as many days? Nobody tell my Ao3 readers. I don’t have siblings, but I hope I captured banter well.

<first> <prev> <next>

Once upon a time two men stopped believing in fairy tales.

Jason walked into the admissions office with Dan’s schedule memorized as well as Bab’s working schedule in the library to debrief both before and after and make sure their own girl genius ate. She was the only one in the family that didn’t treat him differently since the whole dead until he wasn’t thing after all.

“Hi there,” Jason said to the woman working the desk, turning on every ounce of charm, bringing out the smile that historically got him into as many troublesome spots as it got him out of. “I’m Jason Todd-Wayne and I think I’m ready to put down roots and get my degree in Literature. Russian or English, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh!” The woman looked suitably flustered, and he felt suitably stupid as he stood there with that thousand sun smile and his stupid shock of white hair and completely unprotected t shirt and jeans. Yeah he had a couple of knives in his boots but… he felt entirely too exposed. “Let me… make a call and see who can get you settled in.”

An hour and one incredibly flimsy “yeah well I’ve been doing absolutely no learning the last five years just give me the remedials first” lie later, and Jason had a schedule that matched up in a couple places with this Dan person.

He went to go see Babs at her job in the library, stopping at the campus coffee shop to bring her her favorite drink. May as well add some extra bribery to keep her from spilling if Bruce asked.

Jason doubted he would but weirder things have happened.

He walked up to where she was tapping away on one of the computers at the reference desk. He reached over and set the coffee near enough so she could grab it and far enough away that she wouldn’t throw a fit about the possibility of spills.

Jason looked around idly, waiting for her to be done with whatever task she was set to. Once she was done she grabbed the cup. “He’s here.” She said, taking a drink from her coffee.

Jason blinked. “What?”

“Yeah. Once I saw him this morning, without static, I realized why he was familiar.” There was the steady beep-beep-beep as she checked in books. “He practically lives here. Northwestern corner on the desktop.” More beeping and Jason turned his head under the guise of scanning the space as he sipped from his own drink. “Wouldn’t be suspicious except for last night, and knowing his class schedule.”

Jason nods, pushes off the desk and makes a slow circuit under the guise of looking for a book. The kid, under bright daylight, looks like hell. Pale with dark circles under his eyes. Thin. A quick glance at the screen shows him working on math way more complex than the remedial class he - they were taking. He selected a book from the shelf and returned to Babs.

“Kid looks more dead than I am,” Jason muttered, setting his cup down and paging through the book. Not only did the kid not notice when Jason got close but didn’t look over. No sense of danger that one.

He stood, making bland conversation with Babs and skimming through the book. At least until the kid got up. A quick check of the clock showed it was almost time for their first shared class. He walked out first, and pulled out the sheet of paper with his schedule. When the kid passed by Jason stopped him.

“Hey, sorry to bug you,” he wasn’t, “I started a bit late. Any idea where DL 115 is?” Danny startled a bit as he realized he was being spoken to, before nodding.

“Yeah. Headed there now. C’mon. I’m Danny.” The kid gave a smile and Jason was hit with the thought that with some sleep he was probably handsome.

As they walked Danny rambled a mile a minute, giving directions and a mini tour. Everything surface level, but kind nonetheless. He stifled a yawn as they passed the cafe where Jason had gotten the two coffees earlier that morning “and I’ve heard this place has the best coffee anywhere near campus. Haven’t tried it myself so your mileage may vary, but the smells are right.”

Jason normally found this sort of prattle irritating, but he found himself more amazed at the fact that a kid who had a knife in his stomach no more than 12 hours before was moving like nothing happened.

When they got to class Jason took the spot next to Danny. “Thanks for the tour man,” he said, wishing he could drop the Jason Todd-Wayne persona and go back to being just Jason.

“Yeah. Of course. Gotta help where you can.” Point one against being a rogue in the making. “Whats your major?”

“Literature. You?”

“Mechanical Engineering. I’m shit at lit, my high school teacher once accused me of being that dense on purpose.” Jason couldn’t help the snort, and he caught Danny’s lips quirk in a smile.

“Whats an engineer doing in a remedial math class?”

“High school was murder. Spent most of the time ghosting my classes.” He shrugged a bit, arranging the books he brought on the table. “Chronic underachiever.” The last two words were said with the same tone of someone who had heard them more often than anyone bothered to ask the reason behind it. Jason wasn’t quite sure where that point fell.

“Well, we need more engineers here. You grow up in one of the districts?” Small talk was a Wayne staple and even though Jason could appreciate the way they were helping him get information from the kid, it made him want to claw his face off.

“Nah.” A pause and the pit in Jason burned suddenly. “Small town in the Midwest. They need good ones there too. But Gotham was willing to pay me to be here.” He shrugs. “It’s a living I guess.” Jason had to resist the urge to grit his teeth. “You grow up here?”

A breath in. Out. Control. “Yeah. Crime alley until I was adopted by Bruce Wayne.”

Something in Danny’s look changes subtly, and the pit shrieks. Jason clenches a fist under the table, nails biting into his palm. “Doesn’t he fund the Justice League?” Knowledge outside his scope. Either the kid researched or had inside info. One point for rogue. Jason shrugged one shoulder and did his best ‘I just work here’ voice.

“I think so. Managing the money is more my brother’s thing though.” Keeping his voice even is a struggle with the way the pit lashes inside of him. Sweat beads at his hairline even though he’s certain the air conditioning just clicked on from the way the air is suddenly cooler around him.

“I hate those assholes…” he heard Danny mutter as the teacher entered and began the class. Another point towards rogue. So far it was pretty even, but there could still be an explanation.

The teacher began droning on and slowly the pit calmed in him as more math was put in front of them. Jason wished it would act up. Trying to manage it would keep him occupied from the numbers. They always only meant one thing. There was no subtext. No beauty. No romance to it.

God. If anyone knew that the vicious Red Hood was secretly a romantic? Kill him again now. He glanced over at Danny’s notebook when he realized he missed some instructions. The guy’s handwriting was a mess, little notes jotted this way and that with arrows connecting it to something else that Jason recognized from the more complex math that Babs and Tim sometimes got on about.

Danny caught him looking and trying to copy, and rolled his eyes but put dots next to the things he was missing once he looked over at Jason’s mess of notes.

After class, Jason couldn’t help but ask “why are you in this math class? I’m the wrong guy to ask but that sh…stuff,” he corrected, reminding himself who he was supposed to be. Danny raised an eyebrow but let him continue, “seems way more complicated than what we’re learning.”

“I’m a bad tester.” He shrugs. “I’ve had worse lecture experiences.”

Jason had an opening to get to know this guy better. “Any chance you’d be willing to tutor me?”

Danny’s eyes furrowed at him, “I’m sure your dad could hire someone with a math degree, not just some….” He waved his hand “nothing nobody from nowhere.” He finished. Jason considered, or at least pretended to.

“He could, probably a whole fleet of them. But I hate asking him for things. Rich people are just….”

“Pompous assholes?” Danny supplied when Jason seemed to struggle for a nice way to put it. Even Sam had been at first, her parents’ attitudes surrounding money rubbing off on her.

“Yeah. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. But I will pay.”

Danny seemed to consider that for a while, watching him more closely than the exhausted appearance would make anyone expect, something sharp and calculating in his gaze. Finally he seemed to decide and nodded, opening to a page where he had his schedule scribbled out. “I guess. When?”

“As soon as possible, I’ve already missed a couple weeks and I’m totally lost.” Not a complete lie. He could get himself caught up but making the bridge with Danny was more important. “Dinner at the cafe? I’ll buy for the inconvenience and then we can head to the library and get started?” Jason remembered Danny showing the mugger the empty wallet the night before. Either the kid kept his money elsewhere or he was broke.

Those sharp blue eyes landed on him again and narrowed slightly, and Jason got the distinct impression he was trying to weigh Jason’s soul against a feather. Then, again, Danny looks away and shrugs. “I guess. My next class is out at five.” Jason made a point of checking his watch. It was three. He nodded. “Meet you there at quarter after.” Jason nodded his agreement and stood. As Danny started to walk off Jason heard “And don’t think I’ll take it easy on you just because you’re a pretty rich boy.”

Fuck. What had he just gotten himself into?

The class Danny was headed to wasn’t one they shared, so Jason returned to the library. “Any idea what the kid does on the computer while he’s here?” Jason asked quietly, standing next to where Babs was shelving books. She handed him one and he put it back where it belonged, over her head.

“Excuse you, libraries are havens for those who want to be away from the panopticon of spying that is the powers that be.” Babs shot back, handing him another book. She could have reached that one but they both knew the understanding was clear, ‘you stand here to bother me during my normal girl hours, you work.’

‘And I know you’ his look countered. She sighed, wheeled herself and the cart to a different shelf.

“Nothing suspicious. Some conspiracy forums. Spends a lot of time sharing conspiracies with accounts named Technus and Ember, occasionally gets told to ‘go outside and eat something’ by an account called Desiree. Everything seems normal, or as normal as can be from conspiracy nuts.”

“What’s their favorite conspiracy?”

“Ghosts mostly. Though Pariah, Dan, also talks about how the JL is either in the pocket of the government or vice versa. He can’t seem to decide.”

“Any idea why he hates them?”

She hums, finishes with that shelf and moves along, waving cheerfully at some students that come out of a study room and keeps on her way. Jason is amazed that she manages the heavy book cart with her wheelchair. It’s just proof that there’s nothing that Babs can’t do. Jason doesn’t offer to push it. If she wanted his help she’d tell him. Or hand him something.

“Something about only helping when it suits them. Sending the government to put down anyone who needs help that they don’t want to give.”

“Threat assessment?” Jason was willing to bet that there was a reason. Maybe not a good reason, but a reason.

“Minimal so far. If they are working together, this forum seems to be their only point of contact. Ember is in Bludhaven, and although I haven’t been able to get any real id on her, Dick says there hasn’t really been anything abnormal out there. She uses a different computer almost every time and pays in cash. Technus is in Metropolis. Has some pretty nasty firewalls. I could get past them but then he’d probably know. Desiree is in Yale, studying psychology. She’s probably the one I have the most information on. Real name Jasmine McLain. Eldest daughter of two middle class parents, younger sibling died in a hit and run in high school, left town first chance she got and never looked back. Overachiever in high school and got an associates in Psychology while working full time. Doesn’t know much about net security but nothing stands out beyond that.”

Jason shelved a few more books. Wished he still smoked. “Something doesn’t feel right.” He couldn’t put his finger on what.

“Sure it’s not that jacket?” Jason looked down at himself, frowning. He looked pretentious. He looked like an asshole. He looked like Tim or Bruce.

“Now that’s just mean and uncalled for Barbie.” He said her name just loud enough for some stupid barely 18 year old somewhere in the stacks to chirp back ‘Hi Barbie’ almost automatically.

Babs pulled a face, elbowed him in the ribs. “Laugh it up J.J. the Jet Plane.”

In spite of the carefully honed bat instinct that said he was missing something important, Jason smiled.

[wwinterwitch]

cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away. 

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do? 

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive. 

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.

[lalunanymph]

your stepbrother just can't resist you anymore — itoshi. r

flirty!reader, pining rin, heavy stepcest sorz, conflicted emotions, forced orgasms, almost getting caught by parents trope, humiliation, dirty talk, pro-player!rin, rin is 22/ reader is 21, i wrote this completely blasted and came twice to it i fear

Rin never thought he would take this too far. 

He was known to be meticulous, and calculative—a man made out of stone. On the field, off of it.

Fans chanted his name, and newspapers exalted him as the latest football legend. But, it did not change the grinding tension he felt whenever his reflection shone back his dark eyebags and pinched frown—a symptom of overworking himself too much.

Through it all, however, Rin always prided himself on being a smart man. 

That is, until he met you. 

His new stepsister.

You fit every stereotype of a stepsister Rin had heard of from his horndog colleagues. 

Pretty, with a too wide smile. Eager and ready to be his friend. 

He hated to admit how those cheap, sleazy pornos Shidou would mass share in their group chat had a grain of truth in them. 

If they didn’t, he wouldn’t spend his entire time avoiding you, hoping you never noticed how the hairs at the back of his neck stood whenever you passed by smelling of vanilla and sin. He would try to at least give you a hug, not tense everytime you so much as brushed your arm against his. 

The idea of self-hatred was not a foreign concept to Rin.

He had spent countless hours comparing himself to Sae, wondering if he would ever reach the pinnacle of such greatness.

His destroyed ego had been remade too many times to count. And he was starting to suspect you would be his final undoing. 

“Rin-nii.” 

Your soft voice jolted him from his thoughts. He turned the TV down, trying not to let his stare linger on how the shadows from the dimmed blue light threw the curve of your collarbones into sharp focus. 

Both your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you had the house all to yourself. 

Rin lived on his own in a penthouse somewhere in downtown Tokyo, and he rarely came home unless his father called him to have dinner together with his new stepmother and stepsister. 

There was no reason why he should even be here on a Friday night in the first place. 

Plus, with Sae still in Spain, he had no one to turn to as a buffer, and the onus of suffering fell on him to return your unsure smile with a half-hearted nod.

“Do you want to have dinner?” you fiddled with your fingers, and he hoped to whatever deity above tasked with listening to his pathetic ass that you hadn’t noticed the heat dusting his cheeks. 

“Sure,” his voice came out steady, almost bored. Just the way he always sounded. 

Rin’s practised poker face was handy when he had to sit opposite of you, pretending to be absorbed in his plate of udon while you struck up sparse conversation here and there. You talked about work, your colleagues. Sometimes, you brought up your mom and how happy she was on holiday with his dad. 

His father had told him how you were raised by a single mother for your entire life and never really had a family to rely on. This would be the first time you had male figures in your life—and you never failed to express your gratitude at how easily they took you in.

“Ah, ka-san sent me some photos of the seashore,” you mumbled wistfully, picking your phone from the table and scrolling through your gallery with a fond smile on your face. “Isn’t it beautiful?” you shared the screen with him and he reached out to steady your hand, accidentally grazing your fingers. 

He pulled back slightly, mumbling an apology. 

“It’s fine,” you beamed, stowing your phone back into your pocket. “How’s practice?” 

This was the reason Rin absolutely hated you. 

How you could feel his touches but never responded to them.

Was he the only one cursed to feel his heart doubling in size whenever you so much as looked at him? 

Rin wished he could pull back your tall curtains to uncover the orbit of your thoughts—if they were even a millimetre close to colliding with the idea of him. The nuclear reaction was enough to get his mind reeling, and the tightness of his breath and the front of his shorts was enough to snap him back to reality.

“Fine,” he muttered curtly, standing up abruptly, the back of his chair hitting the wall.

You physically recoiled back, and for a second, there was a shadow that passed your pretty eyes, one which you quickly put out when he turned his searing gaze to you.

“Okay, Rin-nii,” you whispered, and your resignation crushed his soul. 

Nice going, Itoshi. 

You slipped on a smile, taking his plate to the sink before he could protest. He couldn’t tell that your hands were shaking, chest crumpled almost to your ribcage with the cold sting of rejection.

“You…” 

His soft voice rose above the clanging of your thoughts, and you stopped scrubbing. Turning to him, your raised brows spoke of honest intentions to hear him out. Unfortunately, Rin was unsure of what else to say, and you waited for your older brother to break the awkward ice. 

The parting between his two lips which revealed his white teeth, zig-zagged through your pulsing thoughts, goading you to crash into him. 

Your shoulders fell from your ears, and you stopped in mid-motion. Cold water ran down your wrists like tears from a crack in heaven, calling you back into the light. But, you ignored the righteous siren.

