#the whole world agrees but not my blood tests

[divorcedwife]

it's kinda funny that i have all the symptoms of anemia to the point where my doctor prescribed blood tests to check but also iron right away cause it was that obvious just on physical exam, but then i don't even have anemia. im a poser for anemia

[theballadofharkness]

Housewarming

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: At your housewarming party, Agatha becomes overtaken with jealousy when she overhears Jen and Alice talking about how they wished it was them welcoming you into their home, not her.

Word Count: 2.3K

The cottage was buzzing with activity. Boxes were stacked high, the soft hum of chatter filling the air as Jen, Alice, Lilia, and Billy all pitched in to help you move into Agatha’s home. It wasn’t a huge house, but it felt like a world of its own, tucked away from the chaos of the outside world. It was warm, welcoming, and full of the kind of magic that only Agatha Harkness could bring. And now, it was even more of a home with you in it.

Agatha was lounging in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand, while Billy sat at the counter, animatedly talking about his boyfriend’s latest driving test failure. He was always full of energy, and Agatha let him carry the conversation. For the most part, she was content to listen, her attention drifting from him to you. You were in the living room with Lilia, talking about her newest leggings designs, the quirky side hustle she’d been building. Your laughter rang out in the space, warm and infectious, and Agatha felt something stir in her chest every time she heard it.

It had been a few years now that you and Agatha had been together. You’d been through a lot—dark spells, moments of chaos, and quiet days tucked away in this very house, but now, with you officially moving in, Agatha was feeling a kind of protectiveness she hadn’t quite anticipated. Her feelings for you had always been intense, but living with you was a whole new experience. It made everything feel more real.

Billy’s voice cut through her thoughts. "…and then he showed up at my place holding the steering wheel in his hands, I’m still processing it, but you know how he is!"

Agatha couldn’t help but chuckle. Billy was a ball of energy, and she did enjoy his stories, but she was distracted now. Her eyes flicked back to you. You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked underneath you, looking utterly at ease with Lilia as they shared a laugh over some joke Agatha didn’t catch. You looked so at home here, and that feeling both thrilled her and made her want to keep you close.

Then she heard Jen’s voice from across the room. She had been sitting with Alice, both of them sipping wine and quietly observing the chaos of the move. Jen’s words made Agatha freeze, her grip tightening around her glass.

"She’s absolutely stunning, though, right?" Jen said, her voice light and teasing. "I mean, when I first met her, I thought for sure she was going to be this… intimidating figure, like one of those powerful, unapproachable types. But no, she’s just so sweet and… beautiful."

"Yeah, she’s gorgeous," Alice agreed, the admiration evident in her tone. "And honestly, I don’t get it. How does Agatha, the witch killer, land someone like her? Surely, she’s going to end up walking away one day. I mean, how could she not?”

Jen let out a soft laugh, but there was an edge to it, a kind of flirtation that made Agatha’s blood boil. "When I first met her, I’ll admit it… I was a little jealous. I wanted her all to myself. I could just tell she had that something."

"Same," Alice admitted, her voice light and casual, but Agatha caught the undercurrent of truth in her words. "I was actually thinking about asking for her number, you know? She’s just so easy to be around. But I didn’t. I figured it was too obvious. The way she looks at Agatha, it’s… different."

The words hit Agatha like a slap. She’s mine, she thought, her teeth clenching involuntarily. That sharp, possessive instinct surged inside her, mixing with the jealousy she didn’t like to admit was there. She wasn’t used to feeling like this—this insecure, this vulnerable. It unsettled her.

Her gaze snapped back to you. You were sitting on the couch, still talking to Lilia, completely unaware of the conversation happening behind your back. Agatha’s mind raced with thoughts of you and what Jen and Alice had said. The idea that someone else—anyone else—could want you, that they could see the same softness in you that she did, made her blood run cold. She had to remind herself. You’re hers.

She wasn’t going to stand here listening to this. Not when they were talking about you like that, like they could take you away from her. Agatha stood abruptly, cutting Billy off mid-sentence, her glass of wine abandoned on the counter. Without sparing a second glance at the group, she moved across the room, her steps purposeful, every inch of her body radiating a quiet intensity.

Billy looked up, but Agatha was already gone.

When she reached you, she found you laughing at something Lilia had just said. She paused for a brief moment, just watching you. You were so effortlessly beautiful, so completely hers, and the thought of someone else seeing you the way she did made her chest tighten with that possessive ache.

Without a word, Agatha moved closer, her presence almost overwhelming as she slid onto the couch beside you. She pulled you toward her with a firm but gentle hand on your waist, guiding you into her space. You blinked in surprise, but before you could say anything, her lips were on yours—firm, insistent, but not rough. It was a kiss meant to remind, to claim.

You gasped softly at the sudden intensity, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed her back, meeting her fervour with your own, even as her arms wrapped around you in a hold that felt possessive, protective. Her lips moved against yours, her hands threading through your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

When she pulled away just enough to speak, her voice was low and thick with emotion. "You’re mine," she whispered, her forehead resting against yours, her breath shaky. "Don’t forget that."

You were breathless, but you didn’t mind. There was something intoxicating about the way she kissed you, something raw, and you could feel the tension inside her—the need to mark you as hers.

"Agatha," you said softly, your hands reaching up to cradle her face, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. "I’m yours. I always have been. No one else matters."

She sighed, a slow, almost contented exhale, her fingers brushing the side of your face as she gently cupped your cheek. Her eyes were softer now, but the intensity didn’t leave them. "I just had to remind myself," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "It’s just… hard sometimes."

You smiled, your thumb brushing her jaw as you gazed at her, loving the vulnerability she rarely showed. "You don’t need to worry," you said, your voice light but earnest. "I’m not going anywhere, Agatha. I love you." you breathed, your body stilling for a moment as Agatha settled you in, her fingers tracing small patterns along your arm.

"Agatha?" you asked, a soft question in your voice, though you didn’t pull away. You had learned by now that Agatha’s moods could shift quickly, but you knew it wasn’t ever about you. It was always a storm within her that needed quieting.”Are you okay?”

She leaned down, her lips brushing lightly against your ear as she spoke, her voice low but filled with affection. "I just needed to remind myself that you're here. You're mine."

Your breath caught in your throat, the sweetness of her words filling you with warmth. Agatha’s possessiveness was rarely explicit, but when it surfaced like this, it felt like a declaration. You turned your head to meet her eyes, soft and sincere.

"I’m yours," you whispered, your fingers reaching up to gently trace her cheek, feeling the subtle tension in her. "I’m not going anywhere, Agatha. My box of stuffed animals in our hallway are here to prove it” you teased.

She exhaled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing a little as she let her head rest against yours, her lips brushing against the side of your face in a tender, almost apologetic kiss.

"I know," she murmured. "I just… sometimes, it feels like I might lose you. Like someone else could…"

"Agatha," you interrupted softly, cupping her face in both your hands, pulling her attention to you fully. "You won’t lose me. Ever."

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle in, her hands moving to rest on your waist, pulling you a little closer. She didn’t say anything, just held you there in the silence, the warmth of your presence enough to calm the storm inside her.

Lilia, who had been watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, finally spoke, her voice teasing but kind. "You two really are a sight, you know that? The way Agatha’s got you wrapped around her finger… she’s got the softest heart, when she lets it show."

Agatha rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of affection in the gesture. "Oh, stop. I’m just making sure everyone knows where they stand," she said, her fingers lightly brushing through your hair as if to emphasise her point.

You laughed softly, the sound light and easy, as you leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. "I know where I stand," you whispered, your lips brushing against hers. "I stand with you."

Agatha’s hand slid down to rest on your lower back, the possessive streak never fully leaving her, but now tempered by the softness of the moment. She kissed you back, just as gently, a quiet promise between you two that no one else needed to hear.

"Good," Agatha said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes, her voice steady again. "Because you’re mine. And I’m not going to let anyone forget it."

Lilia snorted from across the room, clearly amused by the exchange, but she didn’t press the point any further. Billy, too, had caught wind of the moment and gave Agatha a playful wink.

"Alright, alright, you two. Enough of the lovey-dovey stuff," Billy called out, his grin wide. "Come on, let’s crack open that bottle of wine, yeah?"

Agatha, still holding you close, let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief, though her fingers lingered possessively on your back. "Oh no, I’m not allowing the designated driver to get drunk," she said, her tone still a bit teasing. "You need to get these women home so I can give my girl a real housewarming."

You flushed red, leaning into her embrace, feeling the softness of the moment between you. "Save the bottle, we can have it in bed," you murmured, Agatha’s eyes glinting with desire, her lips curving into a smile. You kissed her again, this time a little slower, a little sweeter. And Agatha, for all her usual fire, melted into you.

“Well,” she announced, her voice unusually chipper but with a sharp edge that made the coven shift uneasily. “This has been lovely, but I’m afraid the party is over. Let’s wrap it up.”

A collective groan rippled through the group, led by Billy and Lilia, who exchanged knowing smirks.

“Come on, Agatha,” Billy teased, folding his arms. “The night’s still young! Surely we can—”

Lilia cut him off with a laugh, nudging his arm. “Oh, don’t bother, Billy. You know why she’s kicking us out.”

Agatha smirked at them, raising a brow. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Lilia gave you a wink. “Sure thing, Agatha.”

The group began gathering their things, murmuring and chuckling amongst themselves as they filed out the door. Agatha kept one arm loosely around your waist, her body language protective, as she nodded polite goodbyes.

Billy paused in the doorway, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Have fun, you two,” he said, earning a swat on the shoulder from Lilia as she dragged him out.

The last to leave was Jen, lingering near the threshold with her purse slung over her shoulder. Agatha pulled her into a hug, her hands pressing firmly against Jen’s back as she whispered in her ear.

“Listen closely,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and lethal. “If you ever try anything with her—anything at all—you’ll live to regret it. Understand?”

Jen stiffened in the embrace, her eyes darting nervously to you before nodding quickly. “I wasn’t— I wouldn’t,” she stammered.

“Good.” Agatha pulled back, her smile sharp and unyielding. “Have a safe trip home.”

Jen mumbled a hasty goodbye and practically scurried out the door, her nervous energy almost palpable. Agatha closed the door behind her, locking it with a flick of her wrist before turning to you. The room seemed to settle, the heavy atmosphere lifting as Agatha’s shoulders relaxed.

She leaned against the door, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “Well, that takes care of that.”

You laughed softly, walking over to her and wrapping your arms around her waist. “What did you say to Jen?”

“Oh, nothing important,” she said breezily, pulling you closer. Her grin softened into a fond smile as she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s focus on us, babygirl. Tonight’s all about you and me.”

“Upstairs. Now.” She ordered, swatting your ass playfully making you squeal as you ran upstairs, Agatha hot on your tail.

And just like that, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the cozy warmth of your home.

A/N: So I’m thinking of making a part 2 to this including some possessive Agatha smut… let me know if that would be something you guys would be interested in 💜

Masterlist

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

[bnhaobservation]

Did Enji atone to Touya (and his family) and stepped up on his role as a father?

Boku no Hero Academia has a grave 'flaw'. The fact that's strongly tied to Japanese culture and Buddhism makes it a very interesting work but also makes it a hardly international work because way too many cultural things are left unexplained because they're assumed to be a given. Only they're not when the work is read by foreign readers. And this lead to confusion.

The Todoroki plotline is an example of this.

In the west many feel Enji did nothing for Touya or did too little because the little he did is a given in the west. The point is... it's not a given in Japan. In Japan is a BIG DEAL. So let's go though it.

First, the fact that he doesn't want to kill Touya even though he's a criminal

Todoroki Enji ‘Ore wa ikinobite mo... ENDEAVOR wa shinda. Tairyō satsujinsha (read: musuko) to tatakaenai.’ 轟炎司「俺は生き延びても...エンデヴァーは死んだ。大量殺人者（むすこ）と戦えない。」 Todoroki Enji “Even if I survived... Endeavor is dead. I can't fight against a mass murderer (read: my son).”

Let's compare it to these two scenes of "Death Note" and see how Yagami Soichiro, a policeman, is taking the idea his son might be a killer and how, although Misa protests, the story doesn't present it as him being crazy but as it being his duty.

That's why Hawks doesn't want to send Enji, who's on an atonement path, to face Dabi, because Enji might end up in a situation in which he would have to kill his son and he would refuse... which is more or less what happens.

Second, Enji acknowledges that what Touya said is true, Touya is his son and Enji did what he did. In such a situation many would lie. Dabi's video proves nothing. He is a Villain, they had a doctor in the team who could create Nomu, the paternity test could be fake, even if Dabi were to provide a sample of his blood or skin they could insist that's fake.

Society didn't want the truth, they didn't want Enji to confess, they wanted him to reassure them, they even commented he should have lied because yes, that's what's done often.

Basically he put his honor on the chopping block. A public apology like this one is a BIG DEAL in Japan. It's much more serious than in western countries and he does it when he could have spared himself and say Dabi lied but that would have meant to deny his son.

Third, it connects to the first in a way. While Enji is unwilling to kill Touya, he's willing to die with him. It's ‘shinjū’ (心中 Lit. “Mind/heart center/inside” but more likely means “oneness of hearts”, probably reflecting a psychological link between the participants) and it’s a word used in common parlance to refer to any group suicide of two or more individuals bound by love, typically lovers, parents and children, and even whole families. People who commit shinjū believe that they would be united again in heaven, a view supported by feudal teaching in Edo period Japan, which taught that the bond between loved ones would continue into the next world, and by the teaching of Pure Land Buddhism wherein it is believed that through shinjū, one can approach rebirth in the Pure Land. By volunteering to die with him, Enji is basically agreeing to remain with him in their next reincarnation.

For us it's crazy, it's Enji giving up on saving him. In Japan it sounds like 'I love you and I want to be with you'.

Forth, he'll apologize to Touya. As said before it's a BIG DEAL, especially since Enji is the family head and, although for us most of what he did is wrong, in Japan most of what he did is well within what he can do. Marrying a woman you don't love in a combined marriage to expect the child who'll be born from it will fulfill your ambitions and not really bothering to raise it because that's a mother job, well, things are changing in Japan but none of the above is a crime. In a not so distant past it was actually the norm. Yet Enji apologizes even though normally a family head wouldn't.

Fifth it's a bit in the first point and in the second but it'll drag on through all the story, Enji won't reject Touya. He's the only one (except Fuyumi who however doesn't get to say much) who never calls him Dabi after the reveal, and he won't strike him out of the family register but will keep on considering him his son.

Look at the Tobitas instead and at how they kick their son out.

Don't think Hawks is cutting strings with his parents solely because they were abusive, the Tobitas show us how you should just cut strings with a criminal. Same as the Togas.

Have "Theseus no fune" in which a man accused to be a murderer, send a birthday gift to his son and watch the reaction of his wife.

They don't want to keep contact with a criminal. It's scary because they'll be mistreated if they are discovered to be related to him.

And, in this vein, the fact he wants to go see him, that he'll keep on seeing him till the end instead than turning his back on him, is seen as important. It's seen as him being his father.

To many of us it seems as if he's forcing his presence upon Touya. Actually, from a Japanese perspective he's instead not abandoning him like many others would.

And since Touya is dying, very likely the talking will be the talking that's done in a Buddhist culture when someone is dying. Death should occur in a calm and peaceful environment, with close friends and family in attendance. Together they should reflect on the good deeds the dying person has done throughout their life, in the hopes it will help them in their next reincarnation. Additionally, family and friends can perform good deeds on behalf of them, which they believe will be of merit to the deceased.

So, since Touya is dying he won't get a scolding like Chisaki, they'll all only tell him nice and soothing things so he'll die peacefully.

Now... in the west all this is absolutely way too little, and in some points even feels wrong. Dying together instead than insisting in trying to save him? Deciding unilaterally to show up every day? Not our thing...

We can totally say 'thanks, I hate it' because we grew up with Darth Vader who instead gave his life to SAVE his son. All this accepting that Touya instead is going to die so Enji can at best die with him or keep him company until he does... well, it's mostly not our cup of cultural tea.

In in Japan though, all Enji does is important. Enji is doing something for Touya as a father, something important many fathers wouln't do for their sons.

Does it would satisfy a Japanese audience? They'll get the message better than us... but things are changing and anyway it can still feel too little. "Death Note" is dated 2005/2006 and back in it Misa was already questioning the idea of a father killing his son and then killing himself. BNHA is more innovative as Enji doesn't think to kill Touya but he still goes for the 'let's die together' route... and Horikoshi subtly criticizes it by having the rest of the family decising they'll try to stop the fire before just giving up. They're willing to die, but not before trying.

Enji represents plenty of old theories after all, which Horikoshi acknowledges were moved out of wrong beliefs, not moved by mean intents... which, is possible, would still not be enough for Japanese readers either because among teenagers, the target audience, there's an increasing number of teen who, in Japan, are forced to leave home (the Toyoko Kids) and often ends up committing crimes to survive and the league seems to be based on all the kind of homeless people Japan has.

