#sure. maybe I just don’t know where to look.

[clockwayswrites]

Fresh Birb! Part 32

masterpost

“Thanks for the excuse to get some fresh air,” Danny said. He sounded grateful enough that Jason felt a little bad for using the ‘stroll around the yard’ as an way to gather some intel.

“Hey, trust me, I get how overwhelming the manor can get,” Jason said, “and there are a lot of us in house right now. It’s easier in small doses for sure.”

“I could see that,” Danny agreed. “But there’s also something nice about the full house. It’s all very… alive feeling.”

The words were more melancholy than they should be. They were more like how Jason, who knew the feeling of death all too well, might say them. It brought troubling thoughts to mind.

“Yeah, that can be nice about it. Sure is quieter if I’m not here or at Roy’s,” Jason agreed after maybe too long a moment.

“Is Roy that much more talkative when it’s just the two of you?”

“Oh, no. Well, yeah, but it’s more about his little girl, Lian. She’s three and a half and an absolute handful most days. She’s also at that age where she’s pretty much narrating her own life in half understandable babble so there’s just a lot of constant noise.”

Danny chuckled. “I bet. Stayed with a friend for a bit when I was between jobs and stuck there for a few months by a non-complete clause. Her one kid was that age at the time and the oldest five. I didn’t know just how much everything there was when having kids that age. It made me actually feel a little sorry for my parents.”

“You the youngest, oldest, or middle?”

“Youngest. I’ve got one older sister, Jasmine,” Danny said. “You could sorta say there’s a half a sibling too. I basically grew up with my best friend and there were some weeks I spent more time at his house than ours.”

“That close to him?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. That and it was easier, sometimes, to not be at home.”

“Oh.”

That implied some unfortunate things that Jason hadn’t quite been expecting. Danny seemed pretty well adjusted. He was even good at handling Damian, but Jason supposed that maybe part of that was because Danny had been through his own issues.

Danny just shrugged. “I have a life long friend out of it. We don’t see each other in person much these days since we’re on other sides of the country, but we still talk plenty.”

Jason gave a soft hum and, a beat later, asked, “What made you end up in Gotham of all places?”

“Wayne Enterprises, actually,” Danny said. “The rep in the industry as place to work is unparalleled really, especially for what I want to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Help people,” Danny said, honestly and with a crooked little smile. “Which I know sounds cheesy, but I really wanted to create things that help people. It’s not like I mind making a better cellphone battery or anything, but it’s nice to know that I get to work on things that help not just with the little, everyday issues but also the big, life changing ones. The fact that those things get to help the city I live in too is a real plus.”

“Gotham has a way of getting to you like that,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” Danny replied softly, gaze in the direction of the Gotham sky line.

And then a scream split the air.

Not a human scream, thankfully, but a repeated screech that had both of them starting and looking around for the source. The screech turned to a warbling clucking as Jerry emerged from behind the landscaping. His tail was high and spread, his wing tips brushed the ground, and he was looking almost shockingly colorful.

“A turkey?”

“Damian’s.”

“Damian has a turkey,” Danny said slowly.

“And a cow,” Jason said. “Cat, dog, a few snakes. He tried to keep a rat but Alfred stopped that pretty quickly.”

Danny rubbed at his temple. “This is why he knew how to take care of wings, isn’t it?”

Jason tried not to smile. “That came up, huh?”

“He’s been sending Bruce information about it,” Danny answered.

Jerry made another loud warble and struck what Jason could only describe as a pose.

“So… does he do this often?”

“His name is Jerry, and nope,” Jason said and pulled out his phone.

Jerry strutted closer to Danny, tail feathers shaking.

“Oh… oh,” Danny said with the tone of someone for who horrible realization was dawning. “Can you, ah, talk him down?”

“I’m afraid I’m morally obligated to film this,” Jason said somberly. He couldn’t hold back his smirk any longer.

Danny shot him a withering look and started to back up towards the Manor. “Really.”

“Really. Good luck.”

“Well, fuck,” Danny said and then took off running.

Jerry followed at top speed with a scream.

Jason sent the video to Bruce. ‘You have competition.’

[covenofagatha]

Sex therapy

Your sexual life has been...lacking for the past year. Enter sex therapist Dr. Agatha Harkness to help you out.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: patient x therapist, mentions of sex and masturbation, guided orgasm, dirty talk

A/N: we just learned about sexual disorders in one of my classes and my professor kept talking about sex therapy lol so here we go (I hope this is good/hot I just genuinely couldn't stop thinking about it and had to write something) and maybe part 2?

The first thing you notice when you open the door to the waiting room is the smell. 

It’s slightly earthy with a hint of honeysuckle and sweet undertones. Not unpleasant, but it does little to calm your nerves. 

The lobby is small, cozy almost, with only four gray chairs tucked against one wall and a rectangular wooden coffee table in front of them with a short stack of magazines on it. 

Across from the furniture is the front desk and you step in front of it, waiting for the blonde receptionist sitting behind it to look up at you. She’s typing something on the computer and in the reflection of her glasses, it looks like she’s filling out a form. 

After standing there for a few moments, you clear your throat, trying to make it sound natural and not pointed. It works and the lady looks up at you with a smile that looks like more of a grimace. 

“How can I help you?” she asks. You tell her your name and she scrolls down on her screen before clicking. “First time?” 

“Oh, um, yes,” you answer, cheeks heating up. 

She looks you up and down. “You can go ahead and have a seat, you’re all checked in. Dr. Harkness will be with you shortly.” 

Muttering a quick “Thank you,” you pick the chair closest to the exit to settle into and anxiously tap your fingers against your leg. 

You barely have time to rethink your decision when a door on the wall of the front desk opens and a woman steps out. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a few strands loose and framing her face. She’s wearing white pants and a blue and gray striped shirt with black ankle boots. Black glasses rest on her nose. She looks around futilely—for there’s no one else in the room—before her eyes fall on you. 

She calls your name. You wipe your hands on your pants, swallow roughly, and stand up, nodding with a stiff smile. She beckons you forward and you obey, feeling a tug in your gut.  

“I’m Dr. Harkness,” she says warmly, pushing the door even more open so you can walk by her. You pause so she can get in front of you and she takes you down to the second door on the left. “But you can call me Agatha. I want you to feel comfortable while we’re here.” 

She opens it for you and you feel her hand on your lower back, guiding you in. It’s a small room, dark with about ten lit candles. There’s a warm scent of vanilla and jasmine and you deeply inhale. 

Agatha steps in next to you and the door closes shut behind you both. She points to the blue couch across from a chair. “Why don’t you have a seat there?”

The cushion dips under you as you perch on the edge and Agatha sits down in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, grabbing the yellow notepad from the side table and a pen in her left hand. You’re not exactly sure where to look—at the posters on the wall? At your fingers? At her? Who talks first? Should you say something?

She clicks the pen. “So, do you want to start with what brought you here to sex therapy?

You cringe at the words. Sex therapy is definitely not something you’d ever even think of. You didn’t even know what it was until about three weeks ago. It’s a bit unnerving how she just wants to get right into it—although, what kind of small talk were you expecting?—but you suppose you’re paying for a session so you might as well get the most of it.

“Um, I just…I just haven’t been having good sex lately. Like, I haven’t been feeling much at all and it’s fine, but I just can’t really focus or get into it, you know?” You pick at imaginary lint on your pants to avoid having to meet Agatha’s scrutinizing gaze. “I got a little drunk a month or so ago and was complaining to a friend about it. She said I should look into this and you were the closest therapist to me.”

Your friend had laughed when you told her that you hadn’t had an orgasm in about a year but her eyebrows had then shot up when she realized you were serious. She had promptly pulled out her phone and searched sex therapists near me. You had reluctantly moved next to her to scroll through the results and she let out a low whistle when she got to Agatha’s practice. She’d shown you the headshot of the woman sitting in front of you and you had to pretend to be unimpressed. 

But really, you felt more heat in your stomach than you had in awhile. 

“When did this start happening? When did you start noticing that you weren’t really feeling much?” 

It takes you a moment to ponder the question. Things had been relatively good with your ex-girlfriend two years ago. You had been together for almost two years before things just fizzled out. Both of you had decided the break up was for the best, even though the sex was normally pretty good. 

After that, there had been a series of hook-ups and flings, mostly casual sex that never turned into anything more. It had been alright, nothing special. You came about half the time. 

But then you’d gotten a promotion at work about a year ago and started seeing someone more seriously and sex turned into a chore. And when you did have sex, you stared blankly at the ceiling and couldn’t stop from thinking about all the work you had to do or making a grocery list in your head or desperately trying to will yourself to be into your girlfriend’s tongue on your clit but it just felt like nothing. 

It wasn’t her fault, no, the problem was you. Even masturbating seemed hard and you’d end up stopping in the middle of a session just because you weren’t getting anywhere. 

She had broken up with you about three months ago because you started rejecting her advances or just wanted to focus on her. You could make her come with no problem, but you shied away from her touch after, because even faking it was getting to be too much work. 

You haven’t even tried having sex since then. Seeing a therapist for your problem was clearly a long time coming and you’re not sure why you didn’t think about it sooner. 

“I don’t know, work has just become a lot and it’s hard to keep my mind from wandering while I’m having sex. I don’t know what changed—can stress really just kill your libido?” 

Agatha hums and frowns. “Sometimes. It’s not usual for it to essentially turn off feeling though. How’s the foreplay been before having sex?”

Shrugging, you pick at the skin on your cuticles. It’s a bit weird being this open about it with someone you just met. “Um, it’s not bad. There is foreplay. And I mean, there isn’t a problem with lubrication or anything.” Your cheeks heat up and you dare to peek up at Agatha. 

She’s staring at you with an intense look. It makes a strange feeling grow in your stomach, something akin to arousal if you had to put a name to it. 

“Are you actually attracted to the people you’re having sex with?” 

“What?—Of course,” you snap. She holds up her hands in defense and writes something on the notepad. But now that you think about it, and not that you’d ever tell her, you’re not sure that you have because you’ve never had the physical reaction you’re having to her with anyone else. 

Which is just great, really. Leave it to you to be attracted to your sex therapist, the one person who is arguably off-limits. 

Then you start to wonder if this happens often for her. Do her other patients blur the lines, start associating her with sex? You don’t actually know what you’re going to be doing in these sessions, but you could definitely see some lines being crossed in your head. 

“Are there any needs you have that might not be fulfilled in your sex life? Any kinks, fetishes, things you like that you aren’t engaging in that could bring you pleasure?” she asks, looking at you expectantly. 

How can she be so calm when it feels like you’re about to explode? “Not that I know of,” you answer hoarsely. 

“Hm. No choking or bondage or pain?” 

You choke on your own saliva. “I mean, I’m sure I like it as much as the next person, but it’s not necessary.” 

A wry smile plays on her lips at your attempt at deflective humor. “Daddy kink? Mommy kink? Degradation? Praise?” 

“I…I don’t know,” you rasp. For the first time in almost a year, you think you might actually want to touch yourself. 

Agatha thinks for a moment. “Well, first of all, you might want to experiment a little and see if there’s something you might like that will enhance your pleasure. A lot of patients find that impact play and things like that actually help clear your mind so you’re able to focus on just the sensation.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. How do I experiment? Can you help me? 

“But another thing you can try is sexual mediation. It centers around the practice of mindfulness and it’s a focus on sensuality and the current state of your body. Do you have a partner who can help you with this?” 

Shaking your head, you think you might see a gleam in her eyes. 

“That’s okay. You first want to find a quiet place with no distractions. Your bedroom would be a great place. Dim the lights, maybe light a candle, whatever helps set the mood. Sit on the floor and get comfortable; you can either lie down or sit up—”

“Do I wear clothes?” you interrupt, feeling bad immediately. 

She just smiles gently. “You can wear something loose or nothing at all, whatever your preference is. You can play music if that will help you tune other things out.

There’s a visible difference in her demeanor now, almost like she’s coming alive. Her hands gesture animatedly and her pupils are blown out and looking wildly all over your body. 

“Close your eyes and try to remain aware of your surroundings. Pay attention to your body, your breath, and any sounds. As you inhale, pull the air into your abdomen and imagine the stress leaving your body as you exhale. If stray thoughts get in, just accept them and move on. Visualize your body—visualize your desire. I like to tell my patients to think of it as an orb inside you. It starts out small, in your vagina, and then it grows bigger and spreads throughout you. Feel it spread.” 

Your chest is rapidly falling and rising, a sheen of sweat beading on your forehead. There’s an ache inside you right now—your orb of desire is red-hot and throbbing. 

“Try to be aware of your own body and what you’re feeling. The goal is heightened awareness, which can lead to increased arousal. If you have a partner, once you’re done visualizing yourself, shift that focus to your partner and think about how they’re feeling. If not, you can think about someone you find attractive or just skip this step entirely.” 

It feels like she put that part in there just to taunt you. Like she knows you find her attractive. You can’t think about her though, that would be so wrong. How would you come in here again and look her in the eye, knowing you had fantasized about her?

“Sexual meditation should take about twenty minutes and then you move on to intercourse or masturbation. The hope is that clearing your mind beforehand will allow your body to feel more. There’s things you can do with a partner, but for now, why don’t you start with trying that?” 

Your mouth is suddenly very dry. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Oh—what if it doesn’t work?”

Agatha smirks, eyes traveling down your body and back up to your face. “Then come back and see me.” 

——

You’re almost hoping that this doesn’t work, just so you’d have the excuse to go back and see her. 

But then it would mean that you could enjoy sex again, so that would definitely be the bigger win here. 

The lights in your room are turned off with four lit candles, all smelling like something different, resting on your dresser. You decide to strip down to just your bra and your underwear and sit criss-cross on a pillow on the floor. The silence is too loud so you grab your phone and turn on ocean noises. You’ve always felt more relaxed at the beach. 

Settling onto the pillow and shifting to get comfortable, you close your eyes and try to remember all of Agatha’s instructions. You inhale deeply, feeling your lungs expand, and then push out the air and imagine your stress seeping out of your bones. 

At work, you had to fix what could have been a very bad mistake if someone hadn’t caught it in the nick of time. But there could still be consequences if your boss found out and—If stray thoughts get in, just accept them and move on.

Another deep breath. 

Smell the mix of citrus and vanilla cinnamon and lavender and pumpkin. 

The air conditioning has goosebumps peppering with goosebumps but it keeps your mind sharp. 

The orb of desire. 

You picture it, red and glowing, small as a seed at first. It’s settled deep in your cunt. The image of Agatha smiling at you flashes against your eyelids and the orb grows to the size of a grape. 

No, not her! 

Agatha’s hands flutter around the air while she tells you exactly what to do to make yourself feel good. 

Stop! She’s your therapist! 

The alarm from your mind shatters the focus you had and the orb is completely gone. You grunt as you struggle and try to bring it back. Agatha won’t know if you’re thinking about her—in fact, if the thoughts get you to an orgasm, she’d probably be happy for you. 

But it’s too late. The moment is gone, the now-odorous blend of scents makes your head hurt, and you’re feeling vaguely confused by what is right and wrong. 

You might want to see an actual therapist about your self-sabotaging tendencies. 

——

“The meditation didn’t work?” Agatha asks a week later after taking a long sip from her coffee mug when you go back to see her. She’s wearing a black sweater and gray pants, hair loose, and it’s making your stomach feel fuzzy. You’re not actually sure why you came back but now you still can’t come and you’re sexually frustrated. 

Is that an improvement? Some might say it is. At least you’re feeling something. You had given in a day after your failed attempt at meditating and touched yourself, letting yourself think about Agatha, but each time you got close to an orgasm, you just couldn’t. 

“It helped a little,” you tell her truthfully. “I got in tune with my body and desire like you said. It actually felt good when I moved onto masturbation. But…” 

You trail off so she can hopefully fill in the gaps without you having to say more. She nods knowingly. “I see. It is a lot harder to sexually meditate on your own—it doesn’t always work.” 

The air gets sucked out of your lungs and your heart skips a beat. What is she suggesting? 

Agatha gestures to the ground. “We can try it, if you’d like.” 

A sound tears itself out from your throat, somewhere between a strangled gasp and a choke. 

She smirks. “Of course, without the sex.” 

You nod like it should’ve been obvious, feeling your face flush. “How does it work?” 

“Well first, let’s get comfortable,” she says, putting her notepad down on the side table and standing up. She kicks off her sandals, hikes up her pants just a little, and sits down on the floor, crossing one leg over the other. 

She nods to the spot across from her and you scramble to assume the same position. Now that you’re closer to her, maybe three feet between you, you can see the lines and creases on her face. You think they only make her more attractive. Her blue eyes look more gray today and you try not to look down at her lips. 

“Close your eyes,” she says and you do, enveloping your vision in darkness. You can feel your muscles tense but you roll back your shoulders and take a deep breath. The stiffness lessens. “Good job, there you go.” 

Her murmuring makes you shiver and there’s a slight melodic chuckle. 

“Work on breathing and getting in touch with your surroundings and then go through your five senses and tell me what you’re aware of.”

In…out…in…out…you lose yourself and almost forget what she asked you to do until she moves slightly and reminds you that you’re not alone. 

“I see my orb of desire,” you whisper. She hums softly. “It’s in my lower stomach, red, but small. I hear you, your breathing, and the rattle of the air conditioning. I can smell the candles, vanilla and jasmine. It’s good, calming. I can taste the spearmint from the gum I had in the car on my way here. And I can feel my body.” 

“Good,” Agatha says. “Focus on the orb. Feel it growing with your desire. Think about sex—think about lips on yours, moving down to kiss your chest, your breasts, hands on your hips holding you in place.” 

Your breath comes out gravelly and you imagine Agatha doing all that to you. Her lips on yours, her hands on your hips. You squirm despite yourself and swear that she’s smirking. The orb burns brighter, pulsing in time with your clit. 

When was the last time you were this wet? 

Agatha’s voice drops deeper. “Feel your partner running their fingers through your folds, teasing you, giving you pleasure.” 

A small moan escapes your lips and you’re momentarily distracted by praying that she didn’t hear it. 

“Feel the tension in your core increasing. Feel yourself becoming wetter. Feel your desire expanding and encompassing your body, your mind, all of you.” 

There’s a slight rustling noise and you sense her presence even closer to you now. You think you might be sucking air through a straw with how hard it’s become to breathe. 

Smooth skin touches your hands and you almost jump. Agatha slides her palms over yours and the sparks run straight to your cunt. Your head is spinning but simultaneously is the clearest it’s ever been. 

She takes over your senses—you can hear only her words and the way her tone becomes lighter and breathier, you can see only her in your mind, you can smell the coffee she was drinking, and she’s touching you—completely and utterly overwhelming you until there’s only her. 

You just wish you could find out how she tastes. 

“Focus on me now,” Agatha says, strangely affected. “Think about my body and my feelings. Think about my orb, my desire, and how it might be growing.” 

There’s an ache inside you that won’t go away, an ache that’s filling you up and leaving you hungry for something you can’t have. Your cunt is clenching, trying to draw something in that isn’t there, and when you shift forward just the slightest, there’s a pressure on your sensitive clit that makes you gasp. 

“I want you to think about your partner finally giving you what you want,” she purrs and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Think about that moment when your partner slips their fingers into you, that moment of relief when you get what you’ve been waiting for.” 

It’s like you can feel it through just the touch of her hands on yours. You can imagine Agatha’s fingers gently thrusting into you for the first time, curling and immediately knowing what to do. 

There’s a thrumming under your skin that’s only getting worse, a tightening in your stomach. You haven’t felt this way in so long you almost don’t recognize it. 

You peer through your eyelids just in time to catch her pink tongue darting out and licking her lips and a pang of heat blasts through you. 

Now you can’t stop imagining her tongue on you, delving into your folds, circling your clit. 

Can she see how much of a mess you are right now? Does she like it? The thought makes your breath stutter. 

“Picture your pleasure as a flowing river,” she says thickly, hotly. “Up until now, it’s been hitting a dam. It’s being blocked. But we’re going to break it.” 

Agatha’s fingers start moving against your palm, dragging them up so they’re curled before sliding them back down. It’s soothing, grounding, but also indicative of what she would be doing if she was inside your cunt right now. 

Is that why she’s doing it? 

She presses harder and you can almost feel the stroking movements in your pussy, like she’s fucking you and filling you and proving that there’s nothing wrong with you. Her knees brush against yours and you shiver again. You’ve never felt more alive. 

