#working on getting caught up but in the meanwhile

[creamflix]

cw: mentions of sex & reader menstruating, nothing detailed or explicit [for nsfw].

read part one here

three years.

three whole years of loving each other in your own chaotic way.

but when the anniversary actually rolled around, you felt like someone had hit the reset button on your social skills. standing in the kitchen that morning, you blurted out, “it’s our anniversary. we’ve been together for a long time,” as if that wasn’t blatantly obvious.

sukuna blinked at you from where he was tying his tie, raising an eyebrow like he couldn’t believe what just came out of your mouth.

“no shit,” he deadpanned, though his lips twitched like he was holding back a smirk.

you huffed, crossing your arms. “i’m just saying. it’s... a big deal, y’know?”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, brushing past you to grab his keys, but you caught the way his gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual.

truthfully, neither of you were handling it well. anniversaries weren’t exactly your forte. it wasn’t like you didn’t say “i love you” to each other, but those words carried weight between the two of you — too much to just toss around casually.

and now, faced with the unspoken expectation to do something, both of you were stumbling like teenagers on a first date.

sukuna spent the entire morning at work distracted, fidgeting with his pen and snapping at his coworkers more than usual.

am i supposed to plan something? he thought. i was the one who proposed, does that mean it’s my job? the pressure was getting to him.

finally, he decided to keep it simple: your favorite takeout from university, a nostalgic callback to the start of everything.

meanwhile, you spent your day spiraling in a completely different direction. romantic gestures weren’t exactly your specialty, but the thought of doing nothing felt worse.

so, you left work early and dove into something utterly out of character — a full-on romantic dinner, complete with candles, music, and a dish you’d only ever made once before.

by the time the evening rolled around, both of you were a mess. sukuna trudged through the door first, looking disheveled in his wrinkled work clothes, seven plastic bags in hand, each one stuffed with takeout containers. he didn’t even bother taking off his shoes before stepping into the living room.

“yo, i got —” he started, but froze mid-sentence when he saw you.

you were standing by the dining table, decked out in an outfit that screamed special occasion, with your hair done and everything. the table was set like something out of a movie: a full spread of homemade dishes, soft lighting from the candles, and an awkward tension hanging in the air because, honestly, what the hell were the two of you doing?

“...what the fuck,” sukuna finally said, his voice soft with something you couldn’t quite place.

you shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “i figured... i’d try something different.”

he stared at you for a beat, then down at the bags in his hands, then back at you. “you made all this?”

“yeah.” you shifted on your feet. “thought it’d be nice. but uh, if you don’t wanna eat it, we can always —”

“shut up,” he cut you off, a grin breaking across his face. “you’re insane, you know that?”

“takes one to know one,” you shot back, but your cheeks were burning.

he dropped the bags unceremoniously on the counter and crossed the room in a few quick strides. before you could say anything else, his arms were around you, pulling you into a hug that was somehow both firm and gentle.

“you’re ridiculous,” he mumbled against your hair. “but you’re my ridiculous.”

you rolled your eyes but melted into his embrace. “yeah, yeah. happy anniversary, jerk.”

he laughed, low and genuine, and for a moment, the awkwardness faded. the food didn’t matter. the plans didn’t matter. just being here, in this little apartment you called home, with him holding you like the world didn’t exist outside these walls — that was enough.

even after three years together, the idea of using the typical, sugary nicknames made you both cringe harder than nails on a chalkboard. no “babe,” no “sweetheart,” no “love.” for some reason, it just didn’t fit.

instead, you’d toss out things like “dude,” “bro,” or, on particularly annoying days, “boy,” just to get under his skin. the way sukuna’s eye would twitch every time you called him that? priceless.

but sukuna wasn’t innocent, either. his repertoire of names for you was a mix of creative insults and borderline threats, delivered with just enough affection to remind you that he didn’t actually mean them.

“woman,” “brat,” “shit for brains” — those were the classics. and when he was in an especially foul mood? let’s just say the creativity really started flowing.

the funniest part? even in public, neither of you switched it up. at restaurants, when a waiter would ask for your order, you’d say, “he’ll have the steak,” and sukuna would fire back with, “she’ll take the fish,” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

no “my love” or “my darling.” just “he” and “she,” like a couple of reluctant coworkers at a team lunch.

the one time you tried something different, it didn’t end well.

“what’ll it be, babe?” you’d asked one night, trying to suppress a grin as you glanced at him over the menu.

sukuna lowered his menu just enough to shoot you a look so disgusted you swore you could taste lemons in the air. “what the hell did you just call me?”

“babe,” you repeated, forcing the word out like it physically pained you.

he grimaced, his nose wrinkling. “don’t ever do that again.”

you’d burst out laughing, and from that moment on, the unwritten rule was solidified: no “cute” nicknames. not unless you wanted to ruin the meal for both of you.

and yet, despite all of that, there were moments when the truth slipped through. when you were out with friends, you’d proudly call him “my man,” as if daring anyone to challenge the claim.

and sukuna wasn’t any better — he’d talk about you to his buddies like you were the most important person in the world, casually dropping “my lady” into conversations like it was nothing.

but back home? it was business as usual. “yo, dude,” you’d yell from the kitchen. “did you put the laundry in the dryer?”

“hell nah, woman,” he’d yell back. “do it yourself.”

sure, it wasn’t the most conventional display of affection, but it was yours. no sickly sweet terms of endearment, no over-the-top romantic gestures — just you and sukuna, trading insults and sharing a love that, in its own weird way, felt perfect. would you trade it?

absolutely not.

you and sukuna had never been the type to ooze affection. no heartfelt “good lucks” or mushy “come home soon” texts.

instead, your love language was passive-aggressive threats with just enough bite to keep things interesting.

“don’t fuck it up,” he’d said before your job interview, leaning casually against the counter with a smirk that hid the way his eyes lingered on you a second longer than usual.

“look who’s talking,” you shot back, adjusting your jacket in the mirror. “aren’t you the guy who choked on his coffee before his last one?”

“watch it, brat,” he muttered, grabbing his keys, but his lips twitched.

underneath the snark, though, there was always something unspoken. a silent, shared understanding that you were rooting for each other, even if neither of you would ever outright say it. and during that waiting period — the nerve-wracking limbo between interviews and callbacks — the usual jabs quieted.

it wasn’t a truce, exactly, but you both found yourself going easier on each other. sukuna would make sure you had coffee in the mornings, leaving it on the counter without a word. and you’d restock his energy drinks without him asking, slipping them into the fridge while he wasn’t looking.

when the calls finally came, first for you and then for him, the celebration was as understated as your relationship. no grand hugs or squeals of excitement — just a knowing look exchanged from across the room, a rare, genuine smile curving both your lips.

“guess you didn’t screw it up,” he teased as you set your phone down, but his voice was softer than usual, the edges rounded out by pride.

“guess you didn’t either,” you replied, tossing the comment back at him with a grin.

and maybe — just maybe — there was a fleeting kiss in the mix. something quick and almost shy, as if lingering too long might make the moment too heavy.

“don’t think this means you’re off the hook,” he muttered afterward, trying to play it cool, though his hand rested on your waist a beat longer than necessary.

“wouldn’t dream of it,” you quipped, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze.

this was just the start, the first step in what would be your new life together. and even if it wasn’t wrapped up in the typical trappings of romance, it felt right. because with sukuna, love was never about the obvious.

it was in the things left unsaid, the quiet gestures, and the stubborn refusal to admit just how much you cared — though, deep down, you both knew the truth.

you still remembered the first time sukuna kissed you.

it wasn’t some grand romantic setup or a scene out of a cheesy romance flick — it was just… sukuna. blunt, stubborn, and perfectly him.

it was after graduation, a so-called “first date,” though neither of you called it that. he had taken you to the same drive-in you’d always gone to during halloween, the one with the faded screen and popcorn that tasted more like cardboard than butter.

but this time, they weren’t showing the usual campy horror flicks you two loved to make fun of. no, this time it was la la land.

you’d raised an eyebrow when he mentioned it. “really? la la land?”

“what? you’re too good for musicals now?” he shot back, pulling into the lot like he wasn’t questioning himself at all. but you caught the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened just a bit, like he was bracing for you to laugh at him.

“no, just didn’t know you had a thing for jazz hands,” you teased, grinning when his scowl deepened.

the movie started, but naturally, the two of you barely made it through the first twenty minutes without bickering. the popcorn bag was snatched back and forth between you, each accusing the other of hogging all the caramel-coated pieces.

“you’re eating all the good ones!” you snapped, clutching the bag protectively.

“you’re imagining shit, woman,” sukuna retorted, leaning over to yank it back.

in the heat of the squabble, with your faces inches apart and insults ready to fly, he kissed you. just leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, all sharp and sudden, like he had decided there was no other way to shut you up.

you froze, your brain short-circuiting for half a second, before he pulled away with a smirk that made your blood boil and your heart race all at once.

“what the hell was that?” you demanded, staring at him.

“you were being annoying,” he said, like that was the most logical explanation in the world. but his smug expression faltered just a little when you glared at him, lips parted like you were about to really let him have it.

“you don’t just kiss someone and then pull away like that, you asshole,” you huffed. and before he could reply, you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him back, pouring every bit of your irritation — and maybe a little something else — into it.

the second kiss was different. softer, slower, and entirely mutual. neither of you pulled back this time, and when you finally did, both of you were slightly breathless.

“still annoying,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

“still an asshole,” you shot back, crossing your arms, though your cheeks burned so hot you were glad for the darkness of the car.

after that, there wasn’t much attention paid to the movie. there was a lot more kissing, though, a lot more bantering between each one. and while neither of you would ever admit it, kissing him made you feel like a stupid, giddy teenager. like you wanted to kick your feet in the air and giggle, even if the thought made you cringe internally.

it was ridiculous, it was messy, and it was entirely the two of you. just the way you liked it.

your relationship with sukuna had always been a clash of opposites.

back in your college days, he was infamous for his revolving door of women — never the same face twice, always someone new on his arm. sukuna, the loud, reckless heartthrob who could charm his way into anyone’s bed.

and then there was you: exclusive, reserved, someone who didn’t let just anyone close enough to even try. while sukuna’s name was tossed around in gossip, yours carried a quiet weight, a mix of intrigue and admiration.

it wasn’t that you were some saint — far from it. you weren’t a stranger to sex, but you didn’t hand it out like candy at a parade. your friends teased you about your “dry spells,” but you’d always brushed it off. you had standards, that was all.

meanwhile, sukuna? standards weren’t exactly his thing, or so it seemed.

so, when the two of you somehow transitioned from bickering frenemies to a full-fledged couple, there was an unspoken tension between your histories. you knew who he was, what he’d done, and he knew exactly how tightly you held your walls up. still, you worked together, two stubborn halves of something that somehow clicked.

until one night, when things heated up unexpectedly.

it started innocent enough — if “innocent” was a word that could ever describe sukuna. a clumsy makeout session in his dimly lit apartment, his hands tangled in your hair, your breath mingling with his as he pressed you against the couch. it wasn’t your first kiss, far from it, but this one was different. there was a weight to it, a hunger neither of you had acknowledged until now.

“you’re terrible at this,” you muttered against his lips, though your shaky breath betrayed you.

“yeah?” he shot back, his voice low, teasing. “seems like you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

you rolled your eyes, but before you could quip back, he kissed you again, harder this time. his hands moved to your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

it escalated quickly, too quickly. his mouth moved to your neck, and you felt the scrape of his teeth against your skin. a shiver ran through you, your hands gripping his shirt to ground yourself. this was sukuna — your sukuna — and yet, this was a side of him you hadn’t faced before.

you froze slightly when his hands wandered lower, testing the waters. for a split second, you weren’t sure what to do.

your mind raced with contradictions: the part of you that wanted to pull him closer, to let yourself get lost in him, and the other part that wanted to smack his hand away and call him out for moving too fast.

“seriously?” you blurted, breaking the kiss and glaring at him. “do you ever not act like a horndog?”

he smirked, cocky as ever, though his hands eased up. “what? you didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

“maybe because i was too distracted by your terrible kissing technique,” you shot back, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“you’re full of shit,” he said, leaning back with an exaggerated groan. but there was something softer in his gaze, a flicker of hesitation that wasn’t usually there.

“look, if you’re not into it, just say so. i’m not gonna —”

“shut up, sukuna,” you interrupted, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him back down. your lips crashed against his, and this time, there was no hesitation.

it was messy, passionate, a clash of teeth and tongues that left you both breathless. every time you thought you’d had enough, he’d kiss you in a way that made your head spin, and you’d find yourself pulling him closer all over again.

maybe you’d slap him later for being an overconfident ass, but for now? for now, you let yourself get lost in him, in the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world he’d ever want. and, as much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t regret a second of it.

sex with sukuna was its own breed of unique — a stark contrast to the wild stories he carried in his history. where you once expected a whirlwind of dominance and filthy words, what you got was something raw and unexpectedly tender, the kind of connection that made your chest ache in the best way. it wasn’t the slow, candlelit romance people wrote songs about, and it wasn’t some grand kink-fueled adventure. it was quiet, comfortable, and somehow, so deeply you two.

sukuna had his reputation, sure. tattoos, a sharp tongue, and an aura that practically screamed i don’t care about your feelings. in his youth, you imagined he’d been the kind of guy who thrived on power plays in the bedroom, leaving women weak-kneed and breathless for all the wrong reasons. hell, he probably relished in it, back in the day.

but that wasn’t what you got.

instead, he was gruff, but not in the way you’d expect. it was the kind of gruffness that came with holding back, with trying to temper himself into someone who could make you feel safe and seen. when he leaned over you, his usual arrogance was softened by something quieter, something he didn’t say out loud but you could feel in the way his hands traced over your skin.

“this okay?” he’d grumble, his voice low, trying to sound nonchalant, but you caught the way his eyes searched your face for any hesitation.

you’d nod, a little too bashful to form words, and he’d pause, eyebrows raising just slightly. “i asked if it was fine, not if you could sit there like a scared rabbit.”

“sukuna,” you’d groan, slapping his shoulder. but your face would heat up anyway, and he’d smirk like the cocky ass he was, though his hands stayed steady, patient.

if you didn’t answer quickly enough, he’d ask again, his actions slowing to a near halt. “hey,” he’d say, leaning down just enough so his lips brushed your ear, “you gonna tell me, or do I have to stop?”

“don’t stop,” you’d finally mutter, voice barely above a whisper, and he’d let out the most obnoxious chuckle, something halfway between pride and amusement.

“thought so,” he’d say smugly, resuming his movements — but gentler than his tone suggested, always so much gentler. it wasn’t about control or ego, though you knew he liked to push you just enough to make you squirm. no, it was about making sure you were there with him every step of the way.

it was new, this side of him that catered to you, the way he’d catch your gaze when he thought you were feeling shy or uncertain. sometimes, you wanted to throttle him for the way he’d tease you, like it was a sport. other times, you wanted to melt into him for the way his hands would guide you, steady and secure, like he had all the time in the world for you and no one else.

but your favorite part? it was always the aftercare.

where sukuna usually thrived on chaos and crudeness, after sex, he was different. softer, quieter, almost dazed. he’d hold you like he was afraid you’d slip away, his arms wrapped around you a little tighter than usual.

“you good?” he’d ask, his voice gruff but quiet.

you’d nod, and he’d huff, pressing his chin to your head. “drink some water,” he’d grumble, even as he was already reaching for the glass on the nightstand.

he wouldn’t joke as much, at least not in the way that made you want to kick him. instead, he’d run his fingers absentmindedly through your hair, muttering about how you’d better not go passing out on him. he’d press lazy, almost featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheek, anywhere he could reach without moving too much.

and if you curled closer to him, burying your face in his chest, he wouldn’t say anything. he’d just hold you tighter, his fingers tracing slow patterns on your back, grounding both of you in the moment.

sometimes, you’d laugh to yourself, thinking about how this man — this loud, sharp-edged, unapologetically rough man — had turned into a vanilla sap just for you. and other times, you’d bite your lip and blush at the thought that he was yours. completely and utterly yours.

you’d never admit it out loud, but the way he took care of you? the way he toned down all the bravado and just was with you? it made you love him more than words could ever say.

the first real fight wasn’t the playful sparring you and sukuna usually indulged in. it wasn’t the sarcastic quips or half-serious insults that usually left both of you laughing by the end. this time, it was different.

the argument started small, something inconsequential, but quickly spiraled into a storm of raised voices and sharp words. sukuna’s tone was harsh, and your stubbornness was just as sharp. you were used to challenging each other, but this felt heavier, like neither of you was willing to back down.

“you’re not even listening to me!” you snapped, your voice breaking in frustration.

“yeah? and you’re so damn perfect at communicating?” sukuna shot back, his words biting.

the tension was suffocating, the air in your shared apartment thick with unresolved emotions.

and then it happened — he grabbed his jacket, slammed the door, and left.

the sound of the door shutting echoed in your ears, and you froze, your chest tight. sukuna didn’t just leave. not like this.

he left home.

it wasn’t just an apartment. it was the place where you built something together, where you shared quiet mornings and loud, chaotic evenings. it was the place that held laughter, tears, and everything in between.

and now it felt unbearably empty.

you wanted to scream, to throw something, to lash out at the ache in your chest. but you knew that chasing him down with your usual fire would only pour gasoline on the flames. so you swallowed your pride, slipped on your fuzzy slippers, and bolted out the door.

you spotted him a few blocks down, his tall figure unmistakable even under the dim streetlights. his pace was fast, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. he looked pissed, but there was something about the way his shoulders hunched slightly that made your heart clench.

“sukuna!” you called, your voice louder than you intended.

he didn’t stop.

“dammit, will you stop walking for one second?” you yelled again, jogging to catch up to him.

when he finally turned around, his expression was a mixture of anger and surprise. “what the hell are you doing?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “it’s late.”

“yeah, and whose fault is that?” you shot back, before taking a deep breath. no, not this time. no more yelling.

“look,” you started, your voice softer now, though your chest was still heaving from the sprint.

“i’m sorry. i mean it. not the sarcastic, biting kind of sorry. a real one. i shouldn’t have — ” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “i shouldn’t have made it about winning. i was wrong.”

sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. the silence stretched, and you felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes.

“...dammit,” he muttered, his shoulders dropping. “i was a dick too.”

you blinked, surprised. sukuna rarely apologized, and when he did, it was never straightforward.

“yeah, you were,” you replied, a small, tentative smile creeping onto your face.

he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “you don’t make this easy, you know that?”

“neither do you,” you shot back, stepping closer.

he sighed, his hands leaving his pockets to pull you into a hug that was as awkward as it was comforting. “you’re lucky i didn’t get too far,” he grumbled into your hair.

“you’re lucky i chased after you,” you countered, though you clung to him just as tightly.

and just like that, the tension broke. it wasn’t perfect — there were still things to talk about, wounds to mend — but in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms on a dimly lit street, you both knew this was home.

sukuna would never say it outright — hell, he’d rather swallow nails than admit it — but he had your back when it came to that time of the month.

he tracked your cycle like a tactical mission, not because he was obsessed with you or anything (his words), but because it was easier to prepare than to deal with the aftermath of being caught off guard.

“what, you think i like listening to you whine about not having your stupid chocolate?” he’d grumble, dumping a bag of your favorite snacks onto the counter with an air of exaggerated suffering. but there was no mistaking the care behind the gesture, no matter how much he tried to play it off.

medicines? stocked. pads and tampons? stocked. heating pads? ready to go. hell, he even had a backup stash of painkillers tucked into his drawer at work in case you ran out at home.

he wasn’t perfect, of course. sukuna had zero patience when you were in one of your mood swings, snapping at him for breathing too loudly or sitting “wrong.” but he’d weather it, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.

“you done yelling at me, or you wanna go another round?” he’d ask, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

but the moment you started crying — whether it was over a sad commercial or pure frustration — his entire demeanor shifted.

“hey, hey, cut that out,” he’d say, pulling you into his chest despite his grumbling. “you’re not allowed to cry over dumb shit while i’m around, alright? i’ll give you something real to cry about.”

when you were touch-starved, he’d let you cling to him, even if it meant sitting through a three-hour movie you’d already watched ten times. when you were touch-repulsed, he’d keep his distance but stay close enough to hand you water or make sure you were comfortable.

and when you were too tired to shower, he’d step in without hesitation, grumbling all the while. “can’t believe i’m doing this,” he’d mutter as he adjusted the water temperature and gently washed your hair. “you owe me a massage or something after this.”

he’d change the bedsheets without complaint, tossing you one of his oversized shirts afterward. “don’t stretch it out, or i’ll kick your ass,” he’d say, but you both knew he didn’t mean it. he even kept a corner of his closet stocked with clothes he didn’t mind you ruining — shirts and sweatpants that were practically yours at this point, though he’d never admit it.

“don’t get used to this,” he’d say, watching as you shuffled into the living room in his clothes, burritoed in a blanket. but the way his gaze softened as you curled up on the couch, finally comfortable, betrayed him.

for all his rough edges, sukuna handled you with a quiet kind of love — grumbling, sarcastic, but steady. he might call it “dealing with your bullshit,” but deep down, you both knew better.

it wasn’t a night you’d easily forget — not because of the celebration itself, but because of what came out of your mouth when you were deep into a rum-induced haze.

the bar was alive with the thrum of music and the clang of glasses, laughter and shouting merging into a chaotic symphony that somehow suited you and sukuna. the two of you had ridden in on bikes, looking like a mismatched pair of rebels — him towering, tatted, and menacing, and you just as fierce but smaller, less overtly intimidating.

"you know," sukuna drawled, leaning against the bar with a lazy grin that had been charming women for years, “if you weren’t already mine, i’d be trying to pick you up right now.”

you rolled your eyes, though your own grin betrayed how much you enjoyed the rare moment of his playful charm. “you’re an idiot,” you shot back, taking another shot and wincing as it burned down your throat.

but then, in the lull between his next teasing remark, you blurted it out. “i love you.”

the words landed like a hammer.

sukuna froze, the smirk slipping from his face. the rowdy atmosphere of the bar seemed to fade into static as he stared at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was trying to gauge whether or not he’d heard you correctly.

"what?" he asked, voice lower than usual, his usual bravado stripped away.

you blinked at him, too tipsy to care about the weight of what you just said. “i love you, stupid. don’t make me say it again.”

and just like that, it was as if someone had pulled the rug out from under him. sukuna, the guy who had once been a whirlwind of hookups and no-strings-attached chaos, was sober in an instant. not because he didn’t like what he heard — no, it was the opposite. it was because those words had been lodged somewhere deep inside him, waiting for the right moment to claw their way out, even if he refused to admit it to himself.

he didn’t say anything right away. instead, he paid the tab, his movements oddly methodical, and threw his leather jacket over your shoulders.

“c’mon,” he muttered, voice gruff as he guided you to the door.

“what’s the rush?” you slurred, stumbling slightly as he helped you onto the bike.

“the rush is you’re drunk and saying shit you don’t mean,” he snapped, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

you didn’t protest after that, leaning into him as he drove the two of you home. by the time you reached the apartment, he was practically hauling you inside, grumbling about how you were a lightweight.

as he set you down on the couch and pulled a blanket over you, the words escaped him, unbidden and softer than he’d have liked.

“i love you too, idiot.”

he thought you were out cold, your breathing slow and even. but the faintest smile tugged at your lips, and a quiet mumble escaped you:

“heard that.”

he froze, a flush creeping up his neck. “shut up and go to sleep,” he barked, but the gentleness with which he tucked you in betrayed him.

you didn’t say anything else, and neither did he, but the air between you felt lighter, warmer. it wasn’t perfect or grand, but it was yours — messy, stubborn, and just enough.

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[jellyfishsthings]

Family Redesigned

WARNINGS: I guess my bad writting

An: Decided to take a spin with the DC Fandom and write for my favourite... not quite well if I might admit...

requests are open

In the bustling halls of Wayne Enterprises, where marble floors gleamed and the scent of strong coffee lingered in the air, a young woman was about to redefine what it meant to be a modern pioneer. Her project, a cutting-edge programmed nanotechnology that would apply to the neurons of injured people that lost a member of their body to work with a robotic substitute. She and her team had fascinated not only the attendees of the annual science gala but also caught the attention of none other than Bruce Wayne himself. With his signature charm and a penchant for philanthropy, he had decided to fund their ambitious endeavor.

Little did she know, their project was not only stirring excitement among investors but also causing an unwanted stir in the hearts of the Wayne family. Dick Grayson, Bruce’s charming and light-hearted adopted son, had just mustered the courage to express his feelings. Whenever he bumped into her while delivering coffee or visiting the lab, his confident smile often accompanied a playful quip.

“Are you sure you’re not an engineer? Because you’ve clearly engineered a way into my heart,” he quipped one afternoon, leaning casually against the doorway as she adjusted the settings on her prototype.

“Very smooth, Grayson,” she responded, feigning disinterest but unable to suppress a smile.

“Oh, come on,” Dick continued, taking a step closer. “With this project of yours, you must have some serious chemistry skills.”

She rolled her eyes, her cheeks slightly pink as she returned her focus to the project. Flirting was hard for her to deal with when she was neck-deep in wiring and graphs. Still, there was something charming about Dick, a knack for making even the dullest moments seem vibrant.

Their first encounter was the most memorable.

It started innocently enough one day when she was deep in thought, surrounded by scattered papers in a bustling Wayne Enterprises lounge. Suddenly, she collided with a tall body, scattering her carefully organized notes like confetti.

“Watch it!” she grumbled, looking up to find a charming yet roguish face stifling a laugh.

“Sorry about that. But in my defense, you were like a tornado going through your notes,” he said with a smirk. “Dick Grayson, at your service.”

She raised an eyebrow, judging by his look of mischief that he was trouble wrapped in charisma. “Thanks, but I prefer my tornadoes to be slightly less charming and a little more focused.”

“Touché,” Dick said, taking a seat across from her. “What’s the project about? Saving the world, I hope?”

“Something like that,” she said, her competitive spirit sparking. “It’s about harnessing neurotic energy using nanotechnology. Bruce always has an eye for the future.”

“Very ambitious! Perhaps you’ll save the planet, then?” Dick leaned closer, the playful glint in his eyes suggesting he wasn’t just flirting with her project.

“Or get a decent grade. Much less glamorous, I know,” she chuckled, feeling the conversation warming up. A hint of blush crept onto her cheeks, an odd reaction she hadn’t expected.

“Who said grades can’t be glamorous? I once did a project on the benefits of pizza," Dick confessed, to which Edwina burst out laughing.

As their banter continued, she unwittingly inspired Dick. He began to hover around her lab more often, throwing out quips and jokes, but every time she flipped the script and tossed back a rebuke, he felt an exhilarating challenge.

Meanwhile, in another part of the Wayne manor, the youngest of Bruce’s million children, Damian Wayne, was busy brooding over a math homework that seemed more challenging than his usual sword fighting practice. She, having spotted the little assassin frowning at an open book, had selflessly offered her help. Miraculously, Damian had absorbed her explanations, hanging onto her every word as if they were the last pages of a thrilling novel. “Why do you care about this so much?” Damian asked, eyebrows furrowed as he struggled with a particularly difficult algebraic equation.

“Because everyone needs a little help sometimes,” She replied earnestly with a gentle smile.

Somewhere between deciphering equations and sharing small laughs, something unexpected happened. The stoic young assassin found himself blushing under his usual grumpy demeanor. This made his heart race—a feeling he had never quite felt before.

“I… appreciate it,” he finally muttered, this surprising show of gratitude softening his usually cold exterior.

Back at the HQ of the Wayne enterprises, Bruce Wayne was having his own crisis. Normally known for his unreadable expression and laser-focused business sense, he found it exceedingly hard to ignore her enthusiasm when she discussed her project during one of their weekly meetings. She was bright, driven, and utterly disarming, diving into topics like neuroscience and computer science, while Bruce sat at the edge of his seat, hanging onto her every word.

“Her project is admirable, I mean if you look at the prototypes and the coding or the engineering sketches she and her team had made,” Bruce said, inadvertently leaning forward in his chair. “That’s… brilliant.”

“Uhhh, Dad?” Dick nudged him, eyes glinting with amusement. “Slightly creepy how you’re hanging off her every word like that. Just a bit.”

“Shut up, Dick,” Bruce shot back, too distracted to notice the amused laughter of his other children.

But the chaos didn’t end there. Jason Todd, the rebellious older sibling participating in a book club as part of his community service, came home one evening with surprising news. With mischief lighting up his face, he proclaimed, “You guys will never guess who I met at the book club. Dick's godess that accidentally fell on earth is a member! Can you believe it?”

“Yeah, right,” Dick replied, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You must have a real knack for screwing things up, Jay. She wouldn't join anything that would put her with you.”

“Oh, she totally did,” Jason insisted, grinning. “In fact, we bonded over a mutual disdain for the ending of the last Batman novel.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that,” Damian deadpanned, though his intrigue was evident.

The realization hit Dick hard, and it came with an overshadowing sense of protectiveness. The thought of his family all being smitten with the same woman—his girlfriend no less—was an unwelcome twist. As she began to flutter into their lives more and more, he felt his shield of vigilance slip away amidst the chaos of her radiant energy.

The day of the big presentation arrived, and she stood behind her booth, butterflies in her stomach. The Wayne family, now a blend of supportive allies, stood gathered, every one of them uncharacteristically eager. Bruce, Dick, and even the usually unimpressed Damian sat side by side, eager to see her shine.

She began speaking about her prototype, detailing the mechanics and the purpose behind her project, each word pulling the audience deeper into her passion.

When she spoke of miscalculations and victories, Bruce nodded in agreement, making direct eye contact with her. Dick watched with a mixture of admiration and mild jealousy, while Damian listened intently, his mind processing the logistics of her project.

“Thank you all for supporting me,” she concluded, now beaming with excitement. “I genuinely believe we can make a difference, one person at a time.”In that moment, something snapped. Bruce, usually so guarded, smiled genuinely and exclaimed, “That’s fantastic ! I’ve never heard anyone articulate the importance of neuroscience and engineering so well.”

Her blush was immediate, and the warm glow in her cheeks competed with Dick's growing admiration. Just when all seemed to settle, Dick leaned over softly towards her, whispering, “Now that’s quite the power move, mind if I take you out to celebrate your big win?”

“Maybe after you help solve some math problems for Damian,” she teased, laughter spilling from her lips as realization struck the brothers.

“Maybe both,” she added cheekily, eyeing Damian, who was trying to maintain a grumpy expression despite the spark of joy in his eyes.

With the evening coming to an end and plans being made amidst shared laughter, she found a place in the hearts of the Waynes, her project becoming more than just science. It was fueled by the chemistry, unpredictability, and warmth of family and specifically love.

[therealagustd]

Suguru fluff for the soul (and because we all miss him)(ft. Satoru):

You wore his clothes

Suguru is the type to see you wearing his clothes, then smile and say, "It suits you." Maybe you were cold, and it was close by, so he'd leave an extra hoodie or jacket around after that.

Just in case.

And if Satoru saw, he'd be dramatic as hell about it and put his own jacket over you and say, "There, now you're properly dressed." and Suguru would be like, "It's not a competition, Satoru" and Gojo would be like, "It's always a competition, Suguru".

He caught you dancing

Suguru's the type to cross his arms, smile, and lean against the doorway. If you noticed him, he'd laugh and go, "Do continue, I believe you were just getting to the best part?". If you asked him not to tell anyone? "...I dunno, Satoru might need to see this..."

Festival prize winning

Suguru would see Satoru trying to win you a prize, being his dramatic self and telling Suguru to sit this one out because he's already the best and "not to embarrass himself" (Gojo messes up the first few times.)

Meanwhile, Suguru easily finished the festival game in a swift move, and he just hands you the gift with a smile and says, "No theatrics, just results. Enjoy."

Amusement park bumper cars

(Okay, this one's kinda self indulgent. Have you ever been to an amusement park, but you hate or can't handle the big, dramatic rides? Same.)

You're in a bumper car, Suguru's in one, and so is Satoru. And here comes Satoru, trying to smash his car into Suguru's, yelling about "This is for all the times you rolled your eyes at me!" or something similar. And during the whole speil, Suguru's effortlessly making sure you don't get bumped and you eventually team up against Satoru and chase him in the bumper cars until he's screaming about betrayal.

Claw machines

Alright, Geto's on the move. You've failed at least 10 times with this thing, and it's not even a payout one!

But before he can, Gojo swoops in and takes over, boasting about how he's the best at these.

And in his rich boy energy, he's trying over and over, promising you that stuffed creature inside.

"Alright, this is how a pro does it. I've got the precision, the timing and... oh come on! This is clearly rigged."

And because Gojo is Gojo, he spends way too much money on the machine until he wins you a prize and is all smug and says, "All in a day's work - I'll accept my repayment in the form of snacks."

Meanwhile, Geto calmly walks to the machine and wins a prize in the first try.

Trying to fight back a laugh at Satoru's expression, he hands you the prize and goes, "It's about angles and patience. That's all."

Gojo's telling him that he had just gotten beginner's luck.

You keep both prizes on your bed.

Painting together

You agreed on a painting session. You and Geto were supposed to be doing it together, but of course Gojo had to come and crash the party.

So now Satoru's boasting about his painting (a self portrait), and how he made a masterpiece.

And you check on Suguru, and he's painted the most beautifully detailed purple flower, and he smiles at you before gently tapping your nose with the handle end of the brush so you'd snap out of it and go back to painting.

And you do.

He's glancing over at you and your painting, happy that you're by his side.

[uceyliyahh]

SOMETHING BOUT’ US

Summary: "I want you more than anything in my life." After being in a difficult relationship with Carmelo Yasmine decided to move on from him and become the next big thing while getting drafted on the smackdown roster she always thought she would never find love again due to her commitment issues until she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 3590

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Yasmine

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

7.

YASMINE It was Crown Jewel day, and I was nervous to say the least about tonight's main event, which involved me going against Liv Morgan for her title. I couldn't believe that I'd be having my first PPV tonight; thinking about it gave me butterflies in my stomach.

I was in my hotel room watching TV while eating some food that I had ordered from the menu that they had in the room. I haven't heard from Jey since we last saw each other, and I started to miss him because he normally doesn't go days without texting or calling me.

That's when I felt my phone buzzing as I grabbed it from the dresser, seeing that Trinity had texted me.

Trin🤭🫶🏽 sent a message.

IMESSAGE 💬 Trin🤭🫶🏽: Hey, girly I was checking up on you to see how you were doing? Minnie🧃: I'm doing fine just nervous about today Trin🤭🫶🏽: girl, you're going to be fine just bring that title home for us Minnie🧃: Trin, you know I got'chu if you want a title shot Trin🤭🫶🏽: fasho girl I know Minnie🧃: also have you heard from Jey? Trin🤭🫶🏽: last time I check him and Jon were heading to the gym together then hangout with some friends before the show Minnie🧃: oh okay Trin🤭🫶🏽: did something happen? Minnie🧃: nah I just wanted to see if you have heard from him since he hasn't text me or called me at least Trin🤭🫶🏽: hm, that's not like him I'll see what's going on but I'll see you later girl byeee love you Minnie🧃: love you too

After texting Trinity, I decided to munch on my food while continuing to watch my show on Netflix. Jey and I have been doing this friends-with-benefits thing ever since we met.

I knew he was my person, my peacemaker, especially whenever I'm feeling down or about to panic. He's always right there to fix it, no matter what, but for some odd reason, I started to feel more for him than I should.

Maybe it was the dick that was making me feel this way about him, not knowing how he felt entirely, but it was odd not hearing from him all day today.

I'll probably see him at work or something, then we could talk about it, hopefully.

✧˚° I finally made it to work, seeing everyone that I was cool with backstage. Meanwhile, I was looking for Jey, hoping that I'd see him and greet him with hugs and kisses like I normally do.

As I was walking down toward Montez's locker room, I caught something. It was Jey speaking to Liv, for whatever reason, so I went behind the corner and watched them.

His energy seemed a bit flirty, and the way he felt up on her like he did with me almost shattered me. I sighed deeply, getting out of the corner and continuing to walk towards my brother's locker room.

Walking past them as Jey made eye contact with me before I rolled my eyes at him going towards Montez's locker room. Maybe he didn't feel the same way like I did.

As I walked in my brother's locker room I saw Bianca sitting on the couch gazing up at me with a smile as I did the same to her.

I sat down on the couch, looking up at the screen and seeing the commutators speaking about the matches for tonight. Bianca could sense my energy seemed a bit off as she nudged my shoulder.

"You okay Minks?" Bianca asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine just nervous about my match for the main event," I said while having flashbacks of seeing Jey with Liv being all up on her.

"Are you sure? You seemed pretty uncomfortable about something," I said, shaking my head and telling her that I was fine and just needed a moment by myself.

That's when I felt my phone vibrating, seeing a text from an unknown number that seemed like they had sent me a picture.

When I opened the message, it felt like my whole world had stopped spinning. It was a picture of Jey and Liv, with him having her in a back-shot position and the message saying, 'Hey, girl.' I didn't want to express those feelings toward Bianca, so I went out to the locker room for a moment, trying to calm myself down before I had a mental breakdown.

How could he? Why would he do this? I went inside the bathroom, went inside the stall, and began bawling my eyes out in silence so that nobody would hear me.

I put my trust into a nigga that would just do me dirty now everyone is going to be looking at me all weirdly.

After I was bawling my eyes out, I opened the stall and looked inside the mirror, touching up my makeup, praying that I wouldn't see him again or anymore. Ion even wanna tell Montez about it. Hell, he probably knows.

I walked out of the bathroom and toward Ms. Kim to check on my gear and make sure everything was okay. When I went that way, I saw Carmelo talking to somebody, but I didn't pay attention to him.

He saw me walking past him and tried to grab my arm, but I quickly snatched it away.

"Are you good, Yasmine? " he asked. I just rolled my eyes at him, wondering why he cared if I was okay.

I just nodded my head and walked away because I didn't want to engage in the conversation anymore. I honestly didn't want to talk to anybody.

Ms. Kim saw me walking toward her, and she smiled at me.

"Hey, Yasmine, I see that you're here for your attire?" She said.

"Yeah, I just wanted to come pick it up so that I could have it before my match," I said as she nodded her head and gave me my attire.

My eyes sparkled with excitement. I love the detail of the gear; it just suited me so well. I thanked Ms. Kim before heading back toward Montez's locker room.

✧˚° I sat in my brother's locker room, lost in thought about what I'd seen while watching the matches on his TV.

I'm still puzzled. What did I do wrong? Did he not see me as good enough? I guess it shouldn't bother me since we're friends with benefits, right?

As I watched TV, a knock on the door signaled someone to come in, but I didn't look at them until they were right in front of me.

When I looked up, I saw that it was him—the person I didn't even want to see at the moment.

My eyebrows furrowed a bit, and I sighed deeply. " What? Why are you in my face for?" I remarked, giving him an attitude.

"Let me explain, Minks," Jey begged as I rolled my eyes at him.

"There's nothing for you to explain, Josh. I thought I could trust you, and I gave my BODY to you. Is this what you do? I understand that we are friends with benefits but damn," I wanted to lash out on him so bad but it just wasn't in me I didn't need this when I have a match coming up.

I got up from the couch, not wanting to speak to him anymore when he grabbed me by the waist and looked deeply into my brown eyes.

Those same eyes that captured me hypnotized me.

"C'mon, don't do this. She doesn't mean anything to me, mama." I wanted to give in so badly, but he didn't deserve it. He can be with her instead of me.

"Let me go, Ion' have time for this. We are only friends with benefits, right? It shouldn't matter anyway; I have a match to go to." I pulled away from his grasp before going towards the gorilla, trying to pump myself up until I saw her walking past me with a smirk.

She was mouthing, "he's mine now," I wanted to knock the brains outta her so bad but I kept it professional smiling at her as her music began playing.

I had to keep my emotions together putting them to the side for right now not wanting to mess up my opportunity to take away that damn belt from her.

My music began to play as the cameraman was next me while I mouthed, "it's show time yall," while walking out the gorilla hearing the people cheering for me.

Just reminded me when I was in NXT going against Roxanne for her title, I blew kisses to everyone while skipping towards the ring.

"And her opponent from Brooklyn, New York weighing in at 148 pounds YASMINE!!!!"

I smiled at waved at everyone giving them a high five before flipping my hair in the process I know that this was getting underneath her skin.

I got on top of the ropes sitting on them while I flipped over them landing a spilt on the ground before getting back up.

"Yasmine is honestly a very talented athlete Cole,"

"I agree with you hundred percent Graves she's going to be the next face of the company,"

I took off my jacket and cap throwing it outside of the ring. I hyped myself as the referee held up the title before ringing the bell.

"1!" "2!" "3!"

"Oh my god! She did it! Yasmine is your new women's world champion!"

"She honestly deserves it,"

I was absolutely stunned when I defeated Liv Morgan. Although Dom and Jey provided some interference, I still managed to emerge victorious in a fair manner. The look of despair in Liv's eyes was evident. Perhaps this was Karma's way of teaching her a lesson, but let's not dwell on that. The referee presented me with the title, and as I held my hand, I couldn't help but feel a pang of pain in my stomach.

Hearing the crowd screaming that I deserved it made my heart warm. I blew them kisses before rolling out of the room and heading towards the gorilla.

I saw Bianca, Trinity, Montez and Jon standing there waiting on me as I walked inside they all came up to me hugging me tightly.

I cried happy tears while embracing them together; I looked up for a second, seeing Jey standing there with his arms crossed around his chest.

He seemed proud of me for what I had accomplished.

"We are honestly so proud of you, baby girl!" Trinity said.

"Girl, ion' know you be doing them moves when you're so little bro," I shrugged my shoulders at her telling her that it's just a skill and learning mechanism for me.

After they congratulated me, I saw Jey walking up towards me, and I rolled my eyes at him. "Can we talk alone?" I sighed softly, nodding my head as I followed him toward his and Jonathan's locker room, which they shared together.

We both made it to their locker room as he opened the door for me to come in first before him while shutting the door behind him. I sat down on the couch, placing my championship next to me.

It was nothing but silence. I don't think I have the energy to deal with this, especially after tonight's match.

"You wanted to talk so speak up," I retorted while folding my arms.

I knew that he liked my sassy attitude, but I was honestly dead-ass serious about this one, hearing a light, dark chuckle escape his lips.

"You wanna fix that tone of yours, little mama?" He questioned me.

"No, I will not fix my fucking tone nigga. I have every right to have this funky ass attitude with yo' ass playing in my fucking face," I was lashing out at him badly, knowing that what he did really did shatter me and now made me more closed off.

"Like, why me? What did I do so wrong to deserve that? When I saw you as my peacemaker, someone I could go to without feeling guilty..." Jey listened attentively, hearing me lash out at him.

"It was a mistake, Minks. I swear it wasn't supposed to go that far." I shook my head, knowing that he was lying just to get out of it.

"It was a fucking choice not a damn mistake, you know my fucking brother trusted you? And now you have broken that trust for some whore," I vented while wiping the tears away from my cheeks.

I got up from the couch, holding my championship on my shoulder and staring down at him deeply, "Maybe I was a fool to fall in love with you, maybe it was dick that was making me feel this way or something, but I hope you and her both have a wonderful life together I'm gone Josh," before I could head out the door I felt him scooping me up by the thighs causing me to yelp as he took us over to his couch keeping me place on his lap.

His arms snaked around my waist, and I placed my championship next to him, wrapping my arms around his neck for support.

"Don't go please minks, You know I love you," Jey said placing soft kisses on my neck.

"If you loved me, you wouldn't be with Liv Morgan now, would ya?" I tried to resist his wet kisses trailing down my neck because I didn't want to give in; that's how it'll make me look dumb.

"She doesn't mean anything to me like you do," I said, turning away from him, not wanting to listen to anything else he had to say.

He continued to give me wet soft kisses on my neck while placing his hands on my ass cheeks squeezing them both.

I didn't know if this was his way of saying sorry it's definitely working because I am starting to give in to this man as my anger started to go away.

My body didn't operate properly whenever he touched me, Jey gazed up at me seeing me trembling under his touch.

"C'mon you know you love this shit," this was manipulation at this point but he wasn't wrong about that. I managed to push him away while getting up from his lap grabbing my title in the process.

"T-this doesn't feel right at all Josh, after you fucked her now you wanna get into my panties? Nah I'm not doing this with you anymore I'm out," I said as I left his locker room leaving him dumbfounded.

✧˚° OMNISCIENT Yasmine been getting a bunch of miss calls from Jey ever since she left the arena, she was in her hotel room with the blankets over her body watching a movie that's when she heard her door knocking.

She groaned deeply feeling annoyed as she got up from the bed while going towards the door looking through the peephole to see who it was.

It was Trinity standing there along with Bianca she opened the door seeing them look at her. She let them in as she went towards her bed sitting on it.

"Girl, what's is going on with you and Jey?" Trinity questioned her.

'What the fuck did he tell them?'

'Ion' even wanna bring his ass up after what he did,'

"I'm not speaking to him anymore after what he did," She said folding her arms in the process.

They both looked at each other then back at her with a confused expression on their faces. "What do you mean?"

That's when she explained to them that Jey had been fucking around with Liv while showing them the picture that she had gotten from Liv's phone number.

They were shocked to say the least even Trinity knowing that Jey was a loyal man but this was something surprising to her.

"Did you at least hear him out?" Yasmine shook her head.

"No, I refused to listen to him whatsoever because he didn't seem trustful," Yasmine replied as she heard the girls sigh.

Yasmine eyebrows furrowed slightly as she looked at them with a perplexed expression before saying something. "What y'all?"

They both looked at each other and then back at Yasmine.

"We feel like y'all should talk things out—" That's when she lost it.

"IM SORRY? I AM NOT GOING OUT MY WAY JUST FOR HIM TO FUCK ME AND THEN BE WITH THAT WHORE LIV. TALK THINGS OUT TUH." She lashed out at them, running her fingers through her hair, feeling frustrated.

"We understand that, but at least hear him out. Minks for us, please," Bianca begged, seeing Yasmine in disbelief.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing right now, her best friends telling her to listen to a man who fucked another girl and played in her face.

The only way she could listen to what he had to say was if he was going through something or feeling bad about it.

"No, no, I'm not going to do that respectfully. I love you guys, but if you're going to take his side, then all can leave." With that, Yasmine got up from her bed and went towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind her as she slid down on it.

Covering herself in between her legs along with muffled cries and tears coming down her cheeks, she didn't want to speak to him.

She didn't want to deal with him any further, but her heart said something different. She knew that he meant well and didn't want it to happen, but it did.

Yasmine knew that she loved him, that he was her peacemaker, especially when dealing with complicated things like this.

She sat there for a while in the bathroom before hopping in the shower, trying to clear her thoughts.

After taking a shower, she put on some comfy clothes while picking up her phone, debating whether to text him or go see him in his hotel room.

Biting her fingernails she looked at the time, all she could think 'damn he's probably sleep right now,' But she decided to say fuck it and go see him to hear what he has to say.

She put on her slippers and Hoodie while going towards the elevator since his room was on the second floor. Yasmine waited patiently for the elevator to go up to the second floor remembering his room number.

The elevator doors opened as she walked out, heading towards his hotel room. When she approached his room, she knocked on the door, waiting for him to come open it.

Yasmine had her arms folded around her chest as she heard footsteps from behind the door. When the door swung open, he was standing there towering over her 5'2 "figure.

He was shirtless, with his Cuban gold chain around his neck. He was also wearing some sweats and his slides.

"What'chu doing here this late, little mama?" He asked, looking around the hallway.

"I came to see you...I wanna hear what you have to say Josh..." Yasmine said gazing up at the fine Samoan specimen.

He nodded his head while stepping aside for her to come into his room as he shut the door behind them. She sat down on his bed, which smelt like him. His scent put her in a trance.

"You want something to drink, little lady?" She nodded her head as he gave her a cold water bottle.

Once he was settled in, he sat down next to her, admiring her features while he placed his hands on her thigh, rubbing it and letting out a sigh. "Look, what I did was wrong, and I didn't mean for it to happen but she kept pushing me and pushing me until I couldn't anymore without even thinking that it would hurt you minks,"

Yasmine was listening to him attentively, gazing into his brown, pretty eyes.

"I was planning on coming to see you, too, but she came in the way, and I didn't know about the picture she took either. Like I said before, you mean way more to me than her," Jey said, intertwining his hands with her small ones.

"I'm sorry, mama, like for real." She looked into his eyes to see if there was any sincerity behind his words, and there was.

She turned around to face him while sighing deeply, "You know how much that hurt me, Josh? Seeing you in that position with her? It felt like a bullet shot me dead in the heart after seeing that," Yasmine heard her voice crack a little bit.

"You're my peacemaker, and I felt like I lost my person," his eyebrows began to furrow a bit when she said that.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

Yasmine was very hesitant to express her feelings to him because she wasn't sure if he felt the same way as she did, so she just left it alone. She opened her mouth, beginning to say something, but nothing came out, so she closed it while avoiding eye contact with him.

That's when he grabbed her by the chin, placing his soft lips onto hers. This caught her off guard, but she managed to catch on as their lips moved in sync.

Wrapping her arms around his neck as he placed her onto his lap, causing her to grind on him while he gave her ass a smack.

"Fuck, I love you so much, Minks, you don't even know," He confessed as her facial expressions became perplexed.

"Y-you what?" She questioned him.

"You heard me, little girl. I said I love you like you're in love with me, right?" His statement shocked her.

Was this true? That he actually loves her?

"You playing right?" Jey shook his head, gazing up at her.

"No, I'm not. I'm serious, mamas; I'm serious about us," that made her heart flutter as she smiled at him, knowing how he loved it whenever she smiled.

For the rest of the night, they made love, embracing each other's scent.

SOMETHING BOUT' US

A/n: sorrrry for the late update I've been busy at work this past week but I'll be updating again but I hope what Jey is saying is true because ion like it when Yasmine is getting played especially after dealing with Mello ass.

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

[caramelt4me]

Secret. - Part V

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

Trigger warning: mention of sexual content, violence, substance ab*se, manipulation, power imbalance, unresolved trauma and angst

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Prologue Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

“𝔽*ck it, let’s just watch The Exorcist.”

Asher declared; his tone as casual as if he were ordering takeout.

He didn’t even spare Nex more than a fleeting glance, already pulling you tighter into his lap. His arm draped over your shoulders with the ease of someone asserting ownership, his breath warm as he purred into your ear. “Iconic, terrifying, and it gives me the perfect excuse to hold my baby tight. Don’t you agree, honey?”

Your ears throbbed with heat, a telltale sign of your flustered state. His amused blue eyes drank it all in, a smirk playing on his lips as if he thrived on your bashfulness.

Nex, perched awkwardly at the far end of the couch, cleared his throat.

His bandaged fingers were fidgety as the pink haired male hunched his shoulders –making him look like a guilty child caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Uh…how about something, you know, lighter? Like Howl’s Moving Castle? Or Paddington? Even Mean Girls?” His voice wavered, hopeful but clearly trying not to let his aversion to horror bleed through too much.

Asher turned his head slowly, the deliberate movement alone enough to make Nex regret opening his mouth. His piercing gaze locked on Nex like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Seriously?” he deadpanned. “You’re afraid of a spinning head and a little green puke? What are you, five?”

“It’s not just about me!” Nex snapped, trying to sound defensive but failing miserably as he faltered under Asher’s glare. “I mean, she might not like horror too—”

“She?”

Asher’s expression darkened in an instant, his icy blue eyes narrowing. “It’s Noona* or Hyeong-sunim* to you. Pick one.”

Nex visibly shrank, his bandaged hands clutching his hoodie strings like a lifeline.

“N-Noona,” he stammered beet-red, sounding like a kid in the principal’s office. “I meant Noona might not like scary stuff either.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Asher’s sharp tone melted away as if it had never been there. A disarmingly warm smile replaced the menace as he nuzzled into your shoulder, making you jolt.

“Besides, you don’t have to look out for my girl,” he said with syrupy sweetness, directing his words at you now, “We get enough romance in real life, don’t we, baby? A little possession and head-spinning won’t hurt.”

You blinked, torn between laughing, crying, or bolting from the room altogether. But Asher’s arms locked firmly around your waist, leaving you no choice but to stay rooted in his lap, acutely aware of Nex’s twitchy discomfort.

“Fine,” Nex muttered, defeated, sinking into the couch with a sigh.

The room dimmed as the movie began, the haunting tones of its score filling the silence. You tried to focus on the screen, but Asher’s grip on you was impossible to ignore. His chin rested on your shoulder, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on your hip in a nonchalant display of possessiveness. It was maddeningly casual, yet unmistakably deliberate.

Meanwhile, Nex was visibly uncomfortable, his eyes darting everywhere but toward you and Asher. Beneath the bandages on his hands, you were certain his knuckles were white as he gripped the cushion tighter, clearly enduring the awkwardness and impending fear with as much dignity as he could muster.

For what felt like the hundredth time, you questioned how this once-postponed movie date for two had spiralled into such an absurd scene.

Your lover—who was seized by a fit of possessive jealousy, shamelessly embracing you just as you were about to honour your conscience, guilt-ridden decision to maintain a respectful distance in presence of his most cherished work buddy.

The estranged maknae—a recovering addict—who was valiantly holding onto his composure amidst a lovesick couple.

And you—your lover’s supposed ex-stalker—who had allegedly groomed him to become a temperamental beast in heat—were caught in the middle of this painfully bizarre situation.

It was almost too much to process for your fractured mind.

The guilt that had weighed heavily on your shoulders mere moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a suffocating wave of embarrassment—first-hand, second-hand, and every kind of hand possible.

You had anticipated something entirely different.

A serious conversation about Nex’s precarious situation, perhaps even a plan. Instead, Asher had swept it all aside in favour of this surreal bonding session.

What had gotten into him so suddenly? you wondered, shifting subtly in an attempt to wriggle free and occupy the open space beside your lover.

But before you could escape, Asher’s arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him with a grip that made it clear you weren’t going anywhere.

“Relax, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety purr against your ear. “It’s just a movie. Nothing to be afraid of.”

His tone was deceptively soothing, but the way his sly hand slipped beneath your baggy T-shirt to trace slow, deliberate patterns over your navel made your breath hitch.

You weren’t sure if his words were meant to calm you, to tease the already uncomfortable maknae—or both. Either way, the atmosphere in the room only thickened as the movie played on, the tension as palpable as the flickering light of the screen. At least The Exorcist wouldn’t be worse than your current reality.

Or so you had forgotten.

As the eerie background music built to a chilling crescendo, a sudden, heart-stopping jumpscare flashed across the screen. Nex’s timid eyes darted away instinctively, too scared to even close them, his fear of the darkness only making the terror worse. He hated being the third wheel, but his gaze flickered toward you and Asher anyway.

You were not having a great time—trembling visibly as you flinched and shrieked at every scare. At one particularly horrifying moment, you buried your face in Asher’s chest, your fists weakly pounding against his firm torso as you cursed him for putting you through such torment. “I hate you—you sadistic jerk!” you hissed, your voice muffled against his shirt.

But unlike those ‘other’ days, Asher knew not to take your words too seriously. In fact, he was chuckling softly, his smirk as insufferable as ever. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t sorry at all. His large hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he cooed blushing, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

The maknae’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than he intended, watching your feisty protest. He decided, grudgingly, that he’d rather endure the awkward spectacle of your lovey-dovey antics than keep his eyes on the nightmare fuel flashing across the screen. But before he could turn his head fully, Asher’s piercing blue eyes darted his way, sharp and deliberate. Nex flinched and immediately snapped his focus back to the screen, the gory scene making his stomach churn.

In his peripheral vision, the pink-haired male caught the faintest smirk curl on Asher’s lips, and then came the words. “See, baby,” Asher purred, loud enough for Nex to hear, his tone playful but unmistakably possessive. “You’ve got me to protect you, even from scary movies. A kiss would be a fair trade, don't you think?”

“Who knows, it might even help distract you—! Mmph-”

It was a shameless trap.

Nex knew Asher was trying to bait him into stealing another glance, but he resisted, sinking deeper into the couch as if to disappear as he became visibly flustered—the soft squelching sound of your lips and Asher’s drowning the eerie background score for his utterly bothered ears.

As much as it seemed like Asher was being possessive, the maknae knew it wasn’t insecurity driving him. His hyung didn’t feel threatened by him—not even a little.

This wasn’t about jealousy.

It was a message, one that Nex understood all too well.

This was Asher’s way of showing how much you meant to him. Not just as someone he loved, but as someone he would protect at all costs. And anyone foolish enough to harm you wouldn’t just deal with his wrath—they’d face something far worse.

It was both a warning and a demonstration to him, painted in smirks and subtle threats, as deliberate and unnerving as the horror film playing on the screen.

The suppressed anxiety churned in Nex’s chest, resurfacing with an unwelcome ferocity.

____

Though the memories of the day he allegedly overdosed were hazy, buried deep thanks to the sedative Asher had injected into him three days prior, the consequences were all too clear.

One high dose had proven too much for his fragile body, leaving him slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to fully grasp his surroundings or his predicament—only catching disjointed fragments of reality.

“Wow, you really did a number on yourself with that drug, didn’t you?”

Asher’s voice, faint and detached, cut through the fog in Nex’s mind. His bleary grey eyes fluttered open briefly, catching a blurred glimpse of the raven-haired male with his back turned, murmuring almost to himself. “What were you doing? Mixing it with cereal for breakfast when I wasn’t looking? Your immune system must be utterly fried up by now to react so sensitively to just one dose (of the medicine).”

The words stung, though Nex couldn’t fully process them. Asher’s tone was sharp, but his actions betrayed a troubling concern. The blue-eyed male sighed heavily as he bandaged Nex’s bruised hands, his motions uncharacteristically careful, almost absentminded.

“I guess it’s better I got to you before the Old Man shipped you off to some real facility,” Asher muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Nex realized that his hyung hadn’t noticed him stirring.

Deciding it was safer to feign unconsciousness, the pink-haired male closed his eyes again, letting his breathing remain shallow and even. Listening silently, he tried to ignore the strange twinge in his chest at Asher’s apparent care.

It was confusing, this softer side of his hyung.

Asher had always been sharp, caustic even, especially after starting to foil his drug dealings a year ago. Tough love—more like a sick joke in Nex’s eyes.

But now, with the disinfectant applied carefully, the bandages snugly wrapped, and his hyung’s hands uncharacteristically gentle, the maknae felt his long-held hatred waver.

That is, until Asher’s voice shifted, his tone as cold as ice.

“But I didn’t think you’d sink low enough to come for my girl,” he said, venom lacing every word. “Really? A few grams of narcotics are all you’re worth?”

Nex felt the shift in the air, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Asher’s hands stilled briefly before he yanked off the old bandages and threw them into the trash with unnecessary force. The maknae barely had time to brace himself before Asher’s hand snaked around his throat, gripping him with a firm, deliberate pressure.

“Should I just end things here?”

Asher’s icy blue eyes bore into him, his voice deathly calm. “Why waste my time trying to tame a snake that shares blood with that woman?”

For a terrifying moment, Nex thought this was it. But then, just as suddenly as the pressure came, it eased.

Asher let go, stepping back and scoffing to himself. “But that would make me the biggest hypocrite,” he muttered, his gaze unreadable as he began gathering the medical supplies.

Before leaving, Asher murmured, almost to himself, “Guess I’ll wait and see if you try to bite me again, Hyeong-je*.”

The door clicked shut, leaving Nex alone.

Hot tears trickled silently down his face as his watery grey eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling. His chest ached, tight with unprocessed trauma and pain, but disturbingly, a faint, bittersweet smile curled on his trembling lips.

How long had it been since Asher acknowledged their shared kinship—even to himself?

Never.

Asher had always refused to recognize their blood relation, keeping their shared secret buried from even the members—forget the rest of the world. And yet, here he was, risking that very old secret to protect a new one—someone Nex hadn’t even met properly yet.

Truly, it made him extremely curious and a bit envious to know more about you.

The person who had managed to thaw his hyung’s icy blues and unravel his twisted heart even if only a part.

Yet, his innocent desire was quickly nipped at its bud, a day before he officially met you.

____

“What do you mean, don’t ask anything personal?” Nex had furrowed his brows, clearly confused. “How am I supposed to get to know her? Or even talk to her?”

Asher, unbothered, had barely looked up from the papers spread across the desk in the guestroom. “Don’t talk, then. Speak when spoken to.”

The curt reply left Nex restless, clutching the blanket around him tightly.

Asher’s sharp blue eyes flicked to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Too difficult for you to follow?” he added mockingly. “Want me to help by cutting out your tongue?”

“N-No thanks,” Nex stammered, hating how easily Asher’s gaze could unnerve him. Gathering his courage, he pressed on. “Um..what if I am asked a question instead?”

For the first time, Asher’s gaze softened, a faint chuckle escaping him.

Returning his attention to the papers, he said casually, “My baby won’t. And if she does, you’ll know what to say. Just be how you usually are around others.”

The vagueness of the answer left Nex uneasy. He realized, with a sinking heart, that while Asher had dipped into their past connection to keep him in check, it was clear he wouldn’t let Nex use it to his advantage.

It was all about you.

Everything Asher was doing was for your sake alone.

Nex’s chest burned with frustration, bitterness curling around his heart like smoke.

“Why should I listen to you?” Nex finally asked, his voice low and defiant, his grey eyes hard. “You need me. I don’t.”

Cold amusement flickered in Asher’s icy blue eyes as he scoffed, studying Nex’s face with a mix of disbelief and disdain. Rising from his chair, he walked toward the bed, making the pink-haired maknae flinch and clutch the blanket closer instinctively. However, instead of making a move against him, Asher simply dropped a stack of papers onto the bed in front of Nex’s wide, timid eyes.

“Are you sure about that?” Asher arched a brow, his gaze sharp as he gestured for the youngest to look at the scattered documents.

Confusion shifted to shock as Nex scanned the papers. His breath hitched at the sight of detailed medical reports—blood tests, liver and kidney function results—with critical points highlighted in bold red. Interspersed among the reports were photos—clear portraits of familiar faces, grainy CCTV stills, and unsettling images Nex could already tell held damning evidence.

“I assume you can figure these out on your own,” Asher remarked coldly, gathering the medical reports and shoving them closer to Nex with deliberate force. “If not, let me summarize it for you.”

He pinched his fingers together, narrowing the space between them as he smirked. “You’re about this close to a full-blown liver failure. Which, in simpler terms, puts you this close to having one foot in the grave.”

Nex stared at the reports in silence, his mouth dry, unable to form a single word. His grey eyes shifted hesitantly toward Asher, who rolled his own in mock exasperation.

“What? Already losing me?” Asher sneered, the mockery in his tone biting. “And here I thought the withdrawals clearing up might help you think a little better. But hey, what do I know? It’s not like I can pump you with another dose of the sedative without sending you straight into a coma. So, bear with it, will you?”

The frustration in Asher’s voice was palpable, though it wasn’t entirely directed at Nex.

Beneath his cold exterior, an unfamiliar mix of emotions churned—regret, disappointment, and even… fear?

It wasn’t like him to care for the maknae. Contempt and indifference had always been his go-to emotions. Yet, seeing the results of Nex’s self-destruction had shaken something in him.

Not that he’d ever let it show.

The pragmatic part of Asher’s mind urged him to maintain control, to suppress the slivers of humanity threatening to surface. Perhaps, he would have to take the classic route of manipulation and blackmailing without much assistance from the medicine.

There could still be a use of a knight, even if wounded.

Meanwhile, Nex felt hot tears sting his eyes, the overwhelming weight of mortality pressing down on him. The reports painted a picture he couldn’t ignore—his recklessness had brought him to the brink. Even the faintest tremors in his hands reminded him of his withdrawal episodes, each one a stark reminder of how fragile he had become. Before he could stop himself, he reached out, his trembling fingers clutching the corner of Asher’s sleeve.

“Am I really going to die, hyung?” Nex’s voice was raw, his grey eyes glassy with desperation as tears rolled down his pale cheeks. “Please… please save me.”

For a moment, Asher’s cold mask cracked, his icy blue eyes flickering with something unnameable. Vulnerability from Nex wasn’t something he had expected, and for the briefest second, he almost wavered.

Almost.

Shrugging off Nex’s hand with practiced indifference, Asher scoffed, turning his attention back to the papers. “Are you dumb? I said close to dying—not actually dead.”

Nex flinched at the harsh dismissal, hurriedly wiping his tears and cursing himself for breaking down in front of Asher. Of all people, his hyung was the last person he wanted to see his weakness, especially when the latter seemed to revel in it. Still, there was no reprieve.

Asher wasn’t finished driving his point home.

“Now, if your own body shutting down isn’t enough to scare you,” Asher began, his tone sharp, “let me introduce you to the people who would make you wish you were dead.”

He gestured toward the photos of known drug dealers and shadowy figures. “Kingpin, Dragon Kim, Ghost Lee—ring a bell?” Asher sneered. “These are the lovely individuals—the big shots, you had been dealing with. Money in exchange for your stash. Did you honestly think these people played fair? Took me some time, but I recovered the call logs and texts they kept tucked away for insurance. One of them was already on his way to sell everything to the paparazzi before Baek intercepted him. Careless doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Nex’s gaze dropped, his fingers gripping the blanket tightly as shame bubbled beneath the surface. Asher, of course, wasn’t done.

“And this,” Asher continued, pointing to the CCTV stills. “A waitress from the club sipping one of your ‘special’ drinks. Here? That’s one of our fans sneaking into your little party. And this—,” he said with a particularly cutting scoff, flipping over a photo, “—is the masterpiece. You. Passed out in your own puke and sweat. Truly, a sight to behold.”

The image was a slap in the face. Nex stared at it, the reality of his actions crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t decide which was worse—the incriminating evidence or the icy disdain in Asher’s voice.

“You really think you don’t need me?” Asher’s voice cut through Nex’s spiralling thoughts, low and dangerous. “Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

____

As the end credits rolled, the maknae sat several shades paler, haunted by both the horror movie and flashbacks. Meanwhile, you were flushed and light-headed, having spent the entire runtime making out with Asher. The culprit himself remained full of energy, his lips still trailing over your heated neck with unrelenting passion.

You found Asher’s stamina bafflingly inconsistent.

One moment, he’d be gasping for air after begging you for the sweet torture of your tongue. The next, he’d be ravenously devouring you—over and over—until you were left in a haze of lust and exhaustion.

It had reached a point where even Nex’s awkward, wide-eyed front-row seat to your steamy session barely registered in your mind. As Asher had whispered teasingly in your ear, the maknae was the “uninvited guest” in your home, not the other way around.

So, there was no reason to be polite.

A loud growl from your stomach broke the spell, snapping you out of the trance that even Nex’s wary, pink-haired presence in your peripheral vision couldn’t shatter earlier.

Embarrassed, you bit your lip, feeling heat rush to your cheeks as Asher chuckled softly.

He pulled back, withdrawing his arms from around your waist with deliberate slowness. His proud, mischievous blue eyes met yours, twinkling with delight as he noticed the clear disappointment written all over your face.

“Looks like someone’s hungry for actual food,” he purred, running his thumb teasingly over your bottom lip before planting a chaste kiss at the corner of your mouth. His lips lingered there, savouring the undeniable hunger for him in your gaze.

Stalker, was it?

Asher would make sure you wore that faux self-accusation as a badge of pride. There was no way he’d let you sink into self-loathing when every thought you had could—and should—be consumed by him instead.

“Nex,” Asher called out, his voice carrying just enough weight to catch the maknae’s attention. His blue eyes flicked toward him as he added, “I heard you make a killer grilled cheese and brownies.”

“I do?” Nex blinked, clearly taken aback by the extent of Asher’s secret info on him. He fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie before stammering, “I-I mean, yeah…”

Asher smiled faintly, turning back to you as he casually smoothed your slightly messy hair with his fingers. “Great. I think we have everything we need, so why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

“S-Sure,” Nex replied quickly, scrambling to his feet and making a beeline for the kitchen. It was clear he was desperate for the excuse to escape his third-wheel predicament, no matter the cost.

Asher gently eased you onto the couch before standing, stretching lazily as he prepared to follow the maknae.

But before he could leave, you cupped his face, your voice low and tinged with concern as you whispered, “I know it’s not my place, but… don’t bully him too much. He already seems shaken.”

For a fleeting moment, Asher’s sharp blue eyes softened in surprise. A faint blush crept across his face, but it didn’t last. With a sly smirk, he caught your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm—a lingering, wet kiss that left you flustered and breathless.

“Fine,” he murmured, his lips curling into a devilish grin. “But I don’t like it when you’re thinking about another man while I’m right in front of you.”

With that, he licked his lips and strode toward the kitchen, leaving you a blushing mess on the couch—completely alone with your racing thoughts.

‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

*Noona (누나): elder sister; *Hyeong-sunim (형수님): sister-in-law; *Hyeong-je (형제): brother

@shadowytravelerlover

[maeve-on-mustafar]

“everything was in Anakin’s favor”

Meanwhile, Anakin:

- Lost the one adult beyond his mom who seemed to care about him.

- Forced to leave behind his mom in actual slavery until she was eventually bought by a guy so he could “marry” her. (Um . . .)

- Reluctantly accepted into the Jedi Order with the full knowledge that the Jedi Council and Obi-Wan never thought he belonged there until Qui-Gon begged them to with his dying breath.

- Had to grow up with the knowledge that he’s fundamentally different from everyone else around him and no one can relate to his early childhood trauma.

- Entered the Jedi Order much later than normal, meaning he’d have to work much harder than his classmates in schoolwork and Jedi training so he could get caught up in to where he was on par with the rest of them.

I’m just so curious. What advantages did Anakin have that Obi-Wan and the rest of the Jedi Order didn’t?

saw someone saying that everything was stacked in anakin's favour

bro. he was a literal slave for nine years. the fuck?

[storyknitter]

.

[mojaves]

got tagged by @ruvviks and @roseeway to make some ocs in this picrew [:

tagging @lestatlioncunt @ncytiri @dickytwister @velocitic aaaand whoever else would want to do this [:

elza taylor / rafe taylor delaney foster / noah talavera xavier mason / gabriel mason

[thybirbman]

Sorry but I'm gonna ignore half the post bc I read the first two paragraphs and now can't think about anything else, so you're getting me trying to logic religion instead of Tobi!Kakashi (tho I will say I saw a fic once with the Obito-Kakashi role reversal where they had it that Kakashi was pretending to be Tobirama rather than Madara bc of the hair and smarts and it even fits with the Tobi nickname! It was amazing, don't remember it tho, so sorry.)

Anyway! Here are my Hatake religion thoughts, presented as facts rather than just my headcanons bc I love writing fake facts:

The Hatake do worship multiple gods/vague spirits of the land rather than one specific god, but like a typical pantheon religion where there's a buncha gods, but then there's the one special favorite guy that's in charge of everyone, and to the Hatake, that's Kaguya. Yeah, they worship the gods of plants and harvest and whoever brings the rain, but the Hatake are wolves first, farmers second, so Kaguya, the goddess of rabbits (aka usually the first thing a young cub gets to catch on their first hunt, something something a symbol of coming into their own and becoming their own person as well as a sign of good things to come and that they'll be powerful enough to live by themselves, just lots of good meanings to the Hatake) that also resides on the moon, is their special lil gal.

The Hatake's beliefs are kind of... vague? They don't really have a set mythology, or they didn't in the beginning, because they used to be a bunch of small vaguely connected family units all over the Land of Iron just doing their thing, but they slowly got whittled down to the few that are now left. And each of those units had their own spin on things, ranging from Kaguya being their sworn enemy who was cursed into a rabbit so they could hunt her for all eternity, to more positive stories of Kaguya either always being a rabbit, inventing the concept of rabbits in the first place, or willingly transforming into a rabbit permanently to be hunted by the Hatake for all eternity as a kind of game. (aka go with whatever suits the story, you want bad Kaguya where the Hatake were systematically wiped out by Zetsu bc those fuckers were literally engineered in a fucking lab by God to be perfect Kaguya killers? Want good Kaguya where Sakumo and Kaguya get to be freaky together and have Kakashi be a half god? Whatever works for you!)

Most of them, however, end with Kaguya either returning to her home on the moon right before dawn breaks or being sealed away on the moon by mean people who don't want the Hatake to have their fun ritual hunting game. Very sad. It's a tradition to not eat the first rabbit you ever catch, and instead wait for nightfall before holding it up to the open sky and then burying the thing in the dirt under the moonlight, to show Kaguya that they still remember their old hunts and that no earth rabbit will ever be as great a catch as her. Unless you were part of those guys that didn't like Kaguya, wherein you would wait with your first ever rabbit til nightfall before absolutely ripping that thing to pieces and eating it's heart raw while glaring up at the moon. And then go pray and apologize to Tsukuyomi for glaring at them (the moon).

Back when Kakashi was a kid, Sakumo always burried any rabbits he got, which was kind of extreme when usually it's just the first rabbit you ever kill. Sakumo's only explanation was that they'd never be as good as the first rabbit he caught, and it would be an insult to that first rabbit for him to ever try another.

(Picturing shittily drawn Kakashi frowning down at a scraggly rabbit in a dirt hole thinking damn must have been one good rabbit, rabbits don't even taste that good, meanwhile in the background in full renaissance style oil paint Sakumo is just on his knees absolutely sobbing his heart out at the moon)

Concept of the Hatake, as a wolf clan, worshipping Tsukuyomi, the moon god, as their god. Alternatively: it'd be incredibly funny and ironic if you leaned into Kaguya-hime as a moon rabbit, being worshipped by a wolf clan.

I have no specific thoughts (yet) bc I also love the idea of the Hatake not worshipping any one god but instead honoring just the vague spirits of the land (leaning into them as farmers) but like. Where's my "The Hatake worship Kaguya-hime" AU where things get really awkward when it becomes clear she's kind of trying to blow up the world or whatever from her prison in the moon.

Zetsu goes to a young Kakashi or Sakumo or smthn for help with freeing his mother bc the Hatake's have worshipped her for so long, so surely they'd help

Or if you have one of those role swap Kakashi and Obito aus, add a bit of flavor to differentiate between the villain, brainwashed, Akatsuki, Madara-impersonator Obito-- with brainwashed, Akatsuki, Kaguya-hime worshipper Kakashi, helping Zetsu, potentially with full knowledge of the eye of the moon plan bc he genuinely wants to free Kaguya.

In an AU like that, maybe Zetsu would be more open with him in general too, like, they share the same genuine goal, and also potentially the love for Kaguya. So I can see Zetsu maybe opening up to him a lot more than he would if he were fr just a puppet. At the very least, they could commiserate about "poor" Kaguya hime, trapped in the moon.

I just think it'd be interesting

[o-wild-west-wind]

in my Stede Bonnet era (ignoring my responsibilities & fucking off to the waterside to sit with a cup of tea and my old sailing manual ft. my new best friend, Dryocampa rubicunda)

[birdricks]

birddaughter and morty episode please please please please youre nothing

[zukkaoru]

okay at 2am last night i had a sudden realization that after sigma touches fyodor and then falls back, there's no blood. when fyodor has used his ability in the past (in the ep with karma & ace, and then on the soldier at the end of s3) there was always blood, seemingly from the neck area. but neither the manga nor the anime seem to show any blood after sigma took fyodor's hand which means. i think they just passed out from information overload - ango said it's common when the amount of information transferred via ability is large. and fyodor might have estimated sigma would pass out, and then wake up after it was too late to save everyone, which would be far worse torture than simply dying

[loptrcoptr]

Went and saw welcome to night vale live yesterday! I don’t listen to the podcast anymore really, but I bought a ticket on a whim for nostalgia a couple months back, and I’m glad I did. I kept thinking about how cool this would’ve been for twenty-one year old me, I would’ve died to do that back in the day. It was a really fun throwback (and it hits different now that I live in Weirdass Desertville™)

I think the theme for the rest of 2023 should be “do shit/appreciate shit in 2023 that 2013 me would’ve died over having the privilege to do”

[audliminal]

Every now and again I start wonder if I'm really all wrong and I actually do have ADHD.... And then I play a video game with one of my ADHD friends and thirty minutes later I have never been more convinced that I don't have it

[cosmic-cd]

late night pokemon trainer sona thoughts

[dbphantom]

Hmmm lungs and throat pain. Don't like that.