#The Complete High School Study Guide

[danielleurbansblog]

Review: Everything You Need to Know to Ace Pre-Algebra and Algebra I

Synopsis: Millions and millions of BIG FAT NOTEBOOKS sold! Pre-Algebra & Algebra 1? No Problem! The BIG FAT NOTEBOOK covers everything you need to know during a year of Pre-Algebra and Algebra 1 class, breaking down one big fat subject into accessible units. The number system, ratios, and proportions, scientific notation, introduction and equations, functions, graphing a line, square roots and…

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ Just for Practice

Caleb x fem!reader Thank you @erensfeed for the idea and all the help she gave me!! Tysm nunnie! Hope this is a nice surprise for when you wake up <3 warnings: suggestive topics, mature, kissing (of course)

"Kissing? That’s what got you so worked up? Kissing is why you haven’t been eating my braised pork?" Caleb's lilac eyes fix on you like you’re crazy, a hint of something darker lurking beneath as he frowns.

"Ugh, I told you you wouldn’t get it." you groan, flopping onto your bed in frustration and avoiding his gaze, you didn’t want to see Caleb judging you.

Your high school graduation is just a few months away, but so far, every girl in your class won’t stop talking about the people they’ve kissed this year. Some have only had one kiss, others have had plenty, but out of all of them, you’re the only one who hasn’t had a single one yet. It’s not your fault—you’ve just never found yourself even a little bit attracted to anyone at school.

You didn’t even notice your appetite waning, your mind preoccupied with this. With graduation nearing, the last thing you wanted was to feel left out—missing out on bonding with your friends was the last thing you wanted.

“What’s so special about kissing?? It barely means anything.” his face twists into confusion and disgust, as if really trying to grasp why you’re making such a big deal out of this. Caleb silent mouths ‘kissing?’ before shifting his gaze back to you—just in time for you to throw a pillow straight at his face. But the pillow stops mid-air in front of his face, before dropping onto his lap as he leans back against the chair at your study desk.

“All of my friends have already had their first kiss. That’s like the only thing they’re talking about these days.” Your lips push up into a pout as you grab one of the stuffed animals nearest to you and hug it, allowing your head to rest on the plushie.

“And you’re jealous?” You choke on your saliva, coughing and hacking as your wide eyes meet his—one eyebrow raised and eyes heavy with disbelief. Caleb would’ve never guessed that his girl would grow up to be worried over something as minuscule as a kiss, especially a kiss with someone else.

“I’m not jealous! I mean like… It’s not like… Okay, maybe just a little?” your hands flail wildly all over as you try to defend yourself, but to no avail. Feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks, you take a quick glance and see that Caleb's gaze has darkened.

“Do you even know how to kiss?”

“Caleb… That’s a stupid question,” you murmur, already knowing the answer. Caleb knew that too. “Why would I be so worked up if I—”

With his lilac eyes fixed on you, he tilts his head slightly, then leans forward. “Would you like to know how?” His words cut through your sentence, leaving your lips parted in shock as you prop yourself back up, still clutching the plushie to your chest.

“What? What do you mean?” your brain struggles to process his words, unable to fully make sense of them as you frown and watch him get up. Caleb's tall figure towers over yours as he steps closer, leaning casually against the wall, making you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“I can teach you then, Pip-squeak.” His body lowers, closing the gap between you two as your grip on the plushie loosens. You try to back away, only to find your back pressing against the headboard just inches away.

“I… I mean… does this count as my first kiss?” His right hand reaches out, gently caressing your cheek before softly holding your chin, guiding it towards him.

“Hmm. Think of this as practice.” Caleb's grip on your chin is soft and gentle, completely opposite from his hazy, clouded gaze.

“Oh. Oh…kay then-” you draw the ‘o’ out but as soon as the confirmation leaves your mouth, his lips brush softly against yours. With your eyes closed shut and brows furrowed, he slowly moves, capturing your bottom lip between his own with a delicate pull.

