#the background's kinda dull but other than that

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Witch Moon doodle that is now my lock screen. Not as detailed as I’d like it to be, but not bad. Still not sure about the colors, though.

[chosok-amo]

ONE TOO MANY : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

the first time you have an argument with your two boyfriends is because they've been ignoring you for weeks, so you return the favor.

wc. 4,3k | m.list | part. 2

warning. boyfriends! satosugu, angst to fluff (kinda), petnames, light arguments, silent treatment, and idk.

as you sit on the couch, the dim light of the living room casting long shadows across the room, you glance at the clock. it's late—much later than usual for geto and gojo to be coming home. a knot of worry tightens in your chest, but you push it aside. you know their work can be demanding, but you miss them.

the door finally creaks open, and your heart leaps as geto and gojo step inside. but something feels off. their usual smiles are absent, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion. geto barely acknowledges you with a nod, and gojo doesn't even glance your way, heading straight to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“hey...” you begin softly, but your voice trails off as they move around the room like you're not even there. geto drops his bag by the door and heads for the stairs, clearly ready to crash in bed without a word. gojo's usually bright eyes are dull, and when he finally looks at you, it's with a tired expression that makes your heart sink.

“i’m just... really tired,” gojo mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your gaze.

you feel a wave of frustration and hurt rise within you. they’ve had long days before, but they’ve never been so dismissive. you stand up, crossing your arms, trying to figure out what to say, how to break through whatever barrier has suddenly sprung up between you. “baby... what's going on?” you ask, your voice laced with concern.

geto pauses at the base of the stairs, sighing deeply, “just... give us some space, okay? we’ve had a rough day.”

his words hit you harder than they should, and you’re left standing there, feeling more alone than ever as they head off to bed without another word. the room feels colder, emptier, and you’re left wondering if it’s something you did, or if there’s something they’re not telling you.

the next morning you wake up to the smell of coffee and the soft sound of music coming from the kitchen. your stomach does a flip, a hint of excitement mixing with lingering unease. you slide out of bed and pad down the stairs, your heart rate picking up as you near the kitchen.

the sight that greets you is unexpected. geto and gojo stand side by side, their back to you as they putter in the kitchen. gojo's tall form easily dominates the space, his shoulders broader than you remembered. geto's hair is ruffled, still messy from sleep, and it's a stark contrast to his usually composed appearance. they haven't noticed you yet, engrossed in their task as they move around each other in a synchronized dance.

you lean against the doorway, watching them for a moment. gojo's slender fingers skillfully flip pancakes, and geto hums along to the music playing softly in the background, a spatula in his hand as he tends to the bacon.

it's a scene so domestic and natural, yet it feels surreal given their cold demeanor from last night. it's as if they're trying to pretend yesterday never happened, to go back to normalcy. geto suddenly looks up, catching your gaze. his expression turns serious, his dark eyes locking onto yours. gojo continues cooking, his back still to you, but you can almost feel the tension radiating from him.

“you're up,” geto comments, his voice neutral.

you clear your throat, trying to keep your tone light, “yeah, the coffee smell woke me up.”

“coffee's almost done,” gojo says without turning around, his voice lacking its usual playful edge. an awkward silence settles over the room, thick and stifling.

you watch as they continue to cook, each movement precise and calculated. no small talk, no casual touches or laughter like you're used to. gojo plates the pancakes and bacon, setting them on the table, before finally turning to face you. his normally bright eyes are cool and detached.

“breakfast is ready,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

you swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the distance between you growing wider with every passing moment. the breakfast they've prepared looks delicious, but sitting down to eat together feels like an impossible feat given the current atmosphere.

you shift your weight, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further. the air in the kitchen is charged, and the earlier domestic scene has been shattered. geto turns back to the stove, his shoulders tense as he tends to the food. gojo continues flipping pancakes, his movements more rigid than normal.

“so...” you begin, your voice breaking the silence, “about last night—”

“don't,” geto interrupts, his voice firm. “can we just not do this right now?”

his blunt response hangs in the air, and you're taken aback by his abruptness. you feel your frustration and confusion mounting, but before you can say anything, gojo puts down the spatula, his voice laced with irritation.

“yeah, maybe we should just focus on the food,” he says, avoiding your gaze. the room falls into an awkward silence again, only the sound of cooking filling the air. you can feel the tension building, the unspoken words and emotions hanging heavily between you.

you look at them for a second, just staring without saying a words and they can see how quickly your expression change to cold as clear as the day. you swallow hard, the words you want to say sticking in your throat. instead, you just nod, barely meeting his eyes as you mumble, “okay.” your voice comes out small, almost defeated, as you focus on the floor.

even as you agree to let it go, the hurt gnaws at you. you want to bridge the gap, to reach out to them, but the coldness in their demeanor keeps you at arm’s length. the silence stretches on, and you’re left feeling more alone than ever, standing just a few feet away from the two people you thought you were closest to.

the meal is eaten in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. neither geto nor gojo make an effort to talk like they usually do, their eyes focused on their food. gojo's movements are mechanical, while geto's gaze keeps shifting towards you, his expression a mixture of guilt and determination to keep his distance.

as you finish eating, they quickly rise, busying themselves with cleaning up, still avoiding any meaningful eye contact with you.

as satoru reaches for your plate, you finally speak up, your voice firmer than you expected, “don’t.” he freezes for a moment, his hand hovering over your plate. you can feel his gaze on you, but you don’t look up. “i’ll do it myself,” you add, your tone making it clear that this isn’t up for debate.

geto looks up, his eyes flicking between you and gojo as if silently trying to communicate. gojo seems ready to argue, his jaw clenching, but geto subtly shakes his head, a silent warning. a beat of tense silence passes before gojo reluctantly pulls back his hand, a flash of something that looks like hurt in his eyes. he mumbles something under his breath that you don't quite catch.

pushing down the knot of emotions threatening to choke you, you stand up from the table and walk towards the sink where geto is still standing, his presence a heavy weight in the small space. without looking at him, you ask, your voice edged with coldness, “are you done?”

geto nods, his expression unreadable as he steps back slightly. there’s a moment where you consider softening your tone, but the way they’ve been treating you today and days before hardens your resolve.

“then move,” you say, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. if they want to treat you like this, then you’re not going to just sit there and take it. you’ve given them space, tried to be patient, but their coldness is more than you can handle right now.

geto hesitates, a flash of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before he steps aside, giving you room to move past him. you take your plate to the sink, the cool metal under your fingers grounding you as you begin to rinse it off, your movements sharp, deliberate.

as you stand there, the sound of running water filling the silence, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their unspoken words pressing down on your shoulders. but you don’t turn around. if they want to push you away, you won’t beg them to stay close. not tonight, not anymore.

geto remains where he stands, watching you silently, while gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you as well. the minutes pass in a tense silence, the sound of the water and the clinking of dishes the only noise. you can feel their eyes on you, their gazes burning into your skin, but you keep your focus on the task at hand, refusing to break.

geto finally breaks the silence, his voice soft, but with an edge of determination, “can we talk?”

you pause for a moment, letting his request hang in the air. a bitter scoff escapes your lips as you turn off the water, feeling a surge of irony wash over you. you turn to face him, your expression hard as you look between geto and satoru. “oh, now you wanna talk?” you ask, your voice laced with mockery. “when i wanted to talk, you both shut me out. but now that i’m doing the same, suddenly it’s time for a conversation?”

there’s a biting edge to your words, a reflection of the hurt and frustration that’s been building up inside you all weeks. you don’t bother hiding it, letting them feel a fraction of what you’ve been feeling. if they want to push you away, then they’ll have to deal with the consequences.

geto falters, his expression flitting momentarily to gojo, before returning to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and stubbornness. gojo doesn’t say anything, his jaw set, but you can sense the tension radiating from him as well.

“i know,” geto starts, his voice a bit shaky, “i know we’re being unfair. we owe you an explanation. we just…” he trails off, his gaze breaking yours as he glances at gojo again, almost seeking validation. gojo remains silent, his face stoic, but his eyes betray a flicker of internal struggle.

they both shift uncomfortably under your sharp words, gojo’s gaze darting away and geto’s expression darkening. their discomfort only adds fuel to your indignation.

“yeah, it’s funny how that works, isn’t it?” you continue, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you ignore me for weeks and then suddenly want to talk when i’m finally done playing your little game. well, too bad. i’m done playing along,” you turn the water off and walk away to your shared bedroom.

gojo’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can step away. the suddenness of his action catches you off guard, his grip tight but not aggressive. “wait,” he says, his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

geto steps towards you, his expression a mix of guilt and determination, “please.”

the desperation in their voices is unmistakable, and it’s the first sign of vulnerability they’ve shown all weeks. it’s enough to make you hesitate, to feel a flicker of reluctance. but you stood on your grounds— trying to stood on your ground. “i have works to do,” you mumble before push his hand away.

the past few days have been a blur, a mixture of long hours and late nights. you've been coming home later and later, deliberately avoiding going to bed with them, choosing instead to crash on the couch, wrapped in a blanket of silence and exhaustion. it’s not just the late nights—it’s the subtle shift in your routine, the way you’ve distanced yourself, mirroring the coldness they showed you that night. you’re not even sure if they’ve noticed, but it’s become your own form of silent rebellion, a way to protect yourself.

tonight is no different. when you finally walk through the door, it’s nearly one in the morning, your body heavy with fatigue. you’re expecting the house to be dark and quiet, but as you step into the kitchen, the soft light catches your attention. they’re both there, geto and gojo, standing near the stove, the faint smell of food lingering in the air.

gojo looks up first, his expression serious but tinged with something you can’t quite place. geto follows, his gaze steady as he watches you enter. “can we talk?” gojo asks, his voice more gentle than it’s been in days.

you hesitate, your hand tightening around the strap of your bag. “talk about what?” you reply, your voice is neutral, guarded. geto steps closer, concern etched into his features. “we heard you’ve started taking missions again,” he says quietly, the words heavy with implication. “why?”

you feel a flicker of something—anger, maybe, or frustration. they ignored you, pushed you away, and now they want to question your choices? it feels like a cruel twist of fate.

“why not?” you shoot back, dropping your bag onto the counter with a soft thud. “i figured if you two can focus on work and shut me out, then maybe i should do the same. why waste time waiting around?”

gojo's expression hardens at your answer, a shadow passing over his features. geto’s eyes flick between you both, his expression pained. “we’re not shutting you out,” gojo insists, his voice strained, “we’re just..”

“busy,” geto finishes, his gaze dropping to the floor.

the kitchen falls into thick silence, the tension stretching the air between you all. gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, while geto stands in the middle, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense.

you feel the pressure of their gazes on you, waiting for some reaction, some sign of understanding or forgiveness. but instead, you simply shrug your shoulders, your expression carefully neutral. “okay,” you mutter, the word simple but loaded with a cold indifference that makes their attempts at explanation feel small.

gojo shifts his weight, clearly frustrated by your continued coldness. his jaw clenches. geto tries a different angle, his voice soft. “we've been worried about you being out there alone.”

your eyes flicker back to his, and a flash of irritation passes through them. “alone?” you echo, a bitter edge to your tone. “really? you guys have been MIA for weeks, but now you're worried about me being alone?” the absurdity of the situation hits you, and a mocking laugh bubbles up, escaping in a few harsh chuckles. “you guys are unbelievable,” you say, the laughter carrying a mix of disbelief and hurt.

the laughter seems to take them by surprise, their faces reflecting a mix of guilt and confusion. the mocking tone of your voice stings, cutting through their attempts at reconciliation with a sharp edge.

gojo's jaw tenses, his hand clenching into a fist.

geto winces at the sound of your laughter, his eyes downcast. “i know it looks bad,” he murmurs, his voice almost pitiful.

“looks bad?” you repeat, your voice raises an octave, anger leaking into your words. “that's a nice way to put it. you two have been distant for weeks, acting like i don't even exist. then suddenly you're here, in the kitchen, when you know most nights i get home late.”

you step forward, your eyes narrowing as you gesture towards them. “were you waiting for me?” you ask, your voice quiet but seething with anger. “were you hoping to catch me in a weak moment, when i'm tired and vulnerable, so you could have this little heart-to-heart and feel better about yourselves?”

they both take a step back, looking taken aback by your sudden aggression. gojo's expression is a mix of guilt and defensiveness, while geto's eyes widen at the accusation. you take a deep breath, letting the anger ebb away just enough to speak. “i don't have time for this,” you say, letting out a sigh, “i only came home to get my things because my flight leaves in two hours. i’ve got a mission abroad for a week.”

the reality of your departure hangs in the air, the urgency in your voice making it clear that this conversation will have to wait. you turn, starting to gather your things, feeling the weight of their eyes on you as you move. the distance between you all feels like an insurmountable chasm, but for now, you have to focus on what’s ahead.

geto's eyes widen in surprise, while gojo's face pales. “wait—” they both speak at the same time, their voices filled with a mix of shock and desperation. geto quickly regains his composure, stepping forward, his arm reaching out. “hold on a second,” he says, his voice urgent, “you can't just leave—” gojo cuts in, his expression a mix of guilt and worry. “you’re not seriously going alone, are you?”

you brush off geto's arm, continuing to gather your things. “i don't have a choice,” you reply, your voice firm. “the higher-ups assigned me to the mission. i have to go.” gojo steps in front of you, his eyes meeting yours, a hint of pleading in them. “can we at least talk about this?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you pause, hesitating for a moment before shaking your head. “there’s nothing to talk about. my flight leaves soon, and i have to get ready.”

you can see the hurt in their eyes, the realization of your words sinking in. they hadn’t been there for you, and now they expected you to stay? to wait around for a conversation you didn’t think they even wanted to have?

gojo runs a hand through his hair, his expression frustrated. “what if something happens to you out there?” he says, his voice low and tense. geto steps forward, his eyes on yours, his voice pleading. “you can’t just leave things like this.” the desperation in their voices is a stark contrast to the coldness you’ve been experiencing these past few days. but it’s too little, too late.

your hands pause for a moment, your heart rate increasing at their reactions. you had wanted a reaction, but this intense concern was not what you had expected. you look back at them, your expression carefully nonchalant, despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

“why not?” you asked, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil. “you two are the ones who have been busy and distant. if you've got your own priorities, then why can't i have mine?”

gojo lets out a frustrated exhale, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. “that's not fair,” he mutters, his voice strained. geto looks torn, his eyes flickering between you and gojo. “just because we've been preoccupied doesn’t mean we don’t care.” the guilt in his voice is evident, mirroring the guilt you’ve been feeling. but you push it aside, trying to maintain the facade of indifference.

you let out a heavy sigh and sit down, looking up at them with a weary expression. “then what's fair, satoru?” you ask, your voice is steady but tinged with frustration. “tell me. i’ve been waiting for you two for days, weeks even. when i don’t wait around and i finally start doing things for myself, that’s not fair?”

the question hangs in the air, the weight of it pressing down on all of you. the silence that follows is thick with unresolved feelings, leaving the three of you standing on the edge of understanding, yet unable to bridge the gap between you.

gojo's gaze drops to the floor, his jaw clenching as if he’s struggling with his own emotions. geto's eyes flit between you both, his expression pained as he takes in your words. there's a moment of heavy silence before gojo finally speaks up, his voice low and laced with something you can’t quite place.

“you're right,” he admits, his eyes lifting to meet yours. “we've been shitty. we’ve been distant, ignoring you, making you feel like we don’t care.” geto nods in agreement, his eyes meeting yours as well. “we messed up,” he adds, his voice soft. “we've been dealing with some things and we shut you out.”

gojo runs a hand through his hair again, his gaze darting away and then back to yours. “we didn't mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice quiet but sincere, “we just... we weren't thinking.” the weight of their words hangs heavily in the air, and you feel a pang of sadness at their regret. “but you did hurt me,” you reply softly, your voice carrying a trace of vulnerability.

they both flinch at your words, their expressions flickering with guilt and remorse. gojo lets out a heavy sigh, his hands clenching into fists.

“we know,” he mutters, his voice almost a whisper. geto steps closer, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. “we were idiots,” he says, his voice filled with remorse, “we didn't realize how much we were hurting you until you started spending less time with us.”

you take a deep breath as you stand to leave, the unspoken emotions and unresolved tension still linger between you. “i need to go. ijichi is waiting for me,” you say, the words firm but carrying an undertone of sadness.

you pause at the door, looking back at them. “we can talk when i get home,” you add, offering a faint, weary smile before stepping out. the door closes behind you, leaving them with the weight of your words and the promise of a future conversation.

they both watch you leave, their expressions a mixture of guilt, sorrow and a hint of hope. gojo's shoulders slump as you close the door behind you, while geto lets out a sigh, his eyes still fixed on the empty space where you were just a moment ago.

the apartment feels strangely quiet without you, the weight of the conversation still lingering in the air. they both know they have a lot to make up for, but for now, they wait, anxiously anticipating your return.

a week has passed, and the tension has only built as they waited for your return. when you finally come home, the sight that greets you in the living room is striking. geto and gojo are there, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and desperation. they look worn, their usual composure replaced by a sense of helplessness, as though the time apart has taken a visible toll on them.

they both rise as you enter, their eyes searching your face, a mix of hope and apprehension in their gazes. it’s clear they’ve been counting the days, each passing moment stretching into a painful reminder of their mistakes and your absence.

“hey,” you greet them with a small, tentative smile.

the room is thick with unspoken words and emotions. geto and gojo exchange a glance, their expressions softening slightly at your presence. they both take in your appearance, their eyes roving over you as if checking for any sign of injury from your recent mission. their shoulders relax somewhat, relieved that you're relatively unharmed.

gojo is the first to speak, his voice low and hoarse, as if he hasn't used it much these past few days. “you're back,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on yours. geto stands behind him, his arms crossed as if holding back his own mixture of relief and anxiety. “how was the mission?” he asks, his voice a soft counterpoint to the tense silence.

you nod, your smile fading slightly as you respond. “the mission went well,” you say, your voice calm but carrying a hint of fatigue. geto uncrosses his arms, his posture relaxing a bit, while gojo’s shoulders seem to ease from their tightness. the tension in the room begins to shift, making way for the conversation and reconciliation that have been waiting for this moment.

you nod in response, your heart feeling the weight of the moment. “yeah, we can talk,” you say, but the words feel inadequate for what you’re really craving. “but could you hug me? i feel like i’m going to lose my mind if i don’t get a hug from you right now.”

gojo doesn't need to be told twice. he immediately steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a tight grip, pulling you into his chest, his embrace so strong it almost lifts you off the ground. he buries his face in your hair, his breath shaky against your skin. “god, i missed you so much,” he murmurs, the words muffled against you.

geto hesitates for a moment, watching gojo's embrace. the sight of it makes his chest ache, a pang of jealousy mixed with guilt. but then, as if unable to resist, he steps closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind, his front pressed against your back. his embrace is gentler than gojo's, but no less heartfelt. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

you let out a deep sigh of relief as they wrap their arms around you. the warmth and closeness of their embrace offer a sense of comfort that you've been missing. the tension that’s built up over the past week starts to dissolve, replaced by the soothing reassurance of their presence. in this moment, the words and explanations can wait as you simply allow yourself to be held and to feel that things might start to mend.

they both hold you tight, their arms firm against you. their hold is almost possessive, as if they're afraid you're going to slip away. they don't say anything, their only response a mix of soft breathing and the occasional whispered murmur of your name.

after a few moments, gojo pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. his blue eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn't seen you in years. his voice is hoarse when he speaks, filled with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability. “can we sit?” you nod, a small but weary smile crossing your face. “yeah, let’s sit,” you agree, feeling the weight of the past week begin to lift just a little as you prepare to talk and hopefully begin to heal together.

they both guide you to the couch, with gojo sitting beside you while geto takes the armchair across from the two of you. as you settle into the cushions, their eyes follow your every move, as if afraid you might disappear again at any moment.

the room is silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. gojo seems a bit unsure where to start, his eyes flickering between you and geto. geto takes the initiative, his eyes staying fixed on you. “we owe you an explanation,” he says, his voice soft but filled with regret. “we understand why you’re angry at us, and we’re sorry.”

gojo fidgets beside you, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands in his lap before he forces himself to look at you again. “we were caught up in some things,” he says, his voice low and almost ashamed. “and we shouldn’t have shut you out like we did.”

geto nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “we were idiots, plain and simple,” he admits, his voice filled with remorse. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you started distancing yourself from us. seeing you leave, not knowing if you were okay or not, it was one of the worst things we’ve ever experienced.”

you listen quietly, your fingers absently playing with the hem of your skirt. their words, while sincere, do little to erase the hurt you still feel from the past week. the pain lingers, a reminder of the distance and isolation you felt.

they both notice your distant expression, the silence in the room growing heavier. gojo’s hand clenches into a fist by his side, his eyes pained as he watches you fiddle with your skirt. geto’s eyes flicker to gojo for a moment before refocusing on you. he seems to struggle for words, his expression filled with regret. “can you look at us?” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of pleading.

you slowly lift your gaze, meeting their eyes. the hurt is still there, but you try to convey a sense of willingness to listen and understand. “i’m here,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lingering pain. “i’m listening.”

gojo's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily, to take yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, as if seeking some physical connection to ground him. his grip is gentle but firm, a plea for forgiveness and understanding in his touch.

geto's eyes flicker between your faces, his expression taut. “we’ve been careless,” he says, his voice thick with remorse. “we’ve been too lost in other things and we didn’t pay enough attention to you. and that was wrong of us.”

as geto speaks, his remorse is evident in his voice, you take a deep breath. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks,” you say, your voice steady but tinged with the hurt you've been holding onto. “it wasn’t just about not paying enough attention. it felt like you didn’t care at all, and that really hurt.”

they both flinch at your words, their expressions crumpling with guilt. gojo’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes dark with remorse, while geto nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.

