#some of this is in the process of being a fic

[miceandbooks]

It's devastating that we don't get to see them interact more. Their dynamic comes out as two men who get each other on such a deep level. Both of them have a hunger for knowledge, as it's commonplace in the Beholder's avatars, but they are fundamentally good people.

I love how both of their lives were ruined by Leitners, and they have dedicated their time to stop others from suffering the same fate. Jon and Gerry can come across as rude or cold at times, but deep down they're just traumatized. Jon builds walls around himself, and Gerry was isolated by his mother. It would have been so beneficial for them to have each other as a friend.

To Jon, Gerry is an ally, an equal, the proof that you can be bonded to The Eye and not lose your humanity in the process. Proof that he can also do good via destroying evil. It's a shame really we don't get to meet Gerry in person (not a ghost). But alas, TMA is a tragedy after all, having Gerry being alive and well would have diminished much of Jon's suffering.

Personally I don't ship Jongerry, I prefer to see them as platonic friends. But I think they have the most chemistry and potential out of all the relationships in TMA. I would love to read some fics that delve into their connection.

once again i am thinking about the way Mary refers to Gerry as “her Gerard” and “my Gerard” in MAG 4. it sounds so possessive. it’s like his title, almost, a clear way of saying he belongs to her. also she’s already a ghost at this point, haunting his every step, controlling what he does from beyond the grave. then when he dies, he is bound to the Catalogue and literally made into an object just because he’s useful. he’s treated as nothing more than piece of paper to be passed around when there’s a tough question in need of answering.

and then in MAG 80, Jon snickers and says “that’ll be our Gerard.” it’s a show of camaraderie and admiration. it sounds like an old inside joke, though Gerry isn’t there to hear it and they haven’t even met yet. there’s no possessiveness, no claim, just a ‘we’re on the same side.’ in MAG 153, because mr. waistcoat cannot let me know peace, Jon says to Julia and Trevor, “Gerry wasn’t yours.” someone finally treats him as his own person. not his mother’s son, not an asset, not a piece of that book. Jon uses that nickname and sets his soul free and reaffirms Gerry’s personhood.

Jon was the only person and Gerry has no idea

[saosinn]

mac just loves to cuddle!! 1.2k wc

nsfw under the cut, amab mac, afab reader!

for this fic, it's up to you whether mac is realized or not! my fics won't always be lore/game mechanic accurate.

mac sat comfortably in your bed, fingers tapping away at the keyboard of their laptop, their lips pursed in concentration. said concentration was broken by the sound of the front door opening downstairs, a smile subconsciously making it's way onto their face. they tore their attention away from the computer screen, listening intently to the quieter sounds, mentally following along with your routine. they heard you set down your keys and slip into your house slippers, the sound of your outside shoes hitting the floor was unmistakable. with the sound of another door closing and opening, mac could tell you had changed into something more comfortable, seemingly wasting no time settling in tonight. next was your trip to grab a drink of water, and your ever awkward conversation with sinclaire.

today though, instead of taking a seat with chairemi and abel for a snack, you immediately made your way upstairs. mac sat their laptop on the nightstand, their gaze now fixed on the door as your footsteps grew closer. there you were, hoodie hanging from your shoulder with a glass of water in your hand. you looked much more exhausted than normal, of course you still looked cute, but mac could tell something else was up. before they could ask what was wrong, you raised a hand to stop them, your dreary head shaking. "'m not in the mood to talk about it right now. later, okay?" your voice was softer than usual, the usual pep was significantly less today. mac nodded, shoulders shrugging as they took in your disheveled appearance.

mac smiled softly when they heard your voice change, willing and ready to be a happy distraction from whatever had you down today. slightly leaning over, they brought the laptop to your lap this time, their chin resting coming up to rest on your shoulder. a warm kiss was planted on your shoulder, mac's arms taking their familiar place around your waist. "nothing much, just doing some research on some new devices that came out recently. actually.." ah, it was time for your favorite radio, listening to mac's computer-y talk. you hummed in response, nodding as you tried to make sense of all their technical words and phrases. after a while though, you began to space out, their voice being the perfect relaxer.

as you made your way to the bed, the more mac could see just how tired you really were. their face scrunched in dissatisfaction, chest aching slightly from seeing you in this state. "oh, babe.. c'mere, sit with me?" they turned themselves slightly to face you, arms open wide, beckoning you to sit in the empty space between their legs. and that you did, after taking the last sip of your water and setting it on the dresser, you crawled into mac's hold. while you nestled into their lap, the flash of a computer screen caught your attention. "oo, what were you looking at?" as the question fell from your lips, that usual chipper tone made it's way back into your cadence.

"hey, speaking of which," mac started again with a gentle pinch to your hip, stifling a chuckle when you jumped slightly in surprise. "i think i have an idea on how to help you relax." you rolled your shoulders, taking a moment to process their words. that nagging pain spread through your upper back again, forcing you to let out a mixture of groan and a sigh. you craned your neck to look at mac, a tired grin on your lips. "what, gonna give me a massage?" and so it begins, the flirty banter that always leaves you both flushed and expecting. mac immediately matched your energy, returning your grin with their eyes slightly lidded. "mm, no, not tonight." they spoke lowly, humming against your skin while a hand made it's way underneath your shirt.

it trailed up your side, palming your right breast before pinching the nipple. the gasp you took in flipped a switch in their brain, thumb and index finger now gently pulling and pinching at the nub. "i'd love to have you ride me, but i can tell we're both too tired for that. how about.." they kissed your neck again, this time much less quick and cute, now the kisses were intimate and lingering. before you could even become embarrassed at mac's vulgarity, you felt something pressing into your back. heat crept up your chest to your face, words dying in the back of your throat before you could even articulate them. mac immediately took notice, rolling your nipple between their fingers as they spoke. "you just take a seat for a bit, yeah?"

swallowing the spit you were about to choke on, you nodded, hand coming up to grip their wrist. reluctantly, they let go of your nipple, giving you a moment to take off your bottoms. while you were doing that, they took this time to get their cock out of their pants. when the hot skin was exposed to the cool night air, mac sucked in a harsh hiss through their teeth, member sensitive and throbbing in their hand. having readied yourself, you straddled their lap, hands on their shoulders to steady yourself. they took this moment to really look at you, to take in every gorgeous feature of your face. the intensity of their stare made your cheeks flush, clearing your throat as you began to speak. "i— er.. i'm gonna sit down now, alright?" mac only nodded in response, their hands coming up to your hips upon instinct.

you lowered yourself a bit quicker than you intended, both of you letting out a moan in response. this position was so intimate, and from how you were sitting, they were so much deeper than normal. it felt like the air had been knocked out of you, never being able to take in enough air as your head fell forward into their shoulder. your hips started to raise slightly, but mac immediately pushed them back down, biting back their own moan in the process. "aht aht, you said you were just gonna take a seat, remember?" the smug air surrounding their voice made you whine, neediness increasing by the second. despite this, you forced yourself to relax around their length, doing everything you could to not focus on the way it twitched and throbbed inside you.

the way they continued their work so easily made you a little frustrated, but then again how were you expected to focus while practically being split open. every attempt to roll your hips, to 'adjust', or to even flex your muscles for stimulation was instantly shut down by mac, clicking their tongue and shaking their head at you. the amount of patience they had was shocking, considering the fact that most of the time they were more desperate than you. a gentle hand rubbed your back, doing it's best to sooth you and maybe offer some form of distraction from the way the head of their cock pressed against your cervix. you tried again to move your hips, with more determination this time, being met with the same result. their hand squeezed the globe of your ass, tutting at you once again as they started to speak. "if you stay still tonight, we can do whatever you want tomorrow."

— 𓈒 ❤︎︎ ࣪ ˖

7/1/25

this is not proof read.

OKAY TRYING A DIFF STYLE OF WRITING FOR THIS ONE. also when i said cockwarming i meant it, not cockwarming to fucking, just pure cockwarming :p sorry for lack of computer puns i didn't know how to fit any in 😅 IF YOU SAW THE MISTAKES I MADE BEFORE I FIXED IT NO YOU DIDN'T.

[three-semicolons]

Prompt: During a fight with a magical entity, members of the bat family are all forced to hear Dick’s inner thoughts. Luckily, the magic is set to naturally fade in a few weeks, but unluckily, there is no way to expedite the process. They figure that telling Dick would only serve to make him uncomfortable, so it is decided cumulatively to keep quiet about it.

A lot is revealed, but now those afflicted with the curse must decide whether it’s worth it to confess the whole situation to Dick or to leave the revelations unaddressed.

Below are possible avenues this could be taken, from fluffy to angsty:

1.) Everyone kind of doubts that Dick loves them as much as he says. There’s so much self-loathing in the bat family that, even though Dick hugs and comforts and serves in any way he can, there’s always this underlying notion that it’s all a performance.

But then Dick tells Tim “good job” on a patrol night, and his inner thoughts continue with an I’m so proud of you. Look at how much you’ve grown.

Jason decides to actually come to dinner one night and Dick gives him a polite hug, but inside he’s gushing I can’t believe you’re here, I’m so happy to see you, I missed you, I love you.

Bruce gives Dick an apology for something he did and Dick accepts it in a way that Bruce would normally interpret as more placating than anything, but then he hears I could never hate you, you’re everything to me, I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done.

Stephanie feels insecure about her place as a vigilante, and Dick tells her she’s doing just fine. But as he walks away to continue his route, she hears You’re just like me, all fire and passion and determination. I can’t believe how well you’ve made a name for yourself — better, younger, and with less support than I ever had.

Etc etc.

2.) Number 1 but angsty. Essentially, Dick’s real reaction to the jabs his siblings make.

Damian makes some throw-away comment about Dick being trailer trash or of impure blood and Dick responds with his normal chastising grin and a “Dami, come on now!”. But Damian is flooded with memories of cold juvie hallways and the longing for a crowded bonfire and raucous laughter while inside an empty, desolate manor and an I miss you please come back I love you please-

Jason spits a comment about Dick being a perfect golden boy with Batman wrapped around his finger and Dick playfully sticks out his tongue, but inner-Dick retorts with a grim I wish he felt that way. Maybe then he would have adopted me.

Tim is ranting about his most recent relationship woes to Dick and makes an off-hand comment about how he wouldn’t understand because he’ll take any ass he can get and implies he’s kind of a man-whore, but chokes halfway through when he’s suddenly flooded with rain and a painful grip on his wrists and a pleading no please stop please I’m poison don’t touch me. It disappears almost instantly, and the only affirmation he gets that anything happened at all is the worried look Dick flashes at him — like Tim was the one they should be concerned about.

3.) Dick’s inner monologue is filled with a series of statements that are increasingly worrying. They begin as what could be excused as weird intrusive thoughts or just Dick being Dick, but a combination of recurring themes and escalating severity causes the family to eventually realize that something is very wrong. Use your favorite Dick trauma of choice.

Add more if you want! You could also do something shippy if you want a character who thinks their crush on Dick is unrequited but it turns out Dick feels the same way, or even a silly game night fic where Dick keeps losing at Poker because he’s narrating his cards, and over time he becomes convinced that everyone is cheating. Which, you know, they kind of are.

Go nuts with it.