Your body sinks further into the mattress, plush pillows pressing against your back. The bed groans under Caleb's weight as he closes the distance between you, one large palm placed on your hips while the other rests on the headboard. You kiss him back, or at least you try to. You move your lips in the same motion of waves as he does, but everything feels so awkward and off.

Feeling quite embarrassed, and out of air, your intended gently nudges on Caleb's tank top quickly turns into desperate grasps before the kiss finally breaks. You felt like you’ve just ran a marathon—body burning up and your lungs out of breath as you pant, trying to inhale as much oxygen as you could while avoiding eye contact. Though it was harder than you thought, because Caleb was now on top of you, his smirk haunting you as your cheeks flush.

“H-hey! Don’t look at me like that. I told you I don’t know how to kiss…” Your voice grows quieter each passing second as it somehow ends up as a tiny squeak. The sound of Caleb's laughter fills your ears as you turn back to him, his knee now finds itself between your legs as his face hovers just above yours.

“You’re overthinking this, Pip-squeak. Just follow what I do.” Though his words are reassuring, that husky tone in his voice throws you off as he quickly captures your lips into a kiss for the second time. Caleb's lips move against yours in a soft, sensual way as you try your best to mimic him. Remembering what he did to you, you trap the soft fullness of his lower lip and gently apply suction to it. His hums of approval catch you off guard as you feel a subtle rumble of his chest—Caleb's hand snaking down to the small of your back, before pulling your body flush against his.

As if a flip has just been switched, Caleb's lips move frantically against yours, biting your lower lips then soothing the sting with his tongue. Your lips part at the sudden pain, allowing his tongue to delve into your mouth. Soft whimpers escape from your throat as Caleb explores you, tracing every corner and leaving an odd-yet-pleasurable feeling as he does so. Surprised, and a little scared, you push his body off of yours as you cover your mouth in shock, the faint apple taste still lingering in your mouth.

“Your tongue… Do you still use that apple flavored toothpaste or something? Because that’s all I’m feeling? Tasting?” Caleb grabs your hands, lowering it as a light chuckle leaves his lips.

“You’re a natural, Pip-squeak.” Completely ignoring what you just said as his thumb caresses your cheek and he stares at your lips, as if capturing them in a kiss with his eyes, “But I think you need a little bit more practice. What do you say?”

“Oh….Um…” Your voice comes out as uncertain mumbles and murmurs while his face only inches closer to yours. That’s when you realize how Caleb's body is pressed against yours, radiating heat—how heat crept up his neck and spreaded to his ears. How his lilac eyes were still clouded with a hazy and clouded look.

“I think you need more practice.” Caleb already had a taste of you and now he can’t get enough. Your scent seeps into his senses, impossible to ignore—like an addict chasing his next fix. He took your first kiss and now he’s going to take your every first. He was going to make sure of it.

A/N: Ughhh, this was quite hard to write considering I’ve never kissed anyone before. BUT. I have read many writings about kissing so I hope that’ll make up for this. Stay delusional ya’lls! (*´∀`*) Dividers by @omi-resources

[sixeyesonathiel]

RED STRING OF FATE m.list

— alternative universes, same lovestruck idiots.

a collection of love stories woven through time and fate, where every twist and turn leads you back to him—gojo satoru. from childhood bonds to fleeting encounters, soulmates to strangers crossing paths, each moment is tied together by an invisible thread. no matter the distance or detours, love always finds its way home, and satoru is the heart of it all.

♡ generally fluff + happy ending 𔓘 some gn / mostly fem reader-insert

♡ satoru gojo being obnoxiously in love with you <3

♡ different aus, same red string

codes. path = oneshot. routes = series. completed = navigated, ongoing = navigating. word count = miles. personal faves = stellar. fan favorite = landmark.

