#oop i got bold at some point

[pazzi5351]

PART 2

Just Friends

Highschool AU

Fb p x cheerleader a

Bsf to lovers

WC: 2.8k

AN: ok I know this may be a bit of a rush but things get good then they get bad then good again so bare with me! It’s 2:16am as I’m finishing typing this and I started writing at 12…. I hope yall notice what I did there! I was inspired by Azzi’s hard launch… Oop I mean Tik tok!!! Feel free to offer suggestions or what you wanna see next! Happy reading🤠

————————————————————————————

The fairground buzzed with neon lights and the sound of teenagers high off adrenaline and fried food. Paige moved through the crowd with Nika and a few of her football teammates, the post-win energy still buzzing under her skin.

“Bro,” Jalen said, sidling up next to her with a crooked smirk, “you seen Azzi’s story?”

Nika snorted, already pulling it up on her phone. “Matching outfits? Arms all around each other? That caption? ‘Pre-playoffs outing with my fav’? You got her out here acting like wifey.”

Paige groaned and rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

“Nah deadass,” Jalen said, handing Nika his phone to get a better look. “That’s not best friend behavior. Be honest P—what’s really going on?”

Paige rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in her head. “We’re just friends. Y’all act like you’ve never seen two people match on accident.” (She knew it was a total lie she just told her friends because she definitely picked out Azzi’s outfit with all intentions of matching but her friends did not need to know that)

“That’s a bold accident,” Nika muttered.

“Chill. It’s not like that,” Paige insisted, stuffing her hands in her pockets and walking a little faster.

But then—she saw it.

A football toss booth. Definitely one without a giant Olaf plush in sight. Absolutely not. Definitely not the reason her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas.

“Yeo!” she shouted to her teammates. “Y’all tryna get smoked at this football toss right now? Someone play me.”

They whooped and followed, stepping up to the booth as Paige handed over a few tickets and sized up the target.

A familiar voice from behind made her freeze mid-throw.

“Well well well,” Caroline sing-songed. “Look who’s showing out.”

Paige turned, brows lifting in surprise. There stood Azzi, Caroline, and Mackenzie, all practically glowing under the fair lights. Mackenzie and Caroline were already striking up a conversation with some of the boys, but Azzi?

Azzi was watching her.

More specifically, watching the way her arm cocked back before a throw. The way the veins in her hand popped just a little. The flex in her forearm. Azzi’s lips parted, and her head tilted slightly. She wasn’t doing a great job at pretending she wasn’t staring.

Paige had one ball left. One shot to win. Her teammates were gassing her up in the background.

“Let’s go, P! One more!”

“She got this easy.”

“Ain’t no way she misses!”

Feeling bold—too bold—Paige turned around to Azzi.

“Az,” she said, loud enough to cut through the noise. “You should totally gimme a kiss for good luck.”

Azzi’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh. You don’t need luck during a real game, remember?”

The crowd around them chuckled, but Azzi rolled her eyes and stepped forward anyway, pressing a soft kiss to Paige’s cheek.

“Happy?” she murmured.

The noise around them exploded with “OOOHs!” and “OKAYYY!” and even a wolf whistle from Carson, one of the offensive linemen.

Paige grinned, turned, and nailed the shot. The ball hit dead center in the circle. Bullseye.

She immediately pointed to the giant Olaf plush hanging behind the booth.

“That one,” she said.

The worker handed it over, and without hesitation, Paige passed it straight to Azzi. Azzi clutched it to her chest, smiling so wide her nose scrunched up.

“Simp,” Jalen mumbled under his breath as he passed Paige.

She flipped him off with a laugh, then threw her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, letting it hang there casually—domestically—as they walked away from the game.

They broke off from the group, just the two of them weaving through the crowd in quiet ease, talking about nothing and everything.

“I want a funnel cake,” Azzi said.

“Aight, bet.”

They found a stand and shared one, sitting on the curb as powdered sugar lightly flew around in the air around them. Azzi took the first bite and immediately got sugar on the tip of her nose. Paige nearly choked on her own piece.

“Wait, wait—don’t move,” she said, pulling out her phone.

Azzi turned to her, smiling wide, powder-dusted and all. Paige took the picture and didn’t say anything after. She just stared at it for a moment, then closed her phone without posting it. Like the image was meant for her only.

She reached forward with a soft laugh and wiped the sugar off Azzi’s nose, fingers lingering. Azzi’s face tilted toward her hand. Their eyes met. Close. Too close.

Then—

“YO P!” Jalen called from behind them. “Nika says pull up to her crib! You two coming?”

They blinked, pulling apart fast. Paige cleared her throat. “Yeah, we’ll come. Just for a bit.”

Azzi nodded, standing up, wiping powdered sugar off her legs.

Later at Nika’s house, the vibe was chill. A movie played softly in the background. Uno cards were being smacked against a table. Caroline was off talking to one of the linemen. Azzi and Paige sat curled on the couch.

“Y’all tryna smoke?” one of Paige’s teammates offered, holding up a blunt he just rolled.

Paige shook her head. “Nah, I gotta drive.”

But beside her, Azzi perked up. “I’ll try.”

Paige turned quickly. “Azzi—you sure?”

Azzi shrugged. “Yeah. You told me no last time I wanted to try. This is your payback. Can’t even smoke with me now.”

“Shit, alright,” Paige said, laughing softly. “Fine.”

She lit it and held it out for Azzi, guiding her. “Inhale slow. Like this.”

Azzi did, surprisingly well.

“Damn, Az. We don’t know if you’re a lightweight yet, but we’re about to find out real quick.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and took another pull. A few minutes later, she started leaning into Paige’s side, her eyes glazed and red, giggling at nothing.

Nika called her over, and Azzi got up—barely—leaning close to Paige’s ear to whisper, “I’ll be right back.”

Paige nodded, trying so hard, and failing, not to notice the way Azzi’s chest hovered in front of her face. Or the way her hips swayed as she walked off.

But she was very aware.

Too aware.

“Yo,” Jalen said, sliding into Azzi’s empty spot. “You were not being slick just now.”

“What?”

“You were staring at her tits. And her ass. Crazy work from someone who claims that that’s ‘nothing’.”

Paige didn’t even blink. “Well, I never said I didn’t not find her attractive. Gosh— God forbid a girl thinks her friend is hot.”

They both cracked up.

Soon after, Paige stood. “Alright man, imma head out.”

She dapped up Jalen before finding Azzi and Nika, both high off their asses.

“Nika, what the fuck bro. Now I gotta deal with Azzi’s fried ass.”

Azzi giggled. “Paigey I’m not that high, relax.”

“Right,” Paige said, leading her out. “Come on.”

Azzi leaned on her the whole way. “You always give me princess treatment,” she murmured. “I’m so spoiled when I’m with you.”

Paige rolled her eyes, heart racing. “Yeah cause you’re a spoiled brat. Come on, let's go home.”

—

The car ride was calm, Azzi singing off-key, humming wrong lyrics. Paige didn’t even care. When they pulled into her driveway, Azzi looked at her, eyes half-lidded.

“Carry me?”

Paige groaned, pretending to protest. “You’re so lucky I kinda fuck with you.”

She grabbed the Olaf plush from the back, let Azzi hop on her back, tightening her grip on her thighs to hold her up. When Azzi made a small, involuntary sound—a moan?—Paige felt it in her bones.

She sped-walked inside.

Once in her room, she dropped Azzi onto the bed and tossed the Olaf at her.

“Hey!” Azzi giggled.

Paige went into the bathroom, splashed her face, and breathed. When she came back out, Azzi was in her sweatpants and a sports bra she’d left one time.

Paige froze. “You look good in my clothes.”

Azzi tilted her head, smirking. “Oh yeah?”

Paige climbed in beside her. “Mhm.”

They were both curled under Paige’s blankets now, the soft hum of music from her speaker melting into the silence between them. Azzi lay on her side, eyes half-lidded with one hand tucked under her cheek. Paige was sitting up against the headboard, hoodie still on, knees drawn up, twisting one of her rings as she glanced down at her.

“You good?” Paige asked, voice low.

Azzi blinked up at her, her eyes glossy and slow. “Mmhmm. You’re so warm,” she murmured, reaching out to grab the hem of Paige’s hoodie and tugging it lightly. “Like a space heater.”

Paige smirked, brushing her fingers against Azzi’s wrist. “Yeah, well… I got layers on. You’re barely even wearing anything.”

Azzi grinned. “You want me to take more off?”

Paige’s breath caught. She glanced away, shaking her head but smiling. “You’re such a menace when you’re high.”

“You’re just scared I’m gonna say something real.”

“Mhm? Like what?”

Azzi shifted, her head now resting on Paige’s thigh, eyes scanning her face lazily. “Like… you’re cute when you get flustered.”

Paige rolled her eyes, biting down a smile. “I’m not flustered.”

“You’re so flustered. You’re, like, blushing under your hoodie.”

Paige gave her a look. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Azzi grinned, that slow, teasing grin that made Paige’s stomach turn, in a good way. “You wanna kiss me.”

Paige exhaled a laugh, leaning her head back against the wall. “You’re literally high off your ass right now.”

“And you’re literally staring at my mouth.”

Paige looked back down, and yeah — maybe she was. Azzi’s lips were still slightly glossy from whatever lipgloss she was using, shiny and pink. Her lashes were fluttery, and she looked annoyingly good in Paige’s sweats that she stole from the older girl.

Azzi sat up slowly, pushing herself closer, her legs crossing as she leaned toward Paige. “I’m not wrong.”

“You’re not right either.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Then prove it.”

The room went still. Paige blinked. “What?”

“Kiss me,” Azzi said, lowly. “Or admit you want to and won’t.”

The air between them was electric.

Paige licked her lips. “You’re really playing with me tonight.”

Azzi leaned in a breath away from her mouth, voice just above a whisper. “Then do something about it, P.”

And that was Paige’s last straw.

Paige kissed her.

It started slow — a hesitant press of lips that tasted like funnel cake and weed — but the second Azzi kissed her back, it was over. Paige’s hand slid up her jaw, fingers slipping into Azzi’s curls as Azzi leaned in with a soft, needy sound. It was hungry and warm, their mouths moving like they’d been waiting for this forever.

Azzi tugged Paige’s hoodie, trying to pull her closer without breaking the kiss, her fingers bunching in the fabric at her waist. Azzi shifted so she was fully straddling Paige’s lap, knees sinking into the mattress as her other hand cradled the back of Paige’s head, both of them breathless already.

Azzi’s hands slid up under Paige’s hoodie — her warm palms resting on Paige’s bare waist —Paige shivered, letting out a soft gasp against her mouth.

“You’re cold,” Azzi mumbled into the kiss.

“You’re high,” Paige whispered back, and then kissed her again, deeper this time.

Azzi tilted her head and let her lips drift lower, kissing softly at Paige’s jaw. “Still think I’m wrong?”

Paige exhaled sharply, eyes fluttering shut as Azzi kissed beneath her ear. “Shut up.”

Azzi smiled against her skin and kissed down her neck — slow, open-mouthed, lingering — like she had all the time in the world. Paige tilted her head without thinking, giving her more access, and Azzi took full advantage, sucking gently just below her jawline.

“Az,” Paige whispered, breath catching.

Azzi paused, lips ghosting over the spot. “Yeah?”

“Do that again.”

Azzi did. And again. Her hands slid up Paige’s back beneath her hoodie, nails scratching lightly over skin. Paige rocked her hips upwards slightly, groaning as her own lips found Azzi’s neck in return, biting down gently just to see what it would do.

Azzi’s breath hitched. “Paige—”

“Mmhmm?” Paige hummed into her skin, trailing kisses down to her collarbone and the tops of her chest.

Azzi’s fingers gripped her hips tighter. “You’re literally evil.”

“You started it.”

They both laughed, then kissed again, messier this time, teeth hitting once before it melted back into a familiar rhythm. Paige let herself get lost in it — the way Azzi tasted, the heat of her hands, the way her body curved perfectly on top of hers.

And under the blankets, with the world shut out, there was no teasing left. Just the buzz of skin and want and whispered names in the dark.

“Good night Paige,” Azzi mumbled.

“Night Az,” Paige said, arm wrapped tight around the younger girls waist.

—

The room was quiet. Early morning light filtering in through Paige’s blinds, casting soft shadows over the two girls curled beneath her covers.

Paige woke up first.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the warmth of the light and the warmth of Azzi. One of Azzi’s legs was tangled between hers. Paige’s hoodie was hiked halfway up her stomach, and Azzi’s hand was resting under it, warm against her bare waist like it had been there all night.

Azzi’s face was nestled into Paige’s neck, lips slightly parted, her breath soft and even. She looked unfairly pretty like this — messy curls scattered around her face, her lips slightly swollen, a faint mark on her collarbone that made Paige’s stomach twist with dizzying pride.

And panic.

Because then she remembered—the hickeys.

Paige’s heart thudded, and she carefully peeled the blankets back, slowly sitting up as if sudden movement might wake her. She looked down at herself — neck, chest, collarbone — and yeah, it was bad.

Azzi had really gone in.

There were red, blooming marks trailing down her neck and one just above her chest, dark and obvious like Azzi had meant to leave them. Like she wanted people to know. Paige groaned quietly, flopping back against the pillow.

Azzi stirred.

Paige froze, heart racing. Azzi blinked groggily, her eyes soft and unfocused. She made a sleepy little noise in her throat before turning her face toward Paige, nose scrunching up.

“Morning,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Paige stared. “You’re possessive as shit Az. You marked me the fuck up.”

Azzi blinked, then slowly smiled. “…I did?”

Paige threw the covers off with a dramatic sigh and turned so Azzi could see the damage.

Azzi propped herself up on one elbow, biting her lip as she took in the sight. “Shit,” she said, not even trying to hide her grin. “Okay, but it’s kinda hot.”

Paige gave her a flat look. “Az.”

“What! It is!”

“I have school.”

Azzi giggled, pressing her face into Paige’s shoulder. “You could wear a turtleneck.”

“Are you deadass? I still have football, the guys are gonna give me so much shit.”

Azzi laughed harder now, her whole body shaking under the blankets. Paige groaned again, dragging a pillow over her face.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Azzi whispered, kissing the side of her neck gently — just below one of the hickeys. “You loved it.”

Paige peeked out from under the pillow. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Azzi smiled. “You’re lucky I kinda like your annoying ass.”

That quieted Paige for a second. Her heart stumbled a little. Azzi didn’t take it back. She just stared at Paige with this sleepy affection that Paige had never seen directed at her quite like that before.

She felt her throat tighten. “Deadass? Like you meant that for real?”

Azzi nodded, brushing her fingers over Paige’s hip. “You know I do.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her — soft and slow. Azzi kissed her back like she had all the time in the world.

And then—

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

“Yo, P?” a voice rang from the hallway. “You up?”

Paige’s entire soul left her body. “Shit. That’s Drew.”

Azzi’s eyes went wide. “Paige.”

“Uh… just don’t move.”

Too late.

The door cracked open, and Drew’s voice followed instantly. “Yo, you left your—”

He stopped.

His eyes landed directly on the two of them— Azzi half-hidden, Paige in nothing but a hoodie and boxers, and hickeys dotting her neck like neon “bite me” signs.

The silence was loud.

Paige groaned. “Drew.”

He blinked. “…Damn.”

Paige grabbed the nearest throw pillow and launched it. “Get out!”

Drew laughed all the way down the hall, voice echoing, “Dad’s gonna love this.”

Azzi covered her face with both hands. “I’m never coming over again.”

Paige turned to her, cheeks red. “Yes you are.”

Azzi peeked through her fingers. “Even if I keep doing that to your neck as ‘besties’?”

Paige smirked, eyes drifting down to her mouth again. “Especially then.”

[musaslullaby]

The first race

grid x fem reader

p1 p2 p3 p4

Summary: It’s your first Formula 1 race, but it doesn’t seem like you’re nervous.

Face: Bianca Bustamante and other

Warning: Most of the grid has a small weakness for you. It's a series

Masterlist

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Yn.official

Description: Ready for my first race? But first, breakfast with @.yourcousin.

liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 293932892

user90: How do you manage to look so calm?

F1_: We are more nervous than she is.

Fonefever: You guys are joking, but how is she always so beautiful???

Ynlife: It's so cute that she has breakfast with her cousin before a race.

Landonorris: Hey, invite me next time, maybe we could make it a habit. ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Sorry, but these are girls-only mornings.

danielricciardo: You shouldn’t eat those things before a race, trust me, dad knows best.

georgerussell63: Yeah, he knows something about that.

YnandLando: Guys, if Yn is driving in the third picture, who took the photo?

Loverace: Maybe her cousin???

Vroom: Or what if someone came to pick her up???

carlossainz55: If you like pancakes, you should come to my place. I could cook them just for you.

❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: Since when are you so romantic and sweet, Carlos?

carlossainz55: I’ve always been, you just didn’t know.

Yn.official: I gladly accept your offer, Carlito.

danielricciardo: Yn, remember what I taught you? Never go to a stranger’s house and especially don’t accept sweets from them.

f1gossip: Honestly, if Carlos were offering me sweets, I’d fly to him.

Carlss55: Guys????

Yn.official

Description: This is the price to pay when your cousin is a huge Ferrari fan (Maybe I am too 🤫).

Liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

yourcousin: I didn’t force you to do any of this.

Yn.official: It won’t take me long to revoke your VIP pass.

yourcousin: Okay, sorry (see you after the race). ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Bye-bye love.

user33: Haas is going to be mad.

love4: I can only imagine their faces when they see this post.

Ynlife: Let’s hope you don’t get fired, Yn.

C+Y: Charles and Yn would make a cute couple.

charles_leclerc: If you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked.

❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: Not everyone is that bold.

Landonorris: It’s probably better to kiss cardboard than you.

lewishamilton: Mind if I also get you some Mercedes teddy bears?

❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Oh my gosh yes, thanks, it’ll be the sign of our friendship.

georgerussell63: Come take a tour of the Mercedes garage.

❤️ Like to author

kimiantonelli: Yn, if you need anything, you know where to find me. ❤️ Like to author

Olliebearman: Umm… let me remind you she’s my teammate.

danielricciardo: I’ll knock you all off the track today.

Yn.official

Description: Ollie is asleep, and dad said no more phone use 😒.

Liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

F1lover: What a beautiful family!!!

❤️ Like to author

Ollie_: Maybe Daniel will become the father-in-law of Ollie.

Bear: Ollie is thinking about how to win Yn over.

maxverstappen1: It’ll be tough, my friend.

georgerussell63: Oliver, the warm-up? You’re not allowed to stop.

Olliebearman: Yn, you traitor.

Yn.official: Oops, it was a pleasure.

danielricciardo: Get off the phone and go for a run too.

Ynlife: Yn got scolded by dad. ❤️ Like to author

One: I’m sure now Yn’s gallery is full of pictures of Daniel.

Landonorris: It won’t be a pleasant sight.

oscarpiastri: I agree.

haasf1team: After the last post, you now owe us at least some points.

user45: Trouble for Yn.

charles_leclerc: If I’m in the right mood, I’ll let you pass, Yn. ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: What a gentleman.

georgerussell63

Description: Our girl finally came!!!!!

Liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

carlossainz55: Cabron, hands off.

danielricciardo: Remember, she’s my daughter.

Formual10_: No guys, I can’t handle this, they’re so cute.

Landonorris: Come to me too, Yn.

oscarpiastri: Can I offer you some tea? To cool you down, maybe you’re hot.

Yn.official: Thank you, Oscar, for your concern.

user6: George is so happy in that hug.

flove: But also, look at her smile.

mErcedes: Kimi, on the other hand, looks shyer.

Lifef1: She would make a beautiful couple with any of them.

Lan: Imagine Yn’s children with the different drivers.

Vroom: Masterpieces.

Race: I’m already ready for the wedding.

Landonorris

Description: Umm… I had to go retrieve Yn who got lost in the paddock.