While for a kid at home with a loving family being told that his father will die with him if he messes up instead than just dumping him might be comforting... for a kid that was abused and forced to leave home this might feel not enough.

People want to be saved, being told it's too late to save them, might be a lesson for those who hadn't done anything wrong yet so that they won't do it, but it's surely not a hopeful message for who instead got himself into troubles.

But well, that's something for the Japanese audience to ponder.

There's also to point out that, even though the message is not hopeful, Horikoshi is seeing the homeless people and acknowledging they should be helped.

Japan in regard to the Toyoko kids is mostly like the old woman who pretended not to see Tenko but that, in the end, helps that new boy.

I think Horikoshi's message desperately wants to be hopeful even for them, that he wants BNHA be like Midoriya's final stand, something that will push people to acknowledge they exist and reach out to help them.

It just that... it gets lost in what I'll call the 'litteral translation'.

No one explains us how we should jusge the scenes and, since we lack the cultural background, to us they are perceived differently because to us things work differently.

And, personally, even when I think I figured out the author's intent and can see the positivity of it, the cultural filter is still too tick and the picture gets blurried.

It's like being beginner at speaking a foreign language and having to constantly translate it in your head. The message loses its natural beauty, get simplified and not fully grasped.

I think I understand how Enji's atonement works in regard to Touya... it still doesn't feel fulfilling to me. But enough about Touya.

'Now,' you might rightfully say, 'fine, I'll bite, let's assume what Enji has is an atonement arc for Touya. It doesn't work at all in the west but let's give it a pass. What about his other kids?'

Natsuo and Fuyumi's wishes are in conflict.

Fuyumi wants the five of them to be a family (at the time she doesn't know Touya is alive), Natsuo doesn't want to be part of a family with Enji.

Enji's solution is giving Fuyumi a house in which she can welcome her mother and live with Natsuo (and Shouto when he comes home), while he removes himself from the equation. The solution fulfills Natsuo's wish of not seeing Enji because it makes him feel bad. It only partly fulfil Fuyumi's wish because it'll allow her to have her mother back (Rei couldn't bear meeting Enji either) and to stay with her siblings... but Enji takes responsibility for it, he doesn't tell her it's due to Natsuo that he can't live with them, so, in theory, it won't be Natsuo the one who's stressed to be at home when Enji is there and the one who has to leave home because he can't stand the sight of Enji.

There are many things I can say on how this is not a good solution (it doesn't make Natsuo feel better, it just stops him from feeling worse), but there are two points to consider. The first is that Enji is getting old and it would be his children's duty, due to filial pity, to take care of him, instead he's basically giving them the means to leave and take his wife with them.

Actually, since Natsuo is now the oldest MALE, it should fall on him specifically. Yes, Enji always intended to have Shouto inherit his mantle but this doesn't free Natsuo from his duties. Instead Enji is letting all his children free.

Even with Shouto, he doesn't insist anymore for Shouto to learn Flashfire Fist as his heir but just as an intern.

I take this is big in Japan.

Here again, not so much, especially in the countries in the west that think kids should leave their parents' home as soon as possible and we don't think our children are obliged to inherit our mantles.

Note how the story implies that this was meant to be the end for the Natsuo/Enji arc.

Natsuo made clear he didn't want to meet Enji again, he does it solely because they've to stop Touya and, once they've stopped Touya, he makes clear he doesn't want to see him again.

If we want though, the fact he's leaving the family can be seen as a concession in a way.

Since apparently Rei wants to stay with Enji (and likely their old house was devasted because that's what happens to relative of criminals) Enji can now move with Fuyumi and Rei and Natsuo won't have to see him because he'll leave home... to make his own home.

As for Shouto... Horikoshi answered his request by basically showing him Enji being a father for Touya and then promising he would protect them from the fiery fallout, which Horikoshi doesn't show at all because it's another thing that's a given in Japanese culture, it'll be hell for Enji to protect them, but not for us.

Just to get an idea of the fiery fallout here are some images from "Theseus no fune" again showing you how bad is this sort of thing.

Back to Enji, Horikoshi gives us verbal confirmation that Enji is now being a father by being willing to do this, by having Natsuo, who never called him as such, calling him father for the first time.

For Horikoshi that's Enji being a father.

Again, we've no idea of which hell Enji will suffer because that's not part of our culture. I've posted above screencaps of "Theseus no fune", that's how the fallout should be so not pretty at all.

So the fact that Enji will try to protect them from it is, again, BIG.

So yeah, Enji did do BIG things to atone and keeps on doing them and if he'll ultimately get forgiven by Natsuo (the rest of his family wanted to forgive him way before he were to do something), that's up to Natsuo... Horikoshi likely left this as open ending because he wanted to let it up to readers so as not to make them feel they were forced to forgive Enji.

In the general hopeful theme of the manga and with Natsuo acknowledging him as a cool father I guess his idea is that Natsuo too will eventually forgive him because he's kind.

I don't want to say that Natsuo forgiving Enji would be a culture clash because there's people even here that forgive their horrible parents and that's valid. Forgiving is a personal choice and one has the right to make it even if said horrible parent did nothing to deserve it.

It's up to you.

But sure is, if again we take the story at face value and not in its cultural contest, we can't see what Enji does to atone, because for us is nothing big.

It's even made worse by how Horikoshi doesn't show at all the hell Enji will go through (as for him is a given) so for us IT DOESN'T EXIST. We see Enji as having it easy, talking big but not having to face anything at all.

Honestly though... I think this is a bit of a flaw of the manga as a whole.

Way too often it prefers to focus on the good than on the bad so that the bad gets sidelined to much to the point people forget it.

There were horrible Heroes who committed crimes and had no intention to repent or stop... and we never met them. Nagant killed them off but we never met them.

Mountain Lady, who became a Hero for money and fame, then sticks to the job even when it's bad. Desugoro, who left the job when it turned bad, then came back to help. Enji is on an atonement path and, anyway, on work he was always a good Hero.

In the same way Horikoshi prefers not to show Enji's hardship but focus on how he'll have the support of his sidekicks, driver and Hawks... partly also because it ties in so well with the general message of everyone reaching out.

The result is that the Midoriya plotline of everyone reaching out becomes more important of the Enji atonement arc and overshadows it.

Enji's atonement arc ends in 426, chap 430 doesn't feel the need to tell us if Enji is keeping up with it despite the hardship, nor how his family is doing. It feels the need to reassure us that people will reach out for him even if he's in hell, that even if he had to give up on his family, he now as a new found family.

It's thematically consistent with the theme of reaching out but... the fact it overwrites the atonement arc honestly FOR ME doesn't work so great.

I think it's an overall problem of the 'reaching out message'.

While in itself is beautiful... it saves nothing I was lead to care about.

In Enji's case I was interested in his atonement arc, in how he could help his kids. I wanted more of that, partly because his atonement arc is so far from my culture, partly because it touched characters I cared about, I wanted to be reassured he would keep on working on it and that his family would be well.

Yes, he should be in hell, but the story didn't really work hard on trying to make me worry for him as it established already a support network for him. The story made me worry for the kids, for Touya, who was dying, for Fuyumi, who wanted back her family and won't have it, for Natsuo, who's marrying an unknown character so young, for Shouto, who has to cope with the loss of the brother with whom he wanted to connect.

I don't really care Burnin, Onima, Kido and Hawks are willing to continue to protect Enji, to reach out to help him, I knew they would, I wanted to be reassured Enji's kids are safe, well and protected. I wanted to see ENJI reach out and help them.

In this vein I don't really care the old grandmother saved a nameless abused kid, or, at least, not as much as I cared for Tomura to be saved. It's nice she saved him, it's nice he gets to live the life Tomura was denied but honestly, he's a mob character with a super tragic backstory created deliberately to force us to emotionally connect to him.

The message he now will be saved is good, but my emotional investment to him is too little.

The same applies to Uraraka's Quirk counsueling program, we knew next to nothing about the Quirk consueling previous program beyond that it didn't work (a real problem in Japan as they have a school consueling program that didn't work... and changes are in progress) and that now it supposedly does.

To how Shouji now solves peacefully plenty of conflicts caused by Heteromorph discrimination, which Horikoshi tossed in later and never really showed how to solve (and, don't take me wrong, it's not solved even by Shouji, he just solves peacefully the conflicts, how is up to everyone's speculation).

Long story short, I think Horikoshi worked really hard for BNHA to have an optimist, hopeful message... but part of it goes lost in cultural differences and part of it goes lost in how the story didn't try to get me invested in the things it's now saving.

So yeah, I'm still sad for this little panel in chap 430

I guess I'll eventually get over it. Today though, it's not that day.

On a positive note... if we count the pages of all the chapters that should go in vol 42 they're only 132. The chapters that were meant to go into Vol 39 had 165 (which yes, Horikoshi further expanded once the volume was released).

So yeah, unless Vol 42 will be slimmer than usual or that he'll add to it some sidestory or extra story, it's possible we'll get more plot in terms of epilogue. We'll see.

(also yes, I'm not touching Rei in this post. Rei is another can of worm entirely and one, I fear, Horikoshi doesn't care about. The poor woman doesn't even get a profile while Ikoma Komari does. And really, I do think Rei is much more important than Ikoma Komari)

Last, but not least, since someone seems to get the wrong idea, in case it wasn't clear enough, I'm not Japanese. I research on this. Through books, through the net and yeah, since I like to read manga and anime also through them which I often use as a source of comparison because they're easy, accessible to many and represent the same kind of media BNHA is so they more or less move according to the same or similar rules. I might have messed up somewhere. I encourage you to also research on the topic and take everything with a grain or two of salt.

[captainkirkk]

✩ MONTHLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

The fics I’ve read and enjoyed for the month of February. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC (Batman)

Light A Match, Pull The Pin (You Are Not Who You've Been) by WakingNightmares

Part 2 of I've Given Every Piece Of Me (And I'm Breathing)

“Games,” Dick says softly. “He… he likes to play games. With your… with your head. He won’t…” He shakes his head a bit, some of the distance in his eyes fading. “He won’t come at you head on. That’s not… That’s not what he does. He wants you scared, first. Helpless. Knowing there’s nothing you can do. He… He calls it… softening up the target. So when he… when he actually shows up… they’re so afraid they… they panic.”

“And if he does…” Jason swallows. “If he does, you… there’s no way out. He won’t… If you fail, he doesn’t care. What you do. It doesn’t matter. He won’t stop no matter how much you…” Jason blinks a few times, and Roy’s fairly positive he’s trying to blink back memories. “He’s going to do what he’s going to do. You can’t stop him. He doesn’t care.”

Roy takes a deep breath. Let’s it out slowly, so it’s only an exhale, and not a sigh, because Jason looks haunted, and Dick looks blank.

Set immediately after Screaming In The Dark.

Captive Prince

Blood, Bones, Voice, Ghost by sunsmasher

Damen’s grip on his arm is painful. His face in Laurent’s is ashy and sheened with sweat.

He says, “There was something in my drink.”

(Damen is poisoned, Jokaste is framed, Laurent must find them an heir. He's put it off for so long already.)

Miraculous Ladybug

the art of living lies and a fine mingling of letting go by blueh

“Ms. Bustier,” Marinette says a little desperately. “I have been fighting akumas nonstop for the past twenty four hours, I’m running on seven expresso shots right now and I can barely read the words on the board. Can we please reschedule the test?”

Adrien doesn’t look up from where his head is buried in his arms but he waves a hand and says, “Agreed.”

Or: the world knows their identities, but life goes on.

Sewing Needles and Cat Paws by SailorChibi

Later, they agree that Hawkmoth did it on purpose.

But in the moment, Chat Noir can’t think that far. His head is pounding, possibly from a concussion, and he has just enough time to look into Ladybug’s scared blue eyes before the flash of light overtakes them both. Then, suddenly, he’s looking at Marinette Dupain-Cheng and the journalists around them are screaming. Their names, including Adrien’s real one, are so loud that it’s disorienting.

The Growing Pains Of Child Soldiers by BloodWolf13 (+ podfic)

What do the citizens of Paris do, when they realize that their heroes are literally growing up before their eyes? They freak the fuck out.

Or everybody realizes that the heroes of Paris are young teenagers and are a little (extremely) worried about children fighting a terrorist.

Yesterday was plain awful by zipadeea

"WHERE IS LADYBUG? The headlines scream Sunday morning, and Caline Bustier feels her stomach just drop."

After a terrifying akuma attack, Paris and its heroes are left reeling. All most people want is to know what has happened to their beloved Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette and Adrien just want to be okay.

Alternatively: Plagg has a whole lot of feelings, Marinette lies and says she's fine every other paragraph, and Adrien cries more in two days than he has in two years.

Miraculous Ladybug x DC

Bad news, Paris by BlueTee

Part 1 of Paris vs Gotham

Tim: @notTHATtim Are you parisians all right??? #onlyinParis Nathaniel Kurtzberg: @nathanielkart Replying to @notTHATtim hahaha no.

In which Nathaniel only wanted to pass some information but shenanigans issues and he ends up starting a twitter war.

Severance

Lay Me Back Down by EightMinutesToSunrise

Mark S. escapes Lumon and finds himself alone in an unfamiliar house. Or, not quite alone--his outie's with him.

Click. Click. by EightMinutesToSunrise

A few days after the destruction of Lumon and the innies' escape, Mark S. requests that his outie take their consciousness, and not swap back for anything. Not even (especially not) for their rebellion's firecracker leader, Helly Riggs.

From Lightswitch AU--a separate but related continuation of my fic "Lay Me Back Down."

As the Elevator Dings by Sdove

Breaking company rules is a form of self care. OR a story about the revolutionary act that is choosing to love yourself. OR the aftermath of the party and Mark S.'s role in it-- part character study, part plot, all angst, baby!

A Light In The Storm by Alooxis

Ever since the court order requiring that Lumon employees be provided with co-neural switches - a modified version of the overtime contingency device - Mark's world had become so much larger than he’d ever imagined.

Unfortunately, with a world of new experiences comes a world of new fears.

I.e.: Mark S. experiences his first thunderstorm. It does not go well. Thankfully, Devon is there to help.

[angel-of-the-moons]

I haven’t stopped thinking about that Hobie baby fever fic ever since you posted it. Many thoughts. Many thoughts many many thoughts and ideas many many little ideas.

You have people saying ‘Oh good luck lol kids are SO hard!’ ‘He’s definitely gonna regret it you’re gonna be a single parent’. But Hobie’s probably been WISHING from a young age he could be a parent, the only thing he didn’t prep for is your little one grabbing his wicks and him nervously calling out “Luv, luv help me LUV-”. He learnt very quickly to tie his hair back when he’s holding them. If you have a little girl, everyone always thinks it’s you who’s done her hair for the day or for school. NOPE. Hobie’s been with her in the bathroom since 6 in the morning putting her in braids and buns. Your baby is his whole world and he’ll be DAMNED if he won’t be the absolute best dad EVER ‼️

Oh my godddddddddd my ovaries went 💥💥

The Pitter Patter of Little Feet Pt. 2

Dad!Hobie x Wife!Reader

TW/CW: A lil angst at the start, Fluff. So much fluff.

A/N: I'm basing all my baby prep off of the things I had to do for my nephew. I am unsure the proper care that goes into textured hair but I hope I can do it justice!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

You remember what people told you, how "someone like him" wouldn't be able to handle being a dad, how he'd leave you. The words said by your mother hurt the worst, the things she said about Hobie. Your father was no better, especially when they found out you two agreed to get pregnant before anything else.

Especially after you put the positive pregnancy tests, the test results from blood work with your doctor, and some baby booties on the table as a surprise.

It was supposed to go like you imagined, right? Happy jubilant crying, hugs, congratulations...

You got the exact opposite, with your parents criticizing everything about your boyfriend, the father of your unborn baby. The man you loved.

"What kind of father would he be? A bad one, just look at how he's dressed! You think he can help dress your child?" Your mother scoffed. "And those awful piercings! I bet your baby will be running around with holes in their face by the time they're six!"

"And what about a job? You can't be the only one to support your family. He's a man, he needs to step up and quit it with that "punk lifestyle". It's not suitable to raise my grandchild in!" Your father grunted.

After your baby was born, you cut them off and had a courthouse wedding, and a little get-together with his friends from the Spider Society. A mix of a reception and baby shower.

Joke's on them! Hobie was an amazing father, and an amazing husband. The moment he found out you two were having a little girl?

Pink. And. Purple. Her style would be all punkish of course.

He got stuffed instruments that crinkled for when she would teethe, some guitar-shaped rattles...

And he would never admit it, but Hobie actually cried, when he got to hold your baby girl for the first time. You guys named her Selena. Selena Brown.

She came out angry, wailing, as if she was pissed off at the world she had only been in for a few moments.

"Already got the spirit! Make a big noise, a big statement. That's my girl!" Hobie laughed, playing with her tiny feet.

After that, Hobie was very attentive. From you working from home, he would help. He'd fetch the breast pump when you needed it, would prep the bottles, and keep Selena occupied while you worked. He would even take the late shifts at night to make sure you got your rest.