“we didn’t mean to make you feel like we didn’t care,” geto says softly, his voice filled with regret. “we were just…” he trails off, struggling to articulate the weight of their actions.

gojo steps in, his voice strained. “we were dealing with some stuff, and we didn’t handle it well. there were ongoing issues with the higher-ups, never-ending missions, and the stress of yuuta and yuji’s executions. the pressure from the school and everything else just piled up, and we let it affect how we treated you.”

the added context helps to explain their actions, but it doesn’t completely erase the pain. the burden of their responsibilities and the way they’ve neglected you come into clearer focus, but the healing process will take time and effort from all sides.

you take a deep breath, your voice steady despite the lingering hurt. “i know you were dealing with a lot,” you say quietly. “i’m dealing with the same stuff—higher-ups, never-ending missions, everything that comes with it. but that doesn’t mean it was okay for you to shut me out.”

you squeeze gojo's hand gently, the firmness of your grip reflecting your resolve. “i understand that you were overwhelmed, but it didn’t excuse how you treated me. i needed you, and instead, i felt abandoned.” the words hang in the air, leaving room for reflection and a path towards healing.

they both hang their heads, their expressions marked by remorse. gojo's grip on your hand tightens, as if begging you to understand. geto’s eyes avoid yours, his guilt palpable. they both know you’re right, their previous justifications sounding hollow now.

gojo sighs heavily, his voice soft but firm. “we know we screwed up,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again. “and we're sorry. we truly are. we shouldn't have let our issues affect how we treated you. you deserve better than what we've given you.”

you take a deep breath, your voice trembling as you begin to speak. “i tried to take fewer missions because i know you both were worried. i wanted to be around more, to show you that I care. but every night... every night, when i’m in bed between you two, you turn your backs on me.”

your tears start to blur your vision, and you struggle to keep your composure. “no matter which side i turn, all i see is your backs. it felt like you were shutting me out, like I was invisible to you. i feel like i have nowhere to go, and feel more alone.”

the emotion in your voice is raw, and the tears that spill down your cheeks only deepen the weight of what you’re expressing. the room fills with the sound of your quiet sobs, adding a poignant layer to the shared moment of vulnerability.

their eyes widen as you continue, their expressions turning pained as you lay bare the depths of your hurt. gojo's grip on your hand turns almost crushing as he listens to your words, his heart clenching as he hears the anguish in your voice.

geto's face is pale, his throat bobbing as he swallows, the sight of your tears a physical manifestation of the pain they've caused. gojo's voice is rough, his eyes fixed on yours. “we didn’t think you felt that way,” he says, his voice hoarse. “we’re sorry. we were idiots.”

gojo’s other hand reaches up, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away some of your tears. “please don’t cry,” he mumbles, his voice cracking as he watches you cry. geto sits up straighter, his eyes fixed on your tear-stained face. “we’ll fix this,” he promises, his voice filled with resolve.

gojo nods, his eyes soft as they roam over your face. “please, just let us make it up to you,” he says quietly, his hand still holding your cheek.

you take a shuddering breath, your voice wavering but firm. “you know how it was at home before i came to jujutsu high. i was always walking on eggshells every day. i don’t want to feel that way with you two. i love you both so much, and it hurts to feel like i’m just an afterthought.” the weight of your words hangs in the air, a poignant reminder of your vulnerability and the deep emotional connection you share.

you look at them with a mix of sadness and fear, your voice trembling. “and i feel so scared because i’ve started to think that maybe I should leave. i don’t want to, but the way things have been... it makes me wonder if staying is just going to hurt more.” the admission is heavy, your fear of leaving mingling with the pain of feeling disconnected. It’s a vulnerable moment, revealing the depth of your uncertainty and the impact their actions have had on you.

their eyes widen at your words, their expressions changing from guilt to fear. gojo’s hand tightens on your cheek, his eyes turning desperate, while geto’s hands clench into fists in his lap. gojo’s voice is strained, his eyes searching yours. “please don’t talk like that,” he murmurs, his tone pleading. “please don’t even think about leaving.”

geto scoots to the edge of the armchair, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. “you don’t have to go. we can fix this, just stay.”

they know, from the moment you first got met each other and you told them they were going to go down in history as the world’s biggest idiots instead of swoon over them, that you’re not the type of person to be a pushover. they’ve always admired how you refuse to let anyone disrespect you or treat you as less than you deserve. from the beginning, they understood that once someone starts treating you badly, you’re ready to leave—no matter how much you love them—because your self-respect has always been paramount.

and now, as you stand before them, telling them that if leaving is what it takes to keep yourself at peace, you’ll take that chance and face the consequences, they can feel the weight of that truth. their admiration for your strength has always been part of what they love about you, but now that very strength threatens to take you away from them.

the fear in their eyes deepens, a reflection of the realization that they’ve pushed you to the edge, and they know you won’t hesitate to step away if it means preserving your sense of self-worth.

they sit in stunned silence for a few moments, the weight of your words sinking in. they know you well enough to know that when you say you'll leave, you'll follow through. the thought of losing you, of losing what they have, is too painful to bear.

geto breaks the silence first, his voice soft but filled with an edge of desperation. “you don’t have to leave. we can fix this.” gojo nods frantically, his hand on your cheek holding you more firmly now. “please, don’t talk about leaving,” he murmurs, his eyes pleading.

you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in the room as they hold onto you, their desperation clear. “i did think about leaving,” you admit, your voice is soft but steady. “but it was just for a second because i can’t bear the thought of living without you two. i love you both too much, and that’s why i’m here, willing to talk.”

their grip on you tightens slightly, a mix of relief and guilt washing over their faces. geto’s shoulders relax a little, and gojo’s eyes soften as he hears your words. “i don’t want to lose you,” you continue, “but i need to know that things are going to change. i need to feel like i matter to you as much as you matter to me.”

they both nod slowly, understanding the seriousness of the situation. their hands remain firmly on you, desperate to maintain whatever connection they still have with you.

gojo’s eyes are filled with remorse, his voice soft. “you matter to us,” he says quietly, “so much more than you ever realize. we’ve been idiots. we took you for granted, and we didn’t give you the attention and care you deserve. that ends now.”

geto nods, his expression taut. “we’ll do better,” he says firmly, his voice filled with determination.

they both hold onto you tightly, as if trying to convey the depth of their feelings through touch alone. gojo’s eyes are fixed on yours, his expression filled with remorse. “we’ve been so focused on our own problems that we neglected you,” he mutters, his voice soft. “that won’t happen again. we swear it.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand reaching out to hold your other cheek softly. “we were stupid,” he says bluntly. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you were almost gone.”

you intertwine your hands with theirs, holding onto them firmly as you look into their eyes. “i’m not going to apologize for how i acted this past week,” you say, your voice calm but resolute. “i was just trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, to make you feel the effects of your actions. but that doesn’t change the fact that i love you both so much.”

they both nod, their eyes dropping to your intertwined hands. they know you're right, that you don't owe them any apologies. they have hurt you, and they know it's up to them to make amends.

gojo speaks first, his voice soft but firm. “we don’t expect you to apologize,” he says, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. “we deserve what we got. you had every right to react the way you did.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we were selfish, careless,” he murmurs. “we’re sorry.” you smile softly at them, feeling the weight of their remorse in the way they hold onto you. “i don’t mind you prioritizing your work,” you say gently, your fingers tightening around theirs. “you’re the strongest jujutsu sorcerers, and people rely on you. it’s your responsibility, and i understand that. i just don’t want you to turn your backs on me again.”

their expressions reflect the truth of your words. they know the demands of their profession, and they know they'll always be expected to prioritize their work. but they also know they messed up by neglecting you in the process.

gojo’s eyes stay fixed on yours, his voice low. “we won’t let that happen again,” he promises, his hand gently squeezing your cheek. “we’re going to find a way to balance our responsibilities and give you the attention you deserve.”

you lean your side against gojo's chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his body. with your hands still intertwined with theirs on your lap, you look up at them, your voice gentle but firm. “please, just talk to me when you’re feeling down or overwhelmed or anything,” you ask, your eyes searching theirs for understanding. “i’m here for you, and i want to help. but i can’t if you shut me out.”

gojo wraps his arm around you as you lean against him, his eyes softening as he listens to your words. geto nods in agreement, his grip on your hand gentle but firm.

gojo’s voice is soft, filled with a hint of guilt. “we know,” he says quietly. “we were wrong to shut you out. we promise we’ll communicate better from now on.” geto’s expression is taut but sincere. “we’ll talk to you when we’re struggling, and we’ll make sure you’re still a priority.”

you smile softly at them, a sense of relief washing over you as you feel the sincerity in their words. “thank you,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude. “thank you for trying to sort things out instead of just letting it be.”

they both look at you, their eyes filled with a mix of guilt and love. gojo’s arm tightens around you, holding you closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your hand in his. gojo nods, his expression firm. “you’re too important to us to let things fall apart like this.”

geto's voice is soft but determined. “we’ll do whatever it takes to make it right again.”

they sit with you in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the air filled with a mixture of relief and unspoken emotions. gojo's hold on you remains firm, his broad chest firm and warm against your side, while geto's hand gently intertwines your fingers with his.

finally, gojo speaks, his voice soft. “can you promise us something?”

you hum softly in response, your curiosity piqued by gojo’s gentle tone. you glance up at him, waiting for what he has to say, still feeling the warmth of their touch grounding you.

gojo's eyes meet yours, his gaze unusually serious. “promise us that you won’t shut us out either,” he says quietly. geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we want to know when you’re not okay,” he adds, his voice firm but gentle. “we don’t want a repeat of this week. we don’t want you to feel like you have nowhere to go.”

you nod softly, feeling the sincerity in their words. “okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. the promise settles between you all, a silent understanding that things will be different moving forward. the weight of the past week begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewed connection.

they both nod at your response, a visible relief washed over them. gojo's grip on you tightens again, his arm holding you even closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your fingers in his.

they both watch you for a few moments, their gazes filled with a mixture of love and newfound determination. they can feel the shift in the air between you, and finally, gojo speaks again, his voice quiet.

“can we ask you something?”

gojo smiles faintly, the sight of your smile melting away some of the tension in his own face. he glances at geto, who nods slightly, before returning his attention to you. “can we sleep with you tonight?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere. “we miss you.”

you playfully roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “of course,” you say softly, “i miss you too.”

they both exhale a sigh of relief, their expressions relaxing instantly. gojo’s arm squeezes you again, his body pressing against you firmly. geto’s grip on your fingers tightens slightly as his eyes linger on your face.

gojo’s voice is low, the relief clear in every syllable. “thank god,” he mutters, his voice heavy but filled with something soft and sincere.

geto nods slightly, his eyes meeting gojo’s for a moment before he turns his gaze back to you. “we missed holding you,” he says quietly, his voice equally as sincere. you look at geto, noticing the lingering guilt in his eyes. geto’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting the lingering guilt. “come here,” you say softly. when you tell him to come closer, he moves to kneel between your legs, his expression still marked by regret.

as you slip his long hair behind his ear, your touch is gentle and reassuring. “you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” you say softly, your voice filled with understanding. “i know you care deeply, and that’s why this hurts. but you’re not alone in this.”

geto's shoulders slump at your words, the weight of his guilt visibly lessening. his eyes stay fixed on yours, the regret in them slowly being replaced by a soft vulnerability.

he leans into your touch, his head tilting slightly involuntarily at the touch of your fingers to his hair. “i know,” he mutters, his voice still heavy with guilt. “i just wish i hadn't let it get this bad.” geto’s voice is soft, the regret and guilt audible in it. “i just… i just can’t forgive myself for causing you pain,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

you give him a reassuring smile, your voice gentle. “i’m not in pain anymore, so you can stop feeling guilty,” you say softly. “we’ve talked things out, and we’re moving forward. it’s okay to let go of that guilt now. we’re okay.”

geto’s eyes search yours, the guilt still visible but diminishing by the second. he nods slowly, his expression taut but hopeful. he speaks softly, his voice still laced slightly with regret. “i know. but i just… it’s hard to shake this feeling, you know? it’s like a knot in my chest that won’t loosen.”

you lean down and gently kiss his chest, then move to his neck and jaw, your touch tender and soothing. each kiss is a silent reassurance, conveying that you're okay now and that you're not mad at him anymore. your actions are meant to comfort and ease the lingering regret he feels, showing him through your touch that things are healing.

his breath hitches at the feel of your lips on his chest, his body tensing for a brief moment before melting into your touch. each press of your lips sends waves of comfort through him, the knot in his chest loosening with every gentle kiss.

he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer, his grip tight and unyielding. when your lips reach his jaw, he tilts his head to give you better access, his eyes fluttering shut. you pull away slightly, your hands still resting gently on his shoulders. you look into his eyes with a soft, reassuring gaze. “don’t feel guilty anymore,” you say gently. “we’re okay. let go of that weight you’re carrying. we’re moving forward together.”

his eyes open slowly, meeting yours. the guilt in his eyes has lessened even more, replaced by a deep vulnerability and newfound trust. he nods slowly, his hands gently pulling you even closer to him.

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice soft and sincere. “i’m trying, i promise,” he murmurs. “i’m trying to let it go. it’s just… it’s just hard, sometimes.”

“shut up, stop it,” you softly murmur. you gently move your hands from his shoulders to his neck, guiding him closer. “come here,” you whisper softly, pulling him towards you until your lips touch his.

he smiles faintly at your soft command, his body willingly moved closer to yours. he doesn’t protest when you gently pull him closer, his eyes closing instinctively as your lips meet his.

the kiss starts slow and hesitant, his body tense against yours as if he’s expecting you to pull away at any second. but gradually, his lips soften, the tension in his body melting away as he surrenders to the tender connection. as geto continues to lean towards you, your back gently presses against gojo’s firm chest. gojo's arms instinctively wrap around you from behind, his presence a comforting anchor as you and geto share a tender kiss. the closeness between all three of you creates a cocoon of warmth and reassurance.

[newtkive]

practice - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader, mentioned platonic marcus x reader

summary: The sudden changes at your work prove to be a lot to keep up with, but Carmy notices your efforts where you think he’s just a tough boss. He proves to be more than that when he finds you pulling an all-nighter at the restaurant.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: none really, anxious reader, ooc!carmen (he would never let mistakes fly like this lmao), kinda fluff at the end

a/n: this is basically how i would react working there bc i almost have an anxiety attack every ep watching carmy yell at everyone. sorry for any typos!

The fast moving pace that Carmen Berzatto brought to The Beef was something extraordinary. The skill of his professional chef background was carried over into the small hole in the wall that otherwise would have never changed if it wasn’t for him.

His drive was contagious, even infecting the staff you knew like the back of your hand. You never would have thought your coworkers, ever comfortable with a stagnant pace, would become accustomed to such change around their second home.

It was great to see your favorite people quickly see their own potential thanks to Carmy’s vision. The only problem was you.

You were falling behind, and quickly.

You tried to convince yourself you could keep up as things changed. But your mind was faster than your barely skilled hands and you were terrible at cutting ingredients evenly during a rush and you always somehow got sliced or burnt and your eyes always stung from the onions you were stuck prepping because that was the one job you couldn’t fuck up but hated— to put it simply, you sucked.

The faces of your coworkers reflected what you feared every time you turned around to take a breath, heels of your hands rubbing tears from your eyes as Carmy screamed profanities at the crew. Tina’s eyes would linger on you, brows raised and silently asking if you were okay. You would nod and blink the tears away before jumping back in. By the end of every shift Ebraheim would pat you on the back before leaving, and Sydney would send you a small, sympathetic smile and wave while you tied your shoes on the bench near the locker.

Each time you could see the sympathy in their eyes and it made you hate yourself even more.

You were used to sandwiches; assembling simple ingredients between a hoagie bun on a slow Sunday surrounded by the people you called family. Cracking jokes here and there, no pressure to make things completely perfect, which ended up making things perfect. So much so that regulars even seemed disappointed to see you up at the register some days instead of in the kitchen assembling their lunch.

Carmy wasn’t blind, he could see exactly what was going on, which was why he didn’t pick on you as much as he did when he first arrived.

The first couples of weeks that Carmy was there he noticed the difference in your station compared to everyone else’s. Organized, cohesive, clean—save for the multiple drinks you always had. You worked at your own pace, not slow but definitely not up to par with Carmen’s standards. You made it work though, cutting ingredients almost perfectly and whipping up sandwiches and other specialties not a second too late.

The change happened when Carmy upped the stakes and encouraged—or yelled at—everyone to be as quick as they possibly could. His yelling was off putting, and you didn’t respond well to much other than positive reinforcement.

The chef didn’t notice until the uneven bread and too-thin tomato slices lead back to you. He was quick, marching over to you with a purpose; if it was a cartoon, his hair would be alight with fire. “Chef!” His voice was hard and urgent, because he didn’t have time to deal with this.

As he approached, he noticed your hands shaking as you held the dull shitty knife, head whipping up and cheeks red, all but heaving from the pressure. So much pressure.

“Yes Chef?” You asked attentively, waiting for him to explode.

Carmen had all intentions to do just that, tear you a new one, tell you that you’ve been here long enough to know how to cut a fuckin’ tomato the right way but he paused. The look in your eye was wild and scared. His face fell, obvious turmoil behind his blue eyes causing a change in his decision. You waited with bated breath, but what you were expecting never came.

Instead, Carmen did his best to be calm and set his hand on the counter, leaning a bit. “I want you to show me how to slice that tomato.” He said.

“What?” You were confused and it was clearly written on your face. So were your nosy coworkers who exchanged looks and shrugged, expecting the young man to wail on you with his words.

Looking over your shoulder at the others, you tried to exchange weary looks with anyone but Carmy pulled you back in with his words. “Don’t worry about their shit. C’mon, show me.” He said again, motioning to the tomato sitting on the cutting board, looking at you expectantly.

After a beat of weariness you did what he asked. With an exhale your knife pierced the red skin and cut it, your wrist dragging it back and forth to cut all the way through. You gave a few more slices, doing your best to ignore his scrutinizing gaze.

Reviewing your slices, you mentally pat yourself on the back at the sight of them perfectly even and a fairly thin. You turned to look at Carmy, and he seemed to have an epiphany as he stood there holding his chin. Eyes flickering up to you, he nodded. “You know what that showed me?” He asked, and before you could answer he continued. “You’re competent, you did that shit with a dull knife. Don’t cut ‘em too thick or too thin, you have no excuses.”

He should feel ridiculous, like he was coaching a baby how to do the easiest job in the world, but for some reason Carmen was able to swallow his irritation and try to guide you.

You nodded, back straightening and hands sweaty. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmy was about to walk off but stopped himself, turning back around, eyes boring into yours as he grew more serious. “You hear me yelling, you listen, but I need you to focus, Chef. You can do this shit, I’ve seen you pull through before. Don’t let my mouth get to your fuckin’ head.” He said low enough just for the both of you to hear.

He was close, blue eyes staring right at you, the smell of the kitchen clinging onto his apron. It should’ve been intimidating, and it was a little, but you knew this was his version of offering comfort and maybe even some sort of apology.

“Heard, Chef.” You said just as quietly back.

There was a second of him staring, before he simply walked away without another word, leaving you to your own devices. Whatever he said seemed to put some perspective into your work, because you didn’t have anys setbacks for the rest of the day.

On the way home, sitting on the train with headphones in your ears and a jacket wrapping you up tight, Carmy’s words swirled in your head. You knew you could do this, and you could somewhat see in Carmy’s eyes that he had faith in you too. It was just a new world you were all suddenly thrown into and it was hard finding your place. On days where you felt like a baby fawn standing on shaky legs, wobbling and failing to find your footing, you had to keep going.

A single word rang in your mind.

Practice.

Your apartment was pretty small and shared with a roommate, so you lacked the accommodations and tools to really do all you wanted. Aside from that, you didn’t want to be the rude roomie who clashed pans in the kitchen all night long. So, as you made your way off the train you didn’t leave the station. Instead, you waited for the next ride to the city and headed straight for The Beef.

The sun set as you approached the back door, humming a tune as you pulled out a spare key—one that definitley would be confiscated once Carmy found out about it, probably clambering about it not being safe in the foreseeable future—from under the fuse box outside and unlocked the door.

You entered the kitchen, brows immediately raising as you saw all of the kitchen lights on. Slowly moving forward, a sense of anxiety grew as you knew no one would usually be here except for Carmy, and you really did not want to get a talking to from him right now.

Turning the corner, you sighed in relief when you saw the familiar stature that belong to Marcus. He had his phone out, recipe pulled up in front of him and a song playing softly from the speakers that he sang along to. You chuckled softly, alerting him of your presence. Head snapping up at the sound, he almost looked like a deer in the headlights as he met your eyes.

Similarly to you, he let out a relieved sigh and sent you a smile. “Scared me, Y/N.” He laughed softly, hands whisking again.

“Sorry.” You apologized, tugging your coat off. “What’re you doing here, man?” You asked as you headed over to the lockers and shoved your stuff away.

Marcus shrugged. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Practice.” You said simply, shrugging and tying your apron around your waist. Approaching the kitchen, you started gathering a few clean pots to start your work.

Humming and nodding, Marcus gave you a knowing grin. “Same here.” There was a beat of comfortable silence as you gathered a knife, cutting board, and an onion before washing your hands. “I actually stay here sometimes overnight. It’s easier, that way I won’t waste time going back and forth from home.” Marcus explained.

Surprise filled your features and you sent him an impressed look. “Wow, no wonder you’re getting better fast.”

He chuckles bashfully, filling another mixing bowl with flour and whatever else he desired. “Eh, I guess.” The shrug of his shoulders made you laugh before you turned back to your own work.

With one last question of Marcus asking if you minded his music, and you affirming that you didn’t mind at all, he turned the dial on his bluetooth radio up and you both fell into a comfortable rhythm; Marcus in his corner and you on the stovetop.

By the end of the evening you prepared a vibrant beef braciole dish that a few of the others had been practicing since Carmy introduced it. You brought it to one of the stainless steel counters with two forks, setting it next to the two pieces of cake Marcus had sliced up from his recipe of the evening.

You both dug in, humming in satisfaction as you tasted each other’s creations, sharing impressed and ‘holy shit’ expressions that made the other laugh.

“This is fantastic.” Marcus said, another mouthful of beef being added to his mouth.

You laughed and shook your head, muttering a thank you, trying to swallow down your surprise. Marcus could tell, because he doubled down. “No, really, Y/N. This is the best one I’ve tasted yet, aside from the big Chef.” He said with a grin.

Shaking your head, you gave him your appreciation. “Thank you, Chef. I can say the same thing from you.” You motioned with your fork to the cake. In truth, his words pushed you and affected you more than you lead on.

The both of you fell into a rhythm, whipping up treats and savory meals almost every day after work. Marcus playing music at his own station, you timing yourself relentlessly to try and replicate the fast pace of the open hours of the restaurant. You sometimes even found yourself staying overnight, taking turns with Marcus to use his sleeping bag—he insisted where you didn't want to overstep, but sleep called you and his pillow was comfy.