Those teal eyes, framed with thick lashes and desperation slowly inched up your bare thighs, right to the crease where your cotton shorts was caught in between an affair with your plush thigh and the enticing slope of your—

Rin flinched and spun on his heel, darting up the stairs as quickly as his toned legs could bring him. 

You watched after him, frozen in one spot, fighting the current of disbelief and disappointment threatening to tear you apart. 

The fleeting glimpse of warmth that ignited within the chambers of your lower belly was extinguished by the cold harsh truth: your step brother absolutely hated you. 

Swallowing hard, you turned back to your hands that were starting to prune from the water.

You switched off the tap, drawing your hands out of the sink basin and letting them fall to your side, breath coming out in stuttered puffs. Not caring how a tiny puddle was forming under both your arms. 

Rin snapped back awake to the sound of thunder crashing above his ceiling.

Like the heavens were rioting against the sins plaguing his thoughts, he twisted to this side, trying hard to squeeze his eyes close and allow his mind to drift off. 

Another clap of thunder, and Rin swore he felt a cold draft brush his arm.

The bed dipped behind him, and he jumped, a strangled yelp escaping his throat, ready to fight off whoever dared to interrupt his sleep.

When the whites of your eyes shone in the half-darkness of his room, Rin calmed down enough to exhale noisily, fisting the sheets to still his rapidly beating heart.

“What are you…?” 

Rin trailed off, anger dying in the back of his throat when the shape of you adjusted in the dark. He first noticed the dip of your shoulders, bare under black spaghetti straps. Following the curve of your collarbone which led right into the trap of your cleavage, he couldn’t help caress your soft skin with his heated glance. 

“You can touch them.” 

He blinked, and the whites of your eyes suddenly became more vivid even as the night darkened. The shape of your mouth was coming into focus, his retinas gathering enough light in the pitch black room to illuminate the soft flesh-tone pillows he wanted to bite down on in his frustration. 

The owlish blinks and stuck silence was cut off when you reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. Rin felt the heat of your thighs seep into his skin, and a low gasp spilled past his defences. 

Lucky Rin, the man who could score even in an unfair match, couldn’t believe if he was dreaming or not when you guided him to slide his palms up your thighs, your touch loose around his wrists. Your night dress hinged off your hips, and he briefly casted his glance to the darkened triangle in between your thighs. It fell back in place, hiding your most vulnerable part like a hasty curtain catching him right in the act.

But, when his larger palms encased your breasts, both of them curving nicely into the concave of his trembling grasp, your nightie’s betrayal was quickly forgotten. 

“Fuck,” Rin whispered despite himself. You were softer than he imagined. “Is this real?” 

It took him a second to realise he had asked that question out loud like a fucking loser. 

Your chest vibrated noiselessly with the buried sound of a laugh. “I can’t believe it either.” 

He flexed his wrists, wishing he could close his fists around such delicate flesh. His grip waned, and he felt like he should drop his hands before this got too weird, when you stopped him with a soft sigh. 

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” 

The shadow of disappointment in your tone, the way your syllables fell flat against your tongue like a limpid towel made a shiver of contempt flash hotly in his chest.  

Taking control over the voices screaming in his head, Rin firmly squeezed your tits, hearing your gasp of surprise and ecstasy rebound across the room. 

“Such a fucking eager slut.” 

Those words slid past the curlicues of his tongue with an ease of deadly poison, each word slowly bringing you up short.

“What—”

“Shut up,” Rin glowered, feeling the stiffness of your excitement between his fingertips as he twisted and tugged on your nipples through the sheer silk. “You seriously interrupted my sleep for this?” 

He yanked you closer to him, your body sprawling open like a chest of precious scrolls above his own. Your hair fell into your face, and your scalp’s sensitive skin cried out when he tugged it back with one hand, forcing you to reveal the truth. 

“Only little sluts try to seduce their nii-sans.” 

The harsh collision of his hot breath and the stinging slap of his palm on your ass made you come up short. Your cry was smothered by his tongue pillaging past the barriers of your mouth, forcing it wide open for him to devour the softness of your sudden shock. 

You barely kissed him back when Rin rolled you onto your front, pushing your face into his pillows. Something hard and insistent was pressing down on your thigh, and you shivered when you felt him reach in between your bodies to yank his shorts down. 

“Begging like a bitch in heat—I’ll show you what desperation truly looks like.” 

“Rin—hah!” 

Another hot slap landed on your skin, this time in between your upper thighs. It seared through your flimsy bleats and protests, crawling up your throat as strangled cries when you felt him shove his hands through the gap of your legs, cupping the heart of your desire right in his palm. 

Two thick fingers parted the wet seam of your folds, finding the flushed pearl which had the power to make you agree to any transgression. Those digits twisted it slightly in between their callous grab, flicking, rubbing and tapping on the fleshy dome with feral insistence. 

You cried out, and a large hand slammed over your open mouth. 

“Shut up,” he whispered, fervently, like he suddenly remembered that the walls have ears. “Our parents, they’re…”

Rin trailed off when the stony silence from his parents room down the hall finally hit him. Like someone had thrown cold water over his unbearably hot impatience, it dissolved into greasy pits of lust which opened up right to the darkness winking at him.

Begging him to choose her. 

“... not here.” 

“Yes,” you whispered, and Rin didn’t know if your shunting hips brushing his aching cock was intentional or not. “T-They’re on holiday, remember? We’re all alone.”

The way you said those last three words—the breathy rejoice of this simple truth—made Rin lean his entire weight into you, the warmth of his breath brushing the shell of your ear feeling like the world’s most beautiful electric shock. 

“Good. We don’t have to be quiet when I fuck you.” 

You were tossed onto your back with barely any grace, and Rin raked his hot stare down the planes of your body at the same time his veiny, outspread hands made their way down towards your hips. He pulled back the flimsy red hem which had so cruelly denied him the pleasurable view of your pussy, baring your glossy folds to him.

“Wet already, little sister? I would’ve never expected this from you.” 

He drove his thick fingers back to the sacred promise of your heat, using your own desire as a lube to take him right down to the knuckles. Your sharp squeal filled him with a masculine pride no goal ever could.

The feel of your warm walls, sucking him in and lovingly keeping him there like nobody had ever done in his whole life, made Rin feel like he could win 20 World Cups in a row. His nostrils flared and he curled his fingers in a seductive motion he once saw a pornstar do. Your arched back and tiny squeal almost made him smile.

“How long have you waited for this?” he whispered, loud enough in the quiet of your heaving breaths. “How long have you waited for me to fuck you?” 

“As long as you’ve waited,” your returning whisper, pushed through the scarlet haze his fingers were eliciting in your body, caught him off guard. 

“As I’ve waited?” 

You nodded sluggishly, half-lidded gaze heavy with emotion when you whispered:

“Since the first day I saw you.” 

Him, in a weathered jersey, coming back from practice while both your parents stood side by side, a cinder block about to explode his entire world while you were seated behind them—hidden from his sights. You were only twenty when you first met Itoshi Rin, but you knew you would love him for the rest of your life. 

“A year ago,” the ghost of his laugh in the crook of your neck made the patch of skin it caressed explode into tiny sparks. “I hated you the first time I saw you.”

As he spoke, he started to increase the speed of his fingers, using his thumb to put constant pressure on your aching clit. Sometimes, he would rub a few circles into it, drawing out your torment and causing your legs to jerk.

“R-Rin—”

“You reminded me of everything wrong about my parent’s marriage. You were my father’s failure right in front of me. I wanted to hate you so much.” His voice quavered, and his fingers stilled inside you. He pitched forward into your neck, covering his powerless side with a muffled sigh right into your throat.  

“But, I could never hate you.” 

Despite how wrong everything was, his words were right. Rin never hated you or your silly laugh or your insistence in making sure he was comfortable around you. Maybe he never hated you at all, just the upheaval in his life that followed along with you. 

He couldn’t blame you for that. It wasn’t your fault that your mother’s love had severe consequences on his upbringing. 

“Never?” you brought him back to the ground with your quaking question. 

“Hmm,” Rin hummed, in a half-answer to your longing. “We’ll see about that.” 

Those fingers were back to bring you towards the edge, ready to have you spilling out your deepest release and desires for him to taste on his tongue.

Rin curved one arm around you, holding you to his chest while his leg instinctively hooked around your thigh, drawing it right to his side and keeping you open to his plunging fingers. 

The hand protectively curved around your shoulders was the same one which pushed your neckline down, revealing your sumptuous breasts topped with heavy, hard nipples right into the chilly room air. 

He eyed how those nubs stiffened and perked under his watchful gaze. Rin couldn’t resist the temptation to pinch them around with his thumb and forefinger, relishing at how such a simple action could render you breathless and arching your back. 

Your hips swayed like a wave threatening to break over his entire wrist, while he skillfully rocked your world with timely strokes and tugs. 

The wet sounds coming from between your legs and spilling from your mouth painted an entire map of your release—the hitch in your breath, the gasping quiver of his name, your pitchy squeal which broke off into a pathetic whine. 

Rin let your body find her release from its shameful tether, those watchful, beautiful eyes never taking off from your undulating hips and flushed chest. 

While you were easing down from your high, he prised your legs apart, resting in between them and thumbing the raw, angry red head of his neglected cock. Your small fists crumpled around his white sleep shirt, the tilt in your waiting hips and the hungry look in your eyes undoing his patience. 

He fisted the base of his cock, giving it a few strokes. Rin was no amateur, but he wasn’t exactly as experienced as the other players. A truth he would take with him to his grave—his ego always needed to know that he was the best.

In your arms, you proved to him that he was worthy of your visceral reactions. 

You gasped out his name when you felt the tip breaching past your rippling walls. It was an exquisite stretch your toys or fingers could never give you.

Rin set a pace which had your tits jiggling freely with every heavy slam of his hips into yours. He hadn’t bothered to fully remove your nightie; something about how the hem was haphazardly draped across your thighs with the full reveal being where his cock was currently churning your insides, and the lewd way your breasts were revealed to his starving eyes from your hastily pulled down neckline, added a layer of wickedness to this already sinful affair. 

He devoured your flushed cheeks with a debauched sneer.

You turned your face away into the fluffy pillows to muffle your groans, but he pried it back to his impatient gaze. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he kept you pinned to one spot, held in place like how a prey would be frozen in fear from a starving predator’s gaze. 

“I’m fucking you so well, huh, Y/N?” his gritted scoff warmed your blood, making it sing in your ears. “You’re taking me like a champ.” 

“Stop,” you whispered harshly, tightening your hold on his loose shirt. “You’re being m-mean—” 

Your protests died as a choked moan when he wrenched your thighs off the bed and hitched them over his broad shoulders. Rin wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting them off slightly from the soft mattress with his sheer strength.

This position deepened his strokes, and coupled with your shaky circles on your clit, it had you right at the edge. 

“Rin… Rin-nii…”

The featherlight whisper of that honorific slammed into him like a tidal wave. 

Rin picked up the pace, the slick sounds coming from your pussy intoxicating him with everything about your presence; your airy moans, the glossy tears in your eyes, how you scrunched his shirt in your hold as if he would float away if you let go. 

You clawed at his chest, scrambling to grip his dark green locks and the back of his neck to draw him closer. Your legs were fully in the air, the deep rut of each sweet plunge in and out of your eager, twitching hole a shameful sign of your surrender to Rin. 

“Say it again,” he growled, the snarl on his face both terrifying and arousing. “Call me that again, little sister.” 

You wasted no time in succumbing to the darker instincts tainting the air tonight.

“Rin-nii… nii-san… please fuck me good…”

He grasped the doughy softness of your hips, sinking his nails into the welcoming flesh to take more and more until you were crying for him to stop. Rin was selfish with many things, and you were not the exception. He wanted to own your every sniffle, sob and moan. Every exhale of pleasure you released was consumed to feed his ego. 

You belonged to him and only him. 

That thought alone could’ve brought him to his knees, and it nearly made him lose control over his own body. 

The teasing darkness, beckoning him into her disastrous embrace, called out his name in a slurry, seductive moan which sounded awfully like your own voice.

“Rin-nii! I-I’m close!” your choked whimper made the red fog in his mind thicken. There was a finger hovering right over his trigger button, held back by his rapidly corrupted morals.

He couldn’t cum in you, you weren’t on any protection, he would get you knocked up, your parents would kick him out, he would be a disgrace—

“Rin-nii, inside,” you hiccuped, slipping your hand right onto your mound; using your index and middle finger to pry your nether lips further apart so he could see the glistening chokehold of your folds clinging around his cock. “I want you to cum inside.”

Those words barely left your spit-soaked lips when a well of warmth filled you right up to the brim. Rin’s guttural groan was primal, muffled into your shoulder. 

You welcomed his weight on top of you; pushing his cock deeper and pressing on a spot which had you seeing stars and releasing all over his twitching length. 

“Rin…” your soft gasp reverberated through his ringing ears. He shivered when you scratched his scalp, the pleasurable itch running down his spine. 

There was nothing else uttered between you two. Sleep came like a feathered down blanket over your consciousness, dragging you into the dark from the sound of his jagged breathing. 

Your stepbrother was right in between your thighs, eating you out for breakfast. 

Rin and you had woken up in a mess of limbs and dried cum, and rather than forcing normalcy after a night where the biggest boundary was crossed, you both continued to fall deeper into each other’s trap. 

“Rin-nii…” 

He had only fucked you twice, and yet, Rin was already feeling a possessive need to keep filling you up if only to hear you airily breathing out his name. 

His tongue slid through your folds, sampling your flavour with the patience of a man starving for his next meal. 

Your back was pressed to the expensive marble counter, and your fingers were yanking on his locks. 

“Mhm!” your teary hitched breath made him throb right in his sleep pants. 

Rin played with your clit, using his tongue to flick the flushed pearl and sucking around the greasy bud until your legs shook around his ears. 

Your nails sank into the underside of the counter, and he didn’t have to glance up to know that your face was crumpled in pure ecstasy. He could sense it in your hips—how they swayed like poetry in motion, spelling out his name and claim on you.

He flattened his tongue to let you slide your soaked folds over it as you struggled to find sweet friction; risking a peek up at you through his lashes. Your head was thrown back, the morning sun haloing your hair. Rin had seen a few women in the pinnacle of their own pleasure, but never one as breathtaking as you. 

Your moans were strained around your need to remain quiet, even as both your parents were still on holiday. He noticed your hand moving to cover your mouth in his periphery, muffling your moans behind a wall of flesh. 

Rin grunted; he couldn’t let you get away with this.

He retracted the pink muscle of his tongue back into his mouth, kissing your clit as a sweet consolation to his change of mind.

“Let me hear you,” he ordered, observing how you pried your teary gaze from the ceiling to the man right in between your legs. 

“Rin-nii,” your broken whisper stirred none of his sympathies. 

“Our parents aren’t home, so let me hear you,” he kneaded your hip with one hand, swollen lips pulled into an uncharacteristic smirk. “Unless… you don’t want to cum as badly as I thought you wanted to?” 

Your breathing hiked, and you tightened your hold on his hair. 

“N-no… m’wanna cum around your tongue…”

He sucked your clit into his mouth, using his lips to massage and roll the tiny bud. Sadistically enjoying how you flinched and tossed your head back to cry out his name. 

“Then let the neighbors know who’s eating you out s’good,” he growled into your flushed folds. “Let them know who this pussy creams for.” 

His words hit you like a freight train.

Running you down the tracks straight into madness, you let Rin order you around, control your reactions with his straitlaced dominance and encouragement to let go for him. 

You gasped, preened, cried out and moaned his name, calling him Rin, Rin-nii, Rin-Rin… 

His name sounded gorgeous wrapped in lust—your lust.

The sound of a car on the driveway knocked you back to the ground in shock, and from your stance in the kitchen, you could look out the window onto the front porch. Your parents were stepping out of the car, a few hours early from their scheduled arrival, lugging suitcases and joking around.