Liked by: Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

user12: How many outfit changes does this girl make?

georgerussell63: She’s a model, she has style, just like me.

maxverstappen1: Are you sure you’re stylish?

mclaren: You two would make a great team.

❤️ Like to author

f1race: Even McLaren recognizes their chemistry. ❤️ Like to author

op81: Oh my gosh, after Charles, now Lando too???

Charlesfan: Yn, you owe us some explanations—what’s going on between you and Charles?

Vroom: I think they’re just friends.

4ln: Yn is driving all the guys on the grid crazy!

Yn.official

Description: 10th place and Charles Leclerc won, I couldn’t be happier. Obviously aiming for the podium.

Liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

charles_leclerc: You brought me good luck.

❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: You didn’t keep your promise. You didn’t let me pass.

charles_leclerc: I'm sorry moun ange ❤️ Like to author

user32: This nickname is sooo cute

Yn.official: Thanks Charlie

Landonorris: For your first race, you did well.

❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Thanks, Landotwowin.

user43: Everyone’s proud of Yn.

Racelove: The track is her natural habitat.

georgerussell63: Sooner or later, you’ll overtake all of us.

❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: Watch out, Max—Yn might steal your World Champion title in the coming years. ❤️ Like to author

maxverstappen1: I’d be more than happy to hand it over to her. ❤️ Like to author

user45: Max being kind??? To Yn???

carlossainz55: The award for worst photo ever goes to Yn.

❤️ Like to author

danielricciardo: Carlos, you know you always have to encourage the kids. ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: ha ha ha is not that bad

f1love: Charles’ face in the last photo is super cute.

Charlesfan: Perfect for a meme, thanks, Yn.

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Tag list

@barcelonaloverf1life

[wiselyghost]

 🏀 KNB boys react to you challenging them to a 1v1...but you're terrible

🩵 scenario: you challenge your basketball boyfriend to a 1v1 match… unfortunately, you possess the athletic grace of a paper bag in the wind. chaos, love, and secondhand embarrassment follow.

🔗 warnings: crack fic | you're already dating them | fluff + dumbassery | unathletic reader | some light cussing

📎 note: for entertainment purposes only, i fear you would not survive a real game against these freaks. (Guess who's my favorite 🤭)

🐯 Kagami Taiga

He's excited. Way too excited. The minute you challenge him, he's stretching, cracking his neck, spinning the ball on one finger like he's warming up for the NBA Finals. "Don't hold back, alright?" he grins, bouncing on his toes. But he should've known something was off the moment you dribbled it with both hand like a toddler and sprinted full-speed into the pole. "...Wait—are you seriously—" You jump back up with confidence (and a bruised ego), but now he's panicking. "You sure you don't wanna sit down? Mabey some water? First aid???" Still, he humors you. He plays soft at first... until you try to trash talk. "You scared, Taiga?" That's when he dunks so hard the hoop shakes and you swear the earth tilted. "You ASKED for this," he says, out of breath, laughing as you flop to the ground in defeat.

🧢 Aomine Daiki

He grins like the devil when you challenge him. "Aww, how cute. You think you've got a chance?" It takes ten seconds for him to double over laughing. You try to crossover, and instead cross yourself out of bounds. "YOU SAID YOU PLAYED ONCE IN HIGH SCHOOL—" "Yeah! Once! And I quit after i got hit in the face with the ball!" He doesn't even try anymore. He's laying on the floor mid-court as you "Dribble" (Chase the ball like a lost toddler). "Yo, babe—are you... are you trying to do a layup or summon a demon?" Eventually, he lets you score—then immediately scores 20 in a row while smirking. "Oops. My hand slipped~" 💛 Kise Ryouta

"Ehhh~?! You wanna go against me?" He gasps like you just proposed. "You're so bold! So cool! So inspiring!" He hypes you up to the point you believe you're capable of greatness... Then you throw the ball straight into his face. The gasp he lets out is drama-king level. Falls to his knees holding his nose like you just ended his modeling contract. "BABE MY FACE!!! I HAVE SHOOTS NEXT WEEK!!!" You're apologizing and he's whimpering dramatically... until you offer to kiss it better. He perks up immediately. "Okay fine, I forgive you. But you're buying me boba and massaging my ego later~" (You don't even finish the game. He just posts you on his story with “💛 my #1 fan… not my #1 baller lol 💛” )

🧊 Akashi Seijuro

He says nothing at first. Just nods. “As you wish.” You’re barely into your first possession when he pauses. Blinks. Adjusts his stance. “Your form is… unusual.” You’re hunched over. Palming the ball like it’s a melon. Shooting like it’s a dodgeball. “…Have you ever played this sport before?” You lie. “Yes.” He tilts his head. “Interesting. You appear to be actively losing to gravity.” Instead of playing you seriously, he walks over and calmly starts correcting you like a private coach. “Here. Like this.” He adjusts your hands. Moves your feet. His voice is calm but you can feel the judgment in his soul. The game never finishes. He buys you a milk tea and says, “I admire your confidence. Let’s never speak of this again.”

🍬 Murasakibara Atsushi

"Eh... too much work," he groans when you first challenge him. You promise snack if he plays, and now suddenly he's 7 feet of grumpy motivation. "Only 'cause you said there's gummies after." You try to start the match seriously, but the moment you do a sad little dribble that bounces back into your own shin, he squints. "Are you even trying?" he mumbles, standing completely still as you huff and puff past him like a lost puppy. He doesn't even chase you. He just holds the ball over your head like a toddler with candy. You jump. he yawns. "So sloooow~" Eventually, he just scoops you up, grabs the ball, and walks both of you to the hoop. "Atsushi! You can't dunk me—" "Mm. Too late." He gently deposits you into the net like laundry and then turns to you with the most deadpan voice: "I win. Feed me." You ask for a rematch. He lays flat on the floor and says, "Nope. I'm retired."

🎯 Midorima Shintarō

The minute you say "1v1 me," he visibly frowns. "This is a waste of time. You'll hurt yourself." You ignore him. You're full of passion. He's full of regret. And then you start the game... and he's left blinking behind his glasses in pure disbelief. You throw the ball backwards. You run with your in the air like you're doing jazzercise. You yell "KOBE" and miss the backboard entirely. "...What the hell was that?' He says nothing more the next five minutes—just silently adjusts his glasses every time you embarrass yourself anew. But he stays. Watches every tragic attempt. And when it's over, hands you a towel and says, "Your lucky item for today was a sports magazine. Clearly, it didn't work." You laugh. He sighs. And somehow, he still buys you lunch after. (And mutters "idiot" under his breath, but with love.)

📎 don’t repost, translate, or copy my work. reblogs = sweet love 💙 💌 want a custom fic? check my commissions & request info here

[sonarspace]

࣪ ˖⟡ BREAKING POINT (FT. TOJI)

꒰ synopsis. toji’s job was simple: watch, report, and move on but when the lines between his mission and his desires blur, he’s forced to confront a breaking point he never saw coming. content. potentially dark themes. (stalking. mention of death.) nsfw. (cunnilingus) wc. 8k–ish. (oops) an. it’s very late so i’m sorry if certain things don’t make sense. there will be a part two, hopefully soon.

toji never liked simple jobs. the thrill was always in the hunt, in the unpredictability of his targets. but this time? this time felt... different. he’d tracked down his mark to a small, unassuming neighborhood, half-convinced he’d been sent on some kind of wild goose chase. this place wasn’t exactly a breeding ground for threats.

and that’s where you come in.

you’re not what he expected—at all. no training, no hint of power, no connection to the dangerous world he roams. just... you, living your life, completely unaware that a man like him is lurking in the shadows, keeping an eye on you. it’s almost a joke. the ease of it should make him itch to move on, to wrap things up fast. but instead, he finds himself sticking around, watching from a distance as you go about your day.

and damn, you’re making it hard to leave.

there’s something about the way you carry yourself—unconcerned, relaxed, like you know nothing about the danger he could bring into your world. it almost makes him feel... invisible, and that’s a feeling toji hasn’t had in years. the way you look at the world, unguarded, it’s like you don’t know people like him exist. you’re a mystery that’s more enticing than he wants to admit.

then, one night, you catch him.

it’s a fluke, really—a careless mistake on his part. he’s standing in the shadows outside your apartment, watching as you lock up, but tonight you linger, glancing around as if sensing something’s off. and then your gaze lands on him.

“you gonna stand there all night or what?” you ask, your tone half-amused, half-annoyed. it’s bold, like you’re talking to some stray cat on the sidewalk instead of a trained killer.

toji feels a flicker of irritation, mixed with something else he can’t place. usually, people run when they see him, or at the very least, they freeze. but you? you look at him like he’s just another random inconvenience, and that almost pisses him off. almost.

he steps out of the shadows, crossing the distance between you in a few strides, his figure looming over you. “didn’t know you were waiting for an invitation,” he murmurs, voice low, watching as your expression shifts, just a little hint of caution now, mixed with curiosity.

“what, do you follow everyone home?” you challenge, crossing your arms as if you’re unbothered by the proximity. “or am i just that special?”

toji smirks, something dark flashing in his eyes. “depends. maybe i just like the view.”

it’s a cheap line, but it gets the reaction he’s looking for—your eyes narrow, a spark of annoyance flickering across your face. you’re not scared, though, not really. if anything, you look like you’re ready to push back, and that... that’s something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“you’ve got a weird way of complimenting people,” you shoot back, the faintest smirk playing at your lips.

“toji,” he says suddenly, the name rolling off his tongue like it’s an afterthought. “figured it’s only polite to introduce myself.”

your brows lift slightly, but you recover quickly. “well, toji, you’re still creeping around outside my building.”

“and you’re still talking to me,” he counters smoothly, tilting his head just enough to give you the impression he’s sizing you up. “guess that makes us even.”

you narrow your eyes at him, irritation sparking, but it’s laced with a strange flicker of curiosity you can’t quite push down. “you’re weird,” you mutter, your voice losing some of its edge. “you know that, right?”

toji chuckles low, the sound rough but not entirely unkind. “i’ve been called worse,” he says, stepping back, his gaze still locked on you. “don’t stay out too late. wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

you blink at him, caught off guard by the unexpected hint of... concern? but before you can respond, he’s already turning on his heel, his hands shoved into his pockets as he strides off into the dark.

────

over the next week, his presence becomes almost predictable. every evening, when you glance outside, he’s there, leaning against the streetlamp or pacing the sidewalk. it’s unsettling at first, but eventually, you find yourself getting used to it. you even start thinking about how to break the tension. maybe if you offered him something, this strange game would become a little less unnerving.

so you bake cookies—just a simple gesture, something to bridge the gap. but when you head downstairs, holding the small jar of freshly baked cookies in your hands, his usual spot is empty.

you glance around, half-expecting him to emerge from the shadows, but there’s nothing. just the dim streetlight and the quiet hum of the city. for some reason, the absence stings more than you expect. had he moved on? stopped stalking you? the thought should bring relief, but instead, it leaves a pang of disappointment.

────

a week later, you��re walking home from work, the late evening air cool against your skin. it’s a quiet night, uneventful—until you feel the faint prickle of unease. someone is following you. the footsteps behind you are too deliberate, too measured, sending a shiver up your spine.

you quicken your pace, your keys clutched tightly in your hand, your mind racing as you glance over your shoulder. the man trailing you is nondescript, but his intent is clear in the way his gaze locks onto you, unyielding.

just as he closes the distance, a shadow moves faster than you can process. the air shifts, heavy and violent, and before you can even register what’s happening, the man’s feet leave the ground. a dull thud echoes through the night as he crumples to the pavement, his body limp, unmoving.

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes wide as the shadow that felled him takes shape. “toji...” you gasp, the name tumbling from your lips as your gaze darts from him to the man sprawled on the ground. “did you—did you kill him?!”

toji steps forward, brushing his knuckles against his shirt, his expression calm, unbothered. “no,” he mutters, glancing down at the unconscious man.

you stare at the scene, your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. then your eyes lock onto him, and for the first time, you notice the state he’s in—bruises darkening his cheekbone, a shallow cut near his temple. there’s a stiffness in the way he moves, like every step costs him something.

“toji...” you breathe, softer this time, the concern in your voice impossible to hide. your hand twitches at your side, almost reaching for him, but you stop yourself just before you do. “are you okay?”

he tilts his head, his smirk faint, almost weary. “you’re worried about me princess?” he asks, his tone laced with faint amusement.

but your questions spill out before you can stop them, each one tripping over the next. “what happened to you? where were you all this time? who is that guy? why was he—”

toji’s hands come up, his fingers gripping your arms gently but firmly, grounding you. “breathe,” he says, his voice low but steady, his gaze holding yours. “just... breathe.”

you blink up at him, startled into silence, your chest still heaving as you try to process everything at once. his touch is warm, solid, a tether pulling you back from the edge of your spiraling thoughts.

“i’ll tell you everything,” he murmurs, his grip loosening slightly, though his hands stay on you. “but first, you need to calm down.”

you swallow hard, nodding, your breaths coming slower now, though the weight of the moment still presses heavy against your chest. toji’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he steps back, his expression softening ever so slightly.

toji’s hands fall from your arms, but his gaze doesn’t waver. there’s something steady, almost unshakable, in the way he looks at you, like he’s already made up his mind about what comes next.

“i need you to trust me,” he says, his voice low but firm, the weight of his words settling between you.

you blink, your breath catching for a moment. “trust you?” you repeat, incredulous, your eyes darting between him and the man still unconscious on the ground. “toji, i don’t even know you.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “you don’t have to,” he mutters, his tone lighter but edged with something darker, something urgent. “just please, trust that i know what i’m doing.”

“why?” you ask softly, your voice trembling.

toji’s gaze lingers on the man sprawled on the ground, his expression grim, tension radiating from his frame. when he looks back at you, there’s no trace of humor left in his eyes.

“because this man was here to kill you,” he says flatly, his voice low and heavy, the weight of the words sinking into your chest like stones.

your breath catches, your mind scrambling to keep up. “kill me?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. “how do you even know that? who are you?”

he exhales, dragging a hand down his face, his knuckles brushing against the fresh bruise on his jaw. “just—please,” he mutters, his voice thick with frustration, “let me take you somewhere safe. i’ll explain everything, but not here.”

you shake your head, your arms crossing tightly over your chest, as if that alone can keep him from pulling you into his orbit. “my apartment is safe,” you insist, your voice steadier than you feel. “we can go there. but i’m not going anywhere else.”

toji groans softly, muttering something under his breath, his jaw tightening. “no, you’re not safe here,” he argues, his tone sharper now. “people are coming. more of them.”

your stomach flips at his words, dread curling in your gut. “who’s coming?” you demand, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

he doesn’t answer right away, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. finally, he shakes his head, his voice softer now but no less urgent. “please,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours, his voice dipping into something almost pleading. “just—”

“no,” you cut him off, your tone final. “if you want to talk, we’re doing it in my apartment. i’m not going anywhere.”

toji lets out a sharp exhale, his shoulders slumping slightly as he stares at you, clearly debating his next move. after a moment, he relents, jerking his head toward your building. “fine,” he mutters.

inside, your apartment is warm and inviting, a cozy little sanctuary from the chaos outside. the faint scent of vanilla lingers in the air, mingling with the soft glow of a small lamp on your end table. the space is lived-in, filled with personal touches—books scattered across the coffee table and a throw blanket draped over the back of the couch.

toji steps in, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room, taking in every detail. his expression softens briefly, the faintest flicker of something almost fond crossing his face. “cute place,” he mutters, the words gruff but genuine.

before you can respond, a tiny, black-and-white blur darts across the room, a soft, rumbling purr filling the air as a fluffy cat weaves around toji’s legs. its bright green eyes gleam mischievously as it nudges against his boots, its tail flicking with casual arrogance.

toji tenses, jerking his foot back like he’s just stepped on something dangerous. “what the—?”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you as you kneel to scoop the cat into your arms, its purring growing louder as it nuzzles into your neck. “oh, ninja, meet toji. toji, this is ninja,” you say, grinning up at him as you scratch behind the cat’s ears.

“ninja,” he repeats flatly, glaring at the tiny creature like it’s somehow offended him. “you named it ninja.”

“he’s stealthy,” you reply with a shrug, holding the cat up to face him. ninja blinks lazily at toji, his green eyes half-lidded as if bored by the entire exchange.

toji sighs, muttering something under his breath about “useless little nuisances,” but he doesn’t move, watching as you set ninja down. the cat trots off, tail high, completely unbothered by the towering man now occupying his space.

toji exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “we don’t have much time,” he says, his tone sharpening as his gaze snaps back to you. “we need to go.”

but you plant your feet, crossing your arms over your chest, your expression firm. “not until you tell me what’s going on,” you say. “from the beginning.”

he groans, his head tipping back briefly before he looks at you again, his jaw tight. “this isn’t the time for a story,” he mutters. “you want answers, fine. but we need to move.”

“i’m not going anywhere until you explain,” you reply, your voice steady. “start talking, toji.”

toji groans, pinching the bridge of his nose before leveling you with a steady, unreadable gaze. “fine. you want to know what’s going on? here it is,” he says, his voice low and measured, like he’s choosing every word carefully. “i was assigned to gather intel on you. you’ve been classified as a threat.”

“a threat?” you repeat, your brows furrowing in disbelief. “me? why?”

“because of your father,” he replies, his tone clipped. “he was involved in some... shady business.”

you take a step back, your pulse quickening. “my parents are dead,” you say, your voice trembling, the words scraping against your throat. “they died in a car accident years ago.”

“i know that,” toji says, his voice softening just enough to make the tension in the room feel heavier. “but how do you think they died?”

the question hits like a hammer to your chest, the room tilting slightly as his words sink in. “you’re saying...” you trail off, your voice barely above a whisper. your thoughts race, piecing together fragments of a past you’d never questioned. “their car crash wasn’t an accident?” your stomach churns as the realization dawns on you, sharp and cruel.

toji doesn’t answer immediately, but the look in his eyes is enough to confirm it. you feel frozen, your legs unsteady beneath you, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

“breathe,” toji says softly, stepping closer. “look, i know it’s a lot. but we don’t have time to unpack all of this right now.” his voice is firm but not unkind, his gaze steady as he watches you struggle to process everything. “i need to get you out of here before they come.”

he turns toward the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to peer outside. his shoulders tense, his jaw tightening as he spots something in the distance. “shit,” he mutters under his breath. “they’re already here.”

“who’s here?” you ask, your voice barely steady.

“people who won’t hesitate to finish what they started with your parents,” he replies grimly. “we need to leave. now.”

you hesitate, your hands trembling as you clutch the back of a chair for support. “i can’t leave ninja,” you say, your voice breaking slightly.

toji glances at you, his expression hard, but then he sighs. “fine. bring the damn cat,” he mutters. “but grab your essentials. only what you need.”

you nod, swallowing hard as you rush to your bedroom. ninja’s carrier sits by the door, and you quickly scoop him up, his soft purring a faint comfort against the chaos unraveling around you. you throw a few shirts and pants into a small bag, along with your phone charger, some cat snacks, and ninja’s favorite toy. your hands tremble as you zip it shut, your mind spinning with questions you don’t have time to ask.

toji meets you at the door, grabbing the bag from your hands with ease. “stay close to me,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. you clutch ninja’s carrier tightly, nodding as he leads you toward the stairs instead of the elevator.

he pulls out his phone as you descend, speaking in a low voice. “gojo,” he mutters, his tone urgent. “send backup. now.”

you can’t hear the response on the other end, but the name lingers in your mind. gojo. another question for later.

toji suddenly halts, his body tense as he peers through the narrow window on the stairwell door. you follow his gaze, your heart stopping as you see men entering your floor, their movements calculated, their intentions clear.

he turns to you, his hand firm on your shoulder. “stay quiet. stay behind me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

you watch as the men fan out on your floor, their presence clearing the stairwell for now. toji gestures sharply, and you follow him as he moves quickly, leading you downward again. your heart pounds in your chest, every creak of the stairs feeling impossibly loud.

you reach the basement parking lot, the space eerily quiet except for a single man stationed near the exit. toji moves like a shadow, closing the distance before the man can react. one quick strike, and the guard crumples to the ground, unconscious.