[yubinsangel]

I've been seeing a lot of kdh content and polytrix stuff and it just got me thinking about how there's probably this unspoken rule that hunters can't fall in love with each other. they might even be prohibited from dating in general, but ESPECIALLY with each other. because 1) loving anyone but the fans might be seen as a distraction from their cause, 2) being gay is still taboo in South Korea, even moreso within the kpop industry, and 3) idols dating in general is still pretty taboo. both points 2 and 3 would definitely divide fans and potentially weaken the Honmoon or put it at risk, so even if it was never explicitly said to them I think the girls would know that it's forbidden.

all that being said, I feel like it would be so interesting to have a fic that gives a little bit of origin on the creation of HUNTR/X, like how Zoey and Mira joined the team. and I feel like the three of them 100% would not get along at first but gradually came to trust each other and eventually fell in love, but kept it secret. this would be an alternate timeline obvs where the girls knew about Rumi's marks and supported her regardless. I think it would be really important for both Celine and Bobby to find out because I think they'd have vastly different reactions and they're basically the girls' parental figures so I think the contrast would be interesting and necessary in their growth.

anyway, that's as far as I got in my thought process lol but I feel like I should write this at some point because I feel like I'm onto something here 👀

[xylatox]

The Craved Misfit || hk

Another Kai fic from Raya ahh, ive been super excited to read it and I finally got to it :) 

Omg the beginning is so intense and I am in love with it honestly. I am genuinely living for this version of Kai like

He has always hated disorder, the way it jars the symmetry he craves.

This line is so good ugh

I just also love his thought process and despite the way his words have a bite to them, theres so much more to him that just genuinely makes him so intriguing.

How hurt must she be to let someone else see her so wrecked, so undone?

Such a beautiful line. I will always be blown away by Raya’s words

Not here. Not now. But back in that cold, too-quiet house where no one looked like you. Where you sat at the dinner table and watched mouths move around you like you weren’t even there. Where you learned, early and without being told, how to be invisible.

I swear, you always know how to break my heart in all the right places

You were the one who showed up on the doorstep with nothing but a trunk and a name no one knew how to say. You tried your best to earn your place, to blend in, to make yourself useful, but they still looked at you like you were something foreign. Something misplaced.

Ugh. Raya I man. Your words really are some of the most beautiful things my eyes have been blessed to read

"If you really liked me, you’d do it too. You know?"

Jay why must you be a bad guy ;-;

Jayyyyy why must you be a bad guy ;-;-;-; not the bet what. Dont yall think she’s been through enough

You remember trying, really trying to open up. The effort it took to prioritize someone else's wants over your own. The nights you rehearsed words in your head, how to say things gently, carefully, so he wouldn't feel rejected. You remember the ache of being left out, how his friends would talk around you like you were invisible. The silence when you spoke. The forced smiles when they laughed at jokes you didn’t understand because they were never meant for you.

I love that despite what mc goes through, she tries her best to not make her words not seem harsh so he never misunderstood/felt hurt and ugh, for him to do this is seriously heartbreaking. I also really love the way her voice and entire presence feels so much sharper and you can tell that she holds back so much and ugh :( i love her

A boy in red caught up to you, fumbling for your attention, desperate to be seen. Kai watched, as you turned to him with a look of pure disdain. The boy stammered something, like he was apologizing. You slapped him. Hard.

YES GOOD FOR HER!! So proud of her

Also obsessed with the fact that Kai sees the attitude in her but he cant look away then he thinks the craziest thing ever

His chest tightened, something crawled under his skin. How much sweeter would it be if he were the one to do it? He could already picture it: your pride, your voice breaking, your pretty face crumpling; under his hands, under his mouth, under his name. Not for some sniveling boy, but for him.

Only him.

Like this is so freaking insane and I am living for it

You were raw, undone, human. Everything he wasn’t. Everything he had been taught to crush.

What would it take to ruin you completely?

Oh my god (totally not freaking out rn)

Your fingers twitched. You didn’t need a wand. The goblet in front of the boy crushed. Water soaked his robes. Gasps echoed. You didn’t look back. You kept walking.

Forget Kai I am so in love with her.

“I have power. You just have a last name.”

Oh my god I am so in love with her

I think shes the coolest freaking person ever. Like her magic is so cool to me wtf

HELLO??? HE KISSED HER JUST LIKE THAT??😭OH MY GOD. WAIT MY BRAIN FREAKING FRIED HE KISSED HER WAIT FUCK????? THATS SO (i am so freaking out)

“Stop crying,” he said. “It ruins your face.”

I will pass out

She exhaled through her nose, almost amused. “Oh. Yeah.” There was a flicker of something beneath her expression then something real. “I’m ambitious,” she said. “And if being ambitious makes me a bad person… then I guess I’m a Slytherin.”

I cant help but find Yunjin super cute here.

“Am I hurting you?” Kai shushed when you hissed, feeling a hint of pain as he filled you.

I will pass out

“I’ll learn how to move the way you do. I’ll learn how to speak the way you understand. I’ll change the way I live if that’s what it takes. Every single day, I’ll do it, just to fit you.”

Oh my god ugh.

Raya. I genuinely become one of the happiest people when I read your work. It turns a bad day good, a rainy day into a sunny one. Just, I love every aspect of your writing and just, always, thank you for choosing to share your work with the world.

‎₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐓

pairing: slytherin!kai x gryffindor!reader

He was supposed to look away. He was never supposed to crave the one who didn't belong.

warnings: hogwarts au, set in college age, romance redemption, strangers to lovers, pureblood/halfblood societal norms, mdni. bullying!, family!trauma.

smutwarnings: virginity-loss, missionary, oral!fem receiving.

wc: 10k — playlist

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: so happy to be part of this event! thank you to my girls, rain, ash yun and nina for being awesome ily all ^.^ see the event masterlist here.

He grips the back of her head, his fingers sinking into her hair as he thrusts into her with a steady, punishing rhythm. Skin into skin. Her soft moans turn ragged, a needy, breathless chorus in the dimly lit room. The air is thick with the cloying scent of her perfume, almost too sweet, making his head swim.

“m-more, Kai, please,” she whimpers, her nails scraping at his shoulders, her legs tightening around his hips.

He smirks. They always beg the same way.

He watches her, how her lips part with every gasp, her brows knit in desperate pleasure but as she reaches up, her fingers brushing against his jaw, he knows what she’s after.

A kiss.

He shoves her hand down, ignoring the flash of irritation in her eyes. He doesn’t want to see that. He doesn’t want to see anything but her writhing beneath him as he chases his own high.

He keeps pounding into her, the bed creaking under them, her breaths turning into sharp cries. When he feels himself tip over the edge, he holds her hips still, burying himself to the hilt as he cums hard into the condom. He stays there for a moment, head bowed, catching his breath. He pulls out and steps back, his chest heaving. She lies flushed and trembling, a sheen of sweat on her skin, her hair a tangled mess. He’s already made her release twice tonight, but he can’t find it in himself to press his lips to hers.

A line he never crosses.

She sits up, tugging down the hem of her uniform skirt, smoothing it over her thighs. She ties her hair back in a tight ponytail, her green scarf slightly wrinkled. She watches him with narrowed eyes, her lips still parted and pink. “Why don’t you ever kiss me?” Yunjin says finally, her tone somewhere between curiosity and frustration. “I used to think it was just me… but I talked to some of the other girls you’ve hooked up with. You never kiss them either.”

He shrugs, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark as he tugs on his jeans. “Should I?”

“Asshole.” Yunjin’s voice is clipped, her eyes sharp with hurt as she stands up. She can’t let him be the one to leave first, not tonight. She smooths down her skirt and grabs her bag, shoulders squared as she heads for the door.

Heuning Kai just watches her, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. He’s known her since their first year, long enough to read every flicker of her mood, how she tries to cover her hurt with anger, how she thinks he can’t see it.

He doesn’t bother trying to stop her. He doesn’t have to.

She leaves with her head high and her footsteps light, and he doesn’t move until the door clicks shut behind her. He shakes his head, a small huff under his breath as he stands and tugs his jeans back up, his shirt still undone.

Kissing. It’s always been too intimate, too close; something that feels like more than he can give. He’s never been interested in playing at something deeper than what they already have. He’s never found the will to do it.

He glances at the rumpled sheets. He will need to have them smoothed out, made right again. Things should be neat, aligned.

He has always hated disorder, the way it jars the symmetry he craves.

He strides through the grand halls with the effortless poise of someone who believes the castle itself was built for him. Every step is confident, his polished shoes clicking softly on the stone floor. When someone calls his name, he turns enough to flash them a half-look. His name is on everyone’s lips. His robes are cut to perfection, dark green and silver threads woven just so, a mark of being a pureblood heir and wealth. He sees the girls watching from the corners, cheeks flushed. Some whisper to each other, others just stare in open admiration. The boys in his own house, look at him with a mix of camaraderie and begrudging deference. They share the same colors and the same crest, but not the same steep.

He doesn’t slow down for them. The air around him seems to shimmer with an arrogance that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Everyone knows who he is and what he represents.

He’s about to turn the corner when someone barrels into his shoulder. He glances up, finding himself face-to-face with a student dressed in vivid red.

A Gryffindor.

“Honestly, must you always be this clumsy?” Kai sneers, his voice dripping with scorn as he glares at the boy. There’s no kindness in his eyes, just the sharp gleam of someone who delights in cutting others down. He’s never had patience for Gryffindors, the way they strut around, so certain of their own virtue, as if bravery alone could make them special.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” he adds with a thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Or did you leave that famous Gryffindor courage somewhere behind you?”

He hates their pride, their blind sense of righteousness. It’s always been a sore spot for him — the ones in this house always seem so sure of their own moral, so quick to wear it like a crown. They don’t understand real power. They don’t understand how quickly their loud ideals can be torn apart.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Not everyone here is as forgiving as I am.”

The Gryffindor boy shoves his hands down into his pockets and walks off without a word. Kai’s smirk falters, turning into a disappointed scowl when he realizes he won’t get the reaction he was hoping for.

He turns back to his locker, swinging the door open and rifling through his books. His fingers move. A sudden burst of laughter echoes from the other side of the hallway, loud and grating. He can’t see them, but the harsh, triumphant cackle is enough. Another group of Gryffindors, undoubtedly.

He hates how their lockers are practically pressed up against his own. How he has to see them every day, laughing like the world is theirs for the taking. It makes his skin prickle with annoyance.

He heard them leave.

With a grunt, he shut his own locker and started toward his first class, but not without catching a faint, choked sound from the direction of the lockers he hated so much.

It’s not that he’s curious. It’s not that he wants to see it.

It’s just that it’s on his way, like a grain of sand stuck in his shoe, like a pedestrian standing in the road he needs to cross. A path he has to take, whether he likes it or not.

At the end of the row, a girl is crumpled in defense, her face hidden in her hands. Her shoulders are trembling, the soft, broken sounds slipping past her lips even as she tries to swallow them down. Even from here, he could see the ache written in the curve of her back, in the way her breath hitched and faltered. The world feels too bright around, the hallway too bright and uncaring.

He breathes.

How hurt must she be to let someone else see her so wrecked, so undone?

"I am not the Darkling" he said softly, his eyes searching mine. "I am not the monster you think I am."

You echo the words under your breath, the pages of your battered book trembling slightly in your hands. You feel your eyes burn, but you don't dare blink. The darkling tried dragged her into the dark, but it was her light, Alina, that ended up swallowing him whole.