They couldn’t see you from the kitchen window’s heavy tint, but they were just a few feet away. 

“Rin,” you tugged on his hair harshly, begging him to ease up. There was a puddle of spit and juices gathering on the floor, right above where his mouth was still insistently connected to your clit. “Rin, t-they’re here—”

Those large palms caged your hips to the corner of the island, holding you down so you couldn’t squirm away.

“R-Rin!” 

“Cum first,” he muttered roughly, licking up and down your seam to tease you from clit to hole. “Cum on my tongue first and then I’ll let you go.” 

“No!” you whisper-shrieked, thrashing about, trying to push him off you. He stubbornly held on, pinning you to the edge of the counter with one arm, easily pushing his free hand through your thighs and plunging two thick fingers into your well-teased pussy. 

You gasped out loud, back arching.

Footsteps echoed down the gravel walkway, getting closer.

“Rin—”

Your toes curled, and the room started to spin. It felt like your entire skin was covered with flames licking every inch of your body—the biggest ember burning right where Rin was insistently eating you out. 

Despite every nerve that was drenched in horror, the coil in your belly never stopped tightening, thrilled by the possibility of being discovered.

“Rin,” you were sobbing at this point, whether in fear or ecstasy, you had no idea. Your body was in a raging battle, your self-control razed to ashes.

“... wonder how Y/N and Rin are…”

Your parents were just right behind the door, their voices breaching through your foggy mind.

They were a few feet away from opening the huge mahogany slab and finding your older brother on his knees, pleasuring you. 

Dad would freak out first. After all, he had explicitly told Rin to be nice to you—but he hadn’t anticipated how well the younger Itoshi would treat you.

Your mother would cry. She would curse you out for ruining the first family you ever had. 

And Sae, your other brother… 

The thought of your older nii-san and the disdain shining in those detached teal eyes (so similar to Rin’s yet so different) if he was the one to stumble upon the both of you, was the final push your body needed.

Flames licked your entire body, the world falling off its hinges. You crumpled to the floor, in time for Rin to catch you, his fingers furiously pumping in and out of your drooling cunt, squeezing you dry from the pleasure. 

He was frantically lapping at your clit, drinking up your juices, more of them splattered onto the floor. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, kissing and tonguing your folds as you shuddered and creamed around him. “Fuck, so good, so good—”

The lock clicked, and the front door creaked open.

The elder Itoshi found nothing amiss in his house when he stepped in, his new wife trailing behind with their luggage and souvenir bags. 

His teal gaze swept over the spacious kitchen, and the only sounds in the house came from the living room where light was spilling past the archway. Someone was watching TV. 

“Is Rin here?” his new wife asked, always excited to see one of his boys. He hummed, tossing his keys onto the console table and shrugging out from his jacket. 

“Beats me. He comes and goes when he pleases—”

“Tou-san?” 

Sanjiro paused, recognizing his son’s voice calling from down the hall. 

“Rin-Rin?” 

Both parents ambled towards the light source, rounding the corner to find Rin scrolling listlessly through the channels, still clad in his sleep shirt and pants with a cushion fitted snugly in his arms, nestled right on his lap.

He peeled his disinterested eyes from the screen to assess them. “How was your holiday?” 

Your mother spoke first. “It was great! The weather was so good. How has Y/N been? She mentioned you stopped over for dinner yesterday.” 

Rin’s expression barely changed, only a flicker of recollection behind those impassive eyes. “Oh. Yeah, I did. I stayed over in my old room—it was too late to drive. I hope neither of you minded,” he added as an afterthought.

His stepmother, always there to reassure that he was always welcomed in their new house, stepped into her hostess role. “Of course not! This house is as much yours as ours.” 

Never mind that this luxurious double-storey once belonged to his biological mother and father. 

Recognizing that his new wife might have overstepped with this careless slip, Sanjiro cleared his throat gruffly. “So, did you at least try to be nice to Y/N?”

Before Rin could reply, he was cut off by a chipper: “Yes, he was!”  

You drew all three of their attention, bouncing down the stairs with an effervescent grin plastered on your face. You were ready for the day, dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, hair damp from a shower.

“Rin-nii and I watched some horror movies last night and he made fun of me the whole time, did you not, nii-san?” 

There was a crack in his son’s composure—a look of annoyance that made Sanjiro want to chastise him when Rin spoke up, surprising the older man who could faintly make out a teasing lilt in his boy’s tone.

Which was completely unusual to hear coming from his sullen, withdrawn son. 

“Hard not to when you can’t even handle a jumpscare… little sis.”

said i would never write stepcest yet here i am oopsie anyway every reblog and (nice) feedback helps us manifest our own rin-nii bless

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[letoasai]