── .✦ FATE’S ITINERARY

♡₊ path #001 ⌇ free throws and figure drawings

⤷ satoru gojo is a basketball star, the campus menace, and undeniably the best-looking guy in any room—but he’s definitely not a model. so when you, a quiet, intense art student with nothing but a flyer, ask him to pose for a painting, he laughs and says no. but when you mention paying him? suddenly, he’s reconsidering—because easy money might just turn into something far more complicated. <– navigated, 22k miles. stellar, landmark.

♡₊ path #002 ⌇ roses bloom the prettiest in ruin

⤷ as the princess of a fallen monarchy, you were raised to uphold tradition, while satoru gojo, the son of the prime minister, was taught to rule. your families have always been at odds—yours clinging to the past, his shaping the future—but satoru has never cared for politics when it comes to you. despite the lines drawn by power, satoru’s never been one to follow the rules, and from the moment he met you, he knew your story wasn’t meant to end in polite distance. <– navigated, 8k miles. stellar.

♡₊ route #003 ⌇ love comes in small sizes

⤷ you and satoru have always been something—never labeled, never defined. from jujutsu high to stolen rooftop kisses, your bond is a tangled mess of healing hands, half-confessions, and his irritating habit of getting hurt just to keep your attention. but when pride and loss tear you apart, you walk away—until six years later, fate (and a tiny, pink-backpack-wearing menace) drags you back into his world. <– navigating, 19k miles. landmark.

♡₊ route #004 ⌇ a guide to ditching the world’s most persistent nerd!

⤷ gojo satoru has been the bane of your existence since kindergarten—rejecting your chocolates, choosing studying over playtime, and making you think he was boring. years later, he’s the smartest, richest, greenest green flag at your elite university, and when you're paired for a 60% project, you think you can coast—until he drags you back to work at every exclusive club. you flirt, he humors you; you push, he pulls, and suddenly, you're falling for him in a way you never expected. <– navigating, 41k miles.

♡₊ path #005 ⌇ love thy neighbor

⤷ you’ve known satoru gojo since childhood, raised in a neighborhood where your moms’ lawn wars were as fierce as their friendship, and your dads? best friends. every morning, it’s the same—banter over the fence, competitive watering, and a rivalry you didn’t know would grow into something so much more. from your first awkward exchange to stolen glances over the years, he's the one constant you never saw coming. <– navigating, 24.6k miles.

♡₊ path #006 ⌇ bake me up, buttercup

⤷ after a grueling gym session, satoru’s thumb lazily scrolls through his feed, only to pause on a reel of the most captivating pastry he’s ever seen. it’s not just the mouthwatering treats your making—it’s the way you smile at the camera, a quiet warmth that gets to him more than he cares to admit. despite his best efforts to stick to his diet, he can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to steal a taste of your sweetness, too. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #007 ⌇ dazzle me, darling

⤷ at school, you and satoru gojo are academic rivals—always competing for the top spot in every subject, exchanging snarky remarks, and trying to one-up each other at every turn. however, when satoru gets into trouble one fateful night, a mysterious magical girl swoops in to save him, leaving him utterly enchanted by her grace and power. what he doesn’t know is that the magical girl he's falling for is none other than you, the same person he can't stand in class. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #008 ⌇ behind the lens

⤷ satoru gojo is the biggest heartthrob of his small town, a high school golden boy with a secret crush on you—the sweetest model in the industry. when he finally gets scouted, he expects to be the bad boy to your nice girl, only to discover you’re a lot more dangerous than he ever imagined. now, caught in a whirlwind of photoshoots and blushing, he can't decide if he’s terrified or completely hooked. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #009 ⌇ name slips, heart skips

⤷ you walk into your favorite café, but today, something’s different. the new barista keeps misspelling your name on purpose, and it’s too adorable to ignore. the more you brush it off, the more you realize it might not be a mistake after all—he’s clearly up to something. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #010 ⌇ boardroom chemistry