“come on,” toji urges, his voice low as he glances back at you. you hurry after him, clutching ninja’s carrier as your legs shake beneath you.

a sleek car pulls up, its headlights cutting through the dimness of the garage. the driver’s side window rolls down, revealing a man with dark hair tied into two buns and faint dark circles under his eyes. he peers at you briefly before addressing toji. “you’re late.”

“shut up, choso,” toji mutters, opening the back door and motioning for you to get in. you slide into the back seat, holding ninja close as the carrier shifts in your lap. toji closes the door behind you before sliding into the passenger seat. “drive.”

choso doesn’t hesitate, pulling out of the parking lot with practiced ease, the car gliding into the quiet streets. the tension in the air is thick, but no one speaks. the black cars you feared never materialize behind you, the route clear as choso expertly navigates the city streets, heading toward the outskirts.

you sit silently in the back seat, your arms wrapped protectively around ninja’s carrier, your eyes fixed on the shifting shadows outside. your mind races, replaying toji’s words over and over. their car crash wasn’t an accident. the weight of it settles heavily in your chest, your breath shallow as you try to process what it all means.

toji glances at you through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t press. he knows this is a lot to take in—too much, even—but he also knows there’s no way to soften the truth.

the car slows as they pull into a small gas station, the bright fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across the cracked pavement. choso cuts the engine, nodding toward a second car parked discreetly in the lot. “switching vehicles,” he says simply, already getting out.

toji turns in his seat, his gaze landing on you. “you need anything?” he asks, his voice low but steady.

you shake your head, your grip tightening slightly on ninja’s carrier. “no,” you murmur, your voice quiet, barely audible.

he watches you for a moment longer before stepping out of the car. you don’t move, your thoughts still tangled and heavy, the soft rumble of ninja’s purring the only thing grounding you.

when toji returns, he opens the back door and hands you a cold bottle of water and a small pack of citrus-flavored candy. your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you take the items, your gaze darting up to meet his. “how did you—” you start, but then it hits you. he’s been watching me. the thought stings, a strange mix of discomfort and something else you can’t quite name.

toji leans against the doorframe, his smirk faint but noticeable. “figured you’d need something,” he says simply, not offering more than that.

you exhale softly, your fingers brushing over the pack before tucking it away. “thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t mention it,” he replies, stepping back to let you out of the car.

the three of you transfer into the second vehicle, ninja settling in your lap once more as you strap in. the silence follows you as the new car pulls onto the highway, the city lights fading behind you, replaced by the sprawling emptiness of the outskirts. it feels surreal, like the ground beneath your life has shifted, leaving you grasping for something solid.

────

the car pulls off the main road onto a narrow dirt path, winding through dense trees until a modest house comes into view. the structure is secluded, its exterior unassuming, the kind of place that could disappear into the background without much effort.

as the car rolls to a stop, the front door swings open, and a man with white hair steps out. he’s tall, his posture relaxed, and there’s a boyish grin on his face as he approaches, completely unfazed by the tension hanging in the air.

“welcome, welcome,” he says brightly, pulling open the back door before you can even unbuckle. his eyes immediately land on ninja’s carrier, and his grin widens. “and who’s this little guy?”

you blink, caught off guard as he leans down, cooing softly at the cat. “hey there, buddy,” he murmurs, lifting the carrier carefully from your lap. ninja lets out a soft meow, pressing his nose against the mesh, and the man chuckles. “oh, i like him already.”

“give it a rest, gojo,” toji mutters as he rounds the car, his tone laced with faint irritation. “you’re here to help, not adopt a cat.”

“who says i can’t do both?” gojo replies, turning to you with an easy smile. “satoru gojo,” he says, holding the carrier with one hand as he offers the other to you. “pleasure to meet you.”

you hesitate for a moment before shaking his hand, your grip tentative. “uh... thanks,” you manage, your voice soft.

toji falls into step beside you, his presence a steadying weight as gojo leads you toward the house. the air feels heavier as you step inside, your eyes immediately drawn to the two figures waiting in the living room.

the first is a tall woman with blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail, her arms crossed as she leans casually against the back of a worn-out couch. her gaze shifts to choso as he enters behind you, and a slow, easy smile spreads across her face.

“took you long enough,” she says, her tone teasing.

“had to pick up stragglers,” choso replies, his voice softer now as he steps forward and kisses her, his hand resting lightly on her waist. she leans into him with an ease that makes you feel like you’re intruding on something private.

you shift on your feet awkwardly, but before you can decide where to look, the woman turns her attention to you, her smile softening. “you must be exhausted,” she says gently, her tone warm and disarming. she steps forward, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “yuki tsukumo,” she introduces herself. “don’t let the boys intimidate you. they mean well. mostly.”

her kindness catches you off guard, and you manage a small, hesitant smile. “thank you,” you murmur.

toji’s voice cuts through the moment, his tone gruff. “don’t let her fool you,” he says, motioning toward yuki with a slight tilt of his head. “she’s dangerous.”

“only to people who deserve it,” yuki replies, her grin returning, her tone light but edged with a quiet confidence that makes you believe her.

beside her stands another figure, a man with long black hair pulled back into a neat bun. his features are sharp but composed, his expression calm as he steps forward, offering you a polite smile.

“suguru geto,” toji says, motioning toward him. “don’t let the nice guy act fool you.”

“ignore him,” suguru says, his tone carrying the faintest trace of humor. “he likes to pretend he’s the only one you can trust.” his eyes soften as they meet yours. “it’s nice to meet you. i know this must all feel... overwhelming.”

you nod wordlessly, still clutching ninja’s toy in your hand, your mind struggling to process everything. suguru’s voice is calm, measured, and there’s something about the way he speaks that makes you feel just a little more grounded.

meanwhile, gojo sets ninja’s carrier down, popping the door open to let the cat stretch out onto the floor. ninja lets out a soft meow before trotting over to inspect the room, his tail high and proud.

“so,” gojo says, straightening up and clapping his hands together. “what’s the plan? because i’m assuming you didn’t bring her here just for the company.”

toji sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you. “the plan,” he says slowly, “is to keep her alive.”

────

“come on,” yuki says, her tone gentle as she motions for you to follow her. “i’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

yuki leads you down a narrow hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking faintly underfoot. the house is surprisingly clean and cozy inside—nothing like its rugged exterior. the walls are painted a warm beige, and small touches, like neatly arranged bookshelves give the space an unexpected charm.

yuki stops in front of a door, pushing it open to reveal a small, simple room. “here you go,” she says, stepping aside to let you in.

the room is bland but functional. a bed sits in the center, flanked by two plain side tables. there’s a narrow windowsill with a view of the surrounding trees, and the soft yellow glow of a table lamp casts a warm light over the otherwise bare space. it’s not much, but something about it feels oddly grounding—like a blank slate.

you set ninja’s carrier down and open the door. he stretches his little body out, his back arching and his paws spreading wide, before he begins mapping the space with his usual confidence, tail flicking as he investigates every corner.

“he’s cute,” yuki says with a soft smile, leaning against the doorframe. “you okay?”

the question hangs heavy in the air. she knows the answer before you say anything—it’s written all over your face. still, you appreciate the softness in her tone, the way she gives you space to process everything.

“it gets better,” she says quietly, her smile small but reassuring. “i promise. we’ll keep you safe.”

her words settle over you like a blanket—not enough to erase the weight in your chest, but enough to remind you that you’re not alone. she straightens, stepping back into the hallway. “take your time settling in,” she adds. “oh, and just a heads-up—there are only two bathrooms, and neither of them lock. so if you’re using one, just stick a towel under the door. it’s an unspoken rule for when we stay here.”

“got it,” you reply, managing a faint smile.

she nods once before disappearing down the hall, leaving you alone with ninja, who’s now perched on the bed, lazily cleaning his paw. you glance around the room again, sighing as you take it in. it’s bare, unremarkable—but maybe, just maybe, you could see yourself living here.

you grab a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt from your bag and step out of the room. the hallway is quiet as you make your way to the bathroom, pushing the door open. it’s clean, the tiles worn but scrubbed spotless, and the mirror above the sink reflects the exhaustion etched into your face.

remembering yuki’s advice, you grab a towel from the rack and slide it under the door, pressing it into place with your foot.

the warm water feels like a balm against your skin, washing away the grime and tension of the day. for a brief moment, you let yourself relax, closing your eyes and letting the steam envelop you. but then the weight of everything crashes back down—the truth about your parents, the sudden upheaval of your life, the danger still lurking somewhere outside the walls of this house.

after a while, you turn off the water, wiping your face with trembling hands before stepping out. you change quickly, pulling on the sweatpants and shirt, the soft fabric a small comfort against your damp skin. you gather your things, pulling the towel from beneath the door as you prepare to head back to your room.

“shit!” you yelp, your heart leaping into your throat as you clutch your chest. “what the hell—”

“sorry,” he murmurs, holding up a hand. “didn’t mean to scare you.”

you stare at him, your pulse still racing as you take in his expression. his voice is quieter than usual, the sharpness dulled, and there’s something in his gaze—concern, maybe, or something close to it.

toji watches you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. “you okay?” he asks, his voice low but steady.

you hesitate, your hands tightening around the clothes you’re holding. “yeah,” you murmur, though the word feels hollow. “i’m fine.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t press. instead, he gestures down the hallway. “come on. let’s talk,” he says, stepping aside and waiting for you to follow.

you trail after him, the quiet creak of the floorboards the only sound between you as he walks you back to your room. ninja is curled up on the bed when you enter, his tail twitching lazily as he stretches out, completely undisturbed by the tension hanging in the air. toji closes the door behind him, leaning against it as you sit on the edge of the bed, clutching the fabric of your sweatpants for something to ground you.

“i owe you an explanation,” toji begins, crossing his arms over his chest. his voice is even, but there’s a weight to it, like he’s been carrying this for a while. “about what’s going on. and about me.”

you nod silently, your gaze locked on him as you wait for him to continue.

“my crew, we’re... mercenaries, more or less. we take jobs—tracking people, running interference, whatever the client needs. and our clients? not the kind of people you’d ever want to meet.”

you stay quiet, your heart beating faster as you wait for him to continue.

“there are two big players we work for—naoya zen’in and ryomen sukuna,” he explains, his tone matter-of-fact. “naoya’s got power, connections, influence. he thinks that makes him untouchable. sukuna? he’s just pure strength. nobody crosses him and lives to tell about it.”

you can’t help the question that slips out. “so... who do you work for?”

“both,” toji replies with a slight shrug, as if it’s no big deal. “it’s a balancing act. naoya’s got more reach, but sukuna’s stronger. we take jobs from both of them, depending on what’s on the table.”

“and me?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly. “how do i fit into this?”

toji’s jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, as if weighing his words. “naoya gave me your file,” he says finally. “he wanted you followed. didn’t say why—just that he’d pay well.”

your chest tightens, the reality of his admission hitting you like a blow. “that's why you were... stalking me,” you say, trying to keep up.

“yeah,” toji replies bluntly, his tone unwavering. “but here’s the thing—i told sukuna about the job. figured he’d want to know what naoya was up to.”

“and what did he say?” you ask, your pulse quickening, the pieces of this twisted puzzle refusing to fall into place.

“he told me to keep it up,” toji says, his voice quieter now. “but not for naoya’s sake. for yours.”

you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “for me? why would he care about me?”

toji exhales, dragging a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders tense. “that’s the part i don’t know,” he admits, his gaze flicking back to you. “but sukuna doesn’t do things without a reason. if he wanted me to keep you safe, there’s a reason for it. so that’s what i did.”

your hands grip the edge of the bed, your thoughts racing. “and naoya?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “what does he want with me?”

“we’re not sure about that yet,” toji admits, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “we’re trying to figure it out. but whatever it is...” he pauses, stepping closer. “you’re safe,” he whispers, the words carrying a weight you didn’t realize you needed to hear.

his eyes soften as he crouches in front of you, his movements careful. when he notices the tears slipping down your cheeks, he reaches out, his thumb brushing gently against your skin to wipe a stray tear. “i won’t let anything happen to you,” he vows softly.

ninja pads over, his little paws silent against the bed as he hops up, settling into your lap. his warm weight presses against you, his soft purring vibrating through your legs, as if he can sense your spiraling emotions and wants to anchor you in his own quiet way. you stroke his fur absently, your fingers trembling slightly as you try to process everything.

toji watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then he tips your chin up with a finger, his touch firm but gentle, forcing you to meet his gaze. “i mean it,” he says, his voice low, insistent. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

his words settle over you, and for the first time in what feels like hours, your breathing evens out. the faintest flicker of something close to relief creeps in, though the fear and uncertainty linger.

before you can respond, toji leans in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. the gesture is brief, almost hesitant, but it sends a warmth through your chest that you can’t explain.

“get some rest,” he murmurs, pulling back slightly. “we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

you nod silently, your grip on ninja tightening as the door clicks softly behind him. the weight of the day still presses on you, lingering like an invisible force bearing down on your chest. you slump back on the bed with a heavy sigh, your head sinking into the pillow as the tension slowly drains from your body.

ninja curls up beside you, his small body warm and steady against your side, his soft purring filling the quiet room. you stroke his fur absentmindedly, your thoughts a tangled mess of confusion, fear, and exhaustion.

the room feels both too small and too vast, the events of the day replaying in your mind like a loop you can’t shut off. the truth about your parents, the danger lurking just outside this house, and toji’s quiet promise—it all feels too big, too overwhelming to process.

but then you think of his words, the way his voice softened, the steady conviction in his gaze as he said, i won’t let anything happen to you. and for a moment—just a moment—you allow yourself to believe him.

ninja shifts slightly, nudging his head against your hand, and you sigh, closing your eyes. 

────

it’s been two weeks since your world turned upside down. two weeks of secrets, half-truths, and trying to convince yourself you’re safe in a house full of strangers who know more about your life than you do.

you’d emailed your boss a vague explanation—an “unforeseen emergency” that would keep you away for an indefinite period. they’d been understanding enough, though your phone buzzed with missed calls from coworkers curious about what happened. but it wasn’t until your best friend’s name lit up your screen that you faltered.

you’re curled up in the corner of the couch, staring at your phone as it buzzes with your best friend’s name flashing across the screen. you hesitate, your thumb hovering over the answer button. toji is seated nearby, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as he watches you with that unreadable expression.

“you need to keep where you are to yourself,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “don’t tell anyone anything.”

you exhale softly, nodding as you press the green button and lift the phone to your ear. “hey.”

“oh my god, finally!” your friend’s voice bursts through the line, light and frantic all at once. “do you know how worried i’ve been? you just dropped off the face of the earth!”

you glance at toji, his gaze unwavering, a silent reminder. “i’m fine,” you say, forcing your voice to stay steady. “i’ve just been... out of town. for work.”

“work? since when do you travel for work? where are you?” she asks, her tone sharp with concern.

“it’s nothing exciting,” you reply quickly, your words tumbling over each other as you try to sound nonchalant. “just some last-minute project they needed me on. i’ll be busy for a while—probably won’t have much time to talk.”

there’s a pause, the silence on the other end stretching long enough to make your stomach twist. “are you sure you’re okay?” she finally asks, her voice softer now. “you sound... off.”

you glance at toji again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilts his head. “i’m okay,” you lie, your fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. “just stressed, you know? new place, new schedule. it’s a lot to adjust to.”

she sighs, the sound laced with doubt. “okay, fine. but promise me you’ll call if you need anything. i don’t care how busy you are.”

“i promise,” you say, the guilt clawing at your chest. “i’ll call when i can.”

when the call ends, you set your phone down on the table, staring at it as if it might ring again. toji doesn’t say anything at first, his expression unreadable as he pushes off the counter and approaches you.

“that wasn’t easy, was it?” he murmurs, his tone softer now, almost like he’s trying to offer reassurance.

you shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “no,” you admit quietly. “it wasn’t.”

toji sighs, running a hand through his hair before sitting down across from you. “i know it feels wrong. but you did the right thing,” he says, his voice steady, firm. “keeping her out of this? it’s for her safety too.”

you nod, though the words do little to ease the ache in your chest. you pick up your phone again, staring at the lock screen like it holds the answers to questions you can’t even form.

“you’re not alone, you know,” toji adds, his voice breaking the silence. “even if it feels that way.”

you glance at him, his gaze meeting yours for just a moment before he stands, walking back to the kitchen. his words linger long after he’s gone, a small comfort against the growing weight of isolation.

────

you stood in front of the mirror in your room, adjusting the borrowed crop top yuki had tossed your way earlier in the week. it fit snugly, the hem brushing just above your waistline. the sweatpants hung loosely on your hips, comfortable but far from modest. you felt... exposed.

maybe it was the heat building in your chest—the restless energy that had been simmering all day—or maybe it was the way you’d caught yourself stealing glances at toji earlier during dinner, your thoughts wandering to the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his muscles flexed when he moved.

you shook the thoughts away, grabbing a water bottle and heading downstairs to the makeshift gym in the basement.

toji was already there, his back to you as he adjusted the straps on a punching bag. his black tank clung to his broad shoulders, the curve of his biceps catching your attention before you tore your gaze away.

he turned, his expression neutral before a faint smirk curved his lips. “you’re early,” he said, his voice low.

“let’s just get this over with,” you muttered, stepping onto the mat and stretching your arms, pretending not to notice the way his eyes lingered.

the session started like any other—jabs, kicks, counter-movements—but tonight, there was an edge to your strikes, a force that wasn’t usually there. toji caught on quickly, his movements fluid as he blocked each attempt, his brow furrowing slightly.

“you’re tense,” he said, stepping back and holding up a hand to pause.

“i’m fine,” you huffed, brushing a strand of hair from your face and resetting your stance.

“no, you’re not,” he countered, his voice steady but probing. “what’s going on?”

you didn’t answer, instead lunging forward with a punch he caught easily, his grip firm around your wrist. he twisted, flipping you onto your back with a controlled motion that left you breathless.

you gasped as your back hit the mat, your pulse quickening as he pinned you down. one hand pressed your wrist to the floor above your head, while the other braced against your hip, holding you in place.

“talk to me,” he said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “what’s wrong?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. all you could focus on was the heat radiating from his body, the way his hips pressed against yours, the weight of him holding you down.

“nothing,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

toji’s gaze searched yours, his green eyes darkening as they flicked down to your parted lips, then back up. “you sure about that?” he murmured, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly, but not enough to let you go.

your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as the tension between you crackled like a live wire. you felt his thumb brush against your hip, the movement so slight you almost thought you imagined it.

“toji...” you breathed, your voice barely audible, your body instinctively arching just slightly beneath him.

he didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact, his jaw tightening as he seemed to wrestle with himself. “you’re not focused,” he said finally, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “what’s got you so distracted?”

“you,” the word slipped out before you could stop it, the confession hanging in the charged air between you.

toji stilled, his expression unreadable as the tension in the room reached its breaking point.

his grip on your wrist tightened, but his other hand moved, brushing against your waist, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of your sweatpants. his thumb tracing an absentminded circle that sent sparks shooting up your spine.

“me?” he murmured, his voice low, like he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard you right.

you nodded, the motion barely perceptible, your lips parting as you tried to catch your breath.

he huffed out a low laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching as if supressing a mirk. “you’ve been all worked up over me, huh?”

you squirmed under his gaze, the heat rising to your cheeks making it impossible to deny. “just—don’t make this a big deal,” you muttered, turning your head away.

but toji wasn’t about to let you off that easy. his hand slid down, resting lightly on your hip, his touch warm and deliberate. “you sure about this?” he murmured, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge replaced with something softer, more serious. “i’m not doing anything unless you want it.”

your breath hitched, your body betraying you as your hips shifted under his touch. “i want it,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm.

his smirk returned, slow and deliberate. “good.”

toji’s hand moved lower, brushing over the waistband of your sweatpants. “these,” he muttered, his tone dipping into something almost amused as his fingers hooked under the elastic, “are covering way too much of you.”

your breath hitched, the rasp in his voice sending a shiver through you. “they’re just sweatpants,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way his fingers toyed with the fabric had you faltering.