dp x dc

I’m usually more of a lurker in this fandom, you know? But this happened and it just needed to be written down. If someone wants to take the idea or continue it, go for it! Prompt - Consort

~~~ ~~~

Danny is told that while he is officially the Ghost King, there are a few last minute things to check off the list to keep the Observants from being able to mess with Danny's business. Clockwork even subtly confirms that this is something Danny should consider carefully. Being able to keep them in check is important.

 While not keen on a to-do list, Danny sighs and trusts that Clockwork is ultimately giving him less work.

He spends a few years doing odds and ends. Whatever task Clockwork mentions and it honestly suits Danny fine. It’s giving him time to grow into his position. It’s going well, that is until he learns that in his last task he has to consummate his newly acquired position in a very traditional way. With someone else...

That's bad enough, but it's thrown out to him that he must do this with one of his own kind. It's never been an issue before since The Ghost King is usually... a ghost and can pick whoever they want in the Zone.

Danny however is a halfa and because he's only one of three halfa's he's forced to pick between Vlad and Dani. A fruit loop and his clone/sister. The first is horrifying on many levels and the second is just plain unappealing. It's not happening, nope. 

It's practically a miracle that before Danny can completely fall into panic, Clockwork mentions the existence of a forth halfa. 

It doesn't matter who they are, it HAS to be better then his current options. That's how Danny ends up in Gotham.

~

"I can't believe you went without us." Sam complained. "We could have gone with you. What if you need help?" 

"I don't think Gotham is ready for ghost powers, Sam." Tucker commented. "Any trouble he runs into won't know what hit them." 

"Could you both stop wishing trouble on me?" Danny asked, he should have known he'd get ganged up on when he had them both on the phone at once. He was looking around and had noticed how he wasn't headed to the...best of neighborhoods. Had he not had ghost powers he might have turned right around. 

He'd gotten a fairly nice hotel room for the long weekend in a somewhat nice area. All of Gotham looked pretty damn bleak to him but at least he could easily survive in a place like this. There was so much ambient ectoplasm in the air that he was, frankly, surprised he hadn't spotted more ghosts. It was all to his benefit though. 

"Wishing?" Tucker chuckled, the sound of his keyboard clicking on the other side of the call. "It'll find you whether we wish it or not." 

"And then you'll be able to say you got to fight in Gotham." Sam lamented. 

"So this isn't about me not bringing you along to help me find this halfa, but because you just wanted to see this city in particular?" 

"Little bit." 

Tucker started laughing. "Damn, Sam. Nothing's stopping you from visiting." 

"There absolutely is." Sam grumbled. "Their names are Jeremy and Pam." "We're graduating soon, Sam." Danny commented. "After both your eighteen birthday and graduation you'll find your freedom." 

"And possibly your way out of their living will." Tucker commented, but Sam only snickered at the thought.

"That doesn't help me today. Danny's out in one of the coolest cities ever on a quest to get laid, and we’re stuck having a boring weekend." "Sam." Danny hissed as if someone else could have possibly over heard their conversation. This entire situation was beyond awkward. He didn't even know how to start. Hi, you're a halfa too? Wild? Wanna sleep with me so i can make sure my position isn't puppeteered?   "What? That's literally why you're there." Sam was back to being amused, conveniently forgetting for a second that she wasn't with him in Gotham. "You're not gonna seduce anyone with that attitude." "I'm not trying-!" "Aren't you supposed to be though?" She hummed. "Gotta put that charm to work, Phantom." "Oh shut up..." Danny grumbled. If this halfa immediately pegged him as king, would they feel obligated to sleep with him? Ugh, this was the worst. If the ghost he was tracking lived in this neighborhood then it was no wonder he was half dead... "I mean, the wording of this could mean anything." Tucker commented right as the clicking stopped. He'd shown his to-do list to Sam and Tucker ages ago, and this hurdle had always seemed so daunting. "Go forth and find what's just. A night of bliss and trust. A match for your soul in desire. A second coming to conspire." Tucker repeated the lines. "Man, someone did not take a poetry class." Danny just made a face, so sick of the instructions that even making fun of it didn't help anymore. "And you think that can mean anything?" Sam hummed quietly. "I guess you were told it was a basic innuendo so that's what you hear. It’s what we all heard." "Yeah, it doesn't say go fuck." Tucker said. "Could just mean you could hang out for a night and vibe. Video games. Take out." Danny made a face. "I can't see me doing that with Vlad either." "I should fucking hope not." He could practically see Sam's disgusted face. "Okay but that still doesn't make sense. I gotta hang out with another halfa? Why? Why would that block the Observants and their never ending input?" Danny wondered. "No idea." Tucker relented, "But it's worth a shot. right? You can always hang out first and see if it works. If it doesn't... well then you know what you gotta do." "Flirt. Bend over and show your butt. It's eye catching." "Sam..." Danny sighed, this was exhausting. She clucked her tongue. "It's good advice. Even Paulina did a double take last week." Danny just made an irritated sound in his throat, nearly tripping over a destroyed section of the side walk. All the businesses nearby had bars across their windows as extra security and more and more people seemed to loiter. "So glad that ship has sailed." Young crushes were painful. "It could also mean cuddling?" Tucker offered. "How'd you make that leap?" Sam asked. "Guys." Danny interrupted suddenly, his ghost sense chilling him. "I'll call you guys back. I might have tracked them down." "Don't forget!" Tucker said, tone only slightly accusatory. Sam just made a noise of agreement. "We'll want the whole play by play." "Well... maybe not the whole play by play." Tucker added, but Danny just hung up on them. His support system was filled with bullies. See if they got their Gotham tee-shirts now! Danny turned down an alleyway, not sure just yet what he was following but it felt fairly powerful. So far he'd seen mostly shades and remnants of what was. He was left to try to find this halfa the same way he had to track down Dani when looking for her, and that usually meant looking for a big source. When he took a turn and nearly walked right into an obvious drug deal, he inhaled sharply and turned invisible. The dealer had looked up at the sound but brushed it off a moment later when he didn't see anyone rounding the corner. Gotham was nuts but at least they weren't clowns. Deciding it really was within his best interest, Danny transformed completely, staying invisible for the time being as he followed his ghost sense through the scary part of town. Minutes felt like hours but he spotted a dude coming closer on a motorcycle and Danny's skin felt like it was vibrating. The halfa was a guy, okay. Danny could work with that, he really could. Even sitting on the bike, the guy looked a head taller than Danny. All the ghost powers in the world couldn't take away him inheriting his mothers build. For fucks sake, did he have to become evil to bulk up?! Danny flew closer, wanting to get a good look, only to have his vision impeded by a red helmet. When the bike swerved and the rider looked around around, likely sensing him, Danny backed off. His jaw was already hanging open in disbelief. Red Hood. That was Red Hood. Red Hood was a halfa?! Okay, he was the freaking Ghost King. When was that memo gonna land on his desk. Holy crap. Was he actually going to ask Red Hood to have sex ...er... platonically hang out with him? Danny's face was going to explode with heat. He flew away, watching him from the sky. Red Hood slowly brushed off whatever he had felt from Danny and rode on, making only a few more turns before stopping at an apartment building that Danny wouldn't have thought was still in use. This had secret lair written all over it. Danny followed, waited, watched. Of course he knew all about the vigilantes of Gotham but he hadn't really expected to run into any of them. Honestly, what were the odds? What did he do? Red Hood was technically a killer but he'd met more then one ghost who'd been avenged. It caused mixed feelings really. After two hours of nothing, a guy walked out of the same apartment. This time in street clothes. Same build, same height, same half energy. Crap. There goes that secret identity. Danny didn't know his name but he knew what he looked like. Dark hair, that curl of white in the front. Light eyes. Permanent looking frown and... Well now, Danny was frowning too. Something about his energy was off putting. Twisted. Wrong. Well... that would need to be looked into. From afar, Danny watched him go about his evening which involved stopping into those little stores and checking on people. Those people seemed to greet him with a friendly smile and know him somewhat well. Danny also got the impression that none of these people knew he was Red Hood, though he wasn't sure it would have mattered if they had. Red Hood was a crime lord but this was his territory... his haunt. Danny wasn't quite sure how this was both incredibly confusing while making all the sense in the world. He'd have an attitude too if his ectoplasm was all jacked up. What was he supposed to do? Suddenly if felt so presumptuous to show up at this guys doorstep to ask for such a favor from a stranger. He could leave and figure something else out, but the guy clearly needed help too. Maybe they could work out a trade or something. Danny felt torn about the whole damn thing and only decided to suck it up and act like an adult when his alternative was to call Jazz and ask for advice and he was not asking his sister about this. He flew ahead of the guy, making it back to his apartment first. He turned human again and sat on the stoop to wait for him. Internally he went over his lines in his head, what he would say, what parts he could leave out but all of that stopped when a shadow towered over him. The guy somehow seemed so much bigger in person. "You alright, kid?" he asked, there was the strange mix of concern and suspicion on his face. "There's housing up the street if you need someplace to go. They take anyone." "Oh uh..." His haunt had a place like that? Cool. So much for all those lines he’d been rehearsing. "I wanted to talk to you, actually. If you have a second?" He raised a brow but gestured to Danny with a nod to continue. Guess they were doing this out here then. "Okay, this is going to sound strange as hell but i've been looking for another halfa to help me with something. It's like.. a stupid huge favor and, fuck i hate even calling it a favor because that sounds weird. I also wanted to say up front that you can totally turn me down too, this isn't like, a demand or anything." Danny started talking, and couldn't seem to stop. His nerves were getting the better of him along side this guys emotions which were confused and itching with something aggravating. "It's not like i wrote this particular law either. I'm not even sure why i agreed to this shit but i've seen bad alternatives before a-" "What the fuck are you talking about, kid?" he interrupted. "Rude. I am actually eighteen." Danny grumbled. His eyes narrowed. Did he think he was lying about his age? "You sure about that?" "Yeah, my birthday is the same day every year." Danny deadpanned, almost getting a smile. "Let me start over, um, my name is Danny." he stood but didn't offer his hand because this guy didn't look like he'd take it. "And i've been looking for you." "Right i sorta got that, but why?" Danny could already feel his ears turning red. "Okay, hear me out because this sound fucking awful. I need to sleep with a halfa." Just rip that baid-aid off right?

Red Hood's frown was back full force. Guess he was still Red Hood since he didn't offer a name. "What the fuck is a halfa?" Danny short circuited. Was it possible this guy didn't know? "Okay." Danny said slowly. "Backing up and starting over again. Did you... You... You know you died once, right?" He scowled. "Yeah, i was there. How the fuck do you know that?" "Oh good, we don't gotta go back that far. Okay. Okay, so a halfa is someone that died. Like me." He gestured to himself. "Who came back. Someone who is half dead and half alive. There's only four of us. I have to sleep with one because of some political bullshit and i know how desperate that has to sound to you but i absolutely can not sleep with my sister or a fruit loop that wants to marry my mom." Red Hood stepped closer, a large hand wrapping around Danny’s bicep and pulling him along with him towards his door. It was opened long enough for the two of them to slip through and then shut and locked again. "Alright, lets unpack everything that just left your mouth and start to pick out the sane verses insane pieces." He said, somewhat exasperated. He was unhappy. Very unhappy. Danny had to hide a wince, guess Hood wasn’t ready to talk about his death. Jazz would be pissed, he needed to learn to be more sensitive about these things. "You're half dead?" "And so are you." Danny said. "Haven't you noticed any ghost abilities?" "Any what...?"  Distress. That was an odd reaction. Danny looked around, there wasn't much furniture but there was a couch and Danny made a show of going intangible and walking right through it. "Anything like that?" Red Hood was frowning. "No. Look. Half dead and half alive sounds more like a zombie to me. Where are you getting this ghost shit? How did you find me at all?" "Ghost sense." He scowled. "Of course." Danny sighed a little, biting his lip and brushing a piece of hair from his face. "Okay, this is my fault. I'm bad at explaining and i'm sorta having too many conversations at once. Lets start with you. You ever seen like.. glowy green sludge?" His scowl deepened, for a second there was true hatred etched into his face but it wasn't directed at Danny. The suspicion and distrust however were. "What do you have to do with the Lazarus Pit?" Danny blinked, it was evidently his turned to be confused. "The what?" "The green shit, kid. The Lazarus Pit. It's what did this shit to me. What drives me insane." Danny frowned. "The green sludge is ectoplasm, which we need. It shouldn't hurt you, but if it did...could explain why you feel so twisted up inside." He scoffed. "Twisted up, that's the kindest way anyone has ever put it. I don’t need someone elses insane ramblings on top of what i already got in my head. So if you're looking for a fuck, go somewhere else." "Okay." Danny muttered, he'd known that could be an option. "But would you let me see if i could straighten out to ectoplasm anyway? I think i can help at least a little and uh, i think your's is trying to eat away at your soul which is...bad?" Hood actually dropped onto the couch, looking beyond done with this day. "Do you think you there's anything i haven't tried?" "I bet you have." Danny said, stepping closer. "But my ectoplasm is healthy and isn't trying to eat me. You don't really have anything to lose, do you?" Trustme. Trustme.  His expression was nearly murderous and Danny could taste the rage. It seemed like he was having a hard time controlling it, and the more Danny looked, the more he was blaming the tainted ectoplasm. It even seemed to block some of the calm Danny was pushing towards him. "Kid, you have no idea what you're -" Danny stepped closer, hands on Red Hood's chest. He could feel the faint humming of a drowning core, trying to breath through the toxicity that had been forced into his body. Danny added his own ectoplasm to the mix, a sort of ghost transfusion. Ghost King privileges came with a wide aura and a lot of energy. There was a shudder, and the difference was almost instantaneous. The tainted ectoplasm had tried to rear up, tried to roll into rage and snowball but Danny just had more to work with. Danny didn't remember kneeling in front of his new acquaintance, or shutting his eyes, or shifting into his ghost form. He was however, aware of his core tuning into Red Hood's, trying to coax it to life...so to speak. He didn't know what it would have been like, a half ghost but confined only to his human side. Maybe if he'd never known any better it wouldn't have mattered to him but the thought of it now was suffocating,

There was a moment when Danny suddenly felt Hood’s confusion. It seems like he was finally picking up on Danny’s silent messages. 

"What did you do?" Red Hood asked, sounding tired, but far less hostile. "You made it quiet. You're also..glowing." Danny looked up at him with a nervous laugh. "Well, i did say i could fix it. This fix is kinda temporary but I know Frostbite can fix it for you permanently. I'll talk to him." He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, "...Thanks...." "No problem Hood." His eyes jerked up and Danny just smiled. "I won't tell anyone..." He hissed in soft irritation but it didn’t match his emotions. He was still riding the high of being in control of that rage. "So i did feel you following me earlier? I swear there was something around." Danny nodded once. "Had to be sure you were who i thought you were... and all..." Excuse. Excuse... Red Hood shook his head. "My name's Jason. I have a hundred questions minimum about this half ghost thing." "I could probably answer most of them?" Danny offered, realizing he was still on his knees in front of Jason and quickly getting up, a cold blush coloring his face as he shifted back into his human form.  Jason watched him, brow quirking again but he seemed so much more relaxed now that the tension was drained out of him and the taint to his ectoplasm was quiet. It almost made him seem a little younger too, not that Danny would have pegged him any older than early twenties, if that. Maybe he was still a teenager too. "Halfa's... You said there were four of us?" Jason asked cautiously. "Yeah." Danny sat on the other end of the couch. "My sister who is also my clone, and Vlad. Billionaire asshole who's a major creep." "Clone. You have an interesting life."   "That's a lot coming from Red Hood." Jason snorted. "Fair." he paused, proving he'd been listening to all the jumbled up words Danny had been spurting. "Why do you have to sleep with a halfa?" "Aah..." Danny's face went hot again. "So...i..." he paused. "Okay this all sounds bad. I defeated the Ghost King in combat, making me the new Ghost King." Jason brow arched again, "Kudos." "Thank you? Anyway... there's a lot of stupid... add on rules. I didn't make them. Hell i don't even know them all. Some ancient jerk just tells me one at a time. Usually with bad timing which is stupid because he basically is time." "And one of them is fucking?" "Ugh." Danny actually groaned, head falling into his hands. "Someone of my own kind and there's only us four..." he spoke into his hands. "Sucks." "Little bit, yeah." Danny looked up at him, hoping Jason wasn’t actually feeling any of Danny’s nerves or embarrassment. "My friend has a theory that it might not mean sex exactly and might be more of a proximity thing." Jason didn't look overly convinced. "And you decided to try that with some guy you don't know over your clone?" Danny blinked, brain crashing. If he could have just had a sleep over with Dani and avoided all of this... certain ghosts were going to get banished from the Infinite Realm. "Didn't think of that did you?" Jason snickered suddenly and Danny just groaned again. "No.... She's like my sister, i just completely wrote it off." He was going to die... again. This time of embarrassment. Jason laughed softly, the sound not used very often these days. "I mean, i guess i get that. Some times things are easier when you're family isn't involved." "You can say that again..." Danny muttered. Jason leaned back on his spot on the couch, watching Danny with something like amusement in his eyes. He was...so different without the tainted ectoplasm gnawing on his soul. He was finally relaxing. "Well, your Majesty. Would this get me a favor with the king?" Danny's blush stretched down his neck. "Don't call me that. It's too weird." "Nope." Jason was grinning now. "Too much fun. You are way too easy to fluster for a guy that just popped up to ask for sex." "That's not-...!..." Danny winced. "I mean you said no, so that's that." "Changing my mind." Jason said instead, attuned to Danny's look of surprise. Ah, fuck he was definitely able to read Danny now. "Besides. "I have a hundred questions, remember? I'm sure we can mange between rounds." "Rounds?" Danny mouthed the word but no sound came out. Okay, it wasn't a big deal if his heart stopped beating but he was pretty sure it just did. Yeah, it stopped. "O..okay." He attempted, but it just seemed to endear him more as Jason moved again, his time leaning closer. Okay, hot guy in his personal space, he could handle this. It was why he was here.   Jason tugged on Danny’s hair. “It changes. Black to white. That’s cool. Kinda wanna see it more.”