“Let yourself become one with pleasure. Let it overtake you, let it overwhelm you. Feel your partner’s lips on your skin, sucking on your nipples, feel your walls clench around their fingers, feel their thumb on your clit. It’s so good it makes your eyes water and you’re dripping and you’re about to come—let yourself come.”

For the first time in a year, the dam breaks. The tension snaps. It’s more intense than you remember an orgasm ever being and your mind goes white briefly. 

“Agatha,” you moan softly, jerking your hips forward to prolong your pleasure with some pressure on your clit, and then you realize what you just said. 

Your eyes shoot open, a hazy cloud still hanging over you, to find the color in her eyes almost completely swallowed by a hot darkness. Her cheeks are flushed slightly—you’d probably miss it if you weren’t sitting so close—and her tongue runs out across her lips again. 

“I’m so sorry,” you exclaim, clamping a hand over your mouth. 

She smirks and waves a hand, brushing it off. “I’m flattered, honey. What’s really important is that you had an orgasm. How do you feel?” 

The dopamine is still giving you a high that you don’t want to ever come down from. “Really good,” you answer honestly and she laughs. 

“Well, I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made in only two sessions.” She stands up and you follow. Agatha starts walking to the door and it sobers you up a little for her to be throwing you out so quickly after that. She sees your crestfallen look and winks. “It’s my lunch break. And I need to take care of a few things.” 

The suggestive tone is not lost on you and you feel another burst of heat. Would it be stupid of you to ask if you could stay? 

Yes, you decide. 

But you do ask, “So, is this it, then? I’m cured; I don’t have to come back?” 

Agatha shrugs with a twinkle in her eye. “Totally up to you. Although, I’d recommend at least a few more sessions. Just to make sure you don’t have any more problems. Just because you can orgasm by yourself again doesn’t mean it’ll just come naturally with other people.” 

“Are you going to help me with that, too?” you say before you lose the nerve. 

She just winks at you and your clit aches all the way to the receptionist’s desk. 

You book another session. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

[ivyues]

Paws off my Human! - Seungmin

Meeting your dog was more difficult than Seungmin thought.

After weeks of talking about it, you were finally introducing Seungmin to your dog, Mochi. You had hyped this moment up so much in your head – imagining a sweet, heartwarming encounter where your two favorite beings in the world would instantly click. But there was one problem.

Dogs just… weren’t that into Seungmin.

It wasn’t like they disliked him, but they never seemed to gravitate towards him the way they did with most people. While his friends had dogs practically falling over themselves to get their attention, Seungmin would always get a passive glance before they trotted off somewhere else. It was an ongoing joke, and one Seungmin had accepted with an exaggerated sigh.

Still, you had hope. Mochi was your dog, and maybe that would make a difference.

“Okay, Mochi,” you said, crouching down to your fluffy companion. “This is Seungmin. Be nice.”

Seungmin knelt beside you, his usual confident expression softening into something almost shy. “Hey there, Mochi,” he said, stretching out a hand cautiously.

Mochi sniffed Seungmin’s fingers for a second, and for a brief, shining moment, you thought that maybe – just maybe – this would be the exception. That Mochi would sense how much Seungmin meant to you and would accept him right away.

Instead, Mochi simply blinked, turned his head, and promptly walked away.

You tried to suppress a laugh as Seungmin stared after him, blinking in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he muttered. “I didn’t even do anything!”

You patted his shoulder sympathetically. “He’s just playing hard to get.”

“I didn’t even want his attention that much,” Seungmin huffed, crossing his arms. “It’s not like I care or anything.”

You raised a brow. “Uh-huh. That’s why you’re pouting?”

“I am not pouting,” he grumbled, but the way he glanced at Mochi – who had now plopped down on his favorite blanket, facing the other way – told a different story.

Defeated, Seungmin sighed. “I don’t understand. I’m practically a dog myself.”

Feeling a bit bad for your boyfriend, you decided to step in. “Mochi loves treats,” you suggested. “Want to try giving him one?”

Seungmin exhaled, then nodded. “Alright, fine. I’ll win him over.”

You handed him a treat, and he carefully approached Mochi again. “Okay, listen, little guy,” he said, holding out the snack. “I know we got off to a rough start, but let’s be friends, yeah?”

Mochi eyed the treat, then Seungmin. After a long pause, he finally took it from his hand, chewing happily. Your heart warmed at the sight of Seungmin’s expression – like he had just won a hard-fought battle.

“See?” you grinned. “He just needed a little bribery.”

Seungmin scoffed. “I don’t bribe, I negotiate.”

You laughed, watching as Mochi, after finishing his treat, hesitantly nudged Seungmin’s knee before settling back down. It wasn’t instant love, but it was progress.

Seungmin smirked, clearly pleased. “Told you I’d win him over.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and leaned against his shoulder. “Sure, puppy boy.”

He groaned at the nickname, but you caught the small smile tugging at his lips. Maybe Mochi wasn’t the only one playing hard to get.

Feeling content, you turned your head slightly towards Seungmin, the warmth of the moment making you want to steal a quick kiss. Just as you moved in, Mochi suddenly barked – loud and sharp.

Startled, you pulled back, wide-eyed. Seungmin let out an amused scoff, glancing at the unimpressed fluffball.

“Wow,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Not only do I have to win you over, but now I have to get permission to be affectionate with her?”

You patted his head, suppressing a giggle. “Maybe he sees you as a rival.”

Seungmin shook his head, shooting a wary look at Mochi. “Fine. But for the record, I’m not scared of you,” he told the dog.

Mochi responded by yawning dramatically before turning away again.

You smiled, squeezing Seungmin’s hand. “Looks like you’ve still got some work to do.”

Seungmin groaned. “I can’t believe I have to compete with a dog.”

---

Weeks later, after many failed attempts on Seungmin’s part to win Mochi over, you decided that a walk together might help with their bonding. The crisp spring air was refreshing as the three of you strolled through the park, but the sun weakly peeked through the flowering trees.

Mochi trotted happily by your side, tail wagging with every step, while Seungmin walked a little further from him, hands in his pockets, feigning indifference.

“You know,” you teased, glancing at your boyfriend, “you don’t have to act so cool about it. It’s okay to admit you want Mochi to like you.”

Seungmin scoffed, shaking his head. “I really don’t care that much.”

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Right.”

After a bit more walking, you decided to give Seungmin the leash. “Here, try holding it,” you offered, placing the leash in his hands.

Seungmin hesitated but took it, looking down at Mochi expectantly. “Alright, come on, let’s go.”

Mochi, however, didn’t budge.

Seungmin frowned and gave the leash a gentle tug. “Mochi?”

Mochi simply turned his head to the side, stubbornly planting his paws into the ground.

Seungmin groans. “What am I supposed to do? Drag him?”

You shake your head. “Try convincing him.”

Seungmin kneels down beside Mochi. “Okay, listen. I know we didn’t start off great, but I have treats, and I will literally carry you home if I have to. Your choice.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Seungmin let out an exasperated sigh as Mochi still didn’t move. “Is your dog broken?”

“He just doesn’t respect you yet,” you said, grinning. “Give it a second.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Or maybe he’s just bad-mannered.”

At that, you crouched slightly and clapped your hands. “Come on, Mochi, go with Seungmin.”

Mochi perked up at your voice, then, without warning, bolted forward – leash in Seungmin’s hand.

“Whoa—hey!” Seungmin yelped as he was yanked forward, stumbling slightly as he struggled to keep up with the determined fluffball. You burst into laughter, watching as your dog enthusiastically led a very reluctant Seungmin down the path.

You jogged to catch up, laughing breathlessly at the sight of your usually composed boyfriend being dragged along by a fluffy ball of energy. "I think he likes you now!"

Seungmin shot you a glare over his shoulder, though the corners of his lips twitched in amusement. "Yeah? Then why is he trying to kill me?"

---

You returned one afternoon to your appartment, running late. You knew your boyfriend would already be there so you expected to find him grumbling about Mochi’s latest act of indifference or Mochi keeping his usual distance. Instead, you were met with an entirely different sight.

Seungmin was fast asleep on your couch.

His long legs were stretched out, one arm resting behind his head, the other draped lazily over his stomach. His chest rose and fell steadily, his usually sharp features softened in slumber. The peaceful expression on his face made your heart flutter – he looked so unguarded like this, completely at ease in your space.

But what really caught your attention was Mochi.

Curled up at Seungmin’s feet, your fluffy companion had tucked himself against your boyfriend’s legs, his small body rising and falling in sync with Seungmin’s breath. The sight was almost comical – after all the times Mochi had rejected Seungmin’s affection, he had unknowingly sought comfort in him now.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. Of course, the one time Mochi willingly snuggled up to Seungmin, he had no idea it was happening.

Careful not to wake them, you tiptoed closer, pulling out your phone. There was no way you weren’t capturing this moment. With the softest tap of your finger, you snapped a picture – one that you were sure to tease Seungmin with later.

masterlist

[yueebby]

head over heels – jason todd

synopsis. jason todd is smitten and everyone is tired of it 

contents. fluff, ooc?, so much banter and pining its painful, like can they just kiss already

notes. short moments i had written but decided to combine into one fic. maybe i'll make a pt 2. not proofread...

There have only been a few occasions where Jason’s family has seen him smile. And even then, it was usually a sick smirk as he wreaked havoc on his enemies. So, imagine their shock when they watch their brooding, battle-hardened brother smile at you, of all people.

You.

His sworn enemy. A dramatic title, sure, but fitting. Ever since the two of you met, you had butted heads at every opportunity. Your strong personalities clashed and neither of you were willing to back down. In fact, you had become a fixture in each other’s lives. Two forces of nature neither could ignore.

And right now, the storm was brewing once again.

"You were in my territory again, asshole!" You jab a finger into his chest, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

Jason scoffs, arms crossing as he looms over you. "Your territory? Last time I checked, Bruce took it away after that drug ring went out of control. Don't think you can handle it alone, sweetheart."

Your jaw drops. "Excuse me?!" Your voice pitches up, outrage and disbelief mixing together as your hands curl into fists at your sides.

On the sidelines, Dick nudges Damian toward the exit of the Batcave. "We should go before it gets violent."

"That, or they're finally going to kiss," Tim mutters, eyes glued to the scene. It’s like watching a car crash– horrific, yet impossible to look away from.

Jason doesn’t acknowledge them. He’s too busy watching you, his entire focus drawn to the way your face contorts in frustration, how your lips part as you struggle for a retort.

"You heard me," Jason says, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You were wounded when we found you. Wounded, and alone."

You huff, crossing your arms as if that could protect you from the memory. "I was fine."

Jason gives an exasperated laugh, running a hand through his hair. "You call a gunshot wound fine?"

"Just a gunshot wound," you correct, jaw tightening. "Nothing new around here."

"Just a gunshot wound?!" Jason repeats, incredulous. "I had to carry your stubborn ass out of there!"

"I didn't ask you to!"

Jason exhales sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. "Yeah, well, it’s not like I wasn’t going to!"

The argument should feel tense. But instead, there's a crackling undercurrent, something unspoken lingering in the space between you.

What you don’t see, what everyone else in the Cave does is the way Jason is looking at you. Not with his usual scowl, not with the biting irritation that fuels your bickering, but something softer. 

A smile ghosts across his lips. It’s subtle, but there nonetheless. Like a cat discreetly preening under attention, soaking in every word, every ounce of energy you throw his way.

And the moment his siblings notice, chaos erupts.

“Holy shit,” Tim whispers, eyes wide.

Dick sucks in a breath like he’s just witnessed something forbidden.

Damian, ever the blunt one, sneers. "Disgusting."

Jason barely notices. He’s too busy watching you, fighting the way his lips twitch up again as you huff and look away, cheeks a little warmer than before.

“You are absolutely insufferable, Todd.”

His smile widens, “You know you love it.”

Turns out, you and Jason can't even be within a fifty mile radius of each other without making everyone around you feel strangely uncomfortable.

Dick makes a mental note to never let the two of you spar again. At least, not with an audience. Whenever you and Jason were in the same space, the rest of the world might as well not exist. And the tension. It was painfully suffocating.

The Batcave was dead silent except for the sound of heavy breathing and the sharp clash of fists meeting blocks. Everyone had been watching for the past twenty minutes as you and Jason fought, your movements sharp and teetering between training and an actual fight.

To be fair, no one expected the two of you to take it easy on each other. You never had before.

Jason wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after you landed a solid hit to his jaw. Instead of being pissed, though, he grinned. It was a dangerous thing that made your stomach do an annoying little flip.

"Not bad," he admitted, rolling his shoulders.

You smirked. "Starting to sound impressed, Todd."

Jason lunged, and before you could dodge, he swept your legs out from under you. You barely had time to brace yourself before your back hit the mat, the air leaving your lungs in a sharp exhale. In the next second, Jason was above you, his body caging you in, pinning your wrists down on either side of your head.

And suddenly, everything felt different.

The heat between you wasn’t just from exertion anymore. The way he was looking at you with his weight pressing down just enough to make your breath catch, it wasn’t just about winning a fight.

"Not starting to," Jason murmured, voice lower now, more serious. "I’ve been impressed."

Your throat went dry.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look away from Jason. His pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling against yours, and… 

Oh. Oh no.

He was smiling. And it wasn't a smirk. It was a real, genuine smile.

And worst of all, you found yourself smiling back.

The two of you stayed locked in a daze until you heard a cough in the background, a sharp reminder that the two of you were not alone. It knocks you out of your trance.

You take his short moment of weakness to headbutt him, leaving the male in a daze. Without wasting the split second advantage, it was your turn to pin him down.

“I guess I could say the same for you,” you shrug. “Could be better, but satisfactory.”

Jason groans at the impact of your forehead on his, “Has anyone ever told you that you have a hard head?”

“Yeah,” you snort, looking down at Jason. “You.”

Jason lets out a breathy chuckle beneath you, eyes still unfocused from the headbutt. "Yeah, well. Doesn't make it any less annoying."

You shift slightly, keeping his wrists pinned to the mat, and his grip tightens under your hands. It was instinctual, a sign that he isn’t actually letting you win. His chest rises and falls beneath yours, warm despite the cool air of the cave.

And then, there it is again. That rare, infuriatingly soft smile that no one ever sees.

You freeze for half a second. It’s barely noticeable, but Jason doesn’t miss a thing. His smirk stretches just a little wider, eyes gleaming in that way that makes your stomach twist.

"What?" he drawls, voice lower now, amused. "Distracted?"

You shove off him with a huff, standing up as fast as possible. Jason barely has time to react before you're already a few steps away, arms crossed, pretending like that moment didn’t just happen.

But Jason is still on the ground, propped up on his elbows, looking far too pleased with himself.

Dick, who had been trying very hard to mind his business, sighs dramatically. "For the love of God, just kiss already."

You whip around, glaring. "Gross! Nobody asked you, Grayson!"

Jason, still grinning like an idiot, finally hauls himself to his feet, rubbing the spot on his forehead where you hit him. "Y'know, for someone who acts like they hate me, you sure do love touching me."

You glare at him for enabling their behavior. "That's not true, and you know it."

Jason steps closer, slow, deliberate. Not enough to be threatening, but enough that the air between you tense again. Enough that you feel the heat radiating off him.

He’s still smiling.

Your breath catches.

Jason tilts his head. "Something wrong?"

You curse under your breath, shove past him, and stomp out of the Batcave without another word.

Jason watches you go, still rubbing his forehead, still smiling.

Tim exhales, shaking his head. "That was painful to watch."

Jason just chuckles. "Yeah," he mutters to himself, grin still lingering. "It was."

2 a.m. stakeouts were the worst.

It was cold and boring, the kind of hours that made you question why you even did this hero thing in the first place. To make matters worse, you were stuck on patrol with Jason, so there was no semblance of peace in the quiet Gotham night.

By the time you and Jason finally wrapped up surveillance, both of you were starving. There wasn’t a debate about it, just a silent agreement as he gunned his motorcycle toward a late-night diner on the outskirts of Gotham.

Now, you were sitting across from him in a vinyl booth, watching in mild horror as he absolutely demolished a double bacon cheeseburger.

"You eat like you just got out of prison," you observed, idly stirring your milkshake with a straw.

Jason wiped his mouth with a napkin, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your shake. "Nothing. Just surprised you have manners at all."

Jason chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head. And then, before you could process it, there it was again.

That damn smile. It was the kind of expression no one ever saw on him. The kind of smile that didn’t belong to Gotham’s deadliest vigilante.

The kind of smile that, apparently, only appeared when he was with you.

You felt your pulse stutter in your throat, caught completely off guard.

Jason must’ve noticed, because his smirk returned instantly, cocking his head, surging with a newfound sense of confidence. And you're not sure if you like that. "Like what you see?"

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. "You wish."

Jason leaned back against the booth, arms stretching over the seat as he regarded you with amusement. "Yeah," he said, way too casually, "I do."

You nearly choked on your fries, “Geez, Todd. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were flirting with me.”

Jason raises an eyebrow.

“And if I was?”

“I would have to check to see where the real Jason is.”

“He’s right here.”

You eye him suspiciously. 

Jason watches you carefully, his smirk still in place but not as sharp, not as mocking. There’s something else there. It’s something you can’t quite place, something that makes your pulse stutter.

"You’re acting weird," you say, pointing a fry at him. "Where’s all the unnecessary aggression? The brooding?"

Jason exhales, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t feel like fighting tonight."

You raise a brow, popping the fry into your mouth. "That’s a first."

He leans back against the booth, arms stretching lazily over the seat, but there’s tension in his shoulders, in his fingers tapping idly against the vinyl. "Yeah, well," he muses, eyes flicking to you, "arguing with you is exhausting."

"You love arguing with me," you counter easily, leaning back to mirror his posture. "You start half of them."

Jason hums, tilting his head as if considering it. "Maybe," he allows. Then, after a beat, "Maybe I just like getting a rise out of you."

Your breath catches for half a second. 

Jason’s watching you now, really watching you, his gaze too steady, too knowing.

You force a scoff. "So what I’m hearing is, you’re an instigator."

Jason grins at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "You always read too much into things," he says, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, he almost sounds amused.

Your stomach twists uncomfortably. You blame the fries.

Silence stretches between you, not awkward, but charged. There’s an awareness now, a shift in the air, like something unspoken lingers just beneath the surface.

Jason looks at you, and for the first time tonight, his smirk fades—not completely, but just enough.

Just enough that the teasing falls away. Just enough that you catch a glimpse of something softer.

Something terrifying.

You don’t know who looks away first, but when you do, your heart is hammering a little too hard against your ribs.

Jason clears his throat, reaching for his drink. "So," he says, back to casual, back to easy, "you gonna finish your fries or what?"

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you push the basket toward him. "Knock yourself out, tough guy."

Jason takes one, popping it into his mouth. He doesn’t say anything else, but when you glance at him again, there’s that damn smile.

It’s subtle, but it was just for you.

Across the comms, Dick sighs, exasperated but entertained. “Do they have any idea we can all hear them?”

[zorosangell]

Hi!!! First off I wanna say how AMAZING ur writing is like truly WOW. I loveee how you write jealous Zoro, but I neeeedd some jealous, possessive reader. Reader don’t play about Zoro just as much as he don’t play about her. You can also totally add some spice if you want *wink wink*

⛥ﾟ・。 stall

synopsis: after you catch a girl trying to spike zoro's drink, all hell breaks loose... hell being you.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, a whole lot of profanity, reader's crashout is incredibly valid, reader is a BADDIE, nami is a down ass bitch, girl talk, zoro looooves his girl.

a/n: i'd be this crazy too if I had zoro as a bf

"Look at her! All giggly and shit... he's never said anything that funny his whole life," you huffed, brows furrowed and lip jutted in a pout as you watched from the window of the bathroom door.

"She is kinda hammin' it up," Nami agreed, peaking along with you. "But that doesn't explain why you dragged me out here."

"'Cause I needed someone to spy with. And I didn't wanna look crazy doing it at a table."

"Hon', you look crazy now!"

"Hey!"

With a harsh sigh, you came off your tippy-toes, your heels making a soft clack against the bathroom tile as you turned to your red-headed friend.

"I do not!"

"(y/n), you are in your best dressed while stalking your boyfriend from the grimy bathroom of a dive bar," she deadpanned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I love you... but this is insane."

Slowly, you deflated, shoulders slightly sinking at the facts presented for you.

It did look kind of crazy.