“just sweatpants,” toji muttered again, shaking his head as his fingers hooked under the waistband. “covering so much of you…” his smirk widened, dark and teasing. “nah, princess. these things have been pissing me off all night. hiding all this from me.”

he tugged them down slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric drag against your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. his dark eyes followed every inch he revealed, his gaze growing hungrier as the sweatpants pooled at your ankles. “knew it’d be worth the wait,” he muttered, his voice low, rough.

you squirmed under the intensity of his stare, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin. toji’s hands returned to your hips, warm and firm, his thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“you’re so damn shy all of a sudden,” he teased, his voice dipping into that low rasp that made heat pool in your stomach. “you’ve been fighting me all night, and now you’ve got nothing to say?”

“toji,” you breathed, your voice barely steady, your hands gripping the mat beneath you as his hands trailed higher.

“what?” he murmured, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “just trying to help, princess. you said you needed this, didn’t you?”

before you could answer, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “then let me make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice low, deliberate, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

his fingers slid lower, hooking beneath the edge of your panties. he paused, just for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, giving you the chance to stop him. when you didn’t, he smirked, tugging them down with the same maddening slowness, exposing you completely. his eyes darkened as he tossed the fabric aside, and the air between you seemed to grow heavier.

“fuck,” he muttered, his hands gliding over your thighs, parting them as he settled between them. “look at you.” his voice was low, rough, filled with something that made your pulse race.

he didn’t hesitate, his fingers brushing over your folds, gathering the slick there as he let out a low, appreciative groan. “so wet already,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “you’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?”

your cheeks burned, and you turned your head, trying to hide the heat rising to your face. but toji wasn’t having it. his free hand caught your chin, tilting your face back toward him, his grip firm but gentle.

“nah, princess,” he said, his voice quiet but commanding. “i want to see that pretty face when you come.”

his fingers moved again, teasing over your clit in slow, deliberate circles. the light, teasing touch sent sparks shooting through you, your hips shifting involuntarily beneath him. “toji,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you tried to stay grounded.

“yeah?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched you squirm under his touch. “what do you need, princess? tell me.”

“don’t stop,” you breathed, your voice catching as his movements grew firmer, more insistent.

“wasn’t planning on it,” he murmured, lowering his head. his tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate circle over your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you. your back arched off the mat, a soft cry spilling from your lips as he settled into a rhythm, his tongue and fingers working in perfect tandem.

he groaned softly against you, the sound vibrating through your core as he slid a finger inside, the stretch making your breath hitch. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. “so tight, princess. you’ve been needing this for a while, haven’t you?”

you couldn’t respond, your voice caught in your throat as he added another finger, curling them just right, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. his pace was unrelenting, his fingers moving in steady, deliberate thrusts while his tongue worked your clit with maddening precision.

“toji—” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as your thighs trembled against his shoulders.

he hummed against you, his tongue pressing flat against your clit before flicking up again. “that’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark and rough. “let go for me. i want to feel it.”

his words sent you spiraling, your body arching as the tension in your core snapped, waves of pleasure crashing over you. you cried out, your voice breaking as your fingers tightened in his hair, holding him against you as you rode out the high.

toji didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers moving slowly now, coaxing every last aftershock from your trembling body. when he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, his chin glistening as he looked up at you, his expression smug and satisfied.

“sweet as hell,” he muttered, his voice rough as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with deliberate slowness. his dark eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them making your cheeks burn.

toji finally eased back, his lips glistening and swollen, his smirk impossibly smug as he looked down at you. your chest was still rising and falling with the aftermath of your release, your limbs heavy, your thoughts a jumbled mess.

“feel better now?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.

you nodded weakly, your voice too shaky to respond. his smirk widened, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before pulling back, his hand resting lightly on your thigh.

he reached to the side, grabbing a few tissues from the small box nearby. “hold still,” he murmured, his voice softer now as he gently wiped you clean, his touch uncharacteristically tender. the contrast to his earlier intensity made your cheeks flush all over again.

he reached for your sweatpants. his hands slid them back up your legs with care. his thumbs smoothed over your hips as he adjusted the waistband, his gaze flickering up to meet yours.

“there,” he said, his voice low and almost fond. “back to being all covered up.”

but then his hand slipped to the side, grabbing your discarded underwear from the mat. he balled the fabric up in his hand, slipping it into his pocket without hesitation.

“toji,” you said, sitting up slightly, your voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “my underwear?”

he grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before standing. “i’ll give it back… maybe,” he said, his smirk widening as he glanced back over his shoulder.

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, glaring at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed the way your heart raced at his audacity.

“you like it,” he called over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. “next training session, sweet girl. don’t be late.”

an. peep the nickname change after he got a taste of that thing.. mhm. what a good man.

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[sleepberries]

Pirate AU: Pirate captain Jason (known as Red Hood) and merman Peter (but with tentacles instead of a tail)

I think it would be a very interesting concept ♡

okay so . disclaimer i actually wrote this a couple days ago but forgot to post it (oops?) hope you enjoy !!

the captain and the curse (1.6k, teenish?)

Captain Jason Todd had made many questionable decisions in his thirty-odd years of life, but pulling that gods-damned trident from the ocean floor had to rank in the top three. Right behind "let's rob the Spanish treasure fleet" and "surely this tavern bed won't give me the pox."

The cursed thing had been sitting pretty on the sea floor, all coral-crusted and mysterious, practically begging to be claimed. Of course, the moment Jason's greedy fingers closed around it, up popped Peter—part man, part octopus, all attitude—demanding his "property" back. Apparently the trident was some kind of mystical anchor keeping Peter tethered to the mortal realm, and now that Jason had touched it, congratulations, he was the new anchor point.

Three weeks. Three weeks of having Peter—beautiful, infuriating, tentacled Peter—magically bound to his ship like the world's most attractive barnacle, and Jason was beginning to suspect the sea creature was going to drive him completely mad. Not the murderous kind of mad he was used to, but the kind that involved waking up hard as a mast every morning because his dreams were full of writhing tentacles and that insufferable smirk.

"Captain," Peter's voice drifted down from the crow's nest, sweet as honey and twice as dangerous, "are you brooding again? Because your face is doing that thing where you look like you're contemplating keelhauling someone."

Jason didn't look up from his charts. He'd learned that looking at Peter was a mistake—the bastard had taken to lounging in the rigging wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants that barely contained his eight writhing appendages, and Jason's self-control was already hanging by a thread.

"I'm working," Jason growled.

"Mm-hmm." There was a wet sound—Peter dropping to the deck with that unnatural grace of his. "Working on what, exactly? How to sail in circles? Because that's what we've been doing for the past hour."

Jason's jaw clenched. "We're avoiding the British patrol that's been hunting us since Port Royal."

"Oh, that little frigate?" Peter's laugh was like wind chimes in a hurricane—beautiful and completely inappropriate. "I sank her this morning. Well, not sank exactly. More like... gently encouraged her to develop a massive leak. The crew's probably halfway to shore by now."

"You did what?" Jason finally looked up, and immediately regretted it. Peter was perched on the rail, tentacles coiled around the rigging for balance, and droplets of seawater were sliding down his chest in ways that should be illegal.

"You're welcome," Peter said, batting his eyelashes. "Though I do expect proper gratitude. I was thinking a nice dinner, maybe some wine, followed by—"

"Followed by you going back to whatever hellish depths spawned you," Jason interrupted, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

Peter's grin widened, showing teeth that were just a little too sharp. "Now, now, Captain. Is that any way to talk to your ship's guardian? Besides, we both know you pulled that trident up on purpose."

"I did not—"

"Oh, please." Peter flowed down from the rail, tentacles moving with hypnotic grace as he approached. "You saw something shiny in the water and thought 'what's the worst that could happen?' And then you got me." He stopped just close enough that Jason could smell the salt and sea-spray on his skin. "Lucky you."

Jason's fingers tightened on his cutlass hilt. "The worst part is, you're enjoying this."

"Guilty as charged." One of Peter's tentacles—the particularly bold one that Jason had mentally dubbed 'the troublemaker'—curled around Jason's wrist. "You're much more interesting than my last anchor. He was a Spanish conquistador. Dreadfully boring. All 'glory to God' and 'death to heretics.' No sense of humor whatsoever."

"What happened to him?"

"Kraken ate him." Peter's expression was perfectly innocent. "Tragic, really. I was heartbroken for at least a week."

Jason stared at him. "You fed him to a kraken."

"I may have mentioned to my friend Matthew that there was a particularly annoying human bothering me." Peter's tentacles writhed in what Jason was learning to recognize as laughter. "Matt has such a temper. But don't worry, darling—you're far too entertaining to feed to sea monsters. Probably."

"Probably?"

"Well, that depends on how well you treat me." Peter examined his nails with affected disinterest. "I do require a certain standard of care, you know. Fine food, comfortable accommodations, stimulating conversation..."

"You eat raw fish and sleep in the rigging."

"By choice, not necessity." Peter's grin was sharp. "Though I must say, your hammock does look rather cozy. Big enough for two, even. Especially if one of those two happens to be very... flexible."

Jason felt heat creep up his neck. "You're incorrigible."

"I'm charming. There's a difference." Peter's tentacle tightened around Jason's wrist, thumb stroking over his pulse point. "Tell me, Captain, what exactly did you think would happen when you grabbed a mysterious magical artifact? Did you expect a nice, boring curse? Maybe some bad luck with the wind?"

"I expected treasure," Jason muttered.

"Oh, you got treasure." Peter's voice dropped to that dangerous purr. "Just not the kind you can spend in port. Though I'm infinitely more valuable than gold, wouldn't you say?"

"That remains to be seen."

"Ouch." Peter pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "And here I've been nothing but helpful. Sinking your enemies, controlling the weather, providing delightful company..."

"You mean being a constant distraction."

"The best kind of distraction." Peter leaned against the rail, tentacles spread in a way that should be obscene but somehow looked natural. "Face it, Captain—your life was terribly dull before I arrived. When was the last time you had a real challenge?"

"I'm wanted by three different navies."

"Boring." Peter waved a dismissive hand. "Any halfway competent pirate can anger the authorities. But how many can say they've charmed a creature of the deep? How many have earned the loyalty of someone who could sink their ship with a thought?"

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a flirtation, you dense man." Peter's laugh was like silver bells in a storm. "Though I do love how your jaw twitches when you're trying not to be attracted to me. Very telling."

Jason's control was hanging by a thread. "You're insufferable."

"I'm irresistible. Again, there's a difference." Peter's tentacles were moving now, one coiling around the rigging, another trailing in the water, all of them somehow managing to look both casual and suggestive. "You know what I think, Captain?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"I think you're scared." Peter's eyes glittered with mischief. "Big, bad pirate captain, terror of the seven seas, and you're afraid of one little sea creature."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"No? Then why haven't you tried to get rid of me? You could throw the trident back into the ocean any time you wanted. Send me home to the depths, free yourself from this terrible burden of my company." Peter's smile was razor-sharp. "But you haven't. Why is that, I wonder?"

Jason's jaw clenched. "Maybe I like having control of the weather."

"Maybe." Peter's voice was silk and sin. "Or maybe you like having me around for entirely different reasons. Maybe you like the way I look at you. Maybe you've been wondering what it would feel like to have all eight of my tentacles wrapped around you, holding you, touching you..."

"Jesus Christ," Jason breathed, his knuckles white where he gripped the ship's rail.

"Not quite, though I appreciate the religious fervor." Peter was close enough now that Jason could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. "You know what I can smell on you right now, Captain?"

"Enlighten me."

"Want. Pure, desperate want." Peter's tentacle traced a feather-light pattern on Jason's forearm. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Jason stared at him for a long moment, then grabbed Peter by the shoulders and hauled him in for a kiss that was more claim than caress. Peter melted against him with a satisfied sound, tentacles immediately wrapping around Jason's waist.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Peter's grin was absolutely wicked.

"Well," he purred, "it's about time."

Jason's response was cut short by a low growl in his throat, his grip tightening on Peter's shoulders as he leaned in closer. Peter's eyes gleamed with mischief, clearly enjoying the effect he was having, when a voice rang out from across the deck.

"Cap'n! Ship on the horizon!"

Jason and Peter sprang apart, though one of Peter's tentacles remained curled possessively around Jason's wrist. Jason grabbed his spyglass, scanning the horizon until he found the approaching vessel.

"British," he cursed. "HMS Defiance."

"Ooh, Captain Morrison's ship," Peter said conversationally. "Wasn't he the one who called you 'a scourge upon decent society' in that wanted poster?"

"You read my wanted posters?"

"I find them quite flattering, actually. Very dramatic." Peter's tentacles began to writhe with anticipation. "Shall I sink her?"

"Can you?"

"Darling, I could turn that ship into driftwood before they even knew what hit them." Peter's smile was all teeth. "But where's the fun in that? Why don't we play with them a little first?"

Jason found himself grinning despite the danger. "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I have so many ideas," Peter purred, his tentacles already reaching for the rigging. "But first, I think we need to discuss my compensation for services rendered."

"What kind of compensation?"

Peter's laugh was like music and mayhem combined. "Dinner, dancing, and at least three hours of your undivided attention. In your cabin. With the door locked."

Jason's pulse quickened. "Deal."

"Excellent." Peter was already flowing up the mast, tentacles working the sails with inhuman grace. "Now let's show these British dogs why you don't mess with the Bloody Wraith and his sea witch!"

As Peter began to sing—something low and haunting in a language older than kingdoms—the wind picked up and the sea began to churn. Jason watched his impossible, infuriating, absolutely perfect curse work his magic and found himself thinking that maybe grabbing that trident had been the best decision he'd ever made.

Even if Peter was never going to let him live it down.

[isabeauwolf]

Four. Four soulmates. Oh Kamisama no! - Reader x ShiggyOverDabiHawks 8

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

💞 Chapter 8 - Fives a crowd?

Well, that answers that question about which timeline they are from. You mentally face palm yourself. Right during the Overhaul arc. You swallow, shaking off your heebie jeebie as best as you could. Great, they are doing to start a war in my house. And I'm the one who started it. Big oops.

"You take my arms." Overhaul grit his teeth. "Leaving me stranded on the side of the road, bleeding, helpless, quirkless and steal the last two years of my life's work?"

If you thought you saw Overhaul angry, he looked murderous now. You knew he could do fullmetal alchemist level of overpowered bullshit with his quick. And all without the equivalent exchange at that. Before Deku took him down, the yakuza birdman was like a Greek God on the battlefield, fought dirty, ferocious and tenacious. Hell, even his Monsterhaul form was badass.

If Deku hadn't been there. You had no doubt that Lemillion and Sir NightEye would have both died as messed up as that sounded. Sir had saw a future in which Deku died and got away.

"Serves you right, Overhaul. You owed us an arm after all, isn't that what you said?" Shigaraki chuckles. "Oh? And the point of playing Shogi was dethroning the King, right? You lost to that brat, game over."

"Talk about bad karma catchin' up to you, beaky." Dabi replies.

"You're one to talk Shigaraki." Overhaul pointed out, pointing at one of the covers of the manga. "That little pest beats you too."

You were already mentally and emotionally drained, tired. You just wanted to go to bed. "Alright." You stood to your feet again and interrupted the Villains spat. "I'm going to go change out of my work clothes and then we can prepare dinner." You drag your blanket with you. "I don't care what. Just please pick something and I'd appreciate it, if one of you helps me in the kitchen." You pause, peeking over your shoulder and adding. "Whoever doesn't help cook washes the dishes."

The men watch you leave.

"I'll be damned she is a bossy little thing." Dabi grins in amusement, standing and heading towards the window for another smoke break. "She's got grit. I'll give'er that."

"Bossy, bratty, control freak like some other annoying bird we know." Shigaraki huffs and crossing his arms.

Hawks' chuckles, smiling softly. "It's cute you gotta admit that. She's taking all this incredible well for a civilian."

"You mean she's a weirdo." Shigaraki grumbles.

Overhaul sat in silence, his lips twitch. You are quite bold to boss them around, holding your ground and stepping your foot down. Any other person would have been screaming for the hills, crying, pleading and trying to escape. But not you. Showing insane amounts of courage, thinking rationally and keeping your wits about you despite your earlier moments of vulnerability and emotional outburst.

The yakuza stood to his feet, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. "Better go see what we have to work with in the kitchen." He makes his way into the kitchen, opening the fridge, freezer and checking the pantry, thinking to himself in silence.

"It ain't your turn to cook." Hawks protested. Which was odd. He was more laxed out of the group, then again, a way to win over a potential lover was by cooking and to their stomachs. "It's mine."

"Overly greasy and fatty fried chicken, skewer's or otherwise isn't good for her stomach after all the stress she just endured for the past three hours." Overhaul drawled without leaving his gaze from the fully stocked pantry.

"I wasn't going to make fried chicken." Hawks muttered, his cheeks growing rosy. "Besides I can't help if its comfort food."

"Fried rice sounds nice." Overhaul mutters to himself, ignoring the hero. "I'll have to tweak the recipe a bit since we don't have any overnight or dry rice, but no matter." Pulling out the huge plastic container filled with rice, walking to the counter besides the stove, pausing and flickering his golden eyes on the winged bird. "Well? You were complaining and whining about not helping." He raised a brow; his tone was flat with a hint of annoyance. "Either come over here, make yourself useful and help or shut up and get out of the kitchen. I don't care."

Hawks' embarrassment quickly faded; his lips tightened into a strained smile. He went to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, onions, and scallions. "I'll go ahead and cut these."

"Suit yourself." Overhaul replied, pleased to find that you had a rice cooker in one of the lower cabinets, raising a gloved hand and pointing towards the pantry. "The cutting board is over there." Then pointing towards the drawer near the oven. "Knives are on the three drawers to the left."

Hawks blinked. "Damn, you already know your way around her kitchen?"

"Obviously." Overhaul clicked his tongue, stopping himself from rolling his eyes. "If we are going to be stuck here and visiting her home. We need to know our way around." He went back to the oven, setting the rice cooker on the counter, opened the rice container, scooping three cups of rice into scoop you kept inside and poured it in. The sound of the rice hitting the pot filled the silence before the gangster spoke again. "While your over there. Fetch a couple cans of those canned hams would you."

Hawks glared at the nagging, control freak. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get it."

Dabi's voice came from the living room. "Since both birdmen are playing housewives, I assume it's Shiggy's turn to wash dishes tonight, right?"

"What?" Shigaraki protests from the couch, jolting when he nearly disintegrated one of the manga volumes in his hands. He wasn't paying attention until Dabi called his name. "Why me? It isn't my turn." He narrowed his eyes. "It's that germ freaks turn."

Dabi snickered, blowing a smoke ring out the window before taking another hit. "Can you cook anything without burning it or turning it into dust?" Shigaraki said nothings, causing the flame users amused smirk to widen. "That's what I thought. Poor spoiled, sheltered little gamer nerd."

Shigaraki made a noise between a feral cat hissing and a growl. "I can't help it, if Kurogiri never taught me how to cook. He always made everything and when I tried, he'd shove me out."

"Takes real talent to burn a pot of boiling water." The black haired, patchwork villain reminded the other.

You came back wearing an oversize t-shirt with a side profile of Overhaul on it, bedtime shorts that stopped at your mid-thighs that read "Plus Ultra", ankle socks with Toga, Shigaraki and Dabi on them as you towel dried your hair after having freshly showered.

Dabi and Shigaraki paused to check out your bedtime outfit. It was still weird seeing they had merch here, yet they felt amused to find you wearing it. Aside from seeing bird beaks face on your chest.

