#not really sure what you wanted me to say to this one but this was my response to the whole gender association stuff

[solxamber]

And I Choose...

In which you pick the dorm you want to join

Part 1: Choose Us

Heartslabyul

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d be willingly moving into Heartslabyul, but here you were, standing at the entrance with your bags (and Grim, who was loudly complaining about the lack of a tuna fountain).

Riddle was the first to greet you, looking as composed as ever. “Welcome to Heartslabyul,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was formal, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed his excitement. “I trust you’ll follow the rules properly now that you’re part of this dorm.”

Before you could respond, Trey appeared beside him, looking far more relaxed. “We’re glad to have you here,” he said with a warm smile. “I already saved you a slice of cake—figured you’d need a snack after all the chaos today.”

Bless this man. Truly.

“Say cheese!”

You barely had time to process Cater’s voice before you were blinded by the flash of his phone. “Oh my Sevens, the new dormie vibe is immaculate! This is totally going on Magicam!” He snapped another selfie, this time pulling you into the frame. “And guess what? I’m using my clones to make moving day a breeze! You’re welcome!”

True to his word, Cater’s clones were already grabbing your stuff. You stared in disbelief as three Cater clones carried a single small bag together while laughing like they were in a cheesy sitcom. Efficiency clearly wasn’t their strong suit, but at least they were trying.

And then there was Ace and Deuce. The moment you’d announced your decision to join Heartslabyul, the duo had erupted into what could only be described as the most uncoordinated, chaotic victory dance you’d ever seen.

Deuce was spinning in circles like he was trying to summon a tornado, while Ace alternated between bad breakdancing and finger guns pointed at no one in particular. “We won! We won!” they chanted, completely ignoring the way Riddle’s eye was twitching in disapproval.

“You know,” you said, watching them make absolute fools of themselves, “I think I made the right choice.”

Grim snorted from his perch on one of your bags. “You’re surrounded by idiots, henchhuman.”

“Maybe,” you said with a grin. “But they’re my idiots.”

Savanaclaw

The moment you announced that you’d chosen Savanaclaw, chaos erupted.

Jack’s tail started wagging so hard it was like a propeller trying to take off. You half-expected him to lift into the air. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his usually calm voice brimming with excitement. “We’ll make sure you feel at home here.”

Ruggie wasted no time grabbing you in a headlock and giving you the noogie of a lifetime. “I knew you’d make the smart choice! You, me, and all this bribe cash—donuts for a whole year, easy! You’re officially part of the Savanaclaw hustle now!”

“Ruggie, I swear, if you ruin my hair—”

But the true shocker was Leona. At first, he played it cool, lounging lazily in his chair like your decision was no big deal. “Hmph, took you long enough,” he said, voice dripping with fake indifference. But then, as if he couldn’t help himself, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug grin.

And that’s when he pulled out his phone.

“Leona, what are you doing?” you asked, watching as he sidled up to you with the confidence of a king.

“Taking a picture. Gotta rub this in a little.”

Before you could protest, he snapped a selfie of the two of you. Then, with the smoothness of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, he took another.

One went to Vil. The other went to Malleus.

The captions?

To Vil: "Looks like I win. Stay beautiful, princess."

To Malleus: "Better luck next time, lizard."

You groaned, face burning. “Leona, was that really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket and smirking like the cat who caught the canary. “Welcome to the pack, herbivore.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help smiling. Maybe Savanaclaw wasn’t such a bad choice after all.

Octavinelle

The second you announced you were choosing Octavinelle, chaos descended faster than you could say “Mostro Lounge.”

Floyd let out an earsplitting cheer and, before you could blink, scooped you up and tossed you into the air like a beach ball.

“Shriiiimpy’s ours now!” he cackled, catching you before launching you up again like he was testing the room's ceiling height.

“Floyd, please!” you yelled, your life flashing before your eyes as you flailed. “I don’t wanna meet the Great Seven this soon!”

Eventually, Jade stepped in, placing a hand on Floyd’s shoulder. “Now, now, Floyd. Let’s not accidentally lose our new dormmate to an untimely accident. We wouldn’t want to scare them away before they’ve even unpacked.”

Floyd, grumbling, set you down but kept a firm arm around your shoulders, as if daring you to second-guess your decision.

Jade, meanwhile, adjusted his gloves with a serene smile that somehow felt a little too sharp. “Welcome to Octavinelle,” he said smoothly. “It’s wonderful to have you with us. I assure you, you’ll be treated with the utmost care here.” He looked way too pleased with himself, his gaze lingering like he was already planning your initiation.

Then there was Azul.

Azul looked like he’d just won a billion Madol jackpot. His eyes gleamed, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to break into a little dance right there in the lounge. But then, with Herculean effort, he composed himself, clasping his hands and clearing his throat.

“Well, this is certainly a wise choice,” he said, adjusting his glasses like he hadn’t just been doing mental cartwheels. “I’m honored you’ve decided to join Octavinelle. We’ll make sure all your needs are taken care of.”

But then… he slid a very familiar-looking contract across the counter.

“Of course,” Azul added with a dazzling smile, “just a small formality. You see, this document simply guarantees that you’ll remain a proud Octavinelle student until graduation—oh, and a few other things.”

You stared at the contract hoping it might spontaneously combust. “Azul. I literally just joined. Can I have a minute to breathe before I sign my soul away?”

“No rush, no rush!” Azul said, not looking remotely deterred. “Take your time. But, ah—do keep in mind that signing sooner ensures the best possible benefits…”

As Jade handed you a drink (which you were very suspicious of) and Floyd draped himself over you, already talking about all the “fun” you’d have together, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just made a deal with the devil.

Still, as Azul's smug smile softened into something almost genuine, you decided it wasn’t the worst deal in the world.

Scarabia

The moment you announced your decision, Kalim was on you like a whirlwind.

“YOU CHOSE SCARABIA!!” he yelled, tackling you into a hug so tight you thought you might pop like a balloon. Before you could even gasp for air, he was spinning you around the common room like you were some kind of trophy he’d just won.

“This is AMAZING! We’re gonna have so much fun! Parties! Feasts! Adventures! You’re gonna love it here!” Kalim babbled, his infectious excitement making it hard to even feel dizzy despite the rapid spinning.

“Kalim,” you wheezed, clutching his shoulders, “please put me down before my life flashes before my eyes.”

“Oh, right!” he said, gently setting you down with a sheepish laugh. “I got carried away. I’m just so happy!”

As you tried to steady yourself, a much calmer—but no less relieved—voice spoke from behind Kalim.

“I’m glad you chose Scarabia,” Jamil said, his expression carefully composed, though you could see the faintest hint of relief in his eyes.

You blinked at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jamil replied, crossing his arms and glancing away like he didn’t want to elaborate. But after a beat, he sighed and added, “You’re one of the few people here who keeps things balanced. With you around, maybe I’ll have a chance to stay sane.”

Your heart melted a little at his quiet admission, even as Kalim jumped in again, declaring he’d throw a party that night to celebrate your move.

“Let’s get food! Music! Oh, we should decorate your room! Jamil, can we hang up those golden lanterns I found last week? And—”

“Kalim,” Jamil interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose but unable to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips, “one thing at a time. Let them breathe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the dynamic, feeling a warm sense of belonging already. Scarabia might be a lot, but it felt like home.

Pomefiore

The second you announced your decision, Epel let out a laugh so sinister it would’ve sent chills down a villain’s spine. “HA! TAKE THAT, EVERYONE ELSE!” he shouted, whipping out his phone to snap a selfie with you.

Of course, Rook popped into the frame with perfect timing, striking an overly dramatic pose as Epel sent the picture straight to the first-year chat. “VICTORY IS OURS!” was the only caption needed.

Before you could even blink, Rook had swooped in, bowing theatrically. “Ah, mon cher, your choice has blessed us with the most magnifique triumph! Let us celebrate with a dance!”

You barely had time to protest before he twirled you around the room like you were in some period drama. His excitement was so contagious you almost didn’t notice when he dipped you dramatically—until you felt yourself tipping back, only to be caught by Vil.

“Honestly, Rook,” Vil sighed, steadying you with all the grace in the world. “Do try not to give them whiplash their first day.”

He turned to you, his usual poised demeanor firmly in place, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings. “Welcome to Pomefiore,” he said, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’ve made the right decision.”

You were about to respond when Vil, ever the perfectionist, immediately began fussing over your uniform. “Honestly, you can’t be seen like this. Your tie is uneven, and—Rook, stop standing there and help them adjust their collar properly!”

As Vil worked, meticulously fixing every little detail, you couldn’t help but notice the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He might’ve been playing it cool, but there was no hiding how pleased he was to have you here.

Epel and Rook, meanwhile, had started arguing about who deserved the credit for your choice, while Vil made it very clear that it was his influence that sealed the deal.

And just like that, your chaotic new life in Pomefiore began.

Ignihyde

The moment the words “I’m choosing Ignihyde” left your mouth, Idia froze like someone had yanked his power cord out. His hair flickered erratically, and for a second, you thought he might actually pass out.

“Big Brother? Big Brother!” Ortho shook him frantically, his mechanical arms making a soft whirring sound. “Stay with us! They chose us! You can’t glitch out now!”

Idia finally snapped back to reality, though his face was still pale, his hair sputtering like a dying neon sign. “W-Wait, what?! You…chose here? Are you serious? This isn’t like, a prank, right? Did Ortho bribe you?!”

“No pranks, no bribes. I chose Ignihyde,” you said, trying not to laugh at his genuine bewilderment.

He blinked rapidly, processing your words. “B-But the PowerPoint… I thought it was way too cringe. I mean, I had like, fifty slides about food optimization! Who’d find that interesting?! You were supposed to be like, ‘Ew, no thanks,’ and leave!”

“Actually, I thought it was kind of cute,” you admitted, watching as his hair flared a bright pink.

“C-CUTE?! AAHH, STOP, YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!” He clutched his hoodie like his heart was going to short-circuit.

“Big Brother, calm down!” Ortho interjected, practically beaming. “They chose us! Isn’t this the best thing ever?”

Idia rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. “…So, uh, do you wanna, like…celebrate or something? I-I mean, I know you probably have better things to do, b-but if you wanna…play a game or something, that’d be cool.”

You smiled. “I’d love to.”

Ortho let out an excited cheer and zipped over to hug you tightly, his arms surprisingly warm. “Welcome to Ignihyde! I’m so happy you’re here! This is gonna be the best!”

As Ortho buzzed around you, already listing off all the things you could do together, you caught Idia sneaking a shy glance your way. His hair was still flickering pink, and he looked like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You weren’t sure what life in Ignihyde would bring, but if it meant seeing Idia like this—flustered, happy, and maybe a little hopeful—you knew you’d made the right choice.

Diasomnia

The moment you announced you’d chosen Diasomnia, Sebek practically burst into flames.

“OF COURSE YOU CHOSE DIASOMNIA!” he boomed, puffing up with pride. “It’s the only logical choice! With the Young Master here, there was no other dorm worthy of your presence!”

Silver chuckled softly at Sebek’s theatrics, stepping forward with a kind smile. “Welcome to Diasomnia. I’m glad you’re joining us. Let me know if you need help moving your things—I’ll be happy to assist.”

Before you could respond, Lilia appeared out of thin air, laughing like a mischievous ghost. “Ah, welcome, welcome! We’ve been expecting you…or at least, I have. Let me go fetch Malleus so he can hear the good news himself!” And with that, he vanished in a puff of green smoke, leaving you blinking at the empty spot he’d occupied seconds before.

Malleus arrived moments later, his towering presence filling the room. His emerald eyes softened as they landed on you. “I heard you’ve made your decision. Have you truly chosen Diasomnia as your dorm?”

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, I chose Diasomnia.”

The way his face lit up was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His usual composed demeanor melted into something warmer, brighter. He almost looked…giddy.

“This pleases me greatly,” he said, his voice rumbling with quiet joy. “Come. I’ll give you a proper tour of our dorm.”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer before he gently ushered you forward, beginning the grand tour of Diasomnia. Lilia popped in and out of nowhere as you walked, adding bizarre and entirely unnecessary facts.

“And over there,” Lilia said, gesturing to a decorative suit of armor, “is what I wore when I once tripped and almost spilled soup on Malleus when he was a child. Ah, good times.”

Malleus sighed but didn’t stop him. “This area is the library. Feel free to browse the shelves at your leisure. I can show you my favorite tomes later.”

“And this hallway is where Sebek shouted for the first time when he thought Malleus was missing! Nearly shattered all the windows,” Lilia added with a grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the whole thing feeling so surreal yet oddly comforting. Silver walked quietly beside you, throwing in the occasional useful tidbit, while Sebek followed behind, grumbling something about Lilia not taking the tour seriously.

By the time the tour ended, you felt strangely at home. The eccentricity, the warmth, the oddly familial atmosphere—it all wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

Malleus turned to you, his expression soft but sincere. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll personally see to it.”

Lilia smirked. “Safe and well-fed. I’ll whip up something special to celebrate!”

“Please don’t,” Sebek muttered, but you just laughed, already feeling like you belonged.

Secret ending: Ramshackle

When you finally dragged yourself back to Ramshackle, you were met with Grim, lounging on the couch like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well, henchhuman? Which dorm are we moving to? I hope you picked the one with the best tuna," he yawned, tail flicking lazily.

You slumped down next to him, groaning. "None of them."

Grim's ears perked up. "Huh? What do ya mean, none of them?!"

"I told Crowley to just fix the worst parts of this place. I’d rather stay here. Everyone’s so excited for me to join their dorm—I don’t wanna disappoint them."

Grim blinked at you, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. "Eh, as long as you're still my henchhuman, I don’t care. Besides, this place has character! And by character, I mean it’s haunted, but still."

The next day, Crowley gathered the staff and shared your decision with them. You’d half-expected him to brush off his promise, but to your utter shock, the teachers actually…pitched in.

Vargas showed up first, flexing dramatically. "Alright! Time to show these walls the power of my biceps! I’ll have this place sturdy in no time!" He started hammering away, though you were slightly concerned when he tried to patch a hole in the ceiling using a workout bench.

Trein followed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "This building is a historical relic, and it deserves proper restoration." He brought Lucius along, who mostly supervised by napping in different corners.

Crewel arrived next, snapping his gloves on. "We’re not half-assing this. Ramshackle is getting a full makeover. And you’re going to help, pup. Start scrubbing those floors. Chop, chop!"

Even Sam surprised you by popping up with a toolbox and a grin. "Can’t have my favorite customer living in a death trap, can I? Plus, a little investment in the neighborhood never hurts business!"