Relentless practice proved to keep you on track and up to pace with everyone else, slowly but surely. The impressed glances shared between Tina and Sydney every time you had them taste a dish or were quicker than usual were enough, but Carmen was ever the critic. A new menu soon graced The Beef alongside their regular sandwiches, and it was a tough menu to master. You almost had them all down pat, practicing relentlessly for almost four weeks now after work.

However, every time you presented a steaming spoonful of stew, or a perfect bite of chicken piccata that everyone else in the kitchen seemed to love, Carmen would bite into it, hum, and shake his head. "Good." He said every time.

"Good like.. good good? Or good but start over, it's trash, throw it away?" You would ask, clearly waiting with baited breath on a slow day.

Carmy shook his head again. "It's not ready yet, Chef." And then he would be off to collect more expo receipts and leave you there disappointed, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"I think it's great, Chef." Marcus would smile, hands busy working on dough for his unmastered donuts. You would offer a sad smile in return, marching off to assemble another hoagie and handing your failed dish to a waiting Richie in exchange for an appreciative rub of his hands together. The negative feedback only spurred you to improve your craft as much as you could.

It was a rare occasion that Marcus didn't stay at the restaurant overnight. He left early in a frenzy after a phone call, muttering something about his mom's nurse needing him. Offering comfort wasn't your strongest suit, so you bid him luck and made a mental note to bring him his favorite coffee during work later in hopes to cheer him up.

At the same time you were plating what felt like your dozenth chicken piccata of the week, soft footsteps approached the kitchen. As soon as the timer went off behind you, you whipped around and hit the top, a harsh exhale and wipe of your forehead following the silence. You felt proud, plating and finishing your dish in record time without any hiccups.

A soft chuckle brought you out of your stupor, head snapping up to meet bright blue eyes from across the kitchen. There stood Carmy with his unruly curls, white tee and brown jacket he was beginning to pull off. In place of his usual stoic face was an amused expression, clearly not expecting to see someone in the kitchen at this hour.

You froze at the sight of him, but his soft smile eased your shoulders a bit. “Smells good.” Carmy said as if it was the most casual thing, hanging his jacket by the lapels on a hook. He sat on the bench, beginning to change his shoes into nonslip ones.

Stuttering, your cheeks turned pink. “O-oh, uhhh, thanks.”

“You’re here early.” He said back, standing now and readying to tug on his apron.

Brows furrowed, you looked above him to glance at the kitchen clock. Big red numbers read 6:15 AM and your brows raised in shock. Before you had a chance to respond, he walked closer, beginning to talk again. “I’ve noticed you and Marcus are always here before anyone else.”

You shrugged, nervous smile gracing your lips as they upturned slightly. “Ah, yeah. We both wanted to practice. Y’know, catch up with everyone else.” You explained. Conveniently, you decided to not mention the instances of spending the night, figuring it would be a little to embarrassing or earn you a talking to.

Carmy was now approaching the other side of the counter where you stood, hands tapping the steel. His little smug smile didn’t leave his lips as he nodded. “I also noticed a few things missing from our inventory.” His words were clearly teasing, but they made your face run pale.

��Fuck, I'm sorry, Chef. Take it from my paycheck, please—I didn’t even consider—“ The rambling was embarrassing, and his head shake cut you off.

“No, stop, Y/N. I'm teasing you.” Carmy laughed softly with a small smile, clearly endeared. The use of your name made you bashful.

A beat of silence followed, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. Carmy glanced behind you at the dish that laid perfectly plated, motioning to it with his hands. “Let’s see if your hard work is paying off.”

Blinking in surprise, you obediently nodded and turned to grab the dish. Sliding it in front of him, you gathered a fork and knife. Carmy grasped the utensils with a ‘thank you’, fingers brushing yours. It didn’t take long for the chef to dig in, eyes immediately closing once the first bite hit his taste buds.

“So.. what do you think?” You plucked up the courage to ask after he swallowed.

Carmy looked up at you, lips curling upwards and a proud look dawning his features. “Great, as usual.”

Usually those words would make you excited, but Carmy had a habit of complimenting your dishes before declaring how they weren’t good enough just yet. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as he took another bite and savored the taste. “What should I change?” You asked, straightening your back in preparation for the inevitable criticism.

Humming, Carmy shook his head, the same amused look as before coming back. “Nothing, Chef. It’s perfect.” He said firmly. Those words made your breath leave your lungs, hands becoming clammy, and before you knew it you were grinning.

“Really?” You asked, not able to keep your excitement together.

Carmy let out a full laugh at that. “Really.” He confirmed.

You clapped your hands together before covering your face, hiding the grin as best you could. It had been awhile since you felt so elated due to cooking, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You felt like the whole month of dedicating your time to cooking was culminating to this moment. Carmen watched you with soft eyes, taking in how happy his words made you. You turned back to him, giving up hiding how ecstatic you were. “I braised it differently this time, could you tell? Well, obviously you could if it’s good this time.” You rambled on, a bit of a giggle in your voice.

“It’s always this good, Y/N.” Carmy suddenly said. His words had you pausing, tilting your head playfully. Hand trailing along the counter, he rounded it to stand next to you.

"What do you mean?" You asked, smile falling a bit. The man's words echoed in your head and you looked around the room as if to try and find meaning from his statement. Surely he didn't have you remake the dish for no reason, right? But Carmy's strong posture and raised brows, waiting for you to figure it out yourself, made you think that's exactly what he did. Sobering up, you scoffed and crossed your arms as you sent him a look. "Are you serious? This whole time..." You trailed off.

"Yes, this whole time." He said, leaning on the counter with one hand, eyes not leaving you. "I needed you to bust your ass, Chef. I knew you needed the practice, so I gave you the motive." Carmy explained. The scrunch of your nose made his chest hum with something warm, akin to looking at a kicked puppy that he wanted to scoop up and reassure. Guilt washed over him a little bit as he feared he was acting more and more like his old Chef, but he pushed those feelings down as best he could. He did this for the right reasons, unlike that dickhead in New York did to him. There was no berating and preying on insecurities, just some tough love.

Sighing, you were torn between being angry and feeling grateful that Carmy saw this potential in you. You didn't know what to say, so you blurted out exactly how you felt. "I'm embarrassed."

Carmy frowned, ducking his head to catch your eyes where you looked down a bit. "Why are you embarrassed?" His voice was soft, tiptoeing as to not make you more upset.

Allowing him to meet your eyes, you curled into yourself at the attention. "Because I've made a fool of myself these past few months." You murmured, spilling your guts to your new boss for some reason that you didn't know. Maybe it was the quiet kitchen, or the sudden defeat you felt, but your mouth was faster than your mind.

A small 'no, no, no' left Carmy and he shook his head, reaching a hand out to place on your shoulder. "Don't be. I came in and turned shit upside down, it just took you a bit more practice to get the hang of things." His hand started to rub your arm comfortingly, leaving heat where he touched. You knew this must have been a form of an apology in his own way. The words didn't come easy to Carmen, but he tried to convey it the best he could.

Leaning forward, Carmy mustered his best stern expression, wanting to keep your gaze so you couldn't look away and distract yourself from his next words. Your breath caught in your throat, not used to this proximity. "I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself too."

Heat encapsulated your cheeks and you nodded, spurring him to nod as well. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

As soon as Carmy saw your shy smile he gave one right back to you. Still close, he radiated heat that made it all the more difficult to calm the butterflies growing in your stomach. Eyes never leaving each other's, the air grew tense as the dust settled. Unlike the usual sandwich smell, an aroma of a clean linen scent came off of him as you realized he must have showered before coming here. Carmy never would admit it, but your perfume filled the air for him, making him linger longer than he should have. The blink of your stare looking up at him made Carmy's chest tighten, and he immediately pulled himself out of whatever trance he was in.

Clearing his throat, Carmy let go of your shoulder and backed up a bit. "No more all-nighter's here. Okay, Chef?" He tried to seem playful to rid himself of awkwardness and whatever that just was.

Mouth falling open, you gaped at him. "How did you know?!"

Hands up in surrender, Carmy just shrugged. "A Chef never tells his secrets," He began, heading over to the drying rack to busy himself, playfully adding, "And someone kept leaving the spare key out, so I figured." The smirk he sent you made you grin and roll your eyes.

Carmy would never tell you he knew because that's what he used to do. Before he got the hang of things in his earlier days as a chef, late nights in the restaurant kitchen and a half hour of sleep was the norm for him. As you began cleaning up your work the chef's gaze lingered on you, blue eyes studying your form with a thoughtful look. Carmy shook his head, smiling to himself and starting his work. He reckoned he saw himself in you more than ever.

[moonstruckme]

not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞

Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33

cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it. 

So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups. 

“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.” 

You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.

“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage. 

“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”

James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.” 

You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach. 

Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you. 

True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.” 

Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy. 

“I know,” you say. 

Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary. 

“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble. 

You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.” 

“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?” 

It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin. 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.” 

[lilacmingi]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Hufflepuff!Yunho x Hufflepuff!fem reader

Word count: 4,968

Note: Seems kinda silly sharing this one considering its March lol but when I was writing these Hogwarts AU imagines, they were being posted around November/December 2022 and I felt bad for not having anything festive written so I made this one take place around Christmastime to add some festive flair. Hopefully you guys can still enjoy it, even in March haha

"You need to dress warmly, Y/n. It's getting colder these days." Yunho tugged your scarf around your neck, making sure you were all bundled up.

You merely chuckled, amused at how much he cares for you.

"I'll be fine." You assured him.

"We have to walk all the way to the greenhouse for herbology. You should stay warm."

You gave him a reluctant smile, allowing him to adjust your scarf to where it would cover your chin.

"Okay." He gave a small nod of approval before linking arms with you. "Let's go. Don't wanna be late."

Leaving the warm corridors of the school, you stepped out into the chilly air. It was nearing the end of autumn and would soon be winter, though based on the bitter temperature outside it felt like the season had already arrived. You and your fellow housemate trekked across the school grounds, stepping over leaves that had long fallen off the trees, their color now a dull brown. The holidays were just around the corner and Hogwarts had rolled out the Christmas decorations, decking the entire school out in holiday cheer, the colorful array of twinkling ornaments and other baubles giving the castle a cozy feel. The Great Hall was the most beautiful with large Christmas trees throughout the room, holly and ribbons hanging along the ceiling, all topped off with white snow falling from above, the magical icy clusters not feeling cold at all.

The greenhouse came into view, you and Yunho hurrying over desperate to get inside and out of the chilly air.

"Good afternoon." Professor Sprout greeted you with her usual warm smile, her jovial personality shining through as always.

"Afternoon." You greeted, making your way further into the greenhouse, taking your place at the long table that stretched along the length of the greenhouse.

You and Yunho began unpacking your supplies, your fingers brushing against his by accident.

"Your hands are freezing." He commented, grabbing them with his larger ones.

A faint heat creeped onto your cheeks as he squeezed your icy palms between his, warming them a little. You were so focused on him, you didn't notice the other students filing in the greenhouse, preparing for class.

"Alright. Now that everyone's here let's get started." Professor Sprout spoke up, causing Yunho to release your hands.

You exchanged sheepish glances before the both of you turned your eyes away out of embarrassment.

"Since Christmas is approaching, I thought it would be fit for us to study mistletoe. As you all know, this parasitic plant is used for decoration, but you can also use it for antidotes for the forgetfulness potion and common poisons."

"Ha. Mistletoe." You chuckled softly. "How festive."

Professor Sprout proceeded to explain more facts about the plant, allowing everyone to examine the white berries on the herbage, cutting them open and grinding them for potions.

The greenhouse, though slightly warmer than the chilly outdoor air, didn't offer much heat for your cold fingertips. Suddenly you missed the warmth of Yunho's hands, wishing he could hold them one more time.

Professor Sprout filled the silence in the greenhouse by giving a brief history lesson on mistletoe, talking about how it was used as a holiday decoration in the 1700s, then she proceeded explain how wizards used it for potions, though at that point you started zoning out.

Her voice became mere background noise as your eyes lingered on Yunho, who was closely examining the leaves on his plant which was held between his slender fingers.

By some miracle, you managed to pull it together long enough to make it through class.

You rubbed your hands together on the trek back to the school, tugging your scarf up to cover your nose and shield it from the chilly gusts of wind that fiercely hit your cheeks.

Once back inside Hogwarts, you let the heat from the torches lining the hall to warm you up a little. Yunho noticed the way you rubbed your hands together, wiggling your fingers around a bit.

"Here." Yunho held his hands out to you palms up.

You placed your smaller hands in his and allowed him to warm them the best he could, though his fingers were pretty cold as well, but they were warmer than yours. Plus, you can't possibly pass up the opportunity to have his hands holding onto yours.

You chuckled softly at Yunho's appearance, noticing a tint of pink on the tip of his nose.

"What?" He asked amusedly.

"Your nose is pink."

"It's freezing too. Wanna feel it?" He teased, leaning in closely preparing to press his nose against your cheek. You were quick to pull away, laughing at him.

"Come on. Let's go to the dining hall and see if we can get some hot chocolate before our next class." He stated.

"That would be fantastic."

The both of you went straight to the Great Hall where thankfully you were able to get a hot beverage to warm you up, the drink doing wonders for you.

"This was a good call." You sighed contently, grateful that your friend had suggested the idea. "I needed something that would warm me up quickly."

He hummed in agreement, his face covered by the mug as he gulped down the chocolate beverage. Once he set the cup down, a small amount of whipped cream dotted the tip of his nose as well as his top lip, the sight making you giggle.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" He asked, knowing there was whipped topping on him.

"Come here." You beckoned, grabbing a napkin and cleaning his face.

Yunho's heart fluttered at your simple yet very effective actions. His eyes lingered on your face, taking in all your beautiful details, from your lashes to your soft-looking lips, his mind beginning to wander as he imagined what it would feel like to kiss them.

"Yunho?"

He blinked himself from his daze, humming in response.

"You zoned out. I asked if you were ready to go. We've got just enough time to get to class."

"Oh. Yeah I'm ready."

It was early morning, right around breakfast time and you were sat in front of the fireplace in the Hufflepuff common room with a letter in your hands and a heavy feeling in your chest.

The sound of feet shuffling along the floor above could be heard over the crackling fire before you, Yunho's voice following after.

"Oh, you got something from your parents?" He observed.

"Yeah." You sighed as he descended the stairs, taking a seat beside you.

"Must've been important if it was delivered straight to the dormitory."

"It was."

Based on your discouraged tone and small frown, whatever news you got wasn't good.

"What's wrong?"

"It's a letter from my parents. They work for the Ministry of Magic so they're really busy and it seems they're not going to be home much. Looks like I'm going to be staying here for Christmas."

Yunho frowned. He hated seeing you upset, even more so he hated that you would be stuck at Hogwarts over Christmas break instead of spending it with your family.

"Come here." He beckoned softly, pulling you into a hug, which you happily accepted.

His hugs were always the best. He was bigger than you, so being in his embrace always felt nice, warm, even safe. You've always joked that his hugs were magical because they always seemed to melt your problems away whenever you were upset about something.

Yunho rubbed your back soothingly, allowing you to stay in his arms for as long as you needed.

If you were forced to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas break, he would stay with you.

Or maybe...

He let out a sudden gasp as a lightbulb went off in his head, making him pull back.

"Why don't you spend Christmas with me and my family?"

You took in a quick breath at his sudden proposition, looking at him with a shocked expression. At your response, or lack thereof, Yunho continued.

"You can send an owl back to your parents and let them know you're going to spend Christmas with me."

You continued to sit there, your mind processing everything.

Spending Christmas with Yunho?

The idea sounded great, honestly. You'd be able to spend the entire break with your crush. What more could you ask for?

Judging by the hopeful expression on his face and the expectant gleam in his eyes, he really wanted you to accept his offer, so you did.

When Christmas break rolled around, you found yourself boarding the Hogwarts Express with Yunho and a suitcase of clothes and other necessities for your visit.

The both of you made your way into one of the roomettes, sliding the door closed behind you before moving to sit on one of the benches.

"Sit next to me, Y/n." Yunho patted the spot next to him.

Softly smiling, you moved across to Yunho's bench, seating yourself beside him.

"I haven't seen your parents in years." You commented.

"I'm sure they're excited to see you, especially mom. She asks about you a lot."

"She does?"

He nodded.

The train departed from the station a few minutes later, rolling into motion. You watched as the school got smaller and smaller the further away you got. Your heart started to beat a little faster at the thought of being with Yunho for two weeks at his home.

The snack trolley rolled by not too long into the ride making the Hufflepuff beside you perk up, an excited gasp leaving him.

"Y/n, do you want something?" He asked.

"Yes, please."

Yunho asked the lady pushing the cart for your favorite candy along with some of his favorites before she went on to the next roomette. It didn't take long at all for the both of you to tear into the sweets, enjoying them as you watched the trees and valleys pass by.

An hour into the train ride, you felt your eyelids begin to droop as a feeling of drowsiness slowly washed over you. Not wanting to fall asleep, you turned your attention to the view out the window and started watching the scenery, a vast field with mountains in the distance, each one a different size. Unfortunately, that didn't do any good and you ended up allowing yourself to rest your eyes for a moment, which of course resulted in you falling asleep.

Yunho's gaze was glued to the landscape outside when he felt a weight on his shoulder. Upon glancing over, he found you sound asleep, your body slumped over on him, head resting on his shoulder.

A soft smile of adoration tugged at his lips as he allowed his gaze to linger on you for a few moments, taking in your features up close. It was only when you stirred slightly that he averted his gaze back to the view outside, his cheeks slightly warm.

When he didn’t feel you move, he peeked over at you once more as soft breaths pushed past your slightly parted lips.

"Y/n. We're here."

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, nuzzling your face into whatever you were resting on.

A deep chuckle sounded afterwards making you peel your eyes open.

Yunho was gazing down at you, eyes gleaming with amusement. It was then that you realized you'd fallen asleep on him, your head resting on his chest. This realization caused you to push yourself off him in a rush.

He only laughed, standing up from his seat.

"I'm sorry." You apologized.

"You seemed to be sleeping well, so I didn't wake you." He responded, offering you his hand. "Come on."

After a short taxi ride, you arrived at your destination, welcomed by strings of beautiful multicolored lights strung along the eaves of the house, the sight giving you a warm feeling in your chest.

You stepped into Yunho's cozy abode, the warmth from inside brushing against your cool cheeks, the smell of gingerbread and cinnamon reaching your senses.

"Come in, come in." Yunho's mom beckoned, ushering both of you inside. "It's freezing out."

Christmas music played softly throughout the home as you removed your scarf, your eyes roaming the house, taking in your surroundings. The feeling of someone tugging on your coat grabbed your attention, it was Yunho. You thanked him quietly, shrugging off the thick jacket and allowing him to hang it on the coat rack by the door.

"My Yunho, come here." His mom cooed, pulling him into a tight hug. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, mom."

After pulling away, she turned to you with a warm smile. "Y/n."

"Hello." You greeted.

"I haven't seen you since you and Yunho were in fourth year." She gushed. "You've grown into such a beautiful young lady."

You muttered a shy thank you before she escorted the both of you into the living room, going on about how excited she was that you'd be joining them during Christmas break and how she had prepared snacks for your arrival. Sitting on the coffee table in the living room was a plate of small sandwiches, crackers, and sliced fruit along with two glasses of water.

"Sorry. She gets enthusiastic when we have guests." Yunho murmured, cheeks tinged pink.

"It's fine. It's actually really nice. I missed her hospitality."

Just then, the front door swung open and Yunho's father walked in, shrugging off his jacket.

"Are they here yet?" He inquired before glancing into the living room where you and Yunho were seated on the couch. "Ah. I missed the welcome party."

"We just got in." Yunho informed him. "You didn't miss much."

"Good, good." His father nodded, making his way over to greet both of you, asking how classes were and how you'd been—just the usual small talk. He then grabbed one of the tiny sandwiches Yunho's mom had made.

At that moment, she entered the room and caught him in the act, immediately scolding him.

"Those are for Y/n and Yunho."

"Alright. Sorry." He chuckled, heading towards the kitchen.

"Y/n, why don't I take your bags to your room?" Yunho's mom offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"No, no, I insist. You're our guest."

You didn't have time to protest as she grabbed your bag as well as Yunho's and left the room.

After resting for a moment and finishing the finger foods that were prepared, Yunho's mom offered to show you where you'd be sleeping during your visit. Yunho wanted to unpack his things, so he got up and followed you and his mom down the hall, not expecting her to come to a stop at his bedroom.

"You'll have to share with Yunho. I hope you don't mind." She mentioned, opening the bedroom door. "Don't worry, though. I've set up a mattress on the floor so everything should be fine."

"I thought we had a spare bedroom." Yunho spoke up hastily.

"Oh, I've been using it as a storage room."

Yunho's face got hot at the thought of sharing a room with you, but at the same time it was a dream come true. Back at Hogwarts the boys and girls dorms are separated; the girls' dormitory is charmed so no boys can enter, though it's not the same for the boys' dorm, which is odd—but you've never stayed overnight with him before, even at school, so this would be a whole new experience.

Your palms started to get a bit sweaty as you took in the information you were just given, your slightly wide eyes staring at the sight before you. Alongside Yunho's bed was a small, inflatable mattress with a few blankets and pillows on it. While it did look comfortable, it was directly beside the place where Yunho slept. Judging by the giddiness in his mom's voice, she was more than okay with the both of you sharing a room.

"Well, I'll let you two get settled." She spoke up and excused herself.

As soon as she was out of the room, Yunho's head dropped as he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." You waved him off.

You and Yunho have been friends for years, sharing a room shouldn't be weird... it only feels that way because of your feelings for him.

"I'm gonna unpack. You can make yourself comfortable."

Yunho moved across the room to his bed where his suitcase laid, unzipping the beg before removing items from it. You started to do the same, taking a seat on the blow up mattress in the floor, taking out your toiletry bag.

"You can put that in the bathroom across the hall." Yunho mentioned. "As for clothes, you can leave them in your suitcase or I can clean out a drawer for you to store them in."

"It's fine. I can just leave them in here." You responded, not wanting Yunho to go to the extra trouble.

Once settled, the both of you were called into the kitchen to have dinner, which smelled so good. It had been a while since you had a home-cooked meal. Though, Hogwarts had exceptional food, there's something different about having something made at home.

"You really went all out." You commented, your mouth watering at the spread before you.

"Of course. It's Christmas, plus we have a special guest. It's the least I could do." Yunho's mom smiled warmly, pouring everyone a drink.

After a nice meal, you spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV with Yunho and his parents. Turns out they found amusement in muggle television programs and enjoyed watching them. You unexpectedly got hooked on a particular show, the ups and downs of the plot pulling you in immediately.

