#unlike the prompt with was originally from

[pixelatedraindrops]

Ya know with the pneumonia post makes me wonder how sick Yuma would get if he had pneumonia. Especially since it would be a much different situation from him having the flu given the NDA can't go to the doctor and get medicine easily.

I admit I’m honestly not a huge expert with pneumonia, but I know he’d be UTTERLY MISERABLE. And I’d love to see it 👀

Maybe in this art I made, he has pneumonia… 🤔 (edited it a bit)

The NDA would surely panic over this.

Their poor little trainee being so sick and in so much pain...

and as the outsides of kanai ward...what could they possibly do?

[skzdarlings]

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Wicked Games

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: From the second Ryomen Sukuna appears on the surface on earth again, you are bound to each other. Until the Shibuya accident. Until Sukuna gets confronted with the fear of losing you first-hand.

Warnings: angst to fluff y'all, enemies to lovers in a kind of rushed way, this made me think about doing a series with like 5 chapters and a slow burn enemies to lovers with Sukuna x curse!reader - how do you feel about that? <3

Inspired by this prompt:

You remember it as if it was yesterday. The night was cold and eerily quiet when you sprinted through the dark streets, your body buzzing with the vibrations of cursed energy.

The reports had come in just an hour ago: a powerful curse had manifested, and it wasn’t just any ordinary curse. The whispers and especially Gojo spoke of something ancient, something nearly forgotten. Something that had slumbered within the shadows of legends until now.

“Guess what, (y/n)? Megumi found something that might interest you”, Gojo jeered at you through the phone when you already felt it.

Ryomen Sukuna.

You had heard his name your entire life - a dark deity, a figure so terrible that entire villages had been wiped out by his bare hands centuries ago.

Since you were a child, you've been obsessed with him, the so-called "King of Curses." Not because you were drawn to the death and chaos he brought, but because of the mystery he posed. The idea that something so cruel, so powerful, could exist outside the boundaries of human comprehension. As a sorcerer, you committed yourself to understanding curses, to studying their origins, motivations, powers. And there was no greater paradox than Sukuna himself.

But now, he wasn't only a paradox anymore. Now he had returned. They had found one of his fingers. Apparently, someone had consumed it.

“I’m in the middle of souvenir shopping and guessed you wouldn’t mind stepping in and helping little Megumi out.”

"Normally I'd scold you but today...thank you, idiot."

Yuji Itadori, the boy who had swallowed Sukuna’s cursed finger, who brought Sukuna back into the world after centuries of slumber, stood right in your sight along with Megumi Fushiguro. But you couldn’t let yourself worry about the boys; your focus was on the curse now staring straight back at you.

Your fingers tightened on the hilt of your sword, the cursed energy crackling around you like lightning in the dark night. You had prepared your entire life for this moment. The countless hours of sickening training, the sleepless nights spent poring over ancient texts and scrolls, and the battles fought against nameless curses. All of it had led you here, to your first confrontation with the King of Curses.

As you reached the completely destroyed school building where the cursed energy was originating from, you could already feel it. The overwhelming, tyrannical weight of Sukuna’s presence. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, so thick it felt as though it was suffocating you.

You pressed on, despite the nausea building in your chest. There was no time to second-guess yourself. You moved swiftly through the corridors of the building, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. The cursed energy grew heavier with every step, your breathing becoming uneven when the spiteful aura grew stronger. And then, at the far end of the hallway on top of a roof, you saw him.

At first glance, it was a boy, a teenager no older than Megumi. His body was rigid, standing in the middle of that roof, shoulders squared as though fighting an internal battle. But the look on his face, the wicked smile stretched across his lips, told you otherwise. The way his dark eyes gleamed with wicked amusement confirmed what you had feared.

This wasn’t Itadori anymore.

This was Sukuna.

“Interesting...” Sukuna’s voice rumbled from the boy’s throat as his gaze locked onto yours.

His smile widened, predatory and cruel.

“What do we have here? Another little sorcerer, so eager to die?”

You held your ground, your body tense but steady. This was no ordinary curse you were facing. Every instinct screamed at you to flee, but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t, allow fear to take control. Your entire life had been building up to this.

“You’re not getting out of here,” you said, your voice firm.

“Not while I’m here.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. His eyes narrowed, taking you in.

“Brave words, but foolish. Do you really think you can handle me, girl?”

You didn’t respond with words, Instead, you shoved Megumi behind you and let your cursed energy flare to life around you, the air crackling with power. You moved swiftly, launching yourself at him, your blade drawn and poised for the strike.

But Sukuna was fast — faster than you had anticipated. With barely a flicker of movement, he dodged your attack, his grin never faltering. He countered with a swift punch, sending you flying across the air and crashing into the opposite wall. Pain exploded in your chest, and you gasped for breath.

“Is that all?”, Sukuna taunted, his voice filled with mockery as he stalked toward you.

“I expected more from someone who’s been chasing me.”

You coughed, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth, but you forced yourself to your feet. Your body ached from the impact, but the adrenaline was stronger. You had trained for this. You wouldn’t go down so easily.

As Sukuna advanced, you focused your cursed energy into a powerful barrier, your eyes blazing with determination. You wouldn’t let him win. Not today.

“Let the boy go,” you demanded, your voice sharper now.

“I’m your opponent now.”

Sukuna’s eyes gleamed at the challenge.

“Bold. But you should know better than to give me orders.”

The battle was swift and brutal. Sukuna’s strikes were relentless, his movements impossibly fast and deadly. You could barely keep up, each of his blows a near-fatal attack. But through it all, you fought with everything you had, refusing to back down.

You’ve studied Sukuna your entire life. You knew his techniques, his fighting style, the cruel unpredictability of his power. But even with all that knowledge, facing him in person was something entirely different. His cursed energy was overwhelming, suffocating, a malevolent force that pressed against your very soul.

And yet, you stood your ground.

As the fight wore on, something shifted in the way Sukuna looked at you. What had started as amusement, as mockery, slowly turned into something else. Curiosity. Interest. Even a hint of admiration.

“You’re not like the others,” he jeered at one point, dodging one of your attacks effortlessly.

His eyes flickered with something dangerous, something… intrigued.

“You’re still standing. Most would have died by now.”

You spat blood onto the ground, your body screaming in agony but your will unbroken.

“I’m not most people.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound dark and throaty.

“No. You’re not.”

That was how it began. The first encounter — your first dance with death and the King of Curses. It didn’t end with your victory or his defeat. No, you knew better than to believe you could win against him in a single battle. But it wasn’t a defeat, either.

It was the beginning of something bigger.

After your first encounter with Sukuna, something within you shifted. Yuji Itadori regained control, but you knew it was only temporary. Sukuna wasn’t gone. He was still there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for his next opportunity to take control. And when he did, you were there.

Every. Single. Time.

Every time Sukuna resurfaced, you fought him. It became a twisted routine, an endless game of cat and mouse where neither of you could claim absolute victory. You learned his techniques, his fighting style, and the nuances of his cursed energy. You pushed yourself harder, training longer, grew stronger. And with every battle, Sukuna’s interest in you grew as well.

He began to speak to you during the fights, taunting you, teasing you, but always with that glimmer of intrigue in his eyes. He never seemed eager to kill you, not really. In fact, there were moments, brief, fleeting moments, where he seemed to hold back, almost as if he was enjoying the challenge you presented.

“Why do you keep coming back?” you asked him one day, your voice strained after yet another brutal fight.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

Sukuna’s grin was feral, his eyes glittering dangerously as he wiped the blood from his lips.

“Because you’re amusing,” he replied, his voice low and menacing.

“And because I’m not done with you yet.”

You hated the way his words sent a shiver down your spine, the way his gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. But more than anything, you hated how much you wanted to beat him, to prove yourself against the King of Curses.

As the months passed, you found yourself drawn deeper into Sukuna’s world. You fought him, studied him, and slowly but surely somehow began to understand him. He wasn’t just a mindless monster, not like the other curses you’ve faced. There was something more to Sukuna, something ancient and calculating, a mind sharper than any blade.

And Sukuna, in turn, began to learn more about you. He observed your fighting style, your strategies, your strengths and weaknesses. He pushed you, challenged you, forced you to grow stronger with every battle. There was a strange, unspoken connection between you: a mutual recognition of each other’s strength, a respect born from the countless times you’d clashed.

But there was something else, too. Something neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Something that simmered beneath the surface of every encounter.

You hated him. You despised everything he stood for, the chaos and destruction he brought into the world. But there was a part of you that couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him — the way his presence ignited something fierce and primal within you.

And Sukuna? Sukuna had grown attached to the thrill of facing you. You were unlike anyone he’d ever fought. Strong. Determined. Unyielding. It was no longer about crushing you under his heel. It was about keeping you close, about testing your limits and pushing you to your breaking point.

But neither of you were willing to admit what was truly happening between you.

You smile weakly to yourself, blood spilling from the corners of your mouth. Not even now.

The Shibuya Incident is chaos. The city is overrun with curses and the streets are filled with blood and screams. You dispatched alongside other sorcerers to contain the situation, but things quickly spiraled out of control. The curses were too many, too strong, and the collateral damage was catastrophic.

Your focus was on protecting your students, the young sorcerers under your care who had been thrust into this nightmare far too early in their training. You were always their protector, their guide, and you would do anything to keep them safe. But the battle was relentless, and the curses were closing in fast.

In the midst of the chaos, Sukuna reappeared, his presence like a dark shadow over the battlefield. He took control of Yuji once again, his cursed energy crackling through the air with terrifying force. You felt it the moment he arrived, your senses attuned to the overwhelming hatred that accompanied his presence.

You barely had time to react before you were caught in the crossfire. A powerful curse lashed out at you and you moved to shield your students from the blow. But the attack was too fast, too strong. It tore through your defenses, the cursed energy slicing through your body like a hot knife through butter.

Pain exploded in your chest when you collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath you. Your vision blurred, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You had suffered injuries before, but this… this was different.

This was fatal.

The world around you fades almost instantly, the edges of your vision go dark. You can feel your life slipping away, your body growing cold.

Out of all people, why does it have to be him you long for the most? Why do your eyes start watering by the thought that you'll might never see him again, that you were never able to feel his lips pressed against yours? Are you really so naive, so dumb? Fuck, you really fell for the King of Curses, the root of all evil.

But then… you hear his voice.

“Get. Up.”

Sukuna’s voice cuts through the haze of pain and exhaustion like a lightning strike. You blink, trying to focus, trying to understand what is happening. Is he really there? Are you hallucinating?

“Get up,” he repeats, his voice sharp and commanding.

But then you feel it. His hand pressed against the gaping wound in your abdomen. No, he's really there. It's really him.

“You’ve suffered bigger wounds. And if you don’t get up, I’ll destroy everything that’s left of this world.”

You force yourself to breathe, your chest burning with the effort. But your body isn’t responding anymore. The pain is too much. You simply can’t move. The only reaction you're able to build up is a weak smile.

Is this really how it ends? With another empy threat?

Sukuna growls, crouching down beside you. He can't let you die here. Not like this, not after this short time. There's still so much more he needs to show you, so much more he needs to say.

Before he realizes what he's even doing, his hands are on you, cursed energy flowing into your body, patching up the worst of the damage. It isn’t healing, not really - more like forcing your body to hold together for just a little longer. Just enough to keep you.

“Please…”

Sukuna’s voice is strained, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Please get up. Don’t die on me.”

You blink, your heart stuttering in your chest as his words sink in. He’s asking you. Pleading with you...Not to die?

“Please don’t die on me.”

With his cursed energy coursing through you, you really feel your strength returning, your wounds slowly mending under his influence. The pain fades away, replaced by a strange warmth that spreads through your body. You gasp for breath, your chest rising and falling as life surges back into you.

Did…Ryomen Sukuna save your ass? Your heart pounds so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting all over again. This can’t be possible, right? You have to be dreaming. After all, Ryomen Sukuna is your greatest enemy, responsible for at least half of the mess here.

“I’m not… done yet,” you rasp, your voice weak but steady.

Sukuna’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous paired with a hint of relief.

“That’s more like it.”

He helps you to your feet, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer than necessary. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken bond between you stronger than ever.

"What, were you worried about me, dumbass?"

Faster than you're able to react, he grabs your arm again and pulls you in. When his lips press themselves against yours, you forget how to exist for a second. Out of instinct, you open your mouth, allow him to enter, close your eyes when your whole body starts to burn up all over again.

Oh, you imagined this more than once. How do his firm arms feel against your touch? Are his lips softer than his cruel words? Is Sukuna a good kisser?

A desperate moan escapes your lips before you can stop yourself, your arms now roaming all over his muscular frame.