'A warranted kind of crazy...'

The girl out there with the annoyingly silky hair and infuriatingly beautiful dress had been practically throwing herself at Zoro since the moment she saw him.

And it had only been a week since you and the crew arrived at Asaashi.

The Sunny was in need of repairs, so the crew docked at a nearby port island in order to give Franky enough space and time to fix her up.

And guess who happened to be the harbormaster?

Every day, without fail, she had managed to tail your swordsman, following him and showering him with praise whenever she could.

You hadn't had not two seconds alone with him before she came barging in with some excuse like a pirate crew she needed help collecting from or boats she needed help destroying.

You knew Zoro had never—and would never—entertain her advances, but being his girlfriend, you couldn't help but feel some type of way.

"She knows exactly who I am, and she knows exactly what she's doing," you stated, firmly, pointing at the window. "I can't just sit around and do nothing, Nami."

"Well, hanging out in the bathroom surely isn't helping."

With a sigh, she stepped closer, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"You've got more history with that idiot than that girl could ever know. And if you actually think she has a shot with him, then maybe you aren't as smart as I thought you were..."

"Hey!"

Amused, Nami let out a small snicker, before focusing on the task at hand.

"You're his girlfriend. And you've got every right to walk out there and plop yourself down on his lap. Kiss him! Shove your tongue down his throat! Lay your claim, girl! Men do it all the time."

Surprised, your nose scrunched.

"Really?"

"You think Zoro starts getting hot and heavy with you whenever Sanji's around just for fun?"

She paused a moment, thinking about her statement.

"Well... yes, for fun, but it's also a power-play."

Shaking her head, she returned to her point.

"So be bold! Take charge! Show that bitch who's boss!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

With new determination, you turned on your heel, throwing the bathroom door wide open and storming out.

Only to immediately rush back in.

"She's coming! Hide!"

"(y/n)!"

Quickly, you snatched up Nami's wrist, dragging her into a stall and shutting the door just in time for the woman and her friend to walk in.

"Oh, my god, Siva, the guy you're talking to is so hot," the friend commended, audibly plopping her bag down on one of the sinks. "Where did you find him?"

"At work," she smirked, going straight for the mirrors to check her makeup. "His crew's been docked here for about a week. We've been getting to know each other better."

"I'm surprised a man like him isn't snatched up already," the friend remarked, slowly gliding the bright red lipstick across her lips.

"Oh, he is," Siva grinned, her lips curling in an almost witch-like expression. "But she's practically out the picture already."

At that, anger began to bubble in your stomach, your brows furrowing at the statement.

'Oh, she fuckin' didn't.'

Just as you were about to open the door, Nami looped her arms under your armpits, frantically holding you back.

"Clearly not enough. He hasn't touched you all night," the friend reminded, beginning to touch up her eye shadow.

"All week," Siva corrected, annoyed, as she grabbed something out her dress pocket. "But this little baby's gonna change all that."

You and the navigator paused your struggle for a moment, brows quirking as you both peeked in the crack of the stall to see what she was holding.

It was a small bottle.

"Few drops of this in his sake and he'll be up for anything."

"Few drops? He'll need ten bottles just to get a buzz," the friend scrunched her nose.

"Nuh-uh. Whole bottle's enough to kill a dragon."

You were clenching your fists so hard, your knuckles were turning white.

"What about the girlfriend?" the friend asked, amused.

"What about her? She'll be old like last week's shoe sale. Tossed out and left with the trash."

"Girl, you are bad..."

"It's good to be."

"Y'know what's gonna be really good?!"

Without hesitation, you kicked open the stall door, the resounding boom scaring the shit out of them

"When I kick your fucking ass!"

Seamlessly, you kicked off your heels before launching forward, grabbing Siva by her silky hair and letting off a rapid-fire round of punches, her poor balance easily taking you both to the ground.

"My extensions!" Siva shrieked as you tossed a clump of fake hair, attempting to lift her arms in order to shield her face.

"Siva!" the friend gasped, quickly moving to assist. "Don't worry! I'll get her!"

"Get who?" Nami scoffed, hopping on one foot as she attempted to take off her heels and take out her earrings. "You're not jumping my girl, bitch!"

Stalling for time, Nami stepped on the girl's toes with the point of her heel before finally managing to get it off, promptly snatching her up before she could grab you.

"Get the fuck off me, you fucking cunt!" Siva spat as you continued to throttle her head.

"Shut the fuck up!" you barked, tossing her into a tiled wall.

"Oh, that is fucking it!" she growled, brows furrowed and newly invigorated.

"C'mon, bitch! I'm right here!"

With a roar of anger, she charged you, slamming you both against another wall before you flipped her over and tackled her out the bathroom, taking the door completely off its hinges.

"Keep fuckin' trying me, hoe! I'm not scared of you!" you spat, the two of you right back where you started as you grabbed her hair once again, slamming her head against the hard wood of the door—Nami still being in a fist fight with the friend in the bathroom.

"Ohhhh, shit! Cat fight!" a random patron exclaimed, calling the attention of the entire bar.

Everyone cheered, letting out shouts of oohs and aahs as you whooped the woman's ass, the sight honestly a marvel as you did so effortlessly, without devil fruit powers nor freakish strength to back you up.

Just will and a whole lot of grit.

Though, it wasn't long before a certain pair of strong arms grabbed you, pulling you away from the woman as you frantically thrashed around like an angry cat.

None other than your boyfriend.

"No, Zoro! M'not done beatin' her ass!" you whined, attempting to wiggle out of his tight grip.

"Yes, you are," he shut down, instantly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We're leaving."

"Nami-swan, please! A goddess like yourself shouldn't dirty your hands with things like this!" Sanji pleaded, attempting to pry your red-headed friend off the other girl.

"Fuck that! This bitch tried to pull my hair out!"

"Yeah! Run away, bitch!" Siva taunted, sitting up from the ground with a painful wince.

"Run away?!" you scoffed, eyes wide. "Oh, hell nah! Zoro, let me go!"

"No," he denied, tossing you over his shoulder before starting toward the door. "Let's go, cook! Hurry the hell up!"

"Give me a damn second! She's got a death hold on her!" Sanji grunted, finally managing to loosen Nami's grip on the friend's neck before pulling her off.

"My fucking teeth!" Siva screeched, cupping at least five in her palm with horror.

"Thank my man, bitch! He's the only reason you're still breathing!" you barked, grabbing a nearby man's drink and tossing it at her. "Have fun suckin' sailor dick, toothless!"

"Fuck you!"

"Eat my ass!" you pulled down your eyelid, sticking out your tongue as you waved around a humongous chunk of hair. "Bald-headed bitch!"

The following shriek was high enough to shatter glass, but it sounded like music to your ears as you laughed, tossing her extensions on the ground as Zoro finally exited the bar.

With a sigh, he started in the direction of the Sunny—per Sanji's instructions—glancing back at you with a raised brow.

"You wanna tell me what all that was back there?" he asked.

Slowly coming down from your high, your shoulders slightly sank, arms crossing over your chest.

"She won't be coming around you anymore," you huffed, firm and final.

At that, Zoro finally realized what this was all about, forcing a small smirk to curl on his lips.

Letting out a chuckle, he pressed a soft kiss against your thigh, his large palm giving your ass a quick squeeze.

"Crazy woman..."

[pholla-jm]

Hii may i ask Monster trio x reader (separately). and that reader Finds out shes pregnant, like how would they react and how would they be during the pregnancy and Maybe after?

tried to be the most specific I could. btw if u dont want to write it feel free to ignore this request.

Anyway have a good day/night! and ty if u take this request

PREGNANT?!

A/N: So this is going to be in 3 parts! Also, sorry it took so long to get it out. Life has been so crazy lately so I barely have time anymore. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Characters: Luffy x reader, Zoro x reader, Sanji x reader. warnings: not really proof read. reader has a female body.

Luffy:

I think that Luffy would be confused at first, but then he would be really excited. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had no idea how this could happen… well you did know exactly how it happened. But you didn’t think this day would come. At least, not this soon. You and Luffy never even mentioned or thought about babies. 

How would he even react?  You knew you had to tell him right away. The longer you waited, the more you would get nervous. 

The tricky part is how you were going to explain it to him. Sure, Luffy can be smart in his own ways… but you weren’t sure of his knowledge on female anatomy. 

With a heavy sigh, you exit the bathroom and head towards the deck. Right where Luffy would be. As you expected, Luffy was chilling on the headmast. 

“Hey Luffy!” You gained his attention. He looks down at you with a large smile, “Hey (y/n)! Want to join me?” He asks and you don’t even have to think about it. 

It’s the perfect place to tell him. No one can hear you and it’s private. Before you can even answer, he wraps his arm around you so that he can pull you up. 

The first thing that pops up in your head is how he is going to have to be more careful now. Not that he isn’t… but there are definitely times when he accidentally threw you into a wall. 

“Where have you been?” He asks as soon as you settle down in front of him. “Restroom. There is actually something I want to talk to you about.” 

Luffy can sense the seriousness in your voice and he knew that this wasn’t a time to joke around. “Yeah.. what is it?” “Umm… so I noticed that I was late to my period…” Luffy tilts his head and you can tell that he doesn’t exactly know what that means. 

“Long story short, I’m pregnant.” You felt a sense of relief come off your chest as you told him. Luffy’s eyebrows were furrowed as he looked down at your stomach. 

“You have a baby in your stomach?” “Well, no. Not my stomach. My uterus.” “Which is where again?” 

You grab his hand and put it right where your uterus would be. “Right here.” You whisper and Luffy tries to lean closer to your stomach. 

“Where’s the baby?” He asks, genuinely confused. You laughed a little, “no, Lu. It’s like the size of a pea right now. It’s going to grow over time.” 

Luffy snaps back up, “really?” There is a large smile on his face, and you knew right then and there that Luffy is going to be a great father. 

Zoro: 

I think Zoro would internally freak out and wouldn’t know what to do. Because of this you freak out, thinking negative things. Until Zoro tells you differently. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stared at the double pink lines, nerves started to fill your whole body. Your hands start to shake and the first thing you do is throw away the stick. You moved the trash around, so that stick is more hidden. 

Next thing you know, you’re in your room. Pacing back and forth as thoughts filled your head. 

How were you going to tell him? How would he react? What if you just didn’t tell him? No, that would be ridiculous. He would tell when the bump came in. 

You don’t even notice Zoro leaning against your door frame. 

“Whatca thinking about?” He asks, and you don’t even stop pacing. 

“Thinking how I’m going to tell you that I’m pregnant?” You say without even thinking. It just slipped through. As soon as those words came out of your mouth, you stopped pacing and your heart dropped. 

You look at him full of shock and wide eyes. You didn’t mean to tell him that way. His expression matched yours and you had no idea what was going through his head. 

“Uh-” “How long have you known?” He asks and you shake your head. “I- I just found out. And I was thinking of a way to tell you.” You explain. 

Zoro doesn’t say anything… instead he walks out of your room. Leaving you alone. 

Your heart sinks… you couldn’t believe he just walked out. You had no idea what he was thinking. Well, it couldn’t be good if he just walked out! With an exaggerated groan, you flop down onto your bed. You were frustrated with Zoro and with yourself. 

You don’t know how long you laid in bed with tears flowing down your face. But the sun was gone, and your stomach was rumbling. 

With a sigh, you wipe your face, getting rid of any evidence that you cried. 

There was a knock on your door, and you sat up only to see Zoro. 

You sighed, a frown on your face. “Hey,” Zoro says, holding up a plate of fresh dinner, “I saw that you didn’t come up for dinner. So I.. I um brought it down for you. You know, you can’t starve yourself with the baby.” 

He comes into the room and sits next to you. He puts the plate in your lap without saying another word. It was silent between you two for a moment. You decide to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry… for you know.” You quietly say and Zoro shakes his head. 

He lets out a sigh, “I.. I’m not good with words. But, don’t apologize. I freaked out. I’m worried about how we’re going to be parents as pirates. It’s not safe… or going to be easy.” 

You nod your head, continuing to pick at your food. You didn’t even think about that… and he’s not wrong. 

“But I do know that I will do whatever it takes to keep you and the baby safe.” He says and your head snaps towards him. “Really?” Zoro chuckles, “don’t ever think I wouldn’t protect you. I love you (y/n).” “I love you too, Zoro.” 

Sanji: 

I honestly believe he would know before you do. And he would be over the moon about it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji keeps track of your cycle and your habits. He knows that certain things might throw off your cycle and he even keeps track of that. So when he noticed that you missed your period for the month. Oh boy… he immediately got worried and got you a pregnancy test. 

“Here, I need you to take this.” Sanji says walking up to you. “Oh wow,” You say, grabbing onto the box, “whatever happened to good morning my love? Or how are you?” 

Sanji smiles, places a kiss on your forehead, “good morning. Now go take that my love.” He pushes you towards the bathroom and shuts it behind you. 

“Wow… okay.” You whisper to yourself. 

Ten minutes later, the both of you are staring down at the positive pregnancy test. “It’s sweet… but kinda creepy at the same time that you knew before me.” You break the silence. But Sanji didn’t care about your words. He was about to be a father! “Oh mi amour.” He says pulling you into a tight hug. You can feel the excitement radiating off of him. “We’re going to be parents.” “Yeah… yeah. We’re going to be parents.”

[moshi-tehkitty]

Wind and rain buffeted the miserably wet Paladin and the infant’s thunderous cries continued. The Priest looked over the Paladin’s shoulder. The day was bright and sunny and the ground was dry save for where the Paladin had walked with the storm of a child in tow.

“You are not bringing that child into the chapel so long as it’s screaming,” said the Priest, blocking the doorway, “I don’t need the whole building flooded.”

The Paladin’s lower lip started trembling, “When she cries it rains, and when she gets wet from the rain she cries harder. I don’t know what to do.”

“Then you shouldn’t have bedded a storm cloud,” said the Priest, a disapproving scowl on his face.

“I was trying to save a village from a rampaging water elemental,” argued the Paladin, desperately bouncing the child.

“I’m certain that there were better ways to subdue an element,” began the priest.

The Paladin shook her head and cut him off, “I’m sure someone smarter or stronger could have figured something else out but I was tired from swimming to rescue drowning villagers all day long and to be honest he was hot. And don’t you say ‘how could he be hot if he was a water elemental’ me because I’ve heard it too many times now. He was attractive, he was impressed by my swimming ability, and I needed him to stop the rain before it overflowed the damn and completely flooded the town.”

“Just stay here a moment,” the Priest said heaving a long suffering sigh and stomping back into the chapel. He returned with an umbrella and tried to maneuver it in between the baby and its personal storm cloud. “Do you have dry clothes for the baby?”

“I don’t have a dry anything,” said the Paladin with a pained laugh.

“Right,” said the Priest, scrubbing his hand across his face, “we should have something in the charity store room, let’s just get her dry first. When was the last time she ate?”

“Breakfast?” answered the Paladin, unsure.

“And it is now past lunch and approaching dinner,” the Priest said in shock, “the poor thing’s probably starving!”

The Paladin was now practically in tears, or maybe she was already and it was just impossible to tell with the overall amount of water dripping from her, “I couldn’t stop and feed her. Not with. There were so many people.” The Paladin was now red in the face and looking down in shame, “she isn’t on solids yet and my breast plate doesn’t come off easily.”

The child wailed on.

The Priest shoved the umbrella into her arms and started manhandling her around the side of the building and into the secluded rear garden. “There’s no one to see you here,” he said, beginning to undo the straps of her armor. “Feed the child,” he instructed once she was less constrained, “I’ll return with something dry for the both of you.”

“Wait!” cried the Paladin, “how will you know when I’m done feeding the baby?”

“She won’t be screaming, for starters,” said the Priest, “but if you’re worried about me seeing you undressed you can just stay facing that way and I’ll leave the clothes on the table behind you.” With that said, he turned and walked back to the building to look for spare clothes. “You better not leave the baby on the steps and run while I’m gone or I WILL hunt you down,” he called from the doorway.

"And what is this?" the priest asked sternly, pointing at the squalling bundle. "I...thought the vow of chastity only applied to humans?" the Paladin said weakly.

[misshuntereevee]

Synopsis: You look like the MC, and you actually remember bits and pieces of the myth (not all.) But MC finally shows up, with no memory, and Sylus can’t help but be drawn in. What will happen?

Note: I haven’t written anything in like a month so go easy on me 😅 I also am not beta-read, I just need Sylus simping and begging for forgiveness…

—

Two years ago. The little reminder flits across the screen.

But nonetheless, you sit in your shared apartment -- alone with a glass of wine. No missed calls, no texts.

You weren’t sure when it started. Probably the first time he saw her. She looked just like you. You — just like her. You didn’t think anything would shake how Sylus saw you. His princess. But she obviously did. He found himself torn -- were you his sorceress? Or was this woman?

When you do finally get a message from Sylus, it’s enough to make your heart drop. “I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.”

No mention of the anniversary. Being sneaky, you decide to tap and see where he is. Linkon? Another few tabs and you see the feed of a sidewalk -- with him and Miss Hunter chatting. Your eyes close, your fingers rubbing the bridge of your nose. You feel your hands tighten around the stem of your wine glass until it shatters. You didn’t even feel the glass dig into your skin -- just the blood trickling down your wrist.

She’s wearing your smile. The smile that you give him. And he’s looking at her like she’s you. And as your doppelganger, she’s probably close.

As you treat your wound, you can’t help it. Tears overflow as blood washes out into the porcelain sink.

You’d promised yourself after how your father treated your mother that you’d never let yourself feel this way. Unloved. Don’t get you wrong -- if it had been this once, you probably wouldn’t have cared. But the fact of the matter -- this is the third time. You’d been keeping count.

So you call.

Once. No answer.

Twice. No answer.

By the third unanswered call, your hands tremble. The broken wine glass sits untouched beside you, the clock ticking in mockery. You stare at the phone screen, willing his name to appear, but nothing. Just silence. The kind that suffocates. The kind that makes decisions for you.

“If I’m not your little bird, then fine,” you say, grinding your teeth. You make one more call, this time to your best friend. She answers on the second ring and it’s not long before you’ve made your decision -- you’re leaving.

* * *

He’d call you as soon as he dropped her off.

He promised himself that. And while Sylus had a great memory, he suddenly had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. But he ignores the phone in his pocket as he listens to the woman next to him. Miss Hunter.

He can’t lie and say he doesn’t feel the attraction. But what happened? Why was she here if you were too? And which one was his princess? Which one was the one he was bonded to? He’d never had this linkage bond with you -- no, that only happened with this hunter. That…looked exactly like you.

The phone is ringing again, and Miss Hunter tilts her head. “Aren’t you going to answer that? Might be one of your henchmen.” She teases.

So he glances -- seeing your name, his fingers hover over the screen before pushing decline. “It’s not important right now.” And he shoots the simple text: Don’t wait up.

Walking her upstairs, Miss Hunter turns to face him. “Well, thanks for the ride… maybe you aren’t the monster everyone says you are.”

His lips stretch up in a smile. The words make him feel warm -- the way that for the longest time only you could do. “Careful, kitten. I might think you're softening up on me.”

“Never,” is all Miss Hunter says, before disappearing into her apartment.

He’s almost on his motorcycle when he gets another call. He answers it without looking, convinced it’s you again. “Hello, my little bird,” his voice says softly. The familiarity is settling in now that he knows he can talk to you -- something absent with Miss Hunter. In a way, he can recognize that Miss Hunter will never be able to give him that. But he has to know why she’s here. Why does she exist when you’re right there?

But it’s not your voice that replies. “Oh -- no, it’s Luke, boss. I thought you and the Missus were out on your anniversary date. I was calling --”

Sylus’ grip on his handlebars tightens. “What?” he nearly growls. The blood in his veins turns ice-cold. His knuckles go white, the rich and expensive leather groaning under the pressure. His breath catches in his throat, heart slamming against his ribs. He forgot. Fuck, he forgot. The realization crashes into him like a freight train, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Oh, I just saw the date on your calendar --”

“I’ll call you back,” he snarls.

Sylus knows as soon as he gets past the second ring that you aren’t going to pick up the phone. You never let it ring longer than that. But just in case, he waits until you let it go to voicemail. And then he calls again. And again. If he was a normal man, he’d be a little embarrassed to call so much -- but he wasn’t normal and he didn’t care.