After watching a few episodes, you and Yunho decided to get ready for bed and settle in for the night.

You watched in mild amusement as Yunho arranged his pillows in a particular order, one lying flat in the middle and one propped up on the bed frame on either side. A chuckle slipped from you by accident causing the tall boy to turn, eyeing you.

"Sorry." You apologized. "I didn't know you had a system going."

"I do. My bed fits me well so I arrange my pillows like this, but in beds that are shorter where my feet stick out, I arrange them like this." He began shuffling the pillows around, moving the ones that were resting on the bed frame flat on the mattress lying vertically, giving him somewhat of a barrier on either side of his main pillow.

"I have to do this at Hogwarts since the beds are smaller." He mentioned.

It may be silly, but his specific pillow arrangements were extremely endearing to you. The way he had a whole system figured out based on the size of the bed was too cute.

He didn't seem to notice your love-filled gaze as he fluffed his main pillow, shimmying underneath the covers.

"Are you settled in?" He asked.

"Mhm." You hummed.

Yunho raised his wand in the air, using it to turn the lights out before snuggling down into his bed.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, Yunho."

Getting to sleep proved to be a bit harder than you had originally thought. You were hyperaware of Yunho sleeping so close to you and that prevented you from getting relaxed enough to rest.

It's not a big deal, Y/n. You told yourself. Yunho is your best friend. You've known him for years. There's no reason to be nervous.

Minutes passed and you tried different positions, lying on your back, your left side, then your right side. Nothing was working.

Movement on the bed caught your attention as Yunho's head popped up, peeking down at you.

"If you're not comfortable, we can switch spots." He offered. "If it's me you're uncomfortable with I can sleep on the couch and you can have my bed."

The thought of sleeping in Yunho's bed under sheets that probably smelled like him drove you crazy, but the inflatable mattress was just fine, plus you didn't want to take Yunho's bed from him.

"I'm good." You assured him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. This is fine."

"Well, the offer is still there if you change your mind."

You murmured a thank you before rolling over, finally getting comfortable enough to go to sleep.

You woke up the next morning to Yunho shaking you awake.

"What is it?" You groaned.

"Get up. Hurry!" He pulled you to your feet, your knees nearly buckling, not used to all the sudden movement right after waking up.

Yunho wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you downstairs to the living room window.

"Check it out." Yunho gawked as he gazed out the glass pane.

"Wow." You gaped at the amount of snow that had blanketed the front lawn, the sight instantly waking you up.

"Oh, how pretty." Yunho's mom marveled. "You two should go outside and enjoy it."

The both of you exchanged glances, but before either of you could speak, Yunho's mom did.

"Go on." She gently ushered the both of you towards your room, telling you to bundle up. "I'll start on breakfast and you two go have some fun."

You had no choice but to do as she asked, going right back to Yunho's room.

"I'm so glad I packed warm clothes." You commented, pulling out a sweater and thick pants.

After layering up and putting on your coat and house scarf, you stepped outside hearing the many inches of snow crunch beneath your boots.

"That's one way to wake you up in the mornings." Yunho chuckled, his breaths coming out in puffs due to the frigid air.

"That's for sure." You shivered slightly, the icy weather flushing out the last remnants of sleep from your body.

"Come on." Yunho's gloved hand grabbed yours, tugging you out into the yard. "We should build a snowman."

"With all this snow, we could built three snowmen."

Yunho retrieved his wand from the inside of his jacket with a smirk. "You wanna try it?"

A knowing grin spread across your face as you pulled out your wand. "Let's do it."

With a simple locomotion charm, the both of you had large spheres of snow rolling across the lawn, getting bigger and bigger.

"Bring that one over here." Yunho pointed. "We'll use that for the base."

You nodded, moving your snowball to its designated spot as Yunho stacked his on top, using his wand to place the last and smallest sphere on top. In no time, you had three perfect snowmen built in front of the house.

Using your wands, the both of you gathered sticks and rocks to use for the arms and face for each snowman, placing them accordingly.

"These looks great." You beamed. "It's been  so long since I've done this. I feel like a kid again."

"Me too." He huffed out a laugh. "You think breakfast is ready?"

"I hope so. I'm starving."

"Come on." Yunho held out his hand. "Let's go."

Later that night, the air inside the house was cooler than normal thanks to the piles of snow outside. The double layer of blankets wasn't doing much to keep you warm, no matter how much you curled up or how high they were bunched around your neck.

"Are you cold?" Yunho asked.

You assumed he was asleep, so his voice startled you a bit.

"Just a little." You responded.

"Would you like to sleep up here? It's warmer when you're not close to the floor."

"I don't know. You've got that pillow fort up there, I don't think there's any room for me." You teased.

"I can always make room."

You were so desperate to get warm and Yunho's offer was very appealing, so you agreed.

Yunho shuffled around, adjusting his pillows as you got up off the inflatable mattress and joined him in the bed, which was noticeably warmer than your makeshift one on the floor.

You let out a content sigh, tugging the covers up over you.

"Better?" Yunho asked.

"Much."

At this point, the fact that you were sharing a bed with Yunho didn't phase you, in fact, it was the last thing on your mind. You were just grateful to be warm. Yunho shuffled a bit, giving you some extra space before rolling onto his side, his back facing you.

"This is so much nicer than that air mattress." You commented blissfully.

"I imagine it is."

"You don't have to be so far away." You told him, noticing the distance between the both of you.

"I just wanna make sure you're comfortable."

"I am. Come on." You tugged at the back of his pajama top, making him scoot towards you.

He kept his back facing you, too nervous to turn around. Yunho felt bad that you were cold and simply wanted to help out, but now that you were right beside him, things were starting to sink in.

"Goodnight." You murmured sleepily.

"Goodnight."

It was only when he was sure you were asleep that he turned around. Your cheek was squished against the pillow as small snores moved past your parted lips. His hand reached out towards your face, his slender fingers barely ghosting over your cheek. Yunho found himself unconsciously moving forward, his gaze focused on your lips. Before he could get too close, he came to his senses and pulled away, choosing to go to sleep.

It was finally Christmas Eve and things were in full swing at the Jeong household. Yunho's dad has just placed extra logs in the fireplace while his mom laid out all the sweet treats she had baked, going on about playing some board games later. Presents had been wrapped and placed neatly underneath the tree, each present with a different decorative wrapping.

"There's supposed to be some muggle

Christmas specials on tonight." Yunho's dad mentioned. "We should watch some."

"That'll be fun." You agreed.

"Oh, darn." You heard Yunho's mom mutter.

"Is everything okay?" You inquired, poking your head into the kitchen.

"I'm out of eggs." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "The store closes in half an hour. I need to go."

You and Yunho watched from the living room doorway as she hurriedly slipped on her coat, calling for his dad to come with her.

"You two will be alright staying here by yourselves for a little while, right?"

You both nodded.

With that, she pulled out her wand, both she and Yunho's dad apparating in the blink of an eye.

"I can't wait to get my apparition license." You commented.

"Me too. It'll be so convenient." Yunho agreed.

Letting out a sigh, you turned to face him.

"So, what should we do?"

Your question went unheard and unanswered by Yunho who was more occupied with something above you.

"Ah." Yunho glanced up with rosy cheeks.

Following his gaze, you spotted a small bundle of mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorframe, sucking in a deep breath at the sight.

"I'm sorry." He muttered embarrassedly. "My mom must've put that there."

The tips of his ears were a deep shade of pink while his cheeks were almost matching.

"It's okay." You shrugged it off, acting as if it wasn't a big deal to help Yunho feel a little more at ease even though you were internally freaking out just like he was.

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you weighed your options. Either you could walk away and pretend this didn't happen, noting to avoid the mistletoe for the rest of your visit, or you could try and kiss Yunho and see what happens.

Before you could make a decision, he started to lean in closer, your breath catching in your throat.

Yunho's lips met yours, pressing softly as if to test the waters. Though there wasn't much force or pressure to the kiss, you could feel the pliant softness of his lips as they dragged slowly against yours before he pulled away, the lack of contact leaving you wanting more. Without hesitation, you leaned forward, reconnecting your lips. The action clearly caught Yunho off guard but he was quick to respond, his arms sliding around your waist pulling you into his broad chest.

Your mind clouded over immediately, the feeling of his mouth on yours was almost too much to handle, but still you wanted more.

You got your wish, because it was at that moment Yunho stepped forward, pressing your back against the frame of the walkway as he began kissing you more feverishly.

Your fingers found purchase in his dark tresses, tugging at his hair. He let out a grunt in response, pressing closer to you.

"Yunho." You murmured against his lips.

He pulled away for a moment, gazing drunkenly at you with half-lidded eyes.

"I like you a lot." You confessed breathlessly. "I have for along time."

"Me too." He sighed, leaning in to capture your lips with his once again.

Your leg wrapped around his torso, your fingers grabbing at the fabric of his sweater.

Yunho pulled away again, making you frown slightly at the loss of contact.

"You're so pretty." He stroked your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered closed as you sighed out his name.

"I'm not sure how long your mom will be gone, maybe we should go somewhere else." You suggested.

"Say no more." Yunho began tugging you along through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom.

The both of you collapsed onto his bed with a grunt.

"I think this was my mom's plan all along." He admitted.

"Me too. Maybe we should thank her." You chuckled.

"Maybe we should." He grinned, diving in for another breathtaking kiss.

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

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[upsidedownwithsteve]

A Couple Days In (I Call You Baby) CH2.

Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader [6.8K] 18+ the two night stand au no one asked for, or, the fic where you meet steve on a dating app and then a snowstorm ensures you can’t sneak out the next morning.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

“Hey, wanna get high?”

It was an easy question to say yes to, to be able to do something other than sit around and watch the snow fall, something to break the tension, ease the silence that was still a little uncomfortable. It was even easier when Steve looked at you like that, the same way he had the night before when you first answered the call from him, all messy hair and flushed cheeks, soft eyes and a smile that told you that you made him as nervous as he made you. 

So you nodded and felt a little giddy when he sparked up a joint, trying not to think about how it had been slotted between his lips when you placed it between yours. Besides, his mouth had been in more intimate places the night before… but you weren’t supposed to talk about that. 

So you shared the smoke until the joint burned down to the end, a stubbed out roach on a makeshift ashtray and when the sky outside dulled to an inky violet, you found yourself on Steve's living room floor. The boy had made quick work of gathering up every blanket and sheet he could find, the coffee table moved in favour of a fort that stood proud in the middle of the room. The weed had hit hard when he turned off the lights, letting the old nineties style disco ball illuminate the space instead. It twisted slowly, pink and purple and peach and green, each coloured sphere dancing off the white sheets and walls, making Steve’s skin turn shades of cotton candy and apricot.   

You’d found a frozen pizza in the bottom of his freezer, grimaced and brushed off most of the ice before shoving it in the oven as Steve threw all the snacks he could find into the fort, chips and cookies and some sour patch kids lost amongst the pillows. You ate slices of pepperoni in agreeable silence, The Goonies playing faintly in the background and when dinner was done and the high started to settle, you found yourself laying closer to the boy, shoulder to shoulder on the floor. 

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked, looking at you from the side of his eyes, curious and careful. “If you promise not to yell at me.”

“I don’t make promises with boys,” you said airily, grinning when Steve snorted. “But I won’t resort to violence, if that makes you feel better.”

“Barely,” he shot back but he rolled onto his stomach anyway, bit the head off of a red sour patch and kept his gaze on you. “But I’ll risk it. Why were you looking for a hookup? Last night. Like, why were you on that stupid site.”

“Why were you?”

Steve grinned. “I asked you first.”

Did you tell him? Did you tell him the truth? Would you sound pathetic, would you sound sad? Would you tell this boy, this stranger, that you’d once been happy and with your own place, another boy to share it with, that white picket fence kinda dream. Would you tell him you had a man, who wore a suit and tie to work, who promised you a ring and a baby and anything else you wanted, would you tell him that you found him with another girl when you came home too early one day, that he was less than sorry and told you that he just didn’t feel the same, that he was going to confess to you eventually. 

How could you tell him that? How could you tell that story without crying?

So you hoped your eyes didn’t turn glassy as you kept Steve’s gaze and shrugged, fingers playing nervously with the tassels on the end of a blanket. “What’s that thing they say? ‘You gotta get back on the horse’ or something?” You swallowed, throat too tight. “I had to get back on the horse.”

Steve stared, eyes widening slightly in realisation and he nodded, slow, thoughtful. Silence crept in, the movie long over and the credits rolling silently, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound. And then Steve knocked a hand against yours and said, “for what it’s worth, the guy sounds like an idiot. His loss, y’know?”

You grinned despite your confusion, nose scrunched and you stole a piece of candy from the bowl the boy had monopolised. “You don’t even know what he did.”

Steve hummed and shook his head, not wanting to hear your counter argument. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve got this look in your eye and— and, well, I can just tell, okay? He’s probably the world's biggest douche and he doesn’t deserve you.”

You were speechless, lips parted, tongue fizzing with leftover sugar and still staring at Steve. This guy you met online, a stranger. Except not really. 

“You didn’t deserve that.” Steve finished, he was staring at the popcorn, cheeks a little pink. “Whatever it was… that he did. You didn’t.”

Your socked foot met his, toes pushed to his, the closest you’d been since the night before. He stared at where you touched him, throat bobbing and you sniffed before whispering a small, ‘thanks.’ 

Steve shrugged again, embarrassed and brushing it off but his words clung to you in a way that was more important than you realised. When you’d told your mom about your ex, she’d been sympathetic but she seemed more concerned about you moving back in with a friend, having a roommate instead of a mortgage and still no ring on your finger. 

‘Maybe you weren’t giving him what he needed, hon,” she’d tried to justify. ‘You’re always so busy at work, you know. Men need cared for, they like to come home and have their dinner on the table and—’

You’d hung up the call without listening to it anymore. 

“Even though I’m a raging dragon?” You asked Steve, your knowing smile lightening the mood. 

You laughed when the boy’s cheeks burned, the tips of his ears just as red and he sat up in defence, hands held out placatingly. “Hey, c’mon now. You weren’t supposed to hear that—”

“So that makes it okay?” You squealed, laughing whilst trying to act offended. You batted at Steve’s hands when he tried to steal back the sour patch kids. “No, they’re mine now. Penance for your awful honesty.”

“—if you let me talk,” Steve grumbled but he was smiling too and god, it was a pretty sight. “You’ll know that I didn’t mean it. Well I did, a little. You were scary.”

You snorted. 

“But hot,” Steve added on, looking at you from under his lashes, gaze lowered and he took a second to see how you’d take such a compliment. You raised your brows, hiding a smile with twisted lips. “Y’know, in that ‘she’s yelling but I’m turned on’ kinda way?”

You laughed, a bright burst of sound that made Steve grin and you shook your head, “god, boy’s are easy, huh?”

“We’re mere creatures, honestly,” Steve smiled and he didn’t seem to care about his admittance. Or the fact you’d both promised not to talk about the fact you had slept with each other, ‘cause then he said: “M’sorry I couldn’t you know, be a… good horse to get back onto.”

Were you burning? You felt like you were burning. You felt like you were on fire. You squirmed, chugging down the rest of your sofa before answering. “Steve, no, don’t, it wasn’t— I was being dramatic— and a bitch—”

“Did you come?” 

You choked, face flushed and you wanted to placate him, ‘cause he’d fed you all day and you were in a pair of his too big socks ‘cause you’d complained about having cold feet but god, you couldn’t lie. 

“Jesus, blunt much?” You tried to stall but Steve narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Like you were aiming for soft and sweet this morning? C’mon, tell me the truth. Was I that bad? I can handle it.”

You chewed at your bottom lip, thinking carefully and you couldn’t help the breath of laughter that left you. “You can’t handle it,” you shrugged. “It’s okay though, no boy could. Your egos are too precious.”

“That’s not true,” Steve replied, and he nudged at your side, his hand grazing over the sort of your hip and you wanted to squirm. “Look at it this way, once the weather stops being so fucking dramatic, you’re gone, right?”

“Like the wind,” you nodded sagely. 

“So the chance of us seeing each other again, is like what, slim to none?”

“A zero,” you confirmed. 

Steve smiled and it was nice, pretty, a slow stretch that made him look like he was up to know good and it reminded you of the night before, after you’d shed your coat and clinked your beer against his, right before he’d kissed you against the kitchen counter. 

“So we’ve been given a rare opportunity here, sweetheart,” he sat up, gesturing between the two of you, his candy forgotten about. “Let’s get brutal. You tell me what I need to do to improve, you know, sexually, and I’ll hand out some pointers too.”

“Oh, I need pointers?” You laughed, humourless, eyebrows raised as you say up too, your head brushing the peak of the fort. Mirth glittered in the boy’s eyes and he shrugged, too causal.

“You think you’re some sort of sex god?” Steve grinned and you burned, embarrassed at his accusation.

“What? No! At least you got off!”

Steve sprang to his knees, victorious, a finger pointed accusingly at you. “Ha! See! You didn’t come, you totally faked it. You lying… liar.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mature.”

“Listen,” he took your hand, hesitant at first, but once you didn’t pull away, he tugged you a little closer, fingers tangling. “Hear me out. Don’t you wanna know? Like, a full Amazon style review of your sexual prowess. Cons, star rating, would I recommend you to a friend?”

You scoffed, unable to hold in your laughter, but you used your free hand to bat at his shoulder anyway. “You’re a pig,” you told him. 

“I know, you told me already,” Steve reminded you and he grinned, all boyish and teasing. Steve tan his thumb over your knuckles, fingertips scratching nicely against your palm. He was flirting. He was fucking flirting. “C’mon, tell me how to find some truffles.”

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of him as he sat on his sofa, gaze focused on you as you paced in front of the TV. The snow was still falling outside, mounds of it climbing up the window as it settled on the sill, the whole world outside turning white. 

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together. “This would be so much easier if I had, like, a PowerPoint.”

Steve stared at you, deadpan. “You want ten minutes with my laptop?”

He was joking, but you hesitated. He said your name through a laugh, shaking his head. “No. You do not need a PowerPoint presentation, c’mon, lay it on me.”

You took a deep breath and started. 

“Right. So I didn’t actually have an orgasm last night and I know that hurts your male ego, but trust me, no one is more disappointed than me, okay?” You paused as Steve opened his mouth to retort but you interrupted with a sharp, “ah! Questions and comments at the end, please.”

Steve sunk back into the couch. 

“And it’s not because you were bad, alright? You were good! Like really good and it was pretty hot and honestly, I was close, like several times.” You stopped pacing to face him, head tilted to the side. “You remember what I said? What I might have told you that could have possibly helped you know that I was close?”

Steve sucked his teeth, bashful. “You might have said, ‘I’m close.’”

“Right! I did, didn’t I? And then you completely changed up what you were doing even though I very specifically said ‘don’t stop,’ so please, Steven, talk me through your thought process there.”

Steve gestured wildly to the air, at a loss. He shrugged, “ I dunno, I thought if I like, sped it up, or you know, did that little twisty thing with my fingers… kinda like a finishing move or something. WWE style, Tony Hawk Pro Skater, Mortal Kombat? You know— never mind. And don’t call me Steven, Jesus.”

“If a girl tells you she’s close, it’s because of what you’re currently doing. Like, exactly that,” you told him softly. “Don’t change it up, got it?”

Steve blinked as you stared at him, expression intense and he nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah. Yes ma’am.”

“Oh! And if a girl is trying to help herself out with some hand action?” You gestured vaguely at your crotch, cheeks on fire. “It’s not a personal attack, okay? Sex is a… sex is a team effort, yeah? We’re simply trying to make everyone feel good.”

Steve nodded again, lips pursed. “Noted. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually,” you said primly, ignoring the way Steve smirked. “I don’t know which freshman dweeb managed to convince every male that spelling the alphabet with their tongue is a good idea, but it’s not, okay? It kinda makes me feel like you’re learning braille, and that’s not sexy. Apart from that, sex with you is perfectly nice.”

“You done?” Steve asked again but he was still smiling, his hands tapping at the back of the couch. 

You nodded, gaze lowered ‘cause you weren’t sure how you managed to say such things to a boy you barely knew but fuck, if it didn’t feel good. 

“Good, my turn. Take a seat, sweetheart, and get out your notepad.”

You scowled, shoulder brushing Steve’s as you swapped places, throwing yourself down into the sofa. He grinned as he took centre stage, immediately launching into a speech that honestly wasn’t as scathing as you were scared it was going to be. 

“Lights,” he announced. “What is it with girls and wanting to do it with the lights off? I’ve already seen you, I think you’re hot, I wanna see more.” Steve’s eyes lit up in excitement, enthusiasm evident. “Now I know, you had some real cute underwear under those jeans, okay? Something lacy, real sexy, I’m sure of it, but I didn’t get to see them!”

You laughed at his crestfallen expression, his pout. 

“And that whole thing,” the boy gestured to his clothes. “You switched off the light and stripped yourself like Houdini, zero appreciation for the art.”

“The art?” You snorted, eyes on Steve’s and suddenly the air shifted. You watched him shrug and swallow hard, throat bobbing and he didn’t bother hiding the way his gaze travelled down your body and back up again. “What art?”

“Y’know,” he shuffled a little nervously, cheeks pink again. He gestured towards the sofa. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” he grinned at how you sounded so shocked. “C’mon, don’t act like you don’t know. You’re hot, sweetheart. Real pretty. Guys are nothin’ but visual creatures, right? You gotta give us something to work with. A little somethin’ like this—” Steve shimmied his hips, miming pulling his sweats down all slow, ass popped and knees bent. “— a little ass action, yeah?”

He grinned when you laughed loudly, eyes shining and your hand covering your mouth but it only encouraged him. “Right? You get it. A little over the shoulder look, bat those eyes. Did you drop something? Oh, yeah you did,” he smirked, smug and pleased with himself. “It was your panties.”

“You’re in the wrong job, Harrington. That was quite the show.”

Steve hummed, “yeah, but I can’t walk in heels, so,” he tsked and grinned. 

“Anything else to add?” You asked him. 

But the boy was already making his way back to the couch so he could settle next to you, a casual arm slung on the back cushions, his hand barely grazing your neck. “Nah, honestly, guys are pretty simple.”

You grinned, nodding. “Well,” you slapped softly at his thigh. “Thanks for your honesty.”

Steve cleared his throat and tried not to act like your hand on his leg was doing what it was doing for him. “Yeah, yeah, same. I, uh, I wish you’d told me last night, though.”

You gazed at him questioningly. 