"Really?" Shigaraki grumbled, tilting his head.

You furrowed your brows, blinking and staring down at your outfits. "What?"

"You seriously picked an outfit with literally each of us on it." The hand villain gestured to all of you.

Oh. You did. "It wasn't on purpose." Your cheeks grew rosy, nearly covering your face with your towel. "It was on top of my pajama pile, that's all."

"Uh huh, sure, doll, sure." Dabi raised a brow, finishing his cigarette and cocking his head to the side as he closed the window. "How cute, our soulmate really is our fangirl. Cringe worthy, but cute."

----- End of Chapter 8 ----

Tag list: @cherry-queens-blog @fanofflames @touyas-wife @redr0sewrites @slayfics @dabislittlemouse @doumadono @wtf-ask-baddie-overhaul @number-2-hero-hawks @meeludrawz @kyiratodoroki @lucyblue101 @angelblueflame @canary58143 @nakiich @ihearf @mossy-opal @beekeepingageissome

💞Chapter 1 - Ignorance is Bliss

💞Chapter 2- Unexpected Encounter

💞Chapter 3 - The Matchmaking Goddess meddles

💞Chapter 4 - New Game. Love Game, Start.

💞Chapter 5: Dance with Devils and a Red Winged Angel

💞Chapter 6: The Red String

💞Chapter 7: Fiction meets Reality

💞Chapter 9: Dinner with a yakuza, a birdman, a pyromaniac and decay man; what could happen?

[1000plants]

"Holidays" AU - Christmas

Bucky Barnes x reader (GN)

Summary: An accidental series centered around the various holidays with my beloved Bucky Barnes  

Warnings- Alcohol/drinking/intoxication, swearing, Soft!Bucky (a warning bc oh god I love him he's a cutie patootie), mentions/themes of self-doubt and self deprecation. 

Word count- 3.6 k (WAYYYY longer than I meant it to be, oops!)

Author's Note- Reading pt 1 is important (I recommend a reread)  :)

“GN” for this part is heavily masc leaning (all my gn is written from a male perspective, but there are more tones of “male” in this chapter imo) 

!!!Not proof read, if it’s shit just lmk!!!

Colored text are lyrics from different Christmas songs btw

Masterlist

Series Masterlist HERE

✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

You liked Christmas a lot more than Thanksgiving. Sitting on the couch of one of the many lounges in Stark towers, you had a cup of spiced apple cider in one hand and were reaching for a blanket with the other. Mid Friday afternoons were meant to be wasted on doing absolutely nothing… especially when you didn't have a single mission to prepare for.

In the lane, snow is glistening.

With a week until Christmas, Tony had made it his life's goal to make the tower wreak of the holidays. Every room had been decorated with some form of reds, greens, golds, or silvers. Some rooms got a more childish makeover, felt Santas and reindeers, with big faux snowflakes. And the kitchen was a simple winter wonderland, silvers and whites with twinkling fairy lights.

It was truly breathtaking. You’d give Tony that…

The lounge you were in right now was reminiscent of the classic holidays. A large, deep green pine tree stood tall in the corner, adorned with dark red ornaments and cranberry/popcorn garland. The electric fireplace was crackling softly as the TV played the holiday songs you queued up.

You were curled up on the couch, a fluffy blanket draped around your form as you sipped the hot cider. It was a moment of peacefulness that you rarely got to feel anymore. Though, in just a few hours you'd need to go get ready.

A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight,

Of course, no holiday would be complete without a famous Tony Stark party. This was the only one you would have to drag yourself to this season. The big SHIELD party with all the agents, Tony's staff, and more figure heads than you could count. It was going to be 

Honestly, you liked the big parties. They were easy to fade into. Get a few drinks, talk to just enough people, and get lost in the vibes… So, you weren't exactly dreading it.

What you were dreading was leaving the room. Well, no, dreading wasn't the right word… Tony had hung up mistletoe on each entry way in the building, including bedrooms. 

It was at the Thanksgiving party that Bucky told you he liked mistletoe, you had assumed he was flirting with you, obviously. But once you actually saw mistletoe, you felt the nerves explode in your stomach. 

Did he even remember telling you that? Both of you had drunk a decent amount of alcohol. You wouldn't blame him if he had just said that to fill space, it would hurt but you wouldn't blame him.

Dreading wasn't the right word because though you skirted past the flora at inhumane speed, you had a hope lingering in your bones that he'd pop up. That Bucky would point it out and make the move…

But that wasn't his style, and you knew it. Bucky wouldn't wait for some stupid plant to dictate what he did and with whom, if he wanted to kiss you he would. He was bold, took what he wanted, confident and unapologetic. Everything that drew you towards him were the same things that confirmed your worst fears.

You swallowed another gulp of your drink, gripping the ceramic mug a little tighter. It echoed the burn in a similar way  to the alcohol at the Thanksgiving party, but didn't leave you feeling lightheaded. 

He doesn't want to kiss me, you mentally admitted.

Walking in a winter wonderland

˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

If you could’ve gone in your pajamas, you would've. Dressing up to the nines was never your favorite, sure it was fun for a little, but once the sweat seeped into the fabric of your shirt you lost interest. 

I’ll have a blue Christmas without you,

Still, you knew once you just got there and found a few people to mingle with, you would be fine. You'd have fun! You’d sing and party! You’d drink a lot!! 

With a heavy heart, and one last longing glance back at your large bed with the welcoming blankets and book on the nightstand… you fixed the cuffs of your emerald green button up and exited to the hallway. 

The lights had all been dimmed, a reminder that you were the last person showing up for this thing. Did anyone notice you weren't there yet? The party really only started an hour ago… a quick peek at your smart watch told you no. No alerts, no texts, no missed calls… not even a Team message.

 I’ll be so blue just thinking about you,

“I didn't mean to be the last one,” You mumbled to yourself, pulling out your phone to check the time once more (and to verify you had absolutely no alerts). As you walked a little faster to the elevators, the silence in the tower was eerily welcoming. With the decorations about, you felt like the creature that stirred in all of the old Christmas tales. Walking purposefully to keep the noise to a minimum reminded you of all the times you’d sneak around on Christmas eve to see if you could catch Santa or something similar.

The main rooms aside from the bedroom hallways pulled you from the distant memories. Carpets that switched to off-white tiles made you subconsciously straighten your back and stand a smidge taller. 

Your shoes sounded loud on tile, forgoing the muted walking in favor of speed. By habit, you hug the edge of the frame as you step into the elevator, avoiding the mistletoe that hangs above it.

How many times had you passed that while with Bucky? They had all been hung up for weeks and surely the two of you had been under them together at some point? Oh, God… Bucky. He was definitely at the party. Not that you didn't want him to be there! But since you’d been in your head all day about him, he was becoming someone you didn't really want to see. 

 Decorations of red on a green christmas tree,

As the elevator rose, so did the tense knot in your stomach. Those same nerves that had you fiddling with your buttons and rings were now transforming into something arguably worse. Hunger.

Breathing out a tense breath, you allowed a smile to pull on your lips as you remembered Tony’s promise to the team- his bribe to Steve to let him even throw this thing- Food and drinks from Asguard. 

The food wasn't anything truly remarkable, it was like Midguard food but with more complex flavors. Things that lingered longer, tasted bolder, but all in all the same. What was remarkable was the drinks. That shit could get the super soldiers wasted, so it would most definitely spice up your night as well.

 Wont be the same, dear, if you’re not here with me,

˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

Oh yeah! You chuckled mentally, taking another hearty sip of your spiked cider, Asguardian alcohol is just what I needed…

The party was loud- very loud- you could hardly hear yourself breathing over the Christmas carols. Though, the carols were becoming more and more sparse as the night progressed. Interrupted with more club music and modern beats as the hoard of dancers decided they couldn't effectively boogie down to O Holy Night.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Cowards, all of them, you thought to yourself as another remix of some pop song thumped from the speakers. You sighed and rolled your neck, working out the kinks as you tried to shift away from the bar. Your face was feeling warm and the liquid gold of alcohol in your hands wasn't going to get spilt just because of an intoxicated person.

You were on your 4th(?) drink? But this was the first one that was Asguardian. Honestly? You probably should've just been doing this all night! It hit your stomach lightly and was smooth going down, the type of alcohol that would definitely mess you up if you weren't careful… which was probably why they were only letting people only have one drink.

“Woah, ok, I think I’m getting deja vu,” A deep voice chuckles as a familiar man slides up next to you. You hadn't been avoiding him, honestly surprised you’d only seen him just now. His voice sounded wiggly as he placed a hand on your lower back. Mmm, you might be a bit more intoxicated than you thought you'd get… A spark of heat shot through your body at his touch, your spine stiffened as you tilted your head towards him.

Let your heart be light

Has he been looking for you? It might just be sudden wishful thinking, but you couldn't deny the giddiness that fluttered through your veins at the thought. Thanks to the only lighting being strobing red and green fairy lights you really couldn't clearly see his face, but his expressions were always something of an open book to you. Bucky initially held a carefree grin, but after just a few seconds of dizzying eye contact, he looked concerned.

When you didn't reply (instead just clumsily nudging his hand away from your body), he leaned a little closer to ask, “How many drinks have you had tonight?” The playful tone mostly dropped from his voice and replaced instantly with a deep seeded concern.

Dazzling. 

From now on, our troubles will be out of sight,

You noticed he had shifted his arm to be just enough between you and some person who was dancing quite wildly. You felt warm, perspiration on the nape of your neck and lower back. The dancing bodies and close confinements weren't helping at all.

“Uhm,” You mumbled as you looked towards the bar. Your brows pulled together as you tried to count the cups you had gone through. “Fffffour….” you slowly said, uncertainty laced in your voice. Your tongue blindly ran over your lower lip, like you were subconsciously trying to remember the taste of all the drinks you had previously consumed.

Though your tongue felt heavy, you'd argue you weren't drunk. Grinning as you looked down at your drink, you would definitely be drunk after this one. Almost instantly, you found yourself forgetting he was in front of you.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

“That… doesn't sound right,” Bucky muttered, a wary smile ghosting over his face. His voice cut through your haze, pulling your attention back to him. He gently reached out to tap the side of your cup, the iced brown liquid sloshing slightly, “I think you've had a bit much, hm?”

You wrinkled your nose and sniffed at his declaration, “Four isn't much,” you argued.

“And,” You  quickly add, leaning towards him as a smile pulls on your lips, “This is my first one with the good alcohol.”

You notice his lack of drink, and his demeanor is far more sober than you would've expected. In fact, you don't think he drank at all tonight. He mirrored your grin, sucking in air through his teeth as he nodded down to your cup once more.

“Mh, I don't think you need the good alcohol,” He gently teases, "You're plenty drunk as is.”

“Youre not drunk at all,” You counter, his presence was more sobering to you than water was. It was that same feeling of cold water that vividly lives in your mind ever since the Thanksgiving party. You knew why he made you feel sweaty yet freezing all at once, and you briefly wondered if he felt the same.

“Told you I'm not a day drinker,” He says with a sigh, shrugging casually. He gently grabbed your wrist, loose enough that you could pull away if you wanted. When he knew you weren't going to shove him off again, he guided you towards one of the bar stools. 

Make the yuletide gay,

You sat on the raised stool, just a hair taller than Bucky now if you sat up straight. The ache in your feet appeared as you finally took your weight off of them.

“... it's 11 pm,” you chuckle as you set your chin in your hand, propping yourself on the bar. Your other hand idly played with the lip of your cup.

Bucky drew you in, he always did. The thoughts of drowning out your feelings with drinks tonight flitted quickly away. It was easier tonight to silence all the noise in the room. The music, people, and noise was all just clutter in the way of Bucky.

“Yeah, on a FriDAY,” He replied quickly with a lighthearted eyeroll. Shaking his head with a faux disappointed expression.

You loudly snort and lightly shove his arm at his stupid pun. You don't think you’d ever heard him make a joke that wasn't dry humor or a cleverly worded insult. It was like a breath of fresh air, and you could tell that it was new for him too. Though, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes was quickly brought back to concern and care. 

From now on our troubles will be miles away,

Your conversation for the next half hour was lighthearted; pointing out those who looked out of place as the night progressed, finding a team member who was getting a little too into the holiday spirit, and those who were very much not enjoying the spirit. Bucky slowly moved a bit closer to you as you talked, close enough that you wanted to believe he felt the same way.

Though the conversation was what you truly needed tonight, your drink hadn't gone untouched. Drinking it a little faster than the others that you had objectively nursed throughout the night. The alcohol definitely hit you harder, but you still felt as tipsy as when you started. By Bucky’s wry looks and the slow build in gentleness of his words, it was clear you were more wasted than you'd ever been around him before. 

Here we are, as in olden days,

Happy golden days of yore,

˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

Though the years I’ve moved a lot,

“I thought you said Christmas was your favorite holiday?” You mumble to Bucky, sipping from the cup of water he had given you once he walked you back to the main kitchen.

It was dark in the kitchen, only the silver of the moon reflecting off the snow provided light in the room. The way it caught the silver tinsel that adorned the cabinets made it look like snow was falling inside as the specks of light reflected off of it and onto the walls. 

“It is,” he admits with a small nod. He had been leaning against the countertop with both forearms while he played with some of the fake snow fabric that sat under a tiny ceramic neighborhood, “Well, kind of…”

Different doors with different locks,

“Kind of?” you echo as you arch an inquisitive brow. You gulped down the last bit of water in your cup, holding it out to him to be refiled once more. You bite back a burp that rumbled up your throat, stomach agitated at the water as it mixed with the alcohol.

“Mostly a fan of the mistle toe,” he reminded you, glancing up at a sprig that hung above the door frame just a few feet away. He did not look at it long, the quiet hiss of the faucet running as he filled your cup once more. He slid it towards you, “Last one, I promise, then I'll let you sleep,” he murmured.

Your grumbles died on your tongue as you forced yourself to take another sip, "Didn't take you as a sap for that kind of tradition,” you honestly tell him. Just a few hours ago you would've scolded yourself for saying that without second thought- no - you wouldn't have even let the words leave your lips. 

“Wasn’t about tradition, I just never found a good time to kiss you,” he immediately replies. You paused, looking up at him and meeting his light blue eyes. If you were any more sober, you probably would've become instantly flustered. Perhaps laugh it off and deny it. 

But somehow Christmas always finds me,

But you weren't sober. And you were a little sick of waiting.

“You can kiss me now.” 

Your voice didn't sound like your own. Though you felt confident, feeling like you had nothing to lose, your voice was a timid whisper. Your tongue felt heavy again, and the turmoil in your stomach only grew as your mouth worked faster than your brain.

It’s been a while since I wished,

But Bucky only grinned. He shook his head ‘no’ as he sighed. He stood up and peaked at your cup of water, not much had really been drunk.

“I'm not going to kiss you when you're drunk,” He whispers, taking the cup from you and dumping it down the sink when he pieced together he'd already gotten you to drink all the water he could.

“I'm not drunk” you denied, letting him gently usher you towards your room. Though, your stumbling steps and spinning vision told you otherwise.

For roller blades and pixie sticks,

“You wont remember this in the morning," He teased. The hint of disappointment in his voice wasn't missed by you, “That is enough to tell me you're too drunk.”

Once you made it to your room in one piece, you leaned heavily against your door frame. The welcoming scent of pine and the warm reds of your bed sheets called to you. Only making the fog of sleepiness thicker.

“What if I do remember?” you whispered, face falling as you tilted your head to the side.

There wasn't mistletoe above your door. You noticed it almost immediately when decorations had been put up. Well, in all fairness, no one had it above their bedroom doors, but right now you were extremely disappointed.

“Then we'll find some mistletoe.”

But somehow, Christmas always finds me

˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

Is it too late, too late? To let you know,

Your head only lightly ached the next morning. Pounding back another two cups of water the moment you woke up and mentally thanking Bucky for making you drink last night.

Right…

Last night…

Had… had he really said that? Or was your brain just that desperate for a sappy hallmark-esq Christmas moment?

Well, there was really only one thing you could do.

You did not spare yourself a second glance as you left your room, you already knew what you must've looked like. Hair sticking up in every direction, sleep still in your eyes, shirt crumpled from sleeping like a log.

I can pass it off as hungover, you tell yourself, hardly paying attention as you shuffle to the kitchen. It was early enough that the place was still quiet, a chill in the air from a cracked open window that made you shiver. Everyone else probably drank way more than you did, and they didn't have a super soldier mothering them to drink water directly afterwards.

I can’t quite escape,

Blinking and adjusting to the brightness of the kitchen, you scowled as another gust of wind blew through, Just be vague, but not too vague, you thought as you struggled to pull the window shut.

“Got it?” Bucky asked as he stood from the table, he was sitting close enough to the wall that you hadn't seen him there. His sudden appearance startled a response out of you, pulling your arms back to your body as you jumped slightly.

“I remember,” you quickly blurt out, arms falling to your sides.

You felt stupid as you just stood there, both of you looking at each other for a few silent moments.

How much I need you,

“You… remember last night?” Bucky asks, voice emphasising ‘night’ as he pushes away from the table and walks towards you carefully. 

The way he looked you over made panic settle back in your bones. He was just taking care of you, you were misremembering things, you were just drunk and now you're just desperate.

“Yeah, last night…” you dumbly agree. “Or, I at least hope I do” was silently said.

You’re walkin’ towards me now,

“How much water did I make you drink?” He asks, voice low. It was just so that he didn't wake up anyone else. He probably doesn't want to be too loud since everyone else is also hungover…

“Four. One for each drink I had,” I sound stupid, I probably look stupid too, “But I didn't finish the last one.”

Bucky nodded at you, the small smile that pulled on his lips made your mind go blank. God, you'd do anything to see him smile like that all the time.

“And?” He prompted. With each step closer he took towards you your heart hammered louder and louder. How did he look so put together in the mornings? Like he's been awake for hours… Gosh, he looks great all the time-

What am I gonna say? Push my pride aside,

“And… there's mistletoe,” you mumble, finding your voice with only minor struggle. You didn't have to look to your right to know there was a small sprig of the plant pinned to the covered support beam of the ceiling. You had memorized where all of them were, as to be always close to them but never directly under them.

“There’s mistletoe,” Bucky whispered. And in a moment his hand gently cupped the side of your face as he kissed you. His head tilted to the side as his lips were pressed firmly against yours. They were soft as he gently pulled your body closer to him, your own hand falling to his waist and the other grabbing his shoulder.

When I close my eyes, It’s just you and I,

You didn't know how long you were there with him, though you knew you kissed him back instantly. The other thing you definitely knew was that this moment, disorderly standing in the kitchen that was overly decked out in whites and silvers, you weren't going to be forgetting any time soon.

Hell, now Christmas is your favorite holiday.

Well, mostly the mistletoe.

Here under the mistletoe

[christinalvjyy]

okayokay, hear me out...Sick!reader x Wilbur where Wilburs stressed about givng them meds on time and stuff (ive had a cough for like a MONTH and just went to the doctors AGAIN and they put me on a shit ton of meds 😭, please save me)

Oh, I get you so much... I've been sick for weeks now, and it's a pain in my ass,too 😭

It's like super early here, and I had an idea, so I couldn't sleep on it 😭 sorry if it's small and ass

"Where is it?!"

You've been sick for what, 2 weeks now? It's been the worst. You couldn't move and do anything, and your life depended on wilbur, your boyfriend. He was always busy, of course, so it was quite hard to take care of yourself when your boyfriend was out working and such.

You've been to the doctors plenty of times, and the only thing they gave you were pills, pills, and pills! It was getting frustrating at this point. Your whole kitchen cabinet is filled with lots of medicine and pills.

You were currently watching TV, not really paying attention to what it had on, but mostly focusing on your throat. You couldn't swallow at all, so you'd have a bucket near you incase it was getting harder to swallow.

Wilbur finally arrived home with a tired expression on his face, but when he saw you, he got worried.