The repairs were chaotic but effective. You spent days dodging Vargas’ overly enthusiastic demolition attempts, enduring Trein’s lectures on historical preservation, and running errands for Crewel while he barked orders like you were a rookie in boot camp.

By the end of it, Ramshackle was almost unrecognizable. The roof no longer leaked, the walls were sturdy, and the floors didn’t creak like a ghost was stalking you (though you were pretty sure the ghosts were still there, just quieter).

Grim looked around, nodding in approval. "Not bad, huh? Maybe this place isn’t such a dump anymore."

You smiled, patting his head. "Yeah, it’s still home."

And as you settled back into your slightly less ramshackle life, you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Sure, your dorm might not have been the flashiest or fanciest, but it was yours. And that was more than enough.

Masterlist

[luveline]

shy!reader and spencer who are in the early days of their relationship and are getting more comfortable with initiating physical affection with each other (especially reader lol) and spencer gets her to open up by playing with her hair / hands, tickling her, cuddling, the like <3

The first time Spencer let his head rest against yours, you were sure you’d die right there and then, half-asleep on the subway, then suddenly away as he’d started talking under his breath, his conversation for you and you alone. You'd flushed full body and forced yourself to stay still, until Spencer had confused your shyness for not wanting his weight against you and pulled away. 

This time you’re ready. This time, he’s working his arm over the top of your shoulders. Not a timid first move on the first date, he’d suffered through that already. Spencer lets his arm slip between your back and the couch as he tugs you toward him, resting his cheek against your temple, two points of skin turning hot as a burner. 

“Okay?” he asks quietly. 

You let yourself relax into it. “I’m fine.” 

“Did you want me to run that bath for you?” 

It’s imperative he doesn’t move. “No, I can do it. I’ll do it later, if that’s okay.” 

It’s Spencer’s bath, but he let you take one the last time you stayed the night, so you’ll work it out. You knew he wasn’t gonna peep on you, knew you were totally safe in his bathroom, but your heart hammered fast as a hummingbird’s whenever the floors creaked —just the idea of being near him when you were unclothed set you aflame. Your skin warms with the memory, a nervousness in your chest and hands that grows uncomfortably warm. 

You don’t move, though. You’re sending him all the wrong messages when you reject him out of timidity, you’re more than aware of it, but the longer he sits there gently holding you, the more the temptation to squirm builds. 

Spencer makes a soft, soft sound as his hand trails up your back, curling around your arm, and meandering a path to your elbow. 

“I got…” —Spencer begins, without any inclination to rush— “…more of that bath soak you liked, the camomile… and honey…”

You love the smell. Sometimes you swear you can smell it in his hair when he presses near you. 

“And a loufa, ‘cos you didn’t have one last time,” he adds. 

“Thank you.” 

“…You’re welcome.” He kisses the side of your head. Then, in a betrayal of his character, he laughs breathlessly, saying, “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying. The loufa– It’s purple. I put it on the towel rack, and I got you a new face towel, too, mine’s too rough for you.” 

“Did you get yourself a new one too?” 

“Yeah.” He taps your cheek, the hand you’d forgotten about drawing a short line to your jaw. “You’re pretty.” 

You drop your chin. 

“You are,” he says. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Spencer’s hand slides down your neck, a caress that turns to a kind hold. “Can I…” He snorts softly. “You’re solid,” he says, squeezing your neck with enough pressure to wind you, which isn’t much. “You don’t have to get all tense.” 

“I’m trying really hard not to get tense,” you admit. 

“I know. I’m trying to help, but I’m just making it worse.” 

Spencer isn’t making it worse. Or, he wasn’t. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, is the thing.” 

“I was. Then you tensed up and I didn’t think I should.” His easy smile goes funny. “Could I have?” 

“Of course you could’ve,” you mumble, pressing your face into his shoulder before he can decimate the last of your self respect. He laughs —giggles, really, in a burst of sound— and tugs you in. “Not funny.”

He can hear the lie. “No, it’s not funny,” he agrees anyways, laying back and then moving forward, swaying you enough to turn the giggle into a full blown laugh. 

He murmurs something. You mumble back. His fingertips slip over the dip in your back and he’s saying something nice, if a little shy. It’s been nice getting closer to him, seeing the real Spencer, someone who’s hesitant but gentle beyond words. There’s no reason for him to be touching you like this, to talk sweet nothings behind your ear as he lugs you onto his chest, and maybe there’s no reason for you to melt. Butter in the sun, drifting bonelessly into his lap. 

“You smell like tea,” you say quietly. “I love it.” 

“You love it?” he asks, something oddly awed about him as he shifts your head back to look you in the eyes. 

“Mm. It’s nice. And your eyes are so brown… they’re my favourite thing about you.” 

Spencer teases the stripe of skin exposed by your rising t-shirt until you’re shivering again. “Thank you,” he says, letting one close in a wink as he taps your nose with his. “Am I allowed to say what I like about you, or–” You shake your head so violently he immediately stops. “Fine. But only because I want to sit like this for the rest of the night with you.” 

“I still need a shower.” 

“Later,” he says, his lips resting on your chin. “Way, way later, please.” 

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Baby Bang

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: Reader is pregnant (just that, nothing deep)

Genre: established relationship, flufffff

Summary: You've been distant lately, and Chan can't understand why. Because this is very unusual for the two of you as you two are on each other all the time. And Chan panics as you guys are getting married in a few months, and this sudden change is unraveling him.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chan paced the living room, a deep frown etched into his forehead. You hadn’t touched him in days. Weeks, actually. That alone was already a catastrophe, considering the fact that you two were basically like bunnies.

But now? Nothing. You were dodging his touches like he was contagious. He reached for your hand? Oh, look, you suddenly needed both hands to text someone. He tried for a kiss? Whoops, you conveniently yawned. Bedtime? You were already asleep. 

And that diamond ring glittering on your ring finger? It made him wonder if you were regretting saying yes to him already.

He’d spent way too many nights staring at the ceiling, feeling like the universe was punishing him for something he didn't even know he did.

Chan sighed and opened the group chat. This was bad. He needed to vent.

Chan: She’s avoiding me.

A rapid barrage of notifications followed, and Chan barely had time to process one before another arrived. 

Minho: Y/N? The one who’s practically glued to your lap 24/7?

Hyunjin: LMAO. Not possible. I won't believe it.

Seungmin: You obviously did something.

Chan: NO, I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!

Chan: She’s been acting weird for WEEKS. 2 weeks to be exact. No kisses. No hugs. No… anything.

Jisung: No sex? BRO. Are you okay?

Felix: What if she’s planning something? Like a surprise? Maybe a wedding thing?

---

Chan paused. That was… not unreasonable. But no. You’d never kept secrets from him before. Like you've given him enough surprises before so he knew this was different.

---

Minho: OR. She’s finally come to her senses about you seducing her into saying yes? 

Chan: Minho. I will come to your house and end you.

Jeongin: But seriously, hyung. Did you say something? Do something? Forget an important date? You’re kind of a workaholic.

---

That hit a little too close to home. Chan frowned, scrolling back through his mental timeline of your relationship.

---

Chan: I didn’t forget anything. I swear. We were fine until a couple weeks ago, and now she’s avoiding me like the plague.

Changbin: Well. There’s only one logical explanation.

Changbin: She’s been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone.

Jisung: YES. I second this. The real Y/N would NEVER do this. 

Felix: Omg guys! 

Chan: GUYS.

Hyunjin: Okay. What if she’s mad because you’re not initiating? She’s waiting for you to grovel.

Seungmin: That makes no sense. If she’s mad, why not just say so?

Hyunjin: IDK, some people like drama.

Jeongin: That’s your toxic trait, Hyung.

Hyunjin: IS NOT!

---

Chan groaned, dropping his phone onto the couch. He missed you. Like, really missed you. Sure, he wanted to rip your clothes off 90% of the time, but he also missed the simple things - your cuddles, your soft laugh, the way you’d always need him by your side when you're stressed. 

The cold shoulders and polite smiles were killing him.

---

Minho: Just confront her, idiot. Corner her in the kitchen and ask her what’s wrong.

Chan: You think I haven’t tried that?! Every time I ask, she changes the subject.

Jisung: Okay, hear me out. Seduction.

Chan: What?

Jisung: Set the mood. Candles. Sexy music. Flex those ridiculous arms. She won’t stand a chance.

Felix: Worth a try. 

---

That night, Chan put the "seduction plan" into action. He dimmed the lights, skipped the candles, and put on a romantic playlist. He even went full drama, lounging on the couch with his shirt conveniently unbuttoned.

When you walked in, your eyebrows shot up as you asked, “What's up?”

Chan said nothing, just held held his hand out.  You froze, guilt flashing across your face, and Chan knew he had you. You placed your hand on his and let him pull you close.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and it’s driving me crazy. Did I do something wrong?” His voice cracked, and that set you off.

Your eyes filled with tears, and in an instant you were in his lap, clinging to him like your life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, Channie! I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then why -”

“Shhh,” Chan fell silent as you pressed a finger to his lips. “Just know that I love you, Channie.”

Chan was suspicious. Because, well, you’d shut him up in the best way possible, last night - all he remembered was his shirt coming off and yeah.

You’d seduced him. Thoroughly. And while his brain had short-circuited at that time, he was now absolutely certain that you’d dodged his questions on purpose.

At least he can't complain about you not touching him anymore, right?

---

Chan: It didn't work.

Minho: WHAT didn't?

Chan: She kinda caught me off guard. And avoided my questions.

Jisung: I thought we agreed on YOU seducing her and you got seduced??

Felix: Soooo… you still don’t know what’s going on?

Chan: NO. She’s hiding something, I know it.

Hyunjin: Maybe you’re overthinking. Or, maybe she’s secretly a spy.

Changbin: She’s NOT a spy, Hyunjin. That’s ridiculous.

Hyunjin: And alien clones aren’t?

Minho: Why are we even helping you? You let her seduce you and then just… forgot your goal.

---

Chan groaned, flopping onto his back. It wasn’t his fault! He was weak when it came to you. All it took was a look, or a whisper of his name and his brain turned to mush.

Still, Minho had a point.

---

Chan: Okay, fine. What do I do now?

Felix: She’s probably just stressed? Weddings are a big deal. She might just need time to sort her thoughts.

That gave Chan pause. Weddings were stressful. Maybe that was it?

Hyunjin: My bet’s still on spy.

---

Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom, staring at the little plastic stick in your hand for the hundredth time now. You’d known for two weeks, but the reality hadn’t gotten any less terrifying.

You were pregnant. Pregnant. With Chan’s baby.

The thought sent your heart racing. You loved him more than anything, but… you’d never talked about kids. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he panics when you bring it up? 

There were only a few months until the wedding. You didn’t want to dump this on him now and risk throwing him into a spiral.

---

That night, Chan decided to take Minho’s advice (for once). No more distractions. He was getting answers tonight.

When you walked into the living room and his eyes locked onto yours - you froze. He looked so handsome, and a little…worn out? You felt so guilty for doing this. 

“Come sit,” he said, patting the couch beside him.

You hesitated, but complied, heart pounding.

“Baby, we need to talk,” Chan said, his voice soft but firm.

You swallowed hard as you murmured, “About what?”

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks. And you obviously don't trust me enough to talk it out. I’m worried. What's going on? Is it the wedding?” He was giving you that puppy eyed look, and your heart shattered.

“No, Channie, it's not like that...”

“Then what is it? Please, just tell me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to spill everything - but then you panicked. The words caught in your throat, and instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Here he was - caught off guard (again) but quickly melting into the kiss. You climbed into his lap, your hands tangling in his hair, and within seconds, all thoughts of questioning were gone.

---

Chan: SHE DID IT AGAIN.

Minho: You’re hopeless.

Seungmin: At this rate, she could rob a bank and get away with it.

Felix: Honestly, I’m impressed.

---

Chan sighed, glaring at the group chat before throwing his phone across the bed. Whatever you were hiding, it was big. And he was determined to find out, one way or another.

Little did he know, in the bathroom, you were rehearsing how to tell him the truth: that in just a few months, he wasn’t just going to be your husband.

He was going to be a dad.

Chan was officially losing it. His imagination had gone to some very dark places (thanks to Changbin’s clone theory and Hyunjin’s spy nonsense), but now he just felt defeated. What was so big and terrifying, that you felt like you couldn’t share it with him?

Chan: I give up. She’s unbreakable.

Jisung: Hey don't lose hope.

Minho: Pathetic.

Jeongin: Just sit her down and don’t let her leave until she talks.

Chan: I’VE TRIED THAT.

Chan was ready to lock himself and you in a room till you cracked, but unfortunately he was already cracking under the stress. And then a lightbulb went off in his head. There was just one person in the world who might be able to get through to you.

Felix.

---

Felix was, to put it lightly, concerned when Chan cornered him in his kitchen.

“Lix, you have to help me,” Chan said, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Help you how?” Felix asked cautiously.

“Can you please try to talk to her?” Chan literally begs. “She loves you, Lix. Maybe she’ll tell you if you ask?”

Felix hesitated, torn between loyalty to Chan, who was literally his brother and his friendship with you. But ultimately, his desire to help won anyway.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll talk to her.”

---

Later that afternoon, you opened the door to find Felix standing on your porch, holding a box of cookies and his sunniest smile. 

“Lixie?” you asked, surprised. “So good to see you!”

“Just wanted to check on you, love,” he said, coming forward to hug you.

You stepped aside to let him in, and the two of you settled on the couch.

“I baked these for you,” he said, watching your reaction closely as you opened the box and munched on a cookie immediately. “You’ve been looking a little stressed lately.”

You stopped mid-chew, guilt gnawing at you.

“I’m fine, Lix. Just… wedding stuff, you know?” you said, carefully avoiding his eyes.

“Is it really just the wedding?” Felix tilted his head, unconvinced.

You froze, your hands tightening around the box.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I won’t judge.” Felix said, reaching out and placing a gentle hand over yours.

Your eyes welled up with tears, and as you put the box aside gently. Felix scooted closer as he saw the tears fall, and before you knew it, the truth came spilling out.

“I’m pregnant, Felix,” you whispered. “And I don’t know how to tell Chan. We’ve never talked about kids, and I don’t even know if he wants them. And now the wedding’s so close, and I’m scared I’ll ruin everything. I already got my wedding dress and I don't think I'll fit into it anymore because by that time-”

Felix’s eyes went wide, and for a moment, he looked like he might burst into tears himself. But then he let out a strangled laugh.

“You’re… you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, sniffled and managed a soft, “Yeah.”

Felix threw his arms around you, nearly knocking you over. 

“Oh my God, Y/N! I’m so happy for you! And for Chan! You’re gonna have the cutest baby in the world!” he gushed, his eyes sparkling with happy tears. 