Fairy tales for the lonely. Lies stitched into paper and ink. Because in the real world, no one survives being consumed by someone else.

And no one asks to be.

“Hey.” You hear your name. When you glance up, Chae Won is standing over you, eyes sharp with contempt.

She’s supposed to be your friend. A fellow Gryffindor.

Without warning, she snatches the book from your hands and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from where you’d been sitting quietly on the floor. “Can we just stop this, please? I—”

“Stop what?” she snaps, already stepping closer. “Crying to Jay? Playing the victim again?” His name stops you cold.

She doesn’t let up. Her hand fists your hair, enough to hurt. “Do you forget you’re a Muggle-born?” she hisses. “And him? He’s everything people want. We were fine before you. You just had to show up, cry to him like some helpless little thing, and now he thinks you're this princess he has to save.”

Chae Won shoves you hard against the lockers. The metal slams cold into your back, the sound echoing down the empty hallway. She leans in, eyes burning, and says the one thing that never stops hurting, no matter how many times you've heard it. “You’re dirty.”

And just like that, you’re six again.

Not here. Not now. But back in that cold, too-quiet house where no one looked like you. Where you sat at the dinner table and watched mouths move around you like you weren’t even there. Where you learned, early and without being told, how to be invisible.

Where no one taught you how to belong.

You don’t say anything. The words are there, caught in your throat, but they taste like shame. They always have.

The afterthought. The charity case. Strange eyes. Odd temper.

You were the one who showed up on the doorstep with nothing but a trunk and a name no one knew how to say. You tried your best to earn your place, to blend in, to make yourself useful, but they still looked at you like you were something foreign. Something misplaced.

In the darkest corners of the night, you wished you’d never gotten the letter. That magic had skipped over you. That your name had never burned through that parchment. Never touched a wand. Maybe then, you could’ve had a normal life. One where you didn’t have to watch your adopted siblings shine in a world that only ever dimmed you.

Because then maybe, just maybe, you’d get to be normal.

Not this. Not the ghost haunting a place that was never yours. Not the muggle-born mistake among children who made spells sing on their tongues, while yours stuttered, cracked, and bled.

You didn’t even feel that you were crying.

Chaewon stares down at you with a cruel smirk, almost entertained by your tears. You’re frozen, your chest tightening, looking like a ghost of yourself. Pathetic. That’s probably what she’s thinking. Then she shoves you again hard. Your body hits the cold locker room tiles with a sickening thud, pain through your spine. You flinch, but you don’t even try to get up.

“Tell anyone,” she sneers, leaning down. “and you’ll regret it.”

They left you right after that.

No one would believe it anyway. You’ve spent your whole life fighting, pretending you're fine, building yourself up just to keep surviving. You wear strength like armor. But now?

Now you’re nothing but shattered pieces on the floor. No one saw you break. No one knows how hard you cried.

No one fucking knows.

"What?" Your voice comes out sharper than you meant, caught off guard.

It was the morning after — after everything and Jay had found you outside like he always does. The golden boy of Gryffindor, the one everyone seemed to adore without question. For months, he'd been chasing you. Sweet smiles, thoughtful words, persistent in his way. He asked you out more times than you could count and a month ago, you said yes.

That was why Chaewon hated you more now than ever.

Jay leans in across the picnic table, casual and unbothered like nothing had shifted in your world. Like you hadn’t spent the night before crumpled on a locker room floor, swallowing sobs and blood.

"I said you should sneak into my dorm later," he repeats. You blink at him. You had planned this picnic, thought maybe today would give you a moment of peace. A needed softness, but now his words float in the air like smoke, invasive and unexpected. He doesn’t notice the way your hands tremble slightly. Or if he does, he says nothing.

You swallow hard.

"Why would I do that? I could get caught," you say, your voice uneasy, the words tumbling out. Jay laughs, it was as if your nerves are a joke to him.

"Come on," he says, grinning. "It’s been a month now. I wanna be with you. Do that thing with you."

Your stomach turns. You might be naive but you’re not stupid. You open your mouth to say something, to maybe ask what he really means, to question the way he’s looking at you like he’s owed something, but he cuts you off. "If you really liked me, you’d do it too. You know?"

You look at him, stunned, like a deer caught in headlights. The boy you thought wanted you for you is now dangling your feelings like bait on a hook. "That... that won’t prove if I like you or not,"

"What do you mean?" he asks, brows furrowing. "So you don’t wanna do it?"

"Of course I would," you say quickly, your throat tightening. "But not right—"

"Not right now?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "That’s always your excuse."

"Excuse?"

He leans back, annoyed. "You know, if you don’t want me, just say it."

You freeze. His next words come out in a bitter, quiet mumble, like he doesn’t even realize he’s saying them aloud. "If this wasn’t for a stupid bet, I wouldn’t—"

"What?" Your voice is almost breathless. Cold rushes through your chest like someone ripped the air straight from your lungs. He doesn’t answer. His eyes widen, just for a second — just long enough to tell you everything you needed to know.

Your mind races. You remember the guilt that bloomed in your chest every time you turned him down, thinking you were the one being difficult. You remember how sad he looked when you said no, how it made you feel like you were failing him. How you apologized for it, over and over, thinking you were the one ruining things.

You remember trying, really trying to open up. The effort it took to prioritize someone else's wants over your own. The nights you rehearsed words in your head, how to say things gently, carefully, so he wouldn't feel rejected. You remember the ache of being left out, how his friends would talk around you like you were invisible. The silence when you spoke. The forced smiles when they laughed at jokes you didn’t understand because they were never meant for you.

You remember Chaewon's cruelty and you remember convincing yourself it was all worth it because he chose you.

"I was a fucking bet?" Your voice comes out hoarse. You stare at him, this boy who once looked like something good. Something kind. All that softness you thought you saw in him feels like a lie now.

You can feel the fire start to rise in your blood. You wore the same house colors.

"I—It was from the start, but then—"

“We’re done.” A blade slipped between the ribs.

You stand, your eyes focused on anything but him. You don’t look at the people beginning to notice, don’t care about the whispers. Your chest is hollow and screaming, but your face doesn’t show it. You walk the grounds like your heart isn’t shattering with every step.

You feel him behind you, his frantic footsteps, his form clinging to your shadow. You feel the stares, the weight of every eye on you.

"Can we please talk?" he pleads, his hand wraps around your wrist.

You turn your head and slap his face so hard it echoes. He doesn’t even get to process it before your foot collides with his, a sharp kick that throws him off balance. Pain, humiliation — all of it written across his face now for everyone to see.

“I said we’re done.” Your voice cracks but not out of weakness. It cracks from the sheer force of holding back everything you could’ve screamed. "You're evil."

He’s looking at you now like he’s the one broken. You turn, this time for good. Your body is trembling, anxiety crawling beneath your skin like a thousand needles, but your steps are steady. You're done.

Kai lounged on the stairway, tuning out the crude, drunken laughter of his housemates as they bragged about the girls they’d had the night before. Their voices blurred into nothing. His eyes scanned the grounds lazily, flashes of yellow, green, blue, red, the usual mess of students he barely cared to notice.

He saw you.

He saw you and remember how you cried that night.

He leaned forward without thinking, resting his chin on his hand, the world narrowing to just you. Everything else fell away against the blinding, face of yours. You moved with a kind of arrogance he recognized instantly: head high, steps sharp, like the world didn’t deserve you. The fire in your eyes. Typical of your house — spoiled, untouchable. He should’ve been bored.

He couldn’t look away. He couldn't stop hearing remembering your soft whimpers the night before.

A boy in red caught up to you, fumbling for your attention, desperate to be seen. Kai watched, as you turned to him with a look of pure disdain. The boy stammered something, like he was apologizing. You slapped him. Hard.

Kai’s mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin.

You didn’t stop there. You kicked the boy’s foot out from under him, angrily spat a few words he couldn’t catch, and walked off, not even glancing back. Kai’s eyes stayed locked on you, tracking every furious step you took across the grounds. You tried to hide it; the tremble in your hands, the way you blinked too fast but he caught it.

You're crying.

His chest tightened, something crawled under his skin. How much sweeter would it be if he were the one to do it? He could already picture it: your pride, your voice breaking, your pretty face crumpling; under his hands, under his mouth, under his name. Not for some sniveling boy, but for him.

Only him.

You didn’t even know his name. He stayed where he was, eyes following your broken form.

Kai had grown up as the only son of a pureblood family, where reputation bled deeper than blood, and control was not a suggestion but a rule etched into the spine of every morning. He was taught to be composed, restrained, untouchable — never too loud, never too soft. Smile, but not too often. Speak, but only when it matters. Feel, but never let it show.

He’d been raised that way.

His life was built on legacy. Emotions were weakness. Kindness was liability. He was not held, not comforted, not loved — only shaped.

They carved obedience into him like marble.

He watched his father hold entire rooms in silence with nothing but a stare. Watched him speak to people as if their existence was a favor, an inconvenience he barely tolerated and everyone listened. Everyone bowed. He learned early that power wasn’t just about magic.

He wore it well. Better than most.

He learned how to mimic empathy without feeling it. He learned how to laugh on cue, how to listen without caring, how to look someone in the eye while thinking of a thousand other things.

He drifted through life half-asleep, wearing the world like an ill-fitting coat. Friends, lovers, enemies; it was all noise. Meaningless. Predictable.

You were raw, undone, human. Everything he wasn’t. Everything he had been taught to crush.

What would it take to ruin you completely?

With every difiance in his body he stood up. He found himself taking step forward. Kai moved before he realized he was moving.

The sound of his housemates' laughter faded behind him, smothered under the pounding in his ears. He descended the steps with the same cold precision he was raised with, but something feral stirred beneath his ribs. His strides were steady, calculated, like a shadow stretching to meet its mark.

You were walking fast, too fast, your back stiff and your steps clipped. Anger clung to you like perfume, sharp and choking. He trailed you from a safe distance, ignoring the students who brushed past, oblivious. All he saw was the set of your shoulders, the shake in your hands. He could practically taste the heat radiating off you.

You turned a corner. So did he.

You passed the greenhouses, cut through the arch, your pace stuttering as if your own breath was betraying you. You didn’t notice him. Or maybe you did. Maybe you felt it — that feeling like you're being watched, hunted. The air changed around you.

Kai waited until you slowed near the old stone path that led toward the empty wing of the castle. Then he spoke.

His voice didn’t waver. “Why did you hit him?”

You stopped walking.He watched your back rise with a breath, then you turned.

Your eyes met. For the first time.

Up close, you looked even more dangerous. Even more breakable. Fire and ruin, cloaked in pride. Your lips were trembling, but your jaw was clenched. He took a slow step closer, tilting his head slightly, studying your face like it was a spell he hadn’t learned yet. Something unreadable flickered in your eyes — recognition? fear? anger?

He spoke again. “Is he the one who made you cry?”

Your fingers curled at your sides. You narrowed your eyes, not answering, as if silence could keep you safe.

Kai smiled, cruel. “You're not very good at hiding it.”

“I heard you last night,” he said, voice so calm it almost sounded kind. “In the hallway. You were crying.”

Your expression twisted. “Were you spying on me?”

“Observing,” he corrected, as if it mattered. “You’re... difficult to ignore.”

You scowled and turned to walk away, but this time he moved,faster than you expected, cutting into your path. “Your name,” he said. “Tell me.”