⤷ you’ve always kept it professional, flexible, and discreet with your side gig as a fake girlfriend—until your newest client turns out to be none other than your unbearable CEO. now you’re stuck pretending to date the man you despise, all while trying not to let your growing attraction ruin everything. if only he’d stop being so damn charming, maybe you could keep it together. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #011 ⌇ no one else needed to notice

you answered a quiet jujutsu forum post to escape a restless kyoto night. late-night messages with a stranger turned into playful banter and warm voice calls. his laugh became your tether, cutting through the monotony of sorcerer life. when he suggests meeting, it feels fragile but real. something steady sparks where you least expected it. <– navigated, 6.4k miles.

more destinations to be added.

tag list : @akeisryna @esotericsorrow @prettilyrisse @cherrymoon55 @linaaeatsfamilies @k0z3me

comment to be added on the tl xx. whole collection or specify what fic.

unreleased fics might be subject to change.

[sierrale8ne]

AMERICAN WEDDING 001. THE WIN you’ll probably leave later anyways, that’s love made in the usa. pairing paige bueckers x black!oc ( kayden kennedy ) warnings 3.7k words, flashback, brief mentions of homophobia lena talks chapter one finally here! enjoy, more coming soon xx

present day april 2025

When Kayden Kennedy was nine, she sat on her fathers lap on a plane ride to Kolkata. She looked over the water, wondering to herself why there was so much ocean. A year later, it was Baghdad, then Istanbul. She couldn’t remember a solid second where she wasn’t moving— where she wasn’t running off and following her father on the journey of his career.

It’s where she grew her love for history.

The large statues, the Seven Wonders of The World, the history. Many would see these places and be star-struck, amazed by the beauty in front of them. But Kayden was different, she was delighted by the how. How did these people get here, how were they brought up, how did they believe that this— this pyramid or this ancient pot— was a symbol of their culture. As she grew older it developed into why they were colonized. And then as she really learned the meaning of the word war, why did these people fight back. Or even, why did they give up.

The rich history of the world interested her always. Like this morning. 

She had woken up at six. The gym waited for her at seven-thirty, where she very attentively listened to an NPR podcast about the tragedies in Gaza. When she got home—nine-thirty on the dot— she changed, showered, ate her breakfast of toast and avocado and sausage while reading The Women by Kristen Hannah. 

By 11 she was cleaning the kitchen and at one she was seated on her couch, laptop open as she began to grade the last of her student’s fourth quarter projects: The Mexican-American War.

Kayden would like to think it wasn’t on purpose, how her job seemingly found its way into every aspect of her life when she wasn’t even trying. But then again, she sought out the knowledge. She wanted to grow her brain, fill it with as much information as she could until she was like a human encyclopedia. Which in all honesty she was, thanks to her eidetic memory.

But something about knowing everything and yet still knowing nothing at all excited her, as nerdy as it seemed. It allowed her to imagine another universe where things changed, where lives could be different.

Like how maybe, in another life, she’s watching her ex girlfriend play in person, and not on the comfort of her couch.

In a strange turn of events, the once persistent and completely attentive Kayden was distracted by something greater. Something heavier that weighed on her moral scale. Something she couldn’t quite name, but could feel on her chest. Almost like a boulder.

Kayden pushed buttons, almost like a second nature. 

Guide. Channels. ABC. 2025 NCAA Women’s tournament championship game.

Kayden had watched here and there. The burn of the bold UCONN letters ate her alive from time to time. She should’ve been there. In the stands cheering or in the library helping Paige study. That was the plan. Their plan. 

There were times when she let her mind wonder. To how Paige was doing, or if she’d thought about her as much as Kayden tended to think about her. When Paige got injured sophomore year, Kayden had hurt a bit. And when she tore her ACL she wanted to wrap Paige in her arms like when they were young and just tell her that it would be okay. 

She’d never say it out loud, though.

Kayden watched the whole game. Not missing a second. She felt like a high school student again, forced between a sweaty guy who didn’t care and a sweatier one who cared way too much. 

She saved face. Never faltering with a smile or a loud cheer. More for herself than anyone else (as she was alone in her apartment).