This...this is so wrong. You shouldn't do this, shouldn't even dream about something like this. But as sudden as he appeared, he's gone again, leaving you with nothing but your swollen lips as a proof for what just happened.

Are you actually going insane?

Bonus:

After Shibuya, things changed between you and Sukuna.

The battles continued, of course. The fights, the challenges, the taunts, the unnecessary deaths and killing  - none of that stopped and you still hate him with every fiber of your being for all those horrible things he did. But there is something else now, something that neither of you can ignore. The second Sukuna saw you lying there in a pool of your own blood on the edge of death, he started to realize it.

You aren’t a simple enemy for him anymore. You are his obsession.

Sukuna’s possessiveness over you grew, but so did the strange, unspoken understanding between you. You weren’t just another sorcerer to him anymore. You were his: his opponent, his challenge, his equal. And though neither of you would ever admit it out loud, there was a twisted sort of affection in that.

And you?

You’ve found something unexpected in the King of Curses. Not love, not really, but something close. Something raw and powerful, a connection without any logic and reason.

You didn’t know where it would lead. But you knew one thing for sure:

As long as Sukuna was in this world, you would be right there with him.

And that was enough.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr

[sttoru]

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

[easy-there-leftovers]

Magnum Opus (Ch. 1)

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding her potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how her paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes.

(Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 2k words

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

While Aaron Hotchner remained vigilant as he drove the black SUV, the constant flipping of Spencer’s case files seemed to be louder than the car’s air conditioning. 

He had directed Morgan and JJ to touch base at the MPDC, and had Rossi and Prentiss survey the crime scene of Jonathan Edwards; the identity of the previously unknown man in the vacant apartment.

This left him with Reid in the passenger seat to conduct an investigation on their only lead so far. 

From the update Garicia had given them, Y/n L/n was a prodigy a year younger than their very own. Having graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology a year ago, she moved to Capitol Park Plaza and Twins Apartments in Washington D.C., and is currently unemployed. Occasionally selling her paintings out of her unit under an anagram of her name.

 But something bothered him.

And it seems like Reid has picked up on it too.

“Do you think Dr. L/n is the unsub?” The unit chief asks.

Spencer hums before answering.

“While we can’t rule it out just yet, the possibility of her being the unsub is totally unlikely. The thing that’s throwing me off is that everything is too convenient. I mean, why would the unsub use something so publicly personal to them as part of their signature? It’s as if she’s overtly incriminating herself.”

Spencer checks back onto the pictures of the victims, then lifts his head up to look at Hotch to continue.

“Based on the way the victims are modeled, an immense amount of care was put into them. All for the purpose of making them look like the subjects in their paintings. Actually, the fixation on changing the bodies’ posture and keeping them clean is typically done out of remorse. But the added elements, like the placement of the paintings, creates an image of an unsub more on the narcissistic side. By creating two 'artworks,' they're prompting the viewer to decide which version of it they prefer. Mocking the original artist in the process.”

“So the paintings were done before the murder?”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

His unit chief sighs and pulls over to the curb. “Well, we’re about to test that belief.” Spencer hurries to take off his seatbelt as Hotch closes the car door with a thud. 

—------

Hotchner nods at Reid as they find themselves in front of the written address Garcia gave them. He lifts his hand to knock firmly on your door, and waits for a response.

A thud from the other side causes both of them to assess each other before Hotch tells Spencer to stay behind him. Gun in hand until something, or someone, comes running at them.

But instead a muffled, “sorry” is heard right after, which causes him to lower his gun.

The door finally opens a crack to reveal a very tired twenty-something woman, some dark pigment or makeup smudged on their lower eye lines as they rubbed at it. She immediately fixed her posture however at the sight of the unexpected visitors. Eyes wide with concern.

“Dr. L/n, I’m Aaron Hotchner with Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI.” He highlights his statement by showing his badge. “We’d like to ask you some questions.” 

“Oh, um,” The woman blinks rapidly and shakes their head before immediately saying, “Of course,” with a nod and opening the door wide to let them in.

A quirk that does not go unnoticed by Spencer, who observes how different she looks to her more formal ID photos.

—-----

You let the FBI agents into your apartment, but are now suddenly aware of the state of disarray you left it in last night. Not to mention the state you were in. 

You had just woken up and your brain wasn’t quite all there yet. If you had known you’d have guests over, you would have at least put some of your books and papers back onto their shelves rather than on your floor.

“My, uh—” You start, “Apologies! For the room and the um,”

You inhale deeply and gesture to yourself as you try to find the words before settling on an exasperated, “me.”

“No worries, miss. We don’t really call in advance.” You nod at the older man’s explanation vacantly before coming up with a response.

“Would you like anything to drink ?” You move to your fridge to get water to wake you up, and decide that it would be rude not to offer. The two decline, with the younger more busy observing your living room bookcase than the older one that sat on your couch. 

You notice that something must have interested him as he lingers on certain shelves. That section in particular had prints of dissertations you had been meaning to read, or have already read, in clear folders.

You wonder if he found his work there or something before returning with water for yourself. 

“So what can I help you with?”

“Dr. L/n, are you aware of the current string of murders that have been happening as of this year?” 

You blink rapidly again. The question catches you off guard, but you shake your head. 

“I know it’s a bad habit, and that I should, but I don’t really listen to the news.” Feeling your eyebrows quirk, you rub your hands together slowly. Making direct eye contact with Hotch, before looking at the younger man as he takes out a few papers from the folder he was holding.

“Are you familiar with these paintings then?”

 Now that piques your interest.

Dr. Spencer Reid, who sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes when it meets his own, presents various pictures of your artworks in what seems to be dimly lit areas. They’re a little dirty, but otherwise you would recognize them as your own.

 The thought instantly made something in your stomach turn.

“I–” You start, but shake your head subtly again. Unsure of what to say and how to say it next as you stare at the images. “am.” You turn your head to look back up at Spencer who nods thoughtfully.

“Recently, your paintings have been showing up at crime scenes in the D.C. area. Specifically, victims of an organized unsub that seems to be targeting people who accurately resemble the subjects in your work.” If your eyes weren’t wide enough, that bit of information had certainly opened them wider than ever before as you stared up at him.

“That, combined with the concentrated traces of 5-durastalene found in the pigments of the paint used, have led us to suspect your involvement in these murders, Dr. L/n.” You heavily feel the blink of your eyelids and rest your fingers on them to keep them closed before looking back at the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” you smile incredulously. “So you’re telling me that not only has Lunacite been identified on the paintings you’ve found, but that people who look like the personas in my private works actually exist and have since been–” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Murdered?”

“Well that shouldn’t come as a surprise, they were your muses, weren’t they? You were commissioned?” Hotch is the one who asks and you shake your head with wide eyes.

“I didn’t even know these people existed. They were just– faces I came up with mentally with the visual library I’ve amassed over the years. I don’t really make it a habit to paint from reference. Like I said, they were private.”

“And the chemical?” You thought for a moment before your lips thinned into a line.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Agent Hotchner, but I haven’t touched anything regarding that compound in over a year. I’ve only ever worked on it in my lab on university grounds, and I don’t make a habit of bringing work home.” You scratch the hairs near the base of your hairline.

“More importantly, hundreds of students and lecturers have access to my work, my research, and my lab space. Not to mention the people who might have heard my work through academic conferences.”

You move away from your position near the living room coffee table Spencer placed the pictures on, but picked up one before you did and shook your head.

“Besides, these paintings? No one should know about them, let alone have them. I didn't sell these.” That made Spencer’s brows furrow as he looked at the other photos still on the table.

“Do you have proof?” You stay silent, but then motion for them to follow you to the door of your room.

“Well, for one, I’m sure you’d understand that most people don’t make copies of their artwork traditionally, right? Expenditure of time, work materials, effort, human error, and many other variables. It just isn’t practical nor convenient.” You ramble and look back at them to continue.

“I also don’t make the majority of my art known online. Only a good 30% makes its way to my portfolio, and the others are never to be seen by anyone else.”

“They're studies. They’re made with cheap paints, they’re subjectively not appropriate for commercial use and-–I just wouldn’t be comfortable charging anyone for them.” 

They follow you across the room, and make themselves apparent behind you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“So if my ‘commissioned paintings’ are currently on D.C. crime scenes, and possibly in MPDC evidence,” You open the door to reveal your studio to the two agents. 

Various paint tubes, books, and brushes littered the floor, table, and boxes. A lone easel was situated near your apartment window, with an unfinished painting on it. And various canvasses, not displayed, but instead kept on tall shelves. Only the differently colored edges indicated that they were ever used.

What surprised them both however, were the same paintings in the pictures staring back at them.

 Some on the walls, some on the floor, but what was most important was that they were in this room, they were clean, and there were more of them.

You turn to look back at them with shaky eyes. “So why are they still here?”

—----

Hotch and Reid stood outside of your apartment door as you cleaned yourself up. Hotch made the call to bring you to the precinct for further investigation and for your own safety, but allowed you to freshen up before leaving with them. Not that he told you about the safety part.

You were hard to read, given your erratic reactions. It unnerved him, but he supposes it comes with the territory of being gifted. You also offered to bring in your paintings and a few other materials for forensics to test, to which while he was suspicious of, was not ungrateful for.

He made a quick call to Garcia to check attendants of any academic conferences you’ve spoken at and if anyone had been more interested than the others. When he was finished, he looked to Reid who was crossing his arms and staring at the carpeted hallway before looking back at him.

“She’s uncomfortable.” He stated plainly.

“Reid, most people would be if they just found out their hobby had been getting people killed.” Hotch said as he kept looking at his phone for anything new from the others.

“There’s certainly that, but I meant her title. ‘Doctor.’” He said in quotes, and Hotch raises his eyebrow at that but allows him to continue anyway with a curt nod.

“I mean, every time we’ve addressed her with her title, she blinks faster. Did you know it’s a common attribute that’s directly related to an increase in heart rate, which is why they’re usually correlated with lying? Initially, you would think that she faked her experience to get those credentials, but given her educational background, she must have not been given an opportunity to be referred to as such for a long time. Also, the gap year she took could’ve only exacerbated any insecurities she might have about her intellectual achievements. Plus, the lack of organization in her own home, while not wildly uncommon amongst people her age, could suggest the sincerity of her belief about compartmentalizing her work and her private life.”

“And what does that tell you?”

As Spencer was supposed to answer, a thud much like the one they heard before they entered earlier was heard again, followed by a similarly muffled, ‘sorry.’

He turns to look back at Hotch again with a small, victorious smile.

“That she doesn’t fit the profile.”

——-

taglist: @littlewolfieposts

[susanyung]

Sword of the Royal Heir - Swordtember 2023 Day 13 prompt

The Royal Heir , poised and noble as she looks, the heir is trained in her swordsmanship from birth. She is required to helm this remarkable weapon with strength. Unlike a regular sword, the blade's material was crafted with a supernatural material that is only possessed within the bloodline. It's never seen elsewhere and the origins are unknown.

[thatfrenchacademic]

"The biggest issue is students using it, me spotting it and having no recourse whatsoever to do anything about it." can you elaborate a bit further

Hello !

So to explain a bit more: we [aka your lecturers, teachers, teaching assistants, etc...] know that some students will use ChatGPT.

And there is a discussion to be had about how to work with this, how to design assessment which allow students to leverage something which may simply become a fixture of writing in a workplace environment, but that is not the discussion we are having here. Because that is not what we are worried about.

The defensible, problematic situation is: a student straight up entering the essay prompt on ChatGPT, and using the grand skills of Ctrl+C / Ctrl+V, submits it as their own paper.

And our main worry, I think, was for a long time that we would not be able to catch it. That students would, actually, be able to fool us and that we would actually think this was a student who understood the course, who put in the work, and who deserve to be rewarded for their grade. That was the main fear.

But here is the thing.

And listen up, students :

Essays written by ChatGPT :

Suck

Are spotted from a mile away from the person reading it

For real. They suck.

I cannot stress enough how easy they are to spot. You are NOT fooling anyone. I do not need the platform's AI-detecting tool to know when an essay was written by Chat GPT. It is so, very painfully obvious when that's the case.

But the problem then becomes : ok, I have spotted a student who cheated.

What am I even supposed to do with it.

It is one thing to KNOW that an essay was AI-generated, it is another to defend it to a plagiarism committee. First of all, does it actually count as plagiarism ? Second, how do prove, with certainty, that the student did not write it ? How to I convince the plagiarism committee that this is worth looking into ? I am in the role of a police officer, who needs to convince the DA that this is a winnable case, that prosecuting will not be a waste of their time. But I don't have a Similarity Percentage to rely on. I don't have an original source to say "look, this is the exact same wording!" like in a classic plagiarism case.