You stared at him like he was insane. Like something in him wasn't right and you were right. Something wasn't right. “What, so you can tell your little pureblood friends? Have a laugh?”

“So I'll know what to call you.”

Your breath hitched. He didn’t smile this time. His eyes dropped to your mouth, then back to your eyes. He could see it, the flicker of panic behind your bravado, the instinct to run, the ache in your throat from holding everything in. And yet, you didn’t move. You stayed rooted.

Still burning. Still human.

Still too much for someone like him.

“You're insane,” you said.

“I've been told.” Kai murmured. The wind caught your hair, brushing it across your cheek. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out and touch it, feel if it was as soft as it looked, feel if you would flinch. “Tell me your name,” he said again.

You stared at him for a long time. Seconds stretched like hours. A war in your eyes, as you spoke your name. Maybe if you gave him your name, he would leave you alone.

“Wasn’t hard,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Was it?”

He stared at you for a second longer, and when you didnt answer him he turned and walked away; no grand gestures, no parting words. A slow retreat, like he’d taken exactly what he came for. You stayed frozen in place, blinking hard, as if shaking off some invisible fog. The anger you felt with Jay minutes ago completely erased in your mind.

You told yourself he was just another entitled, pureblood brat playing mind games. But somehow… you knew he wasn’t done with you.

It was a surprise that you didn't cry a tear when you returned to your dorms that night.

The sun filtered through the high windows in thin, silver lines, catching on the dust that hovered in the still morning air. Breakfast chatter filled the Great Hall.

You walked in alone. As usual.

Your boots echoed softly against the stone as you passed through the threshold, robes hanging heavy off one shoulder, the collar of your uniform just slightly wrinkled. Your hair was pulled back, but loose strands clung to your cheeks from where you’d barely bothered to dry it. There were shadows under your eyes. A bruise of exhaustion, of restraint.

People noticed. They always did.

You could feel it, the way heads tilted toward each other when they thought you weren’t looking, how eyes followed you just long enough to make your skin crawl. It wasn’t new.

That’s her, they’d whisper. Muggleborn. Dangerous. Did you hear what she did to that Golden boy? How dare she?

You could’ve explained. You could’ve said he tricked you. Said he turned you into a bet, but you’d learned a long time ago, they never really wanted your side of the story.

You crossed the room, spine straight, steps controlled, passing the long tables like you didn’t notice the silence blooming around you like mold. You sat at the edge of your table. Your plate filled with food, untouched by your hand. A flick of your fingers beneath the table, no wand. No words.

A few first-years flinched.

Your fingers hovered over the rim of your goblet, then curled back. You weren’t hungry. You hadn’t slept much. A voice still rang in your head like a spell that hadn’t worn off.

“So I'll know what to call you.”

Kai sat three tables over, surrounded by his housemates; all perfectly-groomed pureblood sons and daughters of old families, boys with bloodlines like poisoned roots. He wasn’t speaking. He rarely did, but his gaze was fixed on you like a blade laid flat across your skin. He didn’t look smug. He didn’t smirk. He just watched. As if you were something worth waiting for.

You held his gaze. Steadily.

He didn’t look away. The last time you locked eyes with someone like that, they ended up on the floor, clutching their ribs, coughing blood, but Kai didn’t flinch.

He simply raised a single brow, like he was inviting you to do it. Daring you. Testing the temperature of your fury. You clenched your jaw and shoved your chair back, the scrape echoing louder than it should’ve.

Screw the eggs. Screw the toast. Screw this whole bloody castle and the way it always stank of legacy and rot.

And just as you stood, “Filthy little freak. Thinks she’s special.”

Your fingers twitched. You didn’t need a wand. The goblet in front of the boy crushed. Water soaked his robes. Gasps echoed. You didn’t look back. You kept walking.

You weren’t afraid of what you could do. You were afraid of how easy it was now.

The doors slammed behind you as you left the Great Hall, but you didn’t get far. You’d barely made it into the courtyard, “Well, if it isn’t our little wandless wonder.” The steps behind you were deliberate. Stiletto-sharp. The sound of privilege. You turned around.

Chae-won stood there, arms folded, robes pristine, her platinum hair twisted in a perfect knot that screamed power. Her prefect badge gleamed on her chest like it mattered. And behind her, always behind her. trailed two other girls.

“Chae-won,” you said flatly.

Her smile was razor-thin. “Did you think we wouldn’t hear? Poor Jay.”

“What?”

“You slapped him. Humiliated him. In front of everyone,” she hissed. “He was apologizing, you freak.”

“You know nothing.”

Chae-won’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, please. He did something, or what? That gives you the right to act like some dark creature in the middle of the grounds?”

You didn’t flinch. “I said you know nothing.”

Chae-won blinked, her voice lowered to something crueler. “So? Do we care about a mudblood like you?”

You looked at her. Really looked. And wondered how many people had handed her the world and called it earned. You remember the first year you were friends, the first year she knew all of you, and the once smile on your face whenever you see her. It all became a blur when people looked at you as a misfit.

Your hands twitched again.

“You planning to explode something else?” Chae-won taunted. “Go on. Show us what you can do. Everyone’s already terrified. Might as well give them a real show.”

You stepped forward. “You want to know the difference between you and me?” Chae-won raised a brow.

“I have power. You just have a last name.”

Her jaw tightened, but before she could respond, before she could reach for her wand or hurl another insult, a voice broke through from behind: “Chae-won.” She froze.

Kai stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes locked not on her but on you.

“I’d stop if I were you,” he said, calm, lazy, terrifying.

Chae-won blinked like she hadn’t heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not repeating myself,” His shoulder brushed yours, intentional as he passed and stood between you and her. Not defending you, but as if staking a claim.

Chae-won’s face burned. “This has nothing to do with you, Kai.”

“It does.”

She stood there for a second, jaw clenched, then scoffed. “Figures. Your house never know where to keep your standards.” Then with one last look at you, all venom and fury, she turned and stormed off, her little shadows flurrying after her.

You looked at Kai. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t look at you. “I didn’t do it for you.” And yet, he was still standing there. Still between you and the world.

You hated how you lived your years.

You hated the way your life had built itself around survival; around silence, around swallowing things that no one else ever seemed to choke on. You hated that you were born like this, like a wrong answer in a question nobody asked.

You hated that once, long ago, you’d called Chae-won your friend. That you’d laughed with her, studied with her, braided her hair in the dormitory mirror. You hated that she knew all the parts of you worth breaking and now she used them like blades.

You hated that even now being Muggleborn wasn’t enough. Wasn’t already a mark on your back. No, you had to be different, too. You had to wield wandless, wordless magic, the kind they couldn’t control, couldn’t track, couldn’t replicate and that made them stare, like you were unnatural.

You hated that, out of all the people in this castle, the one who wouldn’t look away was him.

Kai. A stranger. A Slytherin. A boy born with a silver knife in his mouth, and the gall to look at you like he saw past your fury, like he saw you about to break.

You walked away; fast, sharp steps that echoed off the stone corridor — hoping he wouldn’t follow.

He did.

You didn’t stop him. You hated that, too.

You didn’t speak, didn’t glance back, you kept walking until the hallway emptied behind you. Until there were no portraits, no prefects, no Chae-won, no whispering mouths. A stone and silence and the feeling of someone watching you like a match watches a flame.

When you reached the end of the corridor, where the light didn’t quite reach and the air felt still and forgotten, you stopped. Your shoulders rose once, then fell. The first sob cracked out of your chest so violently it startled even you.

You tried to cover it, your hand flying up to your mouth, like that would make it less pathetic, but it didn’t matter. You were already shaking, already crying, already too human to stop it now.

Behind you, he didn’t say anything.

You sank down against the wall slowly, like your legs had given out — not from fear, not from pain but from carrying it all too long. The silence between you pulsed, thick and unkind, and still he stayed. No comfort. No lies.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” you whispered, not even knowing if you meant your life, or this day, or this moment. Maybe all of it. You could feel his eyes on you. You could feel the way he was listening.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, voice raw.

You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying like this in front of him of all people. Your lips trembled, and your vision blurred, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

And Kai just sat there.

Watching. Unmoving. Unbothered.

Or so you thought.

Kai exhaled slowly, like a man tired of waiting, because watching you; ruined, furious, crying and still managing to burn like a goddamn wildfire — it made something unravel inside him. Something unholy. Something that clawed its way up from beneath all the manners and legacy and careful obedience.

You, with your defiance. You, with your trembling hands and splintering voice. You, who didn’t even look his way.

You felt too much. You burned too brightly. You cracked in places he didn’t understand. You cried like it meant something. You fought like the world still owed you something soft.

A single, smooth motion and before you could ask what he was doing, before you could read the shift in his expression, he was standing over you. Looking down at you like you were a problem he couldn’t solve, like you were noise in his carefully constructed world of silence.

His jaw twitched. “I don’t like messy things,”

You opened your mouth, to apologize, to yell, to tell him to leave but your voice didn’t come.

Instead, he crouched down. Slowly. His hand reached out, not toward your face, but beside it, bracing against the wall near your shoulder, boxing you in. His other hand hovered near your chin, pausing midair. A breath. A hesitation. Something nearly human.

He kissed you.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of your robes. Your chest ached from the sobs you hadn’t finished, from the weight of the day, from the way his mouth pressed against yours like it was the only language he knew.

It wasn’t sweet. It was hungry.

He tasted like someone who hadn’t felt anything in years and hated that you made him want to. His hand moved to your jaw, holding it, not harsh but unrelenting.

His breath was unsteady when he pulled back. So was yours.

Your tear-slick lashes fluttered as you stared at him, chest rising and falling with everything you hadn’t said, everything you didn’t understand.

Kai didn’t blink. You didn't too.

You weren’t sure who looked more shaken.

“Stop crying,” he said. “It ruins your face.”

It was past curfew when the door creaked open.

A soft, deliberate sound, barely loud enough to disturb the quiet hum of sleeping breaths in the girls' dorm. The enchanted lanterns were low, casting dull golden shadows across the hardwood floor.

You were curled on your side, blanket kicked off, facing the wall like it might protect you from the dreams that had been growing more vivid lately — filled with brown eyes, the weight of a stare, the press of a mouth that never should have touched yours.

It has been a week since he kissed you, and all he did now was consume you.

You heard a slow footstep across the floorboards that didn’t belong. You sat up in an instant. Your hand instinctively curled, breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

Kai stood there leaning just inside the doorway like he owned the place. His eyes flicked over the room, over the slumbering forms of your roommates, and then back to you.

You were too stunned to speak. He shut the door behind him with a careful click.

“You can’t be here,” you whispered.

“Then tell me to leave.” He said it like he already knew you wouldn’t.

He didn’t move toward you. “I won’t skulk around and pretend I don’t know what I want.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how your heart was hammering. Of the ache in your hands from clenching them too tight under the blanket. Of the way you hadn’t breathed properly in hours.

His voice lowered. “I wanted to see you.”

You looked at him then. Really looked. His hair was messy from wind or sleep, his collar half-open. His expression, unreadable as ever, but void of any smug.

His look scared you more than any smirk ever had.

You were walking to your next class, trying to keep your head down, your thoughts together, your breathing even.

Kai walked beside you. Beside you. Shoulder to shoulder, step for step, like he belonged there and he wasn’t hiding it, either. He was adamant in the way he moved.

You rounded the corner and saw them.

Jay was seated on the ledge just outside the main stairwell, one arm slung lazily around Chae-won’s waist as she perched in his lap. They looked like a painting, like every pureblood fantasy the school worshiped. Perfect posture, perfect hair, perfect detachment. Chae-won was smiling; a perfect, cold little curve of her mouth that never quite reached her eyes while Jay just stared.

He saw you before you saw him. His gaze locked with yours, cold and pointed, like you’d wronged him. As if he were the victim. Chae-won didn’t even glance your way, but she leaned in just enough to whisper something in his ear, and though he didn’t smile, something in his jaw flexed. His hand tightened on her hip and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

Your vision went blurry. Your throat tightened. The corridor felt too bright, too narrow, the sounds too loud, too far away. Your breath stuttered; shallow, clipped, your heart racing like you’d been running.

Kai's gaze move from your face to your hands, where they clenched and twitched at your sides. You tried to blink it all away, tried to keep walking like nothing was happening, but your body had betrayed you.

“Has this happened before?” His voice came low.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your limbs felt heavy and useless, and the corridor seemed to stretch further with every step. You were floating and falling all at once. You barely noticed when his hand reached for you, until you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist — not tightly, not to restrain, but to feel.

He pressed his thumb lightly over the spot just above your pulse. He didn’t need words to know. The panic was there, thundering under your skin, alive and frantic and loud enough to silence everything else. His brow furrowed. “You’re panicking.”

The words landed heavy, simple and precise. You flinched like he’d struck a nerve, tried to pull your arm back, but he didn’t let go.

“You don’t get to worry about me,” you snapped, voice sharp and broken at the edges, as if saying it out loud could make it true.

Kai tilted his head, expression unreadable. He didn’t react to your words. He didn’t need to. He just looked at you like you were the one thing in this corridor that mattered. And then he said, calm and quiet, “Continue walking with me.”

It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t even a request and you hated that your legs obeyed before your mind could fight it. Hated that some fragile part of you wanted to keep walking, if only he stayed beside you.

You closed your eyes for half a second, just enough for the tears to sting. You wouldn’t let them fall, not here, not with them still behind you but your chest ached, and the shame pressed hot against your throat.

His hand found yours again.

His fingers slipped through yours like it was instinct, and then he held on careful, steady, like he was holding something breakable. You kept walking. One step after the other.

He walked with you ike the entire castle wasn’t watching, but even if they were, he didn’t let go.

“So, you’re Kai’s girlfriend?”

You looked up from the ancient, half-crumbling book in your hand and blinked at the girl now standing beside you in the dim library aisle. She was dressed in green and silver and wore the kind of smile that had probably gotten her everything she ever wanted.

“Pretty,” she added, tilting her head slightly, eyes raking over you not with curiosity.

“I’m not,” you replied evenly, turning back to the shelf, hoping she’d take the hint but her presence didn’t waver. You could feel her shadow shift with yours. She followed as you stepped further down the aisle, her footsteps light but intentional.

“I’m Yunjin, by the way,” she said. Her voice had that lilting quality warm, but not soft. “I always see him around you. I mean, everyone’s noticed. It’s kind of hard to miss, the whole... obsession he has with you.”

Your fingers paused mid-reach. Obsession?

“And I guess,” she continued casually, “that must be the reason he stopped seeing me.”

“…What?” The word left your mouth before you could hold it in, too stunned to coat it in disinterest.

“Oh, don’t worry.” She gave a light, musical laugh. “It wasn’t serious. Kai doesn’t do serious. He’s unwell. Emotionally, I mean. Brilliant, but broken. The type of boy you keep behind glass until he cuts you with it.” She said it like she knew. Like she’d bled.

You stared at her. Her smile didn’t falter. If anything, it widened. “But I do see something different now,” she added, “He looks at you… differently.”

You expected cruelty to follow. A sharp comment tucked behind a smile. A passive-aggressive jab meant to draw blood beneath the surface because that’s how it usually came, wasn’t it? From the people who knew how to dress poison up in perfume.

You thought of Chae-won. A girl from your own house. People from your own house who doesn't even dare to smile at you. It was strange, wasn’t it? That someone from your own house had been so much crueler than the students from the house everyone warned you about.

So much crueller than Kai. Than Yunjin.

“Why are you being kind to me?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Yunjin tilted her head like she was trying to decide whether to laugh again. Then, with a small shrug, she said, “What?”

You held her gaze, unflinching.

She exhaled through her nose, almost amused. “Oh. Yeah.” There was a flicker of something beneath her expression then something real. “I’m ambitious,” she said. “And if being ambitious makes me a bad person… then I guess I’m a Slytherin.”

You were sitting in your bed, knees tucked loosely to your chest, the blankets crumpled around you like a forgotten thought. The castle was quieter than usual. Music pulsed faintly from somewhere down the hall. There was a party for your batch tonight; a celebration, one you were meant to attend, smile through, pretend for.

Instead, you were here. Alone.

You were counting the minutes.

The door opened without urgency, a soft sound not trying to sneak, not trying to impress. You didn’t turn your head. You didn’t need to. You already knew who it was.

Kai stood in the doorway like the rest of the room didn’t matter. His eyes swept across the space, landed on you, on your still form in the sheets, on the way your gaze had already been waiting for him.

“You knew I would come,” he said.

“Yes,”

He strode toward you with his usual measured grace, never rushed, never nervous and you moved slightly on the bed. “You never told me anything about you,” you said, and your voice didn’t accuse, “You’re always around. You help me. You... show up but you never talk.”

Kai looked at you, and there was something different in his eyes tonight. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

You didn’t blink. “You.”

There was a long pause.

Long enough that you thought he wouldn’t answer. Long enough to feel the ache of expectation rise in your chest, but then Kai huffed, soft through his nose, and there was a shape to it that almost — almost — sounded like a laugh. Not the full thing, but the ghost of it.

You wondered, not for the first time, what he sounded like when he really laughed.

Your eyes flicked to the empty space beside you, and you shifted further inward on the bed, a small movement, but clear.

He caught it.

He sat on the edge of your bed, hands resting on his thighs, the weight of him sinking into the mattress beside you. His posture was still too careful, still too contained, but he was there.

“I don’t talk about myself,” he said suddenly.

You didn’t answer. You knew better than to fill silence that didn’t ask to be filled. Kai exhaled softly, the sound shallow. Measured. Then he looked up, his eyes distant but focused on you, like he was reading from a page only he could see. “I was raised to be an heir. Not a person.”

You didn’t flinch. He noticed that. It made him keep going.

“My father were strict. He didn’t believe in wasting time on things like comfort, or affection. If I cried, he said it was noise. If I asked questions, he told me to read faster. If I smiled too easily, he asked if I was bored, or foolish.” He paused. Not for effect. To breathe.

“He had this saying. You were not born to be loved. You were born to lead. And I repeated it to myself every morning. For years. Until it didn’t sound like cruelty anymore.” he shakes his head, “When I was five, I learned how to duel with a real wand. When I was seven, he started leaving me alone in the manor for days. Said it would teach me independence. I didn’t speak to anyone for weeks.”

His voice didn’t shake. Not once. He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t even sound sad. He sounded like someone explaining the weather. Like grief was just another season he’d already lived through.

“I don’t know how to talk about feelings,” he admitted. “I know how to talk around them. How to look someone in the eye and not let them touch a single part of me.”

He looked at you again. “But then I saw you.” The words weren’t loud. They weren’t dramatic. “I didn’t mean to care. I don’t know how to. But I do. I hear your voice in my head even when I try to ignore it. I look for you when you’re not around.”

“And when you’re upset, I want to fix it.” His hands unclasped slowly, then gripped the edge of the bed. “I want to fix it because it’s you.”

You moved closer. He didn’t stop you. He just looked at you like you were the first warmth in a life made of glass and granite and rules. “I hate how much I feel now,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to go back.”

His words made you reach out the back of his neck and pull him to you. You hugged him and you let out a shaky breath. "I'm here. I'm here Kai."

Two strong arms snaked around your waist as soon as you said those words, and Kai's lips were against your nape. He left trails of kisses on your neck up to the back of your ears, his body pressed on yours. "Good."

He presses a few more soft kisses to the back of your head, then his voice drops to a whisper against your ear. “Can I touch you?” Your breath hitches, but you nod. His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers brushing lightly across your stomach. “Can I touch you here?” he asks, voice gentle.

You nod again, barely able to get the word out. “Yeah.”

His hand travels higher, fingertips gliding up until they meet the bare curve of your chest. He pauses, just long enough to make your heart race. His lips are at your neck now, breath hot. “Here too?”

When he feels you nod, his hand moves with more purpose, fingertips gliding over the curve of your breast. He cups you fully, palm warm, thumb brushing the softness, squeezing just enough to make you arch subtly into his touch. He teases, exploring everywhere except where you need him most, drawing out the ache with every careful touch. When his fingers finally graze your nipple, a quiet moan slips from your lips before you can stop it. He pauses, his breath brushing against your neck. “You can tell me to stop anytime.”

Then he pulls his hand away from under your shirt, and the sudden absence makes you whine, your body instinctively chasing after his warmth. Before you can speak, he cups your face gently, tilting your head until your eyes meet. It’s dark but he's close, so close — you can make out the shape of his face, the softness in his gaze.

He leans in, brushing a featherlight kiss over your lips. Then another. You smile softly, breath mingling, and when your lips part, he takes it as invitation. This time the kiss is deep — hungry. His mouth moves against yours with desperation, like he’s been craving your taste for far too long. His hand finds your waist, tugging you closer, bodies aligning in all the right ways as the heat between you builds.

“I want you,” you whisper, voice barely there, lost in the way his lips trail along your neck, warm and wet. “Please.”

He pauses just enough to meet your gaze, then his hand slips between your thighs, cupping you through the fabric. The pressure makes your hips jerk, breath hitching.

“Here?” he murmurs, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You want me here?”

It’s too much, and not enough. Heat pools low in your belly, a need that feels raw and overwhelming. You nod, biting your lip, your voice trembling. “Yes. There. Please.”

He groans, low and deep, and that’s when clothes start disappearing—slowly, messily. Every layer peeled off is interrupted by his mouth; on your lips, your jaw, your collarbones. His hands, greedy and gentle all at once, explore you like he’s memorizing every inch. The room is filled with nothing but breath, the soft rustle of fabric, the occasional hitch of a moan.

When he finally sinks lower, eyes locked on yours as his lips trace a burning path down your body, you don’t stop him.

“Kai…” You moaned as you clenched your fist on his dark locks. His tongue was doing to your buds as his fingers part your wet folds. You don't know what it is, but it makes your legs quivered as his tongue lapped at your entrance.

Kai grunts as he hears your soft moans, sucking on your clit to hear more. Your taste in his mouth got him drunk as he shook his head from side to side, making your moans go higher as you moved your hips to grind your wetness on his tongue. "Hmm?"

He pulled back, replacing his tongue with his thumb, rubbing her wet clit as he kissed and sucked your inner thighs. Your eyes rolled back as your chest rose up and down, glistening with sweat.

You're fucking beautiful. Kai thought as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. The sight of your blushing cheeks, eyes asking for more with your lips between your teeth made Kai slightly rut his hips on the bed.

"Do you know how long have I imagined this?" He pumped a finger inside your pussy, curling it to hit your spot as he put his mouth back to work again, flattening his tongue over your swollen pearl before flicking it with the tip. You cried out in pleasure, throwing your head back.

“I couldn't help myself but think of you.” He begged as he doubled the finger inside your soaking cunt, making you cry out in pleasure as your hands grabbed the pillow under your head.

“I can't resist having all of you.” He kissed your clit, making you whimper at the brief contact. He took off his shirt and pants before pulling you by your arm, sitting you on his lap as he took off your blouse and bra. He kissed around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you.

He moved your position to grind on his bulge, letting out quiet moans as he desperately kissed you. He stopped your hips as he moved to your other nipple, lightly biting it while staring at your glossy eyes, making your breath hitch. He hummed as he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, nibbling on it. He laid your back down, admiring your body as you panted. Your eyes are glistening, and so is your cunt. He groaned at the sight, pushing his hair back and taking his erected cock out of its confinement. He pumped it a few times before you sat up and took it into your hand.

“Let me make you feel good.” Kai stopped your hand, giving a kiss on your forehead. “Fuck.” He murmured as he moved to your lips, sucking on them, making you whimper as you laid back down again.

“Kai, please…” You cried when Kai started to rub his shaft on your slit. Every time his head hits your bud, you let out a whimper, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide as you look up at him.

Kai took his time, grunting before pushing the tip inside. You gasped, grabbing the sheets under, feeling the pain as his length invade you. Your walls fluttered around his cock, making him let out low growls. You felt tears in your eyes as you watched half of his length disappear inside you. Kai took your hand, intertwining your fingers. He kissed your tears.

“Am I hurting you?” Kai shushed when you hissed, feeling a hint of pain as he filled you. His other hand began rubbing circles on your clit to ease the burn from the stretch.

"No,"

Kai kissed your hand when he was entirely in, giving you time to adjust. You look gorgeous underneath him. Legs wide open,mouth slightly parted, and body glistening under the dim lights of his room.

Kai started moving slowly when you nod your head, until your whimpers turned into moans. His name echoed in whispers, as you clawed on the skin of his back, leaving red marks. He was cradling your head, and his lips pressed on your ear. He was whispering the sweetest things to you.

“The things you do to me,” Kai whispers, kissing your ear lobes. "I can't even look at anyone else now."

“Yes, yes, Kai, please…” You begged as his hips started to thrust harder into you.

“Fuck.” He groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. He could tell that you were both close. Your walls spasmed around him, and his thrust started to stutter.

“Look at me.” He stared into your eyes, feeling your orgasm take over your body. His mouth reaches for your sweet lips, your toes curling as your legs wrap around his waist. Kai thrustied into you a few more times before pulling out to spill his thick load on your thighs.

It was slow, and it was soft, the way he helped you clean up. No magic. Just his hands and yours, sleeves rolled up, fingers brushing as you folded the same blanket twice just to have an excuse to linger near each other. The silence between you wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t awkward. It was full.

Your scent clung to the air; a little floral, a little tangy, something warm and alive, like late spring clinging to skin. It was in the sheets, in the corners of the room, in him. He’d never been the type to notice things like that, but here he was, trying to memorize how the air felt with you in it.

You were fussing with the pillows now, distracted, focused on symmetry but he was just watching you.

“I’m going to work every day,” His voice was low, almost rough with restraint. “I’ll work every fucking day, just to follow you.”

You feel your eyes burn.

“I’ll learn how to move the way you do. I’ll learn how to speak the way you understand. I’ll change the way I live if that’s what it takes. Every single day, I’ll do it, just to fit you.”

“Why?” you asked, voice almost a whisper. “Why would you change for me?”

Kai’s eyes found yours. “Because you made me want to,”

It's the truest thing he’d ever said in his life.

taglist: @heesmiles , @lovingbeomgyudayone , @virtaideen , @hyukascampfire , @fancypeacepersona , @bamgeutori , @lilbrorufr , @beomieeeeeeeeeeees , @xylatox , @yunverie , @imlonelydontsendhelp , @moagyuu , @immelissaaa , @readinmidnight , @pagelets , @wonderstrucktae , @boba-beom , @seodami , @izzyy-stuff , @gyudollies , @i-am-not-dal , @page-isa , @tyunarisu , @s0urcherry , @lostgirlysstuff , @tinycatharsis , @randomheyl @txtsoobean , @bweargyuu ,

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[alexanderlightweight]

Anything in not all who wander are lost (the teleporting soulmates one) or back in may of 2023 you had an au where alec met ragnor first that never got titled and that au was a straight up banger that has haunted me to this day would be 10/10 chefs kiss delightful as to whether its sfw or nsfw thats dealers choice and i hope youre having a great wednesday :)

it has been so long since i've worked on this verse but i'm happy to go back! i just went with the first prompt because i do love that verse but yes! i need to go look and see if i've named that yet (i love when some of the more obscure fics get mentioned or prompted). i might have but my brain is a bit holey. last part here

i'm having a wednesday with a lot of prompts and writing and while the comptuer didn't work for a couple hours its working now and thats what matters!! so it's very nice ty! i hope you're having a good onee too! Nightshade has decided that he will let me write as long as i pause every time he comes over for kisses or a snoot boop. i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

not all who wander are lost

Alec processes things slowly through the fog of his mind.

He has a soulmate.

He does.

A male soulmate even.

Someone who won’t crush his heart and soul to be with.

Does that matter?

When Alec can’t do anything to protect himself, let alone his soulmate?

There are words exchanged.

Alec doesn’t remember them.

There’s hands warm and firm and steady on him but he can’t remember the feel once gone.

There’s questions he answers, but Alec isn’t sure what was said by either of them.

There’s a portal, at the end.  Something ominous and looming and Alec welcomes it like the embrace of sleep he begs for every dawn.

—

Alexander is fragile.

Perhaps not in body, but he’s at the breaking point of his life.

Magnus can tell.

This is where he’s reforged.  When his will is broken and remade to what the Clave demands and Magnus will not let them remake Alexander into their image.

This is his soulmate.

Alexander is his.

By law and claim and the call of a soul echoing the yearning of his own.

The dissociation is strong.

Alexander seems more instinct than thought and he’s drowning in his own mind.

Magnus summons everything he can — allowed to because he’s inside the wards and was summoned by a magic more ancient than even the alarm systems of the Institute.

Then he asks what Alexander wants.

There isn’t much.

It doesn’t seem like his boy is used to wanting things.

Except there are a few things that even in this state, Alexander seems capable of remembering.

Obviously his siblings aren’t something Magnus is interested in retrieving, but knowing they exist is helpful.  However Magnus doesn’t think they’ll do much if any good, considering Alexander is hiding from them while panicking.  They’re either too young and immature to help, or are a part of the problem as well.

Magnus won’t pass judgment so swiftly, that’s not his priority.  His only priority is to get Alexander out of here and behind Magnus’ wards, where he can bond Alexander properly and ensure that legally, Magnus has every right to swiftly take Alexander away.

And refuse to return him.

—

Magnus doesn’t take Alexander to the loft.

No, that’s far too common of a place for Magnus to be found, even just by other downworlders.

Instead he takes Alexander to a small but comfortable cottage in the Welsh countryside.  A property bequeathed to Magnus by Ragnor — during one of his many excursions playing dead — and while Ragnor always teased gentle that it would be perfect for a soulmate bond to take place.  Magnus never actually dreamed that it would be a reality.

The garden is lush and green and the sun’s glare harsh but the heat faded before it reaches.  Cool breezes rustling the plants and bees and dragonflies and butterflies of magical properties — because all things mundane, creatures and beings — are kept out.

It’s an oasis for all things magical and Alexander breathes easier, even if the dark emptiness of his eyes remains.

Magnus portals them to the walkway, the luggage and Alexander’s things already inside.  It’s because he wants Alexander to see where they’ll be staying. 

To give him information without overloading him with words he hears but doesn't comprehend.

Alexander pauses as the walk up the path, his fingers lingering on the polished bone of the fence and his fingers gently — hesitantly — brushing against the soft petals of a luridly pink bloom.

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to.

Magnus still feels the rage swelling in his heart, untamed and smoldering yet being held in reserve for a better time.

Alexander is young.

He’s far too young for the kind of despair and pointless exhaustion that weighs him down.

The world is trying to break him — his own people are succeeding at ruining him — and Magnus will not let that continue.

Magnus protects what is his.

To the point of destroying his own self to do so.

In protecting Alexander, Magnus will also be protecting himself and for the first time that doesn’t feel like a weakness to admit.

Alexander is worth the protection and Magnus has a soulmate,  which means he also is worthy.

Regardless of how his father feels or what poison Camille spat or what seductive whispers of him being unlovable that she whispered into his ear.

AN:

Magnus does not tie the selfworth of others to soulmates. That’s reserved for himself. A special little trauma leftover from his mother and father. So like. Cheers to that. 

Like Magnus is incredibly powerful and intelligent but lets not forget how much trauma he’s gone through or how he’s had to dig himself free out of depression and spirals with every bad relationship that tried to knock him down (romantic, parental, familiar, friendship I’m not just talking romance).

Alec is drowning in his brain.  He’ll wake up in a few hours or days and be like ‘okay no, I want to be your soulmate. I do. But I can’t just abandon my responsibilities to play house in a cottage with you!’

Magnus entirely unbothered and not insulted because this is tame compared to what he’s prepared for: why not?

Alec: what?

Magnus: why can’t you? Are you so irreplaceable that someone can’t fill your shoes?

Alec: well no. It was made very clear to me that I am replaceable and if I don’t do better, someone will take over for me.

Magnus: so why is that a problem?

Alec: but I’m supposed to uphold the ligthwood name?

Magnus: oh… you’re a lightwood? Well I don’t mind. One can’t chose their parents and I doubt you wanted yours to be genocidal terrorists.

Alec: … are you. Wait. Are, you saying my parents were int he circle? (he can read behind the political lines. It’s innuendos he’s still working on)

Magnus: oh, you didn’t know? You’re not upholding the lightwood legacy darling, you’re rebuilding what your parents broke and the clave doesn’t trust them to fix.

Alec: … wait so all of this? Is because someone else fucked up. Not because I did?

Magnus not realizing the extent of Alec’s trauma being hinged on his parents and being a good lightwood heir etc: I mean, your parents even killed the last leaders of the NYI. I’m surprised they weren’t mobbed by the hunters who survived the attacks when they came back to lead what they destroyed.

Alec: …. So all those hunters who hated me for no reason and who I was never good enough for… that’s not because I was lacking or they could secretely tell I was gay?  It’s because of my parents?

Magnus: yes? …. Darling. Alexander. Sweetheart I am very new to this. Are nephilim supposed to start glowing like that? Alexander your runes look like they’re on fire what is goingon?

Alec: I think I just magically disowned myself.

Magnus: oh. So you’re in the market for a new last name? I happen to have a very nice one. Picked it myself.

Alec: …. Okay. Sure.

Magnus: I cannot beleive this worked and darluing…. Wait why are you crying? Shit. Alcohol? No. That creates bad habits. Sex? No that creates bad precedent… HOW TO STOP SHADOWHUNTER FROM CRYING??

Cat: … kill or comfort? I don’t know. This is a stupid question can shadowhunters even cry?

Ragnor: they can but mostly out of rage or disgust.