As Selena got bigger, her hair became a bit unruly, and at times you had no idea what to do with it. Hobie? He came in clutch. The proper ties, hair masks, grease (if needed), oils, brushes...

The trick was getting the rambunctious one year old to hold still while her father attempted to tame the poofy mass.

It was one day, you got up from your computer only to hear Hobie shout your name.

"Babe! Babe!" He cried out, grunting.

Of course, you made a dash for the living room, only to see your husband with your toddler. Apparently she had moved behind him, her hands clinging to his shirt to help keep her balanced as she bounced on her little chubby feet.

Her big brown eyes gleamed as she giggled, her bottom teeth poking out in the most adorable way.

Well... it wasn't from where Hobie sat.

Selena's little fist had a tight hold over one of his wicks, tugging his head back sharp.

"A lil' help, luv?!" He winced, hissing at you as you covered your face to try and keep from laughing.

"Come on, Bug, give daddy's poor head a rest. He's got enough problems with that mess he calls hair." You tease, scooping up your little girl.

But... even though her grip loosened, Hobie's wick stayed attached to her hand.

"Oh... ohhhhh..." You said, clicking your tongue.

"What! What!" Hobie groaned, trying to tug his head free.

"You made me have a spider baby."

[thestorycomesalive]

And I Would Do it Again

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: When you stick up for George in front of your whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Umbridge has a certain consequence in mind for you.

Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

TW: Mentions of Blood

****

“Eh hem, Mr. Weasley,” hummed a trilling voice from behind the tall red head next to you.

“Professor?” George raised an eyebrow to the pink clad woman behind him, wondering what in the world the small, angry lady could possibly want. Afterall, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And he knew better than to test her at this point. Or at least he knew his limits. Ron had told him of the tragic events that took place in Harry’s detention. Ever since then, he and his twin brother had gotten quieter and cleverer about pulling their tricks around school. Of course, they hadn’t stopped altogether. George wouldn’t be George without his pranks. But George knew he couldn’t get detention. Not out of a kindness for himself, but rather for your sake. He knew you’d worry too much.

But this time, he hadn’t done anything to provoke Professor Umbridge. He racked his brain for a moment, but he couldn’t think of one thing that would call her attention to him.

“You have received a generous amount of our class time today to complete your writing assignment, and while even Ms. L/N next to you has come up with a few paragraphs, you seem to have nearly nothing on your page. Care to explain what you’ve been up to all of this time?” The woman teetered to the front of your table, peering down at George.

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Well, it is not for lack of trying. I just have a hard time learning on paper. And you don’t let us use our wands,” he pointed out.

She giggled a single, ugly giggle. “Mr. Weasley… I can’t say I’m surprised. Afterall, I have come to expect less than from you. You shouldn’t need your wand to learn. Perhaps it is time for you to accept the fact that your own stupidity is to blame for your shortcomings. I really do my very best, but some students are just purely unteachable.” She hummed the last part to herself, shaking her head.

Your eyes shot up to her instantly. You had been watching her for some time, but in this instance, your eyes had been on the boy next to you, offering looks of kindness and sympathy without words. But now you were angry. Practically fuming. “Excuse me,” you muttered sharply, grabbing her attention with a whip of her head. “That is not, in any way, fair or warranted. George is one of the smartest people I know.” Your eyes were shooting darts at her as a piercing, condescending smile crept up to her ears.

“Ms. L/N. Talking out of turn will not be tolerated in my classroom. Especially not when it is used to talk back to your superiors,” she huffed.

You felt the smallest sensation of George’s pinky finger entwining with yours, as he tried to simmer down some of the anger, he knew was bubbling within you. You sighed and decided to leave the subject, having said your piece.

“You shall not question my knowledge and wisdom in any sense. If I say he is stupid, he is stupid, and if I say you are a flying Niffler, well then, you must be a flying Niffler. Do you understand, young lady?” she grinned, clearly having been satisfied with what she thought was winning the argument. You feel the heat and anger rising even higher than before at the mention of the sweet boy next to you. And then you finally realized what it is she was asking of you. She was asking you to agree with her cruel assumption about your George in front of the whole class. She cocks an eyebrow in the air with a wild smirk on her face. The rage pools over as you finally let it escape your mouth.

“No. I do not. I do not understand how you can call someone so bright and creative stupid, simply because you lack the skills and empathy to teach them what you would like them to know. Or because their knowledge simply extends beyond concepts that you can understand. You might not agree with me, Professor, but not everyone is like you. Not everyone wants to sit in a dark room and just pretend to learn for the rest of their lives. You want to give me detention, Professor? Fine. But I will not stand by while you abuse really great wizards, let alone, the ones that I love.” You cock your eyebrows back at her, knowing she has you right where she wants you. You don’t have a care in the world as the steam almost rises from your ears. It is now you notice that George’s hand had moved from your pinky to your wrist, gently trying to stop you from making the decision you had just made, his eyes pleading with yours with a gentle sadness and slight shock. However, for the briefest moment, you thought you could make out the tiniest glimpse of pride pass his eyes at the same time.

“Detention, Ms. L/N. I will not have anyone tell me how to teach in my classroom or question my abilities and judgement as a witch. Let alone someone so new to magic, as yourself.” She smiled smugly as she returned to the front of the classroom continuing her lesson immediately, not giving George or you a chance to respond to her. It was this act that left George hunting her down with a glare that could kill for the rest of the class, hand still in yours.

****

George spent every moment away from you that day, skipping his classes, trying in every way to get himself detention with Umbridge as well. However, every attempt ended with a quiet humph and scolding from her filled with cruel and nasty words. It was clear that even though she dreadfully wanted to, she was not going to give in and give George the detention he so desperately desired. She knew his punishment would be far more effective if she let you suffer and put him in a position where he would not be able to do anything about it whatsoever. It was the only time that he had the freedom to do nearly anything he wanted at Hogwarts, to break almost any rule he wanted to break, and get away with it. The painful irony is, he hated every second of it.

*****

Your detention arrived quickly that night when the corridors of the castles quieted. You had spent all day since your class with Umbridge quiet by George’s side. On the moments that you would be separated, you would go find a place in the Gryffindor Common Room to sit and wait for him to return from his classes or what you thought must be prank trials with Fred. But you weren’t worried about your detention like most people probably assumed you had been. Hell, you probably should’ve been. No. You were furious. Furious at Umbridge for targeting George, furious at her for backing you into a corner until you couldn’t take it anymore, furious at her for hurting Harry, furious at her for getting away with all of the terrible things she has done… furious.

When darkness befell the Common Room, only George, Fred, Lee, and you remained. You hadn’t told Harry or anyone else about your detention. You didn’t want him to worry. However, Fred and Lee, of course, had known of your soon-to-be punishment, considering they had been in the class when you received it. When you left the classroom, George pulled you into his side protectively and Lee had given you proud pat on the shoulder. With an exaggerated wink, Fred had run up and exclaimed, “Blimey, that was amazing, L/N! Nice craftsmanship, excellent execution.” Fred had tried to wipe some of the anger from your face throughout the day with a few, “don’t mess with that one, she’s fiery” and ���Oi, Lee, careful. Catch yourself even looking at ol’ Georgie too long, and you might have to answer to that one,” with a point in your direction. These usually earned a genuine, soft smile from you as you chuckled to yourself. Freddie was the one person in the world who could make any person laugh no matter the circumstances. George would blush, and if he saw you laughing, he would also laugh to himself at the mention of the last joke from Fred. Part of you wondered if he may have enjoyed feeling your protectiveness over him. And you didn’t mind. You liked that he liked it. Even now.

But as the four of you sat late in the quiet Common Room, you felt the jokes wash away as George twiddled with his fingers, your head on his chest. You could tell he was feeling worried and helpless as you waited for your time to leave for detention. When that time came, you gave them a gentle smile and said, “Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Don’t go worrying about me too much.” You gave Fred and Lee a wink and kissed the top of George’s head.

As if on instinct, George grabbed your hand, pleading with his face, as if he were trying to keep you from going. But he knew that if you did not show up tonight, it would only earn you an even bigger punishment with the nasty, pink-shoed woman later. You took his hand and held it to your cheek as you gave him a little smile and whispered, “I love you. Goodnight.” And off you went, George watching your back as you left.

*****

As you creaked through the half open door of Umbridge’s office, you heard her squeal in delight. She toned out, “Do come in, Ms. L/N.”

You walked in without a word, eyes piercing through the small woman as she continued. “I do hope tonight will serve you nicely. You will be writing lines for me, dear.” You nodded your head, eyes still shooting at the Professor. This is what you had expected to hear from her. “Take a seat. There is a quill and parchment already for you at the desk there.”

 You took a seat at the desk she pointed to as she tutted. “Hmm… What lesson is to be learned tonight, do you think?” You, of course, didn’t answer. “There are many lessons I believe you could benefit from learning, Ms. L/N, but I have chosen to be generous to you, for reasons unbeknownst to me. I believe the lines, ‘I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors’, will do just fine.”

 Your mouth dropped. You were expecting to write lines, and you knew the pain that would come with that, but you had not expected the number of words she would give you to write to be so extensive. You only prayed that the number of lines she would have you complete would be less, to even out your sentence to compare to the stories you had heard from others, including Harry. You dared to ask. “How many- “

“One hundred,” she interrupted without hesitation.

You nodded, eyes still a bit wide from shock. You assumed that you had really struck a nerve with your defiance towards Umbridge. Afterall, why else would your sentence be nearly double that of any other student you have heard from so far? You figured that you also were being used as punishment towards those you loved as well. Those who have also unmeaningly struck a nerve of Umbridge’s too: Harry and George. But you wouldn’t be used as bait. No, you quite refused to be used as such.

As you dared to hover the dry quill over the paper, you prepared yourself for the pain that would inevitably begin once you touched them down to meet. And when it did, the pain was one hundred times more unbearable than you had even begun to imagine, just like the number of lines you were to complete.

By the time you had arrived halfway through your assignment, blood was dripping down your fingertips, drenching your parchment along with the tears crawling down your face. Finally, soft whimpers that you had tried to hold back for so long, began to escape.

 The clock ticking echoed in your ears, taunting your brain with the idea of freedom. After what felt like an eternity, you had finished the lines, and you were a both dry and wet bloodied mess. You sat up from your seat and handed the now quiet professor your scarlet stained parchment full of scratches reading, “I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors”, front and back.

“May I leave now?” you uttered.

She simply nodded with a conniving grin plastered on her face as she watched you walk out the door.

*****

You held your breath until you arrived back past the portrait into the Gryffindor Common Room, not wanting that evil woman to hear you cry. When you stepped into the room, you pressed your back to the cold wall next to you and grabbed your wrist, blood flow never-ending, and finally let the tears and sobs escape you, as your back fell down the wall. You were so blinded by the pain that you didn’t even notice there was someone in the room with you. They ran up from the couch, over to your place by the wall, and sat right next to you, pulling you into their lap. From the moment you discovered the figure, your brain and your heart knew it would be your George. Part of you had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep until you were back, and you didn’t want him to see you like this. You fought your brain which told you that you were allowing yourself to be the live weapon that Umbridge wanted you to be. You just hadn’t expected the pain to be so much. You hadn’t expected that you would collapse right in front of George. You so desperately wanted to be strong. To stay strong for him. For yourself. But, oh merlin, did it hurt.

His big arms wrapped around your shoulders and brought his hand to pull your bloodied one into his line of sight. His breathing hitched and he felt his blood run to his cheeks and his ears as his other hand clenched into a fist. He was seeing red at the extra bloodied hand you fostered, much worse than he had ever seen, even on Harry. But the rage he felt was nothing compared to the crunch of his heart splitting in two as your cries of pain reached his ears. He didn’t know what to do, he felt so helpless, just as he had all day, but a million times worse.

“Darling, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry. Please. Please, I have to wrap this. You have to let me wrap this,” he struggled, pleading with you.

Your head heard his words, and it told you to move, to stop crying, to say something. But your skin was on fire, and the roar of the flames outspoke the language of your brain trying to reason with your body. You were able to lean your head into his shoulder, as you tried to compose yourself as best as you could, but the best you could do was quiet your sobs ever so slightly, as any and all words fell silent in the back of your throat. Your tears soaked through his shirt and coated his upper arm that still held you. He began to take his arms and pull himself up, untangling himself from you. He moved to sit on his knees in front of you, eyes searching for yours as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

“My love. Please. I need to wrap your hand. Can I bring you to the couch?” he asked, peering through your eyes for an answer.

You slightly nodded your head, barely noticeable. But George, he saw it. He always saw it. He could read you better than anyone in the world. The moment he saw your head move, he scooped his arm under your bent legs and placed his other one across your back and under your arms. You turned your head into his shoulder as he gently move to place you on the couch, your back pressed to the arm of the chair. You pulled your knees up on the couch, moving your heels to touch your bottom. Splayed out across the table in front of you were bandages and a wrap for your hand. As the tears began finding themselves more and more scarce at the hope of relief, the smaller of the words at the back of your throat began to find their way out.

“Georgie?” you asked, coming out in a high-pitched whimper.

His deep, worrying eyes looked to you, hands finding your cheeks. He followed your eyes to the table and the equipment laying on it. An embarrassed blush came to his cheeks as his brows furrowed. Supplies. It was pathetic, he thought. He should’ve been the one being punished. But instead, it was you and there was absolutely nothing he could do except for find some simple supplies. Unable to even think about sleeping, he had snuck his way over to Madame Pomfrey in the medical wing as soon as you had exited the Common Room. He asked her for some supplies and after more than a lot of convincing that everything was okay and that he wasn’t up to anything that would get her in trouble, she suspiciously obliged. He knew you would refuse to see her anyways, not wanting to take up her time. And deep down, he too knew that there was not much she would be able to do for you, no matter how much he begged. Afterall, this was a punishment enacted by Umbridge herself, and no matter how much she wanted to, Pomfrey could not disregard the rules set in place by the self-proclaimed headmaster and inquisitor.

He turns back to you quickly trying to cover the look of shame and guilt on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks, tears of his own forming.

You could see him fighting with his own mind over something that you were sure would split your heart right down the middle.

“George?” you squeaked out once more.

“I’m so sorry…It’s my fault. I was behind in class. It should’ve been me. Not you. I should’ve protected you, I-,” he finally lets it all come rushing out.

You cut him off by placing your good hand on his cheek, giving him a difficult and very broken smile. Your voice comes out raspy from the sobs you had forced down but determined now, as soon as you hear the pain in George's own voice. “No. This decision was mine, George. All mine…” you give the faintest of laughs, almost in disbelief. “And yet, I can’t find the mind to regret it… I would do it again… and again.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes wincing as you revealed to him that you would take this punishment and this pain for him once again.

“Look at me?” you whispered.

He brought his eyes up to meet yours. Your voice was a little bit clearer now, although wavering ever so slightly.

“My decision. Please do not take that away from me, Georgie. It was my decision to make, and I am so glad that I did. You are so smart. You know that, right?” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes through the now silent and mild tears that streamed down your face.

He shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to even begin to describe himself as smart. If that were true, he thought, he would’ve found a way to be there with you. If that were true, you wouldn’t have been there at all. He couldn’t understand, how through all of the terror and pain, you were the one to comfort him. He simply began to unwrap the bandages from their place on the table and started to wrap them tightly around your hand to stop the blood from dripping any longer, a lot of it starting to dry already. When he was finished, you took your good hand and placed it on his cheek once again. You pulled him into a sweet, soft, salty kiss.

“Smart. Clever. Kind. Brave. Gentle,” you muttered these words in his ear as you rested your head on his shoulder, and he once again pulled you into his lap, this time, towards him.

“The strongest girl I know, so beautiful, so loving…,” he muttered back, caressing your hair, trailing off into magical, sweet nothings that mean quite everything to both of you.

“I love you, Georgie,” you whisper.

“I love you, darling,” he says.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you ask the beautiful, ginger boy that you love so dearly.

“I will always stay with you, my love,” he says as he begins to lift your body from the couch to carry to your dorm. There the two of you find comfort in each other’s embrace, finally drifting off into a deep sleep.

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ No Matter What - Part 14 | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: major injuries, blood, violence, cursing, angst

Summary: Sick of being toyed with, Lena takes action against her brother only for it to backfire in the worst way imaginable.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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“Ready?” Kara asks.

Lena nods and squares her shoulders, glancing my way for a second.

I give a thumbs up, albeit a bit halfheartedly and watch as Winn does some final tests on the microphone and camera.

It’s been two days since Lena got Lex’s letter. I have yet to read the whole thing, but judging by how she bawled when she was done reading it I can only imagine what he threatened to do if she doesn’t retract her testimony.

Instead of wallowing in self pity though, Lena decided that she wouldn’t let him manipulate her like this any longer which is why she’s now scheduled for an interview to reveal his plans of overturning his conviction to the world.

I’m not entirely sure this is the right thing to do because who knows how Lex will react, but when I brought it up to Lena she snapped at me.