A Google Slides presentation is open on the coffee table in front of her, red pen balanced on top, forgotten. Because this, this is way more important. Even if she promised for these grades to be finalized by the start of class tomorrow. Paige, who’s having just a bit of an off shooting game, is playing in a game that could define the rest of her career and that just just occupies a larger place in her brain than James Polk and Ulysses S. Grant. 

So Kayden curled up on the couch in an oversized hoodie, her glasses slipping a little down her nose. A bottle of water sweats on the side table. And the game should make her sweat too but she couldn’t. Not even close.

By the start of the fourth quarter– the one of the game she’s been pretending not to watch, but has been glued to for the last hour– the Huskies are leading by 22. Paige’s teammates are killing it. A Sarah Strong layup here, an Azzi Fudd three there (which she does cheer for because she remembers talking to the girl about this dream in hotel room in 2018).

And then she hears the broadcast loud and clear. “Bueckers back door… puts it in! Plus the foul! It’s raining blue in Tampa.” Kayden’s eyes snap to the screen. Her breath catches.

Not because of her name, or even the fact that she just contorted her body and got the bucket. 

But the weight of this, the impending win. The fact that the woman she’d once married, is about to have her dreams come true all these years later, just makes Kayden’s heart swell a bit more. Beat a bit faster. 

The screen flashes in slow motion: celebrating fans, screaming teammates, Paige on the floor with a grin that hasn’t changed in five years. Kayden doesn’t smile. She exhales like she’s been holding that breath since the day she walked out.

flashback july 2019

My hands fumble with my phone, simultaneously trying to slip my feet into the confines of my black Doc Martens. My socks stick out loosely, white, frills on the edges. Just enough innocence to really make the moment. 

pb 🪼 I’m down the street Hurry before your mom starts asking questions

At that, I scramble. Pen, check. Change of clothes, check. Proper lie shoved into my back pocket, double check. I brush over my skirt, tugging down the hem of my tight white shirt in an attempt to cover the tiny stick and poke tattoo that came from drunk dares and an adventurous summer evening with Paige and Jalen.

k 🔐 coming!

I shove open my bedroom door, shoes heavy against the hardwood floor. The summer sun spills in against the grain, soft breeze blowing through the curtains. It’s beautiful, which only makes me speed up to get outside to an impossibly more beautiful girl. The kitchen smells like burnt coffee and lemon-scented cleaner, which makes me all the more excited to get out into the real world outside of this house.

“Where you headed?” 

My mom Marianne’s voice cuts in through the hum of the kitchen. She sits on the couch, legs outstretched with reading glasses perched on her nose and a book resting in her lap. She doesn’t look up, her voice doesn’t even have its usual lilt to it. And I know I’m in the clear.

“The Lake. Then Lauren’s house.” I lie, only partially though, because going to Paige’s cousin’s house after was part of our well thought out plan.

She hums, eyes glued to the book. “You sure that’s a good idea? I heard it was supposed to rain.” That’s code for Marianne Kennedy doesn’t want her daughter to go out at all. She’d rather I stay home where she can monitor me.

My voice trembles in the way that it does when I know I’m about to lie to her. “It’s fine. Paige is picking me up. She thinks we can beat it.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

“Boys gonna be there?” She asks.

Her voice is filled with something else, and I know exactly what she means. She’s really asking if I'm hanging out with the only girl my age that the entire neighborhood knows is gay, or can she feel comfortable knowing that I’ll talk to a boy here and there. But she’d never say that outright, no, because my mother has an image to uphold. So she’ll ask it like that, and then throw a diss in a few seconds. 

You know, the usual lowkey homophobia.

“Yeah. Jalen and Chet are going, and some other guys in my homeroom too.” I continue. It’s the half truth. There might be boys somewhere, though I’m hoping to get married and dip before they get there. I’m not that interested in sticking around long enough to find out. My eyes dart out the window, seeing the blonde’s beat up red Cadillac sit parked against the sidewalk. 