You couldn’t help but laugh through your own tears. 

“You don't think this is a disaster?” you asked softly, wiping your tears away. 

“Disaster?” Felix pulled back, shaking his head. “Of course not. This is amazing! But you have to tell Chan. He’s going insane trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I just… I’m scared.”

Felix gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Chan loves you more than anything. Trust me, he’s gonna be over the moon. And I'll always be here for you. Seriously, sweetheart, this is the best news ever.”

---

Hyunjin: Well? Did she tell you?

Jisung: SPILL, FELIX.

Chan: Felix? Please. I’m dying here.

Felix hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He couldn’t betray your trust, but he also couldn’t leave Chan hanging.

Felix: She’s okay. She’s just… working through something.

Minho: And you’re being suspiciously vague.

Seungmin: Should've known that sending her best friend to investigate wasn't your strongest idea… obviously he's gonna take her side! 

Felix: I promised I wouldn’t say anything. But it’s nothing bad, I swear.

Chan: Seriously?? Nothing bad? Then why is she avoiding me?

Felix: Just… be patient with her, okay? She’ll tell you when she’s ready. I promise it's all ok. Trust me. 

Chan frowned at the message, his heart twisting.

You had spent the whole night rehearsing what to say to Chan, your stomach churning with nerves. Morning came far too quickly, and as you watched him shuffle into the kitchen with his hair messy and his sleepy face, you nearly chickened out.

But Felix’s words echoed in your head. He’s gonna be over the moon.

“Channie,” you said softly, placing your mug of tea aside and taking a step towards him. 

He looked up from the coffee maker, his sleepy eyes brightening instantly. You were trying to talk to him, and somehow that was enough. Anything was better than you avoiding him. 

“Morning, baby.”

You smiled nervously, gesturing to the table. “Can we talk?”

His brow furrowed, worry flashing across his face as he nodded and sat down opposite you.

“Is everything okay?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you said, “You know how I’ve been… weird lately?”

Chan nodded, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Well,” you continued, “there’s a reason for that. And I’ve been scared to tell you because it’s big. Like, really big.”

“Baby, whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise, I’ll handle it.” Chan said, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his.

Your eyes filled with tears as you finally said it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chan froze. Completely. His mouth hung open, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as his brain processed your words.

“You’re… pregnant?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, tears spilling over.

“Yeah. I found out a couple of weeks ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it, or if it was too much with the wedding coming up -”

Chan cut you off by pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. His body shook as he let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and you realized he was crying.

“Channie, are you okay?” you asked nervously, your own voice shaking as you stroked his hair.

“Okay?” he choked out, pulling back to look at you with tear-streaked cheeks and the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “Baby, I’m better than okay. I’m… I’m gonna be a dad?”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the pure joy on his face.

Chan laughed, his tears flowing freely now.

“Holy crap. I don’t know what to say?! We’re having a baby. A baby!”

Before you could say anything else, Chan was  peppering your face with kisses, squeezing you in the tightest hug ever.

“I love you so much. Baby, you’re…I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this on your own.” he said, cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, clinging to him as he pulled you onto his lap. “And…I've never been more scared about anything my entire life? I mean, I adore you, and I know I want this with you, our baby already means the world to me…but not knowing if you would want that too? It's been killing me, we've never even joked about this before, Channie… “

“You could’ve told me sooner, baby,” he said softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I thought we were clear about this, with you, I'm ready for anything! But I get it. And I love you even more for worrying about me. But baby, we’re in this together. Always.”

---

Chan: GUYS. I HAVE NEWS. HUGE NEWS 🤩

Jisung: Finally!! 

Hyunjin: I told you she's a spy!! No one ever listens to me!! 

Minho: He’s too happy for that, you idiot.

Chan: WE’RE HAVING A BABY.

Jeongin: Excuse me, WHAT?

Changbin: STOP. Really?! 

Seungmin: Wow, plot twist

Felix: Oh thank godddddd😭😭😭😭

Felix: I was dying here

Chan: SHE TOLD ME THIS MORNING. I’M GONNA BE A DAD. WE’RE GONNA BE PARENTS. OMG.

---

It felt like everytime he said it, it felt a little more real.

---

Jisung: Congratulations, bro. Wow. 

Hyunjin: I AM CRYING. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE REPRODUCING.

Chan: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Chan: MY BABYGIRL AND I ARE HAVING A BABY😭💖

Minho: Jokes aside, this is such great news!! Congrats. Now go take care of your pregnant fiancée instead of spamming us.

Chan: I think I'm gonna faint

Changbin: Congrats, bro. But also… HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE SHE WAS GOING THROUGH SOMETHING?

Chan: I NOTICED! I just didn't think she was, you know

Jisung: Avoiding you because she was growing your spawn, apparently.

Hyunjin: “Spawn” makes it sound like a little gremlin. Oh my Gawd 🤣

Felix: STOP. My baby’s gonna be so adorable I’ll CRY 😭

Minho: Okay, Felix, you’re suspiciously calm about this. Did you already know?

Felix: 👀

Hyunjin: YOU KNEW.

Chris: WHAT?? FELIX, YOU KNEW BEFORE ME?!

Felix: SHE TOLD ME FIRST, OKAY? SHE WAS NERVOUS, AND I PROMISED I WOULDN’T SAY ANYTHING.

Jisung: Wow. Betrayal.

Chan: SO YOU JUST LET ME SUFFER FOR WEEKS??

Felix: Yes. And? I'd do it again for her.

Changbin: LMAO savage.

Jeongin: Shame on you for trusting him when everyone knows he works for her

Chan: Thanks for being on her side, Lix

Felix: Anytime 💖

Hyunjin: Omg, imagine Baby Bang. Tiny curls, tiny dimples 😍

Chan: STOP I’M ALREADY CRYING AGAIN 😭

Jeongin: I've never been this excited for a baby really. You'd let us babysit won't you? 

Changbin: Oh yeah. Group uncle duty.

Hyunjin: We're gonna be dancing before we can even walk Baby Bang 🤝

Felix: For sure!

Chan: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING EXCITED FOR US!

Jisung: Save your tears for the wedding, Daddy Bang.

Jeongin: When do we throw a baby shower? Felix?

Felix: Already planning it.

Hyunjin: This baby’s gonna be so loved.

Chan: THANK YOU, GUYS. I LOVE YOU ALL 😭

---

Chan added Y/N to the group chat.

Chan: SURPRISE, BABY! WELCOME TO THE CHAOS.

Jisung: AHHH THE QUEEN IS HERE!

Hyunjin: ALL HAIL THE BABY-MAKER 👑

Minho: Congrats on creating life and also tolerating Chan for this long.

Felix: YAYYYYYY YOU’RE HERE! 😭 We’ve been dying to have you here!!!

Jeongin: Thank you for gifting us Baby Bang. We promise to only slightly corrupt them.

Changbin: We’re all crying. I’m crying. Hyung is crying. Everyone’s crying.

Y/N:😂

Y/N: Oh my God, you guys.

Minho: This is us being tame.

Hyunjin: Soooo, what does it feel like, hm? Asking for research purposes, of course

Chan: Oh yeah, totally not gonna run off and impregnate someone 🙄

Hyunjin: What's it to you Christopher? You can do it, but I can't?! 

Chan: Oh please

Minho: I told her to get a collar for this damn puppy and look who's here yapping

Y/N: Leave him alone guys!

Hyunjin: I respect you, Y/N. I respect you. So I'm gonna shut up (Mr Know, let's do this face to face huh)

Minho: Gladly.

Felix: Honestly, Y/N, we’re just honored to be part of this. 

Y/N: Thanks guys, this means a lot to us. 

Changbin: And we’re going to spoil them rotten.

Jeongin: Rotten is an understatement.

Y/N: 🤭🤭🤭

Minho: You won't even know what hit you for the next 18 years. Or 30.

Chan: GUYS. Stop scaring her. Baby, they’re joking.

Felix: We’re not.

Hyunjin: Nope.

Jisung: Absolutely not.

Y/N: I'm all in for that hehe

Chan: I love you guys

Jisung: Chan’s in his feels again.

Felix: We have a wedding and baby shower to plan! 

Hyunjin: OMG. A pregnant bride. You’re gonna be so GLOWY.

Y/N: Thank you for being this excited for us. I love you guys 😭💖

Felix: We love you too!! 🥺💖

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8

[aesthetically-dying101]

Smooch

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inspiring.

Selfless.

Outrageously overworked, but hot.

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

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

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

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

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

Kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stopped mid-pace, blinking at him.

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

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

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

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

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

Yuji made a small sound somewhere behind you.

“Yay?”

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

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

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

“Don’t mock me! I’m having a crisis!”

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

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

“I like you too.”

You froze. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raised a brow. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

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

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

Barely.

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

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

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

Must be nice to sleep at all.

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

“Oi, wake up, Toji.”

Still nothing. Unbelievable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a peck. Not a lazy, tired smooch.

A kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toji huffs, dragging himself out of bed.

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, caveman.”

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

Home. Or something like it.

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

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

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

BAM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hsssssssssss!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

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

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

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

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

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

He was still so beautiful.

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

That face.

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

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

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

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

Tears blurred your vision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, there was nothing.

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

Perhaps you were even favored.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you looked up.

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

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

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

As if that'd make any situation better.

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

The world stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

*-*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your chest.

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

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

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

Silence.

And then Sukuna laughed.

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

“I didn’t mean to offend you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What just happened?

Choso hadn’t expected to see you here.

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

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

“Choso!”

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t make it better.”

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

“You shouldn’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shiu Kong was done.

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

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

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

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

You.

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

Then, you kissed him.

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

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

God, he melted.

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone has to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I know I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

For now, there was just you.

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

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

You were pacing.

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

Then, it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiromi blinked. Once. Twice.

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

You’d kissed him.

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Oh,” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I—oh.”

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

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

This time, you kissed him back.

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

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

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

And you didn’t.

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

Masterlist

:)

[rissouu]

I KNOW IM YOUR FAVORITE, gojo satoru ཐི♡ཋྀ

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ in which: he may be your ex, but that doesn’t mean you can just move on.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ wc: 2.9k words.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ warnings: lots of angst, dark content (not really), sexual content, pussy!drunk gojo, stalker!gojo, heavy possessiveness, mentions of violence, pet names, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, baby trapping (but y/n wants it), gojo sucks ur feet for literally 1 second, yandere gojo (ehh), cunnilingus, overstimulation, toxic!gojo (barely), ex!gojo, and etc.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ notes: okay look this shit is very freaky, and it’s loosely based on the song hold me down by daniel caesar! and gojo is a stalker y’all, this is your only warning babes.. please leave now if you’re uncomfy! he is kinda crazy in this but in a lovingly way.. y’know? not proofread either so not too much on me!

when you walked into your apartment you couldn’t help the exaggerated giggles you let out. it was embarrassing actually, acting like a school girl in junior high all over again. the reason for your happiness was pretty simple— you just had your first date.

your first date since you broke up with your ex, gojo.

that was about a year ago now.. a year since you and the love of your life parted ways. up until recently you’ve never had the guts to put yourself out there again, always scared that one day you’ll just end up hurt again.

but your whole view on dating changed when you met this guy at a grocery store. he offered to pay for your entire cart, and it was well over $300 worth. you found the gesture sweet, and from there you two exchanged numbers.

he was no gojo of course, but you had to move on at some point. it’s already been a year, if gojo didn’t reach out yet, then maybe that meant he’d moved on too.

well.. so you thought.

you were so caught up in the excitement from how well your date went, you barely even realized you were still in pitch black.

“fuck i got so distracted i forgot to turn the lights on.” you chuckled to yourself, flipping the light switch on and hanging your purse on the door.

you didn’t know why but you had a feeling you weren’t alone, like someone was watching you— or better yet breathing right down your neck.

the house was eerily quiet, so quiet you could hear the drop of a pen. but something felt off about your apartment, and you were never one to ignore your instincts.

just as you were about to retreat and run out the door, a familiar voice had you stopping in your tracks.

no. fucking. way.

“where were you?” the achingly familiar man smiled, trying his best to hide the dangerous aura oozing from his body. he knew exactly where you were, and always have. you didn’t know it yet— but he’d been watching you for a while now. ever since you dumped him which was more than a year ago now.

technically it was stalking.. but he didn’t like to call it that. in his mind, he was more of a guardian angel— just making sure you’re okay and still breathing.

how else would he check on you since you blocked him on everything else?

the white haired man was sitting on your couch with his head tilted— clearly waiting for an answer although he already knew where you were to begin with. it was pretty easy to keep tabs on you.

you stared at him, a small frown forming across your face. you were feeling weak in the knees. the first thing you wanted to do was jump on him and tell him how much you missed him.

but you knew you couldn’t do that, not anymore. the two of you just didn’t go together, or at least that’s how you felt a year ago. you couldn’t get back with him, you wouldn’t. no matter how much it hurt.. it was better than dealing with his unstability.

“what are you doing in my house, gojo?” you folded your arms— staring back at him with the same expression he was giving you. that’s what he loved about you, you weren’t easy.

with the blink of an eye, he was up from the couch and coming closer towards you. the man easily towered over you so to say he was intimidating was an understatement.

instead of answering your question he just stared at you with a blank expression— and you did the same exact thing. this was common with you two, just staring at each other in silence until one of you dared to speak up.

about five minutes later, gojo finally cracked. you silently praised yourself for being able to last longer than him.

with a low chuckle, he shook his head— slightly licking over his lips. “i think im the one asking the questions here, hm? so answer me.”

you scoffed at his arrogance, seems like some things just never change. “i was on a date if you must know, now get the hell out of my house.”

as soon as you got your words out he couldn’t help but to laugh. honestly, gojo didn’t even know what was so funny, maybe it was the way you said it.. you really thought you held some type of authority?

“and now you’re laughing at me? what’s so funny?”

that only made him laugh more, truth be told gojo wasn’t even trying to laugh, but you trying to be somewhat “mean” was taking him out because you were nothing like that.

you were one of the kindest people he’d ever met, so this little act you had on was amusing to him.

“shit, im sorry!” he clutched his stomach, letting one last chuckle out before continuing. “it’s just.. you really think im falling for this little act of yours?”

your face was quick to scrunch up— finding every bit of his words disrespectful. but it was gojo, so what could you really expect? his bluntness would probably be the death of him.

“excuse me? need i remind you, we are not together anymore gojo!” your voice came out a lot shakier than you’d hoped for it to. what the hell was going on with you?