I was irritated at first, but then she broke down crying again and said she had to do something because she couldn’t handle anyone getting hurt again, especially not me.

“Alright, we’re on in three seconds,” Winn says, joining me behind the camera. “Three, two, one. . .”

He nods and points a finger gun at Kara to signal that the camera is rolling.

The blonde fidgets with her glasses and looks at the notes in her lap before diving right into the interview.

She asks Lena about the breakout first, getting some information about how she found out about it before mentioning the letter.

Lena is tense and fidgets with her hands in her lap, but she’s doing her best to uphold a calm and confident appearance by sitting upright and keeping her face blank.

“Lex is a behind-the-scenes player,” she says. “He doesn’t like to act in the open and often pays people to do his dirty work for him which is why I set up this interview. People need to know what he’s up to.”

Kara nods, looking more serious than I have ever seen her.

She goes on to ask about the possible consequences of this interview and Lena tells her she hopes that Lex will back off for the time being now that the public is aware of what he’s trying to do.

They wrap things up rather quickly, Kara giving Lena a big hug once the cameras are turned off and Lena invites her over for dinner.

She also invites Winn, but he declines politely because he already has plans with James and William. They’re going bowling which is a once-a-month ritual for them and he already missed the last time they did it because he was sick.

The cameras and microphones are disassembled and packed away and within a couple of minutes we’re all making our way out of L-Corp.

It’s late which is why no reporters are around and Winn hails down a cab and bids us all goodbye as Alfred pulls up in the familiar black SUV.

I open the back door for Kara and Lena, waiting for them to get in before closing it again and getting into the front passenger seat myself.

I saw the longing look Lena sent me when she hesitated before getting in, but I didn’t get in with her because three people in the backseat would have been a tight squeeze and there wouldn’t have been much I could have done to comfort her with Kara around.

Alfred sends me a knowing look, obviously having caught onto the more-than-friendly relationship between Lena and I, but he doesn’t comment on it.

There’s not much traffic at this time of night, so we get to Lena’s place rather fast and I order some takeout while we’re in the elevator up to the apartment after agreeing on burgers and fries with Kara and Lena.

They take a seat on the couch, resuming their chat from the car about Kara’s new boss and I excuse myself, not wanting to intrude, and go to the guestroom.

I change out of my work clothes, putting my gun and holster on the nightstand and slip into a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt.

My back has healed nicely over the last couple of days and I can finally move again without being in pain anymore but there are still some fading bruises.

With a satisfied sigh, I jump on the bed and take out my phone, aimlessly scrolling through my camera roll.

I’m too tired to watch TV or read, so this will have to do.

I don’t have many pictures because after Noah’s death I haven’t really taken pictures of anything, but there are some pictures Lena took with my phone.

There’s a selfie she took with a dopey grin and me in the background passed out on the couch.

I didn’t know she took this and I smile when I zoom in on her face. Her eyes are sparkling with happiness and her cheeks are slightly flushed.

I love her, I think, but before I can bask in the feeling a message pops up.

It’s from my mom and I have half a mind to ignore it, but then I swipe down on it, freezing when I read what it says.

Your dad’s in the hospital. Heart attack. Please come. He was asking for you.

A heart attack? I’m not surprised, that mans been eating as though life insurance is free his entire life.

I don’t know how to feel, but I change into some more appropriate clothes either way and grab my gun off the nightstand.

I slip it into a different holster, fastening it to my belt before grabbing my phone and keys, making my way out of the room.

No matter how much he’s hurt me and how much I’ve told myself I hate him in the past, I still care about him.

He’s my dad for crying out loud, and before Noah’s death we were super close. He used to take me hunting and taught me how to play the piano, but since our falling out I haven’t done either of those things.

“Y/N? You ok?”

Kara looks at me with worry and Lena stops pouring herself another glass of wine in the kitchen to turn around and look at me, too.

Her eyebrows furrow when she takes in my getup and she rounds the kitchen island to tug at my jacket.

I don’t answer Kara. I just wave her off with a forced smile and focus on Lena.

“Where are you going?” she asks softly, fixing my collar before resting her hand on my chest.

I’m surprised by her open display of affection in front of Kara, but when I glance past her the blonde is watching us with the same knowing look Alfred had earlier.

Damn, are we that obvious? First Alex, then Alfred and now Kara?

I shake that thought and focus on Lena, hanging my head and putting my own hand over the one she has on my chest. “To the hospital. My dad had a heart attack,” I say softly.

Lena gasps and cups my cheek to make me look at her. “Oh my God. Do you want me to go with you?”

“No,” I decline quickly. “No, stay here with Kara and enjoy yourself. I’m sure with my hogging all your time recently you have a lot to catch up on.”

I force another smile, also directing it at Kara before stepping out of Lena’s space and making my way to the door.

I don’t want company right now because I have to focus on figuring out how I’m feeling.

I grab my bike from the janitors closet down in the lobby and start pedaling toward the hospital. The air is cold and crisp and makes my skin prickle, but it helps me clear my head a bit.

Why is my dad asking for me? Does he want to make up? Or is he calling me over to tell me once again what a horrible person I am?

I turn down a narrow street when I notice the street ahead is blocked by a construction site and frown when I ride past a black, windowless van.

It seems odd and out of place being parked on the side of the road because no other cars are around, but as soon as I’m past it, I shrug it off and imagine what it will be like when I get to the hospital.

My mom will surely be waiting for me, but what about my dad? Is he in surgery? Is he just waking up from surgery? What if he’s not even alive anymore?

I’m so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I don’t notice the van I just rode past catching up with me until it’s too late.

I look over my shoulder when it gets dangerously close and shout, “Hey! Watch it!”

The driver doesn’t slow down though and before I can swerve out of the way, I’m rear-ended and I fly off my bike, skidding on the pavement until I come to a rolling stop.

My pants and jacket are torn in several places, revealing scraped patches of skin, but what hurts most is my shoulder because that’s what I landed on initially.

My head also feels like it’s about to burst and everything is blurry and I feel like throwing up.

I move to get up, noticing my knuckles are covered in blood, but I don’t get far because a heavy blow to the back of my head sends me sprawling back onto the ground.

I groan and blink in an attempt to get rid of the dancing black dots in my vision, but it’s of no use because not even a couple of seconds later I’m slipping into unconsciousness.

Something incessantly poking my ribs is what ultimately wakes me up and when I move to swat at it I find myself being unable to do so because my hands are bound above my head.

I force my eyes open and let out an involuntarily sob when the pain of being hit by the van begins to catch up with me.

My shoulder aches and I tilt my head back to see I’m strung up by my hands and chained to a rusty pipe. My feet are barely touching the ground which puts extra strain onto my shoulder and makes it hard for me to breathe.

I cough, wincing when a wave of pain shoots through me and look around, trying to make out where I am, but then a harsh spotlight is turned on and aimed at my face.

It’s so bright my eyes close reflexively and I turn my head with another wince.

“Finally! You’re awake. I was afraid Otis might have hit you just a little too hard.” A voice says and I strain to open my eyes again to see who it belongs to.

I almost scoff when I see who it is and let out a defeated sigh.

Of course it’s him.

“Lex Luthor,” I croak, my fingers flexing above my head in an attempt to ease the tug on my wrists.

“So you know who I am,” he says with a smirk, redirecting the spotlight ever so slightly so I can see him properly.

We’re in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Where we are and how much time has passed since I left Lena’s though is unbeknownst to me.

I don’t say anything and just watch him as he shoves one of his hands into the pocket of his dress pants. The dark three piece suit he’s wearing seems to shine in the low light and I can only guess how expensive it must be.

He smiles wickedly and goes to a rusty table I didn’t notice until now, dragging it across the wet concrete floor until it stands a couple of feet in front of me.

On it, he opens a laptop and connects it to a camera, aiming it at me before he starts typing something on the laptop.

My arms are starting to go numb and the longer I stay in this position the harder it gets to breath, so I grit out an irritated, “What are you doing?”

He looks up for a moment, smirking, before returning his attention to the laptop.

I thrash, making the chains rattle above me before settling back down with a shaky breath.

“What do you want from me?” I wheeze.

Lex finally stops typing and pulls out a phone, dialing a number but not calling it just yet.

“Oh, I don’t want anything from you,” he says. “You’re just a means to an end.”

I frown for a second before it dawns on me.

Lena. . . He’s using me to get to her.

“Yes, that’s right,” he says, watching me carefully. “My darling little sister seems to be quite infatuated with you and because I would never dare to lay a hand on her, what better way is there to get to her than through you.”

I feel physically sick and swallow the bile that threatens to rise in my throat. It’s beyond me how someone can treat their sibling like this, but then again, this is Lex Luthor we’re talking about and he’s not exactly known for being a devoted family man.

The smug look on his face makes my blood boil and I reflexively go to reach for my gun, but I quickly realize I can’t because my hands are still tied and when I glance down I see that it’s not even on me anymore.

Of course it’s not, I think before looking back up to meet Lex’s eyes.

He tilts his head, probably wondering what’s going through my head before sighing and calling the number he’s already dialed.

He puts the phone on speaker and when I squint I feel my stomach drop as I recognize my silver phone case.

I thrash around, knowing exactly who he’s calling.

Dread washes over me, clawing at my throat when a familiar voice answers, sounding distressed, and I have to close my eyes to will away my tears.

“Y/N! Thank God you’re calling. Where the hell are you? I was so worried! The hospital said—“

“Hello, darling sister,” Lex cuts her off, sounding eerily calm and it’s quiet on the other end of the line for a couple of seconds before Lena’s voice, now shaking, is heard again.

“Lex, what have you done to Y/N?” she whispers which makes him laugh.

He clicks his tongue in faux irritation and shakes his head even though she can’t see him. “My, my, my little one, what have I taught you about jumping to conclusions, hmm? I haven’t done anything. Yet. . . What happens next though is completely up to you.”

Silence, again.

Then. . .

“What do you want?” she asks quietly, broken. “Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt Y/N.”

“No, Lena!” I croak, tugging and pulling at the chain in an attempt to get close enough to kick Lex. All I manage to do is flail around like a fish out of water though, slipping and gasping when I try to regain my footing.

“Y/N?!” Lena sounds frantic when she hears my voice, but before I get to reply a stinging pain shoots up my side, leaving behind a throbbing ache.

I yelp and cough, straining to see what happened when my eyes land on a familiar figure, twirling a baseball bat around in his hands. It’s the same man that attacked me over a week ago.

“I’m sorry, but has no one ever taught you not to interrupt a conversation?” Lex chastises, holding out a hand to stop his goon from hitting me again.

I groan and close my eyes, trying not to focus on the pain running through me.

“Lex, I swear to God—!”

“Ah, ah, ah, Lena,” Lex cuts her off yet again. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to threaten me when I so clearly have the upper hand. Now, unless you don’t want your precious Y/N to get hurt any more, I suggest you do as I say.”

He pauses and waits for Lena’s response which ultimately comes in the form of a whispered, “Okay. . .”

“Perfect, now, the first thing I want you to do is turn on your laptop,” he says and a few seconds go by before Lena says that she’s done what he asked.

“Great, now just sit back and enjoy the show,” he says, hitting a few buttons on his own laptop before turning to me, saying, “Smile for the camera!”

I peel my eyes open and sigh when I spot the blinking red light on the camera.

Not even a second later, the bat makes contact with my side again and I yelp, tasting blood in my mouth when I cough.

“Y/N!” Lena’s voice over the speaker sounds frantic and I shiver, realizing she’s being forced to watch what’s being done to me.

God, we’re going to need so much therapy after this. . . Or at least she will because at the rate things are going, my chances of getting out of this alive are pretty low.

“Stop, it! Please, Lex. I already told you I’ll do whatever you want,” she sobs and no matter how much pain I am in, hearing her crying is a hundred times worse.

“Oh, I know,” he says. “I just wanted to demonstrate what will happen if you don’t.”

I huff and cough again, feeling a trail of blood run down the side of my chin.

Welp, that’s not good.

The thought of my parents cross my mind briefly and I wonder if they think I didn’t show up because I simply don’t care about them anymore.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, but I’m not exactly in a position to prove them wrong right now, so I’ll just have to wait and see how this plays out before I can find them and fix things.

“. . . and now because you’ve decided to share our business with the world, I not only want you to retract your testimony. I also want you to turn yourself in and tell the police you set me up and that you’re behind all the money laundering and human trafficking,” Lex rambles and my eyes widen at what he’s asking of Lena.

“You sick fuck!” I spit, kicking and flailing again before looking directly at the camera. “Lena, you’re not doing this! You’re not going to prison for things he did. You’re not going to prison for me—“

“Shut up!”

This time the bat hits my temple, but because my arms are raised above my head, most of the blow lands on my upper arm.

It leaves the same throbbing pain behind as the one on my side and my whole body begins to tremble. Something wet and sticky runs down the side of my face and my hands are completely numb.

I’m going to die here.

“Easy there, Graves,” Lex warns his goon, glaring at me for interrupting once again. “We wouldn’t want to add another murder charge to your file now, would we?”

The bulky man grumbles and lowers the bat so he can kick at it in front of him

“I’ll do it, Lex. I swear. Please just stop,” Lena sobs on the other end of the line, but I can’t just let her go down for Lex’s crimes.

“No!” I choke out, thrashing around until, surprisingly, the rusty pipe I’m chained to breaks in half.

I fall to my knees, crying out in pain before stumbling to my feet.

I’m breathing heavily, stunned that I managed to actually break free before springing into action.

My hands are still chained together but that doesn’t stop me from tackling Lex’s goon.

He howls in surprise and lets go of the bat when we topple over.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears and an unfamiliar rage cursed through me as I grab the piece of chain that tied me to the pipe and wrap it around his neck.

He thrashes beneath me, choking as his face turns red, but I don’t let up as I watch the life drain out of him.

Before I get to finish the job though, the muffled sound of a gunshot rings out and I let go of the chain with a scream, clutching at my side where it feels like I’ve been hit by the bat again.

I fall to the side, writhing in pain just to see Lex standing over me with my gun in one hand and my phone in the other.

I hear Lena crying hysterically over the phone, obviously having witnessed what just happened, while Lex is just watching me with a mix of pity and disgust.

“I really didn’t want to do this, Y/N,” he says as though he just caught a child stealing candy, “but you left me no other choice.”

I grunt and shake my head, feeling tears streaming down my face.

“Fuck you,” I whisper. “You’re a wretched human being and you don’t deserve Lena.“

Lex chuckles menacingly before turning serious within a split second. He drops my phone and kneels beside my head, yanking at my hair so I’m forced to look at him.

“And you’re a nobody,” he says calmly. “Lena might be completely infatuated with you right now, but in time she’ll realize how pathetic you actually are.

“I know more about you than you think. You got your brother killed and for the last year you’ve been wallowing in self pity because of it. Oh, and you’re poor, let’s not forget about that. No one likes a charity case.”

My chest tightens painfully and I gather whatever strength I have left in me to spit in his face.

He freezes before letting go of my hair to wipe the saliva off his face. Then he gets back to his feet.

For a second I think he’s heading back to the computer to turn off the live feed, but then he spins back around with a menacing howl and starts kicking me in the stomach.

I sob and try to protect myself with my still bound hands but it’s of no use.

Every time his foot buries itself in my stomach the breath gets knocked out of me until I’m on the brink of passing out.

He stops as quickly as he started and smooths out his suit, making sure his cuff links are still in place.

“You know what to do, Lena,” he says, waving at the camera on the table. “If you don’t I’m letting Y/N bleed out, so you better be quick about it because there’s not much time left until it’s too late.”

I don’t hear Lena’s reply over the phone because it feels like I’m floating and everything is muffled, but I manage to drag myself forward the tiniest bit to whisper, “I’m sorry, Lena. I love you,” into the phone before passing out.

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Oops. Are we dead? I honestly don’t know yet. . .

*Not proofread yet

Tag list: @nerethos @orange15quote @nuianced-tck-enby @autorasexy @unexpected-character @nothisismax @wandatasha

[mysticsoniaowo]

The Muggle World

Please don't read my work or interact if you're under 14!! My works consist of some intimate touches and makeout sessions, and I don't want someone younger reading those!

A/N: Honestly, I’m not entirely proud of this one. I can’t shake the feeling that it doesn’t focus on Y/N and Minho as much as it should. Still, this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while now, and I couldn’t resist writing something with this concept. Also, I apologize if some words will be very much repeated or some sentences won't make sense, in this and other imagines, English is not my first language! And even if I'd like to think I'm good at it, I can still make mistakes.