Magnus: no this is like, panicked sad crying. Quick. OPTIONS

Magnus: BESIDES ALCOHOL OR SEX

Ragnor and Cat: … neither of those were options we would send but now we’re curious

Ragnor: wait. Magnus. You’re at the cottage? You’ve found your soulmate then! How wondrous… oh dear. A shadowhunter then? Cat and I will create a carepackage but you’re on your own for the tears. Maybe give them a knife? Shadowhunters like sharp things

Cat: DO NOT GIVE THEM A KNIFE!!! NO WEAPONS

Ragnor: no you’re right. Unhelpful. A demon? Is it too bright? Do shadowhunters even like light?

Magnus: both of you are utterly unhelpful. I’ll text you later.

[shubertblue]

Random IvanTill Idea (Alien Stage Spoilers‼️)

So like- What IF Ivan also survived. I’ve seen so many theories in wake of Till being alive and it had me thinking…

What if Ivan was kind of revived/healed by another group of human resistance members. There HAS to be other resistances, but they have to keep a low profile to survive in an alien-prominent society. So what if when the aliens were dealing with the bodies, they realized Ivan was still alive. However, word spread and while they were in the process of transporting the body (healed enough to survive but would need further treatment) it was intercepted. If the aliens took him, everybody would know and he’d be forced back in a role of a spectacle. However, the aliens tried to cover the incident and just chalked it up to Ivan being dead (the ones hiding it assumed he’d be dead soon anyways without more treatment).

But of course, he was very much alive. When he was better he watched the Alien Stage finale and the attack Mizi did with the resistance. He become grief stricken at Till’s “death”, for all he knew among others he really was dead. It’s not everyday you see someone get sh0t in the neck and be unconscious during an explosion, to then survive. (I assume cameras weren’t able to pick up clearly the resistance leaving with Till. Even if it did, one would still assume it was too late for Till).

As a result, Ivan grew vengeful and determined. He hated the aliens, he hated the resistance that decimated Till’s body (for all he knows because a body was never found and people assumed it was destroyed in the explosion. To add, the actions of the resistance was definitely villainized by the aliens to look like it was meant to kill everyone. So for all Ivan knew, it was meant to kill Till and Luka also.), but most of all he resented Mizi. He knew that pink hair anywhere, she “distracted” Till and that’s what caused him to lose (even though she motivated him, but his POV from the camera’s perspective would make it seem Till was distracted). To add, she was the one who dropped the explosives. Of which only made things worse for humans, it wasn’t coordinated enough and it made things harder for other resistances. (Again, for all Ivan knew it could’ve been the plan from the get-go with the resistance she was a part of.)

So, fast-forward seven years in the future. Ivan is a strong figurehead in his resistance. Of course he HAS to go by a different alias and hide his identity because he was so well known and beloved by aliens in the past. Although being “dead” for so long sure helped him hide his identity, many aliens still knew of his name and face due to how popular his Alien Stage bracket was between it being full of talent and ending in a disaster. (Ironically, it’s the same exact situation as Till.)

Ivan is doing some resistance work and ends up running into the infamous member that rides a motorcycle. He would be lying if his didn’t still hold a grudge towards that resistance group in particular. Not to mention, that guy was messing with his plans. (Keep in mind, Ivan has reverted into someone harsher/abysmal/stoic. Very morally gray.) So he decides to “teach him a lesson”. The other guy is scrappy, and of course doesn’t go easy. The fight is giving him an odd sense of Deja Vu, which entices him to the mystery guy. He talks (with a voice modulator to further hide his identity) but the guy wouldn’t respond (couldn’t because Till probably has a damaged voice, he could probably make some noise/talk but not without extreme difficulty and pain. To add, he’s getting beat up here. It’s not like he can easily grab his notepad.)

They go their separate ways in a hurry not to get caught, but for the first time in seven years Ivan finds himself deeply fascinated in someone again. Little does he know it’s still Till.

(Should I make fanart of this/ write a fic?)

[cripplecharacters]

Hiii I’m writing a Star Wars fic right now and I needed some help with an oc, she basically she split personality which she gained from all the stuff that happened with order 66. I don’t wanna make it offensive or wrong but she has two personalities one being “her self” aka trying to be a Jedi and the other being someone who finds joy and pleasure in the Sith and just being straight up evil

I wanted to do like what moon knight did, like the two people in the same body like how they could talk to each other in a reflection or hear each other but I just wanted to ask and make sure it’s not wrong

I have the fic on my account so if u look through it and smth about it is wrong I would love for you to tell me so I can learn more as a writer

Hello!

This would be more along the lines of sensitivity reading or beta reading, which is (more often than not) a paid job.

This blog is here mostly to offer advice and information at the beginning of the creation process. Doing a complete read-through and providing feedback on a finished project is outside the scope of what we do.

Given what you've written here, however, I will mention: it's generally best not to use fictional stories as your only source on disabilities. Real DID is nothing like how it's shown in Moon Knight and the show has actually been criticized heavily for the inaccuracies.

Also, please note that the idea of a dissociative disorder causing a "good" and "evil" personality is a trope that has caused a lot of harm in the past and if you plan on including the trope in your own writing, it should be done with careful thought and consideration.

If you haven't already, I'd strongly suggest taking a look through our pinned post for some information on what we do here and some posts that can be helpful.

If you do choose to hire a sensitivity reader, there are some resources in this post here [link].

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[ollyissleepy]

𝟎𝟖. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨?

summary: displaying affection in public (more) a/n: I was so happy to come back home after my exams that I forgot the notebook I wrote the chapters for this fic so sorry for the delay cw: none reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated

← prev. | m.list | next →

It took Gojo a while to find him, sitting on a bench hidden away somewhere on the campus.

Geto was lost in thought as the white-haired man approached him. He was thinking about the kiss that occurred between him and (name) just a few days ago. The way their soft lips felt on his, the way they pulled him in.

The way it woke up the butterflies in its stomach.

Suguru is so deep within his mind that he doesn't notice his friend sitting next to him until Gojo cleared his throat.

"Satoru! How long have you been sitting here?" Geto jumped a little, startled by the unexpected company.

"Long enough to see you being all heart-eyed," Satoru teased, nudging his friend with an elbow. "Saw you and (name) the other day. How is it going with them? Is your darling obsessed with you yet?"

Gojo's question sent Suguru into a sort of trance, as if he was under a truth spell of some kind. He talked all about the stuff he did with (name) from the first date to the kiss. With each word spoken, the smile on his face grew just a little bigger.

Once Suguru got everything out of his system, he turned towards his friend to see Gojo laughing.

"What?" Geto asked, annoyed.

"You sound so whipped, dude." Satoru kept on laughing, clutching his stomach.

Gwto was about to respond with a snarky remark when Gojo's comment hit him like a truck. Was it really how it looked for other people? Was the weird feeling he felt in his stomach Suguru falling for (name)?

"Are you good over there?" Satoru asked, concerned about the look his friend had on his face.

Geto doesn't answer for a while, still processing Satoru's comment. His heart was beating fast, the idea of having feelings for (name) making it flutter.

"I… uh, need to go." Suguru stood up quickly. "I promised (name) to walk them from class."

@gumiiiiezzzz @sanemisbaeaot @jcrml @kennedyss

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoingjustgay2]

Can you do an Argus fic where Argus is very sick and wants to keep doing her Mercernary duties and reader is just like “no you need to sit down and rest” pls☺️☺️

A Suprising Warmth

Trope : Sick Fic

Summary : Realizing that your wife is sick, you try to have her stay at home.

Notes : I hope you're satisfied with the result. bc this weather is killing me, Fluff, Some backstory stuff for the both of you, Argus being Stubborn, it's also raining, god this humidity, HELP, cuddling, kisses, some sligth angst but nothing major at the start, sick fic, coercion into taking care of oneself/j

Words : 1,542

Thank you for the request <3

Masterlist

Link to AO3

You blink against the sun, grabing for the sligthly warm side of your wedding bed, your ring glinted silver in the ligth of the sun. You pouted, mumbling an annoyed "Argus…", before hearing a shot in the distance.

You scoffed. That Woman and her stupid gun. She was with it like with that damn car, it was her first baby. She'd deny it, telling you that it was just a gun, like the car was just a car. But you knew that this was a lie. One time, at nigth, when you were not married yet, she told you about how she had bougth it what was like, seven years at the time. You had nodded along, telling her that it looks younger. She had smiled, telling you about the polishing process. You didn't understand a word, but anything was interesting, aslong as she talked about it.

And that still counted for today. You tied the bathrobe, it was old too, just not as old as the gun. It'd be bad if it was. You took the stairs, going through the living room untill you've reached the backdoor. She was all the way back at her little range. You sighed, thank goodness you decided to wear shoes.

"Argus.", you sing-songed, but it didn't ring over the shots, so you waited. "Argus!"

She turned around, gun still up. Pointed rigth at you. You held up your hands, not moving an inch. "Argus?", you whispered, barely recognizing the look in her eyes, that went as fast as it came. She dropped the gun to the ground, walking up to you, wrapping her arms around you so fast that you couldn't even push her back or something.

"Dolly, you okay?"

You flinched as she stepped closer. "You pointed the gun at me. Again."

"I know, I know, I was just so in it and I thought…that you were someone else.", she kissed your head.

Your nails dug into her arms, not knowing if you wanted to push her or pull her. "You promised."

"I did, I know, I did.", she pulled you so close one migth think she's afraid of losing you again. "It wasn't on purpose, 'm sorry, I love you doll.", she put your foreheads together, hers was warm…hot even "Forgive me?"

You decided to pull her closer and she sighed in relief, her hands roaming over your back, making sure you were still ok, calming down your shake.

"There, nothin' broken, no bruises…" she kissed your head. "Just some old scars.", she announced, tipping your chin up, her voice was…weirdly raspy.

"You…we need some tea."

"Some breakfast too.", she added, you ruffled her hair, feeling the sweat on her forehead, seeing it. It wasn't even that hot rigth now. You squinted.

"You thinkin'?", she had picked up her gun, but was hiding it behind her back.

"What we'll have for breakfast. I'll say eggs."

"That'd be nice, esspecially before heading to work."

You grumbled, walking over the red stones and decaying grass. "You came back home two days ago."

"'N now I'm leaving.", she kissed your temple as she walked by, into the kitchen. "But I'll be home before tommorow, I promise. Just, another spouse thing."

You nodded, you had been one of those. "What was I then?"

"Now don't twist my toung, sweetheart.", she says, handing you the eggs. Her hand was warm too. Her movements were sluggish. "And don't act all gloomy just because I'm leaving again.", she hugged you from behind. "I'll be back before you know it.", you felt her warmth envelop you, her sickening warmth.

"Baby, how about you watch over the eggs while I get dressed real quick?"

"Huh?", she opened one of her eyes, shifting. "Yeah, go ahead sweetheart.", she leaned on the counter with one hand, but her other one stayed on your hip, letting it slip by.

Was she sick? You asked yourself, remembering that unusual rasp, her hot skin…she sure as hell would not admit it and she'd refuse a Thermometerif you asked her. Maybe you shouldn't ask her. You drew over the piece of clothing, properly made your hair and went back down with a pep in your step. Only to find Argus sitting against the counter, the fire was at the lowest setting and the eggs were sizzling away. You hid the Thermometerbehind your back, waiting in the doorframe untill she noticed you. Which took her one more minute.