Okay, hot guy in his personal space, he could not handle this. “It uh..yeah. Does that. Alive verses dead i guess. I’ll show you once your ectoplasm is worked out. I don’t see why you wouldn’t gain abilities too once your core is sorted out.”  “You really love to say words without context, don’t you?” Jason said and his amusement was loud.  “I guess... i get ahead of myself.” Danny muttered, unable to make eye contact as Jason slid closer. This was not his first kiss. What was going on with him?  "It’s alright, i’m a quick learner. Besides, i really want to say thank you for you clearing my mind, even if it is temporary." Jason muttered. He’d been screaming for help but no one had ever heard him before.  "We will get that fixed." Danny promised, voice just as quiet. "First thing tomorrow, if you want." "Second thing." Jason said, reaching out to cup Danny's cheek this time before drawing him closer to kiss. Danny didn't think you could see stars in Gotham but he was sure seeing them now. ~~~~  ~~~~

I kinda wonder who’s going to tell Danny he just found a consort. My money’s on Frostbite....  ...As for who tell’s Jason?....That’s Dani barging in to meet her new brother in law  Hope you enjoyed this, feel free to add whatever you want.

Master List 

[moneymartin]

nika hcs? anything tbh…… maybe things she’d do in a relationship! :)

gf!nika hcs ✧.*

warnings: suggestive content and smut at the end under the divider :p

afab!r

a/n: anonie this is so kyoot thank u 🥸 kind of long?? i got carried away 😣

my beautiful croatian baby where do i even start with you…

this girl is the definition of ALL THE FIVE LOVE LANGUAGES

defff loves having conversations. could talk to you for hours on end and never ever get tired of hearing you talk

long talks = a good relationship w her

you two 100% play basketball together

promises to go easy but goes absolutely batshit crazy on you when shes playing defense

will literally break your legs if she has to just so she can score when shes on offense

when you guys go to the gym you spot her sometimes and her shirt always rides up andddddd and

ok what i’m saying is you love her abs

they’re great.

LOVES being touchy

esp in public… has no shame whatsoever and isn’t ashamed of it

keeps her hands on yours, grabs your arms, or always holds your thigh when she has the chance

also really super possessive and protective over you. if she sees someone staring at you for more than a second she’ll start to make out w you in front of them so they scram

hugs you in front of them too with her head over your shoulder so she can stare them down while you’re incredibly oblivious to what or why shes doing it 😭

she marks you up in easy to see places so ppl know that you’re taken…

also gave you a bracelet or necklace with her initial on it and a heart charm or something like that😇

when you guys cuddle shes 100% big spoon no debate abt it

loves seeing you all tired she thinks its adorbs 😢

plays with your hair while you try to fall asleep or does it while you’re on the phone trying to sleep

but if she’s in a really bad mood she’ll switch and be lil spoon

makes you scratch her back so she can relax before she sleeps

and you gladly do it!!

love love lovess doing the little things for you

if you’re sick she will cook you up something good asfk for breakfast in bed

babies you the whole time too cause she can’t help herself ☹️

when she’s at an away game and you can’t make it she has this little notepad and writes love letters on them for every day she’s gone (iykwim)

i feel like she’d spoil you too !

mention one small thing and she’s already ordering it off of amazon

if you mention an artist she’s buying you tickets to their concert already 🙇‍♂️

new clothes like every week i swear

acts of service is her thang too

will do the dishes or the laundry whenever you need her to

she doesn’t even say no either like she’ll stop whatever she’s doing and will do what you ask

drives you all over the place even if its in a wholeee different state 🥲

when you can’t make dinner she’ll do it for you

i feel like she’s also very open to trying new things

maybe new foods with you or new date ideas when you get bored of the reused ones

i think she’d LOVE roller coasters

thats probably the one place you two would never get bored of

cooks you croatian food 🥹

in summer she takes you there too and you get to go to all the places she went to when she was a kid there 🙁

loves talking abt her home country. she’s so proud of it

soft dom. NO DOUBT ABOUT IT.

your pleasure is incredibly important to her

she doesn’t care about what she feels, she cares about what you feel

def uses a strap i can tell… she’d use it most of the time

LOVES overstimming you though its something she can do for hours but will stop when it seems like too much and you’re practically sobbing 😭😭😭

rough unless asked to be soft and gentle

service top is what i mean

10000% cusses in croatian 😩

like she’ll be face deep in between your legs and she’s mumbling curses under her breath and its SOOO HOT

when she tops too her face will be right next to your ear and every time she moves she’s grunting something in croatian

honestly i feel like she’d be a scratcher if you ever switched it up

marks and dots of blood ALLLLLL OVER YOUR BACK

you try to show them off afterwards so she knows how pathetic she ended up becoming 😇

MY GOD

I NEEDDDD HER

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Yandere MK11 + MK1 Raidens with the same darling

I got this idea from this post...although this isn't nsfw sorry lol

A/N: Does it count as a harem if it's only two? Who cares, this is for my baby girls. I love the Raidens so much (mk11 just a bit more tho lol)

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, abusive themes, obession...ect..

Masterlist

Requests: open 24/7

Dynamics

Raiden (mk11) is the one calling the shots in the relationship. He's brooding and demanding, he's so selfish over you. He doesn't particularly like to share his things. He's much rougher with you and likes for you to comply with whatever he has in store that particular day. You're his. And only his, he's only allowed for his younger counterpart to have access to you because,,, well...it's technically still him. Truthfully though I think he's a jealous diva. He doesn't like how youthful and relatable Raiden(mk1) is to you. He feels like he's in a competition and needs to assert his superiority over him. toxic power play over both of you.

Raiden(mk1) doesn't mind taking the backseat to the relationship. He's not really looking for a fight with the older man, he's just here for you. Honestly, he's just happy that he's not alone in his sinful desires for you, that even his other self is just as sick in the head as he. In comparison this Raiden is a lot kinder. he doesn’t speak down to you or is nearly as demanding. He almost appears to be genuine about his “love” for you..just a little screwed.

One thing that both Raiden's bond over is their jealousy. One or the other is always closely lurking around you. Even in their sky temple where you'd think you'd be free to roam, they are always supervising. Younger Raiden is a dirty little snitch and will promptly tell (Mk11) Raiden about you talking to a male servant a little too long. It's a sick pleasure for them really, they enjoy keeping you in line and showing others who you belong to. They sometimes will find themselves boasting about the things they did to their poor unsuspecting victims and collaborating on methods of torture. It's a bonding moment. truly.

As much as the older Raiden is a grump towards the younger, he's rather inventive when it comes to guiding him through the relationship. Unexpectedly reassuring at times and helps younger Raiden gain confidence with you. Younger Raiden will help out too where the older one lacks which is usually emotional intelligence. He helps (mk11) with gifts and compliments to give you. ahhh they so cute together.

Do they feel guilty?

(Mk11) Raiden feels absolutely no shame, guilt or remorse for his actions. He's a corrupt tyrant who loves his place in your life. Taking you captive and devoting his life to you is nothing he should regret, it's an honor to be your protector. Dark Raiden is far gone and is unwavering in his beliefs, no matter how deluded they may be. You will soon come to understand that this new life is the best one for you...he'll make sure of it.

"This is for your greater good, my dear. It's far too unsafe out there without you being under our protection and care."

(MK1) He feels a bit shameful, this isn't the morals he's grown up on. It's quite embarrassing at times how enthralled he is with you, how easily he melts at your will. You probably think he's pathetic in comparison to his older self. He's not nearly as confident or self-righteous. But even so these feelings aren't enough to ever stop him in his tracks. You do rightfully belong to them, and though he's not one to be quick to anger, he'd easily find himself bashing someone in for trying to take you away.

How do they show their affection?

(mk11) Raiden maybe isn't as outwardly sweet as his younger counter part. He shows his love by providing for and protecting you. He allows you to be near while he works on things and makes attempts to conversate. When he controls and corrects you, that's his way of showing he cares. All the deep lovely dovey stuff, he couldn't really care for. He doesn't fully understand all the emotional needs and wants that humans have. His actions can come off rather surface level or even like he's not as in love with you as he truly is. Everything he does is romantic and thoughtful in his own twisted mind. Its a struggle but he gives you everything and makes sure you're safe...what more can a devotee offer?

(mk1) Raiden is the one you go to get all your emotional needs. He's a sucker for you and very charming too. When you're crying, scared or upset, he will comfort you. Raiden understands your emotions on a deeper level since he's an earthrelmer. Raiden loves to compliment you often and worship every part of you. You don't have to ask to hold his hand or to cuddle, just do it. He is always more than happy to satisfy any needs. He's such a blusher and I like to think his heart still beats fast whenever you touch or look at him.

Both are feral for your affection. Older Raiden might not react much to your compliments but he holds on to every single one and it makes him spiral deeper into his insanity. Younger Raiden is always very verbally thankful for your love. Even gifts you with your favorite desserts or flowers as a gesture in return. Oh They love you. *will both kiss your feet if you asked*

Trying to escape?

Yeah no. It's stupid for you to even think for a second that you can get away. Two champions holding you hostage? One is like a million years old and extremely experienced and the other was literally created to be a diet version of him.(lmao don't come for me)

If you should escape (mk11) Raiden will be furious about this. He's the one that found your ass and is dragging you back to his temple. This isn't just some light situation, your actions are telling him that you're unhappy. How can you be unhappy when you're revered to wits end? Everything you could want or ask for is at your foot..you ungrateful girl-

(mk1) Raiden had to step in between you two because the ways things were looking, your punishment wasn't going to be pretty. Don't be fooled though, he's rather upset you wanted to leave him but he still loves you. He somehow convinces Raiden to let up on you and to give you a lighter sentence like isolation. He's super pouty and manipulative towards you for the next couple of days. I just know he's the best guilt-tripper and breaks you down into sobbing at their feet..you beg and whine for forgiveness and find yourself spewing declarations of love to them.

"Now I got you out of your stupid mess, y/n. Why don't you be good and tell Raiden how much you love him? I can't hold him off forever and I'm not sure how much electroshock therapy you can handle."

Do you think (mk1) Raden would be right over (mk11) Raiden's shoulder while he punishes you? Like he's feeling super bad about it and trying to give you "reassurance" he's actually just taunting you and egging on Raiden. Deep down he's kind of enjoying it. Like he knows this is deserved and is happy that after this you surely won't leave them again hehe..

Okay i have to stop because i don't wanna slip up and start writing nsfw LMAOOO

[sachirobabe]

I saw your post about having writer's block for a Kuroo fic! >.< He's been on my mind SOOO much lately 😩😖 I'm so glad you asked! 👀

Honestly, CAN'T get roommateKuroo! outta my head!!! Would love to see some roommate to friends to lovers type material 🥺🥹🫣

Either that, or some boyfie headcanons? 🥺

(I'm a fem reader btw! And I love your content! 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🤧🤍)

ty sm for requesting! this is exactly what i needed, i actually saw this yesterday but i let it sit in my head for a little to get some ideas, i hope you enjoy🫶🏽🫶🏽

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ᡣ𐭩 •｡

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who offered you the extra room at his apartment because you complained about your roommate once, but when you try declining he does everything he can to persuade you to live with him (platonically of course—not)

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who takes it upon himself to do all the heavy lifting when moving your things to his place, showing off his strong arms from his days in volleyball and he celebrates internally whenever he catches you quickly glancing at him

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who is extra considerate and goes out of his way to do things for you, but he’ll pretend that it’s an inconvenience for him to tease you and see your reactions, he loves seeing you frantically apologize and tell him you didn’t even ask him to get you your favorite snack after work—he’ll continue to do it to see you smile

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who finds any excuse in the world to casually touch you, he’s a sucker for physical touch and he makes it a routine to watch a movie or a show with you every night so he can be close to you

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who shares his interests with you and shows genuine curiosity about yours, he’ll indulge in whatever activity you’re doing and tries his hardest to get you to compliment how he does

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who is still in college and frequently takes you to the library or a quiet café to do homework and help you study, he’ll cutely hold up your color coded flash cards and smiles widely when you get a question right

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who made it a routine to go grocery shopping with you every week instead of just asking you for your list (he likes it when people confuse the two of you as a couple, makes him very happy)

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who likes to cook meals together, which always ends with the two of you covered in ingredients because he likes to mess with you and sprinkle spices on you or smear food on your face

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who has deep late night conversations with you about anything and everything, he loves listening to you talk and he’ll stare at you the entire time with a smile on his face

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who’s very protective of you, keeping his eye on your body language to make sure you feel comfortable and he absolutely HATES it when he notices other guys checking you out, he knows he can’t be jealous because you’re not his, but he’ll glare at the guys and place a hand on the small of your back to guide you somewhere else

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who not-so-secretly glances at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, loving how comfortable you are at home with a baggy t shirt on and no makeup, he loves when you’re dolled up, but he especially loves you like this because it’s a sight he can only enjoy

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who gives you genuine compliments that never fail to leave you feeling some type of way

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who daydreams constantly about you while he’s in class or at work—literally anywhere, he’s always thinking about you and how he should ask you out

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who at first denied his feelings towards you and just liked to annoy you, but after having a guys night out with bokuto, kenma, and akaashi, he realized just how much he missed being around you and drunkingly said every single thought he had about you to his friends

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who asks all of his friends for advice because he’s terrified of rejection and messing things up with you

-`♡´- roommateKuroo! who finds the courage to tell you about how he actually feels over a fancy home cooked meal he did all by himself while you were at work, he’s absolutely elated when you shut him up with a kiss because he was rambling

[xoxochb]

hihihi i have a percy request pleasee

a black sheep aphrodite fem!reader, who was hurt by love once and now doesn’t believe in it so doesn’t really fit in w the rest of the cabin yk, and percy get stuck in a closet in a game of seven minutes of heaven??

please and ty my love

⋆·˚ ༘ * all because I liked a boy

warnings: none

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite

aphrodite’s offsprings are always affiliated with love. there was never a case where one hated it, until you. you didn’t believe in it like you used to

you used to be in love once, it was with a boy who didn’t reciprocate your feelings. you spent months pining over him and when you finally worked up the guts to confess he rejected you, after that you haven’t believed love was real. how could it have been real if you spent months loving a boy just for him to not love you back?

unfortunately love was everywhere. in the books you read, in your cabin, in the air, wherever you looked, in conversations, you couldn’t escape it and it killed you.

on the other hand, percy jackson was enamored with you. every thought consisted of you, your face, your laugh, your smile, your voice, your hair, absolutely everything about you had him in a lovesick spell

there was a problem with this though: you didn’t believe in love. how could you ever love him back? he had an idea to fix this though, and it was genius

🌸

you sit uncomfortably in cabin ten. your friends sitting around in a circle, talking about love nonsense, nothing you care to listen to- that was until you heard your name linked with percy’s

“what?” you turn to many different faces looking for an answer

“you, percy, closet, seven minutes” silena points to the closet door with a smirk, and you look to percy who wears a similar expression

he stands up and holds a hand out for you, which you take and let him lead you to the closet

“is there a light in here?” percy asks upon closing the closet door

“it broke last week, we haven’t gotten a new one yet” you explain

“okay…”

you now stand uncomfortably

“can we talk?” you hear percy ask

“I suppose”

��good, good. uhm- well I don’t really have this planned out so I guess I’m just gonna say whatever comes to mind.” he takes in a deep breath before continuing, “I really like you, and I know that you don’t really ‘believe in love’ anymore because of some idiot who rejected you, but I want you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you, you mean a lot to me and I think that you deserve love, and before you say anything I know that you might have some issues with this which is why I want to assure you that I will treat you right. you know everything I do is always for you, I always make sure you’re comfortable in every situation, always make sure you’re staying alive when sick, I always put your needs before mine- if I had to chose between healing my stab wound before I die or healing yours before you die, I would chose you in a heartbeat, no hesitation whatsoever. I would do everything in my power to assure your happiness even if that means putting myself in life-threatening situations or pulling impossible stunts. If you wanted me to jump off the tallest mountain I would do it, if you wanted me to stab myself I would gladly do it, I’m not sure if this is enough to let you know that I would never break your heart, but I really mean it, swear it even, I swear on my life. anyways to wrap this up, I really love you, I hope you know that, and I’ll give you every right to reject me or hate me I just wanted you to know that I’ll always be here if you change your mind on the whole love situation.”

you stand in mere shock. how long has he been waiting to say this? (it had been since you met but he wouldn’t tell you this)

“percy?”

“yeah?”

“where are you?”

you feel around until his hands take hold of your elbows, keeping you in place. you rest your hands around his biceps before speaking again:

“do you mean it?”

“of course I do, angel”