Genre: Hogwarts AU + Love At First Sight

Pair: Hogwarts Ravenclaw Student Lee Know x High School Student Female Reader

Words: 8792

~~~

Minho and Jisung strolled through the bustling streets of Seoul on an early Saturday evening, surrounded by the vibrant city life.

The streets were crowded with people, and the air buzzed with the sounds of cars honking, engines revving, and the occasional bird chirping. The gentle hum of the wind added to the atmosphere, weaving through the mix of voices and city noise, making the whole scene feel alive with energy.

Spring had arrived, unusually warm for the season, and Hogwarts buzzed with life as students wandered the castle grounds and beyond. Jisung, however, had other plans. He chose to venture into the Muggle world, eager to visit an old friend.

Meanwhile, Minho had settled into the comfort of his Ravenclaw common room, content to spend the day minding his own business. But, as always, that relentless Hufflepuff, Jisung, had other ideas. Before Minho could utter a single word of protest, he found himself reluctantly dragged along, his quiet afternoon plans swiftly unraveling.

He let out a frustrated huff, glancing down at his outfit. A plain white t-shirt with short sleeves clung to his torso, paired with ripped blue jeans and black sneakers–simple, unremarkable, and far from what he was accustomed to.

As a pure-blood wizard, he was used to robes, finely tailored clothing, and, of course, the polished Ravenclaw uniform. This plain, mundane attire felt foreign.

But Jisung, ever the practical half-Muggle, had insisted it was better for blending into the Muggle world. With a resigned sigh, he had reluctantly agreed to trust Jisung's judgment, though he still felt entirely out of place.

"Why are these clothes so simple and boring?" Minho muttered under his breath, frowning as he tugged at the hem of his t-shirt.

Jisung, walking right beside him, caught the complaint and rolled his eyes, a teasing smile curling on his lips. He was well aware of how out of his element Minho felt, and it only fueled his desire to poke fun at the Ravenclaw.

"Oh, shut up, Lee," Jisung chuckled, giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder. "Be glad I even took you out. Otherwise, you'd still be holed up in your common room, bored out of your mind."

Minho shot Jisung a cold, sharp glance, his annoyance unmistakable in the way his eyes narrowed. The Hufflepuff's teasing and smug tone were clearly testing his patience, but he held his tongue.

Instead of snapping back, he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders subtly slumping as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, choosing silence over confrontation.

After walking for a while, Jisung abruptly came to a stop, startling Minho, who nearly bumped into him.

"Here we are!" Jisung exclaimed with a grin, his excitement bubbling over. The prospect of visiting a place he hadn't been to in ages and catching up with an old friend clearly thrilled him.

Minho glanced up at the building they stood before, his expression neutral, bordering on uninterested.

It was a quaint little café, marked by a large wooden sign hanging above the door. The sign, etched with the words "Nanny's Haven" in messy, hand-scraped letters, was decorated with simple coffee cup drawings. The windowsills were brimmed with vibrant flowers, their colors adding charm to the scene.

In front of the café, a small outdoor seating area was enclosed by a white wooden fence, its posts wrapped in blooming rose bushes. The tables, topped with umbrellas for shade, were set to seat six people each. Minho's sharp brown eyes took in the lively scene–groups of people chatting happily, sipping drinks, and enjoying their food under the warm afternoon sun.

He was accustomed to being around crowds at Hogwarts–whether at bustling events, or seated in the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But this was entirely different. He wasn't used to seeing so many Muggles in one place.

Their clothing mirrored the simplicity of what he and Jisung were wearing, blending in without drawing attention, though some outfits carried unique accents or pops of color. It was a far cry from the flowing robes and distinct house uniforms he grew up with. The sight was unfamiliar, almost strange, and yet oddly intriguing in its ordinariness.

Without warning, Jisung gave Minho a firm push forward, jolting him out of his thoughts. Minho stumbled slightly, his neutral expression quickly twisting into a glare as he shot Jisung another cold, sharp glance.

Jisung, unfazed by the look, only smirked in response. Letting out a quiet sigh of irritation, Minho straightened himself and, albeit unwillingly, began making his way toward the café entrance.

The two stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly, signaling their arrival.

Jisung wasted no time scanning the café, his eyes darting around the cozy interior in search of his friend. His gaze quickly landed on a girl balancing a tray of drinks and sweets, gracefully serving one of the tables. That girl was no other than you.

The Hufflepuff's eyes lit up instantly, a wide smile spreading across his face. He wanted nothing more than to stride over and pull you into a hug, but he knew better. You were clearly busy, and he respected the fact that you were working.

Still, a sense of calm washed over him as he watched you, confident that you'd notice him soon–just as you always did whenever he visited.

Meanwhile, Minho let his gaze wander, quietly examining the café's interior. It was even cozier than the outside, with an inviting warmth that felt almost homely.

Plants hung gracefully on the walls, interspersed with paintings and framed pictures, adding character to the space. The wooden tables, paired with white leather seats, were neatly arranged, each adorned with a small flower in a vase and a stack of tissues.

The inside was bustling with life, even more so than the outdoor seating. Nearly every table was occupied by people enjoying their meals and beverages or patiently waiting for their orders. It didn't take long for Minho to realize this café was clearly a popular spot.

In one corner, his attention was drawn to a large bookshelf brimming with an assortment of books. Beside it, a colorful mat lay spread out on the floor, scattered with toys. A handful of kids and toddlers were happily playing there, their laughter adding to the lively atmosphere. It was a small but thoughtful touch that added to the charm of the place.

Minho's eyes shifted as he noticed Jisung heading toward one of the empty tables, the Hufflepuff waving a hand to gesture to him to follow. With a small exhale, Minho complied, trailing after him.

As he walked, he couldn't help but admit, if only to himself, that he found the place somewhat appealing.

There was a warmth in the air, a comforting buzz of laughter and conversation mixed with the clinking of dishes. The thoughtful details–the flowers, the books, the playful energy from the children in the corner–all came together to create a surprisingly inviting atmosphere. He might not say it out loud, but he was starting to like it here.

~~~

You were busy working at your mother's café, Nanny's Haven, a place that had always felt like a second home to you.

It was a Saturday, and most people your age would probably prefer to relax at home, but not you. You've been working here since the first year of high school, and it has always been a place you loved.

The cozy, homey interior your mother had designed never failed to make you feel at peace. Not to mention, the sweets and drinks were always a hit–delicious, comforting, and made with care.

When you were younger, you'd beg your father to take you to the café after he picked you up from school, and he always did. It became a cherished routine.

So when you got older and your mom offered you the chance to help out, you didn't hesitate. It was the perfect opportunity–not just to be a part of something you loved, but also to earn your own money.

You worked mostly on weekends, when your schedule was freer, but sometimes you'd lend a hand during weekdays–provided you didn't have any homework, quizzes, or exams coming up. Your role mostly involved taking orders and delivering them to tables, ensuring everything ran smoothly out front.

Meanwhile, your mother handled the kitchen, preparing drinks with precision, while the sweets and breads were always made in advance. They were neatly arranged on the counter on either side of the cash register, ready to be handed out whenever a customer ordered.

It was a seamless routine, and you had become an expert in juggling orders while keeping the café running efficiently.

You were focused on delivering an order to a table, carefully balancing the drinks and desserts, that you didn't even hear the bell above the door jingle. It was the familiar sound that announced the arrival of a new customer, but in the midst of your task, you were completely unaware of it.

The café was busy today, and you were caught up in making sure everything was just right for the table you were serving.

After placing the last drink and dessert on the table, you shared one final warm smile with the customers before making your way back behind the counter, carefully putting your tray away.

You let out a soft sigh, running a hand through your messy hair, feeling the weight of the day settling in on you.

It had been like this nonstop since the café opened, with customers coming and going, and though it was exhausting, you couldn't help but love it.

The steady rhythm of the work, the satisfaction of keeping everything running smoothly–it was something that never lost its charm for you.

As you tidied up behind the counter, you suddenly noticed a hand waving at you from a table across the room.

Squinting slightly to get a better look, you instantly recognized the familiar face–Jisung.

A wide grin spread across your lips at the sight of him. It wasn't every day that he stopped by, and it always brought you a wave of happiness when he did.

Jisung had been an old friend of yours, practically inseparable during your childhood. The two of you went to the same kindergarten and shared the same class for years in elementary school.

You could still vividly recall the times his parents, often busy with work, allowed him to tag along with you and your father to the café. Those visits were filled with laughter as you sampled the newest baked goods together, ran around the café chasing each other, played on the children's mat, or flipped through fairy tales from the bookshelf.

But things had changed when Jisung went to Hogwarts. You lost regular contact, though he still made the effort to visit the café whenever he could–just like today.

As your gaze flicked to the table, you noticed something unusual: Jisung wasn't alone this time.

Sitting across from him was another guy, someone you couldn't help but admit was quite handsome. It was unusual–Jisung always came alone–but you didn't mind the change. In fact, you were curious about who this new companion might be.

The guy sitting opposite Jisung was clearly different from your bubbly friend. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his gaze was fixed on the table with an indifferent, almost cold expression.

There was something about his demeanor that intrigued you. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, yet his reserved nature made him seem distant.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was one of those people who appeared tough on the outside but were actually a softie underneath. The thought lingered in your mind as you studied him briefly from where you were standing.

Finally, you grabbed the menu from the counter, along with your pad and pen, and made your way over to their table.

Over the years, you've grown accustomed to the different types of customers who came into the café. Some preferred to walk up to the counter and browse the menu for themselves, while others liked having the menu brought directly to them. You didn't mind either way–it was all part of the job.

As you approached the table, you couldn't help but glance at Jisung, knowing full well that he didn't need the menu. He had it practically memorized from his countless visits. However, the stranger sitting across from him was another story. You could tell he'd need a menu to figure out what to order, and you were ready to help.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho noticed Jisung excitedly waving at someone across the café, but he didn't pay it much attention. He'd much rather be back in the quiet comfort of his common room, curled up with his beloved cats.

The Hufflepuff's behavior was starting to get on his nerves, though. It wasn't that he disliked Jisung–far from it. It was just that today, Jisung seemed unusually energetic, more so than usual, and Minho found himself wishing for the calm, predictable routine he was used to.

Minho's attention was suddenly pulled away from Jisung as a figure started walking up to their table. His gaze instinctively followed you, curiosity creeping into his mind. Were you the person Jisung had been so eager to see?

You were holding a pad and pen, with a menu tucked under your arm. You wore simple, casual clothes, blending in with the rest of the crowd. The only distinguishing feature was the soft, light brown apron you wore, emblazoned with the café's name.

It was an unassuming look, but for some reason, something in Minho stirred as he watched you approach the table. He couldn't quite place it, but there was an undeniable pull in the way you moved, a quiet presence that caught his attention more than he anticipated. But his focus shifted once again to the table before him.

Soon enough, you arrived at Jisung's table, and the moment you did, the boy nearly jumped out of his seat, excitement radiating off him. It was a sight that always made you smile.

Jisung had always been like this–whenever he hadn't seen you for a while, he acted like a child on Christmas morning, eager and giddy. His energy was infectious, and it never failed to make you feel warmly welcomed. You couldn't help but laugh softly at his enthusiasm–it was endearing, to say the least.

"Y/N, finally! I thought you would never come!" Jisung exclaimed, a big grin spreading across his face.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his dramatic words–it hadn't been that long. "Hello to you too, Sungie," you teased, your tone light.

Then, your expression softened as you looked at him, the warmth of familiarity washing over you. It had been too long since the last time you've seen each other. "How long has it been? Two months? Three?" you asked, genuinely curious as you tried to recall the last time your paths had crossed.

"Three and a half. Not that I've been counting," Jisung chuckled. He let out a huff, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table as he looked at you, letting out an exaggerated exhale. "You know what it's like. Hogwarts is very demanding and adventurous," he added with a playful shrug, as if to explain his absence.

His words carried a mix of fondness and frustration, as if he was both proud and slightly overwhelmed by the constant whirlwind that was his life at Hogwarts.

You nodded in understanding, knowing all too well from the countless stories Jisung had shared with you what his life was like in the magical world of Hogwarts.

You didn't blame him for not visiting more often; you completely understood. After all, he had his own set of privileges, and you had yours.

"I can imagine," you said, smiling gently. "It's probably definitely harder than my normal high school." You chuckled lightly, knowing your own life, though challenging at times, couldn't quite compare to the whirlwind of adventure and responsibility Jisung faced every day.

Jisung's expression softened as he tried to steer the conversation toward you. "What about you? How have you been?" he asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice. He knew you had work, but he couldn't help it–he hadn't seen you in so long and was desperate to catch up on everything.

Your smile widened, the familiar rhythm of your life feeling comforting to talk about. "Well, you know, the same as always," you replied, shrugging lightly. "School, work, home." You paused for a moment, then added with a brighter tone, "But I'm a step closer to graduation, so that's a good thing!" Your smile turned into a more reliefd one, the thought of finishing this chapter of your life bringing a sense of excitement and anticipation.

Jisung nodded, a warm smile on his face as he listened to you. He knew that you were finishing high school much faster than he was finishing his time at Hogwarts, and he couldn't help but feel happy and proud for you. He remembered all the plans you had shared with him for after graduation, and he couldn't wait to see you fulfill them.

"Ah, right!" Jisung suddenly exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with realization. He turned his attention toward the Ravenclaw sitting across from him, almost as if he had forgotten he was there.

"Y/N, this is Minho," he said, gesturing toward the boy. "Minho, this is Y/N. Minho is also a student at Hogwarts, though he's in Ravenclaw." He gave a quick, friendly smile to Minho, eager to introduce the two of you to one another.

Minho sat quietly, listening to the conversation, his focus not once wavering from the table before him. He furrowed his brows as he heard Hogwarts being mentioned so casually. The way Jisung spoke about it as if it were nothing, sharing details of his life there with you, made him pause.

Weren't Muggles unaware of the magical world? How was it that you knew about it? And why was Jisung speaking so openly with you about it? His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his name being called, with the Hufflepuff introducing him to you.

Minho looked up at you, his gaze swiftly moving on your form. His expression remained mostly indifferent, but there was a subtle shift–a slight nervousness in the way he held himself.

"Ah, uh, hello," he said quietly, bowing his head briefly in greeting. He wasn't sure how to act. This was the first time he'd spoken to a Muggle, and it felt strangely unfamiliar.

Jisung, noticing Minho's awkwardness, couldn't help but silently snicker. He had known Minho for so long that he could read him like an open book, easily spotting his discomfort.

You, on the other hand, offered Minho a warm, welcoming smile as you spoke. "Hello, welcome to Nanny's Haven. I hope you will enjoy your first visit here. I'm Y/N, though you probably know that by now."

Minho felt a strange flutter in his chest as he met your gaze, and for a moment, his insides churned. He didn't know why he was feeling this way–it was definitely something unfamiliar to him.

But your smile, so genuine and kind, seemed to have an effect on him, much like a spell he couldn't explain. It was disorienting but oddly comforting, and Minho found himself momentarily lost in the warmth of it.

After your greeting, you couldn't help but take a moment to study Minho's features more closely. Up close, he was even more striking than you had first thought.

His black hair was neatly styled, though a few strands fell over his eyes, giving him a slightly effortless charm. You noticed that it was slightly longer at the back, adding a subtle edge to his look.

His brown eyes, at first glance, were filled with nothing but nonchalance, cold and unreadable. Yet, as you continued to look, you caught the briefest flicker of something softer in them–a fleeting glimmer of curiosity mixed with confusion that disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

You couldn't help but wonder if Minho's reserved exterior was a reflection of his personality, his Hogwarts house, or perhaps a mix of both.

Jisung had told you plenty about how the Sorting Hat assigned students to their houses based on their core traits, emphasizing that it was often a deep and telling process. But you also remembered him mentioning that sometimes a person's true nature–what lay beneath the surface–was very different from the image they presented to the world.

The thought lingered in your mind as you observed Minho's composed demeanor, his sharp eyes, and the way he seemed to hold himself with quiet confidence. You found yourself curious about what kind of person he truly was beneath the indifferent exterior.

Finally snapping out of your thoughts–and the unintentional staring that you hoped the Ravenclaw hadn't noticed–you turned your attention back to Jisung. "What will you order today? The usual?" you asked with a slight smirk, already confident you knew the answer.

Jisung chuckled, nodding his head in affirmation. "You know it," he replied, his tone light and playful.

Your gaze dropped to your pad as you gripped the pen firmly and began scribbling down the order. "One cheesecake with blueberry syrup plus a latte macchiato with double whipped cream and strawberries," you recited aloud as you wrote, the familiar combination rolling off your tongue with ease.

You then took the menu that you had tucked under your arm and handed it toward Minho. As you did, you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze was fixed on you, his eyes holding an intensity that made your cheeks flush softly.

Clearing your throat, you smiled slightly, trying to compose yourself. "Here, you'll need it," you said, your voice steady despite the sudden heat in your face.

Minho accepted the menu from your hand with a small nod of thanks, his expression remaining neutral. He held it firmly, his brown eyes scanning the options listed on the pages.

The array of unfamiliar names and combinations immediately reminded him of how little he knew about Muggle food and beverages. This was his first time in such a place, and everything seemed foreign. He figured he would simply choose whatever caught his attention the most, trusting his instincts rather than overthinking.

As Minho flipped through the menu, his attention was suddenly drawn to one of the drink pictures. His eyes focused on the intricate details of what appeared to be an edible brown cat perched delicately atop a swirl of whipped cream. It was small, almost cartoonish, and something about it intrigued him. A faint thought crossed his mind: how did Muggles manage to create something so precise and whimsical? Regardless, he knew immediately that he would order it.

As for something to eat, he glanced over the options but found himself unsure. The descriptions were unfamiliar, and he didn't want to take a chance on something that might not suit his taste. Instead, he decided he'd ask for your opinion. It wasn't like him to rely on others, but for some reason, he felt that your suggestion might lead him to something worthwhile.

You stood there patiently, giving Minho the time he needed to decide. You weren't about to rush him, especially since it was clear he was unfamiliar with the menu and likely the entire concept of a café like this. You kept your gaze soft and welcoming, ready to answer any questions or offer suggestions if needed.

Meanwhile, Jisung, ever the observant one, discreetly shifted his gaze between you and Minho. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips as he took in the subtle yet undeniable chemistry that seemed to linger between the two of you. It wasn't much, but to Jisung, it was obvious. At that moment, he silently patted himself on the back, declaring this outing a success for having brought Minho here today.

Minho finally looked up from the menu, his gaze meeting yours for the briefest moment before flickering back to the page where the drink that caught his attention was pictured. His expression remained composed, but you could tell he was about to speak.

"I'll take the..." Minho paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he squinted at the menu, carefully reading the name of the drink that had caught his eye.

He didn't want to make a mistake and embarrass himself, especially not in front of you. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke, his tone uncertain. "Mocha... frappuccino?" The word rolled off his tongue awkwardly, the statement sounding more like a question than a confident order.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly, as if searching for confirmation that he'd said it correctly.

You nodded your head reassuringly, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. "You got it," you said, your voice carrying a hint of pride.

There was something unexpectedly endearing about the way he hesitated over the name of the drink, his usual indifferent demeanor giving way to a glimpse of uncertainty. It was a small moment, but it made him seem innocent, almost adorable, in a way that contrasted sharply with the cold exterior he seemed to carry.

"Do you want something to eat, or just the drink?" you asked gently, gesturing to the side of the menu with the assortment of sweets using your pen. Your tone was light, giving him the space to decide without any pressure.

Minho hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering briefly toward the menu again before meeting yours. His voice came out quiet, almost unsure, as he handed the menu back to you. "What... do you recommend?"

The simplicity of his question caught you slightly off guard, but it also made your heart soften. There was something so unexpectedly humble about him asking for your suggestion, given his aloof demeanor. You accepted the menu with a small nod.

"There are many amazing sweets–or breads, if that's more your taste–that we make here, and they're quite popular," you began, your tone gentle as you tucked the menu securely under your arm. For a moment, you seemed to drift into your own thoughts, gently tapping your pen against the pad in your hand.

"But personally," you continued, a wodę grin spreading across your face, "I really like the macaroons!" There was a genuine enthusiasm in your voice as you mentioned your favorite treat, your eyes lighting up slightly at the thought of the delicate, colorful confections. It was clear that you weren't just making a suggestion; you truly enjoyed them yourself.

Minho felt his heart do an unexpected somersault as he observed you. The way your voice lit with cheerful enthusiasm and the way your eyes sparkled when you mentioned macarons–it reminded him of the same joy he felt whenever he talked about his beloved cats. The thought stirred something unfamiliar yet warm inside him, and he couldn't deny that the way you spoke made you look utterly adorable in his eyes.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he spoke, his tone soft but firm. "Then, I'll take the macarons."

There was a quiet confidence in his words, almost as if he had made the decision not just to try them but to trust your judgment entirely.

That smile–barely there, fleeting like a shadow–didn't escape your notice. It was subtle, but it had a surprising effect, making your chest flutter with butterflies. And his soft tone, so unlike his seemingly nonchalant exterior, only added to the warmth that now colored your expression.

You didn't say anything, but the gentle smile on your lips spoke volumes. With your pen poised, you quickly jotted down the last item, finishing the action with a quick, confident nod.

"Got it. Your order will be ready soon!" you announced warmly, your voice carrying a slight lilt of excitement. With one last smile–and a quick, almost instinctive glance back at Minho–you turned and headed toward the kitchen, the soft click of your shoes blending into the ambient chatter of the café.

As you walked away, Minho's gaze instinctively followed, lingering on your retreating figure until you vanished behind the door to the kitchen.

He blinked once, then twice, as if snapping himself out of whatever spell he'd just been under. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the table–only to find Jisung staring at him with a knowing smirk plastered across his face and a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes.

Minho raised a questioning eyebrow, his expression as neutral as ever, though his curiosity was piqued. "What?" he asked, his tone laced with confusion, unable to comprehend why the Hufflepuff was looking at him like that.

Jisung simply shrugged, a casual air about him that didn't match the mischievous grin still tugging at his lips. "Nothing," he said, dragging out the word just enough to make it sound suspicious.

Then, with a dramatic pause for effect, he leaned in closer, his elbows slipping onto the table as he propped himself up. His smirk deepened, and his voice dropped to a teasing whisper. "You like her already," he accused, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, as if the idea was the most entertaining thing in the world.

Minho scoffed, his jaw clenching as he tried to brush off Jisung's words. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his tone calm, though the slight shift in his gaze betrayed his unease.

He wanted to deny it, to insist that Jisung was just imagining things. After all, he had just met you. How could he possibly feel anything more than fleeting curiosity? But deep down, the stirrings in his chest told a different story–a story that made him question if Jisung's teasing held a grain of truth.

Jisung snorted loudly, clearly unimpressed by Minho's attempt to feign indifference. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, a triumphant smirk still plastered on his face. "Oh, come on, don't even try to deny it," he said, shaking his head.

Minho raised an eyebrow, his expression cool, but he could feel the warmth creeping up to his ears.

"It's obvious," Jisung continued, his voice filled with amusement. "The way you looked at her? Like you were studying every detail of her face. And don't even get me started on that tiny little smile. You rarely ever smile, but you did for her. That says a lot."

Minho opened his mouth to retort but quickly shut it, deciding that saying anything would only make Jisung's argument stronger. Instead, he let out a low huff, averting his eyes as he muttered, "You're imagining things."

Jisung couldn't resist the urge to push further, to tease Minho just a little more. It was simply too endearing seeing the usually composed Ravenclaw so flustered. But, for now, he decided to hold back, much to Minho's relief.

Then, a thought crossed his mind. "I saw the way you became confused when me and Y/N talked about Hogwarts," Jisung began, his voice casual, but it instantly caught Minho's attention. He lifted his gaze, his curiosity sparking. "You're probably wondering how she knows about all of it, right?"

Minho's interest surged even more, the question that had been nagging him now voiced aloud. He nodded, eager for an answer.

Jisung let out a soft exhale, his mind drifting back to the past. "Well, it's a long story, but also pretty simple," he began, his gaze shifting to the window. Minho followed his line of sight, captivated by the view–the trees outside were blooming, their new growth a symbol of fresh beginnings.

Jisung's smile softened as he continued, "Y/N and I were childhood friends. Before Hogwarts, I went to a regular kindergarten, and that's where we met." He leaned back in his seat, lost in the memory. "We clicked instantly, and from that moment on, we were inseparable. Her dad would often take me with her to this café–her mom owns it. My parents, always busy with their Muggle jobs, didn't mind."

His eyes drifted to the table, elbows resting on it. "Since she was my best friend, I never kept anything from her. Her family believes in the supernatural, so when I told her my mom was a full-blooded wizard, she didn't doubt me. Then came the Hogwarts invitation, and, to our surprise, she got one too."

Minho's eyes widened slightly, processing Jisung's revelation. You were invited to study at Hogwarts? The question surfaced in his mind, quickly followed by another. Then why aren't you there now? His confusion deepened, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"If she got an invitation, then why isn't she at Hogwarts?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Jisung, seeking clarity.

Jisung leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "The reason is simple. She didn't want to leave everything behind–her normal life. She's deeply connected to her parents and this café, and the thought of leaving it all didn't sit right with her. Plus, she admitted she'd be too lazy to study all those magical things," he added with a soft chuckle, his tone light.

Minho couldn't help but let a gentle smile grace his lips at Jisung's explanation. "I get it," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "I guess not everyone is cut out for a life like that. But it must have been hard for her, turning down an opportunity like Hogwarts."

He leaned back, pondering for a moment before adding, "Still, I bet she must have her own kind of magic in this café, keeping things running effortlessly."

Jisung's expression shifted back to one of teasing as he caught the gentle smile on Minho's lips, a smile he hadn't bothered to hide this time. And those words–oh, Minho was definitely whipped. Jisung couldn't help but grin at the sight.

Minho, however, noticed the mischievous glint in his friend's eyes coming back and quickly straightened up, his cheeks flushing slightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to regain his composure. "I-uh, what?"

"And you dare to say that you don't like her? What nonsense," Jisung said with a teasing smirk. But as soon as he saw you approaching their table, tray in hand with desserts and two drinks, he quickly shut his mouth.

Minho, catching sight of you too, shot Jisung a sharp warning glare, silently reminding him to keep quiet.

You walked slowly toward their table, carefully balancing the tray with desserts and drinks in your hands. You always made sure to be extra cautious, especially after a few mishaps when you first started working at Nanny's Haven. Those days of clumsy spills were long gone, and you didn't want to repeat them.

While Minho and Jisung chatted, you had been in the kitchen helping your mother prepare the drinks. She had taken care of Jisung's order, while you focused on Minho's Mocha Frappuccino.

You stuck to the usual recipe but decided to add your own little twist. Instead of just one cookie shaped like a cat on the whipped cream, you added three, it was a detail that seemed to catch Minho's eye. You couldn't quite explain why you chose three, but it just felt right. Before finishing, you drizzled a bit of caramel syrup over the whipped cream and topped it with a few simple black grapes, creating the perfect touch to complement his drink.

After the drinks were finished, you carefully placed them on a black tray and carried it over to the counter where all the sweets were displayed. Setting the tray down next to the cashier, you turned to the glass case where the desserts were kept. You quickly picked out Jisung's cheesecake onto a plate, drizzling a generous amount of blueberry syrup over it, knowing it was his favorite.

For Minho, however, you hesitated. The macarons were next, and you faced a small dilemma: the regular round ones or the heart-shaped ones you'd made yourself. Your hand hovered for a moment, but eventually, you chose the heart-shaped macarons. Picking out an assortment of colors, each with a different flavor, you placed them carefully onto a small dish. Satisfied with your choices, you put the plates onto the tray, ready to serve.

As you approached the boys' table, you couldn't help but notice the tension lingering in the air. It wasn't the comfortable kind, either–it felt awkward and heavy. Your gaze instinctively went to Jisung first. He was staring out the window with a smirk playing on his lips, seemingly amused by something.

Then your eyes shifted to Minho. His posture was closed off, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. His scowl was hard to miss, but what caught your attention even more was the faint redness dusting his cheeks. What was that about? you wondered.

Still, you decided not to press further. Whatever it was, it wasn't your place to pry. Shaking off your curiosity, you focused on your work.

You carefully set the tray down on the table, making sure not to disturb the tension-filled atmosphere. With a small, polite smile, you began placing their orders.

First was Jisung's cheesecake, topped with a generous drizzle of blueberry syrup that gleamed under the light. Beside it, you placed his latte macchiato, knowing your mother had made it just the way he liked–strong yet perfectly balanced with creamy foam and strawberries.

Next came Minho's mocha frappuccino. The drink was topped with whipped cream, caramel drizzle, black grapes, and the special touch of three cat-shaped cookies, just the way you had made it earlier. Beside it, you delicately set the plate of heart-shaped macarons, their vibrant colors adding a cheerful touch to the table.

"Please enjoy your meals," you said softly as you picked up the–now empty–tray from their table. Your tone was warm but professional, a subtle blend of friendliness and focus.

"I'd love to stay and chat some more," you continued, your gaze flickering briefly between them, "but unfortunately, I have work to do. New clients have already come in, and today's quite a busy day." You nodded toward the bustling café, where a few new faces were settling in.

With a quick but graceful turn, you headed back toward the counter, ready to tend to the next tasks awaiting you.

As you walked away, Jisung wasted no time diving into his dessert and drink, clearly enjoying the treat. Meanwhile, Minho's gaze lingered on you once again, his eyes following your every step as you headed toward the counter. He couldn't help himself; it was as if he was drawn to you, an invisible pull he couldn't resist.

He blinked once, then twice, snapping himself out of his thoughts before turning back to his order.

His eyes immediately landed on the drink, and his breath hitched. It looked even better than the picture in the menu. The three cat-shaped cookies nestled on the whipped cream struck a chord–he couldn't ignore the fact that their number matched the number of his cats in real life. It was a detail that felt oddly personal, even though he knew you couldn't possibly know about that. The caramel syrup and black grapes added a sweet, elegant touch, and the heart-shaped macarons were undeniably charming.

Curious, he lifted the mocha frappuccino, taking a slow sip from the straw. The sweetness flooded his taste buds, and he couldn't stop the quiet hum of approval that escaped his lips. It was delicious, unlike anything he'd ever had at Hogwarts, and somehow it felt perfect.

His gaze drifted back to you, now standing at the counter, taking a customer's order with that radiant smile on your face. Minho felt his heart flutter unexpectedly, a tender, unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe, just maybe Jisung was right. Maybe he really did like you.

~~~

After that visit to Nanny's Haven, Minho found it nearly impossible to focus on his studies. He tried, again and again, to shake off the new and strange feelings swirling inside him–feelings he hadn't experienced before. But no matter how hard he tried, they persisted, as did Jisung's teasing words about him liking you. The thought gnawed at him, stubbornly refusing to leave his mind.

He kept replaying the memory of that day, unable to stop himself from thinking about you. Your smile, your voice, the way you carried yourself–it was as though every detail about you had etched itself into his thoughts. And Jisung's constant bickering didn't help. If anything, it made him more aware of how often you crept into his mind.

Minho felt conflicted. How could this even happen? He, a full-blooded wizard, falling for a Muggle? It wouldn't be so complicated if you were at Hogwarts, if you were someone he saw every day, someone he truly knew. But you weren't. You lived a different life, outside the magical world, and he didn't know you well enough. And yet, the feelings remained, confusing and unshakable.

It was the first time Minho had ever felt like this–so conflicted, so unsure of himself.

As a Ravenclaw, he prided himself on being composed, logical, and in control. But now? All of that had been thrown out the window, and it was all because of a certain Muggle girl.

The thought of you left him flustered, his usually sharp mind muddled with emotions he didn't know how to handle. It was uncharted territory for him, and no amount of reasoning or self-discipline seemed to help. You had managed to undo the carefully built walls of the composed Ravenclaw, leaving him vulnerable in a way he'd never experienced before.

That's why Minho found himself standing in front of Nanny's Haven once again, but this time, he was alone–no teasing Hufflepuff by his side. It had been a whole week since he'd last seen you, since everything had started to shift in his mind and heart. The uncertainty, the confusion, the feelings he couldn't shake. He needed to settle it, to understand what was going on.

He had come to a decision, one that surprised even him. The best way to deal with it was to face you, to show you in his own quiet, unspoken way the depth of the feelings he had for you. He might not have the words yet, but he was ready to act, to be there for you in the way he hadn't been before.

It was a quiet Saturday at Nanny's Haven, and you were busy, though not with the usual rush of clients. Today was calm, so you were focused on training your newest worker, Eunchae, a first-year high schooler who was still getting the hang of things. It was only her third day, so there were still plenty of things she needed to learn, and you had just finished explaining how the cashier system worked.

As you wrapped up your instructions, the bell above the door jingled, signaling the arrival of a new customer.

You looked up, your attention drawn to the figure standing in the doorway. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him–Minho. He was standing there, looking around for a moment before his eyes found yours.

The moment his eyes met yours, your heart soared, a warmth spreading through your chest. There was something comforting about his presence, something that made the air between you feel a little lighter.

As you stood there, a quiet curiosity began to stir within you. You couldn't help but notice that he was alone today, without the company of Jisung. The question lingered in your mind: Why was he here by himself? You quickly pushed the thought aside, but it kept poking at you, adding an unexpected layer of intrigue to the moment.

You exchanged a brief conversation with Eunchae, making sure she would be fine handling things on her own while you took a moment to talk with Minho. She nodded eagerly, assuring you she'd call if anything came up.

With no new clients to attend to, you found yourself with a bit of free time, and you couldn't ignore the urge to speak with Minho.

You made your way over to the table where he had seated himself, your footsteps quick but steady. The closer you got, the more you could feel the anticipation building inside you, wondering what this conversation might bring.

As you approached, Minho glanced up, meeting your gaze again. A soft smile graced his lips, and for a moment, you felt your heart skip. He seemed calm, though there was a subtle tension in his posture, like he was working through something in his mind.

"Hey," you greeted warmly as you reached his table, your voice gentle but curious. "It's good to see you again. You're alone today?"

Minho nodded, his gaze flickering to the table for a brief second before returning to you. "Yeah, I thought I'd stop by on my own this time. Jisung can be... a lot," he said with a faint chuckle, his tone light but sincere.

You smiled at that, pulling out a chair to sit across from him. "Well, welcome back. What brings you here today? Just craving more of our desserts, or something else?" you teased, trying to ease the tension you sensed lingering in the air.

Minho hesitated for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of the table. "Actually," he started, his voice quieter now, "I wanted to see you."

Your eyes widened slightly at his words, and a rush of butterflies filled your chest. He came here to see you? It wasn't something you had expected, but it wasn't something you'd ever complain about either. The thought alone was oddly satisfying.

As you studied him, you noticed the way his gaze shifted downward, following the movements of his fingers as they traced the edge of the table. His usual composure was nowhere to be found; instead, he seemed tense–no, nervous.

"You came to tell me something, didn't you?" you asked gently, a mild smile tugging at your lips.

Resting your elbows on the table, you leaned in slightly, closing the distance between you just enough to show you were listening.

You could read him like an open book, the way his body language practically screamed uncertainty. Yet, in that moment, your own feelings mixed with curiosity and hope. You had a feeling, a gut instinct about what he might want to say. And while you weren't entirely sure, you hoped you were right. But you weren't going to make it easy for him. You wanted to hear it straight from him, in his own words.

Minho felt the heat rush to his ears at your question, his nerves flaring up even more. It was exactly why he was here–he wanted to tell you everything. The way you occupied his thoughts, how his feelings had grown into something he couldn't ignore. If he didn't get it out soon, he felt like he might lose his mind.

He nodded softly, his gaze lifting to meet yours, the sincerity in his brown eyes almost palpable.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. "But honestly, I have no idea how to even begin this."

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his seat as if trying to steady himself. He looked almost as though he wanted to sink into the chair and disappear, the vulnerability of the moment pressing heavily on him. But even through his awkwardness, there was a determination in his expression–a clear sign that he wasn't going to back down.

Minho took a deep breath, his eyes briefly closing as he tried to gather his thoughts. He bit his lip, clearly searching for the right words to say, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

When he opened his eyes again, they locked with yours, an intensity in them that made your breath hitch. Slowly, he leaned forward, resting his hands on the table, his fingers fidgeting nervously as if to channel his unease.

"I know we don't know each other that well," he began, his voice was calm but firm. "You're Jisung's friend, and honestly... we've only really talked once, and even then, it wasn't much of a conversation."

His gaze wavered for just a second before returning to yours, his sincerity clear despite his obvious nerves.

Minho took another deep breath, his fingers still fiddling with one another as he pressed on. "But even with that, there's just... something about you. I can't explain it. Ever since that day, I can't stop thinking about you. It's like you've somehow found your way into my head, and no matter what I do, I can't get you out."

He leaned back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze briefly flickered to the side, almost as if he were afraid of your reaction. But then he looked back at you, his eyes soft but filled with an unmistakable vulnerability.

"I know it's probably crazy," he said with a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I mean, we barely know each other, but... I want to change that. I want to get to know you better."

He paused, his voice lowering, almost as if the next words were meant for you alone. "I guess what I'm trying to say is... I like you. And I don't know where this will go, but I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore."

Your cheeks burned hotter with every word Minho spoke, each syllable sinking into your heart and setting it alight.

You had suspected this was what he wanted to say, but hearing it aloud was something else entirely. His vulnerability, the openness in his eyes, tugged at your chest. It was a stark contrast to the composed boy you'd met that first day.

A gentle smile curved your lips as you held his gaze. He thought it was crazy–his feelings, his confession–but if that was true, then you must have been even crazier, because it didn't feel strange or out of place to you at all.

Every word he spoke mirrored the emotions you'd been holding inside. From the moment you first saw him, there had been something magnetic about him, something that pulled you in effortlessly.

Without a second thought, you reached out and took his hand where it rested on the table, your fingers lacing together with his. The warmth of the touch sent a shiver of electricity coursing through both of you, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away.

"I like you too, Minho," you said softly, your voice steady but filled with emotion. Your eyes locked with his, the sincerity in your gaze mirroring his own. "I feel exactly the same way about you."

Minho's breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly before a delicate, almost disbelieving smile broke across his face. His fingers tightened gently around yours, and in that quiet, shared moment, everything felt right.

"I'd be more than happy to get to know you more and see where this could go," you added, your voice light but sincere. "But I have a feeling... this could turn into something big."

Minho's expression softened even more, his lips curving into a wider smile. Without breaking eye contact, he brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. The tender gesture sent a rush of warmth through you, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

"Then," he said softly, his gaze steady and full of quiet hope, "are you up for a date tomorrow?"

Your lips parted in surprise before you nodded, a bright smile spreading across your face. "Of course," you replied, the excitement in your voice unmistakable.

You remembered you had work tomorrow, but the thought didn't dampen your mood. You were sure your mom would understand if you explained. She'd been teasing you about finding someone for what felt like forever. If you told her you needed the day for a date, she'd probably clear your schedule with a wink and a knowing smile.

As you sat there with Minho, a sense of anticipation and joy bubbled within you. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Hey, I love your Junkan art! Just was wondering, you recommended VanadisValentine 's work, which I agree with as I love all their Junkan stuff... but I was wondering, do you have any other Junkan recommendations? Would love to hear them if you do! (Ps. I haven't finished your blood bag work but what I have read of it so far I'm loving!)

Why thankyou for this question! First off glad you like all of the Junkan stuff so far, it's been a labor of love (and obsession) that took 9 months but seeing all the positive reactions has made it all worth it! As for recommendations, I am happy to oblige. I'll admit I haven't read every single Junkan Fic there is, I have made it a habit to go on a crazy binge of as much Junkan as I can, I go through every single page on AO3 and read anything tagged as soft (along with anything that looks like it was worth the risk.)

Hell when it comes to Junkan fics I literally have the Junko/Mikan tag for AO3 bookmarked and right at the top of my screen so I can click anytime, and I'm sure I still have plenty of fics left to read whether it's on this site or somewhere else hidden deep within google search. So if anyone wants to go in the comments/reblogs and give recommendations or even shill their own stuff go right ahead!~

Be sure to remember these, they'll be on the test later (this is foreshadowing) So do allow me to give you the long list of fics to read when you're feeling the vibe

I've already recommended VanadisValentine's works in previous posts, however for the sake of a complete list I'll still put em here.

The Marvelous Makeover of Mikan Tsumiki - VanadisValentine (Absolute Classic, also just really fun to say)

Everything You've Ever Dreamed - VanadisValentine (Quite possibly one of my favorite Fanfics just in general)

Turn Out the Lights - VanadisValentine (More focused on the characters separated along with their thoughts on the relationship but it's a great fic for when you're in the mood)

When Am I Gonna Lose You? - VanadisValentine (An 18+ Fic just as a warning, but if you're old enough and looking for something in that field this is an amazing piece, even with all my skill in the field of drawing funny pictures I don't think I could depict anything near as beautiful as the descriptions featured here. Does that sound pretentious? Yes! But I know what I am lol.) Year of Love and Despair - VanadisValentine (Last one from her on this list, also ongoing! If you want a variety of stories of these two ranging from fluffy to dramatic to sometimes even saucy then this fic is the place for you. Genuine highlight of my year and has helped me get through the tougher days very often. You can also look and see my really excessively long comments on most of the chapters!~)

Living in a Crazy Parallel World - Yurikah (Fair warning, this one is very long, isn't 100% Junkan Focused, and is also unfinished with it's last update being awhile ago. That said I think if you can make peace with that going into it you'll be in for a very well written treat!~)

Soft (But Only for Her) - Kayleen756894 (When I first got into Junkan I had only read a small handful of fics from AO3, this was one of them and I went through it in a single night. Extremely fun experience that covers a wide variety of ideas for Junkan. Fluffy, Tragic, it's the whole nine yards. There's gotta be at least one story in this collection that will appeal to someone if they like this ship)

Smile - Kayleen756894 (Truly amazing, one of the all time Junkan Fics out there. It can be a very stressful read but oh so very worth it in my opinion. And for those who want a fic closer to canon in terms of character depictions while still being on the softer side I think this will satisfy heavily)

Hurt, Hold, Heal - Kayleen756894 (Do you like Junko helping Mikan through a Panic Attack? Do you like Junko trying to be a better person? Do you like Mikan helping Junko just as much as Junko helps her? Oh look it's the fic for you. The ending is really sweet too)

Tomorrow is Lonely - Kayleen756894 (Also 18+, arguably even more than the previous one on the list. Check the tags before you read and if that sounds like something you're into go for it. Me personally I gotta be in a very specific headspace first but when I do read it I enjoy myself, it's real cute and has a lot of great little character moments)

Protectors in Red - Kayleen756894 (Extremely good! Also features Mukuro! So if that's a selling point then I'm sure it'll vibe)

Forgive Me, My Beloved - Gloomy_snake (Significantly out of my normal comfort zone and definitely not what one would expect compared to the other fics here, but an enjoyable read. And if you like Doomed Yuri, it's got plenty packed in.)

Drowning - aparticularbandit (Extremely inspiring piece of writing featuring Alter Ego Junko instead of Original Recipe Junko!)

A Night for Two - TheGreatWave74 (Cute fic with the girlies at the pool)

what's better than this, girls havin fun - oxidize (A Chatfic! It might not give the same lasting impact as other fics on the list, however this was the fic that introduced me to the very idea of Soft Junkan, so I will always cherish it, and make sure to re-read it every now and again for the sentimental value)

Burning Lungs - oxidize (Another unfinished fic, I remember that put me off from reading it for awhile. However when I finally did I got pretty invested, which left the cliffhanger on the last chapter all the more stinging. Hope the author is doin' well! Anyway, great fic, might go a bit overboard on the darker aspects of Mikan and Junko's backstories so be warned, but even with that in mind I enjoyed myself and find myself imagining the potential turns it could have taken. And watching Junko's feelings slow burn into existence was really pleasant, especially as her dynamic with Mikan continues)

School Life of Mutual Loving - MarySutcliff (A Compilation of various fics from various ships, 3 of which are Soft Junkan. I've only read the first two, but if you enjoy them I imagine the third will do something for you, the first chapter also, as far as my research can tell, is the first instance of Soft Junkan.) First Chapter Second Chapter Third Chapter

Queen of the Convenience Store - Orphan_Account (The one where Junko and Mikan do weed. I actually quit weed and went cold turkey about a week or two ago, but I do still enjoy seeing girls kissing while being high. even if i can't remember if they kiss in this oops)

A DR Oneshot from an Orphan_Account (It features a Hot Topic, my inner 2000s kid has to recc it)

The Threshold - character_studious (A Bit Dark, but a pleasant read!)

The Whirlwind Fashionista - Kaz3313 (Cute lil Non-Despair AU fic featuring a very cool mall! The ending also gets a chuckle out of me)

No Regrets - wait i made that one (I wasn't going to put this here initially however as a small spoiler, Day 50 of this project is directly based on this fic. I'm super mixed on how it turned out but hey maybe someone'll like it)

And that's it for now! I may or may not be forgetting a decent amount of fics even among the ones I've read before. And there's plenty I haven't even seen yet, and plenty more to be made overtime I imagine.

Your mileage may vary with a lot of these fics, but hopefully you'll find one that itches your brain good like they itch mine. And if not then I recommend just hitting the Junkan Tag running and see what you can find! Take a few risks and maybe you'll find something surprising.

Have a wonderful day and remember to stay hydrated!~

[npookie0]

When blood stains your hands for the first time, just call for a Vigilante.

---------------------------------------------

Tw!!!

- murder

- blood

- mentions of abuse and infidelity

---------------------------------------------

You just killed a man.

You ran in the middle of the night through the busy streets and heavy rain. You clenched your coat around your blood stained hoodie and ran. Your feet were guiding you to the safest place you could think of.

V's house.

You saw the well known building right in front of you.

Your vision turned blurry and your whole body was shaking when you knocked on the door in panic. You were terrified of the blood that stained your hands and clothes, you felt like a monster. You just wanted to hide from the world and disappear.

V opened the door, he didn't expect to see you on the other side.

V: My love? What are you-

He couldn't finish his sentence. The sight of blood on your clothes caught him off guard. Did someone harm you? Why didn't you call him for help?

User: It's... It's not mine...

You said knowing that he thought that the blood was yours. You ran into him, clenching your hands on his sweater.

User: V... V I...

V: My love, please let us calm you down first. No need to tell me now when you're in no state to use your words.

He guided you into his living room and sat you down on the couch. V gave you one of his sweaters so you could wear something that wasn't stained with crimson. He used wet wipes to clean your hands. V just made sure to take extra special care of you during the time like this.

He gave you a cup of tea and sat beside you.

V: Are you ready to talk about this?

You looked up at him, his gaze full of love and concern. His gentle eyes made you even more disgusted by what you had done an hour ago. But you had to confess your sin, especially in front of V. He despises liars as much as he despises ruthless murderers who seek fun in what they're doing.

User: I... Do you remember when I told you about my ex Jake?

V's brows furrowed at the mention of that man.

V: What did he do?

He asked, his hands clenched into fists.

You couldn't blame him for reacting that way. Your ex boyfriend was the worst man you ever met. He used you as his wallet, cheated on you and even blamed you for everything. You were to blind to see how bad he was until you caught him in the middle of being intimate with another woman in your bed.

After that you kicked him out and blocked him everywhere.

User: He... Invited me to his house. He begged me to go there, he wanted to apologise, but...

You paused, voice shaky when you remembered what happened when you went there.

☘️

You entered his house. Jake was really desperate to get you to visit him. He stood in front of your house, your place of work, and even followed you just to speak with you.

You wanted him to stop doing that so you gave in and agreed to hear him out.

Jake was someone who took your heart and played with it only to toss it aside. You didn't trust him, but he promised an apology.

At first everything was going smoothly, he apologised and you ate the dinner he had prepared. But it all came to ruin when V tested you and you smiled at his little loving message.

Jake wasn't the jealous type from what you remembered, so it was shocking for you when he pushed the phone out of your hand.

Jake: What? Did you really think that you can just take another man?

User: Jake, what the fuck are you doing?!

He took a grab of your shoulder and pushed you onto the wall. He was being aggressive. Cursing you, saying some crazy shit about you being his.

Jake: I will find that new boyfriend of yours and show him that he's not good enough for you. You're mine User.

Something in you screamed that you should call for help. But you couldn't even text or call V. Why were you so stupid? Jake has always been a crazy bastard and he would never change.

You could only stand there and listen to his harsh words. Suddenly he pulled your head up with your hair. He wanted to kiss you.