By the tenth call, he’s gripping the device tightly. “'Pick up. Please, my little bird. Pick up.” The call goes to voicemail. Again. His chest tightens. He feels it now—the absence of you. And for the first time, he's truly afraid.

And for a moment, he wondered if he’d panic this much if it was Miss Hunter who was upset. Would he be upset if she was mad at him? Finally, he leaves a message: “Little bird, call me please. You know we need to talk about this.”

You’ll call him back with that. He was almost certain. But as he got closer and closer to your shared apartment, it became clear that you weren’t going to call. And all it did was give him time to think. And he came to the conclusion that you had every right to be pissed.

But he had no idea how pissed you were until he unlocked your shared front door -- and it’s all gone.

Not the furniture, no. But your favorite cardigan by the door? Gone. Your mail slot? Your name was ripped off, and only Sylus’ remained. The further he got into the apartment, the more he noticed was gone. Your brush, your blankets. Each missing item was a knife in his heart.

“Little bird?” He called out, holding onto a shred of hope before noticing a note on the bed. His red eyes narrow, stepping softly toward it.

And the words are enough to make him ball the note into a crumbled mess, and throw it against the wall with a snarling yell:

Sylus,

I don’t know how to write this. But as the weeks have passed since you met my doppelganger, I’ve realized there’s really nothing I can do to compete with myself. I thought our history was enough -- but I guess I can’t win against fate. My only wish is you would have let me know before I dug my claws in.

Like you’d know, my dragon, it hurts to pull them back out. And it hurts even more to see the open wound I left -- I am not sure if it will stop bleeding out.

Take care of yourself,

Your Little Bird

Y/N

The words you wrote echo in your voice in his head. He could see the teardrop stains marking the paper. Little scratch marks -- like you hesitated. And he’s hit with the feeling -- maybe if he’d just answered sooner, he could have stopped this.

And -- how stupid could he have been to pay so little attention that he missed your anniversary? And how stupid was he for still feeling conflicted about Miss Hunter?

But the strongest feeling was this: he needed to see you again. The possibility of not seeing you again… that was enough to make him never visit Linkon again.

* * *

It’s been two weeks since you left. You weren’t from the N109 Zone and you weren’t from Linkon -- so he’d crossed that off his list. But you weren’t in your hometown either. Sylus rode his motorcycle through your old stomping grounds -- and it brought him some comfort to be here. In your home -- since you’d fled the one you’d shared together.

His phone rings -- Miss Hunter.

And surprisingly -- he doesn’t answer.

Because a better notification comes up from Luke and Kieran.

“Hey, Boss! We’ve got sightings of Madam over in Brighton,” they say, happy to give him some sort of good news. Because the last few weeks -- Sylus has been downright vicious in his hunt to find you. To tell you sorry.

“Brighton? Interesting. Send me the coordinates,” he says. The location is a cafe. It’s filled with books, magazines-- all your favorites. That part made sense. There’s slight relief in his thoughts. Knowing where you were was better than not knowing. If you were in Brighton, then you were probably safe. Alive. And not under Ever’s thumb somewhere.

You’re safe. That’s what matters. That’s what he keeps telling himself as he watches you laugh at a cashier’s statement —like nothing is wrong, like the past two years meant nothing. You’re alive. You’re fine.

But the longer he looks -- it’s enough to make him murderous.

It’s the cashier you’re speaking with. You’re laughing…you’re happy. ayou hadn’t smiled like that at him since Miss Hunter arrived… Realistically, anyone could say it was innocent, but now --

He should be the one making you laugh. He should be the one paying too. Jealousy doesn’t come easy to Sylus -- but right now -- he’s understanding how you felt the last few weeks with Miss Hunter. But unlike you -- he thinks to himself as he puts the kickstand on his bike down -- he’s not afraid to step in.

If you thought two years would disappear like that -- you’re wrong. And he’ll prove it. (He has to.)

Please like/reblog for part 2! I am not sure how much I love this or not yet, so let me know if you do. Comments are appreciated but not required. 🫶🏻

[februarysmoonlight]

got your heart in a headlock

aka soft secrets and domestic moments with jason todd

———

jason grew up in fire. all that he is and all he that knows is cigarette smoke and uncaged adrenaline. he never used to pretend to be something different, he knew what he was and he lived with that burden like he did any other. in the past, he never lied to himself, or let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be something else.

something good.

enter you, you who is good and whole and endlessly kind. you with lips full of sugar, arms full of warmth, and eyes full of love. you, who was made with starlight and wonder, who never looked at him like he was a bad dog, like you were capable of being bit. you, who is light and closeness and understanding. who loves him so deeply in a way he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

so when he comes home from his world of ash and blood, he becomes someone who wears your vanilla shampoo, just because he likes to smell like you. he becomes someone who has the time to watch cheesy romcoms and lengthy youtube videos, just because he gets to hold you in his arms. he becomes someone who sleeps in a bed with eight pillows and dozens of stuffed animals, because he can listen to your soft snores all night long. in your home (which you insist is his too), he is not made of jagged, broken edges, he is not unloveable, he is not a violent dog.

he starts to believe that your love could make him something beyond bloody knuckles and restless nights.

he’s your jason, and he thinks that’s all he wants to be. even if he’s not good at showing you how much he cares. even if he has trouble accepting that your kindness and goodness don’t come with ulterior motives or strings attached. even if he can’t be the guy he thinks you deserve, he still loves being your jason. it’s his duty more than his role, he lives to see you smile, to hold you in his arms on rough nights, to kiss you senseless. because you’ve given him a strange sort of hope that makes him believe he can be more than he is.

normally, you’re not able to sneak out of bed without waking him up. vigilantes senses and whatnot make him an infuriatingly light sleeper, but today was one of those rare mornings you managed to slip from his iron grasp and get up to pee without disturbing your sleeping beauty.

you take a second to watch him, smiling softly as his chest falls rhythmically while he breathes. you don’t often get to see him so peaceful, where his body isn’t tense with the weight of the world, his eyes don’t have that worried glare. you like that, at least in his moments of unconsciousness, he doesn’t feel so unfathomably stressed when he’s with you.

you gently close the bedroom door, making sure you’re quiet enough to not let your boyfriend continue to rest. once you hear the satisfying click of the door, you move to the kitchen, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

you turn on some soft music, ensuring that the volume is low enough as not to disturb jason’s sleep, as you work, pulling the ingredients from your pantry, preheating the oven. you crack three eggs into a small bowl, humming to yourself as you go through the motions. you don’t notice jason until he slips his arms around your waist, pulling a yelp from your throat.

he breathes you in, carefully smushing his nose into your hair. he’s so warm you think, you want to live a life in those arms, big and protective and a wonderful source of heat. “tell me i didn’t wake you up.” you wince, leaning back into his chest, looking up at him. he shakes his head, yawning.

“you didn’t, ma.” he says, sleep plaguing is voice. his obvious exhaustion not stopping him from smiling down at you. “what’re’ya making?” a twinge of an accent bleeds into his voice, the jersey he doesn’t care to hide so early in the morning, a part of him you revel in getting to hear.

you smile back, looking back down and continuing your work with the ingredients in front of you. “i’m baking a pie for mrs. lewitski downstairs.” you explain. “her cat just died.” you say, a small pout pushing at your lips.

jason shakes his head, frowning softly. “poor lady. can i help?” he asks, his voice twinging with empathy. he wonders if, before he met you, he would care about such a thing. if he would be the sort of person to sympathize with something as small as a cat funeral without your guiding hand.

you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would.

you nod, pointing at a cutting board and a pile of granny smiths. “cut the apples.”

he nods, pressing a kiss against the tippy-top of your head before he pulls away, a goodbye that feels like torture. “yes ma’am.” he says, carefully taking a knife out of the knife block before heading over to his station.

neither of you talk, lost in the comfort of each other’s company. jason peels and cuts the apples with expert precision, you form the dough for the crust. it’s quiet little moments like these that make up a life together.

“jay?” you ask, after giving up on rolling out the particularly tough dough. “could you give me a hand?”

he looks up from the apples, of which he’s already almost finished (damn those vigilante skills), and gives you a nod. he sets down the knife, coming up behind you, pressing himself against your back.

“of course, baby.” he whispers into your ear, his teeth lightly sinking into your cartilage, just enough to make you shiver. he gently places his arms over yours, holding his calloused hands atop yours. he moves the rolling pin slowly back and forth, putting his strength into the dough.

he pushes dough slowly, his breath hot against your neck. “like this?” he asks, once the dough gets thin enough. again, you shiver, his voice sending little waves through your spine.

“little thinner.” you say, leaning back into him.

“little thinner.” he hums, his voice a low mumble in your ear.

jason todd grew up in fire, he was born in it. but that fire makes him emit a pleasant warmth that you can’t live without. it makes his touch burn against your skin, sending electric shots through your body. it makes him the only person you’ve ever wanted to come home too, the only person you’ve ever been capable of loving, the only person you could ever love. his warmth was made for you, a cocoon of his fire you can only pray surrounds you for as long as you live.

he continues rolling, until he gets the crust rolled just right. truthfully, you extended the moment a little more than necessary, lightly instructing just a bit more, oh wait, can you make it thicker? to allow yourself to bask in the fire a second longer. you can feel a knowing smile pressing into your head, noting how he does move ever-so-slightly slower in service to you.

once he’s done, he pulls away, his hand trailing against your waist, lingering in the small of your back for a second longer than he likely should. he goes back to chopping the apples, humming with a small smile on his face. you too continue your task, making a sugar mixture to pour over the cubed granny smiths.

eventually, you both finish, and he helps you pour the apple-brown-sugar mixture into the dough-lined pie tins he helped you make. his hands are surprisingly gentle with the pasty. you didn’t realize that he was scared of ruining something as delicate and beautiful as something your hands were benevolent enough to create. but he would do whatever you asked, even if he was unsure why you would want his help. he doesn’t create, he destroys.

“can you press a fork against the edges, like this?” you ask, demonstrating how he could press both ends of the pies together. he simply nods, his fingers brushing against yours as he carefully took the silver from your hands. “i’ll check the oven.”

you pull back and open the oven, sticking your hand into the scorching air to test its temperature, earning a small frown from jason. you quickly close the door and turn back to him, moving across the kitchen. your hands slide around his waist, meeting just below his belly button. you lean up, pressing your head into the back of his neck, planting a small kiss against his spine.

“you’re good at that.” you say, watching as he works.

“yeah?” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. he doesn’t quite believe he’s doing less harm than good, but he likes the reward he’s getting for it.

“i should make you my official pie-presser.” you respond, placing another kiss against his neck.

“i’d be honored.”

“you should be.”

“you’re making it a bit hard for me to focus, ma.” he says, shivering as you kiss him again and again, making sure to breath him in.

you smile against his skin. “i only need you to focus until we put these in the oven.” you mumble seductively, breathing hot air into his ear.

he pauses, stiff and still for an entire moment, before his shoulders drop and he returns to work like a man possessed. you squeeze yourself into him, breathing in his scent- a mix of irish spring and leather.

he only moves to put the pies in the oven, giving your arm a squeeze before he pulls away. “how long?” he asks, his fingers brushing over the keypad on the oven timer.

“twenty-five minutes.” you say, leaning back against the countertop. he presses the buttons carefully, before making his way back to you.

he smiles, not just with his mouth, but with those piercing blue eyes you can’t seem to tear yourself away from. his hair, messy from sleep, falls a bit in his face and, well, it’s your job to push it back. once he gets close enough to dip his head down, your hands are all over him, one against his forehead, smoothing his hair, and the other trailing down his arm.

“you’re my favorite helper.” you say, as he leans closer, a grin forming from the smile that had such a hold on his lips.

without warning, his hands slip on the bottoms of your thighs, and he hoists you up on the counter, eliciting a yelp from you.

“jay!” you exclaim, giggling. you spread your legs just enough to make room for him, letting him lean in, placing your arms against his shoulders. he’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“you didn’t think all that help was for free, did you?” he says, moving closer, his lips a breath away from yours. you playfully roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile on your face, or the red that dusts your cheeks.

“and what exactly do i owe you?” you ask, raising a brow.

he leans in closer, his lips taking yours. for a moment, all you are is jason, all you can and ever want to be is a person that he loves. his lips crash against yours, in a perfectly soft rhythm that you two have learned to follow with each other. passion isn’t a word intense enough to describe a kiss like this, especially when compared to the loveless kisses you’ve given your past partners.

this is love.

neither of you want to pull away, but you do. something so good means eventually you’ll have to come up for air.

“y’know, we’ve got—“ jason pulls his head back, checking the oven timer. “—twenty minutes and fifty three seconds before you have to take out the pies.” he points out, his eyes darting back to yours with a mischievous sort of grin. “why not make the most of them.”

you giggle a little bit, like he’s not your jason and you haven’t been in love with him all this time. it’s ridiculous your boyfriend of a year has such an effect on you still, but here you are, a blushing mess of a woman, infatuated with the man in front of you.

“and how would you suppose we do that?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

his grin spreads across his face, and before you can think to do more than flash your dopey smile, he pulls his hands under your ass and picks you up, holding you against him.

you yelp again, giggling as he pulls you closer. your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms meet at his middle back. he smiles up at you, pressing a chaste kiss against your smile, before moving you towards the bedroom, sucking a soft kiss against your neck.

the secret you keep from jason, only because you know he wouldn’t believe you if you dared confess it, is that he is inherently good. yes, he was forged in fire, tossed around by a universe with little care for his happiness or his safety. you’re not sure how he hasn’t realized that that’s what makes him a good man, a man who cares about cat funerals and revels in making you feel warm and loved. you know that he credits you with his goodness, that you’re the reason he loves and deserves to be love, and if he needs you to be that reason, you’ll do it proudly. but jason is good beyond you, a man with unwavering character. that’s why you love him so.

[markleessodalite]

Letters to Lovers: NCT Dream

content: letters that lover!dreamies write to you. some cute and sweet, some a little angsty, some are short and some are a little longer. i wanted to have a lot of variety in these so hopefully i accomplished that

warnings: none that i can think of, chenle's letter is written after he calls reader annoying so if you're sensitive about that i guess maybe don't read that one

a/n: i wanted to intentionally keep the dreamies' roles as just lovers here bc its a vague term that can mean anything, so you can imagine them as whatever that term means to you :) but if you're curious about how i viewed them as i wrote these: mark, jaemin, chenle and jisung as established bfs (jaem is maybe a lil husband coded too), jeno as a friend, haechan as a skinny love of sorts, renjun as a situationship

Mark:

Hey baby! I hope you’re doing well… we’ve both been pretty busy, yeah? I guess that can’t be helped. But I’ve been missing you a lot, and I guess that can’t be helped either. I feel like our signals have been constantly getting crossed lately, don’t you? It just seems like anytime we make plans, one of us gets the time confused, or something else comes up, or one of us is just too tired from everything else going on to make any plans…  Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I’m writing this on paper instead of just texting you. Calling you would be the preferred method anyway, but you’d probably be too busy to answer. I know there’s been a lot of times when you’ve called me, but I was too busy. But anyway, I guess a letter feels more important? Or like… sentimental? That word sounds so dumb right now for some reason.  I guess what I want to say is that I don’t want this weird rut we’re in right now to prevent us from getting closer. I want to turn this into something that makes our relationship stronger instead of weaker. You kind of alluded to that last time we met, that you were getting fed up with how things are right now, but I think you were trying to pretend like you were joking? But I could still tell you were disappointed, y/n. When you think about it, there’s so many reasons why we decided to be together, right? It just seemed so obvious. Like we’re meant to be, as cheesy as that sounds. So I know that right now it kind of looks like this is something that’s gonna break us, but I think we should just change our perspective a little bit. This isn’t like a mountain that’s gonna block our path, its just a hill we have to climb over. And then we can keep on going. Last night I was listening to that one song by The Script, For the First Time, I think you should listen to it too. I think it kinda explains how we feel right now.  Just don’t give up on us yet, okay baby?

Renjun:

Hey y/n. I’m sorry for ignoring your calls. I’ve never liked talking on the phone. I was gonna text you, but I never really found the courage to, or the right words. I still don’t think I have the right words, but I really need to say this. This needs to be said now. I can’t keep putting it off.  That night we spent together, it was amazing. Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t think I’ve ever been that comfortable with anyone before, and I walked away from it feeling something that I don’t think know that I never felt before. I think you thought that I regretted going that far with you or something, but I promise there is nothing about that night that I regret.  And this is where I always get stuck. I don’t know how to say what I want to say from here. I’ve tried to think about how to say it without causing you pain, but I’m not sure that’s totally possible. So I’ll just say it.  We can’t be anything more than friends. I’m sorry. I know we said a lot of things that night that may have given us false hope, or made us think that we should be together, but I’m thinking realistically now. We have nothing in common. We don’t want the same things in life. There’s nothing really bringing us together besides a mutual physical attraction, but that’s not something that can last.  Its not a you problem, believe me. You’re beautiful, and you definitely would make a wonderful partner for someone– just, not me. And I don’t think I’d be good for you either.  So, I’m sorry if I said or did anything that night that may have given you a certain impression. I really, really am sorry. But, I’m not sorry that we got to share that experience with each other.  I don’t know what exactly makes people a perfect fit, but I’ve always imagined it has a lot to do with how a person is raised. Our experiences shape who we are, right? Maybe if I was raised differently, or if you had different experiences, maybe we could have worked out. But, not in this lifetime… But I’ll always be your friend, y/n. Always, until the end of time, in every lifetime.  I love you, my friend.

Jeno:

Y/n, I hope this doesn’t make you feel weird or uncomfortable. I would have preferred to do this in person, but I guess I’m a coward in that way.  Last night you said some things that really made me think. You said that I don’t move very fast, that I just let opportunities move past me. You’re right about that. I think that I’m very comfortable in my own bubble. I like my home, I like my friends, I like my job, so I guess I decided I don’t really need or want anything else. I just like the things I’ve always liked. I like doing the things I’ve always done. I think part of me doesn’t like change either. Or just not knowing what’s coming next. After what you said, I realized I want to change that.  If I’m being blunt, the main reason I want to change that is because I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I don’t think I wanted to admit it at first, because it makes me feel vulnerable in a way, and I hate feeling vulnerable. So I guess my plan was to just… keep it to myself. But I realized if I did that, I could be missing out on so much. I don’t want to miss out on things with you. (I mean, only if you feel the same way, of course)  So, that’s all. I really, really like you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it in person, but I hope this letter conveys what I want to say. Although I don’t think I’m the best writer either to be honest, haha.  I guess just, let me know what you think? I’ll talk to you later, hopefully. - Jeno

Haechan:

Dear Y/n, Ha! See? I told you I have pretty handwriting. It looks like one of those old romantic letters from the 1800’s or something, right? Back when they used a bunch of fancy expressions. Like saying you could swim in someone’s eyes. I wonder who was the first person to ever say that…  Another thing they used to do was put stuff in their wallets, like photos and stuff. My dad had photos of me and my siblings in his. But then he started using Apple Pay like everybody else and now no one carries wallets anymore. What a shame. The whole thing is so romantic– the wallet thing, I mean.  So, here’s what I think we should do: we should start carrying wallets with us, and you’ll put this letter in yours, and you can write me a letter to carry in mine. Isn’t that cute? I’m actually curious to see what your handwriting looks like, I know its not as pretty as mine though.  Okay, I should probably end this so that it will be small enough to actually fit in your wallet. Wait, what if we got MATCHING wallets?  Love, Donghyuck <3

Jaemin:

Good morning, pretty! Sorry you didn’t get to wake up to my kisses, I needed to make an early run to the bookstore before it gets busy (definitely not to get that book you’ve been talking about lately or anything…) I brewed some coffee, I put some in the fridge for you so you can make your iced latte :)  Also, did you know you mumble in your sleep sometimes? I could’ve sworn you said my name this morning, but I was too enamored by your cute sleeping face to really pay attention to what you were saying.  Actually, I realized that I might do that pretty often. I know sometimes you get annoyed with me, for spacing out or not paying attention. I’m sorry for that. It’s really not intentional! Honestly, how can I not be distracted when you’re the most beautiful person in the world? Sometimes when I look at you it takes my breath away– literally, and then I have to focus on breathing and I might miss a detail or two. That usually happens when you wear those pink diamond earrings, they bring out your eyes so well… But I’ve been getting better! At the detail thing, I mean. So hopefully by the time I get back you’ll be awake, and I’ll have a new, collector’s edition of this book for the prettiest person in the world. I love you y/nie! <3

Chenle:

I know a letter slipped under your door is probably the last thing you would expect or want to see, but you’re not answering my texts or calls, so this is my last resort.  I’m sorry for what I said. All of it. I was out of line. I was just angry, and like the immature brat that I am, I just wanted to make you angry too. But I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you, especially since I wasn’t even angry with you in the first place and you were just trying to help me.  I think it hurt my pride a little bit that you had to help me. It made me feel inadequate, or like I can’t do anything. But that’s not something that’s your fault. That’s my own insecurity that I need to deal with, because there’s nothing wrong with receiving help from people that care about you. I don’t know why I was so sensitive about it. I think part of it was that I didn’t want to seem weak in front of you– I want you to feel like you can rely on me, and instead I made you want to avoid me.  But all those things I said, about you being annoying or too much, none of it is true. I was annoyed and frustrated with myself. I could never be annoyed with you. I want you to be around all the time. I want you to come back. I understand if you don’t want to, if I hurt you enough to make you leave for good, I know that’s my fault. But I really, really hope you don’t feel that way. I think that’s all I can say. Please come back. Please.