You chuckled once she finally lifted up her head. She whistled. "Damn, I must own some tall cotton, because you look like you're made of gold."

You giggled. "You corny~ oh, here by the way." you snuck the Thermometerinto her mouth, it was easy as pie. She looked quite perplexed.

"Wbat's bis?", Argus asked through it.

She tried taking it out, but you took her wrist. "No, it has to stay in there for a while."

She grumbled a bit, but ultimately gave it up, watching you as you added spices, with a bit of desdain. Though you were sure those eyes were set on the food and not you. "You okay, Argus?"

She huffed, nodding.

You slipped the eggs over onto the plate withouth another issue, ready to serve them on the table.

"You know what, baby?", she got up with the help of the counter, pulling out the beeping thermostat. "I think I'll just head out now, you know? Cheating spouses, they act early."

You pout, leaning your head to the side. "But you didn't even have any breakfast!", you grab onto her, having your hand go lower and lower. But she lifted her arm before you could snatch the Thermometeraway.

"Sorry, baby, I'll see you 'morow, ok?", she walked around you, but didn't come far.

"Argus.", you said slowly and she stopped within an instant. "Give me that thermostat."

She chuckled, putting her arms up like a criminal, Thermometerin hand. "Now, dolly, you know I ain't sick, I ain't ever sick."

"Then there won't be any issue in giving me that thing.", you beckon her closer with a finger. She looks at the door around the corner, then you, probably weighing the pros and cons. In the end she sighed and walked up to you, to hand you the thermostat. You smiled at her, though that smile dissapeared once you looked down. "As expected, a fever."

"It's only a fever, I can still go to work."

"If we don't take core of it now, it migth get worse."

She sighed. "Baby, just let me go to work? I can't dissapoint my clients-"

"Argus", you looked up at her, with eyes that could melt her. ", sit down and rest, please?", you pulled her closer by her green jacket. "Hm?", the funniest thing about this whole scenario was that she had left her gun secured at the back door, so even if she got out she had to come back in, leaving you with more time to convince her.

She sighed again. Quite the sigher, your wife. "I- ugh- ok. But you'll have to call the client and tell her I can't come because you told me so!"

You kissed her cheek. "I can do that, but only if go up and get into bed."

"Baby, it'll be extremely hot today."

"Even better!", you boop her nose. "You'll sweat it out."

Argus squeezed her eyes. "You're having way to much fun with this."

You shrug. "Maybe."

You grin at your wife, your beautiful, handsome, workaholic wife. Sitting in bed, with the curtains drawn and a blanket covering her. She was in her pajamas and her hair was open, some of it clinging to her forehead. Her eyes were sleepy, glued on you, your nearly naked form.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why'd you take of your clothes?"

You answer her question in a few steps and a lifting of the blanket, joining her in the bed. "Because it'll get pretty hot in here."

She hummed, pulling you closer, her rough hands drawing over your skin. "That does make sense…" she had you rest in silence for a while before asking. "What'd the client say?"

"That you're a good one for listening to your wife. And that if her husband had listened to her she most likely wouldn't have had to hire you."

Argus chuckled. "Could've expected that…"

You hide in the crock of her neck. "Would've, could've, should've.", you mumbled, sinking your teeth into her flesh. She didn't even act suprised.

"You haven't biten me in some time, I kinda missed it, actually."

You giggled.

"Look at what you're doing to me, woman.", her hand went through your hair, ruffling it. "First, you bite me, then, I stay home because you told me to. I migth be going insane."

You couldn't answer, still too busy with the biting.

"Oh, stop that and come here.", she pulled your head from her neck, pulling you on top of her. "There we go."

You cross your arms on her chest as her breathing slowly evens out, her eyes close. You notice her heart, that beats slower and slower. It's…almost contagious. Very contagious, so contagious in fact that your eyelids fall shut and you join her in sleep.

[dontpulloutman]

Can you explain the singer!y/n multiverse if you haven’t already

ok so theres TWO timelines (three in my head) where:

CANON TIMELINE

they met circa 2012, in an afterparty in LA where (for fic purposes) eden introduced them. lewis already knew singer!yn cos he has a slight crush on her (she released her debut album in 2010 and is in the process of making her second AND IDK ITS SO CUTE TO ME THAT HE LIKED HER FIRST YKNO) she wrote "enchanted" about this night

they got together circa 2018 and were supposed to keep it SUPER LOWKEY but she accidentally soft launched him on ig so they decided to become public circa 2024

she attends the 2025 thunderbolts LA premiere aww cuties (this is their first outing together)

BREAKUP AU

they've been public since 2018 !!!!

she went to the El Royale premiere but NOT with him (but ppl know they're together UGH) she went to the TGM premiere in 2022 !!! TOGETHER!!!! their first red carpet together (basically she's either on his arm or a few ppl behind him in his movie premieres bcos WHY NOT HUH)

also she would bring him as her date to some music award stuff idk they're being cute and icky in my head

in the month leading up to the thunderbolts premiere (alexa play you're losing me by taylor swift) they talk about how their relationship is going stagnant and perhaps their insecurities are getting the best of them and BASICALLY there's this weird tension between them that they cant explain so they decide to go on a little break

fast forward TB premiere, YN didn't attend and ppl are so confused cos HELLO GIRL THIS IS UR BOYF'S BIGGEST ROLE SO FAR AND URE NOT HERE???? and then a few days later the lewis and k*ia pics leak

fast forward 2 months her breakup album drops

a month later, she's all over new york and los angeles all dressed up with friends at bars and restaurants and studios mhmm

4 months (6 months into their on and off thingy) lewis is seen near her apartment lmfao bro does NAWT know how to hide from the paps

2 months later they were spotted entering a bar in montana (messy bitches) and then for the next couple months she's with him and the band SIGHHHHH

and then SHE DROPS AFTERGLOW

basically they were on and off for a year (and she's lowk seeing pedro pascal UGH maybe i should write something for him)

ALT TIMELINE (the little demon in my head)

they stay broken up and she moves on with pedro pascal

the end <33

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: July 4/25

Happy July 4th weekend, my American friends! Why not get into some great fics to keep you busy this long weekend?? Check out these new fics on my radar this week. Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

Resetting the Break by thetimemoves (T, 1,000 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Mycroft Whump, Face Punching, Mild Hurt / Comfort, Sort of Fix-It) – When Mycroft Holmes finds himself on John Watson’s doorstep after Sherlock’s (miraculous, melodramatic) return, he wonders at himself. He doesn’t do this, groundwork. This is Sherlock’s mess, not his (lies), but he feels inexplicably compelled to defend his blasted brother. To John Watson, of all people. Part 2 of Hurts So Good

Oceans Blue by stopthat (T, 4,785+ w., 1/3 Ch. || WiP || Pre-TRF, POV Alternating, Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, Idiots in Love, Friendship/Love, Headaches / Migraines, Lighthearted, For a Case, Humour / Banter, Travel, California, Jealous Sherlock, Bed Sharing) – Being so far from home makes things feel different somehow. A bit lighter, he supposes. A bit heavier, as well.

Ice by Raina_at (M, 17,838 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fix It, Established Relationship, BAMF Johnlock, Trust Issues, Mary is Not Nice) – John is having a very bad week. First Sherlock disappears, then Mary returns, and now he's being held hostage and forced to go on the world's most dysfunctional road trip. Maybe, just naybe, If he keeps cool and trusts nobody, he can get though this in one piece, and keep his daughter alive as well. Part 7 of Nothing Gold

Downtime by TheGracefulBlueCat (NR, 20,307+ w., 9/? Ch. || WiP || Post TRF, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Torture, Distress, Sherlock Whump, Protective Mycroft, Sickness, Hospitals, Medical Procedures, Broken Bones, Drug Use, Unconsciousness, Hurt Molly, BAMF Molly, Traditional Medicine, Autistic Sherlock, Sensory Processing Disorder, Sensory Overload) – Sherlock endured numerous life-threatening situations during hunting down Moriarty's web. This is a collection of H/C scenes from his 'downtime'. Sherlock Whump, massive angst, injuries, hurt and comfort. Part 2 of Hiatus

When You Think He Can't See You by tisforpterodactyl (M, 38,160 w., 9 Ch. || Post S4, Rosie is in this Fic, POV John, PTSD, Angst, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Hurt John) – “Just the two of us against the rest of the world." That was what Sherlock had offered John the day he came back from the dead. John had punched his lights out because he was right pissed at Sherlock for leaving him, for making John have to learn how to face the rest of the world without the only person who made John feel that he had a place in it. And then he came back. He came back, and he asked John to jump right back into the fray, to the blood pumping in his veins, feet pounding on cobblestones and walking canes long forgotten. He asked that it be just the two of them against the rest of the world again. And John had punched him. Not because he didn't want it. Not at all. It was because John had wanted that exact thing, so badly, every day for two years. John had wanted nothing more than for them to just be... them. For as long as Sherlock would let him, John wanted to stay. So what changed? Bloody fucking everything. And now it's too late. Part 1 of Saving John Watson

[alectoperdita]

Yes, I love the point you made about lucky charms usually being seen as something positive/fun. The reference to omamori is also purposeful. Because the side I don't think is usually seen in pop culture is they're meant to be retired after a year or so of use. Practically, the charm gets worn out because that's what happens when something is exposed to the elements and an active lifestyle. It getting worn is kinda proof it's working on your behalf. And when it's no longer effective, you return it to a shrine where it's ritualistically burned and you acquire a new one.

That takes on a much more grim implications when the charm is actually another person. In Katsuya's case, he would probably cease to be useful if he was killed. In which case, the expectation is that Seto should just get a new charm. That is essentially what's hanging over their heads throughout the story.

Thank you for reading the fic. Hopefully, it was okay to share some of thought process behind how the story was constructed the way it was. And yes, they can try and build a brighter future for themselves now. 🥰

New Chapter: Luck Eater (12263 words) by Alecto

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Pre-Slash, Magical Bond, Angst, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Master/Slave, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Blood and Injury, Minor Character Death, Tortured Go Analogies

Summary:

"Seto—" His wide-eyed gaze whipped to Gozaburo's stern countenance. "Pick one." Seto swallowed thickly. A lump formed in his throat, parched despite having drank tea. "Pick what?" "An omamori. Weren't you listening?" scolded Gozaburo. --- Seto makes a choice that changes the course of his and Katsuya's lives forever.

This is for a fic-for-art exchange with @lulue-xie. 🥰 I hope y'all enjoy! Please go check out the lovely art she drew for my fic, Cold Comfort in return!

Read Chapter 2/2 on AO3

[moeblob]

Gavin mentally: wait... that doesn't add up........

[slayerdurge]

Durgetash Resurrection AU

"Is that...? That's my body. I remember now. The Morphic Pool. The Elder Brain, it... I was dead. What did you do?" "I made a deal... with Lord Bane."

[vynnyal]

This is a pretty good point in the wip to share this, methinks :]

Map part for the hole dwelling map, starring... Not my ocs! I wanted to use ocs, but I don't have any-- so I just used the characters from a fic I was reading at the time 😂

Turns out, the symbolism was so much fun to twist into the 11 seconds I had to work with, I ended up going way more complex than I meant to. If you wanna read the fic this was based on, please do!! And tell the author I said hi! :D