Best case scenario, I can make my case for thee student to actually be called to the plagiarism committee, where we probe into how, exactly, they wrote their essay, until they fold. Unlikely, morally questionable, and in all likelihood, ineffective on students already so confident in their bullshit that they have the audacity to submit a fully AI-generated work for their finals.

Now, students, gather up, especially if you have considered using Chat GPT this way. Because right now, you might think it means you can get away with it.

But let me tell you something. First, that essay is getting the shittiest grade we can give you. Because you know what is more difficult than a lecturer proving that a student used AI to generate their essay ? A student proving that they deserve a better grade. Once we give you a grade, burden of evidence is on you to prove that you have not been graded properly. And we can come up with 15 reasons why an essay is a shit essay. We put on kids' gloves, when we lecture and give feedback. We give the simplified version of most theories, we give the basics of how to structure an essay, the bar we set is spectacularly low, because students come in good faith, they are learning, they will not be held at the same standard as academics. But if you try to argue that you need a higher grade, when you had the audacity to not write a single word of your work, the kids gloves are going to come off real quick, and your lecturer will be able to very convincingly explain why, actually, giving you a passing grade was a mercy in the first place.

Second. Academics, especially angry academics, are a gossip machine.

You may get a passing grade, and there may be no official note of it in your file whatsoever. But I can guarantee you that your lecturer will chat with their colleagues. That every single one of your essay that year, and the years to come, will be looked at with so much scrutiny I hope your referencing for every single work reaches perfection. Every single paragraph will be looked at with the knowledge that you are likely to have had it AI-generated. Lecturers will tell their TA to look at for That One Student when they grade you .You will not be getting any flexibility from us, no extension without full documentation to support it, no letter of recommendation from any member of the faculty, no word in your favor if you are bordering a grade bracket. If we are feeling especially petty, we might even forget to answer your emails or answer any question you have with such warmth and kindness you really still never feel like asking a question again in our class. And I know that, because that's already happening. I have the name of three undergrads that we know, for a fact, did not write their own essay. Two are not even in my modules at all.

Now. That's pretty mean. But if you have the absolute audacity and lack of ethics required to submit an essay for which you have not written a single word, and thought it would actually work, when your lecturer spent probably more that 80 hours working in this module this term, gave you the opportunity to meet for office hours, to ask any question in person or in email, to have extensions, accommodations, additional time ? When you decided that putting exactly zero second of your time, considered that you were above that - and above other students- and yet we were not able to officially sanction you for it, we had to give you a passing grade, the same passing grade as students who actually made an effort?

Yeah, sorry, you are not getting any sympathy from your lecturers anymore.

[lnfours]

🍊prompt=  “you’ve been talking about this for months so i figured that maybe if i got it for you, you’d shut up.” “i love you.” 

love this idea 🥹 🫶🏼anon

Reader has been taking about a jelly cat she’s wanted for months & Lando gets her it :(

STOP BECAUSE HE SO WOULD TOO

also warning u nc i used the overused lando norrizz joke :.)

11.8k friends to lovers sleepover

you were sat on the couch when the front door closed, craning your neck as you smiled at the curly haired boy who had returned with an armful of bags.

"hey," you said, your attention shifting as you went back to your phone, "how was shopping with max?"

he wore a confident smile, making his way into the living room, "good. got you something,"

you raised your eyebrows as he took a seat on the other end of the couch, digging through his bags, "you did?"

"yeah, i think you'll like it."

you hummed as you tossed your phone down next to you, watching him fish something out from his bag before he spoke again, "close your eyes."

you sighed but did so anyway, feeling his hands grab yours to hold them out to him, his touch sending fire through your body before his skin was replaced with a soft, plush material. you furrowed your eyebrows, but didn't question it before he instructed you to open your eyes.

you did, a small little orange plush with a smiley face sitting in your hands. the one you had been looking for everywhere, the one you had shown him happily on your phone one day and said it 'reminded you of him'.

you smiled, squealing happily as you shot up from your spot and wrapped your arms around his neck, "where'd you find it? thank you, thank you, thank you!"

he laughed softly, "found it one of the book shops downtown. you've been talking about it for months now, so i figured that if i got it for you, you'd shut up."

you happily hugged it to your chest, "seriously, thank you. i love you!"

he smiled, the way those three words sounded coming from you, directed at him, going straight to his heart. the feeling unlike anything else that he'd felt before, and he made a silent vow to do whatever it took for you to say it again.

"what're you going to name it?" he asked, knowing you had picked out names for all your plushies. he had almost every single one memorized by now, swearing he'd have them all down one day.

you hummed, "dunno, what do you think?"

he hummed too before his face turned into a teasing smile, "you did say it reminded you of me."

you laughed, rolling your eyes playfully, "i associate anything to do with orange with you, don't get too ahead of yourself."

"you mean it's not because of it's adorable smile and tiny little dimple right here?" he joked and you laughed softly, face heating up as he was catching onto you.

"y'know what, fine," you said, "his name'll be lando norrizz,"

he put a hand up to his heart in fake hurt as he dramatically gasped, "so funny and totally original!"

his sarcasm made you smile, "it is kind of funny, though. and true."

"i have rizz!" he said, watching as you got up from your spot on the couch, making your way down the hall towards your bedroom.

"whatever helps you sleep at night!"

he shook his head, you were going to be the death of him.

[mickules]

I missed you too

The Parent Trap

---

I ended up watching the original 1961 Parent Trap and LORD but there's a lot going on in that film. But ignoring the more . . . distressingly unhealthy 60s attitude toward marriage dynamics. . . The actual twin swap is such a good angle (and the effects genuinely hold up really well) I just wanted to capture the stress of trying to assimilate into a life so unlike your own, and that gut punch moment when they get to meet their missing parent for the first time.

And from there I just couldn't help imagine a future parent reconciliation, with a couple of siblings added into the mix . . .

Unlike in the film where they were right to have gotten divorced (and shoulda stayed super divorced)- Takaaki and Kiyoko's seperation was very much a symptom of Toranosuke's scandal and demanded by Kiyoko's father. So when they meet once again as a result of the Twin's shenanigans, the two of them could easily develop a genuine connection, now they're older, more experienced, and freed from the pressure of expectation. And I'm not immune to making every red eyed Dangan character an Ishimaru sibling

(Truth be told, this has been on my mind ever since @puckishpal 's just marvellous fic Changed, and I really wanted to get this out in time for @mini-mecha-cowboy 's Kiyotaka week prompts AU and Lookalike, but uuuh- I managed to miss that by just a few ;; )

[impyssadobsessions]

DPXDC Prompt: Who is Danny Fenton?

Warning: This one will be dark as it contains character deaths and violence.

Danyal replaced Danny Fenton a long time ago. As in the original died and Danyal needed a place to hide.

He could have killed him or maybe there was an accident. But he's been masquerading as Danny Fenton for a long time.

But imagine Danyal Al Ghul did kill a kid to take his place. Or at least might have put him out of his misery of something tragic that happened.. as if he wasn't stalking homes to try and pretend to be someone's else's child after leaving the league.

Wasn't "his" fault the kid was stupid enough to cross paths and get hurt.

Though guilt does follow him as he pretends and easily slides into the kids life. Reason he "starts" to drift from Jazz, she's the only one that eyeing him too closely and he doesn't like it. Blame it on her being a nag.

Its why he survived the portal incident. He was already contaminated.

All this to avoid having to fight his brother and being kicked around by his grandfather.

Only to have karma bite him in the ass. Not only he failed to come back fully- unlike the pit rage that made you forget yourself- this form seems to make every regret and terrible action dig its claws deeper in every painful way.

Even worse if you play the whole phantom is a ghost combined with Danny.. so phantom is danny fenton.

Now he's lost anything he could have pride in. Thanks to his accident, he's had harder time controlling his body.. especially with his powers. Clumsy. Uneven. He knew he was out of sorts from not practicing but he doubt he be this bad.

His life forever now half of either existence. He couldn't pretend anymore. Once his new parents find out- they would try to kill him.

Back to square fucking one.

And this time. He doubt even his brother or mother would lend a pity hand. Not like he would want it.

AMG just now thought maybe he would go to Gotham after he killed Vlad and was caught by the Fentons.

He warned Vlad and told him he was getting onto his last nerve. Even told him that Jack wasn't his dad and Maddie wasn't his mom, hell he wasn't even Danny Fenton. But if he had to tell him who he was he was going to regret it.

Vlad went even harder losing interest in Danny- only for Danny to make a sword with his powers and show Vlad WHO he was.

He was trying to be like his father- batman. He is the grandson of the demon king- and former member of league of assassins.

Vlad begging when he realizes Danny been holding back and actual death is on the horizon. "I'm Danyal Al Ghul. And I'm tired of you."

Danny did do it to save everyone permanently but after brutally killing Vlad- is when first his friends show up to warn him about his parents just to see what he done.

Danny laughing awkwardly like.. you-you saw that.. didn't you? heh- Then Fentons barge in. Jack is emotional wreck.

Actually getting a few good hits in, before Danny decided to play dead again and let Jack think he destroyed him.

Flying back to gather his stuff to leave permanently. He couldn't take the guilt of looking at Jack's face. Danny Fenton is dead anyways.

Only to be confronted by Jazz later who shakily asks if Danny is her brother.

Danny being honest, "no."

"For how long?" Jazz saying she knows it had to be before the accident.

"…we we're 8."

Jazz asking trying not to sob did he kill him.

"Mercifully." Then explains he was going to die anyways-

"You don't know that-"

"Actually I DO. I know what it takes to KILL someone, what could allow someone to live. That's something I DO know. And if he had managed to live he would be a vegetable." Explaining how the injury to his spinal cord was not recoverable. just imagine its so bittersweet, because Jazz does love her brother still. But Danny has been a lie this whole time.. or at least being Fenton was. Most of the laughs have become real, jokes, the friendship.

But Danny knows he can't fix this.. so he leaves.

Jazz torn whether to beg him to stay or to go.. and just ends up choking up watching him leave.

thus Danny not sure where to go decides its bout time he at least sees his father.

whether he let him see him or not is undecided.

Jack will either be blame for the murder of Vlad, or Phantom will be exposed.

Either way. Danny knew he royally fucked up.. again.

Ooo what if Danny does join the bats but insist he just wants to be a normal teen. Has a fully researched and planned backstory… mostly leaving out things because its "hard" to talk about. How he lived from foster home to foster home pretending to be different children until he just escape.

Until Jazz , Sam , and Tuck come to find him. Having audio where Danny stated he was the son of batman. Danyal Al ghul. So they figured if they find batman. They might find Danny.

Sam and Tucker want answers.. also mixed about Danny.. but dammit they been through so much.. HOW COULD HE keep that from them? They're not going to let him runaway from this. Tucker also adds unless he threatens to kill us.

Jazz had resolved her feelings. Analyzing everything since Danny was 8. When the switch happened. What was him acting and when the real Danyal appeared.

And had decided she didn't care. Danny was her BROTHER. And honestly is the only thing she has left right now. And she wants him back. Wants to help him heal, wants to help him.

Sam and Tuck want their answers then decide what to do from there. They don't WANT everything they knew to be a lie.

And now Batman is aware of more of his son- Damian knowing more of what his twin been up too.

Its a race to get answers out of Danny before he figures it out and disappears for good.

Can see Damian being the best to help Danny through this. Especially since Jon and Dick helped him not feel so bad about the league.

Danny though pointing out- "Difference, the league didn't make me kill a kid, nor a pathetic billionaire."

"You're right. It would have made you kill me."

Danny just breaks.

Thus finally able to admit all his guilt and how terrible he feels about himself. How he TRIED to be like Father but.. he failed so hard. He failed. He failed EVERYTHING. Just a loser. A failure. A waste. Only to be reminded that if he was one- he wouldn't have so many people wanting to know him. He's scared to face his friends' and sister. He knows its gonna hurt. And it does. But even though he isn't forgiven there is hope things can move on from it. Sam and Tucker will have some serious trust issues and take a while to decipher what part is Danny and what isn't. Meanwhile, yes Jazz feels betrayed. She understands and mostly just want to get to know HER brother more.. Danny more. Hope this opens up the wall she wanted to break down this whole time. And as long as Danny shows her who he is, and tries to work on himself. She doesn't care who he was or how he got there. Also he has to show her what he done with her little brother's body and give it a proper burial. Which Danny happily will- giving it a proper burial.. not showing jazz. He's still afraid she'll immediately hate him once she does. Also can see Bruce being so conflicted but Damian, Dick, and Jason all standing up for Danny. Especially Jason once hearing why Danny killed Vlad was to PROTECT his family and town. He gave him fair warning.. So imagine Bruce and Danny having hard time getting along after everything is revealed. But more so just Bruce unable to comprehend the conflicted emotions. Danny tried to emulate him.. but failed. But he tried to do good.. yet he still killed. So its more so awkward than anything. Bruce still wants to give his son the best. Then I can see Danny helping out- though he keeps phantom a secret from the public. He's always invisible or barely seen.

[dreamwatch]

Ramblin' Gamblin' Man

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #20 - Prompt: Under The Covers | Word Count: 979 | Rating: M | CW: period typical homophobia (alluded to) | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: secret relationship, sharp suits, Steve Harrington is stupid for Eddie Munson, Fluff but make it lustful

Steve’s at the Grammys. Holy Shit.

It’s not the first time Eddie’s been here, but it’s the first time he’s brought Steve. He walked the red carpet alone last time, the rest of the band ahead of him with their wives and girlfriends, Eddie playing up the bachelor angle. Steve watched from their home. 

Tonight they’re ’best friends if anyone asks’, which Eddie thinks is unlikely because there are some big names here and like, who the fuck are they in the scheme of things?

They’re not nominated for anything; Eddie said they’d been asked to play a cover of Ramblin’ Gamblin Man and both Wayne and Steve’s dad are big Bob Seger fans so the band said yes. See, its little things like that that make him want to climb inside Eddie and never come out. Any other act is thinking about the prestige, Eddie’s thinking about whether his family would like it.

He loves this man so fucking much.

The band are sitting about ten rows back; he’s got a clear view of Sheryl Crow from his seat, and he’s pretty sure that’s the back of Whitney Houston’s head over to his left.

His new phone is buzzing in his pocket. Robin is obsessed with sending him messages. Tonight so far:

‘Is Stevie Nicks there?’

‘If she is please tell me she’s hot.’

‘Shit I think I just saw you!’

‘Is that Sheryl Crow in front of you?’

He deletes them to make space for new messages, hopefully something about how their friends are at the goddamn Grammys and not whether Shania Twain has a nice ass. (She does, he looked.)

Eddie taps his arm. “Okay, we have to go get changed.”

“Huh? Why?”

They’re wearing their ‘Corroded Coffin smart attire’, essentially their usual clothes minus the rips. They’re not exactly scruffy, per se, but… Steve’s in a suit here, you know? (The suit is borrowed, but it’s all about the effort.)

Eddie grins at him. “You didn’t think I was performing at the Grammys in this, did you?” He pulls at the long sleeve tee he’s wearing under his new leather jacket. 

“I mean, yeah, I kind of did.”

Eddie tsks. “For shame, Steve.” He leans in, achingly close, his breath tickling Steve’s neck. “Wish me luck.”

Just for a second Steve thinks about kissing him. Fuck everyone else, fuck the fans, the industry, he just wants to kiss his man publicly. But he doesn’t. Instead he shifts so his lips are practically touching the shell of Eddie’s ear.

“Good luck,” he whispers. 

Eddie shivers. Steve laughs.

The boys all leave, and now it’s Steve and The Wives.

Thirty minutes later the sound of a trashy high-hat fills the auditorium, lights flashing in time to the thu-thu thump bass drum pattern. Despite Jeff being their lead vocalist it’s Eddie, with his raspier, bluesier voice, that’s taking the lead tonight, and doesn’t that just make Steve’s heart fucking cry out with pride? And you know, Eddie, his Eddie, singing at a nationally televised event should be the thing he’s concentrating on, and it is! It is. But when the lights go up the first thing he actually notices is—

“Holy shit, they’re wearing suits!” 

Bonnie says it before anyone else gets a chance. He imagines the four of them are a picture right now, side by side, eyes on stalks because their men are all on stage at the Grammy’s wearing blacks suits, crisp white shirts and… fucking sunglasses. 

Look, he’s seen Eddie in a suit. It was a nice suit, but he looked about as comfortable as a priest in a lingerie store. This is not that.

These are sharp tailored suits, fitted to perfection. Eddie has too many buttons undone on the shirt, some of his chest exposed, that old Fender guitar pick necklace replaced with a solid silver copy (the original with Wayne). The stage lights hit his mirrored Ray Bans, the chain, the rings. But Steve can’t take his eyes off that fucking suit.

He’s going to devour him.

Eddie’s not a frontman, says he loves being able to just do his thing and let Jeff take care of the crowd. But he has a feeling things might change after tonight. 

The audience are on their feet, and Steve grabs the girls so they can head down to the backstage area. They have passes but even then he has to pull the ‘pregnant ladies coming through’ card to get them back to the green room. And when they get in there--

They’re still dressed in those fucking suits.

Eddie spins toward him. “Hey! What did you—“

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to finish the sentence, he has his hands on Eddie’s face and he’s dragging him in for a long, deep kiss, Eddie’s eyes wide and cross eyed.

When he finally comes up for air he realises Jeff, Gareth and Matt are all getting much the same treatment from their wives.

“You’re never taking this off, understand?” Steve says breathlessly. “Never.”

“What… the suit?”

“Duh, the suit, yes the suit. You’re never taking it off. I don’t care what you’re doing, mowing the lawn, taking the trash out, washing the car, don’t care. This,” he says gently pulling at a very expensive lapel, “is never leaving your body.” He goes in for another kiss. “God the things I’m going to do to you tonight.”

“In the suit?”

“Fuck yes, in the suit! Told you, you’re never taking this off.”

Eddie’s grin is slow and mischievous. “This is really doing it for you, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

It’s doing it for everyone. There are three respectable married ladies here, mothers no less, acting like groupies at an Aerosmith gig. 

Steve squeezes his hips. “Let’s go.”

“Sunglasses: on or off?”

Steve wants to sink his teeth into him right here.

“On. Definitely on.”

The song:

The inspiration:

[fanofthings20]

Rio Vidal x Reader Angst Request

This was requested by @miraslittlecrow. I hope this story is what you were hoping for! Thank you for the request and the fun challenge, I'm sorry it took me so long to finally posted it and I do apologize if this is a complete disaster!!

All the promtps are highlighted in bold and were created by the amazing and talented @me-writes-prompts

Without further ado, after 14-hour days for 7 straight, internet issues, about 16 rewrites, and changing the prompts about three times here is the story. Until next time farewell and happy Agatha All Along episode 7 night!!

___________________________________________________________

It was after midnight when a bloody, beaten, and worn-down soul returned home. Trying their hardest to stay silent to not alert their wife now that they were finally home after being delayed for an additional two days than the original eight days that was originally expected. You would have been back two hours ago but you were determined to patch yourself up the best you could so your wife who would no doubt already be worried about the delay, it would only stress her to see injuries and put the lives you just risked everything for in grave danger from her wrath. This is the downside to having the job of a life guardian with protection witch abilities while your wife is Lady Death who is protective and quick to anger.

Turning into the living room has you feeling lightheaded and your using the back of the couch as a crutch to keep yourself upright. You waited for a few minutes till the feeling passed thinking it was safe managing to round to the front of the couch before feeling a wet sensation against your left hand that was holding your right side. Pulling your hand off your side you see that the stitches for that large gash had ripped again and you'd already lost so much blood you barely made it onto the couch before the rest of your strength left you.

Meanwhile, Rio had been forced to collect more souls in the last four days than she would have liked. She would much rather wait at home for y/n to return, given that they were already two days behind their return date. Unfortunately, Death waits for no one, and Rio was super-speeding the process intending to get home faster. Finally, arriving at the house for the last two souls that needed to be collected tonight it happened to be an elderly couple. Rio always enjoyed collecting elderly couples who passed together because it was well deserved. Even though she was in a rush to get home she took her time with this couple getting to know them while providing a smooth transition.

When she returned to the living world she felt a searing pain in her chest at the same time it felt like a soul was close to collection. The searing pain was from the bond with her wife that alone was concerning enough but in occurrence as the death call skyrocketed Rio’s panic and in her rush to get home she teleported to the wrong location twice before finally making it home. Running up the path barreling through the door, and using magic to close the door the house was dark no lights had been turned on. Rio was using their bond to range how close she was to y/n and her ability to adjust to the darkness to rush up the stairs to their bedroom.

Upon crossing the bedroom’s threshold she noticed the room was untouched. Stopping long enough to check the bathroom before she rushed back downstairs, she was on the way to their back porch which was your favorite spot had it not been for the weak whimpering sound you made on the couch from jostling your injury. The sound had her turned around and on her knees at your side in a split second using her magic she turned on the living room lamps which illuminated your state to her. Normally nothing would phase her but your bruised state and the extent of your injuries were unlike any you had ever bared before. She knew the insane risks of your job as a life guardian but had been managing until now but she could no longer put off the conversations she had been withholding from you anymore.

Your voice was so weak when you tried putting on the brave act of “It’s fine, I’m okay-“ but she was quick to gently cut you off with “No you’re not, you’re injured and it’s all their fault!”. She was so sick of the fools who lived without abandon and required a life guardian to keep living. If she could she’d gladly take all their souls in an instant to keep you from harm but she couldn’t break the cycle of life rules without major consequences. If you didn’t require her immediate attention and care to keep you from being the next soul she was forced to collect she would be out that door in a second to give the person you risked everything such a life-altering scare to keep them from needing you ever again.

But you needed her now, especially with the large gash that was gushing blood out. She took out her favorite curved knife to cut your shirt off so she could have full access to your injuries to heal them. When your shirt had been removed and the true extent of your injuries was revealed to her, she was scared that she couldn’t heal it. The gash went from your right side across your abdomen it was deep with significant blood loss your other symptoms included breathing faster than normal, feeling confused and weak, sweating, low body temperature, fast pulse and slowly losing consciousness.

Rio tried to be gentle but she could only go so far when she had to put her hands directly on your wounds to heal it with her magic. Putting pressure on your wounds and the magic closing them again, causing you immense pain that had your already exhausted body past its limit to where your whimpering increased along with your feeble attempts to get away from Rio’s hands. Your rational side knew Rio was helping but you were so confused by the pain and blood loss that you weren’t capable of seeing it as helping. Rio couldn’t take her hands away from your wounds yet so all she could currently offer you were words of love to try and ease your confusion and discomfort.

“Cara Mia, I know it hurts”

“Your going to be okay”

“It’s almost over mi amor”

“We are going to have a long conversation when this is all over”

Rio had finally finished healing your wounds and could take her hands off your abdomen. You had passed out when the wound was halfway through mending. After she checked your heartbeat and breathing status, she walked to the kitchen where she collected a bowl of water and a hand towel to wash both her hands and clean you off the best she could. When you were cleaned off Rio took a few minutes to lay her head over your abdomen to feel you breathing and leave a trail of kisses along where your newest scar lies trying to calm her racing heart and remind herself you were still here with her. There wasn’t much she could offer for blood loss but two potions, food, hydration, and rest.

When she left you this time it was a return trip to the kitchen to clean the bloody bowl and prepare the potions and food. Who knows how long you’ll be passed out for so it was a waiting game for Rio which gave her time to think about one of your earlier interactions and what she wanted to say to you after all these years of holding back. One of her favorite interactions was when you had presumably saved her from a booby-trapped section of the woods. You did not know that she was Death at the time, there had been many interactions between you both throughout the years. You thought she was alluring, irresistible, and you knew this section of the wood was trapped. She had stepped on a hidden pressure plate for the arrow bolt's release, but before one could hit her, she instantly knew it was you. Hell, yall had fucked so many times at this point that you could recognize each other instantly just by your bodies. “You saved me back there…you didn’t have to. You could’ve gotten yourself kille-” (Rio) “I’d always choose you over myself. You should be well aware of that by now, my dear.” (You).

It had caught her off guard how willing you were to always put her first over yourself. Dare she say that made you even sexier in her eyes and so much harder to deny feelings for you anymore. She almost lost you tonight in more ways than one, physically and she would have been forced to take your soul from the living world to the soul realm a place she could never enter. She finished making everything and kept the food warm with her magic going back into the living room carefully lifting your head and sliding in under you. She ran a hand through your hair while the other was holding your wrist keeping track of your heartbeat.

She knew you probably wouldn’t hear or remember this conversation but she needed to say it to you “You know, you don’t have to do this. You don’t always have to stand up for people. I worry that no one will stand up for you in return when the time comes, because they take you for granted. And I hate that.” “Let me help you, please. I can’t stand on the side, quietly staring at all the scars you carry.” She couldn’t stand by anymore in the shadows and let you do this alone, there were only so many years where she’d let you go but now if you ever fully recovered from this she would be at your side from now on.

[reachartwork]

the process

a lot of people like to ask me about my process and how ai can be "creative" because they're under the impression that it's just kind of a big slot machine. you pull a lever and art uncontrollably comes out. well, let me show you my process

this is going to be a long thread tagged with #long post, blacklist that if you want to skip it.

so how it starts like most art is that i have an idea. in this case, earlier i made a post about witch-knights "surfing" on swords, so i'm going to try and make that - a witch-knight flying through the air atop one of her swords.

it starts with this picture.

i think this picture is dogshit so i discard basically all of it to try and find something closer to my original intent. there's a couple of uninteresting regenerations so it's clear i have to go back to the drawing board and teach the machine what it is i'm trying to do

let's start with a witch-knight on a broom. it's definitely not great but it gives us a better pose that i can work with.

i start by erasing the broom and replacing it with a skateboard - the machine understands skating better for what i need it to do.

there's a ton of small, subtle errors in this image and it overall looks like dogshit but the most important part right now is blocking and the overall pose structure - i need her "surfing" a large, lengthwise object, in the sky. i start by erasing pieces of the skateboard

now we have a sword, which is good. but the sword itself looks... bad. i'll spare you the abortive attempts at selective regeneration of the sword and just show you what happened when i rolled it back a couple of times from this pose and let it regen entirely.

again, tons of small little shitty errors, but this is something i can work with. i do another regen for a less shitty sword. her boob armor gets replaced with, like, generic scale mail.

this image has a great sword and decent pose but like... everything else is kind of futzy and i dont like it. instead of trying to pick and choose i just throw it back into the oven for a second. much better! but now she's going to cut herself on the sword, oh no!

again, i'll save you the agonizing thirty minutes of trying to get it to understand where the foot should go. unlike before i didn't really have a choice except to muscle through. there! now she's surfing safely :)

so it's done, right? well, i mean, i could post this. and it would probably do okay. but *i'm* not satisfied with it. there's stiffness. dozens of minor errors. the eyes look weird when you zoom in. let's start by fixing her hat, and then maybe her hands?

but she's missing fingers on her left hand so let's go ahead and fix that too. and i don't really like the tip of her sword and the ocean looks really flat and boring. so, VERY CAREFULLY, i have to etch out the parts of the sword and her body i have to keep, and also write an entirely new prompt to tell it "i want an ocean w/ rolling waves please :)"

this is better but not great. i try again - serendipitously, it makes this really cool variant with a shadow over the water, but i know working with that will take more wrangling so i'm considering it an evolutionary dead end and discarding it for now.

i proceed to spend 30 minutes trying to make the ocean look better but it's really not working imo. i'm gonna go back to the shadow version and see how that works

i'll spare you the other 8 minutes - i'm satisfied with the following picture. the sword isn't *perfectly* straight, her eyes aren't perfectly textured, the scale mail is... weird, in texture, but anything else would be greasing the wheel and i think beyond the machine's ability to do fine detail.

i've also attached the starting picture for comparison - it has better, "higher quality" clouds and ocean but i personally cared more about the pose and the sword surfing - the background is mostly tangential. could i get back ocean and clouds of that quality with another two hours of painstakingly cutting and re-generating bits of the background without destroying any of my existing work on the pose? probably. but i don't want to.

total time spent on this piece from start to finish was one hour and twenty one minutes. and now you know!

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.3 K Warnings: none Prompt: It's time to set up a trap with the boys! It has to be fun, right? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 60: Stone in Love

Wednesday 12th, 1977 - 12:34 AM

Lily didn’t take too long in the bathroom, and you went inside right after her. The girls had showered after arriving on the train, you, on the other hand, had only mildly gotten yourself looking decent before walking to Gringotts, and that was because you knew you had to look presentable. You suspected that after the entire mirror adventure, running around Hogsmeade like a crazy person, and making out with two boys at the same time, you urgently needed one yourself. 

You looked in the mirror, and thankfully, you didn’t look as bad as you assumed you would. You did have a parted lip that you hadn’t noticed before, and your wrist was still slightly sore, but you looked brighter than you had looked in the morning. The evident sadness from then was now coexisting with a newfound joy, the tinge of someone completely in love –and happy about it– evident in some of your features. The shine in your eyes, the curve of your lips, the dreaminess of your gaze. It was almost ridiculous how much a small talk had changed the way you felt, and looked. 

You took a deep breath and turned on the shower, basking in the way the warm water fell over your body, so soft and kind, so unlike the blazing fire, and the cold snow, that you almost wanted to fill the tub and stay there. You were still slightly sleepy, but the shower was enough to wake you up. 

By the time you stepped out of the shower, Mary had also fallen asleep, and Lily was sitting on her bed while reading a book. “You’re leaving now?” 

You nodded, and yawned, “Hopefully I’ll get some sleep after the preparations are ready.” 

“Good luck,” she said and yawned. 

“Sleep tight,” you replied with a smile, took James’ cloak and wrapped it around yourself, completely disappearing before her eyes. There was an air of child-like joy in Lily’s pupils as she saw you do it. She might have been immersed in the magical world for years, but every now and then, something caught her eye that reminded her of just how fascinating magic could be. People might have called the way she saw things a “muggle outlook” but Lily refused the idea of ever taking it all for granted. She loved being mesmerized by magic, and she never wanted to stop being fascinated by it. She smiled, looking at the door open and close by itself and then went back to her book. 

She was trying to find a toad-repelling charm. If there was anything completely unrefutable about Lily Evans, is just how much she wanted to be prepared for any situation that she might face. And with the little to no information you had given her, she wasn’t eager to find herself surrounded or –Godric forbid– vomiting toads without being able to stop it. She really hoped it wasn’t the latter, Barty had charmed Nox like that in first year after he said something about Evan. She had been in the infirmary checking on Remus and she had to leave the room before he woke up because she too, had gotten the urge to puke. What a terrible jinx that was.

Luckily for her, having the entire school puke toads, was not on your plans, you were only trying to infest it. You walked down the stairs making as little noise as possible. You thought of using a spell to silence your steps, but it was quite late –about 40 minutes later than your original meeting plan– and there seemed to be nobody around. You walked towards the boys’ dormitories and gently knocked on their door. 

“About fucking time,” Prongs whispered as he opened the door. Once it was closed, his voice went back to normal. “We were thinking you bailed on us!”

“He was, not me,” Remus said with a shrug. 

“Why did you take so long, anyway?” Peter asked.

“Oreos,” you retorted. “And girl talk.” 

“You talk about me with Lily?” Prongs said as he raised his eyebrow at you. 

“What? Do you think girl talk is always about boys?” 

“No?” He retorted, dragging that O a little too much. 

You scoffed, “We did not. I’m sorry to inform you, our agendas don’t always include complaining about our boyfriends.” 

“What are Oreos anyway?” Peter asked about at the same time that James murmured “Complaining about our boyfriends?” He had a frown on his face and looked terribly upset at the idea of Lily complaining about him. 

You didn’t even bother to hide the smirk that had appeared on your lips. “Oh, a very muggle thing,” you retorted. The boys didn’t need to know what an Oreo was, at least not until you bought them a pack, at which point they’d be too busy delighting in them to remember that you had been late for the prank because of some cookies. 

“A very muggle thing?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised, his tone clearly telling you he knew exactly what they were. Hope made an Oreo / triple chocolate cheesecake that was to diе for.

“Indeed, Moony,” you retorted as you shot him a look. “And talking about muggle things, I brought you something,” you said as you pulled out the Aero bar from your pocket. “Have you tried it?” 

“Don’t think I have,” he said as he looked at the chocolate. “Thanks, Luv.” 

“How come Moony always gets treats and I never do?” Sirius said with a small pout. 

“Somehow  I knew you would say that,” you said as you pulled out a tiny chocolate frog and placed it right in front of his mouth. “I got these at Muggle London, they don’t jump but they’re tasty. Open up.” 

“That’s what he said,” James said and got a short slap from Peter who looked mortified. Somehow he was the only one in the entire group who saw you more as a girl than as a Marauder. 

“Oi! What was that for?” James complained as he rubbed his arm. Meanwhile, Sirius had taken a bite out of his chocolate, you expected him to take it all in, but instead, he bit right in the middle, causing the filling to spill down his mouth and your hands. It was liquidy and it kind of looked like cough syrup. 

“Oh, I guess it was blueberry,” you said as you noted the purple colour drip from your hands. You took the other half of the frog and plopped it into your mouth, “It’s actually my favourite,” you added as you licked the back of your palm. They were small kitten lips, just trying to get the stickiness out of it so you could wipe them on your shirt but somehow that had caught the attention of the two boys. 

Perhaps they were too imaginative, or the kisses from a few hours ago had left them wanting more, but both boys had their mouths watering at the sight. James and Peter were still arguing in a hushed tone so neither of them noticed their gazes until you felt you were being stared at. “What?” you asked as you turned to Remus. “Got something on my face?” You eyed Sirius who was also starring. 

Perhaps if Peter and James weren’t there, Sirius would have retorted with “A kiss” and jumped on you, but instead, he cleared his throat. 

“Nothing. It looks like it was a good chocolate,” Remus said, somehow calmly.

“You think?” you asked as you pulled another one from your pocket and held it up to his mouth in the same way you had done with Sirius. He glanced over at Peter and James nervously, but their small discussion had turned into a relatively heated quarrel. He then eyed Sirius who nodded with a small shrug. 

Remus leaned towards your hand, taking the chocolate with his teeth without breaking it, his soft lips brushing against your fingers in some kind of way that made Sirius wish he could drag the two of you somewhere private and kiss your pretty lips until he ran out of breath.

“Good, yeah?” you asked as you saw him smile mischievously as he bit the chocolate. You didn’t understand the look he and Sirius had, but he did, and he did not miss the way Sirius was looking at the two of you. First your way and then his, he never thought he’d love being the centre of attention of Sirius’ piercing eyes as much as he did right then. 

“Delicious,” He replied with that same, devilish smirk. Sirius would have scoffed if he hadn’t been just as lured by him as if he had been with you. 

You smiled and turned to the two boys still deep in their discussion. “Okay, that’s enough, we’ve got a spell to teach you,” you said as you placed a thick book in the centre of the small circle you had ended up in. Quite similar to the one you’d been in back in your room with the girls. The book fell down on the wooden floor with a thud so loud it snapped Peter and James out of their quarrel. 

“What? I thought you were going to do it with Moony,” Peter said. 

“If the school didn’t have thousands of classrooms perhaps. We’re thinking we have to split into 2 teams. The team with three takes the bigger places, such as the great hall, the courtyard, the stairs, the astronomy tower,  and the longer halls, the team with two takes the other classrooms. Especially the ones with classes tomorrow, but also the empty ones in case the teachers think switching classrooms would be a solution.” 

“Classes will be cancelled, no matter what,” Sirius said with a smirk. 

“And is it complicated?” Peter asked with a frown. 

Remus tilted his head to the side, “Well…” 

“You’ll do great Wormy, I know!” You said with a thumbs up and opened the book. “What Remus and I designed was a variation on Arresto Momentum,” you explained. 

“The freezing time spell,” Remus continued. “More technical versions can freeze a person before they fall to their dеath, Quidditch coaches are all taught how to perform it–” 

“Simpler ones are used to freeze food in time so it does not go bad. Muggles need refrigerators and stuff for that,” you continued. “But the tricky thing with this one–” 

“Is that we needed to time set them, like a bоmb. And all of them at the same time.” 

Sirius was looking at the way the two of you quite literally finished each other's sentences completely in awe. While he had already been in love both with you and with Remus, the fact that he could kiss either of you mid-sentence was beyond thrilling. You were both insanely pretty, almost unfairly so. Sirius was sure you were saying something important by the way you both pointed at the book and flipped your wands in a very specific way, but he was so entranced by you that he hadn’t been listening at all.

“You got it?” You asked Peter, he was moving his wand up and down and then in a circle and saying a couple of spell words, albeit a little clumsy, he was saying the words right and making the correct movements. 

“Did I?” He asked as he loosened his grip on one of the decoy swamp-bombs (the ones that had no swamp but just a little water inside). The ball stayed in its place until James grabbed it and put it in his pocket. 

“James mate, that’s a–” Remus started, but you placed your hand on top of his and threw him a knowing look. A small eyebrow wiggle and a tiny little smirk. He shook his head in amusement but didn’t press further. 

“Yeah?” James asked. 

“A great swish and curl,” you said as you imitated the swish on his wand. “Also, I think Pete is ready too,” you smiled. “You just need to add a little more confidence with the wording,” you added as you turned to him. “It’s Arresto Momentum um debiat” you added. 

“Um debiat,” Peter repeated. 

“You got it, Puppy?” you asked, turning to Sirius, who only now seemed to be snapped out of his trance.  

“Uh, yeah…” he replied with a confident nod, only now turning to actually look at Peter and James moving their wands and practising the new spell. He leaned towards Prongs. “What were the words again?” he asked in a whisper.

“Oh, my Merlin!” James complained. “You’re keeping this twat with you,” he added as he turned to you. 

“Hm… I suppose I’ll have to take one for the team,” you said with a shrug and a smirk. 

“You love having me as your team, shut up,” Sirius retorted with a playful scoff. 

“Moony is going to be with us, yeah?” Peter asked. 

James threw a look at Remus and smirked himself, “Don’t think so, Worms. Vixen and Moony are taking the bigger places since they’re faster with the spell. We’ll take the classrooms.” 

“Oh well,” Wormy said with a sigh. “Should we hide the balls in the corners, in case someone notices them?” 

“We probably should, yeah,” Remus replied. “That way even if one of us fucks with the spell they’d have to find the rest of the swamp-bombs before they actually explode.” 

“Brilliant idea, Pete!” you said with a warm smile, Peter smiled confidently after that. He knew he wasn’t all that great with charms, but he got little pride from getting ideas that turned out for the best every now and then. Like the cuddles, he was still pretty shocked by how well it worked in the end.

Sirius threw you a look, not quite jealous but not quite happy about you praising Peter either. It’s not that he didn’t like Peter, but he was still kind of bothered about the PDA discussion they’d had earlier, even if he had been playing him just to get on his nerves, he wasn’t too happy about being told when he could and couldn’t kiss his girlfriend; unless it was you telling him, that is.

“Okay, then, we ready?” you asked. “Who's keeping the cloak?” 

“Well, if you disillusion me and Peter, you three should have it,” James said, thinking of how cosied up you’d get under the cloak. You had been there for him every time he tried to have Lily fall in love with him. He considered his duty as your best friend (since Remus was your boyfriend now) to ensure he provided you three with lots of quality time together. Besides he hadn’t seen Remus this happy in so long, he wanted that smile to grow bigger. He wanted all of your smiles to do so. “Besides, you'll be going to the red zones.” 

The red zones was a term employed by the boys to reference the areas with the most teachers and prefects around at night. Places like the library (which you would not touch because both you and Remus valued books too much to risk them being damaged by the toads), the great hall, and the grand staircase.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said with a smile and took out the wand, successfully making both boys almost completely invisible. “The swamp-bombs?” 

“Under the bed,” James said as Remus pulled a small bag that had been extension charmed, and then another one. “The blue bag has the most.”

Peter leaned over –at least you assumed it was Peter, if the faintest whisp of neatly tucked hair was anything to go by– and took the purple bag. The colour of the bag faded after his hand touched it, it was almost completely gone by the time he lifted it from the floor. 

James whispered something, and you didn’t even notice they were leaving until the door opened by itself and closed seconds later. “I really need to learn that silencing charm, James has truly mastered it.” 

“Bet it’d come in handy,” Sirius teased, and you reproachfully threw the cloak at him, understanding full well his implication. He took the cloak and the bag and stood from the floor. “All right, we don’t have all night, we better hurry this up,” he added as he extended his hand for you to take. You stood up and then did the same for Moony who, once he was up, took the cloak from Sirius. 

Remus extended it around himself and held it over his head, welcoming the two of you inside. You smiled and got in, Sirius followed with a smirk, standing almost unnecessarily close to the boy. Not that you were standing much farther. Both –per James’ prediction– had cosied up to the taller boy like you did when you were in your animagus form. 

Remus tensed at first, being brought back to before you were with him, to having to worry about being caught smelling Sirius’ hair or looking at the back of your neck. And then you pulled your hand behind your back and searched for his, taking it in yours and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He relaxed almost instantly, smiled and squeezed your hand softly in retort. Since you’d kept the cloak, Peter and Remus had gotten the map. That meant you’d have to be extra careful while walking around the school. 

If only we had two of those, you thought as you walked towards the door. Remus held his finger to his mouth, and for a few seconds, your breaths were the only thing either you or Remus could hear. “It’s empty, let’s go,” Remus said and Sirius opened the door. The three of you stepped out and in a matter of seconds were out of the door. 

The hall was empty, Remus was set to patrol that night, along with Frank Longbottom, the Gryffindor head boy whom you hadn’t met yet –at least officially, you’d seen him around– but was kind of close to the boys. And Remus had convinced him he’d take care of the prefect’s duties. According to Remus, Frank was trying to sway a girl named Alice (not the one you knew, a different one) and he was going to be working on writing her a letter all night.

“What do you even do when you patrol?” asked Sirius after he yawned, you instantly did the same. It was as if the sleep that you’d gotten after drinking the cookies was coming back to you, slightly stronger than before. 

“We literally just walk until the clock ticks midnight and then we come back to our rooms,” Remus said. “Frank talks a lot about spells, he’s a little clumsy like Peter, but he’s really clever regardless. When I’m with Lily we just discuss things like what we saw in class or the themes of our essays. Sometimes we just talk about muggle stuff,” he retorted. He was speaking low, not quite in a whisper, but enough for it to be muffled by the cloak. James had added a sound-blocking spell to it, it wasn’t strong, but it was enough to cover for words as soft as Remus’. 

“Where are we going first?” you asked, holding back another yawn. You knew Sirius would instantly tease you if he noticed you were sleepy, and while you didn’t hate his teasing, you didn’t want Remus to have the impression his new partners were childish. 

“Great Hall?” Sirius asked.

“We want them to go off in class, I was thinking we could have those set a little later, you know how Dumbledore loves taking the students to the Great Hall in a contingency.” 

“Imagine! They think it’s safe, and boom, toads!” Sirius added. 

“How do you even know about the contingency plans?” you asked with a frown. 

“We’ve caused a couple of them,” Sirius retorted with a smug smirk. “How does it feel to really be a troublemaker in the end?” 

“I sometimes feel it’s your madness rubbing off on me, you know?” You retorted and Sirius gasped. 

“Speak softer,” Remus chided when he heard a portrait yawn in the background. “I was thinking we could do the stairs first. Prefects are rarely there.”

“What about the portraits?” You asked, tilting your head. “They can be as bad as the Peeves when it comes to ratting someone out.”  

“Nah, they won’t bother you as long as you don’t wake them up, most of them just take the time to relax,” Remus responded with a shrug. “If anything happens I’ll just tell them I caught you sneaking and I’ll report you.” 

“Who would have thought it’d be so convenient to have the law in your pockets,” you said with a teasing smile and got a slight shove from Remus. “And we didn’t even have to bribe him!” 

“Oh, if I have to pull the Perfect card, you’re most definitely gonna have to make it up to me.”

You eyed Sirius, it was dark but the slight shine on his eyes was unmistakable, he was, like you, eager for something like that to happen. 

“Should we split to cover more ground?” you asked as you stared down at the massive staircase. 

“It would be the best…”  Remus said hesitantly. He clearly didn’t want you to pull away from him. 

“Promise I’ll be thinking of you,” you said, placing a short kiss on his cheek and disillusioning yourself. You exited the cloak with about 15 small balls hidden all over your pockets. You walked towards one end of the stairway and started to perform the spell over the small little balls. They looked almost kike gobstones, which was great since, even if they were visible, they wouldn’t be all that suspicious.

“Aren’t you going too?” Remus asked Sirius when the boy grabbed some of the balls from the bag and placed them in his pocket. 

“Thought I’d see you do it a couple of times to make sure I got the hang of it,” Sirius said as casually as he could. 

Remus groaned in return, “You so weren’t paying attention to either of us when we explained.” 

Sirius didn’t even try to deny it, “You both looked too pretty, I’m sorry.” He didn’t miss the blush that crept up on Remus’ neck when he said it. “So, pretty boy, care to teach me?” 

“Are you serious?” Remus dеadpanned. Regretting his words as they came out of his mouth. 

The other boy’s smile grew wider, “As a matter of fact, I–” 

“You have to flick your wand to the right, to the left, do a swish and then flick it again, towards 9 o’clock though. You got the words, yeah?” 

“Rude,” Sirius said with a small pout and followed Remus’ instructions seamlessly. Moony was almost jealous of how easy it was for Sirius to do it. You and he had taken so long to develop the spell for him to come and master it in seconds. 

“Like this?” 

“You’re just a show off,” Remus retorted as he pushed Sirius lightly, but the other boy just took the chance to hold on to Remus’ hand and pull him closer. Both still under the cloak. 

“Allow me to thank you, Professor Moony,” he said flirtatiously, planting a short kiss on the boy’s lips and slipping off the cloak with a disillusionment charm. 

Remus had to take some time to recover, blinking and staring at nowhere in particular, only being brought back by the moving of the stair underneath him. He was taken by surprise and lost his balance for a mere second before he remembered where he was and what he was meant to be doing. He tried not to think so much about the fact that he could literally walk up to you or Sirius and kiss you and how you would happily return the kiss, because if he did, then he might as well call the whole prank off and bring the two of you back to the room now that Peter and James weren’t around. 

By the time you were done with placing your swamp-bombs and turned to look for the boys, you realised just how hard it would be to find them now that everyone was using some kind of invisibility magic. You looked around for a while, trying to spot something that could reveal it, but it was almost useless, there was no way you’d spot either of them. You resorted to trying to use your other senses. 

You took in a deep breath, trying to channel Vixen’s sense of smell, but while you had gotten much better at transfigurations, and you had managed to do things like getting those fangs out and ripping your skin, you were not so good as to be able to just do that, not without turning into Vixen at least. You were just about to do that when you remembered that you didn’t have to solely rely on your senses, but that you could rely on theirs too.

“Remus,” you whispered. “Hey, Remus! Where are you? I’m done.” You blinked a few times, looking around to see if you spotted any sort of odd movement, and you thought you saw something move in the background when you felt a pair of hands grab you from behind and drag you inside the cloak.  You sucked in a breath, and his hand was over your mouth in a second. 

“Shhh,” he whispered to your ear soothingly. “It’s me, Little Witch.”

“Holy shit, Rem, why the hell from behind?” 

“I was there,” he replied with a shrug. “You seen Sirius?” 

“Thought I saw something move over there,” you said pointing at a stair that was moving on the other corner. Remus leaned closer to you, his head almost resting on your shoulder as he looked at the point you referred to. He was squinting his eyes in the direction of your finger, not realising how close he had gotten to you or perhaps he would have gotten as nervous as you were. 

But it was the good kind of nervous, the sort of heart-fluttering sensation that you got when you are close to the person that you like so much. While both Sirius and Remus had realised their feelings for each other and for you a while ago, you were just now noticing how much you liked Remus, and how many things about him you liked romantically. It was like being brought back to the Slug Party where you weren’t able to stop ogling him. 

He really was outstandingly pretty, so much that you wanted to kiss him. “You know Rem…” 

“Mhm?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as if trying to see better, while his eyes weren’t on you, he looked comfortable with the closeness. 

“Sirius and I have a bit of a tradition…” Now he turned to you, eyebrows knit. “It seems like whenever we’re on a stealth mission,” you added, turning your face to his as well, you were standing so close that your noses were pretty much brushing against each other. “Something comes over the two of us, and we end up doing the most outrageous thing.” 

“Like getting caught?” He teased. 

You scoffed, “Of course not! We’ve never gotten caught.” 

“What about that time at the Slytherin’s?” 

“He got caught, I didn’t!” You retorted, He raised an eyebrow as if to remind you that the only reason you hadn’t gotten caught was because he had been there to stop you. He had been tempted to kiss you then, perhaps as tempted as he was now. “But that’s not it.” 

“Then?” 

“Well when the tension rises,” you leaned a little closer to him, “and the adrenaline is in the air–” Your mouth was centimetres away from his, “we tended to–” 

You didn’t even finish, Remus got the idea and he was more than eager to join your little tradition. He was the one to close the gap, your lips crashing against his in a rather urgent manner. As if he was trying to kiss you for every time he had wished he could and had to restrain himself. He tasted like chocolate and cherry wine (probably because of the filling of the chocolate frog he got earlier). 

Despite his urgency, it was you the one who bit his lower lip and pressed your tongue against his mouth. He was quick to part them and chase your tongue with his, there was something about the way he kissed you that made your knees weak, in the same way that Sirius’ kisses did. Like you wanted to melt into him, allow him to mould you to his body instead of moulding him to yours. But then there was the other part of you, the one that didn’t like losing control and fought back for it, your hand rushing to the back of his neck and pulling him down to you while allowing your hands to play with his hair. It was much shorter than Sirius’ but that didn’t mean you couldn’t pull on it just slightly. 

He moaned into the kiss when you did and it was hard for you to hold back the smile as you separated for air. You were about to go back to kiss him when you heard a door shut from the side. You pulled apart from and looked towards it, biting your cheek to swallow the gasp you would have instinctively made. 

“It’s Severus,” you whispered as you stared at the greasy-haired boy. He was walking with his head held high, his Prefect badge, perfectly polished adorning his chest. You rolled your eyes and turned to Remus again, his lips were rosy and he was also panting a little, you never thought he could look prettier and here he was, all kissed out and looking like a prince. “You find Sirius?” 

Remus turned to you with eyebrows raised. He was too busy finding your lips to look for Sirius. “We have to distract him,” you mouthed, not daring to speak any louder, despite the charms the cloak had, you couldn’t risk it. You were not going to get caught by Severus Snape, of all people. 

“How?” He asked. 

You smiled mischievously at that. “Insecti,” you whispered, effectively conjuring about 4 thick flies, directing them straight towards his hair. Remus looked at you with interest, while the flies buzzed about all around Severus. 

“Go away!” the Slytherin said as he frantically waved his hands over his head. Hitting one of them with the back of his hand but still being followed by the rest. “I said go away!” He said again, much more irritated. He was going up a flight of stairs, and you knew he wasn’t distracted enough to fall, regardless you were keeping a very close eye on him. Finally, he took out his wand, and the moment he did you pulled just the tip of yours from the cloak. 

You smiled, “Mucus ad nauseam,” you whispered this time. He sneezed. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said as he took out a handkerchief to stop his runny nose. It was a simple spell that you found in one of those trick books the boys had to sneak out of the restricted section. “It must be the fucking flies,” he complained again.

Remus threw you a diverted look and you winked his way. Severus sneezed again, waking one of the portraits. “Shhhh,” the man said by placing his hand over his mouth. “Some of us are trying to sleep.” 

“It’s not like I can control them,” Severus muttered under his breath, and then sneezed again, this time a little louder. Just to piss him off. But he inadvertently woke up a couple more of the portraits.

They had already started whispering about, a lady in a horse shushing him while on another one, two men that had been playing chess started discussing his outrageous behaviour. “Who’s responsible for this squawking?” a man with an Auror uniform asked. Severus sneezed again. “Ah, it’s the Slytherin kid, of course, it’s the Slytherin kid,” Said Lady McDougal as she pointed at him.

Severus rolled his eyes, trying to hold his next sneeze while also hitting one of the flies with his hand. Remus turned to you, pulling out his own wand and pointing it towards him. “Sonorus,” he whispered.

“Stupid ancient portraits, they should start minding their own fucking business,” he muttered again. Except this time, Remus’s charm had made his voice a lot louder. So loud that instead of a whisper to himself, as he intended, his voice resonated all over the Grand Staircase. He froze, looking around the portraits as he gulped. 

“Who are you calling ancient?” A very old man asked from the right wall. “I thought you’d be wiser since you’re a member of my house.” 

Severus was about to apologise, but he sneezed instead. “And he won’t stop making noise even after we asked him!” the portrait that had shushed him first added. 

Some portraits were looking at him with disapproving glances, others were muttering among themselves while, the most outspoken ones, were straight up telling him off. 

“Cannot believe the prerequisites for becoming a Perfect have stump so low that someone like you has gotten the honour,” a man with curly black hair added. “When I was the Headmaster of this fine institution you could only achieve such a position by being at the epitome of the student body. Only truly exemplary students…”

“Shut up Nigellus,” another portrait said. “Nobody liked you when you were Headmaster!” 

“He kind of reminds me of…” you muttered as you looked at the portrait of Nigellus, who had now engaged in a heated discussion with the portrait of a Quidditch player.

“Nigellus Black,” Remus said with a smile. “He’s nothing like our Sirius but he’s got those pretty eyes of his.” 

“Should have known…” you smiled as you turned to him. 

Severus sneezed again, successfully driving the attention –and anger– of the quarrelling portraits towards himself. 

“Well boy, what are you still doing here? Go lock yourself in your common room or something!” Nigellus said, you snickered, covering your mouth with your hands to avoid making a sound. 

Severus wiped his runny nose with his sleeve. “BIoody portraits!” He said as he rushed towards one of the halls, and away from the stairs. 

“BIoody portraits,” one of them mocked in a high-pitched tone as he passed by. It was the portrait of a younger boy, and he didn’t think twice before flicking his index and middle finger at him. 

“Let us sleep!” an old lady with a flower dress shouted from the very top. 

Severus cursed under his breath as he shut the door, loud enough to get cursed again by the rest of the portraits. “Slytherins,” Lady McDougal said with a sigh, “It had to be one of them.” 

Another lady agreed with her while some Slytherin wizards shook their heads in disapproval. Meanwhile, you and Remus couldn’t stop eyeing each other with a satisfied and diverted look. That’s when you saw green sparks coming from one of the doors. 

“Is that the Slytherin boy again?” One of the portraits asked. 

“Let’s go,” you said, knowing full well it had been Sirius and not a Slytherin. By the time you and Remus got close enough, you could distinguish his beautiful black curls through his disillusionment charm. Remus extended the cloak around him and suddenly the three of you were back in the little safe heaven James’ invisibility cloak provided. 

“That little act of yours was brilliant,” Sirius said with a smirk in a low tone. “Where next?” 

“The Great Hall,” Remus said. The three of you made your way towards it, stopping by the library before you got there. “We should probably lock it…” 

“Or they’ll try to give classes inside,” Sirius added. 

“A simple locking spell won’t be enough,” You said and took a deep breath. “What if we disappear it?” 

“What?” Remus asked with a frown. “How?” 

“We could hide it,” Sirius said with a nod. “Make it seem like it has disappeared even if it’s still there.” 

“Exactly, something close to a disillusionment charm, but for things.” 

“And then we could fill it up with something like escargot slime, nobody would want to get close to it.” 

“Snail,” you said before Remus even threw you a confused look. You had no idea why Sirius would remember the French word (which was far more complicated) than the English one but one time you had forgotten how to say spoon and went for cuchara instead.  You turned to Sirius, “Where would we even get snail slime, though?” 

“Don’t worry about that,” he said with a smile and turned to the massive library doors. He took in a deep breath and cast a disillusionment charm, followed by you and then Remus. The door had completely disappeared after the third spell. Sirius smiled and turned to the door. “Cochlea bitumine,” he said, suddenly there was a green, snot-like slime all over the floor and wall. You sighed, it didn’t stink, but the smell was rather potent. 

You took a swamp-bomb from Remus’ pockets and stared at it for a second, “I think they’ll rather enjoy this ambience,” you smiled and hid it inside the smile, while you avoided touching the viciousness of it altogether. Then you whispered the words of the spell. Sirius imitated you, and you ended up hiding about 6 of them just in the area. 

The great hall remained pretty empty at night, you had never been there, but the boys were familiar enough, apparently, the ghost didn’t really like being there when there wasn’t people, there were no portraits, and while the charms in the sky became a little fickle when there were people there after hours, it much easier, once you were inside.

The complicated part was getting in. Since that’s where the Prefects gathered before and after their patrol, it was much harder to get through the open halls that took you inside. Lucky for you, you had taken the cloak, which meant your life would be made easier. 

“Ready?” Sirius asked with a smile. You were standing just below the stairs, and peering up at the hall. There were three Hufflepuff prefects there. You recognized one of them as Alex Wood’s classmate, but you weren’t familiar with the rest. 

“We could try to distract them first?“ you said. 

“But then they would know someone’s out and about, and James and Peter would have people looking for them, they have no cloak.” 

“Then we become as stealthy as ninjas,” Sirius said with a confident nod. He’d been reading some Daredevil comics Andromeda had sent him and he had been fascinated by the idea of them. 

“I could turn into Vixen.” You shrugged, “they would never figure out I’m a student and not just a rogue fox.” 

“It’s not as believable as if Wormtail did it…” Remus replied as he shook his head. 

You were still discussing strategies when a ghost mounting a horse came in screaming through the side. “Someone has been in the classrooms,” he roared. You grabbed both boys’ hands and dragged them towards the great hall as the Hufflepuff scattered from the door and tried to talk to the very altered ghosts. 

“I guess they’ve been discovered,” Sirius whispered as you all arrived at the Great Hall. 

“Mhm,” you agreed. “We need to be more careful now.” 

“Perhaps not quite,” Remus said thoughtfully. “They’ll probably go talk to the portraits, and Severus was the one causing a mess, so they might pin the classroom incident on him too.” 

“Sir Pendragon would have said Potter and Pettigrew were there if he had spotted them. He’d take any chance to drag either of us down.” 

“Huh? Why?” you asked curiously. 

“Peter thought it would be funny to share a rumour about him in second year. He told everyone he didn’t lose his head on a joust, but that it had been eaten by a Wilddeoren,” Remus explained.

“They were a lot more common back in the day,” Sirius added. “Anyway, I think Sr. Nicholas found out it had been Peter and told Sir. Pendragon since he wanted to join the headless hunt. The man has hated all of us since then.” 

You laughed and shook your head. “You should make friends with the ghosts, not make them your enemies.” Sirius just shrugged, smiling and sending you one of those winks of his. He then pulled some orbs from his pocket and placed them on your hand. “Ready to cause mischief?” 

“Definitely,” you retorted with a smile, placing them in your pockets and then grabbing another handful. You disillusioned yourself before stepping out of the comfortable warmth of the cloak and walked to the back of the hall. You did hear the uneasy rumbling of the ceiling, as if it knew someone was around when they shouldn’t be, but you ignored it until you got all the way to the teacher’s table. You placed swamp-bombs underneath it, three by the windows and some on the closer gargoyles. Meanwhile, Sirius and Remus were making sure all the tables had swamp-bombs underneath them. And for good measure, they also hid a couple next to the floating candles.

Once you were done, you all reunited back in the same spot near the door, it was Remus –who still had the cloak– the one that dragged you inside as soon as he spotted you, or rather, smelled you, since he’d managed to do that way before the saw through your disillusionment charm. 

“Hey,” you said with a smile once he pulled you to him. 

“Hey,” he responded, like the idiot in love he was. You smiled, as you looked up at him, and he leaned in to press a short, quick kiss on your lips. “Sirius is on his last bomb.” 

“How do you know?” you whispered.

“I counted them,” he told you with a shrug. 

“No wonder he calls us nerds,” you said with an amused scoff. You were both pulling Sirius into the cloak mere minutes later. 

“Where to now?” He asked with a smile, Remus was tempted to press a kiss onto his lips as well but decided perhaps right at that instant it wouldn’t be proper. Not that either of the three cared too much about proper, but Remus still had more common sense than the two of you. 

“The tower,” you said as you yawned. 

“You tired?” Sirius teased. You blinked and shook your head in response. Not that you didn’t have perfect reasons to be tired, but the idea of falling asleep in the middle of a prank was so absurd to you, that being tired –no matter how sleepy you actually were– seemed preposterous. 

Sirius tightened his lips as he tried to hold back a smile, he had known this for a while, but when you were sleepy, you got into a cuddly mood, and when you were in a cuddly mood, he got to be as clingy as he wanted to be. He wondered if he’d be able to hug you and Remus at the same time later that night, without having to turn into Padfoot, and picture how amazing that might be. 

“You think they’re outside still?” You asked as you leaned your ear on the door. 

“They’re not,” Remus said confidently. “Even the portraits are asleep now.” 

“Good,” you said as you cast a silencing spell on the door and pushed it open. “Let’s go!”

The portraits at the Great Hall were also much calmer now, which is why you tried to be as quiet as possible as you climbed up the stairs that would lead you to the Astronomy Tower. “Looks like they’re already falling asleep,” Sirius said. “You think they’re still mad at Snape?” 

“They won’t get over being called ancient anytime soon,” Remus said with a smile. “And with how much they gossip, they might turn the rest of the portraits in the castle against him as well.” You let out a low giggle after that and covered your mouth almost in an instant. When you heard one of the portraits wake up the three of you threw a look at each other and rushed towards the tower as fast and stealthily as you could. 

Once you got to the stairs you looked up, it was a rather long stairwell, leading all the way to Professor Spellman’s territory. The divination classroom was dark and gloomy at night. There was a rather faint light coming from the window, but the classroom was only lit by a single black flamed candle. Spellman had talked about that in a previous class.

According to him, black flame candles were better than normal candles in divination spaces because they didn’t disturb the light from stars as much. 

“Lumos,” Sirius said and pulled out the tip of his wand from the cloak. “I don’t think there’s any ghost here now,” he whispered as he turned to you. 

“Prefects don’t come here often either. They do check the top of the observatory, but that’s just because some people use it to make out.” 

“Oh, really?” You said with a smirk, managing to shake off the sleepiness a bit more. 

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” Sirius told you and you pouted as you looked at him. 

“You’re the one with the funny ideas most of the time,” you retorted. Remus shook his head in amusement, took some of the swamp-bombs and handed them over to the two of you. 

“Focus, we can discuss those funny ideas once we’re done.” 

Sirius turned to you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk that you retorted with a raise of an eyebrow and a similarly satisfied smile. After the small exchange, the two of you went on your way to set up the classroom.  Once you were done, the three of you stepped out and went straight to the observatory. You split up again, this time not bothering to disillusion yourselves, and started placing some swamp-bombs all over the place. 

When you were done, you walked over to one of the small lookout spaces and leaned both of your arms on the railing, looking out towards the Black Lake. It was the same railing in which Evan had threatened you not so long ago. If someone had told you then that he would save your life months later you would have called them crazy. And here you were, in that same railing, thinking of how sudden the change had been. 

You took a deep breath, trying not to let thoughts of that night cloud over your happy ones, “What is it?” Remus asked as he approached you, leaning close enough that your shoulders bumped into each other. 

“Nothing,” you said almost in a whisper. He raised one of his eyebrows. “Everything,” you sighed and then yawned. “Godric! Why am I so damn sleepy,” you asked as you rested your head on his shoulder. “It isn’t even that late...” 

Remus turned to his watch, “It’s almost 2,” he said. 

You yawned again. “I didn’t even wake up that early,” you complained. Your eyes were closing on themselves, and Remus was tall, warm and so reassuring that your eyes almost refused to stay open. 

“But you had one hell of a day,” he retorted softly. 

You hummed in response. “That indeed,” you yawned. “But still, there’s something weird about it…” you said with a long sigh. Remus was thinking of an answer when he felt a little bit more of your weight reclining against him. He turned towards you only to notice your evened-out breath and completely relaxed expression.

“Little Witch?” he whispered, the lack of response confirmed his hypothesis, you had fallen asleep as you reclined into him. Remus smiled, looking at your slightly parted lips as you breathed in and out the chilly winter air. He wasn’t sure he had ever had the time to look at it from such an angle. 

Not that you hadn’t already used his shoulder as a headrest, but he had never felt comfortable just blatantly staring, in case someone else was watching, in case somebody noticed how irrevocably in love he was with you. But you knew it now, and Sirius knew it too, and you were both okay with it. So he stared, at your lashes, and your nose, and the curve of your lips, like he was seeing you for the first time, even if he had been dreaming with them for months now. 

The snow was gently falling outside, the lake shimmered with the reflection of the stars and the forest was as dark and alluring as ever. But not even the beautiful, shimmering stars in the sky were lovely enough to divert his attention from you. He was in a trance so deep that he didn’t even hear the steps from behind.

“Hey Moony did you–” 

“Shhhh,” Remus said softly, turning to Sirius as he rushed a finger over his mouth. “She’s fallen asleep.” 

Sirius frowned and tilted his head, you had never fallen asleep in the middle of a prank. “Don’t you think that’s weird?” Sirius whispered. 

“With the day she had?” Remus retorted. “It might just be the only thing she’s done that makes any sense.” 

Sirius shook his head with a smile, “It’s not the only thing,” he retorted, leaning in closer to Remus, and laying his head on the boy’s free shoulder. “She got us together, and we make sense together.” 

It was almost ironic, that when Remus finally managed to rip his gaze away from you, it was only to look at Sirius. Sirius with his confident smile and sparkling eyes, he would have sworn they were shinier than the stars and the shimmering reflection of the crescent moon in the black lake. The snow might have been falling like glitter in the water and dissolving into sparkly droplets of dew, but his eyes were lost on the endless grey of his best friend, his boyfriend. Remus smiled, “Yeah, we make sense together.”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei i @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @mothraantics @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld @pastelorangeskies @barking4you @profoundpidgeon @nagareboshi-chiyo @x4ramyluv @bookishbabyyyy @panhoeofmanyfandoms

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

Read more Marauders Fiction

[bones4thecats]

Being Married and Your Lives Together

Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Fellow Honest, Baul Zigvolt, and Kifaji Name: Being Married and Your Lives Together Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: This is my first times writing for all of these characters, so they may end up being a bit out of character, just warning y'all! Anyways, I do hope you guys enjoy this. I'm just gonna write each part of the poll as it goes, since it's pointless waiting daily on the next part. Now, enjoy my bubbles🫧

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🦊 Fellow Honest and you grew up together with Gidel by your side, working together to provide a decent life for the younger beastman, despite the hardships

🦊 Gidel adores you to the point where you were basically another sibling to him, which led to Fellow beginning to see you as a co-raiser of the cat-man

🦊 You and Fellow eventually began to work at Playful Land together, with the assistance of your younger brother

🦊 When your relationship started, you guys just began working at the theme park with one another, only using the relationship as something to put the walls of the visitors down to nothing

🦊 But, Fellow began to notice how when the visitors walked away with you guiding them around to show them the place so they were more at ease, he would glare at one of them if they tried something inappropriate

🦊 While you guys to eventually marry, not making it into any paperwork, obviously, you cannot allow your occupations to be let out, he still is protective over you, since fox-beastman have one partner for their lives

🦊 Your occupation working at Playful Land is very shady and if caught, can put you all in serious danger, which prompts Fellow to guard you and Gidel with his life, no matter the cost

🦊 Despite popular beliefs, Fellow does not want children unless he had a stable life with you and Gidel, he doesn't want his offspring to go through the same amount of pain he, Gidel, and you went through

🦊 If you and him had one unexpectedly, he would put everything into you, his brother, and his children, since you all were the most important things in his life, he could wait, you could not

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐊 Baul never saw any point for a relationship, but, when he met you at a young age, he saw more potential with you than he did anyone else

🐊 He has a fiery personality, but, unlike many, you adored that part of him. And, due to his more aggressive tendencies, he is a very protective and possessive husband, pushing you behind him during any threat

🐊 During the war, he kept you away from it all, and sending you as many letters as he could in between battles

🐊 Once the war calmed down, he found out you were pregnant and was having a daughter, the only child you would ever have during your long lives together

🐊 He raised your daughter with such high-honors that it was a hint overwhelming for the young fae, but, what did you expect from an ex-military member?

🐊 You are by far the more approachable grandparent of the Zigvolt family, you were the one that Sebek would come for to get advice, and you would always tell him to embrace what his father gave him, his humanity

🐊 While Baul and you have some rough-patches that you cannot seem to fully sand down, he always tried his best to keep his composure, and he had tried his most when your daughter brought her future husband and father to her children home to meet you both

🐊 He was horrified of Baul Zigvolt, who told him to only call him Mr. Zigvolt, while he was far more at ease with you, as you just said he could call you 'Mom'

🐊 It's basically the 'Cool and Intimidating x An Absolute Sweetheart' dynamic, and it's hilarious for your family and friends to watch

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🕊️ You worked with Kifaji as a chamberlain for the Kingscholar family growing up, and he would just watch as you would help Farena take a small break from his homework to mess around

🕊️ Kifaji also would love watching you just try getting Leona to do something other than nap around growing up, it was quite amusing

🕊️ He and you were childhood friends, and eventual lovers who married and began to work alongside one another. Your husband then began to work for the Kingscholar family, with you joining him later on

🕊️ This guy gives me the vibe of a good father for some reason

🕊️ Due to this, he and you had two children, two boys to be specific, and oh boy does he adore his dearest boys to the end of the world

🕊️ He taught them everything they needed to know, and because of your ages, you had the first son around a year or so before Farena was born and then your second son when the oldest Kingscholar was a couple years old

🕊️ Kifaji tries to take some days off of work to be with you and his sons as they grew up, but as they aged and began their own lives, he tried spending as much time as he could with his grandchildren

🕊️ Leona loves to taunt you by being asleep in the most random places, prompting your husband to show, allowing the lion-beastman to get you flustered more

🕊️ Age comes with wisdom? Then he must have been 70 when he was really 28, and you would vouch for that, like I mentioned, this guy taught his children and the Kingscholar's children, what do you expect?

[pen-and-umbra]

FFVII Rebirth introduces something never extensively explored in the original game or in the compilation of Final Fantasy VII: Sephiroth's anger towards Professor Gast’s experiment and the contempt he came to harbor towards ShinRA as an organization.

(Herein lurk spoilers.)

While the latter is something the fans have glimpsed on and off throughout previous installments, the second part of the Remake amplifies it ever so more. What began as admitting that the company had fabricated his legend and expressing a desire to live a normal life in Ever Crisis gradually transforms into a lack of clarity regarding his reasons for fighting in Before Crisis (as prompted by Elfe), followed by an open disgust towards Hojo's and Hollander's experiments when confronted with Mako pod entities during the hunt for Genesis. Sephiroth and Zack's ordeal during Crisis Core events appears to undercut his willingness to stay, as he famously considers leaving the corporation right before embarking on the ill-fated Nibelheim expedition.

FFVIIRb picks off where we left off, painting a more complete picture of Sephiroth's dissatisfaction with ShinRA overall. Interestingly, one of the discarded sequences from the original game featured Sephiroth hinting at his lack of affection for his employer as early as the truck ride.

Narratively, the sequence spans the gap between OG and Crisis Core's departure cutscene, implying that Sephiroth used the time on the road to reflect on his current and future connection with ShinRA. His companion, however, does not appear to understand why he is bringing the topic up. What distinguishes Rebirth is the suggestion that Sephiroth came to view the entire ShinRA system as a problem, rather than just a few rotten apples. He no longer singles out Hojo, but rather the entire ShinRA branch, indicating that something's wrong with the system. When "Cloud" casually inquires about the problem with the Nibelheim reactor, Sephiroth responds that it is "people who run it," adding that this particular site is controlled by the Research and Development department. In addition, in response to "Cloud's" fair comment regrading the lack of transparency in company's operation, he rather sarcastically suggests to bring the issue with the President, thus implicitly conveying the futility of the endeavor.

When the party encounters Mako pod residents, one can detect genuine rage in his voice. While Sephiroth had previously shown bitterness for the test subjects during CC, it was tinged with disgust/pity rather than wrath. And once again, I’m grateful to Tyler Hoechlin for broadening his range in this particular segment.

"Cloud's" reaction to the contents of the pods, however, came off a little weird. The confusion appears out of place, because Zack had seen it all before — he had been there to watch the aftermath of Hollander's work; is it really odd that ShinRA's chief R&D scientist spearheaded the entire thing? Perhaps, unlike Sephiroth, Zack treated it as a rotten-apple issue, rather than a systemic issue. Or maybe this is an example of Cloud being an unreliable narrator, having conflated his own experience with that of Zack, which also explains Zack being sort of too green for the First Class throughout the Nibelheim portion of the game.

The shift in Sephiroth's perspective, from singling out Hojo's misdeeds to viewing ShinRA's itself as a systemic problem, is further highlighted during the mansion segment. This is no longer a strictly Hollander or Hojo issue. Human experimentation formed the fundamental core of what ShinRA is now, and those were approved from the very top. As Sephiroth puts it with barely concealed disgust, as soon as the company realized what had fallen into their hands, they became ambitious.

The wording also strikes a contrast to how he used to refer to the company in the past; as such, when Angeal deserts, Sephiroth states that Angeal has betrayed “US”, which points at both his personal connection to the person and the fact that Sephiroth likely saw himself as part of ShinRA circle. In the library, however, he distances himself by referring to the company as THEM, thus no longer perceiving himself as a part of it.

More important still is the rage he expresses when quoting excerpts from Gast's notes. The anger is new, never before seen touch. Sephiroth has been portrayed in the moment differently throughout earlier installments — dejected, perhaps overwhelmed, but never angry enough to snarl and nearly flip the table.

And it's wonderful. It's authentic, and it makes sense. It makes you question how much of that rage has been bottled up, compartmentalized, and never fully processed throughout the years. That rage should have existed, but was suppressed by ShinRA, before becoming internalized and sealed.

The scene is extremely on point on another level as well. As the flash of rage passes, and Sephiroth looks away, hiding eyes behind bangs — a gesture previously briefly appearing in Crisis Core.

One could interpret the body language as being ashamed and unwilling to show his composure cracking. Even in this state he KNOWS he wasn't supposed to let anyone see hurt or anger, wasn't supposed to lose cool. The "wonder child" and the "poster boy" is not to be seen as something other than “efficacious” and “collected”. The habit of suppressing displays of emotion or physical/psychological ailment had apparently become a part of himself. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to deduce why the habit persists. The internalized compulsion to live up to the expectations placed on him by ShinRA and the myth it imposed on his character, as well as the internalized imperative not to reveal to someone like Hojo — anyone— the extent to which their acts or words affect him. There's also another layer to this shame — one of being an artificial creation, but that's for another write up.

The anger towards Gast differs greatly from the way Sephiroth went “Why didn't you tell me?” in previous iterations of the Nibelheim incident. In retrospect, Gast's supervision of the project, involvement in Sephiroth's life, and unexpected departure seem like a betrayal. Gast had not only abandoned Sephiroth, who had likely come to see him as a salient figure in his youth, but had also been lying to him all along, until finally discarding him, as Sephiroth might believe. Gast therefore falls from grace, becoming yet another person who misled, attempted to exploit, and eventually abandoned him to deal with the consequences on his own.