“You know, that you didn’t finish.” Steve suddenly seemed shy, licking at his bottom lip and looking anywhere but your eyes. “I would’ve tried to, uh, make that happen for you.”

“Oh.” You were warmer than you had been all day. “I know. I should’ve said. That wasn’t fair.” It was hard to speak, your throat too tight, your voice breathy and losing that bossy tone it had had before. 

Steve finally lifted his gaze back to yours and suddenly, he seemed so much closer than before. He shifted, his hand touching your neck just briefly and you wondered if it was an accident. The forgotten TV timed out, blinked and settled back to black and Steve was multicoloured. The disco bowl still spun, lights shifting slowly over the boy’s skin, your hands in your lap, the cracks in the old walls. 

You watched him lick at his lips, mouth pinker than ever with the lights, lashes blinking as he seemed to mull something over in his head. Did he lean in? Or was that you? A shift, a pull, something that someone did that cause your shoulders to bump, your thigh to brush his. 

“I could try again,” he whispered. “If you want. For science.”

The disco light spun, colours changed and Steve’s eyes went from honey to amber to gold. He waited, patient, nervous. 

“Science?” You whispered and Steve nodded, gaze on your lips. 

“Yeah, we could test out those pointers, y’know? See if we actually did need a presentation, might’ve been better off with a diagram or something but hey, you never kn— mmph—”

Steve was cut off, your lips pressed to his, your hands on his cheeks. It was a little messy at first, off kilter and desperate, but you moved closer and let your lips brush over his, your breath a heavy fan over his mouth and chin. You let him chase you, silently checking that this is what he wanted to and your heart was ready to break out of your chest when his hand clutched at your hip and pulled you back. Fingertips travelled up your side, delicate, hesitant, but when they raked through your hair and grabbed at the back of your neck, Steve didn’t waste anymore time. 

He kissed you back, lips parting against yours, tongue sliding your own, nose pressed to your cheek. He took it slow, less ramped up and needy than the night before, ‘cause suddenly you were both gifted with all the time in the world. It was a push and pull, all soft presses of your lips on Steve’s, a slow tease, deep and languid. It was bone melting, a simmering heat, a new neediness that you hadn’t felt since the night before. 

You pulled back, lips already kiss swollen and pink, eyes a little glazed and you were pleased to see that Steve looked the same. You pressed a hand to his chest and sucked in the breath he’d stolen. “You’re good at that,” you told him, voice a little wrecked. “Mhmm, good kisser, zero complaints.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, pleased with himself. “Five out of five? You’d recommend me to a friend?”

You rolled your eyes and left his side, hauling yourself to your feet. “God, shut up, don’t make me change my mind.”

Steve raised his brows, watching as you backed away, fingers toying with the edge of your shirt. “Change your mind?” He asked a little hoarsely. “Change your mind about what?”

You shrugged, waiting until you were at his bedroom door before looking back, your chin pressed to your shoulder and your eyes on him. “Come find out.” 

You heard him swear softly under his breath, the scramble from the couch, the way his socks slid against the wooden floorboards. Steve was behind you in an instant, eyes heavy and pupils blown. You grinned as he backed himself clumsily to the bed, the backs of his knees hitting the mattress before he sat with a thump, never once letting his eyes leave you. 

“Take your shirt off,” you told him softly. “You kinda waited for me to undress you last night, which, I get the idea behind it but you’re a big boy, Steve, you can do it yourself.”

He merely nodded, stripping himself of his shirt before flinging it somewhere in his room, leaning back on his elbows as you grinned at him. You leaned over to the light switch, the harsh ceiling light clicking off and bathing you both in semi darkness, but before the boy could comment, you switched the bedside lamp on, a softer, warmer light illuminating the space and you. 

Steve smiled, nodding. “Compromise, I like it.”

“Right?” You said, “we listened, we took notes, we can do this.”

“We can totally do this,” Steve agreed, “it’s gonna— oh…” 

The boy trailed off as you lifted your shirt from your body, slow, enticing, movements measured and you tried not to let your breath shudder with nerves. But as more skin was revealed, the darker Steve’s gaze grew and you were urged on. The shirt hit the floor and your hands found your jeans, fingers toying with the button, the zip and imitating the move Steve had done in the living room, you smiled shyly and turned to the side, bending at the waist so you could slide the denim down over your thighs and knees. You stepped out of them and pulled off your socks too - Steve’s socks - finally showing off the pretty lace set that you had indeed picked out to wear for him. 

You let out the breath you’d been holding, watching Steve from under your lashes, enjoying the way he had fisted the sheets in his hands, how his eyes were flickering from your chest to your stomach to your ass to your legs, like he didn’t know where to look first. So you turned again, your back to him, grinning at the wall when he groaned lowly, and brought your hands to the clasp of your bra, undoing it and letting the lace fall to the floor too. It took a lot for you to bring your arms down from where they’d naturally crossed in front of your chest, but you let your hands soothe down your stomach until your thumbs hooked into the sides of your underwear and you let them drop down your legs too, a crush of black lace on his bedroom floor. 

Completely bare for him, you turned and met his gaze, releasing your bottom lip from where your teeth had pinched at it. “Did you mean something like that?” You asked quietly. 

Steve swallowed audibly, his breath coming out in a shaky huff as he nodded, his eyes glazed over as he stared. He kept nodding, eager, his messy hair falling into his face. “Yeah, yeah something like that,” he agreed. 

Your knees pressed into the bed as you joined him, squeaking when his hands spanned the side of your waist and pulled you to him. He kissed you like he did on his sofa, all encompassing, his tongue sliding perfectly over yours and you revelled in the way your body lit up for him, a live wire under his touch. 

“Wanna make you come,” Steve whispered between kisses and his words made you bite back a groan, “wanna make up for it.”

So you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak until Steve kissed his way down your neck, latching on to a particular spot that made you grab at his hair a little meanly. His lips took their time brushing across your chest, mouthing hotly at your skin, tongue sliding over a nipple, hands gliding over the parts of you he wasn’t kissing. And when he pressed his mouth to your navel, he looked up at you with an earnest expression, all boyish and with his hair falling into his eyes. 

“Can I use my mouth?” Steve asked, his lips already brushing over your hip bones, the soft pudge of your stomach. 

You whined, nodding, thankful you’d had the courage to ask the boy if you could use his shower after you’d eaten that morning and Steve revelled in the fact your skin smelled like him, his body wash, his shampoo. 

“Say it, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, already moving down to spread your legs, hands pushing at each thigh to make room for him to lie between. There was nothing to stop him from seeing every part of you, the soft light casting honey coloured shadows over your skin and it made you squirm. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Please,” you gasped out, blindly grasping for his hair to hold onto, keening when Steve brushed the tip of his nose against your folds, bumping clumsy over your clit. “Please, Steve.”

“How’d you want it?” He asked you quietly and you heard the nervousness there, the need to please you. Steve kissed at your inner thigh, sucked a small bruise there and smiled when your hips lifted from the bed. “You gotta tell me, sweetheart, I wanna do good. How’d you like it, huh?”

Dirty talk wasn’t your forte, never really had been. But Steve was looking at you so sincerely that you couldn’t say no. So you let your head fall back into his pillows and let your lashes flutter closed. “I— I like it soft, at first. Teasing. Like… like little kisses. Just to— oh, god.”

Steve had started doing as you asked, warm hands holding your thighs apart for him, spreading you open so he could press butterfly soft kisses over your cunt. He didn’t focus on one particular part, ghosting over your clit to warm you up, leaving you wanting more. He hummed when you cried out, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. His tongue stroked softly over you, kitten licks over your skin, dipping only once into your entrance, grazing over your clit and making you arch up. 

“Like that? Is that better?” Steve murmured. 

You nodded, still clutching at strands of his hair. “Yeah, like that,” you agreed and god, you didn’t sound like yourself. 

“Keep talkin,” he told you, chin ducking back down so he could taste you again, tongue a slow drag over you. 

“More,” you asked, voice high and needy, “please.”

“More what, sweetheart?” Steve was teasing now, he had to be, ‘cause his hands were holding down your hips so you would stop chasing his mouth and your chest was flushed, the same pretty heat crawling across your cheeks. “Told you, you gotta tell me.”

“Your tongue,” you managed to choke out, “keep it— keep it flat and just— oh, shit, Steve.”

The boy was a fast learner, doing exactly what you said as he kept his tongue soft and flat, dragging it slowly over your cunt, licking from your entrance to your clit. He brought his fingers to you, circled them teasingly until you whined and nodded, begging and babbling nonsense. Steve swore into you when you shuddered, two fingers sliding into you easily and he focused his tongue on your clit, keeping up that soft slide against it that you seemed to like best. 

“Oh, fuck,” you were panting, thighs hooked over his shoulders and Steve’s face pressed into you, groaning at the way you were grinding against him, fingers slipping deeper, hips lifting and pushing against his tongue. “Fuck, SteveSteveSteve, m’gonna come.” 

He didn’t do anything differently, he didn’t dare. Steve just moaned against you, hooked his fingers until you keened and let you ride his face, his tongue staying where it was until you were crying out, pulling on his hair, your thighs shuddering by his ears. He felt you clench down on his fingers, cunt a vice around them and he swore he almost came, his own hips rutting mindlessly against the mattress as you moaned out his name as you settled down. 

You were panting, eyes unfocused as Steve crawled back up your body, his lips shiny with you, his gaze looking just as fucked out as you felt and Jesus, he was painfully hard beneath his jeans. You scrambled for him, more keyed up than ever, ‘cause you’d never come like that before, not with someone else. One hand grabbed at his jaw, bringing him down for a kiss as you wrestled with his jeans, fumbling with the button until he broke away to strip them off for you. He looked elated when you chased after him, hands pushing and grabbing at his shoulders until you got him back on the bed, his head hitting the pillows with an ooof, before he pushed himself up on his elbows to watch. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Steve chanted, eyes fluttering and head rolling back when you wrapped a hand around his cock. You watched the way his jaw tensed, how his neck went taught. “I can’t believe m’sayin’ this but - oh Christ, fuck - I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You smiled and then pouted, crawling between the boy’s legs so you could pepper kisses across his stomach, the line of muscle leading to his hips, the dusting of light hair down his navel. 

“That’s no fun,” you commented mildly. “C’mon, Steve, have some self control, huh?”

And then you licked a stripe up the length of his cock, catching the underside of his tip with your tongue, unable to stop the grin on your lips when his hips bucked and he cried out. Your name hung in the air with some choice curse words, and you’d have been offended if he didn’t look the way he did. Wrecked, ruined, all messy haired and glossy lips, pupils blown wide for you. 

“Want me to stop?” You asked, slowly pumping him.He shook his head, lips parted, chest heaving. You smiled, saccharine sweet and you wondered when you’d last had this much fun in bed with someone. “Tell me when you do, ‘kay?”

Steve groaned his agreement, letting his head fall back and his fingers twist in your hair as you sunk your mouth back down on him, wanting to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You hadn’t done this last night, both of you too eager to get to the main event, but you took your time now, doing your best to take as much of him as you could, tongue sliding up and down his cock as you moved him to the back of your throat. 

Steve whined when he felt himself nudge there, his cock heavy on your tongue, his hand skimming over your cheek in a surprisingly intimate gesture, but then his thumb tugged at your bottom lip, ran itself across the way it was stretched out around him and it was dirty, it was sheer filth and you moaned around him at the feel of it. 

“Oh god, fucking— Jesus Christ, sweetheart, I can’t…” Steve tapped at your head, babbling, eyes panicked as he tried his best to keep his hips from lifting off of the bed and chasing your mouth. “M’gonna fuckin’ explode, you can’t—”

You pulled away, lips swollen and red, eyes a little wide at how affected he seemed to be but before you could ask if he was okay, Steve was pulling you onto his lap, arms wrapped tight around you. He kissed you harder than before, a desperate bite to it that you didn’t mind at all and you keened high when your cunt slid slick over his cock, nudging up against your still sensitive clit. 

“Good?” You asked, breathless between kisses, Steve’s face dipping so he could mouth along your jaw, the line of your throat. “Any— god, any notes?”

“None, fuck, no, no, none,” Steve rambled, losing all sense of restraint as he started to guide your hips over his, the length of his cock tucked hard between your slick folds, both of your crying out at the friction. “Ten out of ten, five stars,” he choked out. 

You huffed out a soft laugh, lashes fluttering as he nipped and sucked at your collarbone, your hands reaching to twist into his hair, holding him to your. “Would you… shit, Steve… would you recommend me to a friend?”

Steve wanted to growl. Mine mine mine mine mine. 

Instead, he laughed too, shaking his head as he moved his lips back to your neck, nosing over the soft skin, grazing the line of your jaw until he found your mouth again. He kissed you too sweetly, too lazily, for the way you were rocking over him, desperate to chase some sort of release again. 

“Nah,” he managed to answer, “they couldn’t handle you.”

You grinned, pleased with his answer, even if it was a lie. You kissed the boy, too wrapped up in the way he felt under you to call him out on it. Instead you let him run his hands down your back, fingers tripping up over the curves there, the arch of your back, the line of your waist. 

“And you can?” 

Steve pulled back, still so close, nose grazing your own and he hid his smile with a twist of his lips. He smirked instead, gaze lowered to look at your lips. He shrugged, too casual and said, “I’ll give it a good try.”

You knew from last night where Steve kept the condoms, leaning over him to rummage in his bedside drawer until you could rip open the foil packet and throw it somewhere for one of you to find later. The boy hissed when you rolled it on him, over sensitive already and god, your hands were shaking. He kneaded your hips with rough fingers, leaned back into the pillows and he was cast in the warm light, skin looking tanned and apricot under the glow. 

“Like this?” Steve murmured and everything turned a little softer, the air taught with something that hadn’t been there the night before, no cheap beer to dull the senses, the weed long worn off. “Or do you want something else? Just tell me,” Steve was gazing up at you, his words sticky in his throat and god, was he as nervous as you were? “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Like this,” you agreed, nodding and suddenly you were desperate to feel him.

 You knelt up, dipping the mattress on either side of him and Steve helped you move over him, fisting his cock and letting you sink down onto it, eyes clenching shut as you lowered. He was a tight fit, almost too big and Steve groaned as he slipped in, hands rubbing soothing at your hips until you’d taken him to the base. 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out, chest heaving, jaw slack. “You feel so good, just— just gimme a minute.”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, agreeing with everything Steve said, hands clutching at his wrists as he held you, ready to explode from the inside out, ‘cause you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. “Shit, s’good, I can’t—”

“Take your time,” Steve told you, gasping out when you rolled your hips, barely lifting yourself off of him but the way he nudged up against your walls had you crying out. “Fucking hell, that’s it, shit, baby, there you go.”

Baby. 

Different than sweetheart, better, warmer, holding less sarcasm, making you feel sticky sweet with it, his words cloying, his hands on your skin even more so. 

You were panting, skin slick, too warm despite the snow piling up higher and higher outside and the noises that fell from the back of your throat only seemed to spur Steve on. He was greedy with it, hyper focused on making you come again, ‘cause he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go on without seeing you fall apart for him again. He liked the way his name sounded on your tongue, how you grabbed and scratched at him when you wanted more. 

He wanted it again and again and again—

“What d’you need?” Steve asked, voice cracking in the middle when he lifted his hips to meet yours. 

You cried out, eyes glassy, falling into him so you could wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest to his. “More,” you murmured back, “more of you.”

You didn’t know what that meant, and neither did Steve, not really but it made him smile because you were so past gone on him it wasn’t even funny. So you let him manhandle you, rolling you both until he had you pinned to the mattress and he hitched one leg over a forearm, holding you open so he could drive into you deeper. 

“Like that?” Steve asked and you nodded, fingers tripping down your skin until they landed in your clit and you rubbed circles there, clenching down on him when you hit that right spot. “Oh shit, oh shitshitshit, please tell me you’re close.”

Steve’s thrust started to stutter, his rhythm picking up as he slammed into you a little harder, a little deeper and your eyes shuttered closed as you got what you wanted. More of Steve. You nodded, mouth falling open, jaw slack and Steve used his free hand to run his palm up your body, pinching at a nipple before letting his fingers rest at the base of your throat as he fucked up into you. 

“Steve,” you gasped and he moaned back, a strangled sound that might’ve been your name too and he could feel you tightening around him again, just like you did around his fingers and then you were cursing into the dim of his bedroom, clutching tightly at the boy when he came too, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself over you until he buried his face into the crook of your neck and swore. 

“That— that was—”

You nodded, skin still tingling. “Yeah,” you croaked, “that was, yeah.”

“—so fuckin’ good.”

“So much better.”

“Holy shit, we’re good at that.”

“Insane.”

“There’s a lot to be said for listening in class, huh?”

...

[ravers8fantasy]

🎶Disco kid headcanon's!!🪩

Honestly, one of the realest ones in all the circuits I fear...

ALSO HE IS 20 AND 6'3??? I thought he was 19...

Okay so turns out bro is 20 so I think he joined when he was 18 or 19

Sings proper flipping loudly in the shower, its a good thing he's good at singing

Will listen to anything, he is more of a melody person than a lyrics person

Has a drawer full of listening devices, he has like 5 pairs of headphones and so many speakers

Had a swag era in highschool (is still kinda in his swag era but remix)

Sometimes shows up to W.B.V.A meetings in full on 70s attire for fun. Im talking silk shirt and high waisted l bell bottoms

Usually catches everyone off guard as well since they are used to seeing him in more modern outfits (im basing these hcs around 2009 and perchance 2010s idk they change on my mood)

Can handle spicy food pretty well.... Even though he ate a singular taki one time and perished

I saw in his contender mode intro cutscene that his licence plate is custom made (its DISCO-1) which made me think he decorates his car

Like he has a pair of fuzzy dice hanging off the mirror in the front, has like stickers on the dashboard and has like custom made seats-

Also theres this nice looking house in the background with this music note gate, either he is rich or his parents are rich

Or is that normal for people in America to have a house like that, I live in an old af house in Scotland so I defo wouldnt know💀

His favourite color is blue, or pink, or mabye yellow and orange but then again he is a sucker for kitsch patterns-

He loves colour. Ik his ass would HATE to see maximalist antique homes turned into an all white sleek mininalist abyss

Is a beast at roller skating, has a pair of blue and yellow ones with little stars all over.

Hates roller blading tho he says 3 he cant dance properly in them which makes him sad

His hair is originally brown, saw someone at a party with buzzed bleached hair and thought it was so cool he decided to get the same thing

Does calisthenics, has been asked a bunch of questions by other boxers asking him how tf he does it

HATES furbies, had one when he was younger and he put it in a draw in his bedroom after it didnt shut up.

He woke up in the middle of the night to a voice asking to be fed and started crying, turns out it was the flippin furby inside the draw

Has the most perfect comedic timing ever, there is never a dull moment when your with Disco kid

Suprsingly doesnt mind horror films, his fave genre list would probably go 1.horror/thriller 2.Action 3.drama/romance

He was a tumbler in his high school's cheer team and did ballroom for a bit, has a bunch of trophies from cheer and competitive ballroom dancing

Loves going down to a deli and getting a sandwich, usually gets a new filling combination everytime he goes

Has the most amazing wardrobe out of all the boxers, I like to think he is like the 'lewis hamilton' of the W.B.V.A (in terms of style not boxing bless also YALL LEWIS HAMILTONS FASHION SENSE IS SO😼😼😼)

The type of guy who never shuts up when watching a film, he literally ends up narrating the whole thing

Literally never stops moving, if he is standing on the spot he will be tapping his foot or move his head to whatever beat is playing in his head

Also like as no beef or issues with any of the other boxers, some of them (Aran... Wait and perchance idk Soda and stuff yknow) might insult him and would just dance and say "ok! Thats your opinion, Not mine though I think im fabulous anyway"

Chat im giggling at this gif anyway if you see any mistakes in grammer please embarass me and call me out and I will correct it with the utmost haste😼

OK HOPE YALL ENJOYED GOODNIGHT (or good morning or uh good day or evening depending on where u are)

[ghoulsbounty]

Okay! Boyd Crowder request pretty please. How about some short headcanons/ thoughts about reader wearing one of his shirts. You know those ones from S2 and 3? Like it’s a warm day and reader shows up to Johnny’s bar in some denim shorts, a crop top and one of Boyd’s shirts open with the sleeves rolled up. I think he’d loose his goddamn mind. Preferably no smut, but I know the request kinda leans into it so maybe something at the end. idk! you do you! Thank you!

Wearing His Shirt

Boyd Crowder x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight spoilers for season 2/3, alludes to smut but no actual mention, a little angst, comfort, fluff and a happy ending.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Anon, this turned more into a little fic/scenario moment rather than a headcanon, I hope that's okay and you enjoy it still! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

Boyd likes to think of himself as a considerate partner. Although your relationship is still relatively new, he takes pride in picking up on the small details that bring you joy or cause you distress, often understanding your needs before you articulate them. However, with the recent acquisition of his cousin's bar and the complexities of the Black Pike deal, his focus on you has diminished more than he'd like to acknowledge. His once regular check-ins and sweet messages have become sporadic and hurried, often cut short by pressing business matters. The late nights and brief phone calls have led to him being less present both physically and emotionally, and you're reaching your breaking point.

Johnny's bar buzzes with activity, the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses creating a lively symphony in the dimly lit space. The familiar scent of beer and faint traces of smoke hang in the air. As you push open the door and step inside, the room's energy seems to shift, heads turning to acknowledge your presence with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. Their gazes, like predators sizing up their prey, linger on you, but your focus is singular.

Boyd stands behind the bar, a rag casually draped over his shoulder, the dim light casting a warm glow on his features. He engages in a conversation with a patron who is leaning heavily on the counter, gesticulating animatedly. Boyd nods along, listening intently, but the moment he spots you approaching, a noticeable change comes over him. His eyes lock onto you with an intensity that makes the bustling room seem to fall away.

As you saunter towards him, his gaze follows your every step, his attention entirely consumed by your presence. The customer’s words fade into the background, reduced to a dull hum as Boyd's focus shifts solely to you. His eyes drift down your body, taking in every detail of your appearance, from the way your eyes shine as you look at him to the confident way you carry yourself. It's as if he's seeing you for the first time all over again, his expression a mix of admiration and longing.

You feel a spark of satisfaction knowing that you can still capture his attention so completely, even amidst the chaos of his busy bar. As you reach the counter, Boyd's lips curl into a slow smile, the kind that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. You watch as he gestures with a hand to the customer he was previously talking with and you smile at the older gentleman as he rises from his seat, disappearing behind you.

Boyd leans slightly closer, his eyes never leaving yours, making you feel like the most important person in the room. In that moment, surrounded by the lively chatter and clinking glasses, it’s clear that no one else matters to him but you.

Seeing you in his shirt stirs something deep within him, a quiet sense of possessiveness that isn’t about control or dominance, but rather a satisfying feeling of connection. He appreciates the way you fill out the shirt, how the navy and grey fabric drapes over your frame, hinting at the contours beneath.

To the other men in the establishment, the glimpse of your bare thighs in those fitted cut-offs or the swell of your breasts in the thin crop underneath his shirt would undoubtedly set their hearts racing. Boyd, too, couldn’t help but appreciate that enticing sight. However, what truly struck a chord with him was witnessing your subtle proclamation of his ownership over you amidst a room bustling with other men. You belong to him, and he certainly belongs to you. 

You approach him with slow, deliberate strides until just the counter is between you, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of admiration and desire. A mischievous spark dances in his eyes as he leans casually against the bar, his fingertips tingling with the desire to caress the fabric, to revel in the warmth of your skin beneath. Yet, just before his hand extends, he halts, a silent gesture of restraint, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a thrilling shiver down your spine. With a deliberate movement, he clasps his hands firmly on the counter, his touch reserved yet charged with an unspoken promise of what could be.

His voice, usually smooth and confident, carries a subtle huskiness as he speaks. "Well now, ain't that a sight," he remarks, his drawl laced with amusement. "Looks like my shirt found itself in the finest of company today."

"Been feeling mighty lonely lately. Ain't been getting much attention, you know," you confide in him, a playful lilt in your voice as you tilt your head. "Thought maybe borrowing your shirt might do the trick, you reckon?"

Straightening up, Boyd casts a deliberate gaze around the room, a silent command for everyone present to divert their attention away from the captivating vixen who's currently pouting at him. Once he's ensured that all eyes have shifted elsewhere, he snaps his focus back to you with a confident smirk.

"Well, darlin'," he drawls, his voice low and rough, "seems like you've succeeded in getting everyone's attention, mine included."

"Hard work, nowadays," you sigh dramatically, and he chuckles softly as he leans across the bar, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly soft kiss, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. "Do I get to keep it for long?" you whisper, your voice barely audible amidst the buzz of the bar.

"Have I been neglecting you, baby?" He grins as he leans back slightly, his hand reaching out to casually adjust the rolled sleeves of his shirt that adorns your figure. "Is that why you've decided to grace my fine establishment with your beauty, nearly causing every man in this joint to suffer a near fatal heart attack, hm?"

His tone is playful, but beneath the jest, there's a hint of genuine concern. He watches you closely, searching your eyes for any sign of discontent or longing, his fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt on your skin with a tender familiarity.

You giggle, running your thumb along his forearm as he continues to absentmindedly toy with the fabric. "Maybe that was the plan all along. Finally, some quality time for me with no customers or associates around, huh? I can be your number one priority," you tease, the playful tone in your voice ringing through the air. But your laughter falters as you notice a brief flicker of something in his expression, a momentary hardening before it softens again.

His gaze meets yours, and you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes, the struggle to balance his personal and professional life. There's a vulnerability there that he rarely shows, a glimpse behind the confident façade he wears for the world. You reach out, your hand gently squeezing his arm, silently offering reassurance and understanding.

As he pulls back from you, a fleeting worry crosses your mind. Have you said too much? Pushed him too far? Though Boyd has never so much as raised his voice at you, his sudden movement sparks a flicker of concern. You watch in silence as he takes the rag from his shoulder, tossing it down onto the bar with a resolute thud, and steps out from behind the counter, closing the distance between you at last.

In that moment of uncertainty, his words wash over you like a soothing balm. "You are always my first priority," he murmurs, his voice soft and intimate, filled with a sincerity that melts away your apprehension. His arms slide under the shirt you wear, encircling your waist as he draws you close to his chest.

As you nestle against him, his gaze meets yours, and you see the earnestness in his eyes. "I'm sorry I haven't been present," he admits, his voice tinged with remorse. "But I'm going to fix that."

"I know," you assure him with a smile, your hands tenderly resting on his chest as you lean in to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

He returns your smile, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in a hushed tone, meant only for you to hear. "Let's go in the back," he murmurs softly, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "I've got a feeling I need to remind you just how much you mean to me."

[blackdollette]

hey there! just wanted to request a lil smut with female reader and clyde when kinda experienced reader takes clydes v card and hes like super shy n stuff and its just really cute :)

aww i like this one! :))

"kissing you hard, got my lipstick on your face." | clyde

roses. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl @romanroyapoligist @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @vanlisbon @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly

female!reader x virgin!clyde

word count: 1.8k

contents: unprotected p in v

the night was still young, and the fun was just about to begin. from raging parties to slow makeout sessions in the back of clyde’s van, there was never a dull moment when you were with him.

tonight’s activity wasn’t anything special, but it held much potential for moving to the next level in your relationship. he was sprawled across the couch with you lying face down on top of him. he tangled complicated swirls into your hair and he used his other hand to draw mindless patterns onto your soft skin with his fingertips.

your eyes momentarily flickered to the movie that was playing on the television, your mind travelling to something that has strangely never occurred in you and his agenda. you had been through it all together: through the best and worst times of your life, he had always been there. you two had a palpable connection that took years to build and would only grow stronger. but you couldn’t shake the thought that you and him weren’t fully united.

he had never touched you. and it was mutual. the most heated you’d ever gotten with him was lying down on top of him as his boner pressed into your stomach, and even then, he insisted that you could have the bed to yourself for the night, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with the awkward occurrence of his erection.

but that had been your plan all along. you wanted to lead him on so that you could finally take that deeper step into your relationship. but as usual, he found a convenient way to turn you down. the first few times he avoided getting intimate with you, you paid no mind to it. but as the years passed, you got the impression that it wasn’t as much of a coincidence as you thought.

you snapped back into reality as he gently caressed your hips, his heavy-lidded eyes shutting as exhaustion spread through his body. your heart warmed at the sight, but the raging question still burned in your mind. you had pushed it back for as long as you could remember, but there was no better time than now.

you shook him a little. once, then twice before tickling him a little. you whispered gently in his ear. “clyde, wake up…” your lips just barely brushed against his ear lobe making his eyes spring open. his gaze met your bug, dolly eyes looking right back at him, causing a smile to tug at his lips. he pulls you into a tender kiss, holding it for a few seconds before speaking.

“what’s up, doll..?” god. his voice alone was enough to send blood rushing down to your sensitive bud. you cleared your throat slightly, deciding how to approach this. you could either ease him into the topic, slowly undressing yourself until he took charge, or you could just rip the bandaid off and get straight to it. considering all your past failed attempts, you decided to go with the latter.

you caressed his cheek with your thumb, his cold skin warming up with your touch. his breathing was barely audible over yours, the tension becoming stronger by the second. he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you into him even more before slowly connecting his lips with yours once again, drinking you in as your hearts raced in unison.

short gasps slipped from his lips as you caressed his jawline. the movie droned on in the background but you had managed to get him to tune that out. his hands ran up and down your back as your hand slowly slipped down to his throbbing manhood. as soon as he caught onto what you were getting at, he pulled away from the kiss, his once pale skin now flushed brick-red.

he laughed nervously, putting some distance between the two of you. he looked at you, struggling to get his words out as his mind rushed. “w-we almost forgot about this movie, huh?” his eyes bounced around the room, displaying clear discomfort. you frown, beginning to see the bigger picture. 

he notices your change in mood. he pats you on the head, smiling sheepishly before turning his attention back to the screen. with a frustrated sigh, you grabbed the remote out of his grip, turning off the tv. he looks at you with confusion painted all over his face. “baby..?” you toss the remote to the side, sitting up and pulling him with you. 

you take a deep breath. it was now or never, and at this point you were just dying to know the answer to your question. “why won’t you have sex with me..?” as soon as you spoke, you cursed yourself for being so forward. your cheeks burned as you caught a glimpse of his flushed expression.

he chokes on his words, unable to give you any sort of response. this only fills your heart with even more dread. “am i the problem, clyde? is it me?” that dumb, stunned expression remains on his face. your patience snaps like a thread. “answer me! is it because im to-” your negative words are cut off but yet another embrace, his lips locking with yours with more passion than ever.

he holds this kiss for a long time, allowing your tongues to mesh together and explore each other more than ever before. his hands travel up your shirt, lifting it up and disconnecting your lips for just a second to pull it over your head. he takes a moment to stare at your body for a moment. you sat bare in front of him, your nipples hardening from the cool air.

his hands were wrapped around your waist as he took in your body for the first time. this was the closest to nude that he’d ever seen you. “s-so perfect…” his gaze travelled down your figure, stopping at your black panties. he went to go pull down the fabric, but you stopped him, placing a hand on his heart. “you haven't answered my question…”

he too a deep shaky breath, realizing that the truth would come out eventually. “ive been pushing back on doing it with you b-because… im a virgin…” his voice got quiet at the end, but suddenly you understood. you placed your hands in his hair, running your fingers through his brown locks as he continued to speak.

“dont get me wrong. ive thought about it, like a lot. like whenever we kiss or sleep together or you sit on my lap or-” he begins to ramble, getting turned on just by the thought of you in this state. his eyes meet your breasts once more before they move up to your eyes. he sighs deeply, speaking more solemnly this time. “y-your perfect, and i just don’t wanna mess up or hurt you or anything, y’know?” you scoot onto his lap a little more, feeling his hard-on pressing right against your wet, clothed pussy.

his ears started to tingle as his body begged for you. he made eye contact with you, exchanging a thousand words that didn’t even need to be said. he started pulling up his shirt, tossing it to where yours was before wrapping his arms around you. after a few moments, he finally says the words you’ve been dying to hear. “im ready for you, baby…”

in a flash, your wet panties along with his baggy sweatpants were discarded, leaving both on your bare as you hungrily embraced eachother. your mouths reconnected, the kisses becoming sloppier as each second passed. you lifted your hips, getting a light grip on his painful erection. he hisses sharply at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock, but he just watches, allowing you to take the lead.

you use his tip to tease the entrance of your dripping cunt, slurred moans slipping from your parted lips. clyde places his gentle hands onto your hips, helping you sink down onto his length. he fills you up pretty easily, but you gasp at the feeling of his length in your hole. he gets a stab of worry.

“are you ok? does this hurt?” you can sense the worry in his voice, but you start rocking your hips against him slowly. he takes your hands in his for support as the overwhelming feeling turns to one of pleasure. he exhales deeply, allowing his body to submit to the sensation. he watched as you slowly rode him, his precum making the perfect lube. 

clyde quickly gets into the feeling, getting a better sense of what he’s doing. he slips a hand to your throbbing clit, starting to rub slow circles onto it. louder moans emerge from your throat, giving the signal that he’s doing the right thing. “t-this is ok..?” he still sounds unsure, but when you nod shakily, he speeds up his motions, hearing the wet sounds your sweet little pussy makes.

time begins to go elastic as you quicken up your pace, the sounds of breathless moans and skin slapping filling the room. clyde’s mouth is on one of your tits, swirling his tongue around your hard nipple as he uses his hand to work on the other one. your tight cunt squeezes against his length, causing his occasional groans to become more frequent.

your eyes travelled down his toned, muscular body, making you wonder why you hadn’t down this sooner. his dilated pupils swallowed his baby blue irises, making him look much more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. the moment comes when he feels that bundle of heat forming in the depths of his gut, signalling his first orgasm.

the sensation is completely unfamiliar to him, and his body gets overwhelmed with the feeling once more, but before he can get a word out, he’s shooting his ropes of cum into your core. you throw your head back, riding him at a rapid pace and making both your bodies jump, your tits bouncing right in front of his face.

you milk him completely dry, not stopping until you sense his overstimulation. you pull yourself off of him, letting his cum drip out of your hole and back onto his girth. you collapsed on top of him, panting as you recollected yourself from being filled up so much. if he hadn’t told you that this was his first time, you never would’ve guessed.

clyde gently caresses your cheek, looking at you as the realization finally sinks in. you had taken his virginity. you allowed him to take that major step into manhood. silence filled the room as you closed your eyes, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. the silence was broken by a question that you never would’ve expected. “so… round 2?”

author's note: im back from my unannounced break yall :)) i got two requests this morning plus one from last week that im going to try to get out this weekend. hope you all enjoyed!

[putschki1969]

YKL vol.#20～Japanese Seal 20th Special～ Kanagawa Performance Broadcast

2024.06.09 Kanagawa・Kenmin Hall The second concert of this year's Yuki Kajiura live tour was broadcast last night on TBS Channel 1. The tour is titled “Special Japanese Seal” referring to the fact that no Japanese songs are performed. This exclusion does not apply to the encore section. User 蓝原延珠_ on Bilibili kindly provided their recording of the broadcast, you can watch it HERE. I was only able to download a 720p version (~1GB) of it but for the time being, it will do. I am eager to watch it and write a little report. Hopefully an HQ version will pop up in a few days. Without further ado, let's get going〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

overture〜アンチヒーロー〜Main Theme〜: Right off the bat, I'm noticing that the audio is quite dull and maybe even slightly tinny? Might be the specific recording but it's probably more a matter of the TV broadcasts generally having bad audio. That was clearly noticeable when you compared the Kaji Fes TV broadcast to the BD release. Anyway, we are off to a great start. Glad to see rito and Lino on stage from the get-go and not just for a couple of songs here and there. It always feels a bit awkward for them to have the status of "regular" members but only appearing on stage sporadically. I haven't listened to any songs from the Antihero soundtrack so this is all new to me. Classic YK, the type of song I will always gravitate towards. Beautiful harmonies. Enjoying the slight whine in Eri's voice, so emotional. Love when the epic part starts and you can hear an entire chorus in the background (maybe a bit too much studio magic going on here but I don't mind for grand sections like that). Must have been a real goosebumps moment at the live.

the four rings: Wow, this one is so good. Don't think I've heard it before. Not too familiar with the Heaven’s Feel OST tbh. Really getting goosebumps now. Although I will say that here, the post-editing is a bit overbearing, it seems to almost drown out the vocals of our songstresses. Don't get me wrong, it still sounds amazing and I am enjoying the hell out of it but I wonder how it was like at the venue (with presumably less studio magic). With six singers on stage, they can certainly achieve some powerful choral work but of course it would still pale in comparison to a larger choir. Nonetheless, this is an instant favourite. Hope they will perform it during the Asia tour leg. Although I kinda doubt it since they said that the setlist would be very different. But who knows, it's Fate/stay night so it's probably among the more-likely pieces to be performed among Yuki's huge repertoire. My guess is that they will stick to the most popular anime stuff because they know that will get the audience excited.

absolute configuration: Perfect transition. Never getting tired of this song. And I'm glad we are back to a more natural sound with less studio magic. Solid performance as always.

E.G.O: Have they ever performed this live for a home video release? I don't think so. It was included in one of the live complication albums (Fictionjunction 2010-2013) but I don't recall ever watching a live performance. I have to admit that I haven't even listened to the live audio track, must have dismissed it when I first got the album. I can understand why because it's not really my type of song. It's not bad but not my favourite either. Very old-school YK so that's fun. And there are a couple of nice Keiko parts, that's always a treat.

キッチン革命〜Main Theme〜: A completely new track from one of Yuki's most recent works. Definitely a perfect fit for a show called "Kitchen Revolution" XD Especially the percussion at the beginning. The harmony between Yuriko, Lino and rito works really well, they sound good together. Other than that, it probably won't become one of my favourite songs. Generally not a huge fan of Yuriko as main vocalist. No one does those gorgeous operatic higher harmonies like her but when the spotlight is on her, it's typically not my cup of tea.

voyagers: As far as I know, we only have the studio version and live audio from the compilation album as reference. No official live footage. The song has never really stuck out to me, it is okay but it's a bit too derivative of much better tracks from Yuki. Will keep it short so I don't trigger anyone. But it's definitely one of those songs where I prefer the version with Wakana. Joelle's vocals don't do anything for me here. But since I am not super invested in the song anyway, I can't say I care much.

Historia: opening theme: Beautiful rendition. Love that they brought all six vocalists back on stage for this. Naturally, I'm quite fond of Wakana's version once again (not least of all because this song will always have a connection to Kalafina) but Yuriko does a fanstatic job of singing her parts, admittedly, she has much better control so her voice sounds very crisp and lovely. Joelle provides great support here and their voices blend well together.

forest: Never been a fan. I didn’t like it when Wakana sang it and I don’t like it now that Joelle sings it. It’s not a bad song at all and Joelle sounds fine to me but it’s just not my cup of tea. Next.

My long forgotten cloistered sleep: Now THIS on the other hand I have always loved. I still remember everyone hating Wakana's live version during YKL Vol.#9 but I enjoy it quite a lot. It's true that it's probably not the best she has ever sounded but her vocals here certainly don't warrant all the nasty comments she has received throughout the years for that performance. Of course, I am also obsessed with that WaKei combo!! And you know me, I have a weakness for "lalala"s so this has definitely always been among my favourite YKL songs. As for this performance, I think both Wakana and Joelle are trying are little too hard to emulate Emily Bindiger's timbre. I personally don't think Emily Bindiger has a particularly nice voice so if anyone tries to sound like her, it's always a slight downgrade in my opinion. I'll just say this, if you are one of the people who say that Wakana sounds like a chipmunk in her version, you'll have to say the same thing about Joelle(¬_¬) Long story short, I don't mind this version with Joelle and Keiko. Still very enjoyable. Will definitely be listening to it on repeat.

I swear: Probably one of my least favourite Keiko songs but this is a decent performance. I might even like this more than some of the previous live rendition since it's a bit more delicate(?) I think.

fiction: Another song I could live without…The chorus is solid but it's not one of those songs I'd ever actively listen to.

I reach for the sun: Forever sad that they made Joelle the lead of this song. Keiko does a better job in my opinion and I like the song quite a bit more than "I swear". Overall, the English section has probably been the weakest so far, at least for me. I actually ended up fast-forwarding through most of it.

MC: This MC is quite interesting since Yuki asks her singers to share a story of something they are taking a break from right now. To explain the background of this question, it's a reference to the title of this year's tour: Nihongo Fuin = Japanese Seal ("fuin" basically means to seal up something. You are excluding it/taking a break from it/quitting it/etc). Lino says that despite being a huge lover of the sea, she has been taking a break from going to the beach and swimming in the sea during this summer because it might affect her voice negatively. Yuki has a funny response to that because she says that most of her songs have never really had a summer vibe and actually don't work very well in a summer atmosphere but for some reason, they have ended up always holding their annual tour during the summer time. Keiko has stopped drinking her beloved lattes for the past three months to prioritise her water intake. Gladly, she has overcome the worst parts of quitting already and is getting used to water. Yuki admired her stoic nature. Yuriko would typically refrain from certain things in preparation for a live tour but this year she has completely forgotten about that. About two weeks ago, she decided to quit ice-cream but she only did it half-hardheartedly because it was so hot that she ended up eating it anyway. So yeah, this is a big fail and it's really a "story of NOT taking a break from something" XD Joelle has stopped waking up early. Usually, she is the type to rise together with the sun but in order to increase her sleeping hours, she will wake up later when she is on tour. A restful sleep will help her body heal up and improve her voice. rito has quit chewing gum (and stopped eating certain chewy foods such as squid) because it's bad for your jaw and facial muscles. Kaori has taken a break from watching the drama "Anithero" (for which YK is composing music, the main theme having been performed as the intro of this live). Seems like the song is haunting her a bit too much and the story is getting to her. So once the tour is over and she is no longer singing the song, she will have an easier time watching the episodes. Yuki agrees that the main theme is quite haunting. Especially when she hears one of the singers rehearsing in the dressing-room right before a performance. Eri doesn't really have anything to tell the audience but she and Yuki briefly talk about the difficulties of learning so many songs with coined words.

Gaia: Wow, what a lovely song. Instant like. Really adore Eri here!! Such gorgeous high notes.

Credens justitiam: What a great team-up with Keiko, Eri, Yuriko and Joelle. Eri sounds great together here with Keiko. Does Yuriko sound a bit off here? I don't know. Not 100% into some of her parts.

hepatica: First time actively listening to this song. Very beautiful and tender. I feel like some of Yuki's KnK work might have been inspired by this song. Some parts immediately made me think of "Seventh Heaven".

godsibb: Waaah! Yes!! Always a joy to listen to this song. Glad everyone is on stage for a powerful finale.

Alone: I knew I would love this Pandora Hearts medley. I always do and this one is no exception. Flawless start.

Bloody rabbit: Some squeaky parts at the beginning but overall, solid.

Contractor: OBSESSED. One word. Perfection. There's a reason this is the performance I'm using for this post. I'm forever a slave to Keiko's solo part XD. Also, Eri is such a queen here! So cool!

zodiacal sign: This is the song where you can really tell that they are taking great care of Kaori's condition. No strenuous movements at all. How funny is it to see Rie joining the girls in their little dance?! Cute!! Super fun performance as always.

open your heart: Ughh, I do not like this song at all. They did "Sweet Song"/"paradise regained" for most of the other performances. Would have killed to get either of those two instead of "open your heart". Obviously, "Sweet Song" would have been perfect. From what I heard, the final concert with Kaori in July had an amazing and heart-warming performance of "Sweet Song".

En.Prologue〜このとほかやわらかい: Wish I could grow to love this song. It deserves my love, I know it. But I just can't get into it. But hey, it's a cool performance, I can't deny that. During her solos, Kaori sounds a bit nasal in my opinion. Nothing that takes away from the performance but it's certainly noticeable (throughout the live to be honest - at least during the few songs where she has a substantial solo part. I think you can also hear it during the main MC. Either she had a minor cold that day or it's just a symptom of her pregnancy. Lowered nasal resonance is actually a very common thing for pregnant women.)

En.Parade: Beautiful. No notes.

En.蒼穹のファンファーレ: Solid. Not a huge fan of the song though.

[lanafofana]

Pumpkin Spiced Larceny

Pairing: Raphael x Tav (kinda), Shadowheart x Lae'zel (background)

Rating: Teen+ for swearing and implied heavy drinking and drunken behavior.

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: Modern College AU. Tav has a bit of a rough past but she's making strides on reforming the errant ways of her misspent youth. Until a friend in need sparks that familiar sticky fingered itch. It's fine though...It is!

Special love to @waterdeep-weavemoss @ladyofcrowsandcoffee Vi and Fangbanger for doing the brainwork of thinking up drinking game names 😘

AO3 Link to validate me with Kudos etc etc etc

Gratuitous self indulgent chicanery ahoy!

There was no getting around it. The pumpkin was fucking ugly. 

Tav stared at it, brows furrowed, frowning and trying to come up with something encouraging to say. Her companion sighed. 

“Just say it,” Shadowheart muttered, slumped in self pity on her side of the picnic bench. “It’s awful.” 

“No!” Tav blurted and then bit her lip when Shadowheart transferred her narrow eyed stare from the gourd in question to her. “I mean, it’s…” Adjectives, each more unhelpful than the last, flew through her mind. Hideous. Gross. Cursed. She tilted her head the other direction, hoping to stir a burst of inspiration from somewhere. A piece of pumpkin hanging on by sheer force of will abandoned its post and landed on the table with a wet splat. “It’s an honest effort.” 

Shadowheart gave her a disgusted look. “OH thanks!” She glared resentfully down at her project. “It’s a fucking piece of work. What am I gonna do?” With the dull handle of her blade she prodded the gaping maw of her savaged creation morosely. “The contest is in an hour and Lae’zel’s going to be mortified I submitted this in her name.” 

Lips pressed into a thin line Tav didn’t have a clue what to do either. “What was it supposed to be?” she asked delicately. 

Her friend rolled her eyes. “You can’t even tell? That’s just, ugh! Whatever, it’s supposed to be a mindflayer, from that game she’s always playing?” 

“Right.” Tav prodded a pile of pumpkin guts spilling out from the pumpkin monster’s maw, “and this?” 

“A brain?” 

“Okay,” said Tav gamely. Running through the options available to them in their limited time frame Tav puffed out her cheeks in thought before snapping her fingers. “Got it.” Her friend looked up hopefully. “Have you thought about hiding?” 

“Tav!” complained Shadowheart, threatening to throw a pile of juicy pumpkin guts at her face. 

Dodging away, Tav laughed. “I’m not joking! Your girlfriend scares me. But,” she added a hair more seriously. “Also, she like, loves you, right? Like love-love’s you. Like a lot. Have you considered she probably won’t even care?” 

Shadowheart scowled. “The prize is a year-pass to all those mixed martial arts fights they do at the colosseum. She’ll care.” 

Gathering up bits of pumpkin pulp into a pile Tav sighed and stepped away to throw it in the bin when an idea occurred to her and she froze. 

“We could…no. It’s a bad idea.” 

Shadowheart was out of her seat in an instant. “No, don’t do that, what were you going to say?” 

Gathering the abandoned implements of pumpkin carving Tav considered her words carefully. “It’s a really bad idea but…I think I know where we can steal one.” 

“Oh for the love of,” Shadowheart swore. “Is that always your first solution? Crime?” 

“Hey!” 

“Don’t ‘hey’ me. Well don’t stop there, go on, out with it. Where is this pumpkin and how do we not get caught and how do you know about it and how do you know–” 

“You remember that guy I told you about? Raphael?” 

Shadowheart’s hands come down hard on the picnic table with a loud smack. “The Dean’s son?” she hissed, horrified at the direction this is going. 

“Yeah,” confirms Tav grimly. She picked up the brutalized pumpkin and considered it with a frown before, deciding it wouldn't fit in the bin, putting it back down. “I know for a fact he carved one and I also know for a fact he won’t be submitting it.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” 

“He’s been using one of the art department’s studios after hours, I saw him working on it the nights I had life drawing. And last night I saw him having a row with his father in the quad by the Admin annex.” A twinge of something curled in Tav’s gut uncomfortably at the memory. “Anyway, he’s definitely not in the running anymore. We just have to break into the studio he’s been using and bing bang boom.” 

“Alright,” Shadowheart said slowly. She didn't look particularly confident but turned the plan, such as it was, over in her mind a moment. “Alright, fine, let's do it. How hard could it be?” 

Tav gave her a dirty look. 

“What?” 

“You just had to say it, didn't you?” At her friend's blank stare Tav sighed and rolled her eyes. “Nevermind, secure your Jack-O-Shit and let's go.” 

Pulling a cardboard box out from under the table Shadowheart dumped in her mangled project and the implements of carving she had used before another thought occurred to her, “How are we gonna break into the studio?”

Tapping away on her phone Tav glanced up with a smirk. “Don't worry about it, I know a guy.” 

Trailing after Tav, arms full of the awkward weight of her mistakes, Shadowheart tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible at that revelation. 

The pair hustled across campus to find Tav’s ‘contact’ leaned against the back of the Oskar Fevras Fine Arts building. When he heard them coming he looked up from his phone with a smile that was all teeth.

“Hello, my darling reprobates. Looking to spice up your Halloween with a little grand larceny?”

Shadowheart’s eyes nearly bugged out of her face but Tav only laughed, unconcerned. “Hardly, Astarion, we just need to get in.”

“Darling, I wasn't born yesterday,” Astarion chastised, giving them both a look over the frames of his trendy sunglasses. “The only reason someone wants to break into a studio is to steal. And since I'm reasonably certain no one at this institution has produced the next Mona Lisa I know you're not doing it for money. More's the pity.” He pocketed his phone and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “So, who are we ruining with this charming little heist?” 

“Plausible deniability,” sang Tav. “Keys, please! Besides, if we get caught and you're implicated, how could you ever manage to look at yourself in the mirror again?”

Astarion barked a laugh. “Very easily, I assure you. You're really not going to give me a teensy little clue?”

“It's for a good cause,” Tav assured him.

Astarion scoffed, disgusted. “Well there went my interest.” He heaved a long suffering sigh. “Very well.” Producing a ring of keys with a motion so fluid it looked like magic he pushed off from the wall and led them to the door. “Here you are then, please don't lose them. I am rather fond of being employed.” 

“Thanks, we won't be long.” 

Tav opened the door, ready to go in but Shadowheart hesitated. 

“You're not coming?”

“Aren't you adorable,” Astarion cooed. “Stick around and be spied at the scene of the crime? No, thank you, dear. I'll be at the costume contest. You can find me there whenever your sticky little fingers are done. Look for the vampire with the great hair. Ta, darlings.” 

The art building was a feat of modern art meets architecture. Its layout was similar to an old fortress with most of the building shaped around an open courtyard, a strange golden fountain at its center. The entire thing was a dismal dark grey stone that, while offering a sleek facade, leant itself to casting dramatic shadows no matter the time of day and it was through these shadows the pair passed on their quest. 

Empty of the usual bustle generated by the hundreds of students who normally traversed the place, their footsteps seemed to crack especially loudly against the stone beneath their feet, echoing off the imposing walls. 

“I’ve never been here before,” remarked Shadowheart, shifting her box onto her hip to dig her phone out of her bra. “It's very…prison-chic for an art department.” 

Tav snorted. “No need to wonder who influenced that decision. The school got the money from the Fevras’ family the year the Dean got appointed.” 

“Not a man fond of the arts I gather. Unfortunate for Raphael.”

“Yes, well. Fortunate for us because now you'll get a pumpkin that doesn't look like a chainsaw massacre victim. There's the entrance to the studio wing.” 

Somewhere the screech of a door swinging open and slamming shut rang out. The pair froze and stared at each other. 

“Probably just a professor,” whispered Tav. 

“We've got thirty minutes,” hissed Shadowheart, stuffing her phone back down her shirt and adjusting her grip on the box. 

The door was unlocked and mercifully quiet when they cracked it open to slip inside. The hallway they entered was long and dark with a single flickering light buzzing at the far end ominously. 

“Cozy,” they deadpanned in unison before catching each other's wry expressions and giggling. 

“The studio’s just around the corner up ahead, you stay here and keep watch.” Tav took the box from Shadowheart. “Text me if you need me, I won't take long.” 

So saying Tav moved down the hallway confidently, ignoring the way the empty windows on either side of her seemed to peer like glassy black eyes in the dark liminal space. 

Making a sharp right at the end of the hall she beelined for the door she sought, pulse kicking up a notch in her thrill for the goal. Setting the box at her feet Tav fiddled with the ring of keys, belatedly realizing that none of them were even a little bit helpfully labeled. 

“Damnit, Astarion,” she swore, trying one and then another. 

There had to be at least fifty keys, if she tried them all it was going to take forever. Swearing up a storm under her breath Tav knelt on the floor to get a better look at the shape of the keyhole and compare the multitude of options she still had to get through. Leaning a little to the side to try to catch the light from the flickering bulb that was buzzing in her peripheral, her knee hit the cardboard box and the tinkle of metal drew her attention. 

“Now there's a thought,” Tav reached into the box and withdrew a long thin knife with a speculative look in her eye. She’d jammed it in the keyhole and begun fiddling with it in earnest when her pocket buzzed. 

“Twenty minutes,” she was tersely informed. “What is taking so long?”

“We got a problem, Shads, the keys aren't labeled and there’s a million of them to go through.” 

“Hells! Well, you used to steal shit all the time right? Can you, I don't know, just pick the lock?”

“First of all, how criminal do you think my history is? Hurtful, honestly.” The lock clicked open and she got to her feet with relief. “Second of all, way ahead of you.”

“You.” 

Tav whirled around, her stomach doing an impressive job at jumping for her throat before plummeting clear down to her toes. 

Raphael, dressed to impress in an outfit that looked pulled right off a runway, his hair styled to within an inch of its life, stood barely two feet away, glaring down his nose at her. 

“Tav? What was that?” Shadowheart’s tinny voice seemed too loud in the silence. 

“Nothing!” It was hard to say what was moving faster, Tav’s racing heart or her mind. “Listen, you go ahead, I’ll meet you there,” Tav disconnected the call before her friend could respond.

In the flickering light Raphael’s brown eyes looked black and menacing. When he spoke, his aristocratic voice was cold with fury. “What,” he said through clenched teeth, “do you think you're doing?” 

While Tav grappled with how to answer that question his eyes caught on the box at her feet. Something strange crossed his face that the dim lighting made impossible to read. 

“What–” 

“I came for your pumpkin.” Tav wanted to swallow the words back as soon as they were out but a half formed idea had hatched in the back of her mind and she latched onto it with both hands. “For the pumpkin contest.”

Raphael was staring at her incredulously which was a step up from murderous rage in her estimation so she plowed on. 

“I want to make a deal with you.” 

That had certainly snared his attention. The Dean's son he may have been but Raphael's deals were legendary. Avoiding expulsion, passing a class you were otherwise guaranteed to tank, even acquiring merits of distinction you were in no way entitled to; the rising star of the drama department could arrange it all. For a price. 

Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, he looked from her to the mauled pumpkin peeking out from the box. “Usually, I’m the one offering a deal.” 

“That wasn't a no.”

He sneered. “Careful, thief. I could still call campus security. And wouldn't admissions love to hear how the infamous Taverna Featherfall had fallen back on old habits?”

Her pulse was pounding so hard she thought she might burst a vein. He knew her name? Worse still, he knew her history? How? Why?

“Or we could make a deal,” somehow her voice was not as thready as her nerves. “And forget this whole thing happened.” 

Scoffing, he raised a brow. “And what could you possibly have that I want?” 

That was, unfortunately, a very good point. Her burgeoning skill as an artist notwithstanding she was still just a poor student, subsisting on ramen and rice. So what did one offer the Devil of Dramatic Arts who had everything? Almost everything. Inspiration never tasted so sweet.

“I know about your fight with your father.”

His eyes immediately shuttered and he pulled out his phone. “I’m calling security.”

Lunging forward Tav’s hands closed around the device before he could do so much as turn the screen on. 

“Get off–”

“Listen,” she said. “I’m not trying to get involved in your weird family dynamics or anything but you don't seem like the type to just roll over and do what you're told.”

Raphael still looked furious but he'd stopped struggling for control of his phone. Where her fingers were locked around his, his skin burned hot. 

“I’ve seen you working on it for days, so let me submit your pumpkin, he'll definitely recognize it's your work. When it wins, because we both know it will, you'll have the satisfaction of proving him wrong.”

Jaw tight Raphael looked away from her, turning the idea around in his head. She’d never been this close to him before and he smelled good. Cherries, coffee, and the distinctive smoke of clove cigarettes. 

“I think not,” he said at last and Tav’s dread soared. She wasn't just letting her friend down, Raphael could get her expelled. “You’ll submit the pumpkin in my name.” His eyes, when they met hers, were intense. 

“But,” she began. 

“Think carefully, little thief.” 

“And what do I get out of this?”

“Besides the dubious honor of remaining an enrolled student at this institution?” Tav scowled but if anything that only seemed to charm him. “The winnings, presumably your goal from the start, are yours.” 

“Deal,” she said quickly, floored this entire exchange was working in her favor. Inside her pocket, her phone buzzed to life. “Fuck, the contest.” 

Shaking off her loosened grip Raphael checked the time on his own watch before briskly pushing past her into the unlocked studio. 

The pumpkin he had carved was a masterwork of the craft. Devils cavorted with fiendish glee, the hellish scene embellished with intricate borders of fantastical hellfire. He'd added paint, red and black, since she’d last spied it and applied what looked like actual gold leafing for a dramatic finish. 

“Wow,” she breathed, taking in the minute details hungrily. It was ludicrously unfair he should be as talented at visual arts as he was at performance. 

Taking Shadowheart’s attempt at carving out of the box to make space for his, Raphael preened. “Tick tock, little thief, you're running rather short on time.” 

“You aren't coming?”

Raphael’s disdain was an ugly twist on his beautiful face. “Why would I need a jumped up little nobody like you to submit my pumpkin if I could do it myself?” 

She hadn't actually given it any consideration but now she squinted at him in confusion. His face tightened. “My father has taken steps to ensure I am ‘more appropriately occupied’ for the duration of the little festival.” 

Tav frowned in sympathy. 

“Which is why you'll be the one to accept when I am, as you say, inevitably crowned the victor.”

The sympathy fractured sharply. “I’m what?” 

“You want the prize don't you?” 

Godsdammit she was going to kill Shadowheart. “Fine,” she grit out. Raphael smiled. 

Pumpkin in hand and the clock winding down Tav hustled out of the art building, phone sandwiched between her shoulder and ear. 

“Where are you?” Shadowheart demanded when she answered. “They're about to start judging!”

“I have good news and bad news but then more good news after that.”

“Tav, we do not have time for–”

“I have the pumpkin and I’m en route. See? Good news! Bad news, I need you to change the entrant name on the participant form to Raphael Cania.” Shadowheart made a noise but Tav plowed on, “but the prize is still all yours if –when– we win.” Reaching the edge of the mini Harvest festival set up behind the greenhouses Tav paused to catch her breath. “I'm close, change the name, I’ll see you in a second.” 

“Tav!” 

Disconnecting the call, Tav craned her neck to get a lock on where the pumpkin carving contest was being held. The expanse of carefully maintained lawn, ubiquitously dubbed “the green” was a hive of autumnal aesthetic activity. Students and professors alike milled around homemade stands that offered caramel apples and on theme activities like ‘gourd bowling’ and face painting. 

Weaving through the crowd the air smelled ripe with hay, apple pie, and kettle corn. 

“Tav! Over here!” 

Shadowheart, flanked by their friends Karlach and Wyll, burst through a gap in the swarm of bodies. Taking the pumpkin and passing it off to Karlach Shadowheart rounded on her friend critically. 

“We're going to have to talk about this habit of yours of hanging up on me. What happened?” 

Tav followed her friends to the tent where everyone's pumpkin carvings were being displayed and judged and sank onto a decorative hay bale with a groan. “Raphael.”

“He caught you?” Wyll’s eyebrows were arched up to his hairline. “Helm Almighty!”

“He did,” confirmed Tav. “We made a deal.” 

Her friends groaned in unison.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Don't be so dramatic. It’s not like I had to sell my soul or anything.” She coughed. “Now who’s up for a round of ‘Which Witch is Which’?” 

“They haven't finished setting it up,” said Shadowheart. “Let’s start with ‘Were of the Dog’.”

“You only want to start there cause they're serving Hallowine,” accused Wyll with a laugh. “You'll be useless for the rest of the night.” 

Shadowheart stuck out her tongue but didn't deny it. 

Karlach reappeared from the Jack-O-Lantern tent. “Judging results should be announced in an hour.” She smacked her hands together and rubbed them with maniacal glee. “Now, who am I drinking under the table? Let’s start with Infernal Imbibing!”

For the next hour the troupe of friends managed to hit every single drinking game challenge with mixed success. As predicted, stomach sloshing with the mulled cider dubbed ‘Hallowine’ Shadowheart was quickly relegated to the sidelines to offer her particular brand of acerbic constructive criticism to their opponents. 

“It's heckling,” deadpanned Tav, vision swimming a bit after winning a round at ‘Graveyard’. 

“It's unethical,” tried Wyll, leaning heavily on Karlach’s shoulder after being trounced thoroughly in ‘Spectator, Spirits and Spooks’. 

“It’s Hallowfest!” Cheered Karlach, wearing a lopsided paper crown she'd picked up from the booth running the tarot card drinking game ‘Kings’. 

“It is time to drink water,” said Lae’zel, only moderately successful at keeping her stoically stern expression in place when she was swarmed by her drunk friends. “They are announcing the winners of the Jack-O–”

“Shit!” Tav staggered before regaining her balance and beelining for the tent in question. 

With perfect timing Tav burst into the tent just as the announcer was declaring Raphael’s victory. Shoving her way past the small throng of participants she reached the podium on the tiny makeshift stage and collected her reward to the resounding cheers of her group of fools. 

“Miss Featherfall,” a deep voice growled behind her that sent a bolt of ice straight through her chest. 

“Dean Cania,” she greeted, blood and alcohol pounding so fast through her veins she could feel her heartbeat in her teeth. 

“I thought I was well acquainted with all my son's closest friends.” The smile that curved his mouth wasn't kind. “Imagine my surprise then, when it was not Haarlep nor Korrilla that arrived to submit his little art project and collect the reward in his absence.”

“And what a regrettable absence it is,” said Tav, riled out of her drunken complacency with the aura of threat that oozed from the Dean. “Wouldn't you say, sir?”

“Regrettable,” he sounded amused. “You young people do have such opinions. A word of advice, Miss Featherfall, tread carefully where my son is concerned.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're a clever girl,” the words on his tongue sounded anything but complimentary. “You'll figure it out.”

Without another word or glance the Dean turned and left.

“What was that about?” Karlach sounded three seconds away from committing a violent crime.

Shaking her head with a helpless shrug Tav didn't have an answer. Whatever she may have witnessed of the fight between Raphael and his father the other night she wondered if it was just the tip of the iceberg. “Shads,” she said, waving the prized certificate. “I believe you have a girlfriend to woo.”

“Cheers,” Shadowheart squeezed her in a tight hug, “Give me the keys, I’ll find Astarion for you.”

“Gale texted and said they're finally opening the ‘Which Witch is Witch’, Wyll and I are headed over, you coming?”

Tav was about to agree when she caught the faint scent of cherries and clove. “I’ll just be a sec, I’m gonna see what to do about the pumpkin you guys go ahead.”

Her friends dispersed and Tav wandered her way through the emptying tent to where the carved pumpkins were arranged in a neat row on a line of tables.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, sidling up to a figure in a sharp suit, distinctive features obscured with a fedora and mask. Inspecting his outfit a little more she huffed a laugh, “clean up at the costume contest too, Al Capone?”

Raphael tilted his head, still staring at his carved pumpkin. “Where would Bonnie be without her Clyde?”

Tav’s stomach flipped in an annoying way. Reminding herself he was probably just making sure she did as they agreed upon rang hollow when she remembered the winners of the festival contests were being published in the school paper.

“Right. Well,” she coughed. “Met your father.”

Raphael hummed.

“Not a very warm man.”

For some reason Raphael found this immensely funny and he laughed. “No,” he agreed. “That he is not.”

“Well anyway,” she said, turning to go. “Congratulations on your win. Whatever that means to you.”

Raphael didn't answer but turned his stare from the gourd in question to pin her in place. Behind the mask his eyes glittered.

The pull of her insatiable curiosity felt like it was burning a hole in her belly. “Why are you here, Raphael?”

“Why are you?”

I smelled your cologne. “Just wanted another look at the award winning Jack-O-Lantern. Who knew a performance artist could be so skilled with his hands.” She leered at him but Raphael rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Life is a stage, wouldn't it follow that every action was a performance?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “And any performance worth doing is worth doing exceptionally.”

“And a philosophizer too? My my. You're welcome by the way.”

“For?”

“Just because I benefited doesn't mean I didn't also do you a favor here.”

Scoffing Raphael removed his mask to give her a sardonic look. “I don't thank people for completing deals as agreed upon.”

“I don't think you're in the habit of thanking anyone. Deal or not.”

“An astute assumption.”

“Then it's a good thing I’m here to bully that stick out of your ass. Get it? Because ass-umption? Makes an ass–”

Raphael peered at her closely. “You're drunk.”

“C’mon, just a teensy little thank you?”

“No.”

“Well then what's my prize? You got some kind of mind game power play win over your father, Shads got to spoil her scary girlfriend, and Lae’zel got the MMA season pass of the, um, season,” she finished lamely. Frowning down at her hands she noticed a loose thread and picked at it.

A sigh from her companion drew her attention and this time when she looked up into his face Tav was struck by how strange he looked. A solitary figure backlit by the glow of a couple dozen flickering artificial candles, pumpkins with wide open maws leering at her from his shadow. If it was anyone else she might have called him sad or tired but all she could think was how ethereal he looked surrounded by fire.

Too much Hallowine, she thought to herself, dragging her dry tongue along her teeth.

Turning to leave, Tav didn't expect Raphael's hand, warm and large, to snag hers from where it worried the loose thread of her jacket.

Nor did she anticipate when that same hand tugged her close, to the source of the decadent scent of cherry and coffee cologne.

“What prize would suit my hero in shining armor then?” Raphael’s voice was dark and smooth as chocolate. Tav’s lungs stuttered and stalled in her chest.

Later Tav wouldn't be able to say who had moved first, her alcohol soaked brain locking away those semantics from even herself. But she would forever recall, with absolute clarity, that Raphael’s eyes had reflected the same startled surprise she had felt a second before their lips had met.

He kissed like an actor, which wasn't to say he was necessarily bad, though only because she was, in general, a magnanimously generous person. No, he kissed like he’d been stage directed through it. His head was at a strange angle, his hands on her face felt awkward and his lips felt stiff. For the outside observer it was probably grade A entertainment.