Jisung:

Y/nie, Happy birthday! I hope you like this gift! I’m sure you probably will. Its all you’ve been talking about lately. You weren’t kidding when you said it was super rare– I had to basically stalk this one eBay account to make sure I won the auction thingie (I’ve learned that I HATE using eBay by the way) So, I can imagine what you’ll say when you get this. You’ll probably be like “something like this is way too special” but that’s… kind of the point.  We’ve been dating for a while, and it’s been mostly casual stuff, but I’m at the point where I want to be serious with you. I want to be your boyfriend, officially. I would have told you this in person, but a letter seems better. Because you said once that you love having mementos to remember good things, so maybe you can keep this letter and it will remind you of a good feeling. At least I hope this letter gives you a good feeling…  So yeah, I’ll leave this gift in your living room and just wait for you to call me when you get it :)  P.S. I know you said the extra key you gave me was just for emergencies and this isn’t really an emergency… oops!

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝒷 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒷 𝓂𝑒𝓃

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Some people fall apart quietly. You were one of them. The weight of existence had always been relentless, pressing down on you like an unseen force no one else could feel. A lifetime of existential crises, quiet detachment, and numbness that never truly faded—it all led you here.

To your quiet space, where the world was silent, where you could exist without pretense, without expectation. But solitude was never yours to keep.

Not when they noticed.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: Anonymous! Some angst pieces feature The Tkatb Men with an MC who has battled deep depression and constant existential crises since childhood. Struggling with emotional detachment, missed classes, and social withdrawal, they turn to self-harm as a temporary escape from the weight of their mind. 

soooo, Is it bad to turn to my "middle school” playlist just to feel something? I’ve been staying positive and relaxing on spring break; I need to be in my feelings when writing stuff like this. T-T

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 

Jericho has a way with words to make you feel better. 

You sat in the deepest part of the library, a place so tucked away that even the dust seemed undisturbed. It was quiet—too quiet, maybe—but that was the point. No one came here. 

No one except, apparently, Crowe.

"You're only here out of pity."

You didn’t bother looking up when you said it. You didn’t need to. The sound of his footsteps had already told you it was him before he even spoke.

There was a beat of silence. Then a soft exhale as Crowe dropped into the seat across from you, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. You knew that exhale—it was the same one he let out whenever he was frustrated but trying not to show it.

"You’ve been avoiding me." His voice was steady, but there was an edge underneath.

"I’ve been busy."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "That’s bullshit, and we both know it."

You clenched your jaw. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need him looking at you like that—like he saw right through you.

Crowe leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His eyes, usually so unreadable, had that sharp focus he got when he was putting the pieces together. 

"You stopped showing up to class. You dropped out of clubs without telling anyone. I damn near had to get our friends to track you down, because no one knew where the hell you were."

You flinched, just barely. So he had noticed. Of course, he had.

“Thier, not my friends—I don’t see why you care so much." You finally looked at him, your expression blank. "You don’t have to play the role of the concerned friend, Crowe. You can go back to your life now. I’ll be fine."

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he was going to snap at you. But instead, he just ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "That’s what pisses me off," he muttered.

"What?"

"You think I’m here out of pity."

You scoffed. "Tell me I’m wrong, then."

Crowe’s fingers tapped against the table—a small habit of his when he was thinking, calculating. Then, without warning, he reached forward and grabbed your wrist. His touch was gentle but firm, his thumb brushing over the edge of your sleeve where the fabric was just slightly worn from being pulled down one too many times.

"I don’t do pity," he said quietly. "I don’t waste my time on people I don’t give a shit about. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care."

His grip wasn’t tight. 

You could pull away if you wanted to. 

But you didn’t.

"You keep pushing people away," he continued, his voice softer now, almost tired. "But I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much you try to make me."

Something in your chest ached at his words, but you shoved it down, deep where it couldn’t touch you. You didn’t want to believe him. Because if you did—if you let yourself think, even for a second, that someone actually cared—what would happen when he eventually got tired of you? When he realized you weren’t worth the effort?

You swallowed, forcing your voice to stay even. 

"You’re wasting your time, Crowe."

He studied you for a long moment, then let go of your wrist, leaning back in his chair.

"Maybe," he said simply. "But that’s my choice, isn’t it?"

The worst part? He said it like he meant it.

Crowe didn’t move from his seat, didn’t take his eyes off you. He let his words settle between you, filling the heavy silence. You hated it—hated the way he just sat there, like he wasn’t going to leave no matter how much you wanted him to.

Or maybe, deep down, you hated that part of you didn’t want him to leave at all.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before leaning forward again, arms resting on the table. His voice softened. "You really think that little of yourself, don’t you?"

You opened your mouth to argue—to throw back some cold, dismissive remark that would push him away—but you hesitated. Something about the way he said it, like it wasn’t an accusation but just… sad, made your throat tighten.

Crowe didn’t wait for an answer. He just shook his head, like he was trying to figure out how the hell to get through to you.

"You act like you're nothing, like people only keep you around because they feel sorry for you. But that’s bullshit. You’re the smartest person I know, and not just in that textbook way—you're sharp. You see things other people don’t. And you're not just smart, you’re…" He exhaled, searching for the right words. 

"You’re strong. Even when you don’t feel like it."

You scoffed, but it came out weaker than you meant it to. "That’s a nice way of saying I’m stubborn."

Crowe let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, you are. But that’s part of it. You don’t just roll over when things get hard. You keep going, even when you think you don’t have it in you." He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. 

"And I hate that you can’t see that. I hate that you think so little of yourself when I—" He stopped himself, sucking in a sharp breath.

You stared at him. "When you what?"

Crowe hesitated. His fingers tapped against the table again, a steady rhythm. Then, finally, he met your eyes. "When I think the world of you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"You matter," he said, and he said it with such certainty it almost hurt. "You’re not some burden. You’re not some pity project. You’re—you’re you. And that’s enough. That’s always been enough."

Your hands curled into fists in your lap. You didn’t know what to do with the warmth creeping into your chest, didn’t know how to process the way he was looking at you—like you were something worth holding onto.

"Crowe—"

"I mean it," he cut in before you could come up with some excuse, some way to dismiss it. "And I’ll keep saying it until you start believing it yourself."

Crowe’s eyes softened as he watched you, but there was something else there too—something unshakable, something that made your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready for. 

You looked away, focusing on the grain of the wooden table, on the faint scratches left behind by years of students who had sat here before you.

You weren’t feeling those feelings anymore. Not really. Not the way you used to. It was like a switch had been flipped somewhere along the way, like something inside you had just… shut off.

And that scared you.

Because even the pain, the hurt, the exhaustion—at least it had been something. At least it had been real. But now? Now it was just numb. Like you were watching your own life from behind a glass wall, unable to reach through, unable to touch anything.

Crowe must have noticed something shift in your expression because, before you could pull away, he reached out—slow, deliberate. His fingers brushed against your chin, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, careful. Like he was afraid you might disappear if he said the wrong thing. "Where’d you go just now?"

You swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes. "Nowhere."

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw, the warmth of his touch grounding in a way you weren’t used to. Crowe never pushed, never forced his way in—but he had a way of making you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be.

"You’re lying," he murmured, his grip steady but gentle. "And I get it. I do. But whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone."

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let the words sink in, to let yourself reach for the warmth he was offering—but the weight in your chest was too heavy.

"I don’t feel it anymore," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t feel anything."

Crowe’s fingers twitched against your skin, his grip tightening just slightly as if grounding himself in the moment. A flicker of something unguarded passed through his eyes—raw, desperate, something he couldn’t put into words. It was brief, barely there, but you caught it.

And then, before you could pull away before you could disappear into yourself again, he leaned in.

His forehead hovered just over yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breath. He wasn’t forcing you, wasn’t taking anything—just waiting, holding steady, like he’d stand there forever if that’s what it took.

"Then let me feel it for you."

His voice was hoarse like the words physically pained him.

"Let me hold it until you can again."

Your breath hitched, something inside you cracking at the weight of those words. You weren’t sure what broke first—your resolve, the numb wall you’d built, or the illusion that you could keep pushing him away forever. But in that moment, something shifted.

His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing you—like he wanted to make sure you were still here. His hands weren’t trembling, but there was a tension in them, a silent plea he wasn’t voicing.

"You don’t see yourself the way I do." His voice was rough, edged with frustration, and something deeper, something almost unbearable.

He let out a slow breath, his forehead dipping against the side of your head, like the weight of what he said was too much to hold upright. "And that pisses me off."

That alone almost made you laugh. A quiet, breathless sound—more disbelief than humor.

Your throat tightened, and your chest ached. Your eyes burned. But you didn’t cry. Not yet.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, someone wasn’t just telling you that you weren’t alone. 

Crowe just proved it.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol had never thought it would be this hard to find you.

He’d skipped his own classes to track you down, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going, not caring that the clock was ticking and he was supposed to be somewhere else. But when he’d gone to your usual spots on campus and asked around, there was no sign of you. 

His heart had dropped lower with every dead end. When he reached your apartment, his gut twisted—he’d thought, maybe hoped, that you'd be somewhere else, somewhere safe, surrounded by other people. But you weren’t.

Sol knocked, but there was no answer. His breath came out in a frustrated puff. His instincts told him to push through, and he did. He twisted the knob, relieved to find the door unlocked, but he froze when he stepped inside.

The apartment was quiet. 

Too quiet. 

The only sound was the faint hum of an old air conditioner, the muffled traffic from outside the window. Everything felt still as if the space itself was holding its breath.

He moved cautiously through the small apartment, eyes scanning the room for any sign of you. There were books scattered across the coffee table, dishes piled up in the sink. It looked like you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. Not for a while.

He moved down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest, as his gaze landed on the bathroom door—half-open, as though you hadn’t bothered to close it completely.

He stopped, instinctively bracing himself before stepping into the room.

The scene before him stopped him in his tracks. 

You were sitting in the bathtub, your knees drawn up to your chest, your arms locked around them as if you could hold yourself together that way. The water was still—too still. It was clear, untouched, yet it seemed to be drowning you all the same. Your hair clung to your face, soaked, strands matted and heavy. You hadn't moved for so long that the water had become cold against your skin, but you didn't care.

Your face was hidden, your eyes closed, and for a brief moment, Sol couldn’t tell if you were asleep or… if you were gone.

A cold panic surged through him, piercing through his chest like ice. His heart stuttered in his ribcage as his breath hitched. He didn’t care about anything else—he just needed to know you were still there, still breathing.

Sol rushed forward, reaching for your shoulder, shaking you lightly at first. But when you didn’t respond, the fear in him began to twist, hard and tight. He shook you again, harder this time, his fingers gripping you with urgency, his voice raw with anxiety.

"Hey." His voice was a whisper, but it trembled with the weight of his panic. "Hey, you okay?"

You jerked awake with a startled shout, your body stiffening in alarm, and immediately you pushed away from his touch. Your eyes flashed open—wide, but unfocused. The fear in your voice was sharp, raw, and you barely registered that it was him standing over you.

"Stop! Go away!" You snapped, your voice thick with exhaustion and frustration. It was bitter, the kind of bitterness that had been accumulating for days, weeks, months. 

The weight of everything you were trying to hide, trying to bury, came spilling out with those words.

Sol froze, his breath catching in his throat. His hands shook as he stood over you, watching your form curl into itself. Your clothes were soaked, clinging to your skin like a second layer, and your hair dripped onto your shoulders, wet strands sticking to your face. 

He couldn't bear to see you like this—this distant, this unreachable.

"What’s going on with you?" Sol demanded, his voice firm but laced with the underlying concern he couldn’t hide. His brow furrowed, and there was a weight in his tone like he was pleading without saying it. 

But you didn’t answer. 

You just turned your face away, pushing your hair back with a dismissive motion, trying to rid yourself of the mess both in your mind and around you.

The silence stretched between you both, and Sol’s patience started to wear thin, a hint of frustration creeping in despite his worry. He rolled his eyes, not at you, but at the situation itself. He couldn’t stand the way you kept pushing him away, pretending that you didn’t need help, pretending that you didn’t need someone to care.

Without waiting for an answer, Sol turned on his heel and went to the linen closet. You barely noticed his movements at first, too lost in your thoughts to even register that he had left. 

When he returned moments later, however, he had two freshly folded towels in his hands.

You blinked, your mind foggy as you tried to piece together how he had found them so quickly. You were lost, disconnected from everything but the fog of your head.

You sighed, exasperated, the weight of everything suddenly pulling at your chest again. "Go away." The words were barely more than a whisper, but they felt heavy on your tongue.

Sol didn’t budge. He took a step closer to the tub, his brow set in determination. But before he could say anything, you pushed him away, your hands weak but insistent.

"I don’t want you to touch me."

His expression softened, but the concern was still there, etched into every line of his face. He stood still for a moment, allowing you the space you wanted. 

You were pulling further into yourself, retreating, and he hated that. But he wasn’t leaving—not until you saw he wasn’t going anywhere.

Sol stood there, his gaze hardening as he watched you pull away, trying to retreat further into yourself as if you could escape the moment. That familiar edge of anger sparked in him—the kind that always flared up when he felt helpless. 

When he could see you falling apart right in front of him, all he could do was stand there and watch you push him away

"Try me," he growled under his breath, his voice low and controlled, but the roughness in it was undeniable. It was like he couldn’t hold back the frustration anymore, the pain of seeing you like this, watching you destroy yourself without any help, without any sign that you even wanted to fight it.

He took a step closer, his heart pounding louder with every second. 

The sound of it was deafening in his ears, but it only pushed him forward, closer to you.

You turned your face away, but Sol wasn’t having it. He reached out with firm, purposeful hands and grabbed your wrist, not roughly, but with a hold that wouldn’t allow you to pull away. His fingers brushed over the raised scars on your skin, and he sucked in a sharp breath. 

The reality of it hit him harder than he was prepared for, like a slap to the face. He swore under his breath, the anger shifting to something darker, something he couldn’t fully express.

"Why?" he asked, quieter now, almost afraid of the answer but still needing to hear it. His voice wavered with a vulnerability he wasn’t sure he wanted to show, but it slipped out anyway. He couldn’t help it—he needed to understand. 

Why did you keep doing this to yourself?

You remained silent, your lips pressed into a thin line, a stubborn refusal to give him any of the answers he was desperate for. His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, as though he was trying to tether you to him, not letting you slip away.

"You can talk to me," Sol said, his voice softer, more pleading now, despite the cold anger still simmering under the surface. "I don’t care how messy it is. I don’t care how bad it’s been, or how bad you think it’ll sound. Just—don’t do this. Not alone. Not anymore."

His words hung in the air, fragile and thin, like a thread that could snap at any moment. And for a fleeting second, you almost wanted to reach for it. 

Almost. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

 The thought of letting someone see you like this, letting them truly see the mess inside—you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let anyone in.

"I don’t need saving, Sol." The words came out cold, clipped like you were trying to freeze everything between you both. But even as you spoke, your voice trembled, betraying you.

Sol didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. If anything, his hold on your wrist tightened just a little more, like he was trying to keep you anchored to him, trying to keep you from disappearing into yourself.

"Good," he said softly, his voice steady but filled with an honesty that almost took your breath away. "‘Cause I’m not trying to save you."

He stepped even closer, his breath shallow as he dropped down to sit beside the tub, his body close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, even with the chill in the air. 

His face was just inches from yours now, his gaze locked on yours. 

"I just don’t want to lose you." His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, it almost felt like everything else stopped. His words were simple, but they hit deeper than anything else he could’ve said. 

He wasn’t trying to fix you. He wasn’t trying to save you. 

He just didn’t want to lose you.

Sol let the silence stretch between you, the weight of his words pressing down like a hand around your throat. His grip on your wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go, his fingers ghosting over the scars with an almost reverent touch. His breathing was slow, controlled—but you could feel the tension radiating off of him.

Then, without warning, he moved. Swift and sure, like he had already decided what to do before you could even react.

He grabbed the towel he had brought earlier, shaking it out before reaching for you again. You stiffened, instinctively trying to shrink back, but Sol didn’t give you the chance.

"Enough." His voice was firm, brooking no argument as he pulled you forward, wrapping the towel around your shoulders. The fabric was thick and warm against your soaked clothes, a sharp contrast to the chill in the room.

You didn’t protest when he dragged you up. Maybe you were too tired. Maybe you didn’t want to fight him on this anymore. The moment your legs wobbled from the sudden movement, his arms wrapped around you, pressing you against his chest.

The warmth of him was suffocating.

"You’re shaking," he muttered, tightening his hold. His fingers dug into the fabric of the towel, pressing into your back as though he could physically hold you together. "Jesus, Pumpkin… what the hell are you doing to yourself?"

You swallowed, your throat dry. You could feel the steady thud of his heart against your ear, and could hear the controlled breaths he was forcing himself to take. But it was the slight tremor in his voice that made you feel like the worst person in the world.

You didn’t deserve this.

You didn’t deserve him.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or hold on. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. His warmth was a stark contrast to the coldness you had wrapped yourself in for so long, and for once, you let yourself feel it.

"Why are you here, Sol?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, cracking at the edges.

"Why the fuck wouldn’t I be here?" He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You think I’d just ignore this? Ignore you?"

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. What were you supposed to say? That he should have ignored this? That it was easier that way?

Sol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before cupping the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. His fingers wove into your damp strands, grounding you with his touch.

"Hey now," he said, voice firm, unwavering. "If you think for a second that I’m gonna sit back and let you drown in this—" his grip on your hair tightened slightly, quiet desperation seeping into his words—"you don’t know me as well as you think you do."

The guilt hit like a punch to the gut.

You tried to look away, but he didn’t let you. His grip was gentle but firm, his thumb brushing against the back of your neck in a way that made you shiver.

"I don’t need saving," you repeated weakly, but it felt like a lie now.

"Yeah?" Sol’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a frown. "Then tell me—if I leave right now, if I walk out that door and don’t come back… are you gonna be okay?"

You opened your mouth to snap yes, to shove him away and tell him to leave you the hell alone. But the words caught in your throat.

Sol’s eyes softened, but there was something sharper lurking beneath. Something calculating. He saw the hesitation, the way your lips parted but no words followed, and he seized the moment.

"That’s what I thought," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your forehead.

You clenched your jaw, hating how easily he could tear through your defenses. Hating how right he was.

He sighed, his grip on your hair finally loosening as he rested his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"I’m not going anywhere, Pumpkin." His tone was softer now, almost tender—but there was something unshakable beneath it, something that made it clear you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

"So stop trying to make me."

You hated how much you wanted to believe him. How much you wanted to fall into this warmth, this safety he was offering. But deep down, you knew—this wasn’t just concern.

This was possession.

And Sol had no intention of letting you go.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo wasn’t the type to care about people’s problems.

At least, that’s what he told himself. It was easier that way—easier to stay detached, to keep his own peace intact. But you?

You made it impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t anything obvious. You still showed up, still spoke when necessary, and still wore that same carefully constructed expression that kept everyone from prying too deep. The others didn’t see it—they weren’t looking hard enough.

But Geo? He noticed.

The way your laugh didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. The way you lingered at the edges of conversations, only half-present. The way your shoulders carried just a little more weight than usual.

It pissed him off. Not at you—but at whatever had put that weight there in the first place. And the fact that no one else had noticed? That made it worse.