“well clearly i know that, or else i’d go and kill that fucker you were out with tonight.”

throwing your hands in the air you muttered a strand of curse words, it’s impossible to get through to someone as hard-headed as him. “please just see yourself out.”

before he could respond, you walked off toward your room. you didn’t have the energy to deal with him or his childish antics, he’d already managed to ruin your entire mood. all this did was remind you why you keep your heart locked away— because of arrogant assholes like him.

“there’s no need to be rude, y’know? i just wanna talk to my favorite girl.” gojo followed you to your room— just like you knew he would. god, he’s so annoying.

it looked the exact same as the last time he was here except for the empty wall where the pictures of him used to hang. he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his chest heavy, and heart pang in sorrow. could you really have been done with him for good this time?

“whatever, just don’t get on my bed.. i don’t know where you’ve been.”

‘stalking you’ he chuckled to himself before completely disregarding your request, and plopping down on your bed anyways.

you decided not to scold him for doing exactly what you said not to do. that’s just who gojo was, no one could boss a man like him around.

you weren’t even being serious either. in hindsight, you really did enjoy having him around. as much as you hated to admit it.. it reminded you of the old times, when it was just you and him against the whole world.

“i missed you, y’know? you just up and left without a word.. and next thing i know im blocked.” even though he tried to hide it you could hear the pain in his voice. losing you was like losing a piece of him too, he couldn’t stand it. he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel.

the only reason the man was able to keep it together was because he was watching you, ensuring you weren’t completely out of his life.

it sounded crazy. hell— it was crazy, but when it came to you he’d do anything.

“i know.. & im sorry for the way i handled that. i just felt like we needed to move on, try new things…”

“i don’t want to try new things!” he scowled, quickly sitting up from the bed to face you. “i want you.. just you. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

the air was thick, and the room felt like it was caving in. your body was practically on fire listening to him say the words you’d been craving to hear.

“and about that date of yours..” he cooed, running his hands up your thighs and slowly spreading them. “we won’t be worrying about him anymore, will we?”

that little date was never a threat to gojo to begin with. both you and him knew that, but he took manners into his own hands just to mark his territory.

gojo made sure to corner the poor guy as soon as your date was over, and needless to say.. a few threats were all it took. you should be happy he didn’t do worse, it ran across his mind to kill the poor guy at first.

“i..if we do this then no more bullshit okay?” your soft hands gripped his chin as you forced his beautiful blue eyes to meet yours. “none of that childish stuff this time. we’re both grown so we need to act like it, we’ve had a whole year to fix ourselves.”

every time the two of you got back together it turned into complete chaos. gojo wasn’t the best man out there, and you weren’t the best woman. both of you had your own flaws regardless, but you two needed each other.

that was well established the first 10 times you guys broke up, and unsurprisingly you always ended up back in each other’s skin.

gojo’s gaze on you was heavy, almost as if he was trying to study your every breath and blink. all of the dumb, childish expressions on his face from before were far gone.

“yes princess, whatever you want.” he softly spoke as he sunk his head into the skin of your stomach, littering you with soft kisses. “i’ll do whatever you want..”

gojo spoke so gently— his voice softer than ever as he pushed you on your back, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

you stared at him intently, waiting to see what he would do next. one thing about gojo was he always had something up his sleeve, and part of you knew where this was headed.

when his rough hands gripped the waistband of your flimsy skirt, you didn’t complain. actually you found yourself wanting more, longing for more.

“y’gonna let me get a taste baby? missed her s’much,” soft lips trailed up your thigh— leaving small bite imprints on the flesh. this was his way of staking his claim on you, marking you as his and only his.

you couldn’t stop the shaky sigh that fell from your lips, or the silent nod you gave to your ex-boyfriend for him to continue.

the grin that spread across his face was taunting almost, and intimidating. when that skirt of yours was out of the way, gojo moved on to the black-lace panties. his personal favorite.

“so what, you wearin’ these for other people now?” the fucking nerve of you, he couldn’t believe this. to stoop that low.. well that just won’t do. it seems like he had a few things to correct now that he was back. “fuckin’ answer me. be a good girl for me, yeah?”

your eyes locked with his and all you saw was silent fury, you could tell he was pissed. “not wearing them for anybody toru. just didn’t have any clean ones,”

a lazy grin covered his face at the remembrance of his old nickname, the way it fell from your lips so softly always managed to send heat straight to his dick.

he finally got his girl back.

faint kisses to your cunt had your legs shaking in anticipation— and the soft gasp that left your lips did nothing but egg gojo on as his tongue met your aching clit.

“pussy’s still fuckin’ pretty as ever,” with a low voice his eyes were closed shut, in hopes to savor every last bit of you. when his hands came up to your thighs he couldn’t resist the urge to spread them even further.

the man wanted to explore every inch of you since it’s been so long. so so long since he’s spent some personal time with that pretty pussy of yours.

“w..wait- fuck toru!” you whined when his lips found their way to your pulsing clit, folding his tongue up and down the gooey slit.

his assault to your pussy didn’t stop there. next his thumb was sliding down your sticky folds, not stopping until it was past your tight walls.

your mouth fell open at the intrusion. his thumb wasn’t long but it was thick, causing a bigger stretch than you’d expected.

“so good. taste’s s’good princess,” gojo mindlessly babbled, every word sending vibrations straight to your pussy.

gojo felt like he was out of his body. out of his mind, and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. just what the fuck were you doing to him?

finally fed up with the throbbing ache in his pants he latched onto your clit for a third time, giving it one last kiss before pulling away.

the man couldn’t wait any longer— he needed to be inside you, and he needed it now. before you knew it he was sliding off his sweats and everything underneath it, leaving him completely exposed.

your pussy throbbed just from the sight of him.. you didn’t know how much longer you could wait either.

“don’t worry mama, im ready for ya’.” a low chuckle left his throat when he saw you were just as desperate as him. “you ready for me?”

his blue eyes met your low ones when he slapped his tip against your folds. next he was sliding inside of your pulsing hole with ease, forcing your mouth open.

“o..oh my gosh!“ you winced at the familiar stretch, your walls involuntarily clenched around his dick— trying to push him out.

“n..no- fuck. none of that, y’hear me?” gojo whimpered at the feel of being squeezed, he couldn’t even move you were squeezing him so tight.

the man hovered over you, lips grazing your ear as he coaxed you. “let me in baby, you can do it. i know you can,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around your neck and resting it there.

his words of encouragement had you opening up quicker than he expected, and with every second he was inching deeper into your pussy. gojo felt like he was in a dream— or better yet, on cloud 9. after all that time you still feel the exact same, heavenly.

his strokes were gentle at first, but they sped up when he realized how long he was away from you. a whole year.. never again.

“n..never ever gonna let you keep this shit from me again.” gojo groaned with an edge in his voice that you couldn’t recognize.

your shaky hands wasted no time sliding under his shirt, feeling on the happy trail that covered his v-line. “not gonna take it away toru, ‘s all yours!”

gojo grinned at your words as he pressed onto your lower stomach. with his free hand he gripped onto the back of your thighs and brung your freshly done feet up to his mouth.

his lips wrapped around your toe— eyes locking with yours as he sucked on it. his strokes only got deeper, and you whimpered at all the different sensations at once.

“‘m not gonna pull out,” he admitted as he switched from sucking to leaving small kisses on your foot. “gonna cum so deep in this pretty pussy. never gonna leave me again.”

you were so out of it. drool everywhere, hair messy, tear stained cheeks.. anything gojo said went in one ear and out the other. the man could do whatever, you didn’t care.

“mm yes, don’t pull out. want it s’bad, fill me up please!” small whines filled your throat when you felt a familiar pressure in your abdomen, your pussy wrapping around him even tighter than before. how was this even possible?

gojo’s pace got faster, strokes sloppier.. he was slowly but surely losing all the sense of control he once had before. “f..fuckk ‘m gonna cum toru, so close!”

you gasped when his thumb flicked your clit, looking up at the blue eyes that never left your frame. your legs shook in overstimulation and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold it in.

“let it out mama, you’re okay. gimme all of it- shit.” he hissed as his dick twitched at how tight you were squeezing. “fuck fuck fuck, you’re gonna be such a pretty mama. s..such a pretty wifey, all f’me.”

you threw your head back as chills covered your entire body. the both of you were completely out of touch with reality, not caring about anything but the feeling of one another.

“‘m cumming toru! mhmm ‘m cumming,” you exclaimed, bringing your hand to his stomach. it wasn’t long before the built-up pit in your stomach finally snapped, coating his dick in a ring of your juices.

gojo was close behind you, a whimpering mess as his stomach tightened. before he knew it he was filling you up— spilling his load inside of you, not a drop to be wasted.

“f..fuck yeah. take it mama, it’s all yours. all for you.. gotta give you everything.” he chanted praises as he gave you one last stroke, pushing his cum even deeper into you where it belonged.

your voice was shaky when he called you, so shaky that at first you thought you wouldn’t be able to respond. but even so, you did.

“you’re never leaving me again, understand?” the edge in his voice was back, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach do flips.

“yes toru, i understand.”

if there’s anything you learned from this at all.. it’s that you could never leave a man like gojo satoru.

©rissouu 2025 (this one’s for dulce y’all so thank her, it took me forever *sigh*)

[sanni276]

*Tim and Kon sitting on one of the couches in Titan's Tower*

*Kon suddenly turning to Tim*: Tim my best bro, you need to help me.

Tim: Sure. What's going on?

Kon: There is this guy I really really like but I just don't know how to tell him because everytime I flirt with him he thinks I am just joking and whenever I ask him to go out, just the two of us he answers me with: "Oh! This and this friend will love that! We should totally all go together.".

Tim internally freaking out: He likes guys? He likes a specific guy? Wait, does this mean I could have a chance with him? No, that's stupid he already said he likes someone else. Does this mean that I'm not even an option when Kon likes guys? No why am I only thinking about what this means for me? I am a horrible friend and-

Tim externally: Well what exactly do you like about him?

Kon *with a soft smile*: Everything. He's smart, somehow handsome and pretty at the same time, he is strong and good at fighting and sometimes he does things that just infuriate me and we argue but he is probably the best thing that ever happend to me and if he asked me to become supervillains and take over the world with him I would so without a seond thought.

Tim *literally crying on the inside because he's pretty sure he could be all of these things if he tried*: Then tell him that. After that say something like "I really like you and wanted to ask if you would like to go on a date with me sometime" If he still doesn't get it after all that then he is probably just not interested in you but too nice to outright say it.

Kon suddenly seriously looking Tim in the eyes: Tim, you are smart, somehow the most handsome and prettiest man i have laid my eyes upon at the same time, you are strong and and so good at everything you do and Rao you infuriate me sometimes but I wouldn't change anything about you for the world because you were there every single time I needed someone and I'm afraid ou are my favourite person and that I would sacrifice everything for you. You are my biggest weakness. My Kryptonite. I really really like you, and wanted to ask if you would like to go on a date with me sometime.

Tim: Yeah. Just like that. I'm sure whoever this mystery guy is will instantly fold. Sorry Kon, I think you're gonna have to excuse me now because Bruce wants me back in Gotham.

*Tim runs away to cry in his room and then mope about his crush for the next 2-17 buisness days*

Kon left behind head in his hands: Dude...Just tell me if you don't like me.

Kon is completly convinced that Tim knows how he feels since he is literally the best detective in the world (Yes. Even better than Batman) and there is absolutely no way he didn't get Kon's confession. Tim does infact not know.

Much to the infuriation and pain of everyone that somehow knows them it takes them another three weeks to realize their feelings are mutual and in fat not unrequited.

Except Cassandra: She had guessed the date excactly right and she won a lot of money. (there was a betting pool)

[pacofprunes]

THANOS & NAMGYU NONCON HEADCANONS

WARNINGS — noncon fucking everything, drugging, i mean it’s fucked up obviously, thanos & namgyu seperate headcanons

THANOS

never in a million years did he think he’d end up in a scenario like this. he’s had tiny thoughts of doing such things when he’s gotten rejected, but now that he’s actually doing it, oh he fucking loves it.

loves to manhandle you. holding your wrists tightly in one hand, forcing your legs around his neck, having the absolute tightest grip on your hair, he absolutely lives for it.

whispers sweet nothings into your ear like this is all normal. cooing at the tears spilling from your eyes.

“no need to cry, i’ll make ya’ feel realllll good.”

marks you up everywhere. hickeys, bites, bites that draw blood, marks and scratches on your hips from his grip on you when trying to keep you from getting away…

definitely slips a pill into your mouth when he kisses you, not pulling away until he knows you’ve swallowed it.

he would love to be able to make you ride him. holding your wrists behind your back while you bounce on him. if you refuse to do so however, he’ll take his other hand and grip your hair, pulling it up as high as possible so you have to make yourself move up to stop the pain and then he just pulls your hair right back down so you smack against his balls. after he’s done that a couple times, he’s sure you’ll decide to just bounce on him without his help.

he takes pictures and videos as a souvenir. presses a deep kiss against you and snaps a picture. he snaps a picture of you on top of him while he has the tightest grip on your wrists. films a slow video showcasing all of the marks littering your body before debating weather or not to post it to his highlights or his private story.

loves slapping your pussy and cupping it in his hands. it makes you flinch away from his dick and right back down on it, doing the work for him. makes his dick twitch so much.

occasionally he likes to let go and let you try to push him away, knowing all of your efforts will be futile. it makes him laugh. but don’t push him too much. if you hit him too hard, he might loose that playful fucked up persona and just be straight fucked up, quickly becoming insanely mean. if you slap him a little too hard on the face, oh, you better believe he’s slapping you ten times harder. and as soon as he’s done and the tears slip from your eyes, he cups the red spot on your cheek, giving you a pouty lip.

“baby, shouldn’t have hit me, don’t cry at something you did! you shouldn’t live with regrets.”

this won’t be a one time thing. in fact, he wants to be with you in a relationship. it’ll probably end after like three months until he misses the times like this and forces you back in him, but this is not the last time you’ll see him. he might even rent out a hotel for a week and force you to stay there with him within those days. he’ll let you leave after the weeks up and his moneys all out, but he’s still going to stay glued to your side. makes you introduce him to your parents like he’s this perfect boyfriend when really he’s made your life a living hell and you want nothing more than to get away from him. if you tell anybody what he’s doing, the next time that he takes a quick photo with his hands wrapped around your throat, he’ll be sure to keep them there instead of letting go. you won’t even get to tell your poor family goodbye.

NAMGYU

he doesn’t particularly have fantasies of doing shit like this, but he can’t handle rejection. he’s thinking of you the rest of the night, thinking about how much of a bitch you were for saying no to him and pushing him away, his friends teasing him and pissing him off even more causes him to go through and fuck you out of your mind weather you want him to or not.

he definitely drugs you. slipping a pill that he honestly barely knows what it is into your drink. the moment he notices you have a bit of a wobble in your step he pulls you away from everyone around, leaving you oh so vulnerable to him.

he has a hand on your mouth the entire time (or his dick in it.) he doesn’t feel like listening to you bitch.

loves seeing your tears and the fear in your eyes. he hopes he fucks you up for the rest of your life. hoping that if a guy you hate asks you out, you’ll think twice about rejecting them and saying no, remembering this moment.

he doesn’t feel like having to hold you down. he wants to press his hand into your hips while the other remains on your lips, so he just gives you a simple threat.

“there’s a knife in my back pocket, i’m sure you don’t want me to use it, right? right, so i’d suggest you don’t hit me or push me away and we’re all good.”

sure he knows with the drugs in your system that your hits will do no harm to him, but he doesn’t care. don’t piss him off and maybe you’ll live and give him another chance to do this to you. also, he probably doesn’t even have a knife in his back pocket, but you didn’t need to know that.

tauntingly licks every tear that rolls down your cheek and onto his hand as he slams his hips against you, sending a taunting smirk your way.

also takes pictures and videos as a little souvenir. shoves the camera all in your face, making sure the flash is on while he adds commentary in the back.

“look at this dirty slut cryin’ all over my dick,”

“pulled me away from my friends and begged me to fuck her brains out, ain’t that right?”

of course you couldn’t respond, but so what? he simply starts laughing when you try to shake your head no. but he easily puts an end to that as he presses his palm even harder against your face, practically putting all his weight on it, threatening to break a tooth to keep you from moving your head an inch. it makes you want to reach out and stop him by grabbing his arms, but what if he really had a knife in his pocket? he told you not to touch him…

he’s a dick usually because his friends are around and he wants to impress them, but now he’s a dick to prove something to himself, to prove something to you. if you had just said yes, he’s sure he would’ve been nicer, and he lets you know that, throwing all the blame onto you.

“this is your fault you know? i asked you nicely, but you just had to be a giant bitch about it. those tears ain’t for me, they’re for your stupid decisions.”

definitely chokes you as he starts to cum in you, the end of your assault nearing. you poor thing, still so scared he’s gonna kill you that the moment you reach your hands up to stop him, you let them droop back down to your sides. the drugs already clouded your vision, the choking just darkened it even more.

when he’s done he zips his pants up before pulling yours up and dragging you to stand. he pulls you back inside the club to where his friends were, pressing a kiss against your neck in front of them.

“just had the time of our lives, didn’t we baby?”

you just nod your head as well as you can, it getting heavier and heavier by the minute. bragging to his friends about how they clearly shouldn’t have doubted him. he throws you on a chair somewhere and goes about his night. if some other guy wanted to have a turn with you, he gave them all the tools they needed. wasn’t his problem any longer!

he expects that next time he sees you at a party (or somehow in public) and he asks to fuck, you won’t say no. don’t make it any harder than it needs to be.

[marauders1971-1978]

This is the post I channel for James' characterisation for years 1-3

The dormitory grew brighter around him at a snail’s pace, the weak Autumn light struggling through the flat, white cloud cover. Remus was exhausted and frustrated, but still, infuriatingly awake. He gave up trying to get any rest and clambered over to the bottom of his bed to pull out a book from his trunk to read until it was a reasonable time to be up. 

His eyelids were just drooping over his copy of The Wishing Chair, Again that he’d brought from home to lend to Lily when something heavy and unexpected dropped onto his legs. 

“Morning!” James whispered over Remus’ grunt of pain. He was beaming, and looked like he’d slept outside in a hurricane. 

“Yeah, morning.” Remus pulled his legs from under James, lest he break them, and put his book to one side. “You’re up early.”

“I suppose. Hey, sorry to spring this on you, but I forgot to ask yesterday with all the excitement. Are you a werewolf?”

Remus lunged forward and clapped his hand over James’ mouth, looking over to his left in a panic. Peter was still snoring. 

“Jesus Christ, James, shut up.” 

James pried Remus’ hand away from his mouth and grimaced apologetically. 

“Sorry mate,” James apologised, keeping his voice hushed. “Anyway, you are, aren’t you? I double-checked the lunar charts over summer-”

“James, are you mental?” Remus groaned. He couldn’t take much more anxiety in one night. “What do you mean, you were ‘checking lunar charts’? It’s like, five in the morning - why are you asking me this right now?”

James looked horrified. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I was so sure I was right - I suppose that was a bit presumptuous. Please, ignore what I said, I’m so sorry-”

“No, you’re right, it’s just that-”

“Wait, I’m right ?”

Remus wanted to obliterate himself on the spot. What an idiot. 

Well, he supposed at least he could stop worrying about it now. 

“Yeah, you’re right.”

He stole a tentative glance at James, expecting disgust, or horror, or fear. Instead, he looked… smug?

“ Knew it!” he hissed. “I’m such a great detective. Sirius isn’t going to believe that I figured it out before him-”

Remus couldn’t believe his ears. Was it simply that James hadn’t thought of the reality of what he’d discovered? Perhaps it was still all a game of Cluedo to him. Perhaps, once he’d had a few minutes for the horror of what he’d said to sink in, he’d go straight to Professor McGonagall, or Professor Dumbledore, and ask that Remus be housed elsewhere, or expelled, for their own safety. 

And he’d be right to. 

Remus flinched as a hand waved before his eyes, far too close to his face. 

“Hey, Lupin. You okay there?”

Remus blinked at him, waving his hand away. He didn’t want to touch him. 

“Am I okay?”

James huffed. “You keep just repeating me.” James seemed to stop, pull the breaks on his own train of thought, and really look at Remus for the first time since he’d sat on the bed. Remus could feel his eyes searching him. “Sorry. I think I’ve made a mistake.” 

There it was.

“I’ve really freaked you out, haven’t I?”

Freaked him out?

“I bet it’s been really hard for you, you tried to keep it a secret. And here I am blabbing away about it. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I can keep a secret, I promise. Especially for a friend.”

Remus refused to cry for the third time that day, so he leaned forward and hugged James roughly, before he could think twice about it. James squeezed him back.

BONUS - Peter

“I guess this is about the werewolf thing?”

Remus snapped his head up, bashing his forehead on James’ chin as he did. Peter stood beside the bed, sleepy eyed. Remus rubbed his head and looked bewildered at Peter. 

“How do you know?” He asked, incredulous. 

“You were sick at the full moon and your scars don’t heal,” Peter shrugged. “I supposed you were trying to keep it a secret, so I didn’t say anything. Seems like that’s over and done with now though.” He smiled up at him and Remus felt his chest ache like someone had reached inside him and squeezed his heart. 

How did he deserve this?

James unlatched himself from Remus and huffed at Peter. “Wait, when did you figure this out? I thought it’d gotten it first?”

“No way, I figured it out end of last year - I’m sure you only put it together in the holidays-”

“That’s not true, I was just double checking! I knew last year-”

“You did not, you’re a liar-”

Remus: Oh no. You don’t want to befriend me. I’m a handful.

James: [excitedly] I have two hands!!!

[luveline]

hi lovely, was wondering if you would be able to write any hotch x bombshell!reader ? maybe before they got together or any scenario/prompt you feel like!

take care of yourself and have a great day!!💝💝

The problem with Aaron Hotchner is that he’s too lovely for his own good. He might not think of himself that way. Not many, if any, of the office would agree. Morgan thinks Hotch is a hard-ass and Elle likes him in her way, but she rolls her eyes when he gets snippy, and Spencer… well, you think you and Spencer are probably on the same page. 

Hotch is kind, and a good man, and if he looks handsome when he’s frustrated that’s just how nature intended it to be. 

“Stop it.” 

“No.” 

“Stop.” Hotch levels you with a look over his computer. You’re surprised he knows how to use it, considering the semi-permanent callus on the pointer finger of his right hand. You must’ve watched him pen a thousand case files, consults and forms in a love letter to the old ways. 

He types slowly, but you’ve decided to keep your comment about it to yourself. “You’re looking at me like you know something I don’t,” he says. 

“Maybe I do.” 

“I’m sure you do. Stop bragging.” 

You lean on your elbow on the desk. He’s got a file open in front of him he’s transcribing for the sake of security. It details a case from a few months ago, and each line of the investigation is printed in Hotch’s neat script, lilting to the left over time. He frowns as he turns a page and realises it’s practically margin to margin with detail.

You want to offer to do it for him, but he’ll say no. You want to slide your foot up the leg of his slacks to see if he’ll blush as he did last Friday when you’d done the same thing, Gideon in the doorway none the wiser and somehow disapproving regardless. 

And Hotch, he’d laughed like a kid when the door closed, not turned on in the slightest but endeared by the guts it took you to try. Then he’d sort of enticed you around the desk somehow —you don’t remember the before of it, only slinking to his side with your heels tumbled on their sides under the desk still, his palms wide and open as you settled on a wooden corner. 

“I’m pretty good on the computer.” 

“I know,” Hotch says. “I authorised your computing and communications technology seminar myself.” 

“I was good at it before the mandatory company training garbage,” you say without heat, wondering how you might entice him over your side of the desk. Flirting aloud doesn’t work. Neither does footsie, and besides, what fun is that for you? But he’d looked at you in this strange way, none of his commanding sternness about him. A smile lingered on his lips; he can’t have known he was smiling at all, or it wouldn’t have shown. He’d left something honest there for you to see. 

Maybe it’s in your best interest to let down your own walls for a minute, too. 

“I could help,” you say. “Perhaps not from the same file, but I can get the laptop and start on the Maryland stuff. If you like.”

He looks at you steadily over the computer. His eyes seem lighter, the suspicious set to his mouth oddly close to smiling. “What do you want?” he teased quietly. 

“Nothing. Just figured it would make your life easier.”

“When have you ever made my life easier?” 

Your smile slips before you can stop it. Immediately, Hotch isn’t smiling either. The, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, honey,” almost doesn’t reach you, over that sharp second of hurt. 

“It’s fine.” You plaster on a smile again to save him the trouble. “I know you didn’t.” 

“No, really. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hotch,” you say, thumbing over his name slowly, “I know. We were teasing.” 

“Flirting,” he corrects. 

Your smile is real, then. “Flirting?” you ask. “That’s rather forward. Flirting might imply we like one another enough to, oh, I don’t know, help each other with our overflowing workloads?” 

He looks at you, all dark and him, steady, strong, all the stupid things that draw you in. You’re not just in it for his arms, however tightly corded they might seem when he’s pulling off his tie after a long day. “You do more than enough for me just sitting there,” he says, holding your gaze with a careful casualness that has your heart tripping in your chest. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Do what? Just sit here looking pretty?” 

His shoe touches your ankle. “Exactly,” he says quietly. “Just sit there exactly as you are. I promise I don’t need anything else from you.” 

Warmed from the inside out, you sit back in your chair. Grinning like a fool. “Why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. Any chance at sounding casual is lost when your voice comes out gossamer thin. 

He looks you over appraisingly. “See?” he says, turning back to his case file. “Thank you, honey. You’re a big help.” 

You swing one leg over the other to get comfortable, crossing your arms over your stomach smugly. “I know.” 

[enwoso]

FINDING HER WAY BACK HOME | alessia russo

i’m sure someone requested something with lotte and foxy from college era but i can no longer find the request or maybe i dreamt it idk but if not here it it anyways!

grumpy masterlist

alessia leaned back against the dorm room couch, her hand resting on her small bump as she watch lotte and emily animatedly discuss their future plans.

"i'm telling you," lotte said, pausing for a moment as both girls waiting for her to continue, "arsenal is where i'm heading after here. best club in england!"

emily rolled her eyes, "your so biased, arsenal's good sure but if you're really aiming for the best, you'd look across the pond. nwsl has the edge in-."

"emilyy, not again" alessia interrupted, laughing as she dragged out emily's name.

emily smirked, "fine but i'm staying in the u.s. anyway at least for now. but mark my words we'll all end up in london one day, we'll sign with a club together. it'll be epic"

"deal" alessia said softly, looking between her two best friends. "i don't care what club we're at as long as we're together again."

lotte grinned, "you'll have to hold out the talks with manchester united until you're ready to come back though."

"yeah, the deal with them is still early days" alessia said a wistful smile crossing her face. she loved the idea of returning to england and playing there but for now, football felt like a distant dream.

she had other priorities now - a tiny, growing priority who was going to depend on her for everything.

emily leaned forward, her serious side kicking in, "oh, speaking of priorities, less have you taken your prenatal vitamins today?"

a small groan came from the blonde, this had been the same conversation she would have with the american everyday. she wouldn't forget. "yes, emily"

"and the iron supplements? you've been looking pale the last couple of days."

"wow thanks em, but yeah i have"

"and you're drinking enough water?"

"yes, emily!" alessia said, exasperated but unable to hide her smile, her heart warming at the fact of how caring her friends were over her now.

emily raised an eyebrow, "don't 'yes emily' me you were standing for like two hours at that student center thing yesterday. you've got to take it easy less!"

lotte snorted, "your like her personal midwife"

"somebody has to be!" emily shot back, tossing a pillow at lotte as she giggled on, "she's carrying out honorary niece or nephew. i take my duties very seriously!"

—

after a long morning, and a few teary goodbyes mainly saying goodbye to lotte and emily who walked alessia to the further point they could in the airport before sharing a group hug, promising one another that they'd see each other soon.

alessia was finally settling into her seat on the plane, rummaging through her carry-on, pulling out the book emily had packed for her.

as she opened the front cover she noticed a bright pink sticky note with emily's neat handwriting sprawled on it.

‘make sure you drink water every hour, you're already bad enough at this on the ground, don't make me come 30,000 feet and lecture you! safe flight lessi.’ emily

a small laugh bubbled up despite her exhaustion, emily had never let up since the the moment alessia told them and alessia could never not be grateful for the two.

a couple hours later, the flight going somewhat smoothly apart from the fact alessia was finding it rather difficult to get comfy, as she kept having to get up every half hour to use the bathroom. luckily she was on the isle seat..

as the flight attendants handed out complimentary snacks, alessia reached into her own bag for her own stash she'd bought in the airport. as she unwrapped the granola bar another little sticky note fluttered out.

the one had a messier scrawl of letters on it, accompanied with a doodle of a football. alessia immediately knowing it was from lotte.

‘granola bar = good. chocolate = bad. unless you want me and em to tell your little one that their mum broke all the rule, only kidding. take care of yourself, okay? we love you.’ lotte<3.

shaking her head with a smile, alessia carefully folded the note and slipped it back into her bag. her journey back home continued as she found more and more notes that the two girls had hidden in her bag in unexpected places.

reminder to stretch her legs.

a reminder to take her vitamins (no guesses needed to guess who that one was off..)

a reminder to have a nap.

but finally she found a small handwritten card tucked into the side pocket of her bag, where she kept her headphones. the note being from both of them:

‘alessia, we're so proud of you. we can't even begin to imagine how hard this is for you but you're the strongest person we know. and we know that your little one is so lucky to have you as their mum, and we're are so lucky we get to have you as our best friend. don't forget we're only a call away — no matter what the time it is. this isn't a goodbye, just a see you soon. we love you so much! lotte and emily <3'

tears filled her eyes as she read their loving words. holding the note tightly as she pressed it to her chest, overwhelmed by the love and support they had shown her. looking up at the time left on her flight: ten minutes and she'd ben home.

—

when alessia finally stepped through the arrivals gate in london. her body ached for her own bed from the long flight and her mind was foggy with fatigue. yet her heart leapt when she saw her family waiting for her.

her brothers were the first to reach her, gio stood tall with a big grin on his face as he pulled her carry on from her hand. "what's this? didn't they charge you extra for the snacks you probably smuggled on board?"

"or is it baby stuff already?" luca added with a smirk, reaching to grab the trolley with her suitcases on, "bibs and tiny shoes?"

"hilarious" alessia said rolling her eyes playfully. normally she'd fire back with a quick comment of her own but she was simply too tired to engage as she let out a breathy laugh and muttered, "just make yourself useful and carry my bags would you?"

her lack of a witty retort made both her brothers pause, gio nudging luca with his elbow. "she'd either growing up or she's too jet lagged to care?"

"one hundred percent the second one," luca quipped back quickly.

mario was standing slightly behind them, giving her a warm smile as he silently pulled her into a hug. alessia closing her eyes as she leaned into his steady presence.

when he released her from the hug, he took one look at her tired face and gestured towards the doors of the airport, “let’s get you home, you can sleep in the car”

but before they could move any further, carol appearing rushing forward to envelop alessia into her arms.”

“oh my baby!” she cried, happy tears already spilling down her cheeks. her hands immediately going to alessia’s six month bump

“look at you, you’re glowing. are you eating enough? have you been taking those vitamins i told you about? and oh- names! have you thought about any yet? what about james or izzy? or-”

“mum,” alessia said with a tired laugh her voice soft but affectionate, “i’m too tired to think of names right now”

her mum wasn’t deterred, as she looped her arm through alessia’s and began walking in the direction of the car, her chatter filling the quiet night.

“that’s okay, we can talk about it tomorrow. did you know your gran suggested peter? i told her absolutely not and then your aunt said olivia, but that’s..” alessia let her mum’s voice wash over her, a small smile tugged at her lips.

she was home.

the drive back to kent alessia’s head was leant against the cool glass of the car window the air cool and a lot less sticky than the hot air from the states as alessia’s eyes half closed.

her brothers keeping up a low and playful banter next to her as mario hummed softly to the radio as he drove. carol keeping a watchful eye on alessia from the corner of her eye the entire way.

when they finally pulled into the familiar driveway of her childhood home, alessia felt a wave of emotion rise in her chest. her family bustled around her, her brothers unloading her bags as her dad quietly set up a spot for her to sit in the living room. her mum of course already started to plan where they were going to go for breakfast.

alessia sat back, her hand resting on her bump as she let the moment sink in. she was surrounded by love, laughter and warmth. this is what her baby was being welcomed into, a family surrounded by people who already cared so deeply.

for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt at peace. she was home and she couldn’t wait to welcome her baby into the world.

—

it was well past midnight when alessia finally sank into the soft cushions of her old bed, her body aching with exhaustion but her mind too restless to sleep.

her family has tucked her in for the night with promises of a big family breakfast in the morning, but the quiet hum of the house only made her miss lotte and emily even more.

reaching for her phone, alessia stared at the time. it was early morning in north carolina - ridiculously early. she debated whether to call, knowing she could leave a message and they’d get back to her later.

but before she could second guess herself, her fingers had already pressed the button.

to her surprise emily picked up after only two rings, her voice groggy but alert. “less? everything okay?”

“why are you awake?” alessia asked, startled at the americans accent and by the fact she actually answer the phone.

“it’s five thirty am,” emily muttered, “i have morning conditioning in an hour. why are you still awake?” alessia chuckled, that’s one thing she wasn’t going to miss in a hurry - the early morning sessions.

“i just got home and i- um couldn’t sleep. i wasn’t expecting you to answer. i was just going to leave a message.” alessia explained as emily had placed her phone down on the counter to fill up her water bottle.

“like i’d miss your call,” emily said her tone softening as the american glanced across her dorm room, “wait, here comes lotte.”

a moment later, lotte was on the screen a tired smile on her face but still filled with excitement to her see the blonde. “less! your home already? how was the flight? did baby behave? did you find the notes we left?”

“slow down lotte..” emily interrupted with a teasing smile, “let her answer one question at a time”

alessia laughed, warmth spreading through her chest, “yes i’m home. the flight was fine - long but fine. baby is all good, kicking my ribs but that’s usual these days. and yes i found all the notes. thank you for those by the way.” her voice softened, “i already miss you guys.”

“don’t make me cry at five am,” emily groaned, “it’s too early for emotions.”

“literally? who gave you the right?” lotte added, but her teasing tone couldn’t mask the affection in her voice.

alessia leaned back against her pillows, “it feels weird without you both. and em you’ll be happy to know my mum has already taken over your job”

"job?”

“mhm the constant reminders about vitamins and water” alessia replied a hint of amusement in her tone, “first you, now her. it like i have my own personal tag team of nagging.”

“poor you” emily dai, her voice mock dramatic, “you live such a hard life. imagine having people who actually care about you. must be terrible.”

alessia snorted as she rolled her eyes playfully, although the two on the other side of the facetime call could barely see by the blondes dimly lit room.

“don’t mind her less,” lotte said her voice light. “you know she gets snappy when she’s tired.”

“i’m not snappy when i’m tired.” emily protested as lotte and alessia both looked to each other and burst out laughing.

“you are..” lotte countered as she stopped her laughing, “but it’s okay we love you anyway.”

the banter made alessia smile so wide her cheeks were beginning to her. these two girls were her rocks, her family away from home. even though right now they were miles apart she felt their love and support as strongly as if they were sitting beside her — if not more.

“thanks for answering” alessia said softly, “i didn’t think you would.”

“of course we did.” emily said her voice losing its previous teasing edge, “we told you that you can call us anytime, less. even if it’s just to say hi, we’re here for you.”

“always,” lotte added, “now you need to sleep. you’ve got the whole growing another human thing to keep up with.”

alessia laughed as she could feel the baby kicking slightly, “okay okay, goodnight— or good morning.. i guess”

“love you less!” they said in unison making the blonde grin.

“love you guys too!”

as alessia hung up the room felt a little less quiet and her heart felt a little less heavy. even across an ocean her best friends were always there for her. with a content sigh she fitted off to sleep one hand resting on her bump knowing she’d never be alone in this journey.

[fragilefawn333]

boarding school ⟡

f!arcane characters x f!reader - girl’s boarding school AU- hall-monitor caitlyn, straight-A student mel, athletic vi, rebel jinx, teacher cassandra x fem!reader (fluff and kissing)

cw; kissing w/o explicit permission, weed, teacher/student. also i wrote this instead of sleeping in the middle of the night so! (3k words)

Caitlyn - Caught  

Smoke spills from plush-lips, curling into cold air. The stall-room’s door is scribbled and graffitied; etched with phone numbers and corny messages. You shuffle on the edge of the lid, allowing bitter tobacco to hit your throat again - exhaling the scent into the girl’s bathroom. You’re halfway through a particularly thrilling daydream when a knock at the door startles you into the world. Stubbing the cigarette on the toilet, you call out to the intruder;

“I’m pissing, leave me alone.”

An extremely annoying, posh and very familiar accent rings off the tiles;

“No you’re not, I can see the smoke. No smoking in the girl’s toilets. Come out.”

You stand up, flushing the toilet for dramatics, and unlock the stall door. Deep-blue eyes, framed by furrowed, pissed off brows, stare back at you.

“Hello, Kitty-Cait,”

She frowns at the nickname, and you shoot a sickly-sweet glance at her, sing-song voice. Before shoving past her and turning on the tap (again, dramatics - got to sell it.) She glares at you through the mirror, towering behind you as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“That’s two misdemeanours, you know; one for smoking and two for missing class.” She clicks her tongue, face shifting into a half-smile, “And I’m pretty sure that makes your third offence of the week. Which adds up to an hours detention.”

“I told you. I was using the bathroom. Is that a crime?” You shut off the tap, turning to face her.

“Ok, where’s your toilet pass?” She persists. God, she’s so annoying. With her dark, shiny hair always in that tight-ass ponytail and her pink, glossed lips. For a minute, you catch yourself wondering how soft they are — but you shake that thought out of your head. She’s annoying, that’s it.

You rolls your eyes, and press your own lips together. “Fine. Write me up.”

“I could,” Something shifts in her tone, and she smirks — flashing gap-toothed smile, “Or, you could do me a favour. And I might - forget - about it.”

“Favour?” You scoff, “Like what?”

“Kiss me.” She says, and your eyes widen. What?!

You stutter, trying to find the right words to say — yet they all get caught in your throat. Finally, you swallow your surprise, “Fine.” And she smiles.

She saunters towards you, until you’re caught between her and the wall between the sinks. Glancing down between her impossible long, dark and perfect lashes - lips parting slightly.

Caitlyn closes the gap, albeit hesitant, and presses her lips against yours. The bitterness aftertaste of tobacco and the sweetness of her strawberry lipgloss intertwines as her tongue finds your mouth. Long fingers find your nape, pulling you closer as warmth engulfs you — contrasting the cold tiles of the walls sticking to the back of your knees.

Eventually, Caitlyn pulls back, lips swollen and panting. She smiles another toothy-dopey smile into your flushed pink cheeks, before pushing back. Straightening her uniform and tightening the ribbon at the back of her head, Caitlyn turns on her heel. You stare after her, wanting to say something — anything. But the kiss has left you half-dazed and your thoughts too much to collect and make sense of.

Caitlyn glances back at you, still pushed against the wall and dizzy.

“Don’t let me catch you again. I might not be as — lenient,” She giggles, licking your taste off her lips and skipping out of the bathroom. Leaving you unable to do anything then gape after her because, goddamn, her lips are soft.

Mel - Copy-cat

Ticking echoes through the room. The old clock nailed to the peeling wallpaper a reminder of the thirty minutes you’ve spent doing fuck-all. Shit, you really wished you had studied longer. Last night feels so long away as you mentally curse your past, sleepy self for making excuses rather than picking up the textbook. You told yourself that this was nothing but a mock-exam — not a real test, but now that you’re sitting in the exam room, it feels real.

You find yourself still making excuses, telling yourself you can’t focus because of the unrelenting clock or the constant coughing in the far end of the room. Even though it’s not true, you can’t put pen to paper because you have no clue what to write. Meaning you are going to fail, again.

A quick glance around the room and you feel even worse, as everyone else seems to be completely fine — especially your desk-neighbour. Typical, straight-A student Mel Medarda is scribbling away, already questions deep into her paper. From your position next to her, you can make out some words. In pure desperation, you find yourself leaning ever-so closer.

You check on the teacher, finding him engrossed in his book, you out of sight at the back of the classroom. Ok, you can do this — just a few answers.

Your eyes flicker to the sheet of paper again, catching a few words and writing them down. Back to the teacher, who is still distracted. And back again to her paper, lingering too long on her long, delicate fingers, tipped with manicured nails. Her wrist is adorned with golden bracelets, travelling down to her knuckles — where equally beautiful, and expensive, rings are. Her arms are bare, allowing your eyes to greedily run over her exposed skin. To where the push of her shoulder blades forces a hollow in the material of her shirt. To her hazel eyes, flecked in gold — staring right at you. Fuck.

She stares at you, eyes wandering from yours to her paper to your paper. Pieces of hair frame her face as she turns it back to you, gold clasps keeping it twisted together glowing against her dark-skin. Honeyed voice spills from plump lips as she whispers;

“What are you doing?”

You just shrug, stupidly. Too entranced by her presence, her eyes on yours, to come up with a reasonable excuse. Shuffling back a bit to your seat, making it look like you’re not obviously copying off her work. Mel gapes, opening her mouth again and huffing at your lack of response.

“Are you copying me?”

Now that prompts a response. You almost jump out of your skin at her words. Failing class is one thing, but pissing off one of the richest pupils in the school will have your head on a spike. You filter through your mind; searching for something to absolve you of your crime. You falter, and your body acts on its own, lunging forwards until your lips meet hers — this will keep her quiet, surely.

She tastes like mint, her lips tender as she lets out a muffled squeak. For some reason, she doesn’t fight nor pull away. Instead, her lips turn upward and when you pull away, she’s smiling? You exhale shakily;

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

Mel laughs, in a way that is so angelic you forget to breathe for a second, before slamming her hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence herself. She murmurs, voice low;

“I was going to ask if you needed some help.” She flashes white teeth, nibbling on the end of her pen, “I tutor, and you’re cute, so I wouldn’t mind.”

You turn crimson, nodding fervently — still embarrassed you kissed her in the middle of class. She chuckles again, quietly this time and tells you to meet her after class. The taste of mint still lingers at your lips.

Vi - Locker-room

The faint smell of sweat and Victoria Secret perfume resides in the locker-room. You sit on the edge of the bench pushed to a corner, nursing a large scrape on your knee. Diving to catch the ball was a stupid idea, especially considering you did it to impress a girl who barely looked your way.

You take the wet paper-towel and try to clean up remaining blood, stuck to skin and wound. The pain comes in sharp waves radiating from the scraped knee, and you are so absorbed in fighting the urge to cry you barely notice the door swinging open. Strong scent of spicy aftershave spills into the room, burning at already tear-struck eyes. The plastic bench dips slightly at the weight shuffling next to you. You peel your gaze away from stained towel and to your right, only to be met with grey-eyes. A hiccup escapes your lips, and you tense as a calloused finger wipes away wet cheeks.

“Vi?”

Vi grins, a hum of confirmation. She grabs a small piece of hair cascading down your face and moves it behind your ear.

“I came to see if you were okay. That looked nasty.”

She cocks her head towards your injured knee, red hair brushing over her shoulder. Before you can register her movement, she reaches out and takes the soaked paper from between your fingers. Vi wrings it out slightly, moving to place it back to your knee — inspecting the cut. She lets out a puff of air and furrows her brows. She’s so close to you, that you can feel the heat radiating off her body — it lulls you into a comforting daze. A sudden pang of embarrassment radiates in your chest, becoming increasingly aware of your disheveled appearance and tear-stained face. Reluctantly, you pull away from Vi’s soothing presence.

Vi notices the shift in your attitude, raising an eyebrow and meeting your face. “Everything ok?”

You nod, rubbing the last of your sobs away with the back of your sleeve. “Just… hurts a bit, that’s all.”

“Hm.” Vi chews at her bottom lip, pink-tongue darting out to wet parted mouth. “This might seem silly, but it used to help my sister,” she leans towards you — an unspoken ask for permission. You nod.

She bows her head to meet your knee, now clean from grime and dried-blood. Pressing chapped lips against the gash. It stings a bit, and you jerk back subconsciously. Yet, the warmth of Vi’s lips and the tenderness of which she kissed your injury makes up for the small pain. She smiles up to you, eyes kind and touch soft. “Still hurt?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, pondering her question. It hurts less after being cleaned, but the feeling of her lips on your skin lingers — and you want more. You nod your head. “Maybe again?”

Vi laughs at that, leaning back down to kiss the graze again. However, the break of contact is only momentary as her mouth meets your leg again, only this time slightly higher up. Your breath hitches as her fingertips follow the path of her mouth, up to rest on your cheek.

“Still hurt?” She asks again, only this time you shake your head. Looking into powder-blue eyes, you lean into her palm rubbing circles into your skin. There’s only inches of space between you, making your heart thrum as you run your tongue against blunt teeth. It takes a second, but eventually she closes the gap — capturing your lips with hers. The kiss is rough, less soft than the one to your knee. Vi pushes you against the wall of the locker-room, and you palm at her shoulders, her biceps sculpted under your hand. You pull away to breathe, inhaling deeply — the scents of the locker room filling your lungs.

The door bursts open again, and the rest of the class rushes through, ready to change and get on with the day.

Jinx - Rule-breaker

You shift in your bed, turning to face Jinx’s side of the dorm. Moonlight bleeds through open window, shining into the room and creating patterns on wooden floor. You slip out from underneath the sheets, socks padding on planks as you move to the open window.

Perched on the windowsill, Jinx rests back against the wall. Joint wrapped gently around lips, you watch as she breathes slowly, stomach growing taunt with each breath.

“Is that… weed?”

You hesitate, fingers reaching out to hold the support of the window. Jinx giggles, taking another inhale and holding the smoke in her lungs. You swallow, stomach fluttering at way she sits so relaxed. Her abdomen bare as her shirt folds above her ribs.

“That’s against the rules. If you get caught — you could get kicked out,”

Jinx rolls her eyes, slumping back to the wall. “You’re so whiny, loosen up a bit.”

She pats the sill next to her, beckoning you to sit next to her. You shuffle opposite to her, leaning back and watching as her nimble fingers take the blunt from her own mouth and holds it in-front of yours. She raises an eyebrow questioningly, cocking her head — daring you.

You turn your head to stare at the flickering lights of the other dorms. And Jinx huffs, pulling the blunt away and to her own lips. You exhale sharply at the sight of her cheeks hallowing, her mouth puckering around the edge of the rolled paper.

“You’re such a goody-two-shoes.”

She sticks her tongue out mockingly, waving the blunt around. Mischievous round-eyes meet yours, and you flush — turning back again to the light dotted around the building, like man-made constellations twinkling against darkness. You feel her feet prod at your legs curled up to your chest. Her nails are chipped blues-and-pinks, another rule-broken.

She finishes the joint, flicking the butt out of the window. Blue-braids cascade down thin shoulders as she leans forward. She takes a painted nail and drags it down your sternum, feeling the way your heart thrums against the skin. “What am I going to do with you?” She whispers into rosy-cheeks.

Jinx is the definition of insolent. A risk-taker, adrenaline-junky. Doing things for the sake of it and not really caring for consequence. She raises slender fingers to your face, dragging it down lips, watching as they part at the feeling of her caresses.

“I would ask if I could kiss you, but it’s against the rules. And I know how you love to follow orders.”

You swallow your anxiety, the intimate tension creating a lump at the back of your throat. You glance down to her lips, swollen with bites and small cracks. They’re cherry-red, flushed with blood as she drags her tongue along the bottom.

“Do it.”

Jinx smiles, brushing her nose against yours. She presses herself to you, and you can taste the faint-weed on her tongue. She kisses like she’s hungry, always been hungry and it feels amazing when you let her have you. You take your hands and hold her cheeks, running your thumb in soothing circles. Your noses brush together again as she moves her head.

Teeth scrape against rough skin, and a raspy chuckle vibrates through your mouth as Jinx laughs. You pull back, staring into ocean-blue eyes — watching as they glimmer under the shine of the industrial galaxy.

Cassandra K - Teacher's pet

You place another textbook onto the pile, shuffling them onto the middle-shelf at the back of the classroom. As you continue collecting the remaining books from the desks, the light shifts as the noon continues. Fragmenting onto the floor, creating patterns at your feet filtering an orange-pink glow through the half-shut blinds.

You decided to stay behind after class, being the one elected (and volunteering) to help your teacher clean up. Ms. Cassandra Kiramman sits at her large, oak desk — pen scratching onto paper as she writes or marks something. Occasionally she looks up, watching as you glide around the classroom, throwing away abandoned paper or cluttered books. The sun catching your face, illuminating features in a soft, dewy haze. You look angelic like this, she thinks.

You’re a good help, a benefit to the class. Always willing to do whatever it takes to secure a good reputation, educated mind. There’s also the added benefit of your teacher being insanely attractive.

You peek over the stack of equipment, pretending you are preoccupied with ‘helping,’ and find that Mrs. Kiramman’s eyes are locked on you. Deep, blue drags over your figure, greedily taking in your form.

She sits, perfectly poised, with contempt superiority. Blazer tight around her arms, and her chest. The navy cotton suits her, frames cerulean eyes and soft, pale skin. It’s a shame that it’s your last year at this school, you’re definitely going to miss this. Her stare, flickering towards you in the middle of a lesson, and the way she calls your name — sweetly spilling from thin, neatly coloured lips.

You put the class-equipment away, smiling at her in a slightly flirtatious manner. “All done?” She chides from the front of the classroom, resting her head on her fist and watching you through half-lidded eyes. You nod, sheepishly making your way to her desk.

“You’re a good girl. Thank you.”

The compliment makes you blush, fidgeting with the ends of your hair. Ms. Kiramman sucks in, hollowing her cheeks, as she pensively stares at you. For a minute, the room is quiet — only the hushed wind and chiming notifications from the computer filling the room. Suddenly, she straightens and examines the window to the hallway. She looks as though she expects someone to burst through the door, but the hallway remains bare, no pupils or teachers alike in sight.

Cassandra beckons you over with her index finger; long and neatly trimmed. Pushing herself from her sitting position, she looks down to your blushing face.

“For your hard work,” she says politely, yet her voice shakes ever-so-slightly.

She leans down, pecking you on the corner of your mouth. You stifle a gasp, holding your breath as your eyes dart to meet hers.

“Uh, thank you,” you manage to squeak out between quickened breaths. “…thank you.”

You raise your hand to touch where her lips just were, heart fluttering at just the recall of light sensation. You barely even notice that she’s back behind her desk, pen in hand and brows knitted together as she continues her work. As though nothing happened.

You feel giddy anyways, turning to leave the classroom. Stepping through the parted shadows, a golden-glow kissing at your face.

i'm thinking of writing a smut part 2 !! if that's maybe something you would want to see feel free to give me some ideas :p

[xhda1449x]

okay so I have Opinions TM about this because. well. am asexual. know asexual people. Been Like That before.

I had a friend. She's not my friend anymore. One of the reasons why is that she was a very sex negative asexual. Not repulsed, negative. Sex negative means Against It As A Concept. Repulsed means "ew, I really don't want to hear about any of it and I'm kinda disgusted by the way sexual attraction seems to run the world but yknow, that's me, y'all do you", right. It's a different thing. Some aces don't understand that.

I've known aces who think it's the identity for sex negativity. Aces who are attracted to people in an allo way (!!!) but think sex is gross. The friend I had was like that. Afaik she just... hated men so much she decided that wanting sex with women As A Guy is disgusting behavior so all sex is like that. Because she'd only use the "sex repulsed" card when interacting with guys. Because she was a lesbian and identified as such. Now yeah there are ace lesbians. I've also known a few of those. But that's not the point, the point is that so many people who don't want to have conventional PiV sex find the ace label and think it's for them.

Now uhhh my personal experience with the sex negativity excused as being sex repulsed mindset. So I have ocd. something most people around me know about. Over the years of Me Having It (so like... since I was 8 ig) it manifested in different ways. One of the most annoying intrusive thoughts I'd dealt with was just... my friends, my family members, in sexual situations. Not with me, just kinda... abstract, I guess, but one time I had a wholeass flashback because my friend told me he did indeed sleep with his girlfriend regularly so that's something. It's not really fun, imagining your two platonic-and-nothing-else friends Having Sex In Your Head and not being able to stop it. Also yeahhh the trauma def played a role too. Like, that's most likely what triggered me to Have OCD in the first place, and it took me a long time to get over that (mostly because I couldn't really tell anyone about it. I'm not gonna get into details but let's just say people don't really like to think that a young girl could hurt someone like that).

So now I'm in a relationship. First I've ever had. And I had to deal with Everything by being thrown head first into it. The first year was Hard, with another aspect of the ocd (it's always the ocd) being that I'd question my identity a lot. Sure I was dating someone but I was still ace because I didn't want to have sex with them right? Sure I don't mind the thought but I'm still ace because I wouldn't do it irl? SURE I CAN IMAGINE MYSELF DOING IT IRL BUT I'M STILL ACE, RIGHT, ACES CAN HAVE SEX?????? on top of dealing with Gender Questioning, too. Fun times!!!

But uh. yeah. turns out that I needed some help processing the trauma and now I'm like... the kink-cyclopedia for my friends or something. Like the person in the tags said, it's mostly theoretical. And funny thing is I've Been Like This even when I was a teenager!!! But I both pushed it down because That's Not How Aces Are and overplayed it because I wanted my friends to like me and at the time it seemed as if their only interest was Talking About Sex (idk, teenagers can be like that sometimes, or it can feel that way if you don't relate).

Anyway, yeah. For anyone who's like this (thinking ace is the label for sexual trauma survivors; thinking you're ace because you don't want sex; thinking being ace means being above sexual desires and that somehow making you better than everyone else), I've been there. And it was miserable. I'm still ace, because guess what, I'm still not sexually attracted to anyone besides maybe my partner and even then I'm not sure. But like... the reason why puritans are miserable isn't just because they're all horny and repressed. Building your whole identity on top of Hating Something will always make you miserable. Try to avoid that if you can.

I am both.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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taglist!! @zowiiiisblog , @kxnnxy , @rainingleaves , @icollectrubberduckies , @elsie-bells

[shigarosie]

ushiwaka x chubby reader because I need him desperately

“Hi, excuse me? My friend needs to get laid, would you consider-” 

“Oh my god! Stop!” 

Ushijima looks away from the tv across from the bar, where he had been watching a volleyball match. Hinata was playing, and he didn’t have a tv of his own, so it was off to the nearest sports bar he went. 

Beside him were two girls- pretty girls, he thought, though one was definitely more his type than the other. Curvy, plush, soft, sweet looking. She seemed shocked, her mouth agape as she slapped her friend’s shoulder. Embarrassed maybe, considering how her face was flushing. Or was that the alcohol? A drink was in her hand, something fruity. It looked almost empty. He wanted to buy her another one. 

“Ignore her,” you said, glaring at your friend. “I’m so sorry, that was incredibly rude and disrespectful.” 

“He’s hot,” your friend stage-whispers to you. “You should let him take you home.” 

“We’ll leave you alone now,” you tell him, grabbing your friend by the arm and beginning to try and lead her away. 

“You don’t have to,” he tells you. 

Your friend pushes you forward, closer to the very tall, very muscular, very handsome stranger sitting alone at the bar. 

“Aren’t you like. Totally creeped out and uncomfortable?” You ask, your arms wrapping around your torso. 

His eyes drag down your body, then take their time coming back up. He doesn’t shy away from eye contact, and that paired with the very serious look on his face made you squirm a little. 

“No,” he says. “I don’t mind.” 

Your lips purse. He watches the pretty shade of lipstick you have on smudge a little. Cute, he thinks. Very cute. 

“You can ignore her,” you repeat. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I don’t need-” you stop abruptly, considering your words. Maybe it wasn’t entirely untrue, but she doesn’t need to announce it to the first attractive guy she sees on your behalf! 

At your prolonged pause, Ushijima raises an eyebrow. His eyes dart back down to your body before they remeet your gaze. “Are you sure?” 

You gulp. Was he really implying he would take you home? Was he actually repeatedly checking you out? Was he not at all deterred by the bluntness of your friend throwing you at him?

“Y-yes?” 

He smiles a little. “You don’t sound sure.” He flags down the bartender. “Her next drink is on me.” 

“Oh you don’t have to-” 

“I want to,” he says, still with that very serious tone of his. “If you really don’t want to stay here and chat with me, you’re free to leave. But I don’t mind buying a drink for a beautiful woman.” 

You bite your lip. What harm could it do to talk with the handsome stranger for a bit? Maybe… Maybe you did need something to loosen you up a bit. 

“Okay,” you say, your voice smaller than you wanted it to be. You sit beside him, shimmying a little when the skirt of your dress slips up your thigh a bit. He definitely noticed, dark eyes lingering on your hemline before your new drink comes and he hands it to you, his large fingers daintily wrapped around the stem of the glass. He seemed gentle for such a large man. 

“I’m not always gentle,” he says. 

Fuck. You said that out loud. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks and your neck, and you sip your drink to keep yourself from saying anything else stupid. 

“But I can be,” he continues. “If that’s what you’d like.”

You take a deep breath. “You don’t have to chat me up,” you tell him. “Really, my friend-”

“This isn’t about her,” he cuts you off. “Or what she said. This is about you. And how attracted to you I am.” 

Oh, he’s blunt too. 

“So you… really want to take me home?” You ask, looking for him to reconfirm what he already made plenty obvious. 

“If you would allow me such a pleasure,” he says, one of those large, gentle hands falling to your bare knee.

You take a breath. Then a sip. Then you place a hand on his forearm. 

“You don’t… have to be gentle,” you say. 

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches into his pocket, throws some bills onto the bartop, and stands, offering a hand to you to lead you out of the bar. 

You think you hear your friend cheer as you leave together.

[enchantressiren]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐀 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥.❞

Who has their eye on you? (Very detailed)

Masterlist.

Author's note,

I would appreciate if everyone read this -> Boundaries.

Divider.

Pile I.