"Oh,baby... are you still feeling awful?" He asked with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Yeah...I cant eat or do anything,love..." you whined as you saw Wilbur pacing around the room.

"Okay, I'll get you your pill. It's time for you to get one." And with that, he went to the cabinet to look for it. His eyes widened with the amount of pills and syrups there were inside, just a small cabinet.

"Bloody hell... what pill is it?" He groaned as he searched around.

"It's the one with a blue box and has big bold letters that say 'Sore throat pills'"you called from the living room, as you started coughing.

"Oh,babe.. jesus, there's so many pills here! Where is it?!" He got frustrated, looking for the blue box. He started getting anxious, and so he started looking around the whole house.

"Hun? Where did you put them last time? Do you have them near you?" Wilbur tried speaking without a worried tone.

" i- I don't know,wil... im sure I gave them to you yesterday." You coughed again,as you groaned and closed your eyes.

"I'm having a fever,wil!" You shouted as your body relaxed slowly.

"Okay! Okay! On my way,for fucks sake!" And he ran over to you,pressing his lips on your forehead.

"Oh,yeah... youre burning up." So he put the thermometer on you, and continued going on the hunt for your damn pills.

It had been almost an hour, you being confirmed to have a fever, and wilbur has yet to find those pills! He was going insane.

"Jesus christ, y/n. It's like they disappeared! Can I just give you some syrup for your fever?" You nodded at that and drank it.

Wilbur sat next to you with a sigh,looking at the TV. He was disappointed that he couldn't find your pills to make you feel better. When he shifted on the couch, he heard a soft crunch. He lifted your blanket and saw... the pills! He looked at you with a side-eye.

"I asked if you had them, and you told me no. They were right next to you,darling." He groaned as he gave you the pill.

"Oops..." You chuckled and cuddled him for a while before you went off to sleep.

[wingedprincesskoala]

OK, I've watched a bunch of interviews today. In one, Ian said Roland is the genius and Curt is the face and the hair *oops* Then in another one, Roland admitted him being the primary songwriter he stayed with the band's name *and all its debts* AND explained how he became more self-confident, from writing songs he couldn't sing to those only he could sing *so Curt was basically left to his bass* And how Oleta contributed to the Seeds.

Curt had every reason to leave at that point. He and Roland got sick of each other, being in each other's pockets for years. They were fighting all the time, there was no real communication. Roland was already in therapy but pampering his growing ego, while Curt was in love with Frances and America, finding less and less enjoyment being part of TFF.

Childhood friends became business partners.

And their body language while recalling those events is yet another thing. Curt said he was happy and he genuinely looked happy. Roland was the one who looked heartbroken, bitter and angry *"He didn't really care for me"* But I'm so glad he kept the name. The stuff he did without Curt is actually among the best they've ever done.

"But nothing ever changes unless there's some pain"

Dunno who really contacted whom first, I do think it was Curt sending that fax with his phone number and Roland asking his lawyer to contact him back. They all went out to dinner later on anyway.

Eventually, Curt wanted to get back on his own terms. They started writing *together* and with Curt's longtime collaborator. So there was a compromise there.

And as I love seeing these two guys together *totally married*, I'm happy for the divorce era. Roland made such bold, amazing music and managed to "turn this loss into a gain."

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 60

Wow we really made it 60 days huh?

Okay so i’m not gonna yap long for this part. You saw the image, you see the read under. This is a small comic adaptation of @vanadisvalentine’s “Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed” fanfic. And it adapts the end of Chapter 4 which is pretty fuckin pivotal in that story. So if you haven’t read that fic yet I’m actually begging you, please read it and don’t let this comic be your first experience.

Second warning, this is going to be a long one. How long? Who knows. I haven’t written it yet, but this Day represents one of the biggest turning points in the whole project for me. 

When you click the read under you’re gonna get just the comic, and then you're gonna get hit with a gigantic fucking wall of text. I apologize in advance for the amount of rambling I’m about to do but I got a lot to say here.

Okay so you read the comic, you ready? Cause not only am I gonna yap about making that comic along with all the behind the scenes stuff, (amidst other tangents), but I’m also going to talk about the fic this is based on. This is probably going to feel a bit disorganized but i’ll try my best to keep this legible. Apologies in advance.

So your first thought is probably “Jem why the fuck did you do that?” and you’re correct for thinking that way. Rest assured, you’re going to ask that question again later but significantly louder and more exasperated in the future. 

Answer is simple though. I wanted to do something big for Number 60, cause every 10 images I wanna do something Big. For Number 50 I came out of retirement and wrote a fanfic and some art to go with it. So I wanted to go up. How do i go up? Well I am a comic artist, and making a webcomic is my general goal in life and what directs me forward. Sooo, why not a comic?

Okay but a comic of what? Well, why not a fanfic? And at the time the real answer was obvious.

There are Three Fanfics made for Junkan that are pivotal to this entire event. Without all three of them combined ya’ll would not be having Junkan art pop up in your feed every day, questioning what the hell is in my bloodstream to make me draw all this. The answer is Junkan, junkan is in my bloodstream.

I plan to talk about all three of those fics in this event, in as much detail as I can muster. That said not only are we going in reverse order, as todays fic “Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed” is the last piece of the puzzle for why I went off the deep end and drew this much Junkan. But also the other two fics aren’t gonna be discussed for a long time due to their placement in the event order. I’m talking within the last ten days. Oops.

But at the time it was, pretty fucking easy to choose this one to adapt. The other two either wouldn’t really fit my style that I had been working with up to that point, or were just not made to be a comic without way more energy.

And as a reminder this was before I had actually gotten to know some of ya’ll. Within the realm of Junkan Val was the only friend I had. I did have other people who liked DR and were on board with Junkan after I showed them my supply and stated my case, but Val was the only person I knew at the time who was as brainrotted for this ship as I am, granted I think she has like, a normal amount of brainrot. I think by the end of the project I’ve fully snapped and now I can’t stop thinking about these two, like I have actually tried to stop thinking about them but they keep popping up. What was I talking about- Right! Point is, you can consider Day 60, or as I would call it in casual conversation “The 22 Page Junkan Comic,” my most excessive thankyou to her for helping me stay motivated throughout the project and playing a massive part in its inspiration.

As for making the comic.

It was a very bold mix of “I’m having the time of my life” and “Hell,” that's the shortest way I could put it. The longest way? Wellll

So by this point I wasn’t just showing these pics to Val alone. I had a few friends even before Val who I showed the art too. I’d get compliments and feedback and all that nice stuff that keeps me going.

As I’ve stated in the past (i think) one of the hardest parts of this project for me was the lack of validation for my efforts. I do not make art purely to be complimented, I make art in order to hopefully bring a smile to someones face. However I do still take a lot of joy when I see my art being positively received, it shows that my efforts were worth it. Seeing peoples reactions helps me remember why I’m doing this and that I’m doing a good job at it. So if I  don’t get a lot of that, especially on something i put a lot of effort into, it can be a little demoralizing. It’s something I’ve tried to work past during this year, but at the time it was a big issue. Day 60 took around 2 weeks to finish, as I was managing other projects and commission work at the time. The whole time I barely showed anyone, Val was obvious because this was a surprise gift for her, however the rest is because I was very adamant about not spoiling the Fic it was based on, and say for a single person amidst the people I would show these pics to none of them had read the fic. So I went from showing a small handful of people these to showing one guy (admittedly one of my best friends) for the span of 2 weeks while grinding away at the comic. It wasn’t until the very tail end that my girlfriend surprised me by reading the fic, meaning I could show her as well finally. 

Was it worth starving myself of a majority of positive feedback for 2 weeks when I haven’t had to do something like that for years? Oh god yes but we’re not there yet I still need to talk about the actual comic.

So when you compare the fic to the comic you’ll notice I skipped a decent portion of this scene, this is mostly just for the sake of not making this take too long, I think I picked a pretty solid starting point but also I won’t lie and say there isn’t a part of me that wishes I took like an extra week or two to adapt the whole scene sometimes. Sometimes.

Mukuro acted as the pseudo cover for the comic, both because it was a small detail noted in the scene that she was watching the door, and because I could call back to the “Mukuro Notes” bit I did on the Vampire Junkan comic, which seemed like a cute call back. I also used this as a way to skip past some of the initial dialogue of the scene in terms of adaptation. I’m really happy with how this page turned out visually, I remember having to fiddle with Mukuro’s anatomy and smaller details for awhile.

As you can probably tell, like usual the art for this was still being done as a sketch which I colored rather than what I do in my usual comic stuff, that being Sketch > Lines > Colors > Shading. I did shade a few of these pages cause I think the extra effort was warranted for some pages. I wouldn’t know this without like, actually time traveling to check but I think there was even a time this would be just uncolored sketches. Clearly that didn’t last because yeah, the chick who’s drawing 100 days worth of junkan art is going to make a 22 page comic and NOT color the whole thing, keep telling yourself that Jem.

Once again since I was directly adapting this fic like with Day 20, I tried to be semi accurate in what I assume Junko’s appearance would be, giving her the bunny and bow clips in her hair. I didn’t go all the way since honestly I think i would have gone a little crazy if I drew both characters in their actual Hope’s Peak uniforms for the whole thing, so I mostly stuck to their killing game designs with that small change to Junko. And yes, I did have to edit Junko’s hair to remove the bear clips multiple times throughout the first few pages because I kept forgetting not to draw them. For the first time having these two memorized was a hindrance. 

If you’ve ever seen me draw a Question Mark with a cross instead of a dot when drawing Mikan, it’s cause of this comic. Val said it was a cute detail so I decided to stick with it when applicable.

I think I have read the segment of the story this is based on like, 30 times bare minimum. Now some of those times were just because I often reread this fic to help me relax before sleeping, but the majority are because I kept looking at this scene over and over again so I could try and get every detail of this perfect. The posing, expressions, and other visuals, while a little rough around the edges were all possible after going over every paragraph to get the vibe as close as possible.

The dialogue is word for word, punctuation for punctuation ripped from the fic itself. Mildly difficult to pull off without having to extend certain pages, but in the end I managed to pull it off.

Page 7 is one of my favorite pages from the experience. Originally the visual was supposed to be Junko in literal chains of despair with Mikan coming in with a key to unlock them, however chains are agonizing to draw. Not drawing them was a form of self care, even if I think it would have been a bit of a stronger metaphor. 

Mikan’s expressions were very difficult to get just right in this, which was half the fun. Do you know how fucking satisfying it was to draw her happy crying??? Very.

Page 10 is another one I’m really happy with. I don’t know exactly what the original plan was beyond the fact that I wanted the shot of Mikan reacting to that being a lot more visually extreme for the colors and amount of space it takes up to make it as overwhelming as possible. But I went in reverse  and made the initial heart stop moment of her realizing that Junko just said that more prominent than the rush of emotion hitting her right after.

There were going to be more visuals of Mikan being cute in the following page, however not only was I struggling for ideas but also my energy was fluctuating to hell and back by this point in the comic.

It took awhile to get the initial kiss to look good because by this point I was still really figuring out how the fuck to do that. I can’t remember if I mentioned it but the kiss in the Vampire Comic is one I actually edited after the fact before the post was scheduled because it looked really weird and pissed me off. Luckily this one doesn’t bother me at all. I remember being super paranoid i made the posing look too sexual, I don’t know what the fuck past me was on about but I’m not here to question I’m here to curse you all with knowledge and funfacts.

On page 15 Junko’s blush and smile are a bit more intense compared to the other panels on this page while she wipes away Mikan’s tears. This is because in future stories by Val it is confirmed a few times that Junko has dacryphilia, meaning she thinks Mikan looks really hot when she’s crying. Yes I’m really working in details from other fics into this comic, you should not be surprised this isn’t even the weirdest thing i’ve put in this whole event.

Peak comedy that I mentioned the question mark with the cross dot earlier and on Page 16 I didn’t do that, immersion broken, back to square one Past Jem!

Junko with no contacts!!! I mentioned during one of the Vampire AU days that while I don’t feature it in that AU alone I like the idea of Junko’s real eye color being red. Something I can never remember whether it’s actually canon or just strongly implied. I think this is the page I put the most amount of effort into, both to make it look well lit, and also to make sure her god damn eyes look as pretty as humanly possible. The end result may or may not be my favorite page of the whole comic? I dunno

I said Mikan’s expressions were hard to draw for this since I wanted to get them just right, she requires a lot more work on the smaller details to make everything feel right. Junko however? Oh no I was thriving by this point, her more lowkey expressions do need a bit more thought and effort, but by this point in the comic I was in my element with her. 

But speaking of expressions, Page 19.

That smile on Mikan in the middle panel took 20 fuckin’ minutes because I had never drawn Mikan looking that happy and I had no fucking idea what I was doing. I did actually edit the page last night (as of the writing of this post), however it wasn’t for the expression. In the original version of the page, Junko looked really fuckin weird in the last panel, like I don’t know how I let that slide but her whole face and neck looked way off. These pages aren’t like, perfect quality but that one was just egregious. Also edited Mikan’s blush in that panel just cause I was already there.

Junko’s surprised face was very fun.

And I think if I were gonna ever redo any page in full for this comic it’d be the last one. I don’t think this one looks bad I just know that I could I could do way better nowadays even if I stuck to just coloring a sketch. Maybe sometime down the line.

And that’s the comic itself! I can’t think of any other fun facts or thoughts on the art itself at this point. Uhhhh, I guess the cover I made last minute for this post is technically a reference to a future day? What does that mean? Oh you’ll fuckin’ see.

So 2 weeks of effort with little feedback and rereading the same scene over and over again, was it worth it?

God yes it was.

When I sent Val the Google Drive folder with the comic I was jittery for hours as if I had too much coffee. I was nervous as shit over whether she would like it or not, since this was when I still was a perpetual nervous wreck with very little self respect who was viewing her as “Coolest Person Ever” rather than “That’s bestie.” I was also nervous because it was the first time I actually asked for a more detailed response rather than just letting her respond in whatever way she wanted.

But when she responded?

I have lived the past several years doing weed, I’ve recently quit (i think by the time this posts it’ll be close to 3 months since I went clean), but that’s besides the point. I’ve had mild highs, crazy highs, bad highs, good highs, sad highs, and highs where I don’t feel anything. 

I severely doubt that any drug or vice on this planet will ever match the feeling of reading that response. I was shaking, I bit my knuckles until it left indents for like a full hour minimum, an adrenaline rush doesn’t even begin to describe what I was experiencing. I rode out the happiness from this moment for an entire week, I worked on comm jobs that would normally leave me feeling aggravated as hell and did so with a smile because I was just that fuckin excited over it. This probably sounds embarrassing as shit but there have been times where I go back to read that response when I just need a pick me up.

I had a fuckin epiphany at that moment. Who fuckin cares?

24 fucking years (25 starting tomorrow) I’ve lived my life as a people pleaser perfectionist with extreme paranoia problems with absolutely no self esteem and a whole wealth of other mental health issues. I would feel like dogshit if I halfassed a comm even if it was a really bad one. My whole goal in life was to make a webcomic that would make EVERYONE happy, be a positive part of their week. I was paranoid about pissing off the wrong people, starting shit, how people perceive me, about what ideas for my comic would be problematic or not. But after this? Who gives a shit?

It ain’t about making People Happy it’s about making Yourself Happy and the People you can reach happy. My goal is still to make a webcomic that people will come across, and look forward to every week as an escape to give them some positive vibes every week, but I ain’t gonna do that if I’m desperately trying to appeal to every single person on the planet while trying to stay as uncontroversial as possible. I wanna make art that makes people happy, and if I make it the way I wanna make it then it will eventually reach the people that it can make happy.

But enough of that shit, the actual big thing that happened because of my complete reassessment of my personal values and entire goal for life is that I fucking finally stopped giving a shit about whether people were gonna throw me in a woodchipper because I shipped Junkan. And it will continue to get funnier and funnier that after all the time I spent scared out of my fuckin’ mind over what people would think, that absolutely fucking nothing happened. It is day 49 at the time of writing this and STILL I have not had anyone give me grief or issues over this whole project, nothing but support and even some new friends over it. You cannot write something funnier than that.

I think if I went back in time and told myself at the beginning of the year that her fears were completely unfounded she would bleed out the eyes and pass out, and I would laugh. I’d laugh so fuckin’ hard.

So yeah, this Comic and the reaction it elicited changed my entire perspective on life and being an artist, I can’t say It’s been perfect or that I haven’t faltered on certain things, but  I think to an extent I have been a lot happier as a result. Is it a little weird that this niche version of a niche ship is now directly tied to a drastic change in my mind? Is it any weirder than the fact that I transitioned into a woman because I binge read like, all of the Tokomaru I possibly could on AO3 and it made me think that wearing a skirt might be cool?

Alright so how’re ya'll holdin up? Drink some water we ain’t done. This is already getting up to 7 pages on the google doc that I prepare these posts on and now I have to like, talk about Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed properly. So bare witness to me trying to figure out how the hell to format talking about what might just be my favorite fic of all time.

But first lemme go reread the entire thing, I know the passage of time doesn’t exist in the context of these text walls but i’ll be back in like, a few hours to a day.

Okay i’m back-

I’m honestly not sure where to start here. Normally with my biggest obsessions I could probably go on lengthy rambles about why I love them so much, but this? I struggle to find a proper place to start, or even how to format this. I don’t want to just give a beat for beat plot synopsis while talking about the things I like, but also how do I talk about something this good otherwise.

So fair warning this might be completely incoherent at points, sorry??

This was not like, the third Junkan fic I ever read despite it being one of the three fics vital to me becoming the inhuman machine of pure Junkan brainrot that I’ve become today. A lot of things are blurred but if I remember right the exact timeline of events was Read a cute Junkan fic which made me think “Wait this ship can be soft and cute???” and then I read Smile by Kayleen, which is funny in hindsight because I really went to tooth rotting fluff to one of the darkest Non-Abusive Junkan fics out there (dark by my standards at least and I think my frame of reference is out of sorts). I think after that I just stopped for awhile, partially because Smile wasn’t finished at the time, partially because I still wasn’t sure how to navigate the Junkan tag to find what I was looking for in the ship.

Smile comes to a thrilling conclusion and I think to myself “maybe this author has more?” which is how I found Kayleen’s series of One-Shots for these two (along with separate three other pieces), I read through those in a day and would continue to check the tag to see if it updated, like, every day.  Eventually after a couple months (possibly way longer), something came over me and I finally started seriously looking over the tag to try and find more Soft Junkan, whether there were others I read before it or not, I honestly can’t remember. 

What I do remember is I came across “The Marvelous Makeover of Mikan Tsumiki” by VanadisValentine. I don’t know how I found that before the fic of today’s subject, if I had to guess I wasn’t reading the tags first on this run through. I was likely reading the name of the fic, and THEN i read the tags to see if it has what I was looking for (I wasn’t a starving animal for the ship by this point so I was a lot more picky with what I was willing to risk my time on). And this fic’s name was slightly more eye catching for me at the time I guess??

Fun fact when I first read this fic I wasn’t even sure if it actually was a shipping piece at first, not until finishing it at least. How? Poor reading comprehension is my only guess lol. Anyway, I finish that, loved it, and made my usual move of checking to see if the author had written anything else like this fic, and oh boy did she. 

This finally brings us to me finally reading “Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed.” Took us fucking long enough.

It was perfect, it was everything. I fucking loved reading it the entire time. It had everything I could have wanted out of this ship without me even realizing what I wanted at the time. The weirdest part that my immediate response after wasn’t to go on an adrenaline fueled binge of the tag like I did for Tokomaru way back when I first got into Danganronpa. The most I did was read the other Junkan fics in Val’s library at the time. Otherwise I just stopped again. 

It was then that I drew the first three days of this event, the original sketches. I kept them a secret between myself and a small few friends, too paranoid to let anyone find out. And things just kinda stayed like that, for awhile. And then sometime in December, of last year I decided to give that same fic another read, and something just kinda, fucking snapped?