there’s silence for a moment

“how many minutes left?”

“five maybe? why?”

“no reason” yes there is, you wanted to shamelessly make out with him. you couldn’t say that though

“y/n/n?”

“yeah?”

“can I kiss you?” oh so he’s a mind reader now?

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t want you to”

the moment he got confirmation his lips met yours. how he could see in the dark, you were unsure. but you were just glad you got your happy ending

[mionkings]

Making Heads Turn 🫨

Jason had become a father to a little baby boy, taking him in when he found the poor thing on the streets, in a cardboard box, wrapped in a space themed blanket.

While the obstacles a new parent goes through is tough. He knows it's worth it to have Danny, his baby, his son in his life. He doesn't regret adopting him.

Danny is now at the stage of his little life that he babbles and giggles, Jason always had fun having a conversation with his baby. Although Jason's sure that his hair is getting whiter with the chaos Danny brings now ever since Danny's baby brain realized that he can CRAWL to PLACES >:D

However this new development... is a little strange.

Whenever Jason puts Danny down in his crib to make dinner or any other important errand. Danny will begin to babble to the air, as if his little tyke is trying to talk to someone, making grabbing hands and scooching over to grab someone's attention.

It sent a slight shiver down his spine...

Ever since he made his introduction to Gotham as Red Hood, for the first time to those gang leaders with the bang of the AK-47. Taking over the Gotham underworld by storm with anger and precision.

He always felt a chill down his spine... When he was alone, yet... the Pit Madness flared everytime, making him feel enraged and paranoid. As if he was just waiting for a fight... for a confrontation...

Being alone in his apartment, having nightmares, more like repressed memories of what he had done... Lots of things, but for some reason—his mind... keeps going back to the moment he threw that duffel bag at the table infront of the gang leaders that night... the night he went after the lieutenants, taking their heads.

He doesn't know why.

But ever since the precious cargo that was his baby Danny, arrived in his life. That all went away as he took care, fed, and loved his baby boy.

Jason never had an episode with Danny; he couldn't bare the thought of hurting the child.

Jason was even having less episodes when he was with the Bats!

The chills; however, Jason still feels them occasionally... but they would always disappear the moment Danny would demand attention or to nap.

And instead he would feel something else hang over his baby everytime Danny slept peacefully...

———

Second ever DPxDC prompt that I've ALSO been getting brainrot over ❤️ I'm having fun 😄

Basically this prompt idea is Jason adopting a baby Danny, while seemingly unaware that he's being haunted/watched by the people's he's killed to become a crime lord. More specifically, being haunted by the heads/headless ghosts of the lieutenants Jason killed as Red Hood.

While Jason can't seem to see them, he can feel 'chills' from them. Danny, however, CAN see them mostly because I based this on that thing where babies/toddlers can see spirits in those typical YouTube videos that list ToP 5 ScArY gHOstZ VidEOz!1!1

Whatever happened though, this causes the ghosts to instead focus more on Danny than on Jason.

How much will Jason freak the fuck out when he finds out? Who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Although Danny is absolutely having fun here ^^

Anyways, I might add extra stuff soon to this!

[silentscrying]

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track two: kowalski, status report

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, toge bullying, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

"I SHOULDN'T CUSS in this, right?"

It’s the day before the other four artists premiere their sets at Battle of the Bands, and you haven’t been home since six in the morning. You’re running on caffeine and spite and the pursuit of the story, parked on a high stool across the bar from the one and only Ieiri Shoko.

Toge leans on the counter beside you, opting to stand. He’s agreed to pay for the next snack run in return for you letting him be your partner. You both know you’re going to end up doing most of the writing, but you don’t really mind. Toge would if you asked him to, but you love this kind of thing in a way he just doesn’t. Plus, he’s better with a camera than you, and he’s taking photos tomorrow night.

You laugh, pulling out your phone to record. “You can say whatever you want as long as it’s honest. Be candid.”

“You might regret saying that!” Gojo calls from the back, and Shoko silences him with a glare.

“Are you coming or not?”

Gojo grins and finishes up whatever he’s putting away in the storage room, then strides out and leans his elbows on the counter.

“Do you mind if I record?” You point to the open voice memo app. “Makes it easier to quote you correctly.” You also just hate running interviews when you’re scribbling hand-written notes the whole time. You’d much rather have a genuine conversation and worry about the details later.

Shoko waves a hand airily. “No problem.”

“Absolutely,” Gojo says. “You can probably sell that for thousands.”

You set the phone on the counter, next to one of the tiny pumpkins scattered across it in celebration of the beginning of October. You and Toge bounce back and forth as you run through the standard start-of-interview checklist, having them spell out their names, getting their ages, hometowns, degrees, all that jazz. And then you launch into the stuff you really care about.

“So, you opened The Fix about ten years ago now, correct?”

Shoko nods. “Yeah, a little over two years after we graduated.”

You look at Gojo, whose eyes are even more alarmingly blue in the daylight. “And you were hired right away?”

“Utahime first, then me,” he nods. “Best for last, y’know.”

Shoko snorts. “We knew each other in school. I just took pity on him.” She smirks as Gojo’s jaw drops. “You can quote that.”

“Right, so all of you were friends in college. And you came together to start this place—what was the idea behind it?” Toge chimes in. “You said you studied nursing, Shoko?”

And you sit and listen as Shoko explains. Back in college, she was at the top of her class. By graduation, she’d been accepted to basically all the best med schools. She had her pick. She could do whatever she wanted. But she realized that what she wanted wasn’t that at all.

The medical field is brutal, she tells you. It’s all late nights and emotional burnout. People yelling at you, misplaced anger when you give them the bad news. Getting attached to people only to watch them waste away.

“I needed to get out before I got too far in. Maybe it was selfish,” she admits. “But I wasn’t cut out for it. I have so much admiration for medical professionals, but I couldn’t be one of them. A few clinicals and I was already feeling the consequences of giving too much of myself and getting nothing back.” She shrugs. “So I named it The Fix, as some kind of homage to the medical background. And I figured I’d just make sure it’s safe.”

Something sits heavy in her gaze as she stares at something behind you, middle distance, like she’s remembering.

“Why a college bar?” you ask, nudging the phone across the counter to pick up her voice better. “I mean, the extra security, thinking about underage drinking, dealing with a bunch of broke university kids. You could’ve just as easily opened a different bar in a more lucrative area. What was the appeal?”

She smiles crookedly. “Appeal. Well. My senior year, I was working in the local ER. And I saw… god. So many kids came in there needing their stomachs pumped, or kids who’d done laced drugs, gotten roofied, harassed, it was… I mean, it was a city university club scene. They weren’t safe. And I just felt like I needed to give them that. I couldn’t stay there as a nurse or a doctor. But I could do this.” She shrugs. “Sorry. That was probably way too much.”

“No,” you say quickly, smiling at her. “That was—that’s what we came here for. Shoko, that’s amazing. And it’s not selfish, taking care of yourself. You’re still here taking care of others.”

You don’t know Gojo well. Most of your stories about him come secondhand from Nobara, who knows him through Megumi. She paints the picture of a flamboyant, obnoxious bartender who’s more like a weird uncle to her than anything. From what you’ve seen of him at The Fix, you know this to be mostly accurate—he’s rarely serious, always taking flack from the students and giving it right back, ragging on Utahime, begging Shoko to play his playlist instead of Geto’s and knowing she’ll never cave. But now, as he listens intently to Shoko, you think you’re seeing another side of him.

There’s something troubled on his face as she speaks, like he wishes he could reach into the past and help. Like he regrets it.

The bar’s not the only thing that has a different side in the daylight.

“She’s right,” Gojo tells Shoko. It’s not much, but she looks up at him a bit surprised, something in her expression softening. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, not quite there but not quite not. “You’ve got a pretty big heart under all that RBF.” Shoko rolls her eyes, the moment over.

“What about you?” You turn to Gojo, nudging the phone his way. “Why a college bar?”

Shoko turns toward him, leaning a hip against the bar, just as curious as you are. “I think kids deserve to be kids,” he shrugs. “And if I—if we—can create a space where it’s actually safe for them to do that, it feels important.” His gaze shifts from you and Toge to the empty bar, the stage and floor and high-top tables that tomorrow will be full of music and laughter and students knowing they’re allowed to let loose here.

“There aren’t a lot of places out there that are exclusively for students,” he continues. “It’s this weird phase, college, where you’re figuring out who you are, trying to take risks without losing too much. It’s a lot. And you look at the crime rates, date rape drugs, theft, DUIs, in the city, and it’s just—this place gives them the room to learn and grow and mess around and have a good time without the danger of the… I don’t know. The outside world. Does that make sense?”

He drums his fingers on the countertop, then seems to abruptly remember the recording and stops. “I think it’s just… well, no one’s allowed to take youth away from young people. So that’s why I’m here.”

You wonder what Gojo was like in school. He majored in gender studies, which you’re pretty sure is what Todo is at least minoring in, too—you’re not sure how it’s applicable to anything, but Nobara says he likes to pull his diploma out from behind the bar and say he’s an expert in women. It seems a far cry from this rare, more subdued version of Gojo you’re seeing right now. You’d guess he’s grown quite a bit in the time he’s been here. And Shoko’s been here to witness it.

He’s not a business owner, like Shoko or Geto. And according to Nobara, he definitely doesn’t need this gig to make a living. He’s here because he wants to be.

“These last few years have been nice, in particular,” he offers. “Just ‘cause some of us have kids going here. I mean, you know the Fushiguros. Suguru’s got the twins. And I know Ino’s not Nanami’s kid, but they’re tight.”

“Wait, what?” Nanami is the bar’s primary security guy, a bouncer who never lets a fake ID fool him. He’s part of the reason this place is so safe. Toge spins to look at you as you blurt out the question, caught off guard. “Uh, sorry. I just didn’t—I didn’t know they knew each other.”

Shoko studies you with tired, intelligent eyes, and you can’t help but feel the tables have been entirely flipped. You’re the one being interrogated, wordlessly, by the woman across the counter. You feel like every thought in your head is scrawled across your face for her to read.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, unaffected. “Ino looks up to him a lot, I think. Even though he’s an old man who reads the newspaper for fun.” He snorts. “He’s a good guy, though. And Ino’s a good kid.” He finally clocks the way Shoko’s looking at you and cocks his head, appraising.

Thankfully, Toge cuts in with another question. “So, we’ll be around tomorrow for the bands and to take some photos and observe,” he explains, glancing at you to make sure he’s got the information right. “Will Geto be around?” You’d wanted both owners’ perspectives, and now that Gojo’s reminded you of the twins, you’re even more curious.

“Yeah, Suguru and Utahime will be here tomorrow night,” Shoko says. “And Nanami. Geto would totally be down to talk to you some other time, too, when it’s a bit quieter.”

“Amazing,” you say, pulling the phone back toward you. You’ll need details, follow-ups, but you need to process this first, write some things down while they’re fresh in your mind. ‘Thank you so much for this. We appreciate it.”

“Anytime, kid,” Shoko says, waving you off. “See you tomorrow.”

As you turn off the recording, Gojo and Toge have already devolved into conversation about the bands and predictions about tomorrow night. A few posters are scattered across a low table near the door, and you pick one up, smiling at the blocky lettering advertising Black Flash. There are posters advertising all of the artists, and they look amazing, straight out of one of the alt rock venues in the wider city.

“They’re sick, right?” Gojo calls, nodding to the posters. “I gotta hang those up, actually. Thanks for the reminder.”

You wave goodbye to Shoko and Gojo and lead the way out, Toge just behind you.

“Man,” he says, and you brace yourself, recognizing his teasing tone for what it is. “They said Ino’s name and you look like scared Bambi or some shit.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, elbowing him.

He holds his hands up. “I’m just living in pursuit of the truth! Like Kusakabe would want.”

“Is your camera battery charged for tomorrow?” you say in a blatant attempt at a topic change.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Toge Inumaki, chronically irresponsible student and—”

“Okay, sorry I asked, holy shit.” He sticks his tongue out at you. Then he hesitates, frowning, and then he’s pulling out his phone and calling someone in his favorites list before you can see who it is. “Hey,” he greets. “What? No, she didn’t kick me out. Hey. Hey.” You snicker and Toge glares at you, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Yutaaa,” he whines. “Do you know where my camera battery is?”

—

Even when you’re not the one on stage, you live for Fridays at The Fix. Tonight you’re doing double duty—because of the dual elimination at the end of the round, all of the competing artists are here. It’s not a requirement, but you want to see what you’re up against, and the sentiment seems to have carried. You and Toge are also in reporting mode for your project story.

The band on stage right now is… well, you can’t say new wave metal is really your thing, but it’s definitely theirs, and the audience is loving it. The Cull, you write in your notes. Look up names.

You couldn’t make out the lyrics if your life depended on it. It’s three guys and a girl, vaguely familiar, but you’re fairly certain they’re seniors and absolutely certain they’re baked right now.

“God, this is loud.” Yuta winces, turning to face you, and then his eyes flicker to something over your shoulder. You divert your attention from the stage and just catch the brief commotion in your periphery. Nanami has a kid by the elbow, and he’s escorting him out the side door, expressionless. The kid’s obviously drunk out of his mind, tripping over himself, shouting something that Nanami doesn’t bother to respond to.

Maki follows your gaze and wrinkles her nose up in distaste.

“Who’s that?”

“My cousin,” she says flatly. You glance quizzically at Megumi, who is definitely standing five feet away and not being escorted out of the bar.

“Dude, how much family do you have at this school?”

She sighs. “Just Mai and Megumi and him. Naoya. He’s a piece of shit.”

“Clearly,” Toge says. “He broke the M theme. No respect for the family alliteration.” Maki kicks him in the shin.

“One last round for The Cull!” Panda calls from the stage, and your ears slowly, very gradually stop ringing with the raging new wave music. The stage techs get to work behind Panda as he introduces the next group.

“Up next, making their debut, we’ve got a sophomore girl pop trio. Give it up for MOTION CAPTURE!”

There’s a big cheer from the bar, and you turn to see Geto grinning. Three girls take the stage, the blonde one grabbing the mic and adding, “All caps!” The girl beside her is very obviously her twin sister, though her hair is straight and dark while the blonde’s is tugged into pigtails. Light and dark. The girl on keys has a long, black bubble braid that she pushes out of the way as she settles in to play.

The blonde plugs in her electric and calls out, “Alright, I’m Nanako.” She tests out a chord, the sound reverberating, filling the bar all the way up to its high ceilings. “That’s Mimiko, that’s Remi, and we’re just here to have a good time.”

“Hey,” a voice says behind you, and you jump. You turn to find Takuma holding two drinks, offering one to you.

“Oh! Aw, thanks, you didn’t have to do that. How much do I owe you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Takuma—”

“Nothing,” he reiterates. “Anyway, The Cull. Thoughts?”

You take the drink and try it while you think on your answer—it’s the same thing Nobara got you last week. How did he know?

“I didn’t really understand any of the lyrics,” you admit, shrugging. “They weren’t bad. Not really my genre. Do you know them?”

Takuma shakes his head. “I had a gen ed once with that Rin kid, but I don’t know the other ones. These girls aren’t bad, though.” He’s right—they’ve launched into an Olivia Rodrigo cover that’s actually decent. They could work on their voice control, but they’re young and fun and having a good time and working the crowd, and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

You sing along, alternating between your drink and exchanging quips with Toge and talking with Takuma. You like this new balance between your band and his, the easy camaraderie.

When the girls wrap up their set, you whoop and cheer and Kirara shamelessly watches Hakari move things off the stage, arms bare in his cut-off tank.

“You’re subtle,” Takuma tells her, and she tugs his beanie down over his face.

“Hey!”

You grab his drink before he can spill it and grin as he yanks his hat off and readjusts it. His hair is a fluffy mess underneath, and it’s kind of endearing.

When the girl pop trio is done, two guys take the stage, one in white and one in black. They’re clearly related, dark hair and pale skin and piercing eyes, and Panda introduces them as the Kamos. You don’t know if they’re brothers or cousins or what. But they’re good—they sing a few alt rock covers, play guitar.

“Damn,” Nobara sighs, a little longingly, her gaze settling on Choso as he takes over the chorus. “They’re…”

Beside her, Yuji wrinkles his nose. “Dude. That’s my half-brother.”

Nobara hums noncommittally. “And?”

He groans, tipping his head back and staring at the exposed beams of the ceiling, run through with colored lights. “Why does this always happen?”

Toge is taking more photos of them than is strictly necessary, considering your story is about the bar and not the band, but you let him have this. Scattered throughout the crowd are more kids with cameras, freshmen from the entry-level reporting classes with big underage stamps on the backs of their hands. Somebody mistook Toge for one of them earlier, and Maki hasn’t let it go all night.

You jot down atmospheric notes on your phone, little things that’ll help set the scene for your project lede, keeping an eye on the bar as much as you can. Geto has jumped in at the bar, which he usually does when the place gets busy, and Gojo is terrorizing Utahime again.

“How’d your interview go?” Takuma asks, nodding at your notes. It shouldn’t faze you so much that he remembers what you told him about your story, but you can’t help the little kick of your heart in your chest at the reminder.

“Good! Really good.” And then you catch sight of Nanami, back at the door after calling a cab for Maki’s asshat cousin. “Actually, Gojo mentioned you.”

Takuma’s brows shoot up. “Gojo? Why?”

Nanami has always seemed incredibly reserved, stony and silent in a way Takuma has never been. You don’t want to pry, but you’re also curious about the relationship between them, how they met, what they are to each other. The journalist in you wants to know.

And then there’s the part of you that just wants to know Takuma.

“Well, he was talking about the twins and the Fushiguros, and he kind of mentioned something about you knowing Nanami?” You try to sound casual, jerking your chin toward the door where Nanami is posted, like a tall, blond guard dog.

“Oh,” he says, surprised, but he shrugs, not seeming too alarmed by the question. “Yeah, I’ve known Nanami for… a long time. He’s kind of a mentor. He’s the reason I met Fushiguro in the first place, actually, ‘cause of him knowing Gojo.”

You’re considering asking how exactly they did meet when the Kamos wrap up, Nobara staring up at them dreamily, and the stage clears out for the final artist.

Whatever questions you had are thrown out the window, because you know who this is. Everyone knows who this is.

Fifth-year student and resident SoundCloud rapper, Ryomen Sukuna. Or D!SH0NORED1, according to the posters.

“Oh, here we go,” Megumi groans.

Despite his reputation on campus, you don’t know anyone who’s actually close to Sukuna, except Uruame. You mostly know that he deals at the skate park and that he’s clean about it.

And that his raps are truly, genuinely horrible.

He lets Panda give a stilted introduction and launches into a verse, mic too close to his mouth, making hand gestures or stepping to the beat of his backing track. His tattoos are even more stark and bold under the stage lights.

“My blood type’s B, your type is me, my zodiac Caprisun, it might be controversial but you’re still lookin’ at me, son!”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Kirara mutters. “I’m gonna bleach my eardrums.”

“Caprisun?” Nobara whispers. “Oh, dude.”

You might be a terrible person for thinking it, but watching this guy’s performance makes you feel infinitely better about your odds of advancing in the tournament.

His final song is a new one he introduces as Frosted Flexin’, and Maki looks like she’s about ready to keel over dead.

“Frosted flexin’, I'm the cereal king, pourin' oat milk in the mix, yeah, I'm doin' my thing,” Sukuna spits in his low voice, swaggering up to the front of the stage. You are trying so hard not to lose it.

“Sukuna being an oat milk truther wasn’t on my bingo card,” Toge says.

“Got the swag of a squirrel and the brain of a dove, call me trash, but you're still showin' me love.”

“Thoughts on the amount of swag a given squirrel possesses?” you ask Takuma. He laughs, loud and bright, and then seems to very seriously consider the question.

“I don’t know if campus squirrels have swag. They live in luxury. They probably eat better than we do,” he says. You can’t argue that—you did once see a squirrel outside your sociology class run by with a full bagel in its mouth. “The wilderness squirrels, though, I think they got a scrappy kind of swag. Like, I wouldn’t cross them.”

You nod sagely. “I want them on my team in the apocalypse.”

He nudges you with a shoulder. “Am I on your team?”

You glance at him, make a show of looking him up and down. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think he’s blushing a little. “I don’t know. How fast can you climb a tree?”

Sukuna is nearing the end of his song, now, saying, “Off-tune, out of sync, yeah, I know it's a sin, but you'll play it back twice 'cause I still might win.”

He actually, physically drops the mic and Hakari swoops in and catches it, clearing his throat and saying into it, “Yep, friendly reminder that equipment’s expensive! Everyone give our last artist of the night a hand, yeah?”

There’s scattered applause and more than a few confused faces as Sukuna lopes off stage, and Panda hops back up to explain the voting system for anyone who wasn’t here last week. “QR codes to the Google form are posted around the bar,” he says.

Out of all eight artists, the bottom two will be eliminated. You’re nervous. But voting was open last week too. You can’t vote as a member of the band, and it’s all done through school Google accounts to avoid double votes or the link getting sent out to non-students.

“Open until tomorrow morning,” Panda reminds the audience. “Results and second round schedules will be posted on the Instagram at some point tomorrow! That’s it for this Friday at The Fix. Have a great night, folks. Get home safe.”

Gojo whoops dramatically from the bar, and Panda gives him a weird look before getting off stage.

Your friends start heading toward the door, and you grab Toge and excuse yourself to catch Geto at the bar. Gojo sees you first. “The newsies!” he calls.

“Like the musical?” you say in lieu of a greeting. “Banger soundtrack.”

“I could dance on newspapers,” Toge says.

“Geto!” The Fix’s other owner smiles at you, soft and genuine. Part of his dark hair is pulled back and the rest hangs loose over his shoulders, a stark contrast to Gojo—like the Kamos, you think, or like Nanako and Mimiko. Light and dark. “We were wondering if you’d be down to set up a time to talk. Has Gojo told you about our story at all?”

Geto smiles, drying a glass and leaning against the bar. “He told me he’s gonna be the front page of every paper in the city, which I assume is a horrid exaggeration,” he says. Gojo looks affronted. “Shoko mentioned you’re doing a feature for class, though. I’d be happy to.”

“We have our Monday night class time open for field reporting the week after this one,” Toge offers. “Will you be around?”

“I will indeed. Utahime, too, if you want to speak to both of us. And Gojo won’t be here, which might be beneficial for you.”

“Suguru,” Gojo gasps, pretending to stagger back. “You wound me.”

“Mhm,” he says, unaffected. “What time works best for you two?”

You set up a time to interview Geto and Utahime, then say goodbye to him and Gojo and run to catch up to your friends. It’s a nice night, and since you didn’t have to deal with instruments, you all decided to walk.

“How goes the… journalisming? Journaling?” Takuma asks when you fall into step beside him.

“Good, all good. Reporting is maybe a better word, but valiant effort.”

“I like journalisming. Can you just submit words to the official dictionary? I’m gonna do it.”

“No,” Toge says, and you blink. He shrugs. “What? I tried once. But the only submission form I could find was for the Bureau of Linguistical Reality and it wasn’t like, a legitimate dictionary form. There’s all these requirements, it’s horrible.”

“What word did you try to submit?” you ask warily, not sure if you actually want to know.

“Some things,” Toge says solemnly, “are better kept secret.”

The night is hazy, only small rays of moonlight piercing through the cloud cover, and you make your way through the campus roads guided only by the streetlamps and Maki’s reliable sense of direction.

Part of you wants to ask Takuma to come over, or Yuji to insist the band come over to his place again, just so you can keep talking. But you have work to do, things to write and transcribe, lists of follow-up questions to make, and that’s only your workload for this one class. You still have exams this week, and you need to study now so you can balance it with rehearsals. Assuming you actually advanced to round two, that is.

And part of you worries you might be taking this too fast, too. You don’t typically integrate people into your life so quickly. You like spending time with Takuma and Kirara and Yuji and even Megumi, though he’s pretty quiet. You just don’t want to jump in too far too fast.

At your place, you say your goodbyes and head up to your room to get some work done. Toge uploads his photos and puts them in your project folder on Drive. And you spend the night doing what you do best, aside from drumming—writing.

Youth for the young: JU alumni run safest live music bar in city limits

You don’t even notice the time until it’s past one in the morning, and you’re nearly asleep at your desk. The dark has crept across your room, the only source of light the desk lamp and your laptop screen. Finally, you push the computer shut and flick off the light, flopping into your bed. A few missed messages pop up when you hold your phone up, wincing at the bright screen.

takuma: just letting you know i made the treacherous journey home safely takuma: many miles of hardship takuma: thought i was gonna die halfway there

You smirk and type out a reply.

you: did kirara have to save you takuma: i resent that takuma: (yes) takuma: wait why are you up it’s so late you: journalisming you: why are YOU up takuma: travel adrenaline takuma: (coding project due monday that i just started) you: TAKUMA

The next text to come through is a voice note, and you can’t help smiling as you hit play and his voice fills the open air of your bedroom.

“Okay, in my defense, I thought it was due next Monday. Which maybe isn’t my defense because it means I just can’t read due dates, or maybe I just can’t read, but I thought I had a lot more time and then one of my classmates texted me asking for help on this block of code and I told him I hadn’t started and he was like oh my god, Ino, it’s due in three days, and I was like no it’s not, we have so much time—turns out we don’t have so much time, so I’m over here staring at my screen until the vessels in my eyes pop—”

He yawns, and it makes you yawn too, despite the screen separating you. “Sorry, agh. Anyway, I have to write this program that uses some kind of randomized generator…”

You find your eyelids fighting gravity, exhaustion washing over you as he explains the project and all the reasons he’s not that worried about getting it done by Monday because actually he’s on a roll and it turns out the code isn’t that different from a similar project he did last year so he can just lift the main blocks over and wow, he’s tired, and you stifle a laugh as the voice memo comes to an end and he says, “Okay, gosh, I should go to bed. You should go to bed. Stop journalisming, Skip, get some sleep. G’night.”

You grin, plugging your phone in and sending him a voice memo of your own.

“I’m done journalisming. Still haven’t written that story on you, though. Night, Takuma.”

The last thing you see before you fall asleep is his reaction to your text. It’s a thumbs up, but after a few seconds, it disappears, replaced with a heart.

—

“I’m gonna die,” Nobara groans.

You’ve been checking Instagram every hour on the hour for the bracket results, but to no avail. The five of you are sprawled out in the living room, a Fleetwood Mac record spinning in the corner, cups of coffee and tea and scattered remnants of breakfast dotting the table and the floor and the windowsill.

You have post notifications on for the Battle of the Bands Instagram page, but you check anyway, as if you somehow missed it.

“Okay,” Maki says. “Cut it out. No phones.”

“Maki,” Toge groans. “How do we live with the suspense?”

“Go around and give a rundown of your week?” Yuta suggests.

“Aw, highs and lows, it’s like elementary school,” Nobara says happily. “I’ll go first! High: annoying slacker guy in my marketing class got a shit grade on the group project and the rest of us got As. Low: Skipper won’t give me Ino lore.”

“Lore,” you mimic. “I don’t have any lore. We’ve known each other for like, two weeks.”

“That’s enough time for lore,” she insists. “What’s your high? Ino?”

“Okay, jeez,” you say. “Maybe it’s that Toge and I had a really good first interview for our project story.”

Toge blinks at you.

“Fine, maybe it’s Takuma.”

Nobara grins in a way you can only describe as malicious. “Okay,” you say, pointing at her. “Low: whatever that is.” She sticks her tongue out at you.

“My low is Skipper bullying me in class,” Toge says. “And my high is she said she’d be my partner, so I’m not gonna fail.”

Yuta nods sagely. “Maki?”

“Uhh,” she says eloquently. “My parents won’t stop pestering me about fall break. But I aced a test on Thursday in anthro, so there’s that.”

“You’re not going home, right?” you ask. She shakes her head resolutely. Maki doesn’t go home unless she absolutely has to—one thing she and Mai actually have in common.

All of your phones go off at once, a mix of buzzes and beeps and Apple watchfaces lighting up, and Nobara screams. “I can’t look!” she cries. “Someone tell me!”

You click on the notification and pull up the post, heart racing.

The first slide is a generic Battle of the Bands announcement with the cool ass graphics you’ve been seeing on the posters. Whoever designs those needs a raise. The second image is the bracket for next Friday, with the first knockout round of three—only one group will move on to the finals. “Who is it?” Nobara asks anxiously, pacing the room. “Oh god, I’m gonna die.”

“Shibuya Incident,” you read off, unable to keep the smile from your face. “Angel.” Nobara groans overdramatically. “And the Kamos.”

You swipe to the next screen, heart in your throat. OCTOBER 18, it reads. THE CULL. CURSED TECHNIQUE. BLACK FLASH.

“Oh my god!” you scream. “Oh my god, we made it!”

Toge yanks you to your feet and starts hopping around the living room, and Nobara shrieks with joy as you pull her into the celebration. Even Maki and Yuta are sporting wide smiles as they watch the three of you bounce around like kids on a sugar rush.

“What, no Sukuna?” Maki teases when you’ve calmed down. Toge clears his throat and does his best impression, going as far as to make his pants sag a little around his waist.

“Frosted flexin’, I’m the cereal king, pourin’… uh, duh nuh nuh, something doin’ my thing,” he says in a deep voice. “Uh… squirrel? Somethin’ fuego, that’s Spanish, uhhh…”

“Oh my god, let me look it up,” Nobara cackles, pulling up SoundCloud. “It’s I’m the king of bad decisions, got a throne made of Legos, took a bite of my mic and said these bars are fuego.”

Yuta physically winces. “Does he really sag his pants like that?”

Toge shrugs. “It felt right in the moment.”

“Wait, who’s the other one eliminated, then?” you ask, running through the bands in your head. Yours, Takuma’s, Black Flash, the Kamos…

“Motion Capture,” Maki says.

“No, it’s all caps. You have to shout it. MOTION CAPTURE!” Toge hollers. Nobara snorts.

You aren’t entirely surprised, but you have a feeling the girls aren’t too put out about it. They’re young, too—they’ll have their time to shine eventually.

You grin, flopping back onto the couch. “Okay, rehearsal when? Tonight?”

“Yeah, I have to go to a friend’s to figure some stuff out for a project, but I’ll be back at like… five?” Yuta says.

“Oh, fuck, I gotta go too!” Nobara says, darting toward the stairs.

“Group project?” Maki asks.

“Shopping! I gotta pick Miwa up in like, ten minutes!”

Maki rolls her eyes fondly. Yuta stands up and grabs his bag, heading toward the entryway, and the rest of you gravitate instinctually to the kitchen. Nobara is out the door moments later with a wave and a shout, and Toge grins.

“What,” Maki deadpans, not a question.

“I printed memes to hide on her Polaroid wall. Be right back.”

You snort, turning your attention to the window to watch Nobara cruise down the block. The view of her sleek, small car is interrupted by Yuta’s jungle of plants.

“I hope they’re not too cold,” he says, frowning as he tugs a jacket on over his white hoodie. “Do they look okay to you?”

“Yeah,” you say, pointing to the one in the white, ovular pot. “Especially this one, it’s getting so big! What’s his name, Snorlax?” Yuta had a phase where he named at least six plants in a row after Pokèmon.

“No, that one’s Rika, after that TV show,” Maki corrects, not looking up. Yuta blinks, looks between her and the plant, whose vines have started to creep up the window. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Both of your eyes on her have her looking up from her phone, expression flat and unaffected. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I didn’t know… anyone paid attention.”

Maki shrugs. “You talk to them out loud.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Yuta laughs and waves one last time before he walks out, closing the door behind him. You count to five in your head and then whirl on Maki, entirely unable to keep the shit-eating grin off your face.

“Kowalski, status report.”

She blinks at you. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I know, just—on what? What happened?”

You groan, dragging the heels of your hands down your face. “Maki. Please.” You gesture wildly between her and the door, wondering if she’s genuinely this oblivious or if she’s just as good a liar as Mai. “Are you—did we not just witness the same interaction? Jesus, Maki, put the boy out of his misery!”

Seeing Maki frazzled is not a common occurrence. The most agitated you ever see her is talking about her family or trading passive aggressive jabs with Mai. This is an entirely new sort of disarray—she’s flustered.

“I—what?! I can’t do that! And he’s not miserable. He’s that nice to everyone.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands with your elbows on the counter. “Maki! He likes you. And your face is telling me you like him back.”

She scoffs, turning her head down and crossing her arms defensively. “I’m not messing things up by dating my bandmate. We live together, Skip, he’s my best friend, if things got messy—”

You hold up a hand. “First of all, offensive. I’m your best friend. Second of all, I hear no denial. Also, it won’t get messy. You are the two most mature people in this house and you know how to separate personal from practical. If anything, it’s gonna kill the vibes of the band and the house if you just keep stewing in the sexual tension.”

“Oh my god,” Maki groans. “There. Is. No. Sexual. Tension.”

“There’s always sexual tension,” Toge announces, walking in and jumping up onto the countertop, legs swinging. He looks between the two of you innocently. “What are we talking about?”

“You might be of some help, actually,” you say, turning to Toge with your hands clasped.

“Uh, actually? Not oh, Toge, you’re always so helpful, thank god you live with me and keep my life interesting—”

“Nevermind.”

“No, pleeease,” Toge insists, sticking out his lower lip. “What?” His gaze shifts to Maki, who’s blushing a furious red. His mouth turns into a small O. “This is about Yuta?”

You didn’t think she could get any more scarlet, but here she is.

“Does everyone think that?” she groans, throwing her head back in exasperation.

Toge shrugs. “I thought we were all just quietly skirting around it until you both snapped.”

“Nobara doesn’t skirt around anything,” Maki says.

“Well, there’s no way she doesn’t know,” you point out. “Maybe she just respects both of you enough to leave it alone.”

“Hah!” Toge snorts, poking you in the ribs. “That means she doesn’t respect you. She wants the Ino lore.”

“I’m gonna tell Nobara about the memes.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Abruptly, you realize you never got around to Yuta for highs and lows, what with the chaos of the brackets dropping. “Ah, guys,” you say. “We missed Yuta.” You pull up the house group chat.

you: YUTA DROP YOUR HIGH AND LOW IN THE CHAT you: YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN freak no. 1: yes you are utah: haha aw that’s nice utah disliked a message from freak no. 1 utah: uhh low is maybe that toge keeps leaving memes all over our room. like i keep finding them tucked in my notebooks and everything freak no. 1: SLANDER freak no. 1: LIBEL you: not the same thing freak no. 1: SHUT UP utah: high is someone remembers the names of my plants!! :) nobara: Sorry, using voice text while I drive. Who knows the names of your plants? You and God? utah: maki! :)

“Okay, well, respond,” Toge says, poking Maki in the side. She glares at him and likes Yuta’s message.

“Guys,” she says exasperatedly. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Does he know?”

And you’re not sure, honestly. You don’t know that Yuta is even aware of his own feelings, let alone aware that Maki reciprocates them. You shrug helplessly. “How about… ask?”

“Jesus,” Maki says.

“Not him, Yuta.”

Maki socks Toge in the shoulder and levels him with a disdainful look. “You are the bane of my existence.”

“And the object of all your desires,” Toge proclaims in a horrendous Bridgerton accent. He made you watch all of it with him in two days. Maki refused.

Now, she just shoves him, and he squeals as he falls off the kitchen counter.

“Children,” you sigh. “Do you need to be separated?”

“Yes!”

—

“Why is this so hard?” You stand with your feet planted on Takuma’s skateboard, which is confoundingly, entirely different than balancing atop your longboard. “Oh my god.” You lurch forward as the board rolls a bit to the left, unable to stifle the squeal that comes out of your mouth.

Takuma stops it with one foot.

“Your center of balance is lower on a longboard,” he laughs. “Like, here.” His hands wrap around your waist and you tense under his grip, and he immediately freezes, jerking his arms back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No! No, it’s okay,” you blurt, sheepish. “I just wasn’t expecting it, I—here.” You try to fight the blush furiously rising in your cheeks as you take his wrists in both hands, putting them back where they were. You clear your throat, suddenly too warm. “Um. Okay, so—do you turn the same way?”

“Pretty much. You just lean,” Takuma says, and you shift your weight to your heels, letting him steady you. “It’s a bit harsher than you would on a longboard, though. Unless you want me to send you right into kickturns?” His tone is teasing and you pretend to consider, tapping a finger against your chin.

“Mm. Maybe later.”

You’ve been at the skate park for a while now, and you’ve only recently ditched your longboard for the skateboard. Takuma brought the extra board you saw hanging on his wall the other day, and he uses it to demonstrate while you practice riding back and forth, getting a hold on your balance. After you feel like you can make it a good distance without pinwheeling your arms, you come to a staggered stop beside him.

A flash of blue-green hair grabs your attention, and you watch a kid in a lightning bolt hoodie slip under the ramps. The park has been pretty deserted today aside from a few guys doing tricks in the pit, a chilly Sunday with the sunlight muted by the clouds.

“Ooh, drug deal in action.” You poke Takuma in the side.

“Ah, probably Sukuna. He deals here all the time.” Sukuna’s business is one of those things everyone’s aware of but nobody talks about. He’s consistent and pretty safe, as far as drug dealers go, but he’ll deny any involvement while smoking a joint if he has to.

“Who’s space buns?”

“Uhh…” Takuma narrows his eyes, and the guy slips out again. “Damn, that was fast. Oh, that’s Hajime. Another senior, I think. They hate each other. Fastest deals I’ve ever seen.”

“I wonder how much of his songwriting is just… while he’s really, really high,” you muse. Swag of a squirrel doesn’t strike you as a particularly levelheaded thought, but hey, it’s certainly memorable.

Takuma leans in and says conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure I heard him dropping bars here the other day when I was with Yuji.”

You snort and look up at one of the smallest ramps, one you think you could handle without falling on your face, and point to it with a raised brow.

“Oh, moving up in the world?” Takuma kicks his board up and starts walking over, and you do the same. Before you put the board down at the top of the ramp, though, you hold it up to the light, noticing a few short, white hairs caught on the surface.

“Is this… fur?” Maybe there was a cat hiding out somewhere when you were over. Kirara seems like she’d have a cat.

Takuma sighs. “Yeah, the dogs shed like crazy. It gets everywhere. I don’t think I even left that on the ground.”

Your jaw drops, and you stare at him until he looks back at you. “Dogs?”

“What? Yeah, Fushiguro’s—”

“Fushiguro has dogs? Dogs plural? In the house?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” you cry. “What? Oh my god! Where were they on Wednesday? How many? What are their names?”

Takuma leans back on the rail next to the ramp, grinning. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. Oh my god. They’re so cute. Tsumiki had them Wednesday, I think. Mandated auntie time. Do you wanna meet ‘em?”

“Do I want to meet them?” you repeat, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Uh, yeah. Are they home? Oh my god. I love dogs.”

“I couldn’t tell,” he deadpans, but he’s smiling still. “Yeah, they’re home. And you can meet them if you go down this ramp without dying.”

“You’re cruel,” you say, situating yourself on the board. “But I will. And then I’ll meet the dogs and become their best friend and they’ll love me more than you and Megumi combined.”

“Confident.” He comes up beside you, checking your stance. The ramp didn’t look steep or long at all from your vantage point across the park, but now that you’re atop the board, it feels suddenly very steep and very long. “You got it. Just don’t panic, keep your stance.” He drops his own board and cruises down the ramp, hardly even trying.

“Okay, go!” he calls from the bottom. “C’mon, Skip, the dogs are waiting.”

“Oh, god,” you murmur, the wind catching your words and whisking them away. You ball your hands into fists and push off, planting your foot back on the board and trying to keep your knees bent, but not too stiff, as you careen down the ramp. Don’t panic, keep your stance. You’re at the bottom in what feels like nanoseconds, and the sudden shift from ramp to flat ground has you stumbling off the board with an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak of alarm.

“Nice!” Takuma laughs as he catches you, the board rolling a few more feet ahead. His arm is wrapped around your front, the other holding you up by the shoulder, and this time you don’t tense under his hands.

“Thanks,” you say a little breathlessly, grinning, the tiny spike of adrenaline making you almost lightheaded. He lets his hands drop when you’re steady on your feet, and part of you mourns the warmth a little. But there are more pressing matters at hand. “So, about those dogs?”

You opt for your longboard on the way back down your street, cruising along beside Takuma, who has his extra board tucked under his arm. You’ve got a lot to do tonight, all the last-minute preparation for another crazy week, but you can and will drop everything to pet a puppy. Or two. Always.

And they’re actual angels. Big, fluffy angels on earth, one white and one black, and they’re all over you the second you open the door.

“Hi!” you say happily, sinking down to their level. The white one immediately tries to burrow into your lap. “Oh, hello! You’re so nice, aren’t you?” You glance up at Takuma. “Where’s Megumi?” You grab the white one’s collar and check the tag—Shiro.

“Shiro thinks she’s a tiny dog,” he says, bending down to ruffle the fur behind her ears. “Uh, Fushiguro’s at the animal clinic. He works there Sundays. And Tuesdays, I think.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, he’s a vet student. You didn’t know?”

“I did not.” The black one is licking your face, and you giggle and check his tag, too. Kuro. “Hi, Kuro. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“He’s got such a soft spot for animals,” Takuma says as he kicks off his shoes. “You should see when they both try to sleep in his little twin bed. It’s ridiculous.”

“I love them,” you say, burying your face in Kuro’s scruff. “Hi, doggies. You’re awful cute, you know that? Mhm. Yes you are.”

When you finally look up again, Kuro’s cold nose nudging insistently at your palm, Takuma is leaning against the wall, looking down at you with his phone discreetly angled your way. “Takuma!”

He laughs, not bothering to hide it anymore, very clearly taking photos of you with the dogs. “It’s cute!” he insists. “I’ll send them to you. Proof for Fushiguro of your master plan to make them like you more than him.”

“And you,” you remind him.

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

You gesture pointedly to the two dogs, who are all over you and not him. It’ll be a nightmare trying to get all of Shiro’s white fur off your black jacket later, but it’s worth it.

“You’re new,” he says. “New scent. It’s the novelty factor. I am their favorite.”

“You sure? I’m pretty hard to compete with.”

He smiles, looking from you to the photos he took of you and the dogs. “Yeah,” he says. “You are.”

—

The first half of the new week goes by in a rushed routine of classes, homework, and rehearsals, each night ending with you collapsing into bed, new and old lyrics fighting for dominance in the back of your mind. Sticks re-taped and drum heads re-tuned, assignments turned in and drafts edited. Your classes are ramping up as midterms approach, and Yuta bounces between his own work and poking his head into everyone’s rooms, making sure they don’t forget about dinner.

Toge follows through on his snack run promise, and the two of you spend hours on Tuesday afternoon trading two different flavored bags of Doritos back and forth, Toge writing photo captions while you edit your story lede.

Takuma, Hakari, and Kirara have offered to help Cursed Technique record a single on Wednesday night, and the five of you have been drilling the new song you wrote up, down, and sideways.

Finally, Wednesday arrives, and you’re all crammed into the recording studio space, instruments set up and headsets tuned in.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nobara says to Hakari on the other side of the glass. She taps a finger on the mic in demonstration, and you hear it in your own headphones.

“Great,” he says. “Skipper?”

“Skipper? I hardly know her,” Toge says, earning a harmless smack upside the head from Yuta and a not harmless smack upside the head from Maki.

“I will throw these at you,” you tell him, holding up your sticks. Toge sticks his bottom lip out, pouting.

A snicker from beside you draws your attention back to Takuma, kneeling just beside the throne as he adjusts the kick mic. He has you hit it a few times while Hakari monitors the levels. You feel oddly self-conscious like this, him looking up at you, but then he smiles and it’s not strange at all. It’s stupid how fast he can put you at ease with a look.

“Nice,” he says. “Okay, that should work, yeah, Hakari?”

It’s Kirara who answers, “Yeah, you’re good.”

Takuma stands up, claps his hands together once, and looks at you. “Okay. Kill it, Skip.”

“Yessir.” You salute him with a stick and he makes his way to the other room, closing the door behind him.

“All good?” Yuta asks, glancing at each of you in turn before giving Hakari a thumbs up. It’s strange to be on this side of the glass, to think about your music being played back, to think about it on Spotify, out in the world.

“Next Fix,” Takuma says into the mic, locking eyes with you through the window. “Take one in three, two…”

The song starts out simple. You click your sticks together near the mic, on two and four, while Maki lays down a four-bar loop.

Yuta keeps glancing at Maki while she plays, utterly unaware, and the look on his face is so soft you want to shake Maki by the shoulders until she does something about it.

Nobara’s got her eyes closed with the headset over her ears and her hands around the mic, entirely engrossed in the song.

“It’s comin’ on, comin’ strong, spinnin’ up out of the blue, mmm,” she sings, stretching out the vowels. “And I’m on the ground, bleedin’ out, until my next fix of you, ooh.”

Now you start up with a light rock beat, closed hat and a bit of a dragging buzz on the snare hits. Just as you transition into the beat, Toge comes in with some low chords and Yuta moves down the line in syncopated sixteenths.

Hakari is nodding approvingly and Takuma has a wide grin on his face, and you can’t help smiling back.

“I need it like a lung,” Nobara sings, swaying a bit. “I need it like a light. It’s got me twisted up. I need you here tonight, tonight, tonight, oh, oh, I wanna—”

And this part is your favorite—Nobara sings each two-syllable phrase while you pound on the toms twice, emphasizing it with the kick, and then the backup vocals echo her. Get my (get my) next fix (next fix) of you (of you, of you, of you.)

Kirara pumps her fist in the air twice, in time with the beat, and your bandmates can’t keep the smiles off their faces. You’ve got something here, you really do. This might be your best one yet.

When the song’s over, Nobara whoops and tugs off the headphones, jumping around the cramped studio space with a grin on her face. “That was so cool! Oh my god. Guys, we sound good. We actually sound good.”

“Damn,” Kirara calls. “Okay, girl drummer. Good shit.”

“Not bad for a first run,” Maki admits, adjusting her bass strap over her shoulder. “Do we wanna try recording backups separately at all?”

“Good call.” Takuma nods. “Let’s run that again without the backups and record them over, see what happens.” He’s in full producer mode, flipping switches, colored lights reflecting in his eyes as he and Hakari talk shop away from the mic. He’s good at this, you realize, running sessions like this, making sure things go where they need to go, that everyone’s heard, that things get done. It’s a little bit like watching him skateboard, or seeing him on stage. There’s a confidence to him here, a smooth, easy energy. He’s in his element.

“Alright,” he says after a minute. “Let’s hear that again.”

And you play it again. And again. And again. And you are so in love with this moment, with your band, with a couple rowdy kids on the other side of the window, the rasp in Nobara’s voice and the expression on Yuta’s face and Maki’s obliviousness and Toge’s consistent, head-banging keys, and your drums and your words and the music, and the lyrics feel right to you.

You need this like a lung.

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@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32

a/n: GUYS. loml @shutuppeter is so downbad for soundcloud rapper sukuna that she's writing fanfic of my fanfic😭 credits for frosted flexin' are all hers LMFAO so go check that out (MDNI for that one though).

yutamaki nation rise. also, i kinda love this fic. there may be spinoffs for other characters in the works...

[effloradox]

Cat and Mouse

pairing: tamaki suoh x reader

summary: when a wager is made between the twins and the chairman's son, a desperate tamaki is left scrambling for ideas on how to win. it's only when kyoya mentions the twins' best (and only) friend that tamaki feels he might actually have a chance of coming out on top. the difficult thing is trying to get you alone.

notes: takes place during 1.20 (the door the twins opened!)

word count: 1.6k

You’re not sure what to make of Tamaki Suoh upon your first encounter. You watch him carefully when he first arrives at Ouran Middle School. After all, it’s not everyday a new student starts at Ouran, let alone the son of the chairman. You come to several conclusions very quickly. He’s an airhead, always surrounded by girls, and he seems like a complete idiot, but there’s something so vulnerable about him that you can’t help but be intrigued by him. He’s harmless too, that’s something you picked up immediately. Harmless and so very earnest.

Part of you thinks that the twins are going to eat him alive.

You’re no fool, you know why he’s sought you out. The twins had told you about their wager almost as soon as it had been made and, as the only person the twins speak to who doesn’t cry afterwards, you don’t particularly blame him for seeking you out.

Not that you made it easy for him.

It’s almost fun playing cat and mouse with Suoh, but after almost a week you position yourself somewhere he’s almost guaranteed to find you. Mainly because you’d made sure that his friend, the third Ootori son, had seen you walk into that library.

“If you’re absolutely determined to get to know the two of us we should play the ‘Which One Of Us Is Hikaru?’ game. You in?”

“The rules of the game are pretty easy. You just have to pick which one of us is Hikaru. We’ll give you one month. You can guess as many times as you want in that month but we’ll ask for your reasoning so no random guessing. For the record, only one person has ever been able to get it right.”

“If that’s alright with you, then try your best.”

There is a method to Tamaki’s madness. Kyoya-assisted method, but solid method nonetheless (though maybe it's Kyoya's help that makes it solid). Tamaki knows that it would take more than a month to be able to work out which twin is which, especially since the two of them have their guard up properly now to ensure that he can’t work out who’s who. That only leaves him with slightly more underhanded methods to try and win their bet.

Whilst they said he couldn’t cheat by guessing randomly, they never mentioned that he couldn’t ask who he assumed was the only person to win the game. Getting you alone, now that was the tricky part. If you weren’t with the twins then you seemed to be fairly elusive, always at some club meeting or wherever you went in your free periods. It’s only when Kyoya mentions in passing that he spotted you walking into one of the smaller libraries that Tamaki sets their plan in motion. He’s quick to make his way there, and if he didn’t know better he’d have thought you were waiting for him.

Sat in a fairly secluded corner of the library, you barely look like you’re paying attention to whatever textbook you have in front of you. Your eyes flicker up to observe him, and in that moment you remind him so intensely of Kyoya that it almost staggers him. He does his best to send you his signature charming smile to no avail. Your expression doesn’t change as you continue to observe him. He realises you’re not going to start the conversation and so he takes it upon himself

“May I sit?” He gestures to the seat across from you.

“Of course.” He nods at you as he slides into the seat, resting his elbows on the table.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Tamaki Suoh.” When he says his name is the first time your expression shifts from neutrality to something akin to a smile but with more mirth. It does nothing to dissuade him from his mission. After seeing Kyoya’s evil expressions early in the morning, this is a walk in the park.

“I know who you are.” It’s not what he expects you to say and he blinks at you for a moment.

“You do?”

“You’re quite hard to miss. You’re the new god Ouran is worshipping.” The way you speak makes it clear you’re teasing him, and he immediately understands why the twins like you so much. A small part of his brain jumps to involving you with the plans he and Kyoya are trying to make a reality but he does his best to ground himself in reality. You watch as he starts to shift in his seat, looking like a particularly excitable puppy.

“I’m flattered. It seems my reputation precedes me.”

“Indeed.” He smiles at you for a moment before remembering why he’s here in the first place.

“I think you know why I’m here.” The amused expression on your face shifts back to something more neutral and it’s fascinating to watch as your expression almost turns steely before his eyes.

“I’m familiar, yes.” He’s about to speak his somewhat rehearsed speech but you speak again before he gets a chance to open his mouth. “I’m not going to tell you how to tell them apart.”

“That’s not what I’m here for.” His response comes quickly because it’s the truth. His words seem to take you aback slightly though, like you can’t decide whether you believe him or not.

“Then why are you here?”

“How long have the three of you been friends?” His question takes you by surprise, he can tell from the way your eyes widen slightly at him. You look at him with suspicion but answer his question.

“A few years now. Why?”

“And in that time how many people have tried to use you to get close to the twins?” It’s a risky move making such a bold accusation so early into the conversation, but Tamaki is no stranger to taking risks. He knows he’s hit a nerve when you flinch back like he hit you.

“Too many.” Your voice is soft, laced with hurt no matter how much you tried to hide it, and Tamaki immediately feels awful. He knows what it’s like to be used for your name, but to be used for your connections is foreign even to him.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t imagine how that feels.” His sincerity hurts more than the question, and it leaves you feeling uneasy. You’d expected this to be a quick conversation, ending once you’d refused to divulge a way to tell the twins apart. No one’s ever stayed beyond that if they came to you with that intention and you’re not entirely sure how to proceed.

“You get used to it.” The hurt is gone from your tone, leaving only a bitterness that again reminds him of how Kyoya was when the two of them first met. The two of you would get on quite well, he thinks, and he makes a mental note to try and introduce you soon.

“You shouldn’t have to be used to that.” It’s clear that your patience is starting to run thin when you close the textbook in front of you, staring hard at him.

“Why are you here Tamaki? What do you want from me?”

“I want to understand the three of you. I think the way to win the game has nothing to do with actually being able to tell the difference between them, at least not at first. They want to be told apart, but not just on a superficial level. I need to understand them, and I think to understand them, I need to understand you.”

“And how do you plan to understand me?” You’re not angry at his comments, not from what he can tell. Suspicious, maybe, but not angry.

“I want to be your friend, if you’d let me.” You look surprised at that, and so oddly vulnerable that it makes Tamaki’s heart clench. He’s seen you around school constantly surrounded by people and he wonders how you must view your peers if not as friends. What must it be like to second guess every interaction for an ulterior motive? No wonder you’re so suspicious of him. You look less certain now, that steely look disappearing before his eyes.

“And if I say no?” He shrugs at you.

“I’ll stick around anyway.”

“Is that what happened with Ootori-San?” Tamaki smiles at you, still warm despite your sullen tone.

“Something like that.” He stands up then, pushing the chair back under the table and bowing slightly towards you. “Think about what I said, will you? And I have someone I want to introduce you to, I think the two of you will be surprised how similar you are.” And with that, he turns on his heel, leaving you alone in the library once again.

It’s only when he’s left your sight that you finally smile. Maybe he’s not as much of an airhead as you initially assumed. You were right about one thing though: he’s incredibly earnest. You quickly pack up your books, heading to the classroom that has windows looking out onto the courtyard. It’s almost time.

You watch from the window as the twins confront the latest girl to give one of them a love confession. It goes the same way they always do, with her running off crying, but this time you see Tamaki running towards them. You’re not sure how their conversation will go, but if Tamaki can surprise you, maybe he can surprise the twins too. The future’s bright for all of you, who knows what it will bring?

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