Locking her hands around his wrists and tugging them down to her waist, she felt a rush of something hot spark alive at the noise he made in the back of his throat. Sliding one hand back up his chest, over the wild gallop of his runaway pulse in his neck, to grasp his chin, Tav tugged him into an angle that allowed her to slide her tongue along his with ease. He tasted like cinnamon whiskey.

Tiamat’s Deck of Many Things, her brain supplied innocuously. At least if he rolled the dice at that drinking game she should consider herself lucky he didn't taste of pickle juice.

When they parted it was difficult to tell who was more dazed.

Adjusting his fedora Raphael gave her an intense look before gently pushing her away. The place where his hands had rested on her hips felt cold in the absence of his touch. “Have a good evening, Taverna. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Tav swayed for a moment before stepping away, the weird moment shattering under his smug gaze. An affectation of cool stoicism widened the trench between them once more.

Leaving the tent, she could have sworn she heard a low voice murmur, “thank you,” but when she glanced back he was gone.

Tag list homies: @12thhouse-sun @dr-demi-bee @spooky-lil-bee @marlowethebard

That's All Folks

If I forgot you drop me a comment and I'll amend my list post haste! 🎃

Divider from The Cutest Grotto!

[alaskan-wallflower]

i’m tired and blasting outsiders so here’s my explaination for what i see whenever one of them sings

With brody it’s kinda like…deep red? I don’t know why, it’s just a deep red. Warmer tones. The only cool color is like a navyish blue. It’s a spectrum honestly-it can kinda be a toss up? It really depends but usually it’s a nice shade of seeping red and navy blue with some warmer tones (yellows and oranges) in there as well. riffs are kinda fun because it’s like…i don’t know how to describe it but it’s like each note is an individual ring and it’s kinda like this gradient effect between either red and blue or red and yellow. It really depends. It kinda gets that silvery misty look with some of the higher notes.

Jason was kinda funny because if I didn’t have synesthesia I wouldn’t guess his voice would be a dark color but it’s like…kinda neon? Y’know how you watch those neon painting videos? That’s kinda what it’s like. Usually it’s uber bright colors on a black background. Kinda like bioluminescent light in a way. It sounds uglier than it is but trust me-it’s kinda got a more splashy feel to it. Like just splashes of chan and magenta against the black background. I dunno how to describe it lol

With Brent it’s kinda more woodsy? Shades of green and brown-kinda more earthy in a way. It’s kinda like going through the woods at sunset. Golden shimmering through leaves and lighting up a path iagaknst brown dirt in a way. It sounds weird but y’know. Even in his more aggressive tones it’s still that woodsy, earthy feeling. It’s never really dull but it’s never too bright. Like ai said it’s like a forest at sunset where the gold is just barely peeking through the green leaves. It’s prettier in retrospect.

Sky’s got a bit more f an orange/beige pallets? Like it’s kinda desert like in a way. sjust sandy and earthy-not quite in the same way as Brent but y’know-It’s also got some lavenders and violets in there? Like it really depends with him on the notes he’s singing but usually his voice is a rustic orange color with swirls of beige or tan and little flecks of purple. Think desert like with some purple in there. Sometimes the brown can kinda fade into a yellowish color; or a more muted gold. Just sandy colors. Desert hues.

Josh is purple. Alllll purple with some gold. Little Brother is SUCH a fun experience because it literally has such a strong grape purple to it and it just slowly bursts into more vibrant purples. It never goes beyond say a violet? But if randhes in spectrum. There can be some very dark red-darker than Brody’s voice but definitely still visibly red-or well, reddish pink. But it can also have little bits of gold or yellow. It’s like if you were stuck in grape jelly or something and the only thing visible was sunlight. It’s like that. Just smooth. Sometimes it can be midnight blue too but usually it’s shades of purple or something.

I don’t egg to hear much of Daryl’s voice but it’s definitely some form of yellowish brown. Not like Sky…think more sunrise colors. Pale. Sometimes muted. It really depends. Now again there’s not much audio I’ve heard of Daryl but he definitely has like dark orange/yellow vocals. Sprinkle a bit of sort of denim blue in there for good measure and boom. Sometimes he can have bursts of bright colors like bright pinkish red or bright orange but other than that it’s kinda hard to tell with such little audio lol

Emma’s all purples and pinks to me. Mostly light purples and pinks and kinda bubbly in a way? Like I just picture bubbles lol-white bubbles on a purple and pink gradient background kinda just floating around. During I Can Talk To You All Night it kinda also leads into a royal blue. But for the majority it tends to be pink and purple and kinda bubbly lol-kinda giving Sylveon vibes if I say so.

Anyway. I know this probably makes me sound high off my ass but figured it was worth a share.

[voxofthevoid]

JJK Teasers: September 2024

Still doing this, though I kinda forgot about it last month after the initial post. Oops. Once again, here are ~200 (unedited) words each from the JJK updates intended for this month.

Ch. 10 of (let me be clear) every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered

“Who’s Suguru?”

Gojou mouth clicks shut; his eyes being hidden doesn’t stop his whole face from radiating shock. Yuuji curls his hand into fists on either side of his body and waits, viciously patient. Yuuji imagined this a lot. These last three weeks, without even a single rambling message to indicate Gojou was still alive, Yuuji has had plenty of time to cook up all sorts of scenarios. What else could he do? The first week, he trained until he passed out, but that kept taking longer and longer and longer, until twenty-four hours passed with Yuuji’s mind still stubbornly online, and he’d wondered, once or twice, if that was Sukuna’s doing somehow, and then he’d somehow started wondering if Gojou was ever going to come back, if Yuuji was going to rot in this gilded cage until he starved and died, and then he’d thankfully passed out on the ground, waking up freezing and miserable the next morning without a cold or even a bruise to show for his stupidity.

After that, he tried to keep his imagination constrained to conversations. Sometimes, he screamed. Sometimes, he apologized. He knew he wouldn’t do either.

When he slept, the dreams were almost a solace. The blood and the bodies were warmer than his bed.

Even Sukuna’s amusement was just dull background noise after a point.

“He…was someone I used to know,” Gojou says finally, the silence only louder for the breaking. “It’s not important.”

Liar, Yuuji doesn’t say.

He asks, “When you fuck me, are you thinking of him?”

Ch. 3 of i can offer you a black-lit paradise

“Taking it slow isn’t always a good thing, Yuuji,” says Gojou. The overlapping fingers on Megumi’s hips turn bruising, making him hiss. “But I guess you wouldn’t know that. Here, I’ll show you.”

“Wait—” is all Megumi manages to say before he’s forced down.

White-hot sensation tears through his body, concentrated pulses of it lashing at his asshole and clawing up and up and up, till he’s choking on a supernova. Gojou’s cock feels like a solid spear of fire, the flesh around it scorched raw.

“—was too much, sensei,” he hears, the voice soft and close. “Are you okay? Fushiguro?”

“M’fine,” Megumi grits out, prying his eyes open only to be immediately assailed by cow-eyed concern. “Stop it.”

Itadori blinks. “Stop what?”

“Stop,” Megumi says carefully, trying to focus past the screaming hurt in his lower half, “looking at me like that.”

Itadori blinks again. “Like…what?”

“Like I’m going to break!” Megumi snaps.

For a moment, Itadori looks taken aback. Then he grins, inexplicably. “That’s just like you, Fushiguro.”

“A bit of dick isn’t going to change who he is.” Gojou’s the one who answers, the words soaked in mirth. “And you should know that very well, Yuuji.”

What the hell does—

Itadori laughs, ducking his head a bit. “I do, I do. Sorry, Fushiguro. Didn’t mean to make you self-conscious.”

Ch. 3 of your resistance, prophetic self-destruction

“You look so miserable, you poor thing,” Gojou murmurs, voice so soft that Yuuji can’t tell whether it’s mockery or sympathy; he wants nothing do to with either. “What do you want from me, Yuuji?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuji lies. But his mouth’s got other ideas, adding in a mortifyingly small voice, “I like you, sensei.”

“Do you?” Gojou asks, tone painfully neutral. “Or do you just want to fuck me?”

Yuuji raises his eyes from the wetly clumped white hair at Gojou’s navel to glare at his face. “What kind of a question is that? Why the hell can’t it be both?”

Gojou just looks unreasonably amused. “Sure, it could be. But at your age, it’s very easy to confuse this”—a tap his chest, right over his heart, and then a hand delving under the water to curl around Yuuji’s limp dick, squeezing once—“with this.”

Yuuji hates his body reacts even to that cruel touch.

“Stop that,” he snaps, curling both hands on the edges of the tub so he won’t do something stupid like try and strangle Gojou. “I’m dumb but not that dumb.”

“Oh, you’re no fool, Itadori Yuuji,” Gojou says, tongue curling softly around the syllables of Yuuji’s full name with a gravity that never fails to fill his spine with molten lead. “But you are very young and full of life—and planning to die that way, aren’t you?”

Yuuji’s whole body goes cold. “What?”

Gojou’s still smiling. “Don’t you want you die, Yuuji?”

Ch.2 of (this is also part of the story) how the story changes

“Gojou-san?” Nanami calls.

Satoru and Yuuji are in perfectly respectable positions, standing close together but with a good foot of space between their bodies, when Nanami and Shouko reach the bottom of the stairs.

They both promptly freeze.

Beside him, Yuuji makes a noise.

“Kento-kun, Shouko-chan,” he practically gasps, “you’ve grown so much.”

Satoru turns to stare incredulously at Yuuji.

He gets his hair yanked and told he’s grown a bit, all with a gently mocking air that no amount of fondness could hide, but these two get—

Well, apparently, they get Yuuji pulling them into a hug they’re too stunned to reciprocate—or resist.

Even with the Six Eyes, Satoru can only barely see Yuuji move. Isn’t that wonderfully terrifying?

Yuuji releases his frozen victims fairly quickly, but only so he can take Nanami by the shoulders. He and Yuuji are nearly the same height—a fact which seems to delight Yuuji.

“You’ve really changed!” Yuuji says, and unless Satoru’s ears are betraying him, that’s pure glee in his voice. “You’re wearing a suit. And your hair. This is adorable.”

Adorable, Satoru mouths to himself.

Shouko’s wide eyes meet his for a fleeting second before she returns to staring at Nanami and Yuuji in evident fascination.

And Nanami—

Nanami looks catatonic.

It’s that blank-eyed stare over a distinct blush that snaps Satoru out of it. “Yuuji, you’re breaking him.”

[napakmahal]

hiro x male reader...... I JSUT WANT MORE BOYKSISER HIRO FIC, THERES SO LITTLE OF THEM. /lh

heres an idea: roller rink date. go wild

“What size shoe do you wear?” You leaned over the counter to look at all the different skate sizes with your hand readily holding onto your wallet.

“A seven.” Hiro said tightly, trying to hide how excited he actually was. Having a boyfriend was cool, but having one that could drive AND pay for stuff on his own was even cooler. You paid the guy a twenty to rent both pairs for an hour and a half.

The actual rink was dark with colorful lights dancing around it and dull pop song remix’s playing in the background. Groups of friends blocking the flow of traffic to take pictures, others holding onto the wall for dear life, and smaller kids using the walkers to help them skate. When you suggested you go skating Hiro was a bit nervous. He didn’t skate, like at all. During winter at the San Fransokyo center ice skating rink he and his aunt were the ones grabbing onto the wall and yanking each other down.

But you wanted to go skating, and Hiro was desperate to at least try and like everything you liked.

When you two stood up, Hiro’s lack of ability to skate was really coming through. Sure it was easier than ice skating because it had four wheels but he still struggled.

His eyebrows furrowed with slight frustration. How the hell did Gogo do this?

You turned to see your boyfriend struggling to even make it off the carpeted floor and onto the actual rink. Before he could fall backwards you grabbed onto his hand and squeezed it. “Do you…know how to skate?”

Hiro laughed nervously. “I mean not completely.”

You laughed in the addicting way that made Hiro feel like his brain was melting down his spine. You laced your arm through your boyfriends and slowly skated with him. “ Okay, slow. We’ll start slow.”

Skating like he was a baby who needed to learn how to walk felt a little awkward but he liked how close he was to you. While skating you passed by another couple doing the exact same thing. Except he had his free hand in her back pocket. You two were already dating yet it felt like he was still doing everything he possibly could to try and impress you. He unhooked his arm from yours and carefully slid it into your back pocket.

“You tryn’ to feel me up, Hamada?” You raised your eyebrows, kinda shocked at his boldness. Hiro was loud and a force to be reckoned with, but you knew he was also incredibly shy.

His face filled with panic, “Oh, I-I’m sorry. Is-is that–like– bad?”

You laughed again. For a second Hiro was afraid you were laughing at him and technically you were. But not for the same reasons as he thought. You pulled him over to the wall of the rink and pressed a semi-aggressive kiss to the center of his forehead.

Hiro’s face scrunched and a big smile was plastered across his face as you squished his face in your hands. When you removed your lips from his forehead, you swooped down and pressed an equally as aggressive kiss to his lips.

Hiro thought his spinal fluid was leaking. You two have kissed before but he got the same feeling from it as he did every other time. Surreal and almost like those first kiss reactions you see in those enemies to lovers movies. When the guy kisses the girl mid argument and she has a look of pure stun on her face.

You laced your fingers through his and pulled him away from the wall so you could continue skating. “You coming or not?”

“Y-yeah, I’m coming.” He snapped out of it and did his best to skate back up to your side when he felt you put your hand in his back pocket.

[mysteroads]

So, fast background: It still bugs me a bit that Decay isn't Tomura Shigaraki's natural quirk.😔 There were some great parallels between him and Eri that I really liked. However, I adapted!🎉 And now I'm going to share! 'Cause that's what you do on this hellsite!😈 Mwhaha! Enjoy this short excerpt from my fic Indomitable Will. (Context: Tomura's decided to put AFO down for good and is deep-diving KingdomHearts style, and interacting with stolen quirk vestiges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*>

This quirk looked so broken. Hunched shoulders, too skinny with a jutting collarbone and visible ribs, badly cut hair all clumpy and unkempt, knobby fingers covering its face like a weeping angel. Its edges were in a constant state of fraying. 

Or Decaying.

“You caused me a lot of problems, you know,” he told it quietly. The quirk huddled in on itself even more, trembling from head to toe. “My family, my dog, my favorite controller… all of them dust. But it’s not like you had a choice either. You didn’t pick me. You weren’t even whole. But… looking back, I think you at least tried your best to keep me safe.”

The trembling didn’t stop, but the covered face turned toward him.

“Half of the problem was me. I was always fighting you, subconsciously rejecting you. I mean, kinda obvious why, but it didn’t really help me. You know what, though?” And now Tomura smiled again, the memory of Deika City still a shining moment for him. “We were pretty badass once we got in sync.”

The quirk stood up straight, lowering its fingers enough to peer at him with dull eyes the same color as his. 

Tomura held out his free hand. “This time, let’s choose each other. I want you. No one fits me better than you. We’re two pieces broken by the same hand, two things reshaped to become weapons and not allowed to become more. No one understands us better than we do. Please, be my partner again?”

Decay skipped shaking his hand and instead threw itself at him, wrapping twiggy arms around his neck and pressing its face against his chest. Tomura bit his lip so he didn’t make any more pathetic noises and hugged his quirk as tightly as he could. “I missed you,” he admitted. “Thank you.” 

A breath, then Decay slipped back inside him, settling under his skin like a contented cat. And it didn’t itch at all.

Tomura felt whole for the first time in months. 

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Heyy, I’ve been reading your wonderful one piece works for a while — and I couldn’t stop wondering how are you actually doing those magnificent headers?

Like… hello? The great quality, with additional 3D-alike details I could catch by my eyes? I got only Ibis Paint X on mobile, since I’m only a young man that literally two months ago went on a life-time ‘adventure’ of living alone in a small apartment.

In short — I got no money to pay for additional graphics/drawing programs, not yet at least

Hello!

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy my writing - I'm curious to know what's your favorite piece / part? Also I'm so happy you like my headers? Makes it feel worth it to spend time on them! :D

I have excellent news for you, I used a mix of Canva and Photopea. They're both FREE!

I'll be explaining the process for making these two kinda? The full tutorial is below the cut, to be courteous to the other folks, hope you don't mind?

Though I am hearing that Canva has given people some grief. But Photopea is just *chefs kiss*

If you've ever used photoshop, Photopea is essentially a free photoshop, and it even has the automation tools! An absolute lifesaver when you have multiple layers you want to export (but that's for larger projects not this)

I'm going to assume you have basic knowledge of layers in digital drawing programs for this. If anything isn't clear: ask me, I'll clarify!

//-------------------------------------------------

My General Process is:

Search for official art / images

bring it into canva / photopea

crop / arrange images to match the dimensions

select a thematic color that is associated with the character

separate the foreground from the background

mess around and test things until they work

//--------------------------------------------------

Given "Louder than Words" is the latest one I've made, I'll start with the process for it.

Dimensions: 3000 x 1055 px dpi: 96

//-------------------------------------------

Let's Get Crackin'

Alright let's grab some official art so we're not using any fanart without the artist's permission

I try to pick images that feel relevant enough to what I'm trying to make. For example: the image for the Matching banner shows the ASCE tattoo which is super important in that fic

2. Let's arrange them onto a banner where each individual image has the same/similar dimensions to the rest

That's probably part of why you like these. To a certain extent they have similar dimensions, so they have a uniformity that's pleasing to the eye! (It's not perfect because I threw perfectionism to the wind because this is tumblr not my portfolio) Tip: if you have 3 images and only 2 that have similar dimensions, and the 3rd one can't be cropped logically: but the one that's a different aspect ratio in the middle!

3. lets arrange them in such a way that the borders all feel like they're the same/equal width/thickness

you might find that you have to shrink some images for this, that's fine.

ALTERNATIVELY: if you're going with one image crop it so it's just the relevant info and it matches the dimensions (3000 x 1055 px)

We have our base! Now let's add some color, and direct the viewer's eye together!

4. pick out a color that you think matches your character / vibe - that color is going to be your background Given I'm making an Ace banner: orange is the color I'm going with

I went and named my layers for this lol. The numbers represent the opacity, and they aren't important. I just kept changing the opacity until I liked the way things looks. But here's the secret to the 3D feel:

Motionblur (+ moving it about)

Separating the foreground and background and dulling out the background.

I'm going to show you my process so you can see the effects, but first let's give you some quick skills:

//------------------------------------

SKILLS / THINGS I THINK ARE HELPFUL

//------- Select Similar

magic wand -> select something -> right-click -> select similar This works best when you have high contrast images (like manga panels that are black and white). You can select the black or the white areas. Depending on what works better for you. TIP! Invert selections with ctrl + i Say you know that you want to select everything but Ace's face in the second panel. Select his face with the magic wand then ctrl + i, and that's the only thing NOT selected

TIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please, please, please, duplicate your original image and work on the duplicate layer. This helps you SO much. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIP! Check your selection tolerance! This could be why too little, or too much is being selected.

//------- The Move Tool

Shortcut key: v While the move tool is active, you can nudge the stuff on whatever layer with your arrow keys Shift + arrow key = 10 px move (generally)

//------- Layer Locking

1- Layer Blending Mode (see Overlay vs Multiply vs Normal) for how this can affect results) 2- Opacity: how see through it is / isn't 3- Lock Transparency (it's the little checker board) 4- Lock Layer (looks like a lock) 5- Lock icon that appears when anything on the layer has been locked More on 3 Lock Transparency: You can only paint on / modify what's on that layer. You CANNOT add anything to any area that is already transparent Here's a demo of what you can do with this power:

Here's the original Image - notice how it's just the lineart with a transparent background.

It's powerful: abuse it

//------- Overlay vs Multiply vs Normal

I think seeing this is the best way to visualize how different modes can affect the color.

//--------------------------------

Back to the Tutorial

!!I IMPORTANT NOTE !!

Please play around with the opacity slider to figure out what opacity works best for you on the multiple different layers we're about to make / work with. It's up to your own style to figure this out. Next: please feel free to not follow all of it. Add more layers, add less layers, take the base principles and go wild! :D

5. Separate the lineart from the background and save it as a new layer 6. Duplicate it and set it to overlay, or set it to overlay immediately

7. Duplicate that lineart layer twice and set the blending mode to overlay 8. lock transparency on the top one and change it to be a dark grey 9. Apply motion blur to both:

Main menu bar -> Filter -> Motion Blur I made it so that the grey layer was blurrier than the black layer

10. More them around a little to give it a "3D effect" as you called it.

It creates shadows under the lines - I was aiming for an effect similar to chromatic aberration (chromatic aberration is a valid way to add punch to your stuff too!)

So this is what things look like now - painful, but let's keep going

11. Duplicate the ORIGINAL / BASE lineart layer, that you DID not apply motion blur to -> set the blend mode to multiply (reduce opacity for it to actually take effect)

okay that's less painful here's what the layers look like right now:

let's bring more focus to Ace's face, and push the background farther away:

12. Use the magic wand tool to quickly select large areas of the faces / focal area / foreground and the lasso tool to refine things

TIP! Hold shift + click -> add to selection Hold Alt + click -> subtract from selection

13. On a new layer with blending mode -> lighten, fill that selection to be white

If you look at it, you'll notice that it is ALREADY starting to draw our attention to his face, but the background is kinda aggressive, so let's dim that down

TIP! Right-click on the gradient tool to find the paint-bucket tool

TIP! Sample All Layers: Turning this option off makes it so that you only work with the content on THAT specific layer. Turning it on makes it so that it is working while taking all other layers into consideration.

14. ctrl + click on the "white foreground" layer to select the contents of that specific layer (pink thing is your mouse)

15. ctrl + i to invert selection and ON A NEW LAYER (layer mode -> multiply) fill that with a complementary color

16. I did one last thing where I took the original base (before we separated the lineart) and added it to the very top and played with the opacity to get something less in your face (layer blend mode was set to NORMAL)

And that's it!

More considerations that I take:

I want the banner to be "thin" or not square, so it doesn't take up too much screen real estate on people's devices

I don't want readers having to scroll too much to get to my writing (which is the whole point of the post, let's not waste their time making them look for things)

I want the banner content to be relevant enough?

ie: with Matching: I wanted the ASCE tattoo to be visible. With matching I wanted Ace to not look too happy in some of them.

I'm also trying to avoid spoilers, I hated getting things spoiled, so I'm trying to be careful that the images I pick don't spoil anything really.

Congrats on starting life on your own! I did that whole living by myself thing too! Tip: keep the pantry stocked with lentils, beans, pastas, baking essentials, rice. They really come in a clutch when you're hungry.