I went up and down the Junkan Tag on AO3, reading whatever I could, I was reading stuff I wouldn’t have ever risked reading with variable amounts of success. I only skipped a small handful of fics, including one that we’ll come back to way later in the project. Everything else I was scraping even the smallest crumb of fic to read at times. After that I scoured the tumblr tags, taking in whatever soft art or headcanons that I could, I went to Fanfiction.net, a website I still barely know how to fuckin’ navigate to try and find ANYTHING. I went to Deviantart to try and find any art or fics, no results not helped by the fact that it would include results that were slightly related. And not to sound like a Youtuber with no personality who’s built their career on punching down at whoever they can because otherwise their audience would see they’re a complete shell of a human being, but it being deviantart you can imagine what I was finding more often on that search. 

I even went to Wattpad, and that ones it’s own mini story that I’m saving for Tomorrow because the art for Tomorrow doesn’t have a lot of talking points on it’s own like this one does. But Wattpad had no fuckin results either.

I cannot remember the last time I had ever been this obsessed with a ship, this desperate. So, 100 Days of Junkan began, even if it wasn’t planned to be this big project. All cause of this fic turning a switch in my brain with a hammer.

Hey look we’re talking about the fic again, I told you this was gonna incoherent.

Anyway so the fic is just, perfect? To me at least? Before I had even realized why I liked the ship in the first place it did everything that I love about it at it’s core. It practically set the standard for the ship in my brain, at bare minimum within the context of a Non-Despair AU. And overtime as Val’s continued to write for these two her portrayals of the character are practically just how I view them at this point.

It’s not 1 to 1 but you can likely trace every aspect of how I portray Junko and Mikan whether through art or writing back to Val’s writing, down to even using certain pet names for the characters because of their usage in her work. I’d worry that I’m being way too much, heaping an overbearing amount of praise and respect. But also this fic unintentionally sent me careening into the direction of drawing 150+ Junkan pictures, learning various new skills and techniques as an artist, rekindled my love of writing (despite the horrors of actually having to write), making new friends both in and out of this community including some who I consider close, coping with mental health issues, and then performing this gigantic project at the tail end of the year. So I might actually be underselling this a bit in actuality. And don’t worry when I get to talking about a few other fics later in the project I’ll be doing my best to give equal praise to them as well, it’s just gonna be a bit sdlahfljasdfhas.

I’ve already said it but the fic has everything, at least of the core reasons I love this ship from the non-abusive perspective that this blog has built its foundation on.

To me I love Junkan because it’s two people that could not be anymore different from one another, who arguably should despise one another finding happiness in each other. It adds a new layer of depth to Junko to ponder how someone like her, whether in canon or in a non-despair AU like this could fall in genuine love with a total wreck like Mikan and how that would affect her character. It’s fluffy moments of Mikan getting to be genuinely happy for what might be the first time in her life while Junko showers her with affection. It’s Junko being fucking hilarious while Mikan can barely keep up with her humor and teasing because she’s so flustered. It’s Junko grappling with newfound emotions. It’s Junko and Mikan bringing out the best in each other and inciting positive change through their influence. It’s that perfect blend of hurt/comfort. And so much more beyond that, all contained in this one god damn fic. I might even be forgetting things I like about the ship too, there’s just so much that goes into this!

Obviously this is all specifically in a Non-Despair context, the Evil Girlfriends angle has a myriad of other reasons to enjoy the ship which I’ve become fond of. Especially in some of the parallels it can have with a non-Toxic Yuri angle of things. But that doesn’t really apply for today’s subject and I’m not someone who’s deeply knowledgeable or equipped to sing its praises at the moment. Maybe in the future though?

Is there anything else I can yammer on about with this fic? Uhhhh- Oh. I love how it uses the supporting cast. I think Val has a really excellent grasp on how to write Mukuro and Junko’s dynamic without dipping into the territory of DR3 where it just gets a bit uncomfortable. I think that’s better exemplified in one of her other fics rather than this story, but I still do love Mukuro’s portrayal and role in the story. This was my first time learning who Yasuke was, I hadn’t properly heard of Danganronpa Zero by this point so I was really confused as to who the hell he was. Certainly left a strong impression in the story though. I think Kaede’s sudden appearance and role in the plot progressing towards the stunning climax of Chapter 4 was really good! 

I very often go back to Chapter 1, 4, and 5 whenever I need to go to relax before bed. I’ve reread this fic multiple times as a whole but an absolute fuck ton of times as separated pieces, they’re so god damn soothing on my mind. 

The fact that I haven’t left giant fuckin’ comments on any chapter of that fic is quite frankly one of my deepest sins, but one of these days I’m gonna buckle down and write up on those because they deserve every ounce of praise in my scrawny lil whitegirl body. 

I think I’ve said everything I can for now but even now I feel like I haven’t gotten across how much I love this fic. It genuinely is my favorite fanfiction out there both just for the quality of it’s writing and the comically massive influence it had on my life this year. If you somehow haven’t read it by now, please do, if you like the art I’ve drawn of this ship over the past 60 days I can almost 100% guarantee that you’ll like this story. And read the rest of Val’s fics too! Please! 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[nekropsii]

Atomic Ask Bomb... 2!!

Hello, all! We are back in the mines immediately, because you all love me and my inbox so much. I still have 200+ more asks to sort through after this and that is not hyperbole!! Oops!!

Content Warning: Long, and Cronus is There.

You can be both. I am both. I think Terezi's easily in the Top 3 of Best Written Homestuck Characters, no competition. AND she compels me.

Mituna Fans and Terezi Fans flocking together like how Gays and Lesbians are supposed to.

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He doesn't have a Recuperacoon. He doesn't NEED a Recuperacoon. Who needs a Recuperacoon when you have a bathtub? You pile a bunch of slime in there, and then you can pop the drain open in the morning and take a shower right there where you just got up. It's convenient. And not at all sad. It's not sad guys.

Let's pretend for a moment that either Vantas would have regular bathing habits for the sake of this joke.

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Even if that's the case, it really doesn't change anything. Insecurity doesn't justify literal actual sexual harassment and sexual assault. What?

People will do anything to excuse random shitty men for being shitty. Sympathy is the favorite weapon in Fandom Misogyny's arsenal. So often will fans pull some random bullshit out of their ass just to say that it's fine that a male character is abusive, especially if it's to women, because "He's Sad", so he should never face criticism or punishment for his actions.

We should all start putting people in blenders. We've let these arguments go on long enough. People are far too bold in their abuse apologia. We need to kill them.

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Yeah. Like, he interests me a lot, he's one of the characters I take the most interest in out of all of the Alpha Trolls. I literally write sov!Cronus. I hate his guts, though. It really is just that easy to be a fan of a character and also fucking hate them. Not once have I ever made an excuse for him. The goal Hussie set out for when writing him was making him inexcusable and irredeemable, down to Cronus literally knowing what he's doing is bad and hurts people, and simply just not caring.

Cronus is genuinely fucking evil. That's the whole point. If you make him misunderstood, if you make him mean well, if you make him lack self awareness, if you make him sympathetic, if you give him any redeeming qualities at all... You are missing the point completely. If you want a sympathetic asshole character, you want Vriska. The point of Cronus is that he's The Worst Character In Homestuck, and that he has zero redeeming qualities and trying to fix him or redeem him is a Hopeless venture. He is beyond saving. Don't you dare even think about trying - to try to make him palatable is to erase Violent Bigotry, Incest, and Child Sexual Abuse. Just don't. Enjoy him as he is, do NOT defang him.

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He truly is the worst! I think we should explode all depictions of fanon!Cronus. Forever.

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Yeah, there's a huge reason why I do not say I'm a fan of Cronus or call him a favorite character of mine or anything. It projects a certain... Image. The wrong one. There's just such a strong precedent for anyone saying they're a Cronus Fan or calling him their Favorite Character being a person who just completely fucking ignores everything about him, or even pardons it, saying it's fine, actually, because He's Sad, or that it's Not That Bad, actually. I can't stand it.

I'm aware there are Cronus Fans who are totally normal, but I cannot help but immediately be wary of them, or flinch for a moment even when they offer the reassurance that they know better. It's a natural response, having been here for around a decade and having been a Mituna Fan the whole time.

Liking characters who are terrible people is fine. Based, even, in some cases. But... It's truly difficult with Cronus, because so much of that fanbase relies on excusing/minimizing/condoning abuse and bigotry. I don't have any qualms with people liking characters that suck, but when a fanbase for a character is so heavily focused on pretending that character isn't a horrible, terrible, awful person who abuses people - even children, even people they're related to, even children that they're related to - for nothing but their own sexual gain... I start having issues. That sets a pretty dangerous precedent, to me.

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It's crazy to me how so much of the apologism is because he's hot. Because he literally isn't. You all have terrible taste.

Let's all appreciate for a moment just how fucking ugly he is. The fan art is lying so bad. He needs a haircut. His shirt doesn't fit him, and honestly looks like women's clothes - you know those women's shirts that have the sleeves that stop halfway down the damn shoulder? He looks like a 16 year old. He's so skinny, and his shoulders are so... rounded and small - which are fine traits to have, but literally every piece of fanart portrays him as broad-shouldered and ripped when the literal opposite is true. You just know he has too much product in his hair. His actual sprite is even worse.

The way his fly doesn't even go all the way up. The way his hair clips into his face. The way he's slightly yellow for literally no reason. The shitty belt. This fucking sucks. He's so ugly. He isn't even hot.

------

------

Mituna having Memory Loss as a result of his TBI is literally a myth invented by Cronus to emotionally manipulate Mituna and perpetuated by Cronus Fans. I think if they were friends in the past, Cronus's actions would be worse, actually.

Could you imagine getting sad that your friend doesn't remember you because of a Traumatic Brain Injury, and your response to this sadness is to abuse and sexually assault them on the regular? What, is that Just Bro Things now? Cronus literally says he targets Mituna because he thinks he can get away with it due to his struggles with communication. The thing about them being buddies in the past was one of his trademark Lies. Because he is known to do that, specifically to manipulate people. Because he is known to manipulate people. Emotionally. Because he is abusive. And terrible. And not redeemable. This isn't rocket science! It isn't rocket science to say that pushing the fault of Mituna's abuse onto Mituna is Victim-Blaming!

------

Positively fucking ridiculous that so many people did not recognize their romance within the comic. If they were boys, there'd be no god damn question about it. It'd be up there in everyone's OTP list alongside DaveKat.

I think they're adorable. They're one of my favorite pairings.

------

It's great in the source comic, especially during earlier phases of its existence, but the quality deprecates drastically the further you get from that point. I hate it in Fanon and in Dub/Post-Canon.

It's a great off-screen pairing for a lot of lore reasons - namely it being great to let Dave slowly allow himself to love and be loved in private, with no fear of eyes on him. He's never really been able to have privacy before, with all the cameras and eyes on him all the time, and he's never been able to really let his guard down and be vulnerable. He's never been able to love and be loved, safely. I ultimately think they should've kept their relationship mostly private, even after Dave's recovered quite a bit, because sometimes having something just for yourself without that need to perform it is healing in itself. Mental health maintenance.

In Fanon, it seems like pretty standard yaoi, though. Boring. Tired. Literally everywhere. Voyeuristic as always.

------

Thank you! My Inbox generally really isn't that bad at all, honestly! Most people are pretty cordial! Anon Hate for me is pretty rare. Thankfully, the Delete Ask button exists, so I don't have to worry about those Anons for very long, lol.

------

I hate to say this, but back in my day, plenty of people actually did do that. In fact, people only knowing Homestuck through fan material and then still calling themselves a fan is a big reason why old Homestuck fanon was so bad and so far off the mark!

I have a name for those kinds of fans, because it was such a frequent occurrence it begged for a title. I call them Secondaries. Like "Secondary Source"!

------

World's most based triad, I think. Should be real. It's real to me.

7H15 15 MY 91RLFR13NF, L47UL4. 4DN 7H51 15 7UL45 9R1LFR13ND, P0RR1M.

------

I think everyone should start watching actual horror movies. I think these people should watch Re-Animator and Bride of Re-Animator. I think this would fix the fandom, because a lot of people are just posting about horror movies without realizing they're posting about horror movies. Go watch a horror movie. They even have more and, frankly, more interesting gay representation than... Whatever Dirk and Jake have going on. Sorry.

If you're a gay man, get some hair on your chest and watch a bunch of horror movies. There's more in this life than anime twinks and skinny white pixel men. There's BlackRom Old Man Pet Play (The Lighthouse, 2019), there's Tormented Huge Dirty Bear (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, 2006), there's The Bisexual Psychological Torture + Betrayal Chamber (Saw, 2004), there's Dysfunctional Gay Marriage Disputes (Re-Animator, 1985, Bride of Re-Animator, 1990). And way more other ones than I can really list. Expand your horizons.

------

Not much. It's a bit mysterious. Here's what Aranea had to say about Mituna in general, which gives us most of the crumbs we have:

The Heir of Doom was once a powerful psionic. He had much to say when it came to warning us a8out the path of doom and destruction we were all headed for, 8ut no one took him very seriously. 8ut one day he lost all those abilities when he 8adly overexerted himself. It's hard to get any specifics from him, 8ut indications are that he applied every last 8it of energy he had toward some great act of heroism, saving us all from some looming threat. Not only did his exertion permanently 8urn out his psychic a8ilities, 8ut it left him somewhat... er. Incoherent. The entire incident is shrouded in mystery. From his limited and scattered accounts of what happened, it seems very likely that Kurloz was with him at the time, as the only eye witness. And of course it's impossi8le to get any relia8le information out of him. I guess we may never know, sadly.

This does say quite a lot, but not really anything specific. We've got some stuff about how he's the session's Cassandra, the fact that the GAoH was NOT an accident (this is the misconception that pisses me off the most, I think - I hate when people call it an accident), the fact that he was protecting everyone from something... The fact that he DOES remember it, the fact that Kurloz was there, as the only eye witness, and refuses to talk about it.

It leaves plenty of room for speculation. A little too much room for me, honestly, but that's fine, I'm not really pressed about it.

------

[mrsdesade]

a kiss for a genius

ofc some Homelander x Ophera silly stuff because I'll never get tired of writing absurd kinda romantic dialogues between them

tw: no one

??? words

The living room of the penthouse was unusually quiet.

Ophera sat sprawled dramatically on the velvet sofa, her legs thrown over the armrest, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended her. A record she no longer cared to hear anymore spun quietly in the background. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she wore one of those ridiculously expensive robes Vought insisted she parade around in for brand deals.

“I’m bored.” she declared with a sigh that could've ended wars. “Utterly, irrevocably bored. And not just bored. Creatively constipated.”

Across the room, Homelander leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping something that could barely qualify as cold tea with milk inside. He was only half-listening — until that last phrase made him glance up, brow raised.

“Creatively… what?”

“You heard me.” she groaned, waving a limp hand. “My last tour ended with three encores and a standing ovation in Dubai. I should feel fulfilled. Inspired. But no, I’m just—flat. Like a bottle of champagne left open overnight.”

Homelander let out a snort. “You're very poetic when you're miserable.”

“I’m serious!” she said, sitting up suddenly. “I’ve done everything. The shows, the albums, the charity singles with other washed-up Supes who think they're rockstars. And none of it is clicking. I need something new. Something bold. Something—”

"You know, not everything has to be completely new and innovative. Sometimes, it's okay to go with something…traditional. Just to make money and maintain popularity points high."

"Like what?"

"There's the talk shows, the interviews, the meet&greets…and those are the obvious ones. You could always get involved in something like a fashion line, or even a damn book."

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, completely casual, not even looking at her as he stirred his drink. “Write a book. About your life. People love that crap. You’ve got the whole rise-fall-redemption arc. Throw in some tragic glamour and a sprinkle of violence—you’re basically a bestseller already.”

There was a long, stunned silence. Then—

“You absolute genius." she breathed, her tone a mix of disbelief and awe. “Oh my god, you’re right. That’s—actually brilliant.”

And then she said it. Half-laughing, half caught in the burst of inspiration. “Homelander, you’re a genius. I could kiss you for this idea!”

He blinked. Slowly. The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m sorry.” he said, voice low. “Could you repeat that? I think I misheard.”

Ophera, still perched on the sofa, suddenly sat a little straighter, realization dawning in her expression like a slow horror. “I… did not say that.”

“You absolutely did.” he said, now walking over with exaggerated casualness. “You said—let me quote this correctly—‘I could kiss you for this idea'." He mimed air quotes with one hand, sipping from his mug with the other.

“I was obviously being sarcastic.” she said quickly.

“That didn’t sound sarcastic.”

“Well, it was. You’re misinterpreting it.”

He tilted his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Hmm. I don’t know, Ophera. Sounded like genuine praise. And from you? That’s rare air.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” she muttered, standing now and brushing off her robe as if to physically erase the moment. “Besides, you gave me an idea. That doesn’t mean you get… perks.”

His grin grew dangerously wide. “So you do think of kissing me as a perk.”

“Jesus Christ.” she hissed under her breath, spinning away toward the bar to get a drink. “This is exactly why I don’t talk to you when I’m sleep-deprived and artistically frustrated.”

“But it’s interesting.” he said, following her like a predator who’d just caught the scent of something interesting. “That little crack in your cool exterior? That rare moment of ‘oops, I forgot I hate you’?”

“I don’t hate you.” she shot back over her shoulder. “I just like not liking you most of the time. It’s better for my mental health.”

He chuckled. “And yet… I’m the genius you want to kiss.”

“Wanted to. Past tense. The moment’s gone.”

“Aw.” he said with exaggerated disappointment. “You sure? No spontaneous gratitude? Maybe just a polite thank-you kiss on the—”

“Finish that sentence and I will erase you from this world.”

He followed her outside on the balcony, looking insufferably pleased with himself. “Oh come on. You fantasize about kissing me.”

“You fantasize about me fantasizing about kissing you.” she corrected. “That’s very different.”

“That...” he replied, eyes lighting up like someone had just pitched the perfect blockbuster tagline. “...sounds like a multiverse loop I’d gladly get trapped in.”

Ophera blinked at him, slowly, like her brain was buffering through sheer disbelief. “Have you ever heard yourself?”

“Yes.” he said without missing a beat, resting a hand against the balcony railing with a deliberately dramatic pose. “Sexy, right?”

“Deeply concerning.”

“Admit it—you’re into it.”

She gave him a long, narrow-eyed look, lips pressing together as if debating whether to respond or just launch herself off the penthouse to escape. “You're repetitive, sounds like a Vought-branded vibrator commercial.”

He straightened, beaming like a kid who just got a gold star. “Maybe that’s why mine sell so well.”

Ophera nearly choked on her drink. She coughed once, loudly, then pointed a warning finger at him with a glare. “One more word and I swear I will toss you off this balcony.”

Homelander leaned forward slightly, eyes glittering with playfulness and absolutely no fear. “Would you cradle me dramatically in mid-air to save my life afterward?”

“Only to drop you again.”

“Wow." he murmured, and that was it—she turned her entire body to him, ready to throw something more substantial than threats.

“I knew you were broken, but I didn’t realize the factory forgot to install the shame setting.”

“They did.” he agreed cheerfully. “But they overcompensated with jawline and charisma.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m compelling.”

“Exhausting.”

“Irresistible.”

She stared at him. He stared right back.

“Do you ever just… shut up?” she asked flatly.

He placed a hand on his chest, mock-wounded. “Do you ever stop thinking about kissing me?”

Her jaw dropped. “You absolute—!”

Before she could finish that sentence, he was already turning around, arms outstretched like he was on stage, performing to an invisible audience of devoted fans.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called out to no one. “We’ve reached the point in the evening where the temptress denies her desire!”

“Oh my god—” she muttered into her hands.

He spun to face her again, grinning. “Do you want me to pretend to be shocked when you finally cave and kiss me, or should I prepare a victory speech?”

“Prepare for the restraining order.”

“But imagine the headlines!” he insisted. “‘Power couple rekindles romance over literary brilliance and sexual tension.’”

Ophera turn beside the decorative balcony sofa and threw a pillow at him. He caught it effortlessly—as usual—with a little bow. “Missed me.”

“On purpose.”

“Lies.” He walked closer, not too close, but just enough for her to notice the way his voice dipped a little. “You like this.”

“I like silence.”

“You like me in it.”

Her lips parted to argue—only to close again with an almost inaudible sound of frustration. He’d cornered her with logic, or at least whatever passed for it in his ego-ridden mind.

He smiled. A real one this time. Not teasing, not gloating. Just… amused. Soft around the edges. “You’re the only one who gets to talk to me like this, you know.”

“You mean insult you?”

“Yeah.” he nodded. “No one else dares. Not really.”

Ophera rolled her eyes but felt that tiny shift—the air going from ridiculous to real in half a second. That was always the problem with him. He was a tornado of absurdity and danger, and yet… somehow, he always managed to slip in those moments where she almost remembered why she ever cared in the first place.

“…I’m still not kissing you.” she muttered, turning back toward the city lights.

He grinned behind her. “Sure. Just keep fantasizing about it, then.”

She reached blindly for another pillow.

He bolted.

“You can run, but I’ve got aim like a god.” Ophera called, still holding the pillow threateningly as Homelander ducked behind a marble column near the penthouse window.

“You throw like a very attractive kitten!” he shouted back.

“That’s not even an insult!”

“Exactly!” There was a short silence as she tiptoed, pillow in hand, around the corner—only to find that he had vanished again.

“I swear to God, if you’re hovering above me—”

“I’m not!” he said. “Okay, maybe a little.”

She glanced up. He was, in fact, floating just a few feet above, lounging mid-air like he’d been born inside a gravity-defying chaise longue.

“I hate you.” she said, laughing despite herself.

“No you don’t.”

He floated down slowly, theatrically, like he was descending from Mount Olympus to deliver a dramatic monologue. Except instead of grand philosophy, he landed right in front of her with: “So, which part of your fantasy involves the balcony again?”

“None of them, you egomaniac.”

“Because I’ve got some ideas—”

She placed a hand over his mouth.

“Stop while you’re behind.”

His eyes didn’t leave hers. Even as she tried not to look at his mouth. Or his jawline. Or the way his ridiculous cape was draped half over her arm now like some possessive creature.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she accused.

“More than I should.”

“Homelander…” she warned, already hearing the smug inhale he was about to take.

“You said my name like it was dessert.”

“I said it like a threat.”

“Same thing If you say it slowly enough.”

“I might throw a glass at you this time.”

“Still counts as foreplay.”

Ophera sighed, exasperated and vaguely amused, swirling the last sip in her glass before setting it down on the marble table beside them. She turned to face him fully now, her arms crossed under her chest, her expression sharp and unreadable—except to him, maybe. He knew that look.

And just when he was about to poke at it—goad her into another round of banter—she said it. Softly.

“If I kiss you now…” she began, her voice tinged with something heavier, something quieter, “…I know I won’t be able to go back.”

That stopped him.

The smirk faded slowly from his lips, replaced by something that almost resembled reverence. His eyes flicked from hers down to her mouth, and back again. And for once, he didn’t know what to say. She’d taken the lead, cracked the teasing tension with something real—and for a man who could bench press a tank, the weight of her words nearly knocked the wind out of him.

He cleared his throat.

She moved, stepping in close. Not quite touching him, but close enough that he could feel the heat off her skin. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, you always do. You think I’ll fall right into your lap if you smirk long enough or say the right thing in that arrogant voice of yours. But this—us—if I give in, it won’t be some throwaway moment you can grin about later.”

His jaw ticked. “I wouldn’t—”

“I know.” she cut him off. “That’s the problem.”

Her fingers brushed against his chest, just barely—a test, maybe. Her gaze dropped to his mouth for a breath, then returned to his eyes with something stormy and magnetic.

“And I swear to God, if you make one joke right now about my lips being your kryptonite or some Vought-approved nonsense, I will walk straight out of this room.”

He raised both hands in mock surrender, lips twitching. “I was going to say something about you being my brand-new weakness but—okay, okay. No jokes. Just standing here. Absolutely terrified.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Terrified?”

“Yeah.” He leaned in slightly, voice lowering. “Terrified that If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to start monologuing like The Deep on his podcast.”

Ophera groaned and muttered. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“I’m not! I’m being vulnerable. Look—” He took a tiny half-step forward, just enough that their fronts brushed. “No jokes. No smirks. Just… kiss me. Or don’t. But you’re not the only one who won’t come back from it.”

Her hands slid up, slow and deliberate, to frame his face. The tips of her fingers brushed just beneath his ears, curling into his hair. He went still—completely, unnaturally still for someone who vibrated with raw power. His breath caught. She wasn’t playing. Neither of them were. Her lips ghosted over his. Barely a touch. Just a taste. She pulled back slightly, her eyes half-lidded and sharp.

“Last chance.” she whispered.

His voice was hoarse. “I forgot every word I’ve ever known.”

She smiled, just barely. And then, finally, she kissed him.

It wasn’t innocent. Not even close. It was molten. Like opening a sealed vault of heat that had been slowly pressurizing for months, maybe years. Homelander kissed her back like a man famished—not desperate, but starved of something very specific that only she could give.

His hands found her waist, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress, thumbs brushing slow circles. She deepened the kiss with a sound caught between a sigh and a growl, and he answered with a low hum of satisfaction, almost smug again—almost.

She bit his lower lip lightly.

“You’re smirking again.” she warned, breathless.

“I’m trying not to. It’s a medical condition now.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re—” He dropped his mouth to her neck, voice brushing the skin there. “—kissing me like you’ve wanted to kill me and marry me in the same day.”

She muttered. “Oh shut up.” but her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him back up to meet her eyes.

The air around them felt electric, charged. His cape fluttered slightly from the breeze. She leaned her forehead against his, their breath shared and shaky.

“Just so you know.” she said quietly “If this ends with us tangled in expensive sheets and regretting everything by sunrise…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I’ll still write about you in the acknowledgments section of my book.”

He laughed—genuinely. Then he dipped down again, brushing his lips just over the corner of her mouth.

“I’ll take it.” he whispered.

She let him kiss her again, slower this time. The kind of kiss that promised more. That suggested a bedroom nearby, and clothing optional. That warned of sleepless hours ahead and way too many complications in the morning.

[bitkahuna]

“Blaise Zabini?” Ron asked in a harsh whisper. “Mate, why?”

Hermione soon made her way through the fleeting crowd of girls to join him. “Please tell me there was a good reason.”

“Zabini doesn’t care about the war. Not like they do. Not like we do. He just wants to survive.”

"Of course he does, he's a Slytherin!" Ron interjected, his voice tinged with disbelief. "And not just any Slytherin, his mum's been through husbands like she’s browsing shoes."

Harry suppressed a sigh; this was exactly the reaction he had anticipated but hoped to avoid. "That’s exactly why he’s perfect." He urged, his voice low and earnest. "Zabini is only interested in surviving this mess. He stays neutral because picking a side is a huge risk to him."

Hermione gave a slow nod, trying her best to understand. “Is this a smart move?”

-----

“One, what happens here stays here. This party never happened! Two, no violence. You fight, you’re done. You duel, you’re done. You break anything, you’re done. Three, keep your filthy hands to yourselves until you’re out of sight. Four, do not be a dick! And I will be the judge, jury, and executioner of what rule four means. Now, welcome to Beauxbatons!”

-----

Harry didn’t trust a damn thing coming out of the other boy’s mouth. He was supposed to practically be Draco’s boyfriend, even if only a distraction, according to Blaise, and yet he’d spent all of the Yule Ball stealing people’s dates and not talking to Draco once. And now he was chatting up the lad he knew Draco hated the most.

-----

“I’m probably going to end up dead.”

“Shut up, Potter.” Draco managed to speak his name without making it sound like poison. He sounded just as tired as Harry.

“I’m not wrong.” He pointed out with a bitter laugh. But he really, really didn’t want to stop kissing the other boy. “This is shit coping.”

“Is that why you’re whoring around, snogging everyone?”

“Of course it is!” He nearly shouted as if it should be obvious. Harry leaned his head back against the tree, taking a deep breath. “I have no idea how this Tournament is going to end.”

-----

“Easy now.” Harry managed a chuckle, trying to regain his composure while pushing away the gnawing guilt at enjoying the attention. He was aware of how superficial it all was, but he couldn’t help himself. They didn’t like him. They liked what he represented; his status and the rumors. But it made him feel good.

The Durmstrang girl only shrugged. “Not everyone can say they kissed a champion.”

Harry felt wanted.

Some kisses were lingering and soft, others sweet and shy, and a few were quite bold. Why not try and lay claim on having a moment with The Boy Who Lived, Hogwarts’ Champion? For some, it was a dream come true; for others, a fleeting chance at his fame and glory. But they would never forget it. Neither would he.

Harry felt slightly overwhelmed and his stomach churned a bit. But he liked it. Even if it was meaningless, it meant the world to him. The girls passed him around like a candy bar they all wanted a bite of. A fleeting kiss and he was passed on to the next while the girls bragged that they got to kiss him, talking about him as if he wasn’t even there.

-----

“Go on, then. I know there’s a password.”

Draco rolled his eyes, playful, but a bit disappointed. “Pureblood.” And the entrance revealed itself.

Harry nearly scoffed at how stupid the password was. “Goodnight, Draco.” He insisted, letting the boy go.

The blond looked bewildered as he stood there, a hand on the wall to steady himself. “What did you call me?”

He blinked before his lips parted in shock. He hadn’t even realized he called the other boy by his first name. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Say it again.”

The entrance to the common room closed.

-----

Chapter 24 of Scion just posted!!! There was an afterparty after the Yule Ball, right? Right?? Oops.

[nova-reaper-universe]

Aus at the theme park featuring @empanadastheresurrection’s Pinky and @wafflestar’s Nora

Uni: Alright everyone, remember, be responsible, no weapons, have fun! Remember, this is a peaceful place where… PINKY HOW DID YOU SNEAK A BONG?

Pinky: Easily

Uni: Just put it inside of Lion and we can take it out after we get out or in a DEDICATED SMOKING AREA AWAY FROM SPOOKY, WHO HAS A HEART CONDITION

Pinky: Oops, forgot about that one

Uni: NORA YOU CAN’T JUST STEAL FROM BOOTHS, THOSE ARE TO WIN

Spooky: I won it for her

Uni: I was TALKING, how did you even win that so fast?

Spooky: The birthday game landed on April twice so I got this one for her

Nora: Yeah, that was rude, but I don’t want this right now

*Spooky puts the stuffed animal in Lion for later*

Uni: Okay, we understand the ru- wait, where is Spooky?

Pinky: Over there, he said he wanted to find a sensory room because it was getting loud from all the buzzers going off

Uni: OMG HIS DAD TOLD ME NOT TO LET THIS HAPPEN! HE HAS A HEART CONDITION DAMMIT, WE NEED TO LOOK FOR HIM

Spooky: I have an Apple AirTag on me now because???

Uni: You literally eloped on us twice in the past hour, we need to get going if we want to ride some rides

Nora, with some cotton candy: What’s first?

Spooky: Where did you get that? I want some

Pinky: We got it from the other end of the park, you didn’t notice?

Uni: There’s another stall over here, or there’s chocolate ice cream over there

Spooky: I want the ice cream

Nora: I want some too

Uni: You already have cotton candy

Pinky: Are you going to let this poor, food deprived girl be deprived of more food just because she already has something that is not going to fill her stomach much? I thought you were better than this, Detective

Uni: Ugh, fine, then we go on a ride

*Coming off of the drop tower*

Nora: That was not scary at all

Spooky: Ok, you want the Gengar now?

Nora: Fine, if that’s going to make you feel better about the ride *cuddles it as soon as Spooky takes it out*

Uni: Okay, that was a great first ride! What’s next?

Pinky, pointing to the scariest roller coaster ever: That one

Uni: Are you sure? Nora is just-

Nora: DON’T PATRONIZE ME ASSHOLE

Uni: PINKY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN TEACHING HER?

Pinky: Survival skills

Uni: THIS IS NOT A SURVIVAL SKILL

Pinky: Whatever, you heard her, let’s go

Uni: Wait, now both Spooky and Nora are missing… THE AIRTAG SAYS THEY ARE ALREADY AT THE RIDE??? I TOLD HIM NOT TO TAKE HIS LION PLACES

Spooky: We’ve been waiting here, what took you so long? You know I can’t do long standing lines

Uni: You are SITTING ON A BENCH! Also, Pinky and I couldn’t both fit on Lion so we just walked

Nora: Why couldn’t you have taken turns?

Uni: That’s not the point, the point is that we are supposed to stay together because you might have a heart attack and I might die to Pearl if I am not there to take you home, and you might get the bold idea bite someone instead of asking them to help Mr. I Wanna Have A Heart Attack Without Help here

Spooky: If it was so pressing then why not take Lion?

Uni: I can’t trust Pinky unattended, is that what you want to hear?

Pinky: Fair, I’d probably do something not approved by Mr. Detective over here

Nora: Whatever, I just want on the ride

*The end of the day, after a lot of rides and the works*

Nora: I want the stuff you got today, P will like it

Spooky: Okay, I will probably have to bring it to you because you can’t carry all this

Nora: No, I got a storage device for this, I’ll bring it

Spooky: Oh, I guess I’ll ask the diamonds for something like that next time I see them

Uni: You need help pu-

Nora No, I’m fine, stop treating me like a useless human

Uni: Wow, okay, I should probably work on that language

Pinky, whispers: It’s fine for now, you need to remember the situation at home

*Nora finishes putting all the stuffed animals in her storage device*

Nora: I’m heading home, bye

Spooky: Me too

Pinky: Me as well

Uni: Okay, bye everyone!

[weaverpop]

Can I offer a situation?

One of mk's ex's has been harassing him

I would think mk would of apologized to the partners that broke things off cause of how he was acting in the past and for most they forgave him. But there could always be the one who didn't want to forgive or acknowledge his sincere efforts to grow. And then theres of course the ones from relationships where the partner was the problem.

Said ex more maybe two got bitter seeing him happy in a new relationship and with a prince no less, and they start spamming him with abusive messages from a variety of different accounts.

Mk is of course alarmed and pretty distressed but doesn't want to alarm nezha so he does his best to hide it. But it quickly goes from abusive language and attacking his insecurities to straight up threatening to bash him publicly as an abusive partner; sighting his past problematic behavior with some exaggerating details and even straight up making crap up.

It sends mk into an intense depressive episode because he's starting to believe and misremember details. He wants to tell nezha but wants to try to resolve it first and goes to mei first since she's scary good when it comes to find ppl via social media sleuthing skills.

Nezha ends up find out anyway though because the ex got bold and decided to uphold there threat and contacted him directly.

Oh man, why you gotta hurt my heart anon?! (Tw angst, sensitive topics, and bad languages)

Poor Mk. I would imagine this happening early on in the therapy era, where Mk and Nezha are still struggling to get their feet back under them and establish a new (more healthy) normal. Mk be trying to just live his life, until said ex’s contact him. I don’t think it would be the ones where Mk was the toxic one, those are the ones who generally just want to move on. But one of HIS bad exes would def do something drastic.

They would see him rise in the public view already (hero stuff), so to see him so open and public with Nezha, a PRINCE, has them seething. Messaging, spamming, the works. MK’s mental health would take a big hit, and he actually talks either Sandy in therapy about it first.

Sandy is the one to suggest going to Mei, and def about telling the others just in case. Mk does, but wants to maybe tell Nezha after the whole things blown over so as not to worry him. Until said exes contact Nezha.

Nezha, of course, ain’t buying shit. In fact, it only serves to piss him off. Nobody in the mortal realm was really aware of the JE’s passing until Nezha decides to find these exes. You know why they find out?

Because Nezha has them dragged into the streets via guards, and publicly demands to know why they would dare threaten the lover of the next Jade emperor (aka him). Mei has all the evidence against the two, and the mortal police have to beg the prince not to cause an international crisis. The two exes have, at this point, realized the grave miscalculation they’ve made and are panicking just a a tad.

Thankfully Mk shows up and convinces Nezha to let the police handle it. The exes are arrested, and reporters and paparazzi catch Mk soothing Nezha’s anger. Their approval ratings in the public eye EXPLODES after this.

Of course it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. Mk still gets stuck it a bit of a rut because of them, and while no other exes have come forth after Nezha’s public display, it doesn’t stop the paranoia. Poor baby’s got a date with more therapy after this. But at least things are smooth sailing right? Not like Nezha’s got any exes to dig up.

Oops, did I say that? I meant Ao Bing has an absolute fit. :)

[marionluth]

Work 3 of "In Their Defense" series is up 🤘

“How about leaving some of them alive?” Jessica yelled at Red Hood through the chaos.

“I’ve only killed five,” Red Hood deadpaned. “Oops. Make that six. But you can fucking bet, I'm gonna end you if you try to take the stuff!”

“Bold of you to assume you can kill me,” Jessica snarled, driving her fist into an assailant’s jaw. “I’ll fuse your helmet to your face before you can even think of reaching for those crates!”

Red Hood studied her fighting style from the corner of his eye, as he was busy stabbing his attackers. She was strong and more of a brawler than a strategic fighter. Every now and then he noticed a more sophisticated kick or throw, which indicated she had some sort of training, but mostly she just beat up the goons street-style. And he fucking liked it.

Turning to point the knife in her direction, Red Hood closed the distance between them menacingly. “Who are you working for?”

Jessica kicked his wrist with measured force, resisting the urge to break it. He was useful for now. His knife flew right out of his grip. “Who are you working for?” She asked.

“Nobody! I’m Red Hood! People are working for me,” he ground out, landing three consecutive punches to her ribs that made her wince and groan, but didn’t particularly affect her. Red Hood was impressed. These should have broken ribs.

Turning her attention to a goon coming at her from behind as another attempted to tackle her from the side, Jessica fought them off, attention split between them and Red Hood. “So, you want this shit for yourself? To sell it, make money, kill half the city?”

With the goons beaten to a pulp, she turned to fully face him again and landed a punch to his stomach, causing him to double over and grunt in pain.

“What the fuck are you on about?” He shot up, landing a hard punch to her jaw packing his full force. It looked like it jarred her a bit. Red Hood was annoyed he couldn’t overpower her and at the same time savored the challenge. “This shit is Black Mask’s! He’s my number one enemy. I’m here to destroy it!”

Jessica’s fist, drawn back ready to fly to his helmet-covered face, froze. She looked at him annoyedly. “I’m here to destroy it, too!”

Red Hood stood still, staring at her. “You don’t wanna steal it to sell it?”

“Do I strike you as a fucking drug dealer, Red?” Jessica snapped.

“You really want me to answer that?” Catching some movement behind him, he took a grenade out of a holster and threw it in that general direction without breaking eye contact with Jessica.

An explosion. A howl of pain.

“Seriously?” Jessica asked him, gesturing to the three men he blasted.

“What? Close-quarters grens. They’ll live!”

“So I am to really buy that the severed-heads-in-a-duffel villain is not here to steal the drugs and distribute them himself?” Jessica asked, eyes scanning the space around her, slightly panting.

“Whose heads do you think I had in the duffel? Black Mask’s lieutenants! I’m here to cost the fucker a few million dollars and send a message through his battered goons!”

“Well, so am I!” Jessica informed him accusingly. “And you got in my fucking way!”

“You got in my fucking way!”

“Are you bulletproof?” Jessica asked.

Red hood blinked under the helmet. “What?”

Rolling her eyes she lunged at him, taking him down with her, as Scar shot at them with the M16 he had snatched from the unconscious goon Red Hood had taken down earlier.

Laying on top of him, face inches from his helmet, Jessica smirked. “You alright, princess?”

Check it out here! I'd be thrilled if you left a comment and even more thrilled if you enjoyed it enough to hit reblog 😊