If you’re into men, then this pile is for you. If not, you picked the wrong pile (an intuitive disclaimer).

There is a tall man who makes sure he takes care of himself and always eyes your body like eye candy. Their smell is rich, it makes your nostril flare up slightly, aching to be beneath him and allowing him to stuff you full. This man knows how to draw you in and likes to play coy around you. Possibility of him manifesting you as their specific person with one sided love (on his side), or you both are manifesting each other unaware you both are looking for the same qualities in each other. He is someone who likes to subtly touch you and apologize gracefully for others when you know damn well he is bullshitting. He is someone who focuses on being the best version of himself for the wealth that streams from his wallet. Meaning, it does not matter who you are, he is going to do everything in his power to take what is his. Even if that means it is you and your private parts.

Some of you actually have already had sex with him and have made him your friend with benefits, or you have somewhat of a situationship. During sex, they absolutely love to grope your ass, always telling you how perfect it is and how it fits right with his dick. How it thrusts nicely into your ass or pussy (depending on your situation). Or how it feels so warm on the tip of his dick as it hits and molds nicely into your sweet spot. He is the epitome of those mafia stories you see in smut stories or Wattpad stories (but very nicely done stories). He reeks of sexy perfume and dark red, adding a bit of dark blue if he were a color. His aura drags you in, which is how the both of you had sex in the bathroom, somewhere with people, whether it was hidden or risky, or how you both met if you don’t have a specific relationship with them. He is someone who will brag about how good his aftercare is but suck painfully with it and need your guide for it. His ego is through the roof, but you make this bastard soft as a puppy. He is aching to be around you, and when he is, he always struggles to hide his boner, or the bulge in his pants. He loves sucking your juices or will if you do decide to have sex or date him.

If you do decide to date him, the relationship will be gorgeous and surprisingly healthy considering how his mind runs. Or how you have seen him with others, the trope “I hate everyone, and I mean everyone but you and my pet” is really it. Key of advice: make sure to give him a blowjob during angry sex so he can become pudding and pamper you. His last lover never gave him oral, so he has been craving it, but also, it is part of a love language for him.

Masterlist.

Pile II.

It’s not a who, more so a what. Now, I know that sounds confusing, but let me make it clear. Do you speak to deities? Spirits, ghosts, and so forth that are associated with sexual energy? Because that is what I am picking up, and their energy is so soothing that you know you can trust them, and they are there to guide you through your journey. I would not say they are like spirit guides, or part of your ancestral guide, but they are similar to a teacher.

They are eyeing you because they want to protect you and make sure you follow their teachings. A lot of you are becoming impatient with your future spouse, lover, fwb, etc., coming to you and assuming every person that feels ‘’right’’ to you, or that you connect well with, is your lover/situationship. None of them that are coming are yours; you are supposed to meet them, and that is what they told you, so listen to them. They are meant to help you despite what others have said about them. Some of the people that you have spoken to were into this and have told you not to trust them because of what they are and the stories about them, but from an energy perspective, they are trustworthy and actually adore you. Now, I am always hesitant to talk about deity energy since I don’t know if the pile you are reading is actually for you or not, but I will give you signs that may help:

Lucifer, Lilith, Nyx, Athena, Zeus, Tlazolteotl, sponge it up, something to do with pain, tears, and breaking his heart, breaking my heart, Apollo is my certain love, and the demons of it’s figure.

Now, if these signs are not fitting with what you have seen, heard, spoken to, etc., then do not trust the deity you speak with. It does not matter if the deity you speak to is not in the sign list, it is only what signs were channeled. and what resonated. And if it does not fit through, please cleanse your energy fast and efficiently since I keep seeing red warning signs and alarms ringing in my head.

Moving on, your deity has spoken to you about the gifts your future person will bring into the relationship, but they have spoken about how you are being ungrateful with the circumstance you have right now. I understand that sometimes trying to figure out who your future person can be draining and exciting, but it can also cause weird paranoia. And that sometimes it feels like those mystery games, but you have to let it go, trust in your deity (and spirit guides for some), and work on yourself. You have to learn to trust your intuition about which deity you speak to, about who you have sex with, and when you masturbate (because intuition tells me you are causing yourself more pain in associating yourself with your trauma kinks/thoughts instead of focusing on what makes you feel good), and ignoring the signs that tell you to leave certain situations surrounding you. Your environment has a lot of toxicity, and you only stay in them so you do not feel lonely, but sometimes it is a good thing to be lonely since you learn a lot about who you are. And that is something you need and what your deities have been telling you. Some of you are ignoring their teachings because you use people to hide away from your pain.

You need to talk to yourself as you would with someone else that you felt close to and get to know yourself as a best friend. Learn to appreciate your behaviors that you find “repulsive,” and understand that it is okay to be different than everyone else. Being different is not repulsive, it is a beautiful and cool thing. Fitting in is what is ruining your relationship with yourself and your future person. So instead of being so impatient about something that can happen within the year, why don’t you use that time to do better for yourself? Because at the end of the day, the only person who is stopping you is you. You are the person who can change your world, even if it is something small. For example, let’s say you are living in a toxic environment, but you have a desire to learn all you can? You can use free resources that allow you to. The internet has the same resources that allow you to learn, you do not need courses to learn or scholarly reports to learn. Everything is available to us now because of how broad the internet is. Now, you could have complained about it, but you did not and decided to do better for yourself and change. One step at something is much better than doing absolutely nothing. Even if you read something for a minute, it can still benefit you.

I felt like something was missing when I was editing your work, but some of you have to understand this fully. You cannot manifest your future person either. Some of you thought about it throughout this pile, and like I mentioned, I understand how desperate you are for love, but this paranoia that is surrounding you and your heart is the problem. I understand that you can manifest anything, and it does not matter how you do it, but you have this belief that it does matter, and you must have emotions in order to manifest. So instead, why don't you have a clear mind and heart for this person, so when you do meet them, you can be better for both yourself and them as well as make it easier for yourself to manifest with a clear conscience? Do not be your own blockage when it comes to this or sabotage yourself through your overwhelming paranoia that surrounds your mind every second of your time.

Masterlist.

Pile III.

Your first kiss back from August when you were either a kid or a teenager. You still keep in touch with them. I wouldn’t say the kiss meant anything between you both, I would say it happened by accident for the both of you until now. Have you noticed their flirty remarks with you, especially when you hang out around others, how they only gaze at you despite others coming to flirt with them, how they pamper you for no reason, or how they are doing it more frequently, how they decided it would be best if they stood next to you where the cars are located rather than the other way around? How they believe it is important for you to suddenly take care of yourself, and though some of you already do, they make it somewhat overbearing, but you push it aside because it is them. Have you also noticed how doting they are with you, how sometimes they coddle you, or how they make sure you have taken your medication when it comes to your body or latest surgery? Have you noticed all of these, or have you been pushing them aside because you would rather stay oblivious instead of admitting your teenage crush has feelings for you, or perhaps has already fallen in love with you? With your ability to be genuine with everyone, with your ability to show people respect and compassion without seeking anything back, with your ability to write efficiently without the need to re-edit your work, with your ability to be smooth when you think you are being geeky and awkward. Have you also noticed how they make somewhat dirty remarks only around you? Have you noticed they do it out of respect for your body and privacy, and yet you still decide to ‘’act’’ oblivious because it is too scary to admit they like you back? The word "back” scares you, it is like your heart is trying to escape, but a strong pull is pushing you back into the same corner. It is not a bad thing to be committed to someone in a relationship, but for you, being stuck in one relationship and not having the ability to explore with others seems suffocating. And for you, all of this stems from trauma, that one memory you are pushing away in hopes it gets pushed away as well.

I am not the person to decide for you whether or not you explore this relationship with them; all I will mention are some things that may change your mind since that is what your heart is begging for you to do. As well as some key things to help you heal.

When things become tough for you, your favorite activity is throwing the relationship away or sabotaging your achievements through disrespecting your honor and then laughing about it. When things become tough, it is easier for you to feel shame or regret rather than deal with the toxicity of your actions. And lastly, when things become tough, it is easier for you to be your own ruthless villain than to take accountability for your wrongdoings. Yet, at the end of the day, there is one person who has always stayed by your side, never changing their mind on who you are because they know how far you can go. They know how much potential you would have if you allowed yourself to deal with your sadness and realize that being sad is not a weakness nor is it a blessing. Our emotions are simply emotions, they come and go. Sometimes they make us realize some things, giving us mental clarity, and other times, they are a reminder of how we feel about the situation, or internally. In short, emotions are subjective and man made, therefore, feeling those emotions should not be the problem when it comes to challenges arising. You should understand that you are the one creating those emotions.

For example, let’s say that I am dealing with a breakup. The usual response would be to cry about it and think about them constantly, be angry and try to seek revenge or be petty, maybe sleep around and brush them out of my mind, etc. But this would stem from how secure I am with who I am and how our relationship was like. Though, if I were secure, then I would understand what had happened, use that sadness as an opportunity to improve, and learn the lessons. Embrace the fond memories, or perhaps use those memories to find someone better for myself. But then again, this is my idea of how a breakup would go if someone was healthy or unhealthy. How do you see it? You have to ask yourself this.

Once you have asked yourself this and finally understood it, ask yourself another question. “Why do I feel the need to distance myself from those that actually care for me? What am I seeking when I do this, and how is it helping me?” Asking this will help you understand if you actually want a relationship in the first place and help trigger those fears in a safe manner instead of you pushing yourself to be someone else when you answer self-aware questions.

Now that you have asked these and fully understood them, allow me to speak about your friend, and then it will be your choice. And if you need to stop this reading and come back after a month, then please read this when you are fully ready.

This person has been by your side when you ruin your past relationships. They are someone who will stop what they are doing to be by your side or help you when your past comes back to you. Sometimes, they will pamper you with fresh fruits or hot meals and hope it can soothe your mind away from those thoughts that have been affecting you lately. They are someone who will soothe your tears with kisses or caress your tears away with pure determination; someone who sees the bright side of things when you think it is better to be realistic and pessimistic. They are someone who texts you faster and makes sure your feelings are taken into consideration, as well as your family (if you are close with them) or your pet that may be sick at the moment, and if not, your pets. They will buy you the things you adore without any expectations or seeking your validation (your exs were like that). They are someone who will be firm with you when you make a mistake but not allow you to walk over them. They are someone who sets boundaries with you and others, and though it does not go well with others, they keep their head high and focus on what is more important to them. They are someone who hates the concept of gossip and makes sure to not engage, and when they are pulled into it, they act oblivious and make sure people see them as ‘dumb’ or ‘silly.’ To them, it is better to be seen as that than engage with something repulsive like that. They are someone who makes sure they uplift people, especially behind their back, and you have seen it multiple times, thus causing your heart to fall for them.

Yeah, you are crushing on them hard since you were young but have been pushing away from your past experiences. Some of you are actually in love with them but keep gaslighting yourselves because it is easier for you. And ironically, ‘Love Someone’ by Lukas Graham popped up. It fits quite well with how they view you and how you view this whole situation. I believe there is nothing else to channel because once you listen to the song, everything will make sense.

Masterlist.

[sad-wet-cat-hannibal]

(Essay incoming so I'm adding a read more)

I think you've said some good stuff here, and I too get annoyed or even angered by people using the term in a way that I interpret as flippant; but I'd like to add that as someone who frequently described distressing books and films as "traumatising", it turned out that that word was rather apt - because my intense response was caused by my trauma being triggered by those very same things, too often in ways that felt like reliving it.

Here's the kicker. I didn't know I *had* any trauma. All I knew was that engaging with these works made me feel distressed and disturbed as if I were personally traumatised by these things. Like they were real. Like they damaged me. Just from reading them or seeing them. They'd haunt me for weeks, sometimes months, sometimes years. Sometimes they gave me weird symptoms I couldn't explain. So, naturally, I was hyper-avoidant as fuck.

That intense sensitivity and hyper-avoidance, combined with my ignorance to the fact that my psyche was not experiencing these things from an untraumatised position, meant I thought that "intensely distressing/traumatising" was just the normal effect these things had - except lots of other people seemed oblivious, and even delighted in the exact same works. Sometimes none more so than the kind of motherfuckers who actually like traumatising people.

So I figured, as incomprehensible as it seemed, everyone else had to be either too numbed out/oblivious/naïve to realise how awful this shit was, or were actually big fans of bad things happening in real life.

Because if to me it felt too real, capable of destroying my peace of mind for weeks, then surely to some extent that must be the same for everyone else, right? (Obviously not, but I was younger and working with what limited knowledge I had.) From that logic it's really easy to buy into censorship, into propaganda that claims that the symptoms of a society with a dysfunctional approach to life are often born of the media that echoes them, rather than the other way round. It's real to you. It's your only explanation. (You don't want to feel like this. You don't want anyone to feel like this. It's inhumane.)

What I'm trying to say is that not everyone knows they're traumatised. I think as many as those who do, do not. Perhaps far more. And for those people, the only time they are able to touch on the truth of their half-veiled iceberg is when they tell you that The Bridge to Terabithia "traumatised" them.

(I know it "did" me.)

Telling them they're exaggerating, and misusing language that doesn't apply to them runs the very real risk of making it harder for them to treat their feelings with the consideration and weight they deserve, and enabling them to begin the process of unraveling their denial and tending their wounds. It runs the risk of reinforcing the (potentially forgotten or minimised) messaging they may have already received, during and after the trauma, that it doesn't matter. They're exaggerating. They're making things up. Other people have trauma, other people have it so much worse, other people suffer - but not you. Your account of your experience is unbelievable. Silly. You will not be seen or heard or understood, not by anyone else, and not by yourself...

Yet. Hopefully one day. But I think it often takes other people being willing to shine a light on the pain, and say, "Yeah, it's real. It's caused by things. You aren't alone and you aren't exaggerating."

I think the flippant watering down of the word is potentially very unhelpful too, but there's a section of society who want to push the narrative that the vast majority of people speaking seriously and from a place of relevant psycho-education about their trauma are just special snowflakes jumping on a trend. Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel wary of adding fuel to their fire by trying to gatekeep trauma. I don't know what the solution to these two conflicting uses of the word is, or if it's even possible to create a solution that doesn't simultaneously police the traumatised out of expressing their pain the only way they currently know how. Which would set back the whole thing of trying to help people... We get enough trauma olympics ingrained into everyone as it is.

Oh yeah!! Just remembered, Gabor Mate said in either his book from 2024 or an interview about it that he considers everyone to be traumatised, the question is simply one of degree (if I'm remembering correctly). So from that it may in fact be possible to argue that books and films can traumatise people, although perhaps not necessarily to the extent we might associate with PTSD or CPTSD.

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.