So when you weren’t in your usual spots after classes, he felt it. The unease settled into his chest like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and no matter how much he wanted to brush it off, he couldn’t.

Fine. If you weren’t going to say anything, then he’d figure it out himself.

The library? Empty.

Your club meetings? No sign of you.

Geo’s jaw tightened, his annoyance growing the longer it took. But then—then he found you.

The university greenhouse.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh blooms, the warmth of the sun filtering through the glass ceiling above. And there you were, sitting on a worn stone bench, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed in a way that felt almost unnatural.

For a second, he just watched.

You looked peaceful. Or maybe… maybe you were just pretending to be.

Geo hated that he couldn’t tell.

With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped forward, his footsteps quiet against the greenhouse floor. He didn’t say anything at first, just standing there like he was waiting for you to notice him. When you didn’t, he clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Didn’t think you were the type to nap in the middle of the day," he muttered, his voice just loud enough to cut through the stillness.

Your eyes flickered open, but you didn’t look surprised. Like you had already known he was there.

"Not napping," you murmured, voice slow, distant. "Just… thinking."

Geo sighed. "Yeah? And how’s that going for you?"

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head slightly. "Too loud."

Geo frowned at that. The greenhouse was silent—just the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the fans overhead. But he knew that wasn’t what you meant.

He moved closer, his gaze sharp as he took you in. The way your fingers curled slightly against the stone bench. The way your shoulders were tense, even if you were trying to look at ease. The way your eyes had that tired look—the kind that sleep wouldn’t fix.

Yeah. Something was wrong.

And it was worse than he thought.

"...You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" His tone was casual, but there was an edge beneath it.

You huffed, shaking your head. "Nothing’s going on."

"Liar."

That made you pause.

Geo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don’t do the whole ‘prying’ thing. But when someone who’s usually pretty good at keeping their shit together suddenly starts falling apart under the radar? Kinda hard not to notice."

You tensed, and he caught it immediately. He was right.

"...You’re imagining things," you muttered, but it was weak.

Geo just scoffed. "Yeah? Then why are you out here, alone, sitting in a greenhouse like some tragic main character?"

You shot him a glare, but he just raised an eyebrow, unfazed.

"Thought so," he muttered.

Silence stretched between you.

You swallowed hard, your gaze fixated on the greenhouse floor, tracing the cracks between the stone tiles like they held answers you couldn't find anywhere else.

Geo wasn’t the type to comfort. He wasn’t the type to pry, either. If you wanted to talk, you would. If you didn’t, fine—he wasn’t going to beg for your feelings. But he also wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t see what was happening to you.

And for some reason, that made it worse.

"Listen." He exhaled sharply, his voice carrying that familiar edge of impatience, but not with you—never with you. More like he was frustrated at the situation itself, at the fact that he even had to say this.

"I don’t care what it is. I don’t care if it’s stupid, or if you think I won’t get it, or whatever excuse you’re using to keep your mouth shut." He leaned back against the bench, just close enough to remind you he was here, but not close enough to smother you. "Just don’t sit here acting like you’re fine when you’re clearly not."

His voice wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. But it was real.

And for some reason, that made it harder to breathe.

Your throat felt tight, something hot building behind your ribs, but you forced it down. You were good at that—at shoving things so deep inside yourself that they didn’t exist anymore. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Geo let out a slow, heavy sigh, his shoulders rising and falling as if this whole thing physically exhausted him. "I don’t like worrying about people," he muttered. "Kinda hate it, actually."

His words shouldn’t have stung, but they did.

His eyes flickered toward you, sharp but unreadable as if debating whether to say the next part.

"But you?" His voice dipped lower, quieter, but somehow heavier. "Yeah. You make that shit real hard to avoid."

That did something to you.

You weren’t sure what exactly, but it hit deeper than you wanted it to. Deeper than you expected it to.

Your fingers curled slightly in your lap, gripping at the fabric of your clothes like you could anchor yourself there. "I don’t mean to," you murmured.

"I know." Geo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression remained unreadable, but his voice softened—not in the way people spoke to you with forced pity or careful concern, but in a way that felt... real.

"...Doesn’t change the fact that I still do."

And then—plink.

The first raindrop struck the glass above, a soft, barely-there sound. Then another. And another.

Within moments, the greenhouse filled with the rhythm of rainfall, steady yet heavy, each drop echoing against the glass panels. The scent of damp earth rose around you, rich and grounding, as the world outside blurred into a hazy wash of gray.

Geo exhaled sharply, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course, it had to start raining.

The timing felt cruel in a way—like the universe had been watching the whole time and decided this moment needed an extra layer of weight.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. But in the quiet of the downpour, in the stillness of the greenhouse, something in the air had shifted. The truth was, he wasn’t the type to comfort people. Wasn’t the type to sit around and hold hands, whispering empty reassurances. 

It wasn’t something he was used to. 

It wasn’t something he did.

Silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. The only sound was the rain pattering against the greenhouse glass, the steady rhythm filling the space between words you couldn't say.

Your chest ached. Not in a sharp, unbearable way—but in a dull, bone-deep exhaustion that never seemed to fade, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

"...Classes are draining." Your voice barely rose above a whisper, but somehow, it felt deafening. "I feel like I go through them in a daze. Like I’m there, but I’m not."

Geo didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze burning into you. So you kept going because now that you started, it was hard to stop.

"I wake up, I go to class, I do what I have to, and then... I just exist." You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "And it never means anything. I don’t feel anything. I just... am. And I don’t even know if that matters anymore."

Your hands clenched tighter, knuckles turning white. The words felt too big, too raw, too exposed. It was terrifying.

And for the first time, you dared to look at him.

Geo’s jaw was tight, his fingers twitching against his knee like he was holding himself back. His usual sharp, cocky demeanor had faded into something else—something serious. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” His voice was quiet, but firm.

You didn’t look at him. “Doing what?”

His jaw clenched. "Acting like you don’t matter."

The silence that followed was thick—almost suffocating. And then, you laughed. Bitter, empty.

“Because I don’t.”

Geo stilled. The way you said it like it was just a fact like it wasn’t something that should sting—it pissed him off. He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he studied you, taking in the way your shoulders curled inward, the way your hands clenched in your lap like you were bracing for something. Like you believed what you just said.

Geo clicked his tongue. "Bullshit."

Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t say anything.

Geo exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t have the right words, the right softness people probably expected in moments like these. But he did know one thing.

His fingers moved before his mind fully caught up, wrapping around your wrist with a gentleness that contradicted the sharp edge in his expression. His thumb traced over the fresh marks you had tried so hard to keep hidden, his touch warm against the raised skin.

Geo didn’t say anything at first, just staring—his face unreadable, but his grip steady. Then, his jaw tensed, his voice coming out quieter than before, rough with frustration.

"You matter to me."

Your breath hitched. Something in your chest tightened, an ache you couldn’t quite place.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you turned your face away, shaking your head. "You’re wasting your time."

Geo scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Then let me waste it."

Before you could react, Geo pulled you forward, shifting you into his lap like it was nothing, like he had already decided you weren’t going anywhere. His grip was firm but not forceful, an unspoken message that he wasn’t about to let you slip away—not now, not like this.

Your breath hitched at the sudden closeness. His face was just inches from yours, the warmth of his skin brushing against the coldness that had settled deep in your bones. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, hear the faint hitch in his breathing as he realized just how close you were.

He still didn’t let go of your wrist. If anything, his fingers curled slightly, holding you there like an anchor, like some stubborn part of him thought that if he kept you close enough, he could stop you from drifting any further.

Geo’s expression was the same as always—mildly annoyed, slightly flushed—but when he tried to speak, he faltered. “I—uh, I just—”

His voice caught. He clenched his jaw, his usual sharp confidence replaced by something uncharacteristically awkward. His ears burned red, his gaze flickering away for half a second before snapping back to you. For the first time in your life, you saw Geo flustered.

And it was hilarious.

The sight of him—one of the smoothest, most put-together guys you knew—stammering like an idiot while trying to be serious? 

It was too much.

A laugh broke past your lips before you could stop it.

Geo froze.

Your shoulders shook slightly, exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, but you couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t fake.

It was real.

And somehow, despite everything, it felt good.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uselessness that always clung to you—the one that whispered you were just a burden, that you didn’t matter—faded into the background.

Geo huffed dramatically, shifting slightly but not letting you go. "Oh, great. Now you’re laughing at me."

You buried your face into his chest, still shaking with quiet amusement. "Because you suck at this," you mumbled, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

"Yeah, well—" He was about to fire back, but then he heard it again.

Your laugh.

Not the usual forced chuckle. Not the empty amusement you gave when you didn’t want people to worry.

A real laugh.

And just like that, he went quiet.

His arms wrapped around you more securely, holding you there—close, warm, real.

Fuck. Geo really cared about you.

✑ 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

Hyugo easily felt other’s emotions that he cared about.

It wasn’t hard to guess where you’d gone—he just knew. Like an instinct. Like something in his gut told him exactly where to find you, even before he started searching.

The rooftop was off-limits. Not just by school rules, but in the way most people never thought to come up here. Maybe they were too afraid of getting caught. Maybe they just weren’t the type to seek out heights when the ground felt unsteady beneath them. But you? You never cared about the rules.

You didn’t care about much of anything these days.

Hyugo exhaled sharply as he pushed the rusted rooftop door open, stepping into the cold wind that swept across the campus skyline. His uniform was slightly rumpled, tie loosened, the usual carefree expression wiped clean from his face as he caught sight of you—sitting near the ledge, drawn into yourself like you were trying to disappear into the horizon.

He hated seeing you like this.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“…You missed class again.”

His voice was quiet. Careful. Not demanding, not scolding—just there.

You didn’t react. You didn’t even turn your head.

Hyugo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The bench near the rooftop’s edge groaned as he sat down beside you, leaving just enough space that you wouldn’t feel cornered—but not enough to let you pretend he wasn’t here.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” he said, leaning back slightly, his arms resting against his knees. “Was hoping I was wrong.”

Still, nothing.

You just kept staring at the skyline, like if you looked hard enough, you might find something out there that made existing feel worth it.

Hyugo wasn’t good with words. Not like this. Not when it mattered. But he couldn’t just sit here and let you drown in whatever thoughts were eating away at you.

His eyes flickered to your sleeves. To the faint, fresh marks barely hidden beneath the fabric.

Something in his chest twisted.

“…I get it, you know.” His voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. “Maybe not exactly. Maybe not in the way you do. But…”

He hesitated, watching your fingers curl slightly in your lap, your shoulders stiff like you were bracing for something.

“…It doesn’t have to be like this.”

A sharp, bitter laugh almost escaped your throat, but you swallowed it down. Doesn’t have to be? It always was. It always would be.

You finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Then tell me what it’s supposed to be like, Hyugo.”

He inhaled slowly, watching you—really watching you. He didn’t have an answer. Not a good one. Not one that would fix anything. But that didn’t stop him from reaching out, his fingers brushing over your wrist, tracing the edge of the pain you carried like it was something fragile, something worth holding onto.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his grip tightening slightly. “But I do know that this isn’t all there is. And I hate that you think it is.”

That did something to you.

Your breath hitched, the weight in your chest pressing harder, heavier. You squeezed your eyes shut, hands clenching into fists.

Hyugo just held onto you. Not forcefully. Not trying to pull you away from the edge—just keeping you here. With him.

“…Talk to me,” he murmured. “Please.”

You wanted to say no. You wanted to stay in the silence, in the cold, in the nothingness.

But when you finally turned your head, when you met his eyes—the way he was looking at you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable—

For the first time in forever… You almost believed him.

Since Hyugo wasn’t the type to cry easily.

Sure, he was emotional—he felt a lot, more than he let on—but he was always the one with a bright smile, a teasing remark, a carefree attitude that made him easy to be around. He kept things light. Kept things fun.

But right now?

Right now, as he looked at you, really looked at you—at the exhaustion weighing down your shoulders, at the way your fingers trembled slightly as if you were holding yourself together with nothing but sheer will—something in him cracked.

His throat tightened.

You noticed the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes glistened under the dim rooftop lights, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he could.

Holy fuck. Did you almost make Hyugo cry?

The thought sent a sharp pang through your chest. It felt wrong. Unfair. He wasn’t supposed to be the one hurting. You were the problem here, not him. He shouldn’t—he couldn’t—

You shifted slightly, about to say something, anything to break the tension—

But then, before you could move, before you could even react, Hyugo suddenly lurched forward.

His arms wrapped around you, his face pressing against your chest, his entire body curling into you like he was holding on for dear life.

The impact startled you, making you stiffen, but he didn’t let go. If anything, he clung to you tighter, like he was afraid you’d slip away the second he loosened his grip.

“…Don’t do this to me,” he mumbled against your shirt, his voice muffled, strained.

You could feel the slight tremor in his hands, the way his breath hitched like he was barely holding himself together. His heartbeat pounded against you, fast, unsteady.

You swallowed hard, guilt settling deep in your stomach.

You didn’t mean to make him feel like this.

You didn’t mean to make anyone feel like this.

Slowly—hesitantly—you lifted a hand, resting it against the back of his head, your fingers threading gently through his messy hair. He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead deeper against your chest like he was trying to disappear into you.

“…Sorry,” you murmured.

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle, though it came out more like a choked sob.

“God, don’t apologize,” he muttered, voice cracking just slightly. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize right now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your cheek against the top of his head. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t even realize how cold you’d been until now.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Hyugo just held onto you, like he was afraid if he let go, you’d fade away completely. And maybe—just maybe—you let yourself sink into him too, just this once.

“…I’ll stay.”

The words barely made it past your lips, fragile and uncertain, like they might dissolve into the night air before they even reached him.

Hyugo sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stared at you, wide-eyed, like he was afraid to blink in case he somehow imagined your words.

Slowly—cautiously—he pulled back just enough to see your face. The rooftop lights cast faint shadows across his features, but even in the dim glow, you could see it. The raw emotion pooled in his eyes, the way his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

His eyes were red-rimmed, glossy with unshed tears.

“…Yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and uncertain, like he needed you to say it again, to confirm that you meant it.

You nodded.

And that was it. That was all it took for whatever was holding him back to finally break.

A sharp, uneven breath escaped him, and his lips pressed into a thin line as his brows furrowed. His whole body trembled, hands curling into fists against your back like he was trying to ground himself.

Then, before you could process it, before you could even brace yourself, he lunged forward.

His arms wrapped around you, tighter this time—desperate. His entire body pressed against yours, warm and trembling, his face burying into the crook of your neck.

“Good,” he breathed against your skin, voice thick, raw. “Good. You better. You fucking better.”

You felt him shudder against you, his breath uneven, like he was barely holding himself together. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes, gripping you like you might slip through his grasp at any second.

“I—” His voice caught, and he shook his head slightly, swallowing hard. His next words were muffled, spoken so quietly they were almost lost against your skin.

“I’d miss you too much, you know?”

Something inside you twisted painfully.

You exhaled, closing your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of him—warm, faintly like the wind, like something alive. His heartbeat pounded against yours, frantic and real, a stark contrast to the numbness that had sat heavy in your chest for so long.

You knew.

You knew.

And maybe, just maybe—Hyugo was enough.

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ THE AFTERMATH

cw. fratboy isagi, he’s a little stalkerish in this but he just misses his girl, part one where they break up here

ever since your breakup with isagi, he’s been so in his feelings.

the only reason you know this is because of the posts your friends have screenshotted from his profile of sad quotes with drake songs playing in the background. it’s honestly a little cringe. so, if you hadn’t felt so bad already you’d probably be crying with laughter. you’ve also noticed user6372928 in your story highlights a lot recently. wow, must be a real fan.

and isagi knows he’s only making this worse for himself, that he’ll never move on this way. but, he can’t help it, hes a certified lover boy!

meanwhile, you’re not really sure how to feel with all this. you know isagi’s been asking around about you, you know he’s stalking your socials constantly. he just won’t leave you alone. and i guess in some fucked up way it was reassuring, knowing how much isagi actually loved and needed you.

but you ended things because you wanted better for him. so, why was he still holding onto this for dear life? you were hoping he’d realise sooner or later, hoping maybe his friends would help him move on.

but really, all his friends hate this more than when he was actually with you. saying, “bro, please just move on from her. you should be glad anyway, wasn’t she like, mad controlling?”

he frowns, “no..? where did you get that idea?”

shrugging, they reply, “cause you never came to the frat parties anymore. plus, she was pretty nasty. always saying shit to you, i couldn’t deal with that.”

but even if you weren’t his girl anymore, isagi wasn’t about to let his friends talk shit about you.

“shut the fuck up, she wasn’t nasty. she was the best girlfriend i had. you think i’m this upset over a girl who treated me like shit?”

then there’s a pause of silence.

“damn alright. sorry, bro.”

he huffs before getting up from the couch he was just sat on, storming up to his room with a frown on his face and slamming the door shut. he’s definitely letting your break up get to him more than he should.

so, he decides to stalk your instagram again!

and the way his stomach dropped when he saw your instagram story; you at a frat party with your girls, looking like you’re having the best time of you life, the frat isagi and his boys hate. what makes it all worse is the fact you look like you’re actually fine without him, that this breakup has no affect on you. and sure, isagi knows you’re the one who broke up with him, but you weren’t even a little upset? a little bit hurt that your two year relationship was over?

the actual truth was that your friends had practically dragged you there, wanting- no, needing you to stop being so fucking miserable about your now ex boyfriend. yeah, yeah, you love him, but you’re really bringing the energy down here!

of course, isagi never had this though cross his mind and instead jumping to the worst case scenario. it’s like everything finally snapped. there’s no way isagi is gonna take this for a second longer. he can’t.

and that’s how he ended up in this situation, his hands shoved in his pockets whilst walking out of his frat like a man on a mission, ignoring his friends questions and calls.

he’s gonna get you back one way or another.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[daxisyzz]

Melting

Pairings: Bucky Barnes × Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is completely smitten with the reader, melting every time she smiles. Determined to make her laugh, he studies stand-up comedy just to impress her. Over coffee, his playful flirting earns a confession—one that turns his world bright.

Word count: 835

Warnings and tags: Confessions, soft Bucky, what more can u ask, fluffy floofy fluff, he melts just like ice cream for her.

Bucky Barnes was, by all accounts, a hardened man. A soldier. A warrior who had fought battles both external and internal. But the moment he saw you, all of that, every ounce of steel in his veins—turned to liquid. You were his church, his place of worship. He found solace in you, in the way you existed so effortlessly in his world, light where there was once only shadow. It wasn’t fair how easily you dismantled his defenses with a single look, a tilt of your head, a laugh that had become the soundtrack of his better days.

And God, that smile. Bucky was doomed from the moment he saw it. It wasn't just beautiful—it was warm, like stepping into the sun after years of cold. It was the kind of smile that made the edges of the world blur, that made the weight on his shoulders feel just a little lighter. It melted him, and he, a man once forged in war, had no complaints about turning to nothing in its presence.

"You're staring," you teased, lifting your mug to your lips.

The coffee shop was quiet, the kind of early morning lull where only a few people sat scattered around, lost in their own worlds. Bucky blinked, completely unrepentant. "You got some soft lips and some pearly whites. Hard not to stare."

Your lips parted in surprise before curving into a grin. You laughed, shaking your head. "Barnes, are you flirting with me?"

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Is it working?"

Your lips curled at the edges, but you didn’t answer right away. "Maybe. Try again, though. I wanna see if you've got more."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. The truth was, he'd been preparing for this. Watching stand-up comedy, trying to learn how to be funny—like, really funny—just to see if he could keep up with you, make you laugh like you made him. He wanted to be the reason for your joy the way you were for his.

And it was working, wasn’t it? You were leaning in, eyes bright with interest, cheeks warm under the café lights.

"I just can’t help but notice everything about you," he murmured.

Your brows furrowed in playful curiosity. "Everything? Like what?"

He smiled, a gentle, sincere expression. "The way your laughter fills the room, how your eyes sparkle when you talk about your dreams… I want to be near you, especially when the night wraps us in its quiet magic."

A soft laugh escaped you, and your gaze softened. "Bucky Barnes, you really know how to make a moment feel special."

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours in a silent promise.

"Only with you," he whispered. In that intimate pause, the world outside faded, leaving just the warmth of your shared connection.

You took another sip of your coffee, eyeing him over the rim of your mug. When you set it down, your voice was softer, more thoughtful. "You know... I kinda like it." Bucky froze.