Mom hums again, thoughtfully this time. Like she herself is thinking about whether or not she believes me or not. “Not that I’m worried about boys, with Paige around.” There it is, that diss I could feel coming like a spidey-sense of mine. I was a superhero, fighting off homophobia one mom at a time. “That girl’s always been… a little wild, no?”

Her words make me flinch and I get defensive fast. Like mom is a girl at school throwing darts and looking to hurt the one person who seems to understand me better than I try to understand myself.

“She’s just not fake.” I say.

I watch my mom put the book face down in her lap, interlocking her fingers to look at me. She’s so blinded by hate that she can’t even notice my choice of attire is ill-fitting for the lake. “There’s a difference between being real and being lost, Kayden.” 

“Ma, I—”

“You’re not like her. I raised you better than that.” She raises an eyebrow. Using that damn code language of hers to say check yourself.

My stomach knots. I shift my bag higher onto my shoulder, needing to move, needing to get out of here before I let her words break me and I crack. Paige is outside with a wedding license in hand and I’m here listening to my mother call her all the underlying homophobic names in the book.

I get quiet. “We’re just friends. I have to go.”

“Good.” Mom nods, flipping the book back around. “You’re a good girl. Don’t let anyone confuse you about that.” She says and I dart for the door handle. I grab my house keys from the hook, bidding her a goodbye like she didn’t just stab me and twist the knife.

The car ride was silent—talking wise. Lil Baby blasts from the speaker and the wind rushes in and out of the car so fast I feel like I’m free flying through the air.

Paige sat next to me, her hand occasionally brushing against my knee as if she wanted to see if I was still there. If I was still in it. I was. Who was I kidding? It’s the girl of my dreams sitting next to me with the brightest light in her blue eyes and the biggest smile, probably bigger than the one she shot me after winning state this year. 

She’s calm, like this isn’t the craziest idea in the world. Which in turn makes me calm, makes me throw everything that happened with my mom an hour ago out the window.

But now, sunlight flashes across the tile and I stand awkwardly against the wall. A courtroom clerk in front of me. The room is smaller than I thought it would be. Which is crazy considering the biggest event of my young 17 year old life is taking place here. 

She notices, she always does. Her keys hang from the pocket of her shorts. The marriage license folded clean in half on the other hand. 

“You sure about this?” Paige asks, her back pressing against the wall, shoulder snug against mine. She’s warm with the kind of heat that feels like she could set me on fire. 

I huff. “We’ve already driven this far. Lied to our parents.” The series of events bats around in my head. Then I look over to her, as calm as could be. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time Paige let me see her be even just a bit nervous. She’s always walking around with that attitude and confidence that made it seem like the world was hers.

She stares straight ahead, branding the courtroom into her brain. “Baby, I don’t wanna… force you into anything. If you wanna go home, tell me. We can get ice cream on the way back or something.” Paige rations trying to help me make sense of it all. It makes me laugh when I think about the cliche; I help her make sense of the real textbook stuff and she helps me when it comes to all the other impulsive things.

“Then we’d have to tell people we just talked about it. This is way more dramatic.” I joke, peering up at the 6’0 athlete with wide eyes and a grin. “I want to do this. Especially with you.” I admit. The clerk digs his eyes at the both of us. I can assume he’s thinking of how much he’s not getting paid enough to entertain two 17 year old girls with a marriage license.

I grab her hand, dragging us to the clerk. Adrenaline runs through my veins like a fire. Paige slides the sheet over the counter, and he looks over it all disinterested but prepared to let us go through with it anyway. 

“Sign here.” He orders, flipping the sheet over like it means nothing. 

I look up at my girlfriend, suddenly realizing that after this I get to call Paige Bueckers my wife. I’ll slide a cheap thrifted ring on her finger and then go to college with her in a year from now. It’s all going to happen the way we planned it. 

So I reach into my bag for the black pen I had brought from my stationary. My hand trembles slightly, everyday handwriting coming in a bