#...how is that 'ridiculous and completely OOC'?

[imaginarianisms]

on house s.tark.

[aletheialed]

kind of. kind of want to add darklaw.

i remember almost nothing about the game she's from, and i don't even think i liked it that much, but like... she is EXACTLY my type of character... what to do.........

[xiao-come-home]

How they sleep with you - HSR Edition!

✰ Characters: Anaxa, Phainon, Mydei, Sunday, Aventurine, Boothill, Jiaoqiu.

✰ Words: 1,3k.

✰ SFW ; a tiny bit sug/gestive in aven's part.

Warnings: none, gn!reader.

A/N: first time writing for anaxa, phainon, aven and sunday. pls spare me if theyre too ooc :( i tried pensive emoji

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Anaxa:

Religiously sticks to his half of the bed and expects you to do the same as well. Be aware that if you don't behave, he'll poke you intensely with a pointer until you return to your side. It's not that he is uncomfortable with physical contact per se, but he appreciates his personal space; he's not completely heartless though, as he finishes off his day with a kiss that leaves you both breathless. What you may not expect this for the first few times is that when the sun rises ever so slowly, the professor is the one desperately clinging to you, making his lengthy battle the night prior dissipate within mere hours.

"No such things happened," Anaxa answers swiftly, "however, this does not surprise me. This isn't the first time you've devised a ridiculous statement."

You would've believed his words if Anaxa wasn't currently nuzzling into your shoulder blades, searching for your warmth.

Phainon:

If Anaxa at least attempts to keep his distance, Phainon knows nothing of sorts. He's quite shamelessly glued to you as soon as you enter your bedroom, let alone the bed itself. Though, you're not exactly sleeping as soon as you crawl under the covers - Phainon tends to have a cuddle session before finally succumbing to sleep. He wants to talk to you about his day and hear about yours - only then he's satisfied enough. Bedtime might also act as a rare, vulnerable time for Phainon, where no filter exists; he says everything that keeps him restless.

"Will you be there when I wake up?" Phainon only hopes his voice is not as broken as it is inside his head.

"Silly, of course. I'll be by your side every time you wake up." Your tender tone is enough to fade some of the somber clouds above his head.

Phainon laughs, but it comes out as bittersweet; he brings you closer and wraps his arm tightly around your side, hiding his face in your neck. He'll do everything to make it happen - even if it means fighting the fate itself.

Mydei:

The Kremnoan prince insists he doesn't require sleep, but falls victim to your puppy eyes. He makes sure you have the best quality of sheets, pajamas, and pillows; your comfort comes first to him, no matter how many times you insist that he brings you the said comfort the most, and the rest is insignificant. Mydei holds you close to his chest, playing softly with your hair to help you fall asleep - only then he's able to rest, knowing your soul is peacefully in repose. If plagued by nightmares, featherlight kisses on your eyelids wreak the foes away.

"Sleep well, my love," Mydei cradles your cheek for a moment, before adjusting himself; his lips are resting against your forehead, as he himself, begins to doze off.

You, on the other hand, watch Mydei sleep in the morning. A wide smile spreads on your face as you observe his chest fall and rise, a moment of interrupted serenity on his handsome face.

"Looking at me again?" The male questions, his deep voice dripping with honey, watching you with one eye open; perhaps not yet ready for the bright light.

"No...?"

Mydei pinches your nose lightheartedly.

"You're a bad liar."

Sunday:

Poor thing trying to break the habit. Being used to having everything in perfect state, Sunday needs a reminder that it's okay for bedsheets to have a few wrinkles here and there. He'll apologize nervously, but you can't stop him from fluffing up your pillows and readjusting the covers. He tries to stay on his half but desperately wants to stay close to you, so don't hesitate to pull him close - he'll freak out for a bit, and then slowly, but steadily give in to your touch. There's one thing you too, cannot resist - watching his innocent image crumble away in your very hands.

"Quit smushing my face against your—" Sunday's words die in his throat as you push his face further into your chest, the redness of his cheeks so bright, it could rival Himeko's scarlet hair.

"This is— this is inappropriate! How humiliating..."

You only laugh at your boyfriend's despair. Sometimes it's nice to be a villain.

"What, you're not gonna fight me? Are you chickening out?" You poke his side. He groans and bends in half for a second.

"Atrocious joke."

Be prepared for his wing accidentally hitting your face tomorrow when you kiss...

Himeko: lmfaoo robin you wont believe they actually did this *sends a video*

Aventurine:

Gambling who sleeps on the floor. You don't play that game anymore. The blonde finds great pleasure in aggravating you before sleep hits in, gambling with his own life to get a reaction out of you. He cackles mischievously if you try to suffocate him with a pillow for tickling you for at least 15 minutes prior, but even so, it's not enough for him to let you go to the dreamland, yet. By the time you're done, your bed needs to be made again and your shared panting could possibly give bystanders a very different idea...

"Aven, enough, I think my diaphragm might actually explode," a remnant of giggles still exits your mouth, unfortunately, Aventurine does not share your sentiment and snakes his arm against your belly, while kissing your neck a bit too enthusiastically.

"Stopping, now? Where's the fun in that?" His fingers play with the waistband of your pajamas, "Why not raise the stakes a bit more?" Your skin turns into goosebumps as you feel a grin painting itself on Aventurine's face against your neck.

Boothill:

Well, he doesn't sleep really, he has to get recharged with electricity to get the energy back... So there might be a problem. Hopefully, your bed is also able to support some heavy weight, since laying down with a man whose body is almost a full machine, can be quite challenging. Either way, Boothill is actually pretty excited to accompany you, even if he'll spend most of the time watching you sleep instead; he'll hum you a song to help you fall asleep, card through your hair with his hand - it's... Reminding him of the peace he used to have on his home planet. You being the only survivor besides Boothill made him much more protective than before, but seeing you sleep so blissfully curled up to him... You still trust him. That's all it matters, after so many sleepless nights you've had.

"Shh, sleep," Boothill urges you gently, pulling up the bedding to cover you further.

"I wish you could sleep with me."

Boothill chuckles, caressing your cheek with his robotic finger, "I might not sleep with ya anymore, but I'm still here. And will be, until yer sick of me."

Jiaoqiu:

This man. He wraps his whole body around you like a snake and doesn't let go until morning. If it's possible for him to entangle his tail somewhere - expect that too. If you try to escape his grasp, he'll accuse you of not loving him anymore and might bite you (in a teasing way, of course). The sly foxian tends to sneak his hands under your clothes to rest them over your bare skin; sometimes, if need be, instead of teasing you furthermore, he gives you a soothing massage before drifting off. In fact, he'd prefer to sleep bare - skin to skin, but respects it if you're not interested; not that a mere layer will stop him from being a menace.

"Jiaoqiu," you sigh, looking over your shoulder, "your tail is reaching places that the sun cannot."

"Oh, really?" His voice dripping with fake surprise, but he only adjusts his head against the pillow behind you, "A checkup is necessary in order to ensure your health is in good condition."

Despite his silvery voice and elegant words, don't be fooled - mischief is laced through the tiny gaps.

[slutla]

PRICE TAG ! | MOHAWK ! MARK X FEM READER

warnings: 18+, nsfw, ditzy! reader, modern au but he still has abnormal strength, public sex, biting, degradation, objectification (?) , exhibitionism. he’s a little ooc. sex in a dressing room. mirror sex. he pays 4 all ur stuff.

summary: you needed a dress. mark didn’t mind helping, but favors with him always came with strings, and he was already tugging on them.

an: minors ageless n blank blogs dni dni tyy, had this in drafts for like weeks finally finished it. his hype died down way 2 fast 4 my liking icl

Mark feels like a personal assistant. Not even the well-paid kind, more like the overworked, underappreciated boyfriend kind, trailing behind you with shopping bags weighing down both of his arms like decorative punishment. And the real kicker? You’re using his card to pay for almost everything.

He remembers you saying something vague like needing a “pretty dress for, like, some important event.” He tagged along because he was bored and, sure, maybe he didn’t want you wandering around alone but that was two hours and like six stores ago. Now his patience is fraying at the edges. You’re picky. Ridiculously so. Each dress gets maybe ten seconds of your attention before you toss it aside with a wrinkle of your nose and a dissatisfied sigh. Mark watches another hanger hit the reject pile, jaw tight, arms sore, and not even a thank-you in sight.

Sure, he’s got insane, abnormal strength—a couple dozen bags are basically nothing to him. But walking this long? That’s not in his usual routine.

Luck for once, seems to be on his side. Just as he starts wondering how many more racks you can possibly comb through, you suddenly light up, exclaiming something unintelligible but excited. You yank a skin-tight, black, glittery dress off the hanger like it’s the answer to all your problems and grab his arm, tugging him toward the dressing rooms like a woman on a mission.

He sighs—loud enough for you to hear it. And even if sighs don’t technically carry tone, you catch the attitude in his without missing a beat. You walk ahead of him, as usual, not even checking if he’s still following—but of course he is. Manicured fingers clutching the dress like it’s made of diamonds, strutting toward the dressing rooms like the floor was laid just for you.

And maybe it’s the angle or maybe it’s just the first time he’s paying attention, but that denim skirt you’ve got on? It’s short. Really short. With every confident step, the hem rides up just enough to show the soft curve of your ass peeking out from underneath, completely unbothered. Like you want someone to notice.

He blinks, and you come to a stop in front of the dressing rooms. They’re mostly empty—quiet, tucked away in the back of the store where no one really bothers to supervise. Usually there’s some bored retail worker hovering nearby, clipboard in hand, making sure no more than two people go in at once.

But today? No one.

Which, if you were to ask Mark, is perfectly convenient—for him, not you.

“Leave the bags there. We aren’t going to bring all of them in,” you say, already halfway through the dressing room curtain without looking back.

He huffs, annoyed and slightly bitter, but still compliant. Drops the bags with a dull thud against the wall and follows you into the dressing room like a man who’s long accepted his fate.

“D’ya think you could say please, huh?” he mutters, voice low, laced with that familiar edge.

“Don’t gotta. You’re obligated, you know? Being my boyfriend and all,” you say, tone airy, like it’s just common sense. You toss the dress over the hook and start unbuttoning your top like his attitude doesn’t even register. “And what are you obligated to do?” he says, voice rough—mean, though not really mean, but to you, it might as well be the same thing.

His eyes flicker up to yours, half-mocking, half-teasing, waiting for a reaction he already knows is coming. You’re practically bare—skin glowing under the cheap dressing room lights, body all pretty under his sight. You roll your eyes at him, dramatic as ever, and bend to slip the dress on.

The curve of your ass is right in front of him, close enough to ruin his focus. With every slight shift, it jiggles just enough to make him regret every smug comment he’s ever made today, he’d never admit that out loud though, obviously. “Here, shut up and zip the back of it up,” you say, turning your back to him like you’re giving an order, not a request. Your ass is right there, too close, too warm—and the thin scrap of fabric does absolutely nothing to help his self-control.

The proximity alone has him twitching, hard in his pants, restraint wearing thin. Instead of zipping you up, he grabs your waist and pulls you flush against him, hands rough and deliberate. His cock presses against the soft curve of your ass, firm and unmistakable.

“Mark, what ar—”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, the other gripping your hip like it’s his anchor. You look too good in the dress. It hugs every curve like it was sewn for you, glitter catching the light, the deep V-cut dipping low enough to drive him insane. Leaves nothing to the imagination—and right now, he has no imagination left. Just need. Just you. “Been giving me a rough day, babe. Take some responsibility,” he murmurs against your ear, voice low, almost amused.

You’re not even facing him, but you can feel the smirk tugging at his lips—smug, knowing, the kind that always makes you want to roll your eyes and kiss him in the same breath. He tugs his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, hard, and already dripping. The air between you feels heavier now, like the heat from his skin is melting whatever self-control he had left.

“Teasing me all day with that little skirt,” he mutters against your ear, voice thick with desire, hips grinding slow against the curve of your ass. “It’s like you wanted me to lose it.”

You shiver, whether from the cold of the room or the heat of his words, you don’t know. Maybe both.

He runs a hand down the front of the dress, rough palm dragging over the glittery fabric clinging to your stomach, down to the hem where it just barely covers you. “Walking around like that, knowing exactly what you’re ‘doin ‘n acting all innocent.”

You moan, soft and breathy—finally giving in, face flushed with heat as you arch into him without thinking. The response is immediate; he grips your waist tighter, rough hands pulling up the hem of your dress, fabric bunching around your hips. In one swift motion, your thong’s tugged to the side—no hesitation, just muscle memory at this point.

“Make it quick, ’kay?” you whisper, glancing toward the curtain with a flicker of nervous energy. There’s still a store full of people just beyond that entrance door.

Mark chuckles low, dark and amused, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder like it’s some sort of reassurance. “Yeah?” he says, lining himself up with your oozing entrance. “Don't be so loud this time.”

Mark’s grunt is a filthy rumble, breath warm against your ear as he crowds you, all hard muscle and harder cock. He slides in slow, savoring every slick grip like he’s got forever, even though you both know time’s a luxury you don’t fucking have.

You claw at the wall, dress tucked up to your tits, thong a pathetic, twisted scrap barely hanging on. His grip’s mean—fingers digging into your hips, bruising like he’s staking a claim—as he pulls out, slow, and then rams back in with a wet, obscene slap that’s gotta be echoing past the curtain. Your cheeks burn, half from shame, half from the way your cunt’s drooling ‘n gripping around him.

You bite back a whimper, but the mirror infront of you is brutal, throwing back every nasty detail: your lips slack, eyes glazed and greedy, thong ruined, slick glistening down your thighs, and Mark’s smug-as-fuck grin as he watches your pussy get bullied and pounded by his cock.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, voice cracking with need, one hand sliding down to smear your arousal over your clit, rubbing sloppy, relentless circles that make your legs shake. “Teasin’ me all day in this slutty little outfit—knew you wanted me to fuck you stupid.” He’s rough, unhinged, loving the risk of it all—the curtain’s flimsy, the store’s buzzing just outside, and he doesn’t care.

“Mark—” you whimper, voice muffled as you bite your knuckles, his cock hitting that sweet spot that has you seeing stars. He’s thick, stretching you wide, each deep thrust making your gummy, soaking walls clench greedily around him. You’re a mess, panting, barely holding it together as he fucks you like he owns you.

“Quick, huh?” he scoffs, biting your shoulder hard enough to sting, his other hand yanking your head back to force your eyes to the mirror. “Look at you, takin’ my dick like a fuckin’ whore.” His words are filthy, dripping with heat, and when you moan his name again, he grins, proudly, real ‘fuckin proud.

He likes fucking you like he’s got no self-control. your pussy is soaked, thighs sticky, his cock dripping and still pounding into you like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. doesn’t care about the noise, just keeps going—balls slapping loud against your ass, slick and messy. his grip’s rough, fingers digging in, using your hole like it’s nothing but his personal toy. doesn’t even slow down, just grunts and fucks harder like he wants to ruin you.

nails dig into your palm, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, trying not to moan like some slut in a public dressing room. He tugs you back onto him harder, pace turning sloppy. You can tell he’s close, breathing all uneven, grip bruising your hips. it doesn’t take long before he groans, low and deep, pulling out just in time to paint your ass with thick, hot spurts. careful not to mess up the dress, but messy enough to leave a stain on your skin.

“and you say i’m inconsiderate,” he mutters, voice smug as ever, still catching his breath. “didn’t even mess up your pretty little dress.”

you huff like you’re annoyed, arms crossed, eyes rolling—but you’re not fooling anyone. you liked it. too much.

“you’re still paying,” you snap, nose in the air.

he just laughs, all lazy and satisfied. “yeah, i know, pretty.”

[rosepinks-world]

𝐃𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇! | house x fem!reader

summary: in which the team won’t stop talking to house about the new doctor who operates in the morgue…in the depths of the hospital.

warnings: a lot of death talk, house flirting, possibly ooc, unspecified age gap, joke about necrophilia, a lot of medical inaccuracies

“Just got results back from pathology. Patient had tb.” Cameron announced as Chase threw the file onto the table.

“The guy died like an hour ago? They already got the results back?” Foreman asked confused yet also impressed.

Cameron nodded. “Yeah. The unit got a new doctor. She’s really good.”

“And hot.” Chase added.

Foreman and Cameron rolled their eyes and House smirked.

“Pathologists are always freaky…and not the good kind.” House mentioned.

Cameron frowned irritated. “Yeah? How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“How do you not? Come on! Someone who wants to specialise in cutting dead people open doesn’t scream freaky to you?”

Cameron looked disgusted with house whereas the two men made faces that showed they were hearing house out.

“You guys are ridiculous. And we’ve got another patient. 35 year old gentleman who is quite literally the pinnacle of health had a heart attack this morning.”

“Fun.” House sounded sarcastically. “Page me if anything interesting happens.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

House was having his normally scheduled lunch with Wilson when the freaky girl was brought up again.

“Have you met the new pathologist she’s great.”

House rolled his eyes so hard they may have gotten stuck in the back of his head. “What is with this woman? Are you having an affair with her or something?”

“You’re a real dick sometimes.”

House waved him off and took some fries off of Wilson’s plate.

“I’m not having an affair with her. She’s nice and an extremely competent doctor.”

House rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah I get it she’s amazing stop before I vomit.”

Wilson chuckled, “Oh! Cuddys looking for you. She looks pissed.”

“She always looks pissed. She really needs to get laid.”

House was seconds away from making another comment when his beeper sounded making him bid Wilson farewell and walk away as quick as he could.

He walked into the heart attack patients room and was met with Chase announcing the patients time of death a weeping wife and brother standing next to them.

“Great you killed the guy.” House sounded sarcastically.

“We didn’t even start treatment he was completely fine until-“ Cameron tried to reason.

“Until he wasn’t.” House finished.

Cameron looked sheepish and stopped talking exchanging a shared angry look with Foreman.

House made a confused look as the nurses began to prepare the body for the morgue and walked away making a visit he knew he wouldn’t enjoy.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Carefully making his way down the morgue stairs House took in the new area he was in. It was well in the depths of the hospital, no sunlight, no voices, no commotion. It was creepy yet also calming. He saw a white lab coat rush by, seeming to be the only colour in the place. He watched intently as you poured various chemicals into test tubes and expertly prepared the autopsy almost dancing between steps.

House chuckled, “The guys not even cold and you’re dancing around his corpse.”

You let out a shriek in surprise almost dropping the test tubes you were holding. You turned in the direction of the voice and were met with a man likely in his 40s propping himself up with a cane. House chuckled at your reaction not being able to help finding your widened eyes cute.

“I know I’m no Brad Pitt but I can’t be that hideous.” He joked making his way towards you off the stairs.

You laughed clutching your heart. In all honesty you found the stranger rather attractive so his self deprecation made you laugh in disbelief.

“No! You see no one ever comes down here so you just scared me.”

He nodded pointing to the body on the table. “He was my patient-“

You frowned, “Oh I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I don’t care.”

You made a confused look bewildered by the man as he made his way to the man on your table.

“What I do care about is why he had a heart attack when there was no medical explanation as to why it happened.”

You grabbed your scalpel, “I should have an answer in an hour or two. Fancy making any predictions?”

House smirked slightly, “With a guy this size he had to be taking steroids.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Well what do you think?”

“Poison.”

House made a face of disbelief. “Are you serious you think steroids is a reach but poison isn’t.”

“Wanna bet?” You asked.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Maybe it was disrespectful, betting on the cause of death of a patient but that’s what you and the mystery doctor had decided to do.

With a cool $100 on the line you began cutting into the man the doctor watching you intently as you did.

“Who are you?” You asked the him.

“Greg House.” To that you made a noise of recognition to which he questioned.

“I’ve heard a lot about you Dr House.” You said as you began to cut out parts of the organs to test.

“All good I hope.” He replied

You laughed dropping the samples into the prepared test tubes, “Yeah… not really.”

He shrugged. “Can’t please them all.”

“It doesn’t seem like you please anyone.”

You paused after thinking about the double meaning of what you just said. By the look on his face he was thinking the same thing-his next words confirming it.

“Oh. You’d be surprised.”

The two of you made eye contact as he said that you being the one to break it suddenly feeling rather hot under his gaze. You averted your eyes to the body under you, immediately remembering you were performing an autopsy and that now was not the time to flirt with the infamous Greg House.

“I’ve heard a lot about you Dr Death.”

Swirling the test tube around you raised a brow, “Like what? And Dr Death. Really?”

“Just that everyone adores you. It makes me sick.”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” You replied sarcastically sewing the patient up.

“I try to be as positive as possible.” He answered playing on the joke.

“Well Dr House the names Y/n L/n. And I’m telling you because you should know the name of the woman you owe $100 to.”

His eyes widened. “You’re lying prove it.”

You explained that the heart had very clear signs of stress typically seen on those with heart conditions and to confirm your initial theory you held up the test tube with the heart tissue sample explaining that the reaction that took place confirms the presence of poison.

He was speechless. You were really good at your job. God he hated when Wilson was right. Even worse he hated that Chase was right because Wow, you really were hot.

“Did the guy have a wife?” You asked.

“Yeah. He did.”

You shrugged, “It’s always the partner. If she’s still here I’d check if she has anything on her if I were you.”

Everything pieced together in Houses head. The hug the wife and the brother shared the crocodile looking tears the sudden death with no symptoms. House stormed back up the stairs as quick as his cane would take him and you followed hot on his tail curious to see if you were right and what would go down if you were.

The wife and the brother looked as if they had just completed the paperwork and were just leaving when House shouted at them.

“You poisoned your husband!”

You widened your eyes at his boldness. You were so fucked if you were wrong.

It took barely any provoking before the wife burst into tears admitting to the crime blaming the brother for planting the idea in her head so they could be together. Hospital security seized the two before the man could attack House and you stood in shock.

This had been the most commotion you’d seen in years. You should really get out the basement more.

House shook his head disgusted at the criminals as he walked away. “Well done Dr Death.”

You rolled your eyes following him. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Seriously? You’ve got to get out of that basement more.”

You nodded hearing him out. And he turned to the side asking a question he was dying to know.

“Why be a pathologist of all things? You a necrophiliac or something?”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you held a finger to his face to which he just smirked. Before you could say anything in return your boss interrupted.

“House!”

House stopped dead in his tracks turning around to meet Cuddy with a fake, sweet smile.

“Cuddy! New blouse? May I say it really flatters your breasts-“

Her eyes widened in anger. “Clinic. Now.”

She made eye contact with you. “I’m so sorry for him.”

You smirked. “He’ll be sorry if he doesn’t give me $100 for our bet.”

“I’ll make it up to you honey.” He winked to which you grimaced. “No I’d rather just have the $100.”

Cuddy looked disgusted by the two of you. “Please don’t tell me the two of you bet on a patient.”

House feigned outrage “Lisa! I would never do such a thing.”

Cuddy shook her head and walked away. Leaving the two of you alone.

“I wasn’t joking by the way. I can make it up to you.”

“Oh yeah? How?” You smirked.

He leaned in closer and went to speak when the two of you were interrupted.

“Viagra!”

You both furrowed your faces turning to look at the man.

“I need another dose of viagra. That stuff is great me and my wife have been at it like we used to when we were teenagers.”

You grimaced as did House. You pointed at the viagra dependant man and explained, “You see this is why I decided on pathology I know nothing about their sex lives because they’re dead.”

House nodded, “Yeah I’m starting to envy you Dr Death.”

Nonetheless House began to write the man his prescription and you took it as your cue to walk away.

“Oh! And to answer your question I can make our bet up, with dinner this Saturday.” He shouted handing the man the prescription.

You scoffed, “If that’s the case you should probably write yourself your own prescription old man.”

You smirked at House and turned on your heel walking back to the basement but you could still hear his voice from behind you.

“Is that a yes or no? L/n! You can’t leave me high and dry!”

[grimmsbride]

fashion error …. ! ₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣.

mark grayson & reader ╲ just a fashion error..

𖥔 ࣪˖ tags⠀⎯ nothing much just a stupid drabble | suggestive but not detailed | ooc mark?? | etc

𖥔 ࣪˖ author’s note⠀⎯ just a little silly something after a dreadful week of work. will hopefully be posting something good this weekend since i’m off.. hopefully..

Tears crept from your eyes, body pressing against your lover’s as your body shook with each sob that escaped you. Your hands crumpled up his clothes, breathing coming out uneven with each shuddering gasp that leapt from your throat.

In the midst of your tears, you found the strength to lift your head, blurred gaze settling upon your beloved Mark Grayson— whose entire face was a scarlet red.

“It’s not that funny..” He hissed through tight lips, eyes pinching closed the moment he heard your laughter escalate. His own body shook from your cackling, a groan escaping him shortly after.

The man allowed his eyes to open, eyes falling down to where you were currently halfway down his body, hands resting on his lower stomach where the waistband of his boxers laid.

Invincible themed boxers, to be exact.

When Mark called you over he expected a movie and cuddling, especially since you declared how tired you were from work. However after some sweet kisses and heavy petting, the hero found himself on his back, shuddering under the wispy touches of your lips as they trailed down his body.

The man had zero time to think before you were tugging his pants down, mind far too focused on the fun waiting to come.

But the moment he felt you stop moving, his heart dropped to his stomach— churning the moment Mark heard that familiar laughter he loved with his entire being.

Only to hate every single pitch of it at this exact moment.

You lifted to rest on your haunches, desperately searching for air as more laughter and rolls of tears slid down your chubby cheeks.

“Wh—what..” Wet gasps interrupted each word, hands clenching at the damned boxers on his body. “—the hell, are you wearing?!” You struggled to get the question out, tearing up even more the moment you saw the man slap his hands onto his face, covering his expression from you.

“I haven’t been able to wash clothes! Cecil has been keeping me busy—“

“Oh, baby I can tell.. I thought I said to not be in uniform around me!”

You couldn’t help but literally keel over at your own pathetic joke, falling into him and planting your face right into his toned stomach. You shook and guffawed like some witch, unaware to the little glare your boyfriend was delivering your form.

“Please, release me from this torture.”

Mark didn’t have a clue who he was calling out to; if he was even doing so at all. He just wanted this entire thing to end. The mood was broken, he was completely soft— the man wanted nothing more than to burn the boxers and go to sleep for an entire week.

Finally you were slowly calming down, (rudely) using his shirt to wipe the collection of tears on your face. With a few deep breaths you were rising once again, gaze falling onto Mark. You smiling, him not in the least impressed.

A brief silence carried with the two of you only staring at each other before you giggled softly, hands pressing against his chest as you leaned down to plant a wet kiss to his cheek, sliding your arms to wrap around his neck as more kisses ensued.

“Thank you baby, I needed the laugh.”

Mark rolled his eyes slowly, hands sliding to your waist to hold gently, relishing under the sweet affection after you practically ridiculed him for an entire thirty minutes.

“Why do I love you so much?..”

You giggled once more, hands lifting to hold his cheeks while you pressed your nose to his own.

“Who knows Invinciboy, I ask myself that all the time.”

“Please don’t start.”

[magickizu]

Phantom Contingency Plan

Crossover dp x dc. So I've got this time line in mind, for my crossover AU and this is a snippet of it. Master Post: Lost Retirement

After something happened and the Phantom-Squad (Danny, Ellie, Dan and Jazz) had to reveal themselves to the batfam, Bruce calls up Danny and tells him, now that he thought about it and in the least offensive way possible: how likely is it for the Phan-Squad to "go rogue". Danny is silent, a thought filled, contemplating silence. "... I'll come by the cave tomorrow eve at 8pm."

P.s.: sorry if the batfam becomes too much ooc, I grew up a marvel-child and just recently became invested into dc. pwq

"This is absolutely ridiculous, B!" Jason, in full Red Hood get up, was leaning against a support beam. He just can't sit right now. This idiot really just straight up decided to go and ask Danny for their weak points! Instead of going the normal route of collecting information, to expand the contingency plan alone- like it was supposed to be!

"As if any of them, who's very core is actively making them protect, save and help- literally!!- would just go against it and harm themselves with it." Why Hood was this adamant, about the Nightingales? Okay, yeah, maybe it does have something to do with him crushing on Danny, the moment he made the pits fall silent for the first time... But why the hell would he ever say that out loud!?

"It may be in their instinct, but you can never be sure what happens when that person breaks." Nightwing, who leaned on a nearby table. He talks calmly, but stern. His expression shows the hint of unease even he feels; the Nightingales have come to Gotham in an attempt to flee from someone. Someone who's set on hunting them down and hurting them, they're basically refugees. It doesn't seem 100% right, definitely. But the "what if"s are too big of a risk, none of them got any idea of what they're truly capable of.

"Bullshit..." Hood crosses his arms, looking away. His helmet is off, just the domino, so his muttering comes out as just that.

"Hood, please. Nightwing is right. As much as they want to help, you know it's for the best. Not even Constantine could think of something." Barbara sat next to Batman, as she turned to face the boys.

"Wait, what?? You can't be serious! Even Gandalf the Blond didn't know??" Nightwing looks at her incredulous. The redhead shook her head, but a slim smirk formed on her lips from the nickname.

"That doesn't excuse anything-" Hood got cut off by the notification that someone was coming in through the tunnel.

For the first time since the others came in, Batman moved from his seat at the batcomputer. He turned towards the tunnel entrance, where the roaring of a motorcycle can be heard. While Barbara and Nightwing seemed surprised, Hood could somehow, probably through his now healing core, sense it was Danny- which in turn just sent his head reeling a bit and his heart fluttering a little. Batman just checked the clock; the moment Danny brought his bike to a halt, next to Jason's, it was exactly 8:00pm, as promised. The ghost king really does keep his word, that's good to know.

Danny wasn't wearing any padding: no sturdy jeans, no leather jacket, just his usual get up and the black helmet with neon green accents. Crazy dangerous for a normal living person, but what could possibly happen? He's already dead, plus more sturdy anyway and untouchable when he wants to. Plus he's got the heightened reflexes, to use his abilities timely. ...which honestly just made his entrance, like- Wham!

Nightwing whistled impressed, "Damn dude, you're making little wing real competition, looking all cool and serious like that." He smiles, still impressed. Barbara just gave him a look that said, to keep his mind focused. In turn Nightwing answered with a look that asked, why it's only him and to look at Hood. Who in all fairness just was completely entranced by his crush looking extremely awesome, which made him incredibly hot. Well, at least until-

"Jay, stand back." Danny said, well... more like softly commanded, right as he took his helmet off, hanging it onto the handlebars. Said vigilanty did as he was told, without questioning. If it could harm Danny, it will harm him.

"Thank you, for not only your understanding, but your quick response, as well as trust to not misuse this. We really appreciate it." The Bat said in his low, serious tone. Danny nodded, giving him a similar facial expression.

"And thank you, for appreciating the afford." He grabbed two silver suitcases: one was flatter and the other looked more like a box. The moment he stepped closer to the table Nightwing was sitting on and where Hood was still standing, albeit a little off now, Hood became a little paler and suddenly feeling a bit weaker and uncomfortable. As if something underneath his skin began itching, somewhere inside. Danny's gaze shot towards him immediately, after setting them both down.

"You okay?" He asked, the concern visible in his eyes. The man's feet took him over towards Hood, the moment he was approximately 2 meters away, Danny shook and rubbed his arm. Probably to stop the same feeling Hood felt.

"I'm- ...yeah. I can handle, just uncomfortable." He chose to be honest, knowing, hearing and feeling the concern emanating from his core. But he nods, then stands himself next to the taller man.

Meanwhile Batman, Barbara and Nightwing stood themselves around the table in a half circle around the suitcases.

"The thicker case is filled with blood blossoms. Do not open that one, unless it's happening. These flowers have anti-spectral properties, they not only harm us, can occasionally break haunts and ghostly curses, they can and will kill ghosts and ghost-adjacent beings through exposure alone. Especially in that quantity." He begins to explain and Jason shifts slightly, shuffling one step away, trying not to make it obvious. Nightwing and Barbara look on in shock, even Batman has to take a deep breath.

"But aren't they just a fairytale? Constantine had mentioned them, but also said that they come from old folklore. Medieval times, when Christianity wasn't even that known. And aren't they supposed to have anti-supernatural properties?" Barbara questioned and it's true. John told Batman about them, but added that he didn't exactly know if it wasn't just some old folklore and not to put his bets on it. He knew of the infinite realms, sure. But Ghosts explicitly? Not that much..

Danny nodded. "They are as old as humanity and they have been used in countless traps and banishment rituals. It's just that..." He grabs his neck, thinking of which words to use and letting his usual self finally slip through. He's been practicing explaining things, this definitely put it to the test. "Hmmm... Okay, uhm... It was said that they have anti-supernatural properties, because quite a few ghosts were mistaken as other supernatural creatures. For example... Yetis!" He snapped his fingers, smiling proudly to himself, that he came up with it that fast.

"Yetis...?" Nightwing asked completely flabbergasted. "Pfff... Bigfoot also a ghost? Ow-" He couldn't help himself, but got a slap on his arm from Barbs, who glarred daggers at him.

"Yes and no, Bigfoot is actually a spirit of sorts, but not really. He just wants to be left alone, man. And yes, Yetis. They are ghosts of the far frozen and spirits of ice, the cold and healing. Because they're technically ghosts, they'd be affected, but they don't exactly look like your conventional, stereotypical ghost. So people just forgot about them due to monotheistic religions, because instead of blaming vengeful, violent and malevolent spirits, they became demons. Which lasted not that long after exorcisms and prayers became a thing." Danny explained.

"I see... So that's why Constantine didn't know for sure." Batman nodded. Hood got a stool and sat down a little further away- was this what kryptonite felt like to the supers? He made a mental note to never tease them about it again... In the back of his mind and in his chest, he can hear- no... Sense a chirping. It's Danny sensing Hood's tense unease. The smaller ones core calling out, //it's okay//will protect//save//. It did help a bit though and Hood's grateful for that.

"And this one?" Nightwing pointed at the slimmer suitcase, intrigued now.

"Those are regular ecto-blasters. They just shoot ecto infused lasers- completely harmless to anything living. The only thing it does is to inconvenience or harm a ghost, but they're mostly non-lethal." Batman nodded again, opening the case and inspecting the guns. "If you need more, just say so. I used to use them constantly, so I still got quite a few on the shelf." He crosses his arms, for comfort. But Hood's attention was drawn more to the 'used to use them'. Danny wheelded harmful 'mostly non-lethal' weapons for a while, so that also implies that he knows how to turn them lethal... Why?

"If that is possible, I would be most grateful." Batman said, holding eye contact with Danny, who in turn nodded.

"I'll drop them off tomorrow, then. You'll need to recharge them with both electricity and ectoplasm. Don't ever let them run low, tho or it will back fire on you. Not pretty. When you aim to stun: hit wherever besides the chest, it regenerates. But when you aim to harm and injure: aim for the core. It's, you guessed it, in the middle of the chest. Even if ghosts can regenerate, just empty the thing and keep firing; the amount of ecto we lose, is too much to heal against. Especially because we need said ecto to heal in the first place. And don't be surprised: ghosts melt. We don't turn to ashes, get sucked away to who knows. We melt into ecto." Danny answered almost immediately, stunning the birds and Oracle. But the bat only nodded, containing his own curiosity, as he closed the case and readied them to carry away.

- - - - -

"Danny! Talk?" He turns his head towards Hood; both sit on their bikes, standing next to each other. The traffic light glowing red, when the taller man calls. Then after a few seconds of silence, Danny looks around and motions for Hood to follow.

After some more explanations in the cave, on how to most effectively use each weapon and tool against his very own life and leaving the two birds as well as Oracle stunned silent, Hood decided to ride along. Since he has to go in that direction anyway, might as well ride with Danny and spend more time. As the light turns green, Danny nods and leads the way. After another 10-15 minutes of silent driving they get to a quiet viewpoint in a more abandoned area of the neighborhood. They come to a halt and the taller is the first to speak,

"Just... Just out of curiosity. How come or well, why were you so, I wouldn't say eager but, so... fast to respond? Not even the League members reacted this... How to put it, ready? Collected? Hell knows, they didn't nerd out about their weaknesses. So-"

"Jay, tell me: how much do you trust yourself?" The smaller man takes off his helmet and hangs it up on the handlebars again. Hood sighs and does similar, leaving only his domino mask on, as he leans against the railing, next to his king. He shrugs.

"I guess... talking about confidence in my skills and how to use them? Yes. Yes, I do." But the electric blues only look over the city skylines, he nods.

"No, I mean in yourself." So naturally Jayson's breath hitches, when these eyes suddenly stared into his. "Your ability to control your emotions, when the worst happens and push comes to shove." He takes a deep breath, his gaze flicking from the other up to the sky. Surprisingly it's a clear view of the stars. And again Jason decides that a) this man has so many more secrets, than he already thought and b) it just adds to his enchanting mystique and liminal beauty. Oh damn, he fell hard and deep.

"I mean... The pit-rages stopped, when we began training, but..." That's when realisation hit him. "...I don't know. No."

"...and I do know, that I won't." Jason looks at Danny almost immediately. His small, growing and healing core rumbling with //confused//what?//. Danny sighs heavily: "the last time it happened, I developed new powers again and apparently declared war to the conspiratorial wing of the government, leaving nothing but death, destruction and a crater the size of Wayne Manor's property line behind. I wasn't even at full health. I've also seen what happens, when I let my anger win and that was from a point where I was about 10 years weaker than I am today. It was a wasteland of a world, didn't even see the justice league there, so..." Danny's hands slip from the railing to hug himself, Jason just stares stunned and in shock, trying to buffer the words and sounds the other one makes. Said one smiles weakly his gaze never leaves the stars, as if they're giving him some form of comfort or answers only he can read. "...emotions are more than natural for ghosts, we're literally made by them. The will to survive, the need to protect and help or ... The boiling rage to avenge." He finally gave Jason a small glance and encouraging smile. "Really it's only natural. But that's also why I'm so hellbend on teaching you to control yourself. The more your core heals,..." He reaches out touching Jason's chest and his heart skips a beat. Gods he hopes the other doesn't notice, but he doesn't react so that's good? "The more you will feel and the harder it becomes to regulate. But... I got the feeling, you'll manage." He smiles and pats Jason's chest, then he turns back to the stars. His smile slowly fading. "...but if things happen, that'll make me lose it for good? I'd prefer to be taken out clean before another 'reign of terror' Happens."

They're silent, Jason has to process what he just heard. Danny more so as it still looks like he's listening to the stars sing, however that's possible. But hey, that's the Nightingale's ever since they showed up: anything but normal. The bigger one finally huffs, "So... You're really a big f*cking fish, huh... Your siblings that powerful too?" The other shrugs, yes and no. "Damn... Well, I definitely hope that it'll never happen. ...would absolutely suck to lose you." He glances at the other, just barely to try and get a sneak peak at him. But Danny just smiles softly, eyes closed. That's when Jason can sense the chirping from Danny's core again, //appreciate//you too//love//.

...wait. Wait, hold on!-

"Welp, was nice but I gotta go now. Jazz is probably done with dinner by now and they're waiting for me." The smaller turns to walk towards his bike, patting Jason on the shoulder and back again. "I'll see around, Red Guy. You know where to find me." He winks cheeky and puts on his helmet and like a phantom into the night, is gone. Jason still stands there...

Did he... Did he really just understand... Love? No, wait again! Danny and his siblings too always say, that ghosts are very sensitive to emotions and can read them off of- ...

...did Danny knew from the very beginning...?

[kiyofiles]

01. I Love You, And It's Getting Worse · Tom Riddle x Gn!Reader

SYNOPSIS: "he had never loved. but now there was something─someone. an unlooked-for light. a warmth that melted through the frost of his being. he had not sought it, but it had found him." ★ riddle who thought he was indifferent to emotions, riddle who thought he was above love, falls in love. (he hates it)

CONTENT: 6k+ words, soft!tom riddle, subtle sunshine x grumpy trope, happy ending, slight angst if you squint, tom riddle being vulnerable, might be ooc.

You are too loud.

Your smile is too bright. You laugh too easily. Your footsteps are too noisy when you march across the hallways of Hogwarts. You apologize too quickly. Too briefly. You are too clumsy─a fool, you trip on your feet too often. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You act as though the world is not brimming with people who would exploit witness within the first opportunity.

There is a growing disruption in his otherwise carefully crafted, quiet order. And it is you. Muggle-born, tiring, frustrating you. He swears it's not that his eyes wander, you're just too noticeable. You just command attention. You are just loud.

Tom Riddle is not looking at you.

At least that's what he told himself. At least that's what he's been telling himself all this while. His eyes flickered over his book, scanning the same sentence again for the third time─and yet, there you are again. Loud. Distracting. Impossible to ignore.

"And then─" You paused dramatically, already grinning as your friends leaned in, waiting, "─he looks me dead in the eyes and says, 'This is the worst idea you've ever had.' Which, to be fair, it was a terrible idea, but that's beside the point."

The courtyard is alive with chatter, but your voice rose above it, bright and animated as you threw yourself into yet another story. The warm afternoon sun spilled over the grass, catching in your hair as you gestured wildly, eyes sparkling in amusement.

One of your friends snorts. "Oh no."

"Oh yes," you said, nodding enthusiastically. "But obviously, I had already committed, so I couldn't back out, right? So there I am, standing on top of the desk like a complete idiot, and—"

Your words dissolved into laughter, your friends groaning and laughing with you, all of them utterly absorbed in your story.

Tom Riddle, however, is not laughing.

He repeatedly tells himself he isn't listening. That the only reason your voice keeps dragging his attention away from his book is because you are, once again, too loud. Too much.

And yet, he'd caught the details. The ridiculous scenario, the way your face lit up as you tell it, the way your hands moved as if the words alone weren't enough. It's unnatural—how easily people are drawn, how effortlessly you pull them to your world.

His fingers tightened around his book as your voice carried through the air again. "So obviously... I try to jump down before Professor Merrythought can actually see me, but in my panic, I completely misjudge the distance."

"Oh no." Giggled one of your friends.

"Oh yes." You grinned once again, "I tripped. I fell. I took Jeremy Whitmore's entire desk down with me. Ink everywhere. Books everywhere. My dignity─Gone."

Laughter erupted around you.

Tom exhaled sharply through his nose. He is not amused.

And yet—before he can stop himself, his gaze flickered toward you again. And just as he does, you turned. Tom almost gasped.

Your eyes met his, a flickering glance, bright with lingering laughter, and your smile—although not for him and instead from your conversation, knocked the breath away from Tom riddle. And he looked away instantly, jaw tight. His fingers start to fidget.

Abraxas Malfoy, lounging beside him, stated. "You are staring."

"I am not." Tom said flatly, pretending to return to his book.

Abraxas hummed slowly, bemusedly, unconvinced. "Right.... And yet, you've been eavesdropping on that entire story."

Tom's fingers curled around his book. He isn't. He wasn't. He clicked his tongue, shooting a glare at Malfoy. Malfoy shrugged.

But your laughter rang in his ears long after you'd moved on from the courtyard and back inside the castle walls.

Tom rubbed awkwardly at one of his reddened ears.

Tom Riddle was not afraid of anything.

Not of power, not of the unknown, not of people. But this─this growing, suffocating ache in his chest when you were here─oh yes, this terrified him. There was no reason for his heart to thud this hard. There was no reason for his throat to go dry when he heard you enter the classroom, or were anywhere around. There was no reason for him to feel what he did for you.

You were not special in any way. Just loud. Just annoying.

He would not call it love─no. Tom did not know how to love.

The farthest he would acknowledge was admiration.

Nothing more, nothing less. Growing up in an environment of scarcity of both rations and affections, such as the Wool's Orphanage, especially during World War II, he had learned emotions were useless. It did not help in survival. Betrayal, death, suffering; he had seen it all. Empathy made him weak, empathy made him soft. Empathy could kill him, as it did to those naive fools who reached their hands out during the war.

But anger he could shape. Impermanence he could mold. Indifference would not betray him. It would not make him weak.

Today, you sat beside him in class.

"Hey," You called out to him, your voice hushed─but Tom feigned ignorance. Was he ignoring you, or did he truly not hear you? You couldn't tell. You tried again. Nothing. Maybe he truly was ignoring you. But why? What had you done? "I said, hey." You said more firmly this time.

"Mx. (Name)." The professor said sternly. "Greetings are to be shared outside, or after class. Not while I'm in the middle of teaching." A pause. "Or would you like to teach instead?

"No." You blinked, freezing in place─before eventually nodding. "I'm sorry, professor." And he watched, from his peripheral vision, how your face twisted, that soft frown grow on your face.

His lips threatened to turn upwards. So even you could make that sort of expression, he thought. It was.... Almost endearing.

Tom cleared his throat at that thought, adjusting in his seat.

"What is it?" He spoke eventually, when the professor had gone back to teaching in full swing, explaining the characteristics of a Thestral. His voice was quiet. He spoke slowly. Calmly.

"So now you decide to start talking," You scoffed, surprised that he actually responded to you─after numerous calls, of course.

"I have no qualms if you don't want to." Tom whispered flatly, his gaze locked onto the professor, but his attention divided towards you. "Let us converse another time, then."

"No─" You whispered back frantically. Being able to converse with Tom Riddle was difficult, especially since he was almost perpetually being followed around by students, or talking to a professor. "I mean. Let's talk now." You muttered. You didn't know when else you'd be able to talk to him.

"Hmm," Tom merely hummed, waiting for you to continue.

"I, uh. I need your help with Quidditch."

A brief pause. "...Are you asking me to play Quidditch?"

"Merlins, no!" You gasped. "Do you even know how to?"

Dead silence. Tom Riddle glared at you.

The autumn air was sharp, crisp with the promise of an early winter as Tom Riddle walked beside you toward the Quidditch pitch, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his robes, expression composed as ever. It would have been a pleasant evening─had he not been forced into this ridiculous endeavor.

"You are aware this is a complete waste of my time." Tom remarked while he observed the pitch, tone polite but pointed.

"You're not even doing anything." You shot back at him, scoffing, adjusting your grip on your broom as you stepped onto the field.

"You're just standing there—" You motioned to the spot where you wanted him to be. Tom didn't move right away, lingering out of sheer pettiness and a hint of defiance. But eventually, he gave in, dragging his feet over with reluctance. "With a wand. Simple."

"Yes, but I could be standing somewhere else. Doing something of actual value. Something more intriguing." He sighed as he walked, tilting his head as if considering. He should really hold his tongue, but for some reason it proved difficult with you.

"Intriguing." You echoed. "Like what?"

"Watching paint dry, I suppose." Tom turned to you.

You snorted, shaking your head as you mounted your broom. "Very funny." You grinned at him. "And yet, here you are."

His lips almost curled imperceptibly, though the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes. Here I am."

You kicked off the ground, rising smoothly into the air. The wind tugged at your robes, cool against your skin as you tilted forward, testing your balance. Below, Tom watched with the same detached curiosity one might have when observing an experiment.

"You're far too stiff." He noted after a moment, shifting his weight slightly, ever composed. "Loosen your grip."

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, flexing your fingers before adjusting your hold. "I thought you weren't a Quidditch player."

"I'm not." Tom Riddle glanced up at you, his expression unreadable. "I simply know how things should be done."

You huffed. "Oh yeah? And where'd you learn that?"

"I read it in a book." He stated coolly.

"I read it in a book." You mimicked in a teasing voice meant to annoy him, and you could hear Tom exhaling, unamused. You ignored it, biting down your laughter and instead focusing on pushing yourself higher.

The pitch stretched out beneath you, empty and vast, the goalposts standing tall against the evening sky. It was exhilarating; this feeling of being untethered. Of being free. You circled once, adjusting to the height, letting the wind carry you as you gained confidence.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it!" You called down, enthusiastic and prideful─only for a sharp gust of wind to cut through the air suddenly. Your broom jerked violently to the side, and for a breathless moment, your body tilted too far, balance lost.

"Shit!" You yelled. Then you felt the world spin. And the sky flipped, the ground rushed up to meet you, and there was a split second of absolute terrifying weightlessness before───

"Arresto Momentum."

The spell snapped through the air with effortless precision, and your fall slowed instantly, the force of it bleeding away until you were hovering just above the ground. Your feet touched down lightly─knees slightly weak beneath you, quivering from the rush of adrenaline, but you were intact. Alive.

"Woah." You gasped, breathless. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest, and you had to hold a hand over it to make sure it didn't end up stopping. "Just...wow."

Tom lowered his wand with the same ease as if he had merely flicked dust from his robes. He regarded you with something resembling mild disapproval. "That," He said, tilting his head, "Was spectacularly incompetent. You are not made for this."

"Yeah, yeah." You exhaled sharply, still catching your breath. You flopped onto your back, staring up at the clear blue sky. "Thank you for saving my life. I'll worry about the rest on my own."

His lips twitched, not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. "It would have been unfortunate if you'd splattered all over the pitch."

"..You are aware normal people just say 'you're welcome', right?”

He hummed, unbothered, although an expression of mild amusement painted his features. He tucked his wand back into his sleeve smoothly. You studied him for a moment in silence, something flickering at the edge of your thoughts. He had done it instantly─without hesitation. Had been watching closely enough to react before the panic had even properly settled in.

"You trust too easily." He stated suddenly, eyes meeting yours.

You blinked. "What?"

"Not everyone would have caught you."

There was something strange in the way he'd said it, something measured, as if he was testing the weight of the words even as he spoke them. But you only shrugged. "But you did."

A pause. His gaze didn't waver. "Yes."

"Then that's all that matters." You shrugged.

Something shifted in the air between you─fleeting, unspoken, gone as quickly as it arrived. Then, with a slow, deliberate turn, Tom Riddle walked away from you, leaving you standing there, the wind still stirring the grass beneath your feet.

For the first time since you had met him, you had the feeling that Tom Riddle wasn't entirely sure of something. And for some reason, that thought stayed with you longer than it should have.

"─Thank you for the assist, Tom!" You called out to him suddenly, waving. "You won't have to worry about me splattering all over the pitch during the matches, I assure you that much!"

Tom Riddle was an expert when it came to managing his emotions, yet all that composure ended up toppling over when he could no longer force down his smile from, and for you.

The stadium roared.

The sky above the Quidditch pitch was a blur of gold and scarlet, banners waving wildly as the stands erupted in cheers. The energy was electric, the game stretching into its final, nerve-wracking moments. You could feel your heartbeat thrumming in your throat as you dove─wind screaming past your ears, fingers reaching─then, catch.

The Snitch writhed against your palm, wings flickering desperately, but it was too late. Your grip was firm, and the moment you held it high, the announcer's voice rang out across the pitch, deafening against the crowd's uproar.

"And that's it─It's over! House (Your House) wins!"

Teammates collided into you, hands grabbing your shoulders, voices high with celebration. Someone ruffled your hair. Someone else nearly tackled you off your broom in sheer excitement. You were laughing─breathless, the exhaustion finally settling into your limbs as you touched down on the grass. Your face was entirely red from the exercise.

And Tom Riddle's face─it was entirely red from you.

He hadn't meant to be here. He hadn't meant to watch. And yet, somehow, his feet had carried him to the edge of the pitch, away from the shouting students, away from the chaos of it all—except for you: you, glowing under the stadium lights.

You─grinning with flushed cheeks, sweat damp at your brow, panting from the thrill of the game. You─looking so unbearably alive that something twisted in his chest, something hot and unfamiliar and entirely unwelcome. Oh, this was bad.

The heat climbed up his neck before he could stop it. He clenched his jaw, forcing his expression to remain composed, but the fire was already there─burning beneath his skin, threatening to crack the carefully controlled mask he wore.

Oh, this was terrible.

Then your eyes met his all of a sudden, and for the first time in his life, Tom Riddle's breath caught in his throat, his hands quivered, his heart beat wildly in his chest and a legion of butterflies took flight in his stomach. He had refused to even acknowledge everything, the intensity of what he felt─that when he did come to terms with it, it hit him. Hard.

He turned sharply on his heel, disappearing into the crowd before you could say anything. He'd really gone and done it now.

A ridiculous, shameful reaction. It made him want to rip his heart out. How embarrassing, that he had fallen in love.

Tom Riddle sat at a table of the library, his fingers idly toying with the edge of a book, though he had yet to turn a page. He looked composed, as he always did; poised, unruffled. But you had been around him long enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his grip on the book's spine was just a touch too tight.

"You are avoiding me." You accused.

Tom didn't look up. "Don't flatter yourself. I've been occupied."

"With what?" You scoffed. "Looming dramatically in empty classrooms?"

His lips twitched, whether in amusement or irritation, you weren't sure─but when he finally deigned to glance at you, his expression was as cool as ever. "Unlike you, some of us prefer our solitude."

You let out an incredulous laugh, stepping further into the room. "Oh, right, how could I forget? Tom Riddle: the tragic, brooding genius─too important for trivial things like human interaction.”

"Clearly, you didn't forget." he murmured. "You're still here."

Your glare was instant. "Because you vanished on me! One day we were talking─we'd begun talking─we became friends!"

Ouch. Tom's fingers twitched around the book.

"And then suddenly, you're treating me like I don't exist." You threw your hands up. "Well, forgive me for being concerned."

Tom sighed, rubbing his temple slowly as if this conversation was beneath him. "You are overreacting."

"Oh, am I?" You crossed your arms tighter. "Then tell me the truth. Why have you been acting so weird?"

"I don't act." He said smoothly.

You groaned. "Merlin, you are insufferable! And cruel!"

"And yet.." Tom started flatly, tilting his head to the slightest degree, "You still insist on seeking my company."

You opened your mouth─then shut it, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity. But you weren't about to let him win.

"Maybe I just enjoy annoying you." You shot back. "Someone has to."

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. What was going on again? If it had been anybody else─anybody, he would not have been indulging them like he had been to you right now. "And yet I'm supposed to be the cruel one?"

You stared at him, and for a moment, the tension between you both shifted—less anger, more… something else. His gaze lingered on you, sharp and unreadable, and it unnerved you how often he looked at you like that. Like he was studying you, like he was trying to figure you out. As if he didn't see you as a human.

You swallowed, softening just a little. "Tom…"

His grip on the book tightened. He knew that tone.

Too gentle. Too close.

"Go back to your friends, (Name)." He said coldly.

You frowned. "What─?"

"I'm sure they've noticed your absence." His voice was even, calculated. A dismissal. "This conversation is pointless."

You stared at him, waiting, hoping he would say something else. That he would give you some indication that he didn’t mean it.

But he only looked at you; face blank, unreadable.

Fine. You stepped back, chin lifting. See if I care. "You know, for someone who acts like they don't care, you sure do spend a lot of time trying to push me away."

Something flickered across his face. Gone too fast for you to catch. You turned and left. And Tom let you go—because if he didn't, he wasn't sure he ever would.

The Great Hall was alive with chatter. The usual warmth of floating candles and enchanted ceiling casted a golden glow over the students, laughter spilling freely between bites of food. It was the kind of lively, buzzing atmosphere that Tom Riddle typically ignored.

Except tonight, he couldn't.

Because of you.

You, sitting at your usual spot, but with someone else. Some imbecile sitting far too close─laughing too easily at something you had said, leaning in just enough to make Tom's hands clench into fists beneath the table.

He wasn't listening to the conversation at his table anymore. Whatever meaningless discussion was unfolding among his peers, discussions he typically orchestrated and subtly controlled; it had faded into the background, drowned out by the sharp, unwelcome focus of his attention snapping onto you.

You were smiling. That bright, unguarded kind of smile, the one that crinkled the corners of your eyes and made your laughter sound lighter. It was the same expression you sometimes wore around him—except now, it was directed at someone else. Someone who was leaning in far too close, who was looking at you in a way that made something ugly coil in Tom's chest.

He hated it. It was disruptive.

He forced himself to just— look away, fingers drumming against the wood of the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He had no reason to care. None. You were insignificant; a distraction.

A temporary curiosity at best.

But then, laughter. Your laughter rang out again, and the grip he had on his goblet became bruising. Avery, seated beside him, must have noticed something was amiss. His voice cut through the haze of Tom's thoughts. "Something wrong?"

Tom's grip loosened, his expression smoothing into its usual calculated neutrality as he lifted his goblet and took a slow sip. But his eyes remained locked on your figure. "Not at all."

Avery followed his gaze, and a slow smirk curled onto his lips. "Ah." Tom did not acknowledge him. He didn't have to. Avery had seen enough, and that was irritating in itself.

"Interesting," Avery mused, swirling his own drink. "I wouldn't have thought you'd concern yourself with something so… trivial."

Tom set his goblet down with a quiet, measured clink. "I don't."

Avery only hummed, unconvinced. "I wouldn't doubt you."

Tom ignored him. He focused instead on the way his pulse had quickened, on the heat creeping into his skin, on the irrationality of his own reaction. He had spent years mastering control, bending everything and everyone around him to his will, ensuring that nothing touched him unless he allowed it.

And yet, you... You were still smiling. Still leaning just a little too close to that nobody. The next time your eyes wandered toward his table, purely out of habit, out of some unconscious pull─you found him already looking at you. And for the first time, that warm, golden glow of the Great Hall felt a little too hot.

Tom Riddle had been patient.

Painstakingly patient.

He had watched in silence as you smiled at someone else, listened as your laughter rang out just a little too freely, tolerated the way you let someone stand too close. He had endured it for days—months, even—telling himself it was irrelevant. That you were irrelevant. That whatever strange, nauseating irritation had taken root in him was nothing more than temporary.

But that patience had limits.

And tonight, when he saw you standing beneath the lantern-lit archway, that same insignificant fool leaning toward you, whispering something in your ear that made you laugh,

Something inside him snapped.

The footsteps came before the words. Sharp. Intentional─cutting through the night like a knife. By the time you looked up, startled, he was already standing in front of you.

The other student barely had time to react before Tom's voice sliced through the air, smooth but edged with something cold.

"Leave."

The command was quiet. Not a yell, not a demand—just one simple word, but it carried a weight that settled heavy in the air.

Your companion faltered. His mouth opened─as if to argue, but then caught the look in Tom's eyes. Something in his expression must have struck him like a physical force because he hesitated, then quickly muttered something about having to leave before retreating down the corridor in quick steps.

You blinked after them. "What the hell was that?"

Tom didn't answer. He just looked at you.

And for the first time, there was no carefully composed mask, no charming facade. His gaze was sharp, burning with something unreadable, his jaw tight, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Tell me." he said, voice low, measured─too controlled. "Do you enjoy wasting your time with him?"

Your brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Is it fun for you?" He prattled on. His voice remained smooth, but there was something fraying at the edges. "Entertaining, perhaps? Making a spectacle of yourself with people who aren't even worth your attention?"

You stared at him, incredulous. "Making a spectacle—"

"Yes." He bit out, stepping dangerously closer. The distance between you shrank. "Parading yourself around, laughing at things that aren't even clever, indulging fools who don't deserve your company-"

Your hand moved before you even thought about it.

The sharp crack echoed through the empty courtyard.

Tom's head snapped slightly to the side, his cheek stinging where your palm had met his skin. The moment stretched, electric and charged─and both of you frozen in the aftermath.

Silence. Utterly deafening silence.

Your chest was heaving, hands still trembling slightly from the force of the slap. His face remained turned, his onyx coloured hair falling over his sharp features, but you could see the tension running through him; the slight tremor of his jaw, the way his fingers curled so tightly into his robes that his knuckles paled.

And then, slowly─so slowly─he turned back to face you.

His expression was unreadable.

But his eyes.

Oh, his eyes.

Dark. Smoldering. That same unreadable emotion from before now raging behind them like a storm barely kept at bay.

You should have been afraid.

Perhaps you would have been, if your own anger hadn't drowned out every other instinct. "You arrogant, self-absorbed bastard—!" Your voice was shaking, thick with frustration. "You don't get to act like you own me, Tom!"

He didn't speak. Didn't even blink. Just watched you. The way he stood there, composed yet seething, looking at you like he expected you to understand. Like his jealousy, his possessiveness—his damned hypocrisy—was something you should just accept.

"You avoided me," You spat out. "You chose to push me away. So what─now I'm just supposed to sit around and wait for you to decide when I'm worth your attention?" You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Screw that."

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, like he was about to say something. But for once, he had no words.

And for some reason, that made your chest ache even more.

You shook your head, voice quieter now, but no less firm. "Whatever this is. Whatever game you think you're playing here: it's done. Alright? I'm over it. And you─" You hissed, jabbing at his chest. He flinched. "You better be over it too."

Tom Riddle had never apologized before.

Not once.

Not to anyone.

And yet, here he was, seeking you out.

The library was nearly empty at this hour, most students having already retired for the night. But he knew you'd be here. You always were, curled up in a chair near the farthest window, where the candlelight flickered just enough to cast everything in a warm, golden glow. And sure enough—there you were. Your back was turned to him, your head bent over a book, fingers tracing the edges. You looked peaceful. Unbothered.

It should have satisfied him. It didn't. It had become selfish─this heart of his. It desired something more than his ambitions, more than his mind commanded. He gave into his impulse. He stepped forward, and the moment you sensed his presence, your shoulders stiffened.

It had been weeks. Weeks since you last spoke to him. Since your gaze stopped lingering in his direction, since your presence no longer reached for his like a flame drawn to kindling. Weeks of gnawing silence, of absence, of something missing from his world that he could no longer ignore.

"Go away, Riddle."

The use of his last name was a deliberate wound.

He exhaled slowly. "I'd rather not."

You didn't look up, didn't acknowledge him beyond the brief flicker of tension in your hands as you turned the page. "That's unfortunate for you, then."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He had spent weeks tolerating this—this distance, this stubborn refusal to so much as acknowledge him—but he would not be dismissed again.

He took another step closer, the edge of the table brushing against his robes. "I was… unfair." The words tasted foreign in his mouth. "I let my temper get the better of me."

Your hands stilled. It was subtle, but he caught it—the brief hesitation, the sign that you were listening.

"I said things I shouldn't have." His voice remained calm, measured. "Things I didn't mean."

Now, you looked up. Your eyes met his, and for the first time in weeks, he felt something crack open inside his chest.

"And what exactly," You asked, voice carefully neutral. "Did you not mean?"

He hesitated. And that alone—that hesitation—was the closest thing to an admission he had ever given.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, and you shook your head, standing abruptly. "I don't have time for this, Tom."

He caught your wrist before you could walk away.

It wasn't forceful. Not a demand. Just… contact.

You froze. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly─ "Please."

It wasn't a word Tom Riddle used lightly. Infact, you dont think you'd ever heard him use it before at all. You stared at him, your gaze searching. And he let you look. Let you see─the tension in his jaw, the way his grip had loosened, the flicker of something vulnerable beneath the cold control he always carried.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you sighed. "You're an ass."

A beat of silence.

Then, "Yes."

Your lips twitched. You let out a breath, eyes still on him, something unreadable flickering behind them. His grip on your wrist had gone lax now, but he hadn't let go. Not yet. Not until you pulled away first. You didn't.

Instead, you slowly sat back down, gaze sharp, wary—but no longer cold. Tom watched you, carefully, as if testing the limits of this fragile moment. "You're.. not leaving?"

"You said please." You murmured, tilting your head, almost amused. "Didn't think you were capable."

His lips barely twitched. It wasn't his cocky. It wasn't calculated. It was something else. Something softer. "Neither did I."

"You're impossible."

"And yet, you tolerate me."

"Debatable." You grinned.

Tom sat down across from you. The air between you was lighter now. The tension had not fully disappeared—there was still something unfinished, something waiting to be said—but it wasn't suffocating anymore. Your cheeks coloured pink.

For a moment, you just stared at each other.

Then, finally, he spoke:

"I was jealous."

Your breath hitched. Just slightly. Just enough for him to notice.

He had never been this blunt before—never spoken so plainly about something so unbecoming of him. Tom Riddle was not the kind of man who admitted to jealousy. And yet—

"You think that's not obvious?" You said, recovering quickly, but your voice wasn't sharp. It was almost… gentle.

Something in his jaw twitched. "I am aware that my behavior was—unbecoming."

You snorted. "Unbecoming is one word for it."

His gaze moved, almost exasperated, but there was something else there too. Something that looked a lot like relief.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. "It was not my intention to.." He exhaled through his nose, as if forcing himself to continue. "..To push you away."

You watched him, curious, waiting for him to continue.

"I do not—" His fingers tapped once against the tabletop before curling into his palm. He sighed. This was difficult. "I do not always understand how to respond to… certain things."

You raised an eyebrow. "Certain things?" You repeated.

There was a long pause. Then, finally: "You."

Your heartbeat stuttered. You were sure he could hear it, because he was looking at you again—really looking. Not in frustration, not in cold calculation, but in something more open, something just shy of vulnerable.

"You." he said again, softer now. "You are a disruption."

Your lips parted slightly. You didn't know where to look. All too suddenly, you were too aware of Tom Riddle. You'd already known he was beautiful─ethereal, angelic in a morbid sort of way. His onyx hair and coffee coloured eyes, his sharp features and intense gaze.... He was nothing short of magnificent. To you, he was more of a statue, sculpted by the most divine of hands, a star, the moon─everything far away. Out of your reach.

He was intimidating.

But for him to talk like this, to choose to trust you so openly, it made him seem alive, and not like the hollow shell of a human. It made him seem human. Not anything holy. Just Tom.

"You are not predictable," he continued, almost to himself. "You are not simple. You do not react the way you should."

You swallowed. "And that bothers you?"

Tom's gaze was unwavering. "Yes."

The air was heavy again, but this time, it was different.

He was waiting. For you to say something. Anything. And for the first time in weeks, you didn't make him wait. You reached across the table, fingers brushing against his. He inhaled sharply.

"You are... horrible at this." You murmured.

Tom let out a low hum, relieved. "I'm aware."

The next time you saw him, there were flowers waiting for you.

Just there, waiting, in your usual spot by the Black Lake─where the grass dipped just before the water, where you always sat when you wanted to be alone. Except you weren't alone now.

Tom was there.

You almost stopped walking when you saw him, standing near the edge of the lake, hands clasped neatly behind his back. The flowers─deep red roses, white lilies, and a single sprig of aconite─rested carefully on the grass. Waiting.

You let out a slow breath, stepping closer. "Tom."

His gaze flickered to you immediately, sharp and assessing as always, but there was something different this time. Something careful. Something you had never seen before.

"I assume these are yours?" You crouched down slightly, running your fingers over the petals. "Aconite? Isn't that poisonous?"

"Only if misused." His voice was as smooth as ever, but there was a weight to it now, something careful in the way he spoke.

You let out a quiet huff. "Figures."

There was a pause.

Then—

"I love you."

The words were plain, stripped of all pretense, all calculation. He might as well have torn them from himself. You blinked. Slowly.

Tom Riddle did not say things he did not mean.

Your fingers tightened around the flowers. "Say that again."

His expression didn't waver, but his hands─still folded neatly behind his back─curled ever so slightly. His face remained composed but his eyes searched yours wildly. Frantically. Desperately. "I love you."

The words settled between you, quiet but undeniable.

"You—" You shook your head slightly, exhaling through your nose. "You love me?"

"Would you like me to elaborate?"

"Yes, actually." you said, breathless, because what the hell.

Tom stepped forward. Not too close. Not yet. "I had never loved before." he admitted, voice steady but quieter now, like speaking the words aloud made them real. "But then—there was you."

He seemed to be at a loss of words. This was.. new to him. He was in unchartered territory. There was a lot he wanted to say out loud. To admit. But none of them escaped his lips.

(I was meant to stand alone. That was the truth I had always known, the path I had chosen with certainty. And yet, you.)

"You were unexpected. A warmth I had never—" He stopped himself, lips pressing together briefly. "I...."

(How infuriating it was, at first, to feel your name lingering on my lips, to find myself watching you when I should have been focused elsewhere. How maddening─how dangerous it was to realize that, in the quiet hours of the night, when the world falls silent, it is you I think of. Not power, not ambition, not the future I once envisioned with ruthless clarity. But you.)

You stared at him, wide eyed. You had never seen him like this. "You are—" He exhaled sharply, rethinking his words.

(I do not know love. I never have. But if love is this—this unrelenting pull, this ache that settles in my chest, this madness that makes me want to belong to you—then perhaps I have been wrong all along.)

"You've never done this before." You observed, slightly bemused.

This side of him, one that had never been seen before, so vulnerable.. it made you feel certain things. It pulled at your heart-strings. You never thought you'd think of this─but Tom Riddle, ridiculously, seemed endearing at the present moment.

He sighed exasperatedly, as if annoyed at himself─annoyed at how he's making a fool of himself, how he's unable to get the words out right. This was not the usual him. Not the composed, cool him. You brought out layers of him he didn't know existed.

"For so long, I considered love a weakness, a foolish indulgence of lesser minds." Dilated pupils stared back at you. "I was above such things—above the whims of the heart, above the need for another." He continued. "But you have unraveled me in ways I did not think possible, in ways I did not think I would allow. You confuse me. You challenge me. You bring me joy."

Tom's fingernails dug into his palms, creating crescent half-moons. "Yes, it is true i have never done this before. Yes, it is true I have never loved. But I know this—whatever this is, (Name), whatever you have made of me—it is yours."

The breeze caressed the leaves gently. Silence pooled the atmosphere. The two of you continued to stare at each other, wordless. You made Tom feel jittery. You made him feel out of place. "Would you.. call this love? Would you accept me?"

It made your heart melt, the gentleness in his voice, the awkwardness, the softness in his expression. Everything. "Yes and yes," You whispered, your heart fluttering in your chest. "I would." You smiled. "Without a doubt."

He let out a shaky breath, one of relief. "You love me as well?"

"I do." You laughed softly. "Do you want to know what it is that I love about you?"

He nodded, almost too desperately. He slowly sat down on the grass (his knees felt wobbly and weak but wouldn't admit it if his life was on the line), and you followed suit, sitting beside him.

"You're difficult. Brooding. Cynical. Decadent. Hateful." You smiled at him. "I adore you."

Tom was silent, staring at the lake that stretched out before you. A slow flush crept up his neck. "Are you sure you love me?" He inquired. "Your reasoning doesn't seem very logical."

You giggled, and rested your head on his shoulder. His breath hitched slightly. He leaned in, letting you. "Love isn't."

@KIYOSWRLD ─── do not plagiarize, repost, retranslate.

[angelholic1]

Use me 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ ⤷ He's lazy, even during sex pairing : nagi seishiro x female reader 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ warning(s) : ooc? not edited, smut

Nagi barely lifted his head when you entered the living room.

He was sprawled out on the couch like a cat in the sun, long legs dangling off the edge, silver hair a messy tangle against the cushions, hoodie rumpled, shorts riding low on his hips. His phone lay abandoned on his chest, forgotten in favor of the blissful nothingness he seemed content to soak in.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "You’re hopeless," you said, unable to hide the fond amusement threading through your voice.

One lazy eye cracked open to look at you. Nagi didn’t even bother pretending to move.

"Walking over here's already too much work," he mumbled.

You snorted. "You're literally doing nothing."

"Exactly." A smirk tugged at his mouth. "Perfect way to spend the day."

You shook your head, pretending to be exasperated, but inside, you felt the usual pull toward him. It was ridiculous, how Nagi Seishiro could make your heart skip a beat without even trying. Without even moving.

Without thinking too hard about it, you crossed the room settling carefully on top of him, your knees straddling either side of his hips. A quiet hum of pleasure rumbled from his throat.

"Mm... that’s better," he said, voice low and pleased. His hands slid lazily up your thighs, stopping just under the hem of your shorts. His touch was light, maddeningly so, like he had all the time in the world.

You braced your hands on his chest. "You're not even gonna do anything?"

Nagi's eyelids drooped, his fingers making slow, featherlight circles against your bare skin. "Why would I? You came to me," he murmured. "Feels nice like this. Warm."

You flushed, not from embarrassment, but from the way his hands lingered, a teasing weight that made your stomach twist in anticipation.

He wasn't going to move. He was going to make you do all the work. And somehow, that was even hotter.

You leaned down, capturing his mouth in a slow, lazy kiss. He kissed you back without urgency, letting you set the pace lips soft, tongue slow and slick against yours. Every touch, every movement, was drawn out like he was savoring it.

You shifted against him, feeling the growing hardness beneath his shorts  and Nagi let out a low, lazy moan against your mouth, one that vibrated through your whole body.

"Mm... keep going," he whispered, breath hot against your lips. "Feels good."

You pulled back just enough to glare at him playfully. "You’re so lazy it’s actually impressive."

He chuckled, a deep, low sound, and let his hands fall back to the couch, surrendering completely. "Don’t wanna waste energy," he said, smirking. "Use me, baby."

God. The audacity.

But even worse, the way he said it, so casual, so shameless, made your stomach tighten with want.

You ground down against him more deliberately this time, drawing a lazy groan from his throat. His hips flexed instinctively under you, chasing the friction, but he still refused to really move, just letting you set the rhythm, letting you use him.

His eyes fluttered half-shut, his lips parting in soft pants. "Shit... Feels too good to move..."

You kissed down his jaw, his throat, his collarbone, slow, open-mouthed kisses that left his skin slick and shivering under your mouth. His heart beat wildly against your lips.

"Lazy boy," you teased in a whisper.

"Mm," he hummed, not even denying it. "Your problem now."

You smirked against his skin, then slid your hands under the hem of his hoodie, pushing it up slowly, exposing the lean muscles of his stomach, the soft heat of his skin.

He didn’t help. Of course not. He just lay there, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes.

You tugged the hoodie off eventually, throwing it to the side, and leaned back to admire him, hair messy, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide.

"So pretty," you murmured without thinking.

Nagi smiled, slow and a little smug. "I know."

You rolled your eyes and leaned down to kiss his chest, nipping gently at his skin. His abs tensed under your mouth, a quiet gasp escaping him.

You rocked your hips again, slower this time, teasing, and Nagi whimpered, low and broken. His hands finally lifted, just a little, to grip your hips loosely, guiding you with lazy rolls of his body.

"Ahh... Fuck..." he breathed. "You're killin' me..."

Good.

You slipped a hand between your bodies, sliding his shorts down low enough to free him, hard, heavy, twitching against his stomach. He didn't even help you get them off completely; he just groaned when the cool air hit his skin.

You slid your panties aside and lined yourself up with him, your body trembling with anticipation. Nagi’s head tipped back against the couch, throat bobbing as he swallowed down on his spit.

"Please..." he whispered, voice wrecked. "Just sit on it already, babe... Can't wait anymore..."

The desperation in his voice made your whole body throb. Slowly, so slowly, you sank down onto him, feeling him stretch and fill you inch by inch.

Nagi gasped, his hands gripping your hips tighter now, though he still barely moved, letting you take him, letting you sink onto him completely.

"Shit... shit..." he moaned, his voice breaking. "S'perfect... you're perfect..."

You stayed still for a moment, breathing hard, feeling him twitch inside you, so full, so deep, and Nagi whined, trying weakly to rock his hips.

"Move, please baby?" he begged, voice breathless. "Need you to..."

You smiled softly and started riding him slowly, savoring every second. Nagi’s hands slid up your back, under your shirt, clumsy and desperate. His head lolled back, his mouth open in helpless pleasure.

Every roll of your hips drew a broken sound from him and yourself soft gasps, lazy curses, breathy moans. His hands stayed on you, grounding him, but he never took control, letting you do what you wanted to him and exactly how you wanted it to be.

"You feel so good," he panted, eyes fluttering. "Fuck, you're so good..."

You leaned down to kiss him again, messy, panting kisses, your bodies moving together slow and sticky-sweet. The couch creaked under you, the air thick with heat, the lazy rhythm building higher and higher until you were both trembling.

Nagi's hands finally tightened at your waist, guiding you a little faster now, his breath stuttering.

"hmm..." he whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "Please... don't stop... need you..."

“Are you going to help me next time..? Please Sei..Can’t do everythin’ on my own.”“Hmm..maybe..”  he mumbled, voice slurred with exhaustion and bliss.

[sooohunnie]

Baby Blues

Paring: RE2!Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!reader

summary: God makes an example out of you and now you don't know what to do.

tags: fluff, established relationship, friends with benefits, f/m relationship, ficlet, RE2! Leon, reader has commitment issues, comfort

CW!!: mention of unprotected sex, pregnancy, mention of abortion, OOC?

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

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This cannot be happening.

You look down at the positive pregnancy test in your hands. There's no way.

Your luck seemed to turn in a new direction, good or bad depending on a lot of things…and you couldn’t quite decide which way it fell with this specifically.

You sigh, placing the test back down on the counter.

You wouldn’t call yourself irresponsible, not ever. You were as straight laced as a pair of officer boots down at the precinct.

The one time you let yourself do something risky and this is what pops out.

God really wants to make an example of you huh?

“How am I gonna break this to Leon?”

You can already imagine the poor rookies reaction, he’d probably faint on the spot.

…maybe you should have at least a little faith in him.

This was partly his fault! It takes two to tango.

Even if you were the one who suggested no protection…and told him not to pull out…

He’s the one who obliged your insanity.

You two had been “messing around” for the better half of a year now- It was casual…or so you wanted to keep it. It’s not like you had some sort of deep rooted commitment issues and Leon was too much of a doormat to do anything about it. That’d be ridiculous.

…

You felt bad for even insinuating that.

Deep down you knew he was keeping up this casual relationship because he wanted what you wanted. Even if he did want more. He was sweet like that- he’s so considerate and…

And this is what you give in return.

You can sulk about this later…you had to tell him.

You owe him that much.

—--------

The phone placed next to your ear rings…

How do you break news like this? Guess what? We’re pregnant?

That’d probably work…if you two were together in any way with substance.

“Hello?”

SHIT.

“Heyy Leon.” You say cooley.

“Hi.” He repeats, more warmth in his tone now.

“I was calling to…” You start, not prepared for this one bit, “Well- first I wanna make sure you're not busy..”

“Uh-”

“Cause if this is a bad time you can just hang up on me- It’d be completely fine.”

No it wouldn't??? What are you even saying???

“Uh- no- not at all.” He laughs, “I’m at home- why?”

You take a breath. Why are you nervous? That's probably a dumb question considering the weight of this all.

“So- ahem…” Why is your throat squeezing, “Leon…”

“Woah…what's wrong?” He can immediately tell your tone is off.

“I’m fine-” You start, “I guess I’m just nervous…”

You are resilient- you didn't think something like this would make you shaky…but here you are.

“You can tell me anything- you know this.” He says softly

“I'm pregnant.”

There’s a pregnant pause (lol)

“Where are you right now?” He asks, his voice shaky.

“I’m at home-”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone or can I hang up while I’m driving?” He cuts her off.

“Leon what-”

“Which one??’ He says, “Or- maybe that's too much right now- It wouldn’t be horrible to drive while on the phone right..?” You can hear the roar of his engine in the background.

Click.

Yeah you’re not risking him getting into an accident. Heightening his chance from 99% to 99.99%

—-----------

Not even nine minutes later you hear a knock on your door.

Concerning considering his place is a solid fifteen from yours…

You open it up to see, of course, Leon. He’s shaking.

“Leon-”

You start but are cut off as you're engulfed by a hug.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” He says, his voice full of love. He clears his throat, pulling away to look at you, “Ahem- if that's what you want-”

He seems a bit embarrassed about jumping right into that assumption.

“I haven’t even asked you how you feel..”

You blink, looking up at him with confusion. Why is he so happy? Why hasn’t he ghosted you already? Why doesn’t he hate you for making him put up with your casual relationship.

God why are you tearing up.

“I’m sorry.” you sniff as tears start falling down your cheeks.

“Woah…” he says moving to comfort you, “I guess that's a no on the dad thing?” He jokes.

You laugh at that, wiping your own tears.

“No..well I don’t know.” You say softly, “Look Leon, I’m sorry for dragging you through this- I know you didn’t ask for someone like me to- I don't know..I know you’ve wanted to take this whole thing further and I’ve been scared to- not because I never wanted to…”

You look down at yourself for a moment before looking back up at him, “I guess this is karma for that huh? Trading one commitment for another…massive one.”

Leon looks at you with amused confusion, “What are you on about? Are you apologizing for getting pregnant? Cause that’s a two way street.”

You sigh, “I’m apologizing for well- Holding you at arms length. I…care about you so much. I can tell that you’ve been wanting to take this further…but you never said anything for my sake.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says gently, “sure I’ve had my grievances- you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to call you my girlfriend or brag about you…but you have to realize that I wouldn’t stay unless I felt you were worth it.”

“Leon-”

“You are something to me that I can’t describe…you make me feel happy. I would’ve waited forever if I had to.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to.”

“I know.” He says softly, “But that’s just how I am.”

You sigh moving to hug him tighter.

He holds you just the same. It lasts a moment before pulling away to look at you.

“Now- how about we discuss what matters, hm?” He says, “Figure out what we’re doing with this one right here.” He says before patting your stomach.

You swat his hand gently, causing him to laugh.

[nqueso-lies]

You can tell that BoBs don't actually watch the show or watch it with their eyes closed, because why am I seeing them call Buck OOC for apparently, "not being depressed" and "keeping it together". Not only did that boy look absolutely ready to crack, especially at the funeral, especially when handling Bobby's helmet and straightening out his turnouts, but they completely miss what Bobby told Buck last episode and how Buck most likely took that to heart. It is so obvious that man is going to have an absolutely breakdown in one of the last two episodes.

I guess they expected an episode where the entire 118 is just sobbing uncontrollably? Like, idfk.

There is always that person who stays strong for the people around them in times of despair. Of course, that person is Buck in this situation. To think otherwise is ridiculous and a tad crazy.

The reason they're pissed is because they want Buck to fall apart with Eddie. But, as we can see, Buck is keeping a distance from everyone intentionally. So, when he finally breaks, it's going to be an event.

Do people not remember the conversation between Maddie and Margaret??

Margaret: "Evan seems fine."

Maddie: "Yeah I think he's better at that than we think."

Boy is struggling.

[eclipixels]

I loved ur isagi work where he was jealous that kaiser kept flirting w the reader! Do u mind making a part 3? I don’t have any ideas but ur the writer so feel free to do whatever u want :)

Snapchat

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

Content: Blurb. Kaiser adds you on snap...

Wanings: slight ooc

[791 words]

      You’re in the kitchen, the warm scent of freshly baked cookies filling the air. You hum softly to yourself as you press down on the dough, rolling it into perfect little balls. It's a quiet afternoon, just you and Isagi. He’s in the living room, sprawled on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through your phone and taking goofy pictures of himself. You don’t mind, it’s kind of cute. Honestly, you trust him enough to go through your phone. And he trusts you the same way. It’s a no-judgment zone.

      You sneak a glance at him from the kitchen, catching him mid-pose. His face is scrunched in some overly dramatic expression, and you can’t help but smile at how ridiculous he looks. "You look like an idiot," you call out, knowing he can hear you.

      "You're just jealous because I look this good," he responds without missing a beat, holding up the phone to show you his latest masterpiece.

      You chuckle, shaking your head as you continue baking. Just as you’re about to place another tray in the oven, you hear him chuckle from the other room.

      Your notification sound pings, pulling his attention. He glances down, eyebrow raised in curiosity. It’s a Snapchat request. From Kaiser. What?

      Kaiser, wants to add you? The idea sends a little pang of jealousy through him, but he quickly shakes it off. You’d probably be mad he was entertaining Kaiser at all but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know why Kaiser wanted to add you. So, he clicks “Accept,”

      A few moments later, a new snap pops up, and Isagi opens it with some hesitation. He almost chokes on his own breath when he sees what’s inside.

      It's Kaiser. Shirtless. Posing in front of a mirror, flexing his absurdly toned back muscles, a smug grin on his face as if to say, LoOk at thESe mUscLes, Y/n. AReN’t yOu iMprEsSEd?

      Isagi, now fully in his feelings, can’t help it. He’s irritated and annoyed. He takes a deep breath and, without thinking too much, snaps a picture of his middle finger. His thumb and forefinger are exaggeratedly posed, the camera angle making it look like a sarcastic, exaggerated gesture. He adds a caption. “Bitch, ain’t no one care ab your big back.”

      He hits send and watches, mouth set in a frown as he waits. But then, to his surprise, a new snap arrives from Kaiser.

      You peek at Isagi, who’s still glaring at your phone, looking more agitated than he should be. He opens the snap, and Kaiser’s reply is pure chaos. It’s another shirtless photo, but this time, he’s doing a backflip. Mid-air, looking like he’s defying gravity. He somehow finds a way to make his abs even more prominent as he flips, and the caption reads: "Nice try, Isagi, but you can’t out-muscle perfection."

      Isagi clenches his jaw, and without missing a beat, he snaps a photo of himself benchlifting more than what Kaiser can, with the caption, “Do you even lift, bro?🥱”

      It’s a showdown now.

      Kaiser’s snap arrives a few minutes later. This time, he’s holding up a protein shake and looking way too pleased with himself. The caption: "This is my breakfast, Isagi. What’s yours? Probably something weak like cereal. You couldn’t handle this shit."

      Isagi gets ready to take another snap when his eyes fall on you. He turns to you, grinning slyly despite the mess he’s in. "He started it, Y/n," he says, but you’re already holding your stomach from laughing at the absurdity of it all.

      He quickly snaps a photo of his own, showing a huge fucking steak, completely lean, sizzling on the pan. “I get my protein straight from the source.”

      Your phone buzzes as Kaiser sends one final snap.

      It’s a photo of him with a dog. A cute one, and he’s looking at the camera with a completely fake look of innocence. “Just letting you know, Isagi. I’m also a dog person. I’m every lady’s dream guy.”

      “Yeah, we can tell you’re a dog guy with the lack of pussy you get.” Isagi snaps, holding up the poor cat you guys both adopted a while ago. The poor kitty had no idea what was going on.

      He throws the phone on the couch and leans back, still laughing. “That guy is seriously a piece of work,” he says.

      You watch him for a second before grinning. Ten out of ten rage bait. "Yeah, but you kind of took the bait, didn't you?"

      He sighs dramatically and flops back, "I swear... this is so not over."

      And before you can say anything, he grabs your phone again and, without hesitation, snap a photo of both of you together.

      The caption? “Fuck yo backflips, I give backshots.”

[sammylkcho]

Hiii I love ur platonic and possessive Astro with younger!reader and that got me thinking..How about platonic and possessive Sprout with a Baby girl!reader as his sibling?? And it feels a bit silly.. but I’m allowed to be silly and you too :D!!

-✨

I like the idea, and I'd also love to get creative by imagining that baby!reader would have an appearance similar to a seed, with just one or two leaves that look like hair due to the way strawberries grow

And I took my own creative liberties when writing about Sprout, btw

Warnings/Notes: Babygirl!reader, possesive Sprout (platonic), pronuns she/her with Y/N [Reader], a bit OOC

Gardenview had never been this busy on a holiday weekend—unless there was some kind of event or pending task to be done. But this time, it was just a normal day.

Not to mention that the Toons’ Handlers rarely showed up unless it was under strict orders from Delilah or Arthur. So, naturally, all the Toons were trying to figure out what was going on or what was keeping the staff running back and forth without stopping.

Even the Mains weren’t getting any attention! And considering they were usually the Handlers' top priority, everyone was equally surprised.

"Dandy, are you sure Devan didn’t mention anything?" Poppy asked, resting her face in the palm of her hands, clearly curious and anxious to know what was happening outside.

"Ah… Poppy, I’m going to give you the same answer I gave you the last ten times: no." Dandy replied, flipping through drawings that various kids had made during their visits to Gardenview and left behind.

"Nothing bad happened, right? Delilah rarely meets with our Handlers…"

"Stop worrying that music box of yours, Boxten! I already told you everything’s going to be fine!"

Poppy tried to reassure Boxten, hoping to keep him from spiraling into an anxious, worry-filled state.

The atmosphere was starting to grow tense as everyone began coming up with their own theories and speculations about what could be happening. The fact that no one knew anything, and that it was all so sudden—even for the Mains—was far too strange.

"Uuuuh… What dumb designs, looks like a radish."

"Yeah, a really ugly and dumb radish."

"Oh man, they look so ridiculous with those little flowers around them!"

Suddenly, not-so-discreet murmurs and laughter from Gigi and Connie started echoing louder through the room, causing all the Toons to go silent just to hear what they were talking about. Not only did it spark curiosity about their conversation, but also about whatever it was they were laughing at.

Vee, who had been standing with Shelly and Sprout just moments ago, walked over to the two Toons with a deep frown, filled with suspicion over whatever they were scheming.

"Ahem. Do you two plan on showing us what you’ve got?" Vee demanded, crossing her arms as her gaze flicked between Gigi and Connie.

A brief silence settled between them as they exchanged glances, before Connie sighed and Gigi pouted slightly, reluctantly revealing the papers they had been holding.

"Let’s just say I took a little stroll through Delilah’s office while they were busy and found… this." Connie explained with a teasing lilt, barely holding back a laugh at Vee’s deepening frown upon realizing she had been snooping around in Delilah’s office.

Vee immediately started scolding Connie, yelling at her about how she shouldn’t be digging through the founders’ (their creators’) belongings, since it was strictly forbidden. Not to mention—it was also stealing. She also blamed Gigi, accusing her of plotting to rummage through Delilah and Arthur’s things while all of this was going on.

While that whole scene was unfolding, Sprout noticed a sheet of paper that Connie had set aside while reluctantly enduring Vee’s scolding. Curious, he moved closer, picking it up to examine it in more detail.

The details on the page left him completely stunned—no, more than stunned.

In the upper left corner, the name Y/N Seedly was written. Meanwhile, the center of the page was filled with designs of this Y/N, depicting a rather childlike appearance. The design closely resembled a growing plant, with its greenish tones and the tiny leaves that barely looked like hair. Below that, Delilah and Arthur’s signatures were present, along with a couple of extra notes marked as "to be added" or simply labeled as "notes" about Y/N.

“She doesn’t look any older than Toodles… She actually seems smaller than that ‘Y/N.’ I’d even say the kids who visit Gardenview are older than this one, and Gardenview accepts kids as young as five…”

Rodger’s sudden voice snapped Sprout out of his thoughts, making him aware of the growing warmth he was feeling—and the countless eyes now locked onto the paper he was holding.

“Wha- WHY ARE YOU ALL STANDING BEHIND ME?” Sprout exclaimed sharply, only just realizing the sheer number of curious Toons gathered behind and beside him, all trying to get a look at what he had in his hands.

Rodger continued mumbling possible conclusions based on the most logical explanations, but Sprout wasn’t paying attention anymore. His focus was entirely on the name written on the page.

Why did they have his last name? Were they supposed to be related in some way, or was it just a coincidence—?

“Alright, that’s enough chattering, everyone. We’ve got a new friend! But hush, okay?”

A new voice—one that was very well-known among them—rang out, immediately quieting all the murmurs and scattered conversations as the Toons turned their attention toward Devan.

Sam entered the room, cradling a small bundle wrapped in a soft red blanket with white polka dots. From the gentle rise and fall of the bundle, it was clear that he was holding someone.

Sprout was the first to step forward, moving toward his Handler to get a closer look at what he was keeping so carefully hidden. He already had a slight suspicion about what—or who—it was.

Sam knelt down to Sprout’s height, gently bringing the tiny figure closer. Nestled within the soft cotton blanket was a small being, peacefully asleep.

“Hey, looks like you finally have a family of your own,” Sam murmured, offering Sprout a soft smile. “Meet Y/N Seedly—your new sister.”

He spoke the last part in a quieter voice, knowing that Sprout didn’t like hearing his last name spoken aloud, especially in front of everyone.

“Uh… Am I holding her right?” Sprout asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he carefully adjusted his grip, unsure of how to properly carry his new little sister.

“Perfect. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

Sam stood up, ready to share the news with the rest of the Toons. Meanwhile, the Mains gathered around Sprout, peeking curiously from the sides but careful not to disrupt the little moment he was having.

Sprout’s tail began wagging from side to side as he gazed down at his new sister, like something straight out of a fairy tale. That settled it—he would take very good care of her. Nothing was going to happen to her, not on his watch. He was going to be the best big brother in the entire world.

Slowly, he reached out and gently touched the tiny leaves sprouting from her head—soft, pale green, not yet fully grown. The same went for the small tail she had, barely visible and still too underdeveloped for any properly sized leaves to form.

Carefully, he pulled her closer to his chest, making sure not to wake her and disturb her dreams. That protective feeling inside him only grew stronger. He had to keep her safe. Nothing—not even the smallest harm—was going to touch his little sister.

[beaucate]

🍊🏄🏽🎇FLIPPED !

pairing. pogue!reader x bsf brother!rafe cameron. cw. angst (like so much of it), hurt/comfort, yearning men, exceeding fluff, grovelling, mean!reaf, ooc!rafe, redemption for both!! suggestive / smut. this is not just a series, it’s hc’s blurbs etc :)

series summary. — completely inspired by the movie flipped & how to disappear by lana.

rafe cameron was always just out of your reach — your best friend’s older brother. a kook prince with a streak mean enough to make you all teary eyed, and a heavy chip taunting him on his shoulder.

he’d never looked twice your way when you were kids. you were just sarah’s poor pogue best friend, a delusional girl with an even more ridiculous crush.

so you’d told yourself you were over it. over him and his contempt towards you. but months have passed, and things aren’t so simple around the both of you anymore. because rafe is no longer looking at you with indifference or hatred behind the blue’s of his eyes — he’s watching, waiting; like he’s searching for something in you, like he’s hoping you’ll see it too. and the scariest part? it feels like he’s the one chasing you now.

. part one.

a/n. im so so excited for this omg!! just wanted to get the idea out of my head, but I’ve literally been thinking about this since early 2024 😭. i don’t have much rafe followers yet but im v. willing to make a taglist !!

[beloveddawn-blog]

Call Out Doom! Aika Has a Sleepover!

Fandom: Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl

Rating: PG for swearing

Summary: Akia and Zira have a sleepover. Evil has other ideas.

Word Count: 2500

Notes: This is for @kianamaiart's amazing new project! The idea came from @shroudtailor in an ask. Sorry for stealing it, but I just fell in love with the idea. Also this might be wildly OOC considering the pilot isn't out yet, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

“You could tell me how accurate it is! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

No, that would be the last thing I’d find ‘fun’ Aika thought, but when faced with Zira’s excitement all that she could actually say was, “Sure. Does Thursday work for you? We’ve got a Pro-D day on Friday so we’ll have some extra time.”

“That would be awesome!” Zira cried, vibrating with excitement. “I just gotta check with my Mom, okay? I’ll get back to you by the end of the day! She doesn’t answer my texts at work.”

Aika did her best to hide her wince at that. It was going to be a loooooooong weekend.

*

19:00

Zira’s house

“Thanks so much for coming, Aika! I hope you don’t mind that we’re watching it in the basement. It’s all set up for Dad to have his football buddies over, so at least it’s comfortable. It’s a bit away from the bathroom and kitchen, but we’ll have privacy. If we were in the living room Mom and Dad would be… well… they phrase it as it’s my house and I can go where I want and I guess they aren’t wrong but also, like, I don’t wanna hang out with them today? They’re my parents, they’re embarrassing, and they don’t even like Moon Sailor so I don’t know why they’d wanna watch anyway…” 

“Sound like my kinda people.” Aika muttered under her breath as she followed Zira down the stairs.

“What was that?” Zira asked, turning almost completely around on the stairs in a way that made Aika reflexively reach for them, her training shining through like it always did.

“I said it’s their loss.” She fibbed, basking in the way Zira’s face lit up at that.

“It is.” They agreed. “But that’s okay. I can share it with you now!”

Aika melted at that, her trepidations about the plan leaving her as her resolve hardened. It was just an anime. She reminded herself. If Zira likes it this much, how bad can it really be?

*

19:23

Zira’s House

“Don’t touch that cat!” Aika yelled at the screen, stuffing popcorn in her mouth. “That cat is bad news! Walk on by, girlie!”

“That would make for a very short show.” Zira replied wryly, sitting primly on the edge of the couch to avoid Aika’s animated limbs.

“It would make for a very happy show.” Aika insisted, inspecting her next handful of popcorn critically. Zira had no idea what she was looking for, but it appeared she found it as she stuffed that one in her mouth as well.

“Then it would just be a show about her failing her math test. Who’d watch that?”

“Excuse you, Azumanga Daioh is amazing.”

*

20:52

Zira’s House

“Dooooooooooon’t. Don’t do that. Just don’t.” Aika was hiding behind her hands like she was expecting a jumpscare. Zira shifted towards her in concern. The mist and the computers were a little creepy, but this still wasn’t really a scary episode. For someone who fought for real at times, Aika was being a bit of a baby about this.

“Don’t just declare her your friend, you only just met her.” She continued, her voice so soft Zira had to strain to hear it. The main girl embraced her new teammate, and Aika hid behind her hands with a squeak.

You’d have thought it was Jason with his chainsaw, the way she was acting.

*

22:22

Zira’s House

“Have you ever been on a cruise ship?” Zira asked, curious about the way Aika was scoffing.

“No. But do you hear those two? Ridiculous! She should have taken her night off and let her so-called friends deal with this nonsense. A long bubble bath would be way better than fighting a sea monster, and they said they didn’t want her there!”

*

22:45

Zira’s House

“Wait, they actually have character deaths in this show? I thought it was for kids!”

“... He’s a bad guy.”

“Still.”

*

00:39

Zira’s House

“She’s so stupid. So stupid. Why is everyone so stupid?”

“She’s in love.” Zira replied softly, taking some offence at Aika’s sarcasm for the first time.

“She’s still better than that. She can’t be making mistakes like this. Not this late in the game. Not with this much riding on them… And not when it’s so obviously a trap. Be honest, Zira, don’t you think you’d hesitate on the One True Love thing if it turned out they were flirting with every girl in town? Don’t you think she deserves better than a love like that?”

Zira paused, then nodded. It caused Aika to tug slightly on their hair from where she was styling it into two buns (“So we’ll match!). Aika let go then, and her voice dropped even softer. “She deserves her own future. Not just what everyone says fate has in store for her.

Zira didn’t know how to answer that, so she just laid her head on Aika’s knee in comfort.

*

03;17

Zira’s House

“Zira… I’m sorry to say this but I need to go to sleep.” Aika had curled up against the arm of the sofa almost two episodes ago, and now she was starting to do that jerk-startle thing that made it clear sleep was imminent.

Zira pouted. They couldn’t help it! This had been… This had been nice, even if Aika did take everything the characters did a bit personally. Halfway through the second villain arc she’d actually developed some sort of rubric and was giving all of the main characters scores like they were figure skaters and Zira had laughed so hard at some of her commentary that their sides still hurt.

They just… Didn’t want this to end.

Aika jerked awake again and Zira nodded, acknowledging that her friend-they were friends-was at the end of her rope.

“Alright. Pop up for a moment. The couch pulls out.”

Aika groaned dramatically and flopped herself over the arm of the sofa, landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Zira couldn’t help smirking at that, especially since it was so obviously on purpose. “‘S all yours.” She slurred with a slight wave. “Have at.”

Zira laughed again, then quickly set up the bed. As fast as it had been, Aika had still almost passed out on the floor. Zira had needed to help her up and tuck her in.

“Not much of a teenager sleepover.” She teased, though truth be told all of their information on sleepovers was theoretical. “I thought we’d aim for sunrise.”

Aika snorted. “Past m’bedtime. By… lotttttttttt… Hoshi g’n’a fight ‘bout it. “Mind me a… smother…” The last word trailed off in a soft exhale as she passed fully out, a surprisingly loud snore her next noise.

Zira tamped down on the wild urge to coo about it and instead got herself into the other side of the bed. They’d switched to pjs shortly after midnight with this in mind. And, as much fun as it was to tease Aika, she was also fading fast.

Between one breath and the next, darkness came.

*

06:23

Zira’s House

“Hmmm? Whazzat?” Zira muttered, a strange noise pulling them from sleep.

“Don’t worry about it.” A soft, familiar voice replied and Zira smiled. “It’s just the star shard.”

Zira hummed and fell back asleep.

*

10:03

Zira’s House

Zira was awoken suddenly by a loud thump. She shot up in alarm, only to blink dazedly at Aika. Aika, who was wearing her work uniform. Aika, who was staring at the floor in confusion as she tried to figure out why she was lying on it.

Zira blinked and went with the obvious question. “Are you alright?”

Aika turned her gaze up, then grinned when she saw Zira. “Oh good. Right basement this time.”

Zira turned that over in her mind for a moment before disregarding it. That wasn’t a question they needed answered right now.

“Do you need a hand?”

Aika waved her own around. “Got TWO!” She proudly announced, followed by a pitiful, “Owwwwwwie,” as she brained herself with her own staff.

“Have you been…” Zira hesitated, not quite knowing how to phrase this. “Out?”

“Growth ray got tested on a Chiuaua.” She confirmed, flopping down onto the floor. “Didn’t want to hurt the dude, ‘s not his fault, but the downtown was a mess. During rush hour too!”

Zira nodded, not quite sure how else to acknowledge that. “So… you definitely need a nap. Did you want breakfast first? Mom got this whole Dutch… thing for us to have. There’s bread and like four types of cheese and these weird chocolate sprinkles. Her uni roommate used to feed it to her on the weekend.”

Aika shook her head petulantly. “Nooooooooo. We had a… a plan. To watch the thing. Your thing. With the magic girls. I’m fine. I’ve had like… four redbulls. They’ll kick in in a moment.”

“Aika… You’re in no shape to watch Moon Sailor right now. You won’t even be able to pay attention.” They got out of bed and stretched. “Besides, I’m hungry. I’m gonna go grab us breakfast, kay? Just wait here.”

Aika gave her a thumbs up and a grin that held just an edge of mania to it as Zira passed… and was expectedly asleep on the floor upon return. Zira shook her head and hoisted her friend back onto the bed. Aika’s transformation had faded as soon as her conscience did, and Zira made sure to place the star shard carefully on the side table where Aika could see it as soon as she woke up.

It was precious, after all. It was what allowed Aika to transform.

*

15:37

Corner Store Near Zira’s House

“I’ve told you like a dozen times that you don’t need to apologize.” Zira insisted, snagging some gummy worms off the display. “Now pick a candy so we can go look at whatever dubious cheeses they have paired with the pepperoni over there.”

“For now.” Aika replied glumly. She perked up afterwards, but Zira could tell it was just a mask. Those words turned themselves over and over in her mind, but she put that away as well.

For now she would honour Aika’s unspoken plea and match her energy. They still had a whole weekend together. There was no sense in ruining it now.

*

16:53

Zira’s House

“Don’t eat too many of those pep ‘n’ cheds.” Zira warned. “Dad’s doing a BBQ tonight. You’re gonna want room for burgers.”

Aika stared critically at the snack in her hand, completely ignoring the show in the background. “I’m not sure if I’m tasting the cheese or just the spices from the pepperoni. I’ll have to give Monterey Jack another try some other time, I think.”

“Sounds like a plan.” They replied, tuning back in to the show just in time to watch two of the heroes make utter fools of themselves in front of a guy who already had a girlfriend. She winced. Aika probably had the better idea.

*

21:33

Zira’s House

“Thanks for being such a good sport about that.” Zira commented softly, eyes boring holes into the second fake male lead in as many days. “They… ah… have been worried. About the no friends thing. So they’re… A bit overdoing it. Thanks for not making it weird.”

Aika laughed, followed by one of the groans she’d been periodically letting out since her fourth burger. It had not stopped her from having a fifth. “Dude, don’t even worry about it. Your Mom brought seven types of cheese home with her. Seven. Then made a cheese platter while your Dad was cooking! I’m just glad I didn’t make it weird myself by asking to be adopted on the spot!”

Zira laughed at that, ignoring how weird an adoption would make… things. “I’m pretty sure you’d want to go home eventually. Their overwhelming parentness really starts to grate after a few days.”

Aika hummed, sounding unconvinced. “Why do people keep falling for the fake dude? Can’t any of these airheads tell it isn’t him?”

Zira let herself be distracted, as ready as Aika to drop the subject.

*

21:43

Zira’s House

“He fell for the fake too?? Never mind, those dumbasses deserve each other!”

*

23:58

Zira’s House

“They enrolled in Princess school?!? How do they keep getting dumber every episode? That’s it, they all fail this episode. All of them. And what sort of Finishing School teaches frisbee anyway??”

*

02:07

Zira’s House

“SHIT! Shit, don’t panic!” Aika sprang from the couch in a manner that completely belied the way she had been dozing mere seconds previous. Her star shard was pulsing and vibrating in a way she knew very well, but had been hoping wouldn’t happen for at least a few days (forever).

“Again?” Zira asked, and Aika flinched at the implied criticism in the question.

“Sorry.” She replied, staring down at her most hated possession and wishing it to the depths of the ocean. “I’m really sorry. I know we’re on the finale now and the timing is terrible…”

“Fuck the timing.” Zira replied with fervor. “Aika, you’ve had like nine hours of sleep across the last three days. You can’t go out now!”

Aika gave her a grin, but there was too much darkness in it to lighten anything. “That’s just how it is, Zira. I don’t get movie nights, I don’t get family meals, heck I don’t even get birthdays off. I’ve snuck out of both of the last Christmases. Even most on-call jobs you can schedule some important time off, but not here.  I have to answer, so I’m never going to get to have anything that’s mine again. That’s what being a Magical Girl means. We just saw two of them die, and it’s supposed to be sad but I was jealous. They don’t have to answer the call anymore.”

That was entirely too heavy for Zira to manage at this time of night, so instead she just said the first thing that came to mind. “There’s four more seasons. They come back.”

“OF COURSE THEY FUCKING DO!!!”

*

03:15

Zira’s House

Aika was fairly certain this was the right basement and she wasn’t going to have any more incredibly awkward encounters. She was proven right when she was Zira, still waiting up for her, and she smiled.

“Sorry ‘bout… that.” She said, covering a giant yawn that appeared in the middle. “I was as quick as I could be. Let’s finish off this finale.”

Zira eyed her critically, then shook her head. Aika felt her heart drop to her feet. One more who can’t take it…” She thought, but was surprised when Zira just came over to wrap her in a blanket and hand her a cup of milk. She blinked at it, caught totally off guard.

“The internet said the fight was over.” Zira admitted, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “So I got you some milk. We’ll watch the finale tomorrow. For now, I think we could both use some sleep.”

Zira led her towards the bed, and Aika followed in a complete daze. She wasn’t sure yet if this was the first step to acceptance or leaving… but for now she’d take it. She’d take it.

For some reason her teammates had never been as lonely as she was.

She felt asleep with the warmth of a friend beside her, and her last thought was maybe I don’t have to be any more.

She’d forget it before she woke.

[majinael]

DEFENDING HIS EGO

"But seriously, that Kaiser guy is way too arrogant. I can't stand him. I don’t get how anyone can be friends with a guy like that."

The words cut through the chatter in the cafeteria as I sat with a few of my teammates and their friends. My ears perked up, and I couldn’t help but glance at the speaker like he’d just declared the sky green.

"If I were a player like him, I'd probably act the same way, to be honest," I replied, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.

I hadn’t planned to engage, but the comment was too ridiculous to ignore. My response made him pause, glancing around at his friends for backup before shooting back with a sneer.

"Oho, does someone have a little crush? Should I remind you he doesn’t even know you? And if he did, he’d probably treat you like his little lapdog… what’s his name again? Ness, right?"

My jaw clenched. I’d spoken to Kaiser before—briefly, as a novice trainer—but it wasn’t the nightmare everyone made it out to be. Few had the chance to interact with Bastard München’s ace, so how would they know? What really got under my skin wasn’t the trash talk—it was the insecurity practically dripping from his words.

"Alright, on that note, I’ll leave you to your mocking and shit-talking better players. Maybe that’s the secret formula for you to finally score something."

I stood up and left quietly, knowing any further discussion was a waste of breath. With guys like that, the conversation would only circle back to their egos.

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Later that day, I found myself in the nursery, discussing recovery with a nurse about a player I was supposed to train. He’d injured himself during a match, and we were listing through what to avoid. As I exited, someone familiar slipped into the room behind me. I didn’t get a chance to see who it was before the door closed.

Turning back down the corridor, I stopped short. Standing in front of me, as unmistakable as ever, was Bastard München’s Number 10.

Kaiser.

It was rare to see him wandering these parts of the facility. I could only assume whoever had entered the nursery was connected to him somehow.

"Unusual of you to wander around these boring corridors, Kaiser," I said casually, my gaze flicking to his face. His cold expression softened slightly, though his cocky smile didn’t fade.

"Sometimes they’re not so boring," he replied with a shrug.

"Oh? How so?" I asked, looking around theatrically, searching for whatever "interesting" thing he was referring to. When I looked back at him, I caught him pointing at me, and my brows furrowed in confusion.

Before I could say anything, he reached out, placing a hand on my head and ruffling my hair.

"I can’t lie—defending me like that earlier? Didn’t expect it. I surely didn’t know you cared so much," he said softly, though the teasing undertone was unmistakable.

My face betrayed me instantly. My ears burned, and my cheeks flushed hot.

He overheard that? Does he think I’m some kind of fangirl now?

"I-I... If it were any other good player, I’d have said the same!" I stammered, trying to regain some composure. But I didn’t move away as his hand slid down to my chin, his fingers brushing my cheek. The touch only deepened my embarrassment, my cheeks now practically glowing.

"Denial... how cute," he said, his voice low and almost amused. "But I never said I hated having a little fangirl."

There it was.

With a smirk, he let go and walked past me, heading into the nursery, likely to check on whoever had summoned him here in the first place. I was left standing alone in the empty corridor, completely flustered, already overthinking our next interaction.

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HIIIII ! This is my first fanfiction on this blog, very short and simple but I think a very good training to not get Kaiser OOC, I'll try my best to keep it up, aswell as I'll try being as gender neutral as possible in the future (if possible) but for this one I really wanted to use the term either fangirl/fanboy, the term sounds so ridiculous and it definitely is something Kaiser would say imo. I hope you can still dive into this short fan fiction by replacing the word for whatever works for you. Byyye <3