And you were not going to let that happen.

Your brain didn't even register it before it happened. You had a dagger, that V gave to you, in your pocket. You took it out and in a swift motion you just attacked Jake. Blood was on your hands, your hoodie and the floor. The crimson liquid was slowly covering more and more of the floor.

☘️

And that was the exact same thing you just told V. You couldn't even look into his eyes, you felt like you were indifferent from the murders he just despises.

V's reassuring hand squeezed your shoulder gently.

V: My love. It wasn't your fault, he was the one who attacked you and made you feel the need to use the dagger as a last protection resort.

V knelt in front of you, he took your hands in his and kissed your knuckles.

User: But I just killed him... I'm not different than a ruthless serial killer.

You were so lost, you didn't just act in self pity. You truly felt like a monster, even when you absolutely hated yourself for killing such an asshole like Jake.

V: Sweetheart, I don't know of any murderer who would regret their murder. You wanted to protect yourself, and that's what matters. You're still as pure as you were before that.

The look in the man's eyes was so warm and gentle, full of love. You felt like you could cry at any given moment if you were to look into his eyes for a little longer.

V: You should sleep my love, and I will go clean that asshole's house so no one will ever try to catch you.

He kissed your knuckles once again but this time as a way to say goodbye. You didn't know who or what to thank for such an amazing boyfriend, but you will make sure to thank whatever being for sending V to you.

V returned a few hours later, you knew it because when you woke up the sun was already up and V was laying beside you in his bed.

User: He even made sure to carry me here...

You murmured as you played with V's hair. He was just so adorable when he was asleep. You could listen to his heartbeat all day long and you wouldn't get bored.

His romantic side was something amazing, he really taught that bird how to sing your favourite melody, he took you out on dates. Some of them were rather normal-ish, and others were more about serving justice but together (he did most of the killing, you just held his weapons).

You loved this man more everyday. And you hoped that you could be with him forever.

---------------------------------------------

V's fans here's your food. Hope it tasted good <3

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

A few random Avatar thoughts I’ve had recently

I’m been thinking about some things and I just want to put them out and see what everyone else thinks about them

First this is more of a headcanon but I was reading the Avatar cookbook and I kinda just laughed at the R.D.A section. I know the Avatar cookbook is full of the vegan recipes they had on set.I get that. But the R.D.A section reads : they serve up familiar foods with a vegan twist to respect the worlds limited resources. I just don’t buy that. The colonizers and planet destroyers are not respecting shit. So I had the idea that they clone meat. They already have cloning tech down, and cloning meat is something we already have today. It’s just not at a point where it could be mass produced. But by Avatar time? Absolutely. So that’s my headcanon. The R.D.A clones their meat. A really minor thing but I’m sure my fellow writers will agree minor details are just the things you get hung up on.

But now a bigger idea I’ve been thinking about. I’ve been fascinated recently by the physical state of the recoms when they woke up. By that I mean I’ve been thinking a lot about how exactly did they all wake up with their tattoos and hairstyles from their past lives? Because a clone wouldn’t just wake up like that. So my next thought was just oh it would have happened after they were decanted but before they woke up. Except:

You can clearly see they’re decanted like that. And that got me thinking about the state of Jake’s Avatar when it was decanted. I’m thinking that since the Avatar was organial made for Tommy there wasn’t a reason to put Jake’s tattoos on him. But at the bare minimum you’d need something to braid the hair around the neural whip because as we see on baby Neteyam and Kiri, Na’vi aren’t just born with a full braid. It has to be grown out. And yet Jake’s avatar had a perfect braid inside of the pod. So I’m thinking theirs some kind of little bot inside of the pod that’s used to care for the avatars. They’re a million dollars a pop so I’d think you’d want a bot that can do things like blood test or if a clone isn’t forming properly, do minor surgeries control by a doctor. But it can also be used for more aesthetic things as well like hair styling and tattooing so the Avatar driver can just wake up and go without having to mess with too much.

The recoms were obviously made to look as close to their past selves as possible so they wouldn’t “lose themselves” like Jake, Grace, Norm, and the other drivers all did. Z has full sleeves, Quaritch has his military tattoos. If you look closely Lyle’s recom has a faint shadow of hair on his head. So his new body doesn’t have male patterned baldness but his human body did so it was replicated on his clone. The R.D.A was so detailed with all these things - except Quaritch. Because his recom doesn’t have his most noticeable feature, the thing he shows off to Jake in the first movie- his scars. I don’t think it would have been hard to replicate them either. With my “little bot” theory as I’ll call it, you could simply use a laser scalpel to replicate the scars long before the clone is decanted so they have plenty of time to heal. But they didn’t. And I’m really scratching my head as to why?

Is it a visual cue to the audience that he is in fact not the same man as before? Or that this new version of him has the capacity to grow past the sins of his previous life. Did the R.D.A intentionally leave off the scars so he could be “pretty again” even though Quaritch himself said that he liked them? But why would they even care about something like that when the whole purpose of making them look like their human selves is to ground them in that life and make it harder from them to identify with the Na’vi despite looking exactly like them now. They omitted Quaritch’s most distinguished feature for what! 

These are just thoughts kicking around in my head. I really want to know what everyone else thinks so please share your ideas 💙

[dvchvnde]

excerpt. Father John Price x the hapless anti-Catholic he plans on wife-ing in the name of the lord.

bad touch with a rosary. distorting bible passages to snag himself a wife. blood of the sacrament. warrior of god John Price. Bastardized religious imagery. catholic corruption. catholic: guilt trauma horror despair

“You're wrong,” you're saying, but it's behind glass. Stuck inside of a snow globe. There's cotton in your ears. Your conviction is shaky. “You can't just do this—”

He seems to consider the weight of your words, pressing them flat between his teeth. Testing their hardiness. Their resilience. 

Then: Price bites down. They crack. Shatter. 

“I can,” is his decisive reply, entrenched so deeply in his own hubris it sounds like a full sermon in two syllables. “Because this is the will of God—”

He trails the beads of the rosary up your thigh. His knuckles are blanched white. Palm clenched so tightly around the metal cross that it digs into his skin, making him bleed. 

Something wet, molten, falls on your skin. You try not to shiver. The beads drag his blood along your flesh. A stain. A smear.

He sees it and hums. “the Spirit, the water, and the blood; and the three agree as one.”

You scoff to hide the tremor under your skin, and rake your nails across the thin membrane of your memories, your loose knowledge of the bible and its apocryphal stories until they are torn, shredded. It's there, in the harsh press of your desperation, the words he once rasped in the quiet of an endlessly black night, broken and shattered beyond repair, brim. 

Vindictively, you grab at them with broken fingers. 

“But God said to me, 'You shall not build a house for my name, because you are a man of war, and have shed blood.”

Price doesn't still in the way most might when having their own, broken vulnerability thrown into their face. Hot oil to fragile flesh. 

He has too much pyretic energy inside of him for that. 

But he does slow. 

The hand crawling up your thigh becomes rigid. Glacial. The same frigid bergschrund in his stormy eyes. For a moment, brief and fleeting but so terrifyingly tangible, you think he might just strangle you. His hands twitch. The Rosary beads clang together.

He doesn't. Price's eyes flutter shut. He takes a deep, shuddering breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. 

And then—

Peace. Calmness. Docile waters. 

When he opens them again, you see the eerie glow of a predator lurking below the surface. 

When he speaks, you know it's over. 

“Praise be to the lord, my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.” And if only for your benefit, he leans in close, lips brushing your cheek, and growls: “Blessed is your discretion, and blessed are you, that have kept me this day from bloodguiltiness, and from avenging myself with my own hand.”

It's a promise. A warning. A threat. 

The perfect panoply of this strange egotheism that gives him the right to shepherd you into a disciple. His saviour-god complex when he looks at you bleeds through. Unquenchable, and burning with the fever of obsession.

He will save you. This is absolute. 

But his version of salvation is having you beneath him, worshipping the human flesh he proffers like a gift for you to kiss. 

Consumption, you think, suddenly. Ravenous desire. He wants to feast on your sins until they fill his barren stomach, turning the weight of their perceived evil into permanent scripture, holy and good, on his flesh. Until you're devoured whole, and regurgitated into his most devoted idolater. 

You fight a shiver when the beads drop into the valley of your legs, squeezing them tight when they pool in the basin where your thigh meets cloth-covered mons. 

Above you, he rumbles. “There’s a simplicity to war. Attacking is the only secret. Dare—and the world yields. How quickly they forget that all it takes to change the course of history is the will of a single man. I fought hard to make a difference and realised one thing: the only truth I found is that the world we live in is a giant tinderbox. All it takes is someone to light the match.”

You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but considering the nature of his bastardised soliloquy, you can only guess. That night, when he revealed the nature of his sudden piousness following a life chasing wars in countries unknown to you. Places buried in smoke.

Found god in those trenches, he said. 

And you wondered what sort of god would set foot in a place like that. 

“Spent a long time in war. A lifetime.”

His hand drops, bloodied fingers pressing against the seam where his Rosary beads rest. 

When he looks at you, you find madness coloured blue. 

“But dove?” He rasps, swallows down a groan when your thighs tremble under his heavy hand. He looks at you with a renewed vigour. A purpose. “My war ends with you.” 

[tildeathiwillwrite]

WIP Wednesday 02/05/2025

This week has been crazy, not a ton of time to write, but write I did!

Dragonlance/Death Gate: 9 sentences requested by @somefishycat @auburnlaughter @eriquin

Tanis didn’t answer, and the knight grimaced. “First murderers, now thieves. Tanis, I don’t like this.” “You don’t have to call yourself a murderer,” Hugh commented idly, “I could take full credit for the goblins. What’s a few more deaths to an assassin? If that aligns with your morals, of course.” The knight glared, Hugh’s mocking tone not lost on him. He opened his mouth, but Tanis interrupted. “I agree, Sturm.

Trials of the Six: 12 sentences requested by @meggiejolly @wizisbored @violet-prism-creatively @asha10100101010

“That’s different,” she muttered, hooking her arms under his shoulders. The world tilted again as she began to drag him. “How… how are you warm?” “I don’t understand.” “D-d-dammit Hiel. Permafrost? You’re not cold?” He blinked up at her, struggling to find the right words. “I… uh….” Jarsali shook her head, muttering something in a language he couldn’t understand. “Damn Ice Mages,” she said aloud, “d-d-don’t even g-g-get c-c-cold.” “Your lips are purple,” he noted, though from the look on her face this was the wrong thing to say.

The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure: 12 sentences requested by @theembergazer @zyrafowe-sny @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @stonemaskedtaliesin

Sagon narrowed his eyes at the now-dried blood on the first, then the rapidly-drying blood on the second. “Doctor,” he said softly. “Yes, sir?” “These results are… fascinating. However, the samples are no longer fresh.” “...sir?” He gestured to one of the syringes used for blood drawing. “One should suffice for our purposes. Oxidation may play an important role in our research.” Mar stiffened and glanced across the room at the row of glass cells lining the opposing wall. Four total, but only one was occupied. The test subject was wrapped in a blanket, given to her by one of the guards, and seated with her head resting against the glass wall. Her blonde hair was tangled and matted, and her eyes, shadowed by dark circles, were fixed on Mar.

Supervillain x Civilian: 18 sentences requested by @tamsinswriting @rainy-weather-supremacy @hurricanebreeze @atomsforthewin @twyrewolf

@nonbinary-octopus

I stared at him. "That was weird, wasn't it?" "A little bit." He sighed, the disappointment from him washing over me like a tidal wave. "Ah, well. I should probably get back." Huh? "I've heard weirder, honestly," I said quickly as he turned to go. "I mean, come on, in this city? Weird shit happens all the time. Glad you're getting the proper amount of sleep now." Confusion, then… was that relief? It was tangled with another emotion I couldn't fully identify. "True enough," Dorian said, chuckling. "See you later?" "Yeah, see you later." He left, walking quickly, that same unidentifiable tangle of emotions running through him at top speeds. This time when I watched him go, my primary emotion was more of a satisfied confusion. I'd gotten what I wanted, he hadn't told anyone, and apparently chalked the whole incident up to hallucinations? But what was that last group of emotions? And why hadn't I found a shred of insincerity in the entire conversation?

[intosnarkness]

So my cat died today.

(tw:pet illness, death)

idk I might try and write the whole story later, but 15 years is a lot to try and boil down. (NB, I got him when he was 2, which you might have figured out because he was 17.)

But long story short, in February of 22 I was in Florida setting up an expo for work when the vet called me. Nat had taken the boys for a dental cleaning, and Peri lost like, a pound in a few weeks.

I was 900 miles away and could do nothing as they did scans and blood tests and I hid behind a shipping crate and cried.

They found a mass in his stomach and he's been on steroids since. We didn't know what it was, because I didn't want to do the exploratory on a cat his age. The vet agreed. I thought at the time that I had 3 months left. I got 18.

Recently Pman has had less appetite. This came to a head on Wednesday when I got home from work to feed the cats and he didn't come when I opened the can. He was also leaving more and more food uneaten.

I called the vet yesterday but it didn't feel emergent so when i got voicemail I gave up. Called again around 11 this morning and they asked me to bring him in ASAP. I had a Feeling then that today was going to end with a cremation.

Nat was headed home early from work because they're doing construction on his building and he was Done so I called and asked him to take Peri in. He agreed.

When he got to the house, Peri had found a bobbin for embroidery floss at some point between when I left at 7:45am and when he got home at 11:45am and eaten the thread off of it.

Nat called me and I just.. left. I just got up and left work and called the people I needed to call from the car to tell them I had a pet emergency and was leaving for the day. Nat and I met at the vet.

The issues came down to this:

When a cat eats string, your concern is it being in the intestine. If you pull on the string you can tear the intestine with the pressure. If you don't know how long it's been, you need to scope the cat or do exploratory surgery.

Our vet did not have anyone to scope the cat. They called every other vet in town, apparently. Time ticked by. They found one about 40 minutes away.

At this point it was close to 1:30. In the best scenario, it had been at least 2 hours since the thread entered his system. It would be another hour before we could get the scope in him. I kept saying to Nat, as we sat and waited, that there was no world where it wasn't in the intestine by the time we got him there. This is when I started to really fucking lose it.

If the string was in the intestine, they were going to have to do exploratory abdominal surgery on a 17-year-old cat to get it out. I remember what his recovery was like when he was 3 and did this. I was not sure it was fair to do that to a cat as old as him. I was pretty sure I had murdered my best friend with embroidery floss, which is going to be funny in retrospect but right now it isn't.

I know Peri has eaten string before. I remember the night he did it in the Laurel apartment like it was yesterday. I was usually vigilant about not leaving shit around for him to eat. The number of times I nagged Nat about spools of thread, or shoelaces, or twist ties. I looked at that bobbin yesterday and thought "I should put that away before Peri gets at it." I did not put it away. I was starting to convince myself that I killed my cat. That this whole thing was my fault. Poor Nat sitting next to me in this vet room. He is not an affectionate person. He does not touch. I doubt we have ever hugged. Here we are, and I'm holding my cat and crying. He mustered up all his courage and touched my shoulder. We stan one emotionally unavailable roommate.

As it turned out, it didn't matter. The x-ray revealed that the mass in his stomach had moved to his chest. His lungs were scalloped around the edges and there was fluid around his heart.

Nat and I both cried and killed an entire box of tissues. Peri let me hold him and he even gave us some moops. The vet told me to just keep talking. And the only thing I remember saying was that he had been such a good mommy to those ferals we fostered because he did such a good job of raising me, first.

So best boy, lover of Popsicle sticks, Wrong Tail haver, spottiest cat and cattiest spot, Peri Pants McGee, the Periman, Pman, Mr. Mooperman, and any other name I called him over the last 15 years was the best cat that most of you never got to meet.

His favorite thing in the world was when I put a blanket over my legs and then he laid on the blanket. He liked to lick my toes and ankles, which was the worst. He was a very good reason to stay alive on certain days when that didn't seem to be a priority. He was my best friend, and I love him.

[ashleyfanfic]

Thank you for the NSFW recs! When you have the time, I would love to hear your favourite Jonerys slowburn fics 🔥

Oh slow burn. Alright, so full confession, I usually don't have the time for slow burn. It's infuriating sometimes because I'm like FUCKING KISS EACH OTHER and then they don't and it makes my anxiety fucking sky rocket!

BUUUUUT that isn't to say that there aren't fics out there that nail it to me. This is a small list of fics off the top of my head. Granted, most of these are modern AU because I guess, as a whole, this fandom just decided we're just gonna make them fuck right off the bat cause they both deserve it. I mean, there are a few that canon divergent - but show/book Jon/Dany deserved to fuck each other until they collapse. So, with that in mind, here they are in no particular order: (M for modern AU - C for canon divergent) Westeros' Most Eligible Bachelor by @muttpeeta - M After one too many public scandals, Prince Jon Targaryen agrees to be the new star of "Westeros' Most Eligible Bachelor." He just wants to clean up his act and change the public's perception of him as the black sheep of the family, but he might just get more than he bargained for. Enter contestant: Daenerys Targaryen. His aunt.

You Can Never Be Mine by @muttpeeta - C Jon Snow knows it's wrong to covet what his brother has. He's never begrudged Robb Stark his title or his claim as the heir to Winterfell. But when Daenerys is taken in as Lord Stark's ward and betrothed to Robb, Jon's honor is tested in a way he never expected.

Desirable Business by @dracoignisworld and @dragonanddirewolf - M - In 1960's New York, creative director Jon Snow is faced with a challenge. His new secretary Daenerys is everything he is not; kind, friendly and innocent. With her around the office, he finds it hard to distinguish between reality and his fantasies. There can be consequences to desiring someone you should not have.

Written in the Scars on This Heart by @jalenmara and @notpmahlem - M - Daenerys Targaryen, supermodel and face of House Targaryen, a rising star in the world of Fashion, is commonly known as the most beautiful woman in the world. And someone wants her dead. Jon Snow, running from the ghosts of his own past, lands the job any man would kill for— protecting her. But can he protect his own heart from her?

Where the Wild Things Are by @stilesssolo - M - Daenerys Targaryen has fought tooth and nail to get to the high-ranking position she has at Tyrell Outdoor Recreational Equipment, Inc, doing everything within her power to help the planet along the way. Jon Snow has a dog with over two million instagram followers, despite the fact that he can't figure out how to work the app to save his life. When sales drop enough to threaten Tyrell's environment-saving programs, Daenerys is determined to find influencers that can turn the tides for her company. And she has her eye on Jon. Or, well— technically, Ghost.

Her Life, Her Death by magicmoon11 - C - Swayed by the powerful words of a dying queen, Stannis Baratheon takes in baby Daenerys Targaryen as his ward. In the North, Eddard Stark is ordered to raise Jon Snow to wed and dishonor the Targaryen princess, by bringing bastard blood into her line, and ending the Dragons forever. Across the continent, and across the Narrow Sea, the wheel continues to turn, and the Great Game commences. Thus begins a series of events that would change the fate of Westeros forever. Familial relationship between gruff Stannis and his ward. Eventual Jon x Dany.

The Oasis - @fierypen37 - M - With uptight and stressed CEO Daenerys Targaryen's regular masseur on leave, she has to make do with the replacement Jon Snow. Relaxation is not something she can find with his hands on her. Too bad he doesn't feel the same. Except unbeknownst to her, he definitely does. When a threat on her life pushes them together, they must both learn to deal with their growing feelings.