Something in your tone made his stomach flip. You weren’t just teasing anymore.

"You do?" he asked, suddenly feeling like a nervous kid rather than a century-old soldier.

You nodded, your fingers idly tracing the rim of your cup. "Yeah. I like you too."

His breath hitched. He felt weightless, like the air had been knocked out of him but in the best way possible. The world outside the café faded into nothing.

"You—" He stopped, clearing his throat, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts. "You like me?"

You bit your lip, nodding. "Mhm."

Bucky huffed out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You sure? ‘Cause I’ve been told I can be a handful."

You grinned. "Oh, I know. But I don’t mind."

The words melted something deep inside him. He’d spent so long believing he was too much, too broken, too haunted but here you were, looking at him like he was worth every bit of trouble.

"You, uh... you wanna test that theory?" he asked, voice slightly rough. You raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Bucky swallowed, then reached across the table, fingers ghosting over your hand. When you didn’t pull away, he took it fully, rubbing slow circles over your knuckles. "Lemme take you out. A real date. No tactical planning involved, I promise."

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "No mission briefs? No earpieces?"

"Scout’s honor."

You pretended to consider, tapping your chin. "Hmm... I suppose I did already admit to liking you."

Bucky leaned closer, eyes locked onto yours. "And I’m holding you to that."

Your grin widened, and his heart skipped a beat. "Then it’s a date."

The relief, the sheer joy, that spread through him was overwhelming. He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

You smirked. "Why? ‘Cause I make you melt?"

Bucky groaned, laughing as he squeezed your hand. "You love making me suffer."

"Nah," you said, your smile turning softer. "I just love you."

And just like that, he was gone.

[deadtiredtifosa]

WHIPPED

Aaron can't help but admire your new style.

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader tags: bimbofication, reader has longer hair, bau!reader, fem!reader wc: 0.8k

Ever since you set foot in his apartment, Aaron’s attention was focused on you, on the way you sat pretty on his couch, stretching your legs just to admire your new shoes. And boy, weren’t they adorable? No wonder you couldn’t take your eyes off them.

But maybe it was you, not the shoes. You’ve been glowing since you changed your style, which once again makes him wonder what fueled the idea. He hasn’t known you had such a taste, even though you’ve been with the BAU for a year and a half by now, from which you’ve been secretly dating for five months now. 

Then it hit him–Garcia. You spent a week living in her apartment after a water pipe issue at your place, because you refused to stay with him until the problem was fixed. So, could it be that their favorite tech analyst plagued your mind with that style? She was more… flamboyant, of course, but who knows, maybe the hyper feminine style’s idea came from her. 

God knows he tries to shift his focus back on dinner, but he can’t help himself, he has to look over at you more often than not. And the feeling’s mutual, because he can feel your eyes on him, and when he looks at you, you simply flash a cute smile at him.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll either burn the food, or just leave it here to devour you instead,” he warns with a short laugh.

You innocently bat your eyelashes at him, then you stand up, smooth your blouse, and take a few steps closer with your hands behind your back. “Oh, is that so? And what exactly do you wish to do if you happen to have me however you want?” you ask, a barely visible smile playing on your pink lips. 

That’s his girl, the one who isn’t afraid to challenge or mock him. Maybe you haven’t changed that much after all, which is good considering how good you are at your job. He needs the old, smart and focused you in the field, but in all honesty, he has absolutely no complaint when it comes to your new style.

It’s shallow to only think about your looks, he knows, but how could he resist the urge to admire the sight of you? You’re a vision in your baby blue blouse with the white pants, truly. 

Honestly, he has no idea why this is happening to him. He’s never really been the kind of man to like this level of femininity, but seeing you like this surely changed something in him. All he can think about is going somewhere together to show you off, to let people know that he managed to capture the heart of this beautiful woman. 

“Like what you see?” you begin as you walk up to him and reach out to play with the hem of his shirt, a little too close to where he wants you to touch him. “Come on, you haven’t answered my original question. What do you want to do with me?” 

To torment him even more, you lean a little closer, and Aaron closes his eyes to take a deep breath and enjoy the perfume you’re wearing. “I want to make you beg me to stop,” he tells you before kissing the shell of your ear.

But you just let out an adorable giggle and lean back to look him in the eye. “Sentences I can hear from both my boyfriend and a serial killer,” you note.

He reaches out to take your hands, then steps back to take a better look at you. “This change in your style–it’s Garcia’s fault, isn’t it?” 

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” The way you tilt your head so innocently makes him bite the inside of his cheek to restrain himself. “Does this mean you don’t like it?”

“Baby, I love it. I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been working together for over a year and I’ve never seen you dress like this,” he points out.

You let out a sigh and pull your hands away for a moment to run a manicured nail down his chest. “This is how I dressed before the FBI came into the picture. Penelope showed me some photos she found online, because she wanted to know why I changed to some boring style, and she told me I should give it a shot, just to see how I feel dressing like that again,” you explain as you lean forward to place soft kisses on his neck. 

Without thinking much about it, Aaron puts his hands on your hips, then goes, “Jump.” You don’t question him, you just do exactly as he says. “Good girl. Now I’ll show you how much I love it,” he tells you with a laugh before giving you a quick kiss.

[vxlvted]

Hi. Sorry, i wasn't sure what your specifics were for requests, so feel free to say no.

I had an idea of skz members, either written as headcanons or as lee know or chan maybe, where they have a reader with they/Them pronouns but female anatomy.. get off on their thigh or something? Sorry, I'm autistic and have really bad anxiety, so I might be phrasing things completely wrong. Thank you, and I hope you have a great day! :)

riding the edge

synopsis: after a long day, you seek comfort on Lee Know’s lap

tags: gn!reader but described with afab anatomy, smut, thigh riding, use of minho instead of lee know (as most of my fics probably are. is that a warning? idk), barely proofread

a/n: sorry it took so long to get this out—

It starts innocently. You’re curled up on Minho’s lap, legs draped over his as he lounges on the couch. His arm is wrapped around your waist, thumb slipping underneath their shirt and rubbing your hips.

It had been a long day, one of those days. Your boss had been a power trip all morning, dumping tons of last minute assignments onto your desk with a forced smile, saying, “it shouldn’t take too long.” But it take long, because half of the team members you needed to help with the paperwork were all unavailable.

Then there was the coworker who was constantly hovering over you while you worked. offering nonstop advice that sounded a lot like passive aggressive criticism. By the time you got home, your head was pounding and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about today.

But the moment you walked into the door, he murmured, “Come here,” and you felt too drained to protest. So now, here you were. Sat into his lap, your head tucked beneath his chin.

It was your usual wind down routine when things got too hectic at work. Minho wasn’t big on using words to comfort but he knew exactly how to ease the tension in your body.

But something feels different. Maybe it’s the subtle flex of his thigh beneath you. Or the way his fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt. You try to shift, adjusting so you can find a comfortable spot, but the friction when you drag your core over his thigh sends a sharp jolt up your spine and you freeze.

“Mm?” Minho tilts his head to make eye contacts “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing..” you murmur, you feel his hand slightly squeeze your waist.

You try to shift again, less for comfort and more because the feeling is starting to spread further through your body. The firm muscle of his thigh presses exactly where you need it and despite your best efforts, a small whine escapes you throat.

“Oh..” His smile deepens me he looks at you with amusement as he realizes.

You open your mouth to protest but his hand presses harder on your hip, encouraging you to move once more. You breath stutter as your hips move with his hand, grinding down onto his thigh.

“There you go,” He hums, he loosens his grip on your hips and gaze darkens when you slow down. “Don’t stop now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment but move your hips once again. The rough denim of his jeans presses against you clothed clit just right, the feeling of his hands lingering on your side only makes the sensation sharper, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan.

“Shh,” Minho coos, fingers sliding beneath your shirt to gently rub your burning skin. You let out a shaky breath, lifting your hands to grip his shoulders. He flexes his thigh, the muscles tense beneath you and you choke on a moan.

“You like that?” he whispers, lips brushing against your ear. “Getting off on my thigh like this?”

Your face burns and you nod, unable to form coherent words. His hands slides down to the curve of your hip, guiding you into a more controlled rhythm. “So messy..” He murmurs. His lips drag over your jaw, pressing hot open mouthed kisses to your skin. “Making a mess on me, baby.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, his thigh is firm beneath you and his hand are unrelenting as they guide you back and forth against him.

“You gonna cum like this?” His voice sounds so calm compared to the way he’s roughly grinding your hips down against his thigh. You whimper and your fingers dig into his shoulders through his shirt. You can feel yourself right on the edge, then, one of his hands leave your hips. Sliding down in between your thighs, his presses to fingers firmly against your clit.

“C’mon…” he whispers “let go for me,”

You body trembles and pleasure crashing through you like a wave. your thighs trembling around him and he holds you through it as you desperately grind to chase the last few sparks of your orgasm while Minho slowly rubs his fingers back and forth against your clit.

When you finally slump against him, he bring his hand up to rub your back. “Feel better?”

You nod weakly, still catching your breath. But then he shifts beneath you and you feel his hard length press against your thigh. You lift your head from his shoulder and look at him with wide eyes.

“What? Did you expect me not to get hard form that?” He chuckles. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of both your pants and underwear. He runs his two fingers through your wetness and you whimper.

“Were not done yet,” He murmurs, his voice dangerously soft.

Taglist:

If you’d like to be put on (or taken off) the taglist, feel free to let me know

@yaorzu-blog | @pixie-felix | @compersian | @tshyn | @kittenchaos2024

dividers from @/saradika-graphics

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 10 - who is your future lover ? a full portrait

masterlist / ko-fi

my last reading : what's next in love ?

This is a general reading. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

ANNOUNCEMENT : Like I already mentionned in previous posts, I will soon open my tarot services (Ko-fi shop). Over the course of the beginning of next week, more information will be posted. The week after (7/04 to 13/04), I will publish the rules and all the technicalities that concern the tarot services. So if you're interested in having a personal reading with me, stay tuned for new info in the coming days !

Pile 1

Who are they ?

Core personality : Fixed - Stability, Persistence, Loyalty and Dependability

The core personality of your future lover is that they are a stable, loyal and dependable person. They probably have prominent fixed energies in their birth chart (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius). Mainly fire and earth fixed energies. This person is really masculine, no matter what their gender is.

They are really headstrong, and do not like when things don’t go their way. They usually are the leader of the group. They are really good at managing money, and any material things in general. They can enjoy luxurious things, but aren’t overconsumers. 

They are more traditional in their values, some might be religious. 

They are the type to want to get married one day, HOWEVER I feel like now , and that is only for half of the people who picked this pile, they might not be exactly ready for a long term relationship. They still have issues to work on. For the other half of the people here, they are ready and are actively seeking a long term relationship. The person in this second group is really stable at the time, has a pretty good salary (some could even be quite rich) and they are looking to settle down. For the other group, the reason why they are not ready to settle yet is because your person is probably younger and does not have a stable situation at the moment. 

A random fact that I am picking up on is that they like wearing costumes, and smell GOOD. You probably recognize them the moment they enter a room because of the smell that comes in. I don't know how to explain, they just have a strong signature scent. 

Some of them could LOVE working, maybe some are even workaholics. I am just getting that they hate staying inside doing nothing. They are just really active people, the type to wake up at 5am or 6am on a Sunday morning to run or go hiking lol If you aren’t like this, my fellow Pile 1, they will help you go out of your comfort zone for sure.

Light attribute(s) : The Emperor

It follows what I said above, but this person is really masculine and a true go-getter. Really confident in themselves and their own abilities. They start a lot of projects and make sure they finish them in time. Probably quite extraverted, like getting attention (but only positive attention they don’t like embarrassing themselves in public lol I mean pretty understandable).

Again, they are a leader, they like to initiate things, they could plan your dates. 

Their primary love language could be acts of service. Despite being a bit individualistic, they are surprisingly super service oriented. Could have 6th house placements. 

They take care of their bodies, and I am getting that they are really good cooks. 

Honestly pile 1, you will end up being pampered by this person. I am seeing a man carrying a girl on his shoulder because the girl feet hurts after wearing heels for too long lmaoo I am just seeing those (a bit cringy to me sorry) videos, especially on Douyin (help-) of those dark romance couples (without the TOXICITY OK) where the girl gets princess treatment lol If you like that, then it’s a dream come true for you. 

(this list was more a description of positive facts about them then their light attributes but anyways lol)

Shadow attribute(s) : 4 of wands (and ace of wands)

They have a tendency to be really controlling. This person has a hard time handling their anger, or more so frustration when things don’t go as planned in their lives. This usually results in them panicking and they end up kind of lashing out on the people around them. Now, to reassure you, this person is not abusive or manipulative at all, they are a really honest and straight person. When I say they “have a hard time handling their anger” it is usually momentary and they genuinely excuse themselves afterwards. They are quite self-aware of their shadow traits it seems, because I kept on seeing them being ashamed of their anger issues. I feel like they are working on these issues consistently, and they are always walking towards healing these issues because I am really picking up that this person made tremendous efforts these past few years.

Another downside is that they can be too impulsive at times. They do have some patience though, but, sometimes, they get a lot of ideas and want to rush things instead of letting divine timing play out. 

They also are a little bit too competitive and can take stupid games a bit too seriously lmaoo They are the type to flip the monopoly game board and accuse people of cheating, the kind to reread the rules and fact check them online to see if the penalty they got is fair or not. If you are like that too, this will be a funny pair haha If you aren’t, this might become really tiring at some point.

They also might be a little too cocky or ego driven at times.

MBTI : ESFJ 

Life path : Life path 1 , The Warrior

Life motto : "Life is simple, get into the moment."

What do they look like ? Their vibe ? essence ? 

Kibbe body type : Natural / Yang-Balanced 

Here’s a description of this body type (i found this on reddit, but it does the work so don’t judge me) 

“NATURAL: Usually of sturdy or athletic build. Face may be craggy with irregular features, or perhaps has a square jaw and wide-set eyes or simply a rugged and outdoorsy look. Might have freckles, and hair is rarely glossy.”

Face type essence

Romantic : keywords of this face type essence => indulgence, alluring, sensual, curvier, glamour, luxury, soft, and lush lips.

House Nine (+ Saturn) - Spiritual Growth 

So, I am getting that your person, if they’re a man, most likely looks like those stereotypical handsome men in perfume ads.* I heard “handsome squidward” lmaooo. Go watch Addison Rae’s Diet Pepsi music video. I am getting the guy in the video probably looks like your future lover. Congrats, pile 1, you’re about to bag a hot one lol

They just generally look really sensual. They moisturize their skin thoroughly , both face and body, so they are glistening 24/7. I am getting that they look wet ?? They also probably wear gel on their hair, maybe enjoy having this ‘wet hair type of look”. Most likely has a goatee or a goatee with a mustache. 

For women, I am not really picking up on much. The people that chose this pile are most likely going to date a man. 

But, if I can say something is that, no matter their gender, this person could look racially ambiguous. 

They also have a really daddy-like appearance (i am saying that because they have strong Sun, Jupiter and Saturn energies. really stereotypically masculine.). They also look reliable, intimidating and intense. This person might have Saturn in the first house or are cancer or capricorn rising. Even Leo risings or sagittarius risings for some. 

*note : perfume or cologne or just scent is a big thing in this pile. This person or you or both of you could have a particular relationships with perfumes, and scent in general. You or them might work in a perfume shop, or something related to that field. This person might collect a lot of perfume and have a signature scent. Beware because their signature perfume IS NOT a popular one, really obscure high class brand (or they custom made it for some even). You might meet this person when you buy a new perfume, or when you decide to have your own signature scent. 

Pile 2

Who are they ?

Core personality : Uranus - Radically change

Before pulling any cards, I already felt a strong rebellious energy from this person. This is most likely someone who lives on the edge with a unique job. A DJ, an OF girlie, or just a sex worker in general. Some of them could work in sex shops ? I am getting someone that actually MAKES the models for new dildos or sex toys. Like a sex toy artist ? creator ? (does that even exist ?). They could also be a psychic, a medium, or a tarot reader that works exclusively with sexual energy ? Some of them could also be strippers or exotic dancers. I am getting the movie Anora might be relevant for some here. This is going to be hyper specific but they could be a photographer that takes pictures of dead animals or corpses ? Generally speaking, this person works in a really taboo and unexpected industry. They probably have multiple streams of income. This person, despite being so freedom seeking, and loving novelty and thrill chasing, is really business minded and actually surprisingly stable (financially). They probably are really comfortable materially speaking. I am sensing that a lot of people judge them, but at the same time envy them because they are courageous enough to be unapologetically themselves and go beyond what is expected to be free financially and in general.

This person probably has capricorn, aquarius and sagittarius placements. Really sarcastic, a bit unpredictable, funny but can have the "foot in the mouth" syndrome. Some might love to swear like a sailor. Probably has a dry sense of humour. Could have grown up in poverty. One of their parents could have died when they were young. Some were adopted. Whatever the case may be, this person had a really tough childhood and upbringing that made them passionate about making their own money and creating their own life and reality. People that harshly judge them don’t understand the pain they had to go through to be where they are at right now. This person is a warrior of life honestly.

Light attribute(s) : Eight of Wands - Vehuel “The Great and Exalted God”

This person is extremely passionate and driven. They have no problems planning and jumping in action right away. They don’t overthink and waste time ruminating. They are a go getter and life made them learn the harsh way that if you wait too long, the opportunities will unfortunately pass you by just like the wind. You have to grab them when you can.

I don’t know how this is a light attribute but they are hot, and they know how to present themselves in a hot way ? They know how to preserve that “hotness” and use it at their advantage. They have an incredible sense of style, and know what fits them or not. Even if most of them have (most likely) an alternative lifestyle and style fashion wise, they know how to make it look good and make other people validate their style. Like they understand the rules of society and they play with it. Despite not fitting in, they know how to make themselves fit in enough to play around with capitalism. This is super interesting to be honest. This person is most likely a Capricorn Sun. Really good at knowing the social expectations and understanding “human nature” and the game of money, and how to play with it. I am hearing “making capitalism my bitch” lol and the quote in the background of Lisa’s Money music video “ Money is an incredible servant but a terrible master” or something like that. (They are a really materialistic person it seems)

Shadow attribute(s) : 4 of Pentacles 

Well…. I knew this energy would come up for their shadow side…Yes, they know how to make “capitalism their bitch”, but they are nonetheless really greedy and stingy with their money. They are an overtly materialistic individual, who is obsessed with money and finances. Money is ALWAYS on their mind. So much so that, as you saw in the “Core personality” section of this reading, their entire self surrounds around making money, ways to make money, how to make money and how to make even more money,.. 

This person is honestly The Devil archetype… Could have a machiavellistic way of thinking. They are the type to think that the means justify the ends. This could in turn make them quite sadistic and selfish. They could also suffer from addictions they don’t address : could be smoking cigarettes, weed, alcohol, sex or drugs. I am getting most of them, they are a little bit addicted to all of the things I listed above. 

Now. I know a lot of you are probably freaking out while reading this (which is totally understandable) but I feel most of you guys who picked this pile are like this too OR are in their way of becoming like this, having this lifestyle (making your own money in unusual ways, partying, hanging out with alt people, people who live unique lifestyles,;..).If you don’t resonate with that, this may not be your pile. 

MBTI : ESFP

Life path : Life path 11 - The Illuminator/Psychic (+ Life path 8 - The Influencer)

Life motto : "You decide who you are" and "You grow through what you go through."

What do they look like ? Their vibe ? essence ? 

Kibbe body type  : Gamine 

If woman : “The Gamine body type is defined by an even combination of yin and yang opposites and is the overall combination of a sharply delicate physicality along with a fresh and spicy essence.

Body type is straight. Lithe and lean, tends toward sinewy musculature. Tends toward flatness in bust and hips (unless overweight). May be very leggy. Possibly slightly short-waisted.”

If man : Small in stature, boyish face and body and perpetually young-looking. 

Face type essence : Classic => keywords of this face type essence : elegant, simple looking, balance, symmetry, timeless, basic, default settings face, neutral, conservative (what lol), controlled looking, formal

House Two - Physical security, Possessions, Material Values

This person looks poor and rich at the same time. they wear grunge clothes, from charity shops, clothes with stitches and holes in them, tear up clothes,.. It is both intentional (it is their style) but also because they don’t give a shit if they look “homeless”. They like that look. 

Despite making pretty decent amounts of money, and trying their best to appear good in society so that they can benefit from the system, they don’t spend much on clothes. I think this careless attitude towards the way they dress is what makes them stand out, and oddly enough, in a good way. It’s like their style is messy but they look effortlessly good. 

Not much stands out when it comes to their face. They look pretty normal. I feel like it is their stature, their body, their clothing style and the way they carry themselves that stands out. 

Some of them might not be particularly pretty or handsome, but they are still quite attractive, just for other reasons than their physical beauty. 

They could have prominent eye bags, some don’t care about having greasy hair and messy buns, tangled hair. They are not gross by any means, like, they take showers. They might just not be the cleanest and most hygienic person out there. I am sensing that, especially if they are a man, they walk like a GTA character. They have the GTA walk basically. For women, they have the BBL walk (lol) or they also walk like characters in GTA, specifically GTA strippers. 

Pile 3

Who are they ?

Core personality : 

Pile 3… How do I say this.. It was almost impossible to get one card for their core personality. Every card that fell felt really off to me, like it didn’t make sense. Especially since all of them were extremely contradictory : Pluto and House ten wanted to fall first, then the Leo card was at the top of the deck. I reshuffled and the Mutable card fell??? Which, if you don’t know, is a completely opposite energy from the previous cards (Pluto and Leo being fixed energies, and House Ten cardinal and earthy, so really assertive and kind of fixed in a way). Then I reshuffled because I was REALLY confused just to have the Fire card (the fire signs card) ??!! This whole messy process of trying to get their core personality is telling that this person has MANY layers, and that one card just would not be enough to describe them. At first, they might appear confident, like a go-getter (the Fire card), but then, you see this flexible, more, light-hearted and adaptable energy coming from them once you get to know them more (the Mutable signs card). But then, you discover this deeply driven and influential, career oriented, boss bitch side of them when you dig even deeper. For a majority of you though, this process would most likely be the other way around  : first, you see how intense, dark and career oriented they are. They appear almost famous, with a resting b*tch face, and a no bs attitude. Really intimidating at first. But then, you’re getting surprised once you talk to them by discovering how super chill and friendly they actually are. But then, you get surprised again once you discover that this person can actually be the life of the party, really lighthearted and down to have a blast at any moment. They are not just calculating, overtly serious and too intense. They also know how to have fun, and are really good at it. I am seriously getting that your future lover is/or might be really good at twerking. lol No matter their gender, they are a pro at throwing it back. They really are a fun and complex individual.

Light attribute(s) : Six of Pentacles and Nine of Cups (again, one card wasn’t enough for them.. Pile 3, you’re person is giving me a headache lmaooo)

This person is extremely generous and charitable. They know how to share their blessings with others, especially the ones in need. Your future lover probably has volunteered at least once in their lives. They probably are really active in their local community to help the ones in need, or just to volunteer because they want to. 

This person is grateful for their life and their opportunities. They know how to accept life’s blessings with open warms and be grateful for them. They are generally speaking a more positive and optimistic person and they know things will get better eventually.

Shadow attribute(s) : 7 of Swords

The card literally flew away and I didn’t even shuffle… Be warned pile 3.. (don’t freak out I am just playing)

So, this person might have a tendency to not always tell the truth to keep the harmony. They might be a bit too nice. They will withhold certain information, lie and deceit just to not make someone mad. The problem in this is that at the end, everyone gets mad because they all got lied to someway somehow. This reminds me of the first season of Arcane and how Jayce was trying to appeal to the Juries (or whatever they are called) and Mel but at the same time there was his OG friend, Viktor, that he let down. Because Jayce is a people pleaser, and was trying to do what was right, he got lost in other people’s expectations and let down his friends to then let down the people he was trying to appeal to once he realized the situation he put himself into. (It’s been a while since I watched the first season of Arcane so maybe it is not 100% what happened but you get the core message)

MBTI : ESTJ, ESFJ, ISTP

Life path : Life path 9 - The Sage (+ Life path 33 - The Spiritual Teacher)

Life motto : "Go where you are wanted" (are they really acting on their life motto… that is the question)

What do they look like ? Their vibe ? essence ? 

Kibbe body type  : Soft Gamine, Theatrical Romantic

“The Soft Gamine silhouette can be described as staccato, animated, and with clean curves." Soft Gamines are typically petite and compact, with a slightly boyish figure.

Face type essence : Ethereal => keywords about this face type essence : maturity, wisdom, purity, old soul, outwordly, magical, ancient, unusual looking

Mutable - Surrender, fluidity and welcoming change

Their looks could vary a lot for each of you I am getting. They could look racially ambiguous, look friendly, almost angel-like for some.

I am honestly not picking up on much for their appearance because I feel like their appearance doesn’t (or shouldn’t ?) matter. It is like you will like the way they look regardless, probably also because this might not be your usual physical type. 

I am also getting that this person will look like the way you want them to look like ? I know this sounds insane but I kept on getting images of the Sims or games where you can manually create and customize your characters. It is like you customized them by yourself in the subconscious realm. Not what you dreamt of consciously, which are physical ideals that are usually driven mostly by the ego. No, this person will actually look like what your higher self has been cooking up and manifesting (without your consent lol) behind your back. So, even if they’re not your physical type, you will be subconsciously attracted to them because it is your higher self’s type.

I even think that some of you will feel super physically and/or sexually attracted to this person initially, which might shock you because it feels like it is coming out of nowhere lol

Okay Pile 3, your pile was a little wild but really fun to do ! Sorry if it is slightly shorter than the other piles. I just feel like your guardian angels and your higher self are purposefully gatekeeping some info away from me intentionally. 

Pile 4

Who are they ?

Core personality : Chiron - Hurt and Heal (+ Capricorn)

I am getting that this person was deeply wounded in the past, but has healed tremendously ever since. This person was born with a heavy karmic burden. They always felt like their presence was too “loud”, that they took too much space, like they were the elephant in the room. I am picking up this person could have a capricorn rising with saturn and chiron in the first house. Their entire being and identity is filtered through the painful and restrictive energy of Chiron and Saturn. The SOUR album of Olivia Rodrigo could be relevant for some of them or you/ or just both of you. I am saying that because, to do your pile, I stopped watching a SOUR album reaction on youtube lol I actually think Olivia Rodrigo is herself a Capricron rising with Chiron in the first house (poor her). Anyways. This person has a unique connection to music. They probably have a huge vinyl collection, and are extremely cultured in music history. They love listening to all sorts of music genres and are really open minded. They might be a bit awkward or shy at first, but you will instantly be impressed by their music knowledge. They actually might know how to play a few instruments. I am getting the bass, but also the drums. Also with the picture of your pile, they could be a Dj, or are friends with people who work in the music industry/field. They might be themselves in the music industry. I am getting if they’re a man, they probably have a grungy style of clothing, they wear shirts of metal bands, and have longer hair. If you see them play, they’ll be quite lowkey, just the bass player at the back. They love music, and even if they are an artist, they are not looking for fame at all. They enjoy being mostly unknown, or just known in their small local community. Random but you might meet them and they’re playing the drums or bass in a cover of jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo.

I am getting a lot of “sad girl” music (not the best term, just angsty and sad music made by women). From the start by Laufey is coming up. This person might have always been in one sided love situations. Poor them, they seem so sweet ;/ Don’t ever tell me they aren’t shitty placements to have when there is this person as an example.. 

I think this person has always stayed resilient despite the pain that Saturn and Chiron is causing them. Like the heartbreaks never made them bitter. This person is really emotionally strong, honestly. They know how to not take things too seriously. They are really good at handling rejection.

Light attribute(s) : Four of Cups

This person is really patient. They know how to weigh the pros and the cons and not take everything at face value. 

They are really good at reading between the lines, and know how to take a step back when needed. 

They aren’t desperate, and they understand the concept of boundaries really well. 

They are also really realistic and always make sure not to jump to conclusions. 

If you are a really stressed individual, they are the best fit for you. They are extremely empathetic and patient, and they know that it is completely useless to say “calm down” to someone who is in the midst of having a panic attack lol 

They are really educated in mental health too. I am getting this is most likely a bisexual man, some are cis men, some are trans men, I just think this person is actively part of the LGBTQ+ community. Really left wing. Some might even be marxist, far left. Either way, they are really politicized and are concerned for society. I don’t know i felt drawn to put this in the light attributes lmaoo it is more so a fact about them, but if you share the same political views, it actually makes sense.

Shadow attribute(s) : 7 of Wands

They might have a hard time handling conflict and might have a tendency sometimes to run away from issues, or put them under the rug until the problems all come together flooding at them and they don’t know what to do. 

They might sometimes easily get overwhelmed and need a lot of alone time because of that. 

They are not the best at voicing their problems. They are not really verbal generally speaking, which could be frustrating for people who are direct and literal. 

MBTI : INFJ ( I am getting strong Kurt Cobain vibes from your person. Such a sensitive soul <3)

Life path : Life Path 1 - The Warrior (+ Life path 6 - The Nurturer)

Life motto : "it comes and goes.." / "I am divinely protected at all times <3"

What do they look like ? Their vibe ? essence ? 

Kibbe body type : Flamboyant natural

“These men are masculine, but share the Dramatic height and longer bones. They have broad, blunt shoulders and broader chests than the Dramatics. / They have broadness in some parts of their bodies, and wider bones (wider hands and feet, sharp jaw-lines, larger noses). When they pack on muscle, their body becomes a T-shape”

Face type essence : Romantic => keywords of this face type essence => indulgence, alluring, sensual, curvier, glamour, luxury, soft, and lush lips.

Saturn - Feel restricted, Experience struggle, Learn Hard Work and Patience

This person’s bone structure really sticks out. If they’re a man (which is most likely for most of you here), they have a larger waist, like their waist isn’t defined at all. They are most likely either average-short height or quite tall. Not skinny, not fat or chubby. They are slim-thick I am getting ??! I don’t know if you can say that for a man though ?(I don’t think so but bear with me lmaoo). Like they are not slim and have abs, but they don’t have a beer belly either. They are "normal" I guess.

Their limbs could be quite long too. Like their arms are super long, so  it almost looks like their hands are touching their knees ? It is really hard to explain.

Some of them could have a hunchback or a posture problem. Like they have scoliosis and sit in a really particular way. 

Some of them could have a roman nose, their nose might be bigger in general. I am seeing that one jewish stand-up comedian, he always comes up in my Youtube reels lol I think he has an italian name (ok I found him his name is Gianmarco Soresi , he is really funny lol. He is known for his elbows I think, like there is a running inside joke about his elbows. I know this is weird but look him up, he has really long limbs. They might have a similar vibe to him, the way they carry himself ,their humor, the way they interact with other people, etc…

Pile 5

Who are they ?

Core personality : 

Currently shuffling to get one oracle card for their core personality, and, just like Pile 3, it is REALLY confusing. Two cards fell first, then 1 card that had nothing to do with the two first ones fell and then yet another one that had even LESS correlation to what I previously shuffled fell.

What I am getting from this confusing shuffling is that this person is a shapeshifter, a chameleon, a social butterfly (but not a frivolous one). They kind of remind me of Jayce from Arcane in a way (go read Pile 3 if you want, because I just mentioned Jayce too in Pile 3’s reading, there are a lot of mirroring between the two piles). What I am getting though is that they are really calculated and intentional in the way they display this “social butterfly” energy. They are not just social to be social, or in a “ I am so happy to be there yolo slayy”. They keep track of every single one of their connections, how it is going, etc… Really good communicator. Extraverted and a bit controlling (they just have a tight schedule and are well organised so it’s not excessive.). I also heard “Social engineer”. This person is really good at socializing, understanding people’s motives and using it to their and the community’s advantage. They know how to act and with who, what to say and how to say it according to each person they meet. Now, I do not think they are manipulative in a bad way. They are honest, generally, but could lie by omission when needed. This person could also smell good lol (random I know). I am getting most of the people who chose this pile’s future lover will be a man, but a man with heavy Libra/ feminine energies. I am seeing Siwon from the K-pop group Super Junior. So, this person could be a bit conservative or more traditional in their values (because Siwon, if I am not mistaken, is a huge christian for better and (mostly) for worse…) Your person could be homophobic or hold certain views that were taught to them from a really young age; You know those “christian values”. Let me share with you something Choi Siwon said about homosexuality in an interview back in 2007  : “While I respect all genders, I do not wish to acknowledge homosexuals as I have been taught that God created Man and Woman with specific characteristics and duties”. I am getting a minority of you could think the same, but a majority actually are dying inside reading this (honestly, me too). This relationship could be a karmic one (karmic does not mean bad by the way) that teaches them to be more flexible with their values, and accept more progress and diversity? This person could’ve been groomed to think that way since they were a child. I think deep down they are a really open minded soul. This person could have a north node in gemini or the 3rd house : they could be really preachy and stuck in their own belief system. Really resistant to change and progress. (they don’t have to be conservative/christian it could also be any belief they are clinging onto). Your presence in their life could shift their view and push them out of this stubborn preachy “I am right you are wrong, my truth is THE truth” kind of mindset. To reassure you : NO YOU WILL NOT BE A BOB/BARBARA THE BUILDER. Most of you know your worth, and if this person doesn’t want to change, you know damn well it’s their problem and not yours. You will not try to “fix” them by any means. (needed to make this precision because some people could think I am describing a savior/martyr dynamic when really it is a teacher/student dynamic (you being the teacher, of course). There won’t be any kind of power imbalances so don’t worry (and you can also always choose to not enter in this relationship when the opportunity presents itself to you)

Light attribute(s) : Temperance

This person is really patient and diligent. 

This person is also really spiritual and aware of concepts such as “divine timing”; They know that rejection is divine protection and are able to not take things at heart. 

They know how to see the bigger picture. 

They are extremely good teachers/mentors/gurus , and are good at sharing spiritual knowledge. They are really wise.

Shadow attribute(s) : 5 of Swords

They could be a bit sneaky. Like they do things behind people’s back, and hide some stuff to get what they want. It is just the shadow side of their social engineer personality. 

They could sacrifice too much, sometimes go to excess to get recognition and success. 

They LOVE positive attention and compliments, so, they could overdo it or act as if they have more than they actually do just to impress people.

They have a bit of ego paired with some self esteem issues that makes them seek out external validation a bit too much. They could also let other people decide for themselves in the way that they want to make sure everything they do or/and say is socially accepted/acceptable. 

They just want to fit in and they hate being the weirdo/ the scapegoat. It might actually be one of their worst fears : to be left out of the group, to not be in the “in” crowd, the popular crowd. This is a shadow because they have a hard time expressing their own desires and to do whatever they want/be authentically themselves. 

MBTI : ENFJ

Life path : Life Path 6

Life motto : "Control how you respond to things sent to destroy your peace."

What do they look like ? Their vibe ? essence ? 

Kibbe body type : Natural 

(this pile feels like a mix of Pile 1 and Pile 3. Go read them if you hesitated with those piles/or just to see additional messages)

Natural / Yang-Balanced 

Here’s a description of this body type (i found this on reddit, but it does the work so don’t judge me) 

“NATURAL: Usually of sturdy or athletic build. Face may be craggy with irregular features, or perhaps has a square jaw and wide-set eyes or simply a rugged and outdoorsy look. Might have freckles, and hair is rarely glossy.”

Face type essence : Ingenue

Keywords associated with this face type essence :  Cute, Idealism, Youthful, Femininity, Small, Sweet, Pretty, Gentle, Innocence, delicate

Sagittarius - Optimism, Exploration and Freedom

They probably are really “thick”. They probably are more on the muscular side, some could be muscular and  chubby at the same time. They just look taller or bigger than average, they have a “big” energy when they enter any room. They just naturally take more space. Really “larger than life” appearance/ vibe. Their thighs and legs are the most prominent part of their bodies. They are taller than average. 

Pile 6

Sorry in advance Pile 6, your reading is a bit cryptical at times. The energy of your future lover is really hard to grasp onto but I think that is on purpose. You will know more about them just as you get to know them.

Who are they ?

Core personality : Pluto - Transform / Libra - Consideration, Fairness and Harmony

This person has a really transformative and intense personality, but at the same time they are really balanced and harmonious ? They are healthily obsessive, they seek harmony in the secrets, the taboo. Everything that is dark and hidden, they express it artistically, they show the darkness diplomatically. 

I don’t really know though, I think their energy is really hard to get. Really enigmatic individual. They might wake up one day, and be a person to then wake up the day after and be another person. It is like they consistently “die”. They never cling to a specific identity or personality. They are everlastingly changing. But, them being in a constant state of change doesn’t make them chaotic either. They shed their old skin/ die really harmoniously. Their constant changes aren’t messy and abrupt. They tend to be really quiet and really observant. Like a feline waiting to pounce on their prey at any moment. This person could be really attractive like magnetic, almost high fashion model attractiveness. When they walk by, everyone turns their heads to admire their lethal confidence, theri sharp aura, and their deadly stare. 

This person is probably an artist too : a painter, a poet and a writer. They probably have many artistic talents that they indulge in a lot. I am picking up that this person is probably an 8th houser (have 3 or more planets in the 8th house) with a stellium of planets in Libra (sign of beauty, art and harmony). They know how to create divinely and they have an amazing artistic flair. They are amazing with their hands. Their hands could actually be their most attractive feature.

Light attribute(s) : The Devil

Well… this is an interesting card that fell for their LIGHT attributes lol This person is so mysterious to read omg

So, this person is really comfortable in their shadow. Even though they probably don't know what a “shadow” side is, they’ve explored it and they went into the depths of it already. 

They aren’t scared to face their demons. They are extremely honest and real, and are highly aware of their toxic traits and shadow side and don’t bother hiding them away. 

I just think that their honesty and transparency is the thing that sticks out the most. Their lightest attributes is found in their own exploration of their shadow side

Shadow attribute(s) : Queen of Pentacles

okay.. I heard something really weird but this person could be a sex addict ?? I just think it only applies to a minority of you though. But I don't think it means they are literally addicted to the act, they just are obsessed with the concept of "sex" and sexuality in general. This obsession might make them a hard person to have a "mundane" conversation with.

I think they could just be overtly disconnected to their bodies. They could try to mesh too much with their spiritual side that they forget their bodies. 

They could also be too fixated on the darker sides of life, on the deep and hidden that they forget to do mundane things. Like they cannot uphold a casual conversation, they can only interact when the subject is death or sex. There is just an imbalance in their energy. They pour too much energy in things that are transcendental so they forget the materialistic side of life.

In summery, they are just too obsessed with taboo topics (death, sex,...)

MBTI : ESFP

Life path : Life path 6 - The Nurturer

Life motto : "it comes and goes." / "when you get tired, learn to rest, not quit.”

What do they look like ? Their vibe ? essence ? 

Kibbe body type : Flamboyant natural or Soft Dramatic, Romantic and Classic ALL at the same time (mainly the first two though) (this person’s face card is LETHAL)

Face type essence : Gamine, Dramatic and Romantic (they are a mix of all of those)

Gamine => Quirky, Playful, boyish, dramatic, childlike, rebellious, whimsical, creative, youthful

Dramatic => Danger, sharp, narrow, boldness, wildness, theatrical, extravagance

Romantic => keywords of this face type essence => indulgence, alluring, sensual, curvier, glamour, luxury, soft, and lush lips.

Classic => Elegant, balance, controlled looking, symmetry, timeless, basic, default setting face, conservative, formal, neutral

Capricorn - Ambition, Realism and Methodical Steps (+ House Twelve - Spirituality, Transcendence, Karma, Sacrificial service, and healing)

This person looks ETHEREAL. High fashion niche brand model look. They look straight out of an anime, a webtoon and a runway AT THE SAME TIME. Many people could be jealous of them because of how good-looking they are. 

All I am hearing is “FACE CARD ? LETHAL.”. This person has a really intimidating energy, a striking aura and an authoritative vibe. Their depths and contradictions melt together and show up in such a way in their faces, and body, and the way they walk, talk , and look at people in a really fascinating way. Everyone thinks they’re good looking, but not everyone admits it out of jealousy. 

Some of them could have clear skin, or acne that looks aesthetic on their faces ? I’ve been seeing angel oracle cards (like angel michael,..) in my head so they probably look like an angel themselves. Go search for Mannerism paintings/art/painters. They remind me of those erotic homosexual (really sensual and sexual) paintings of the Renaissance.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆stay blessed everyone⋆.˚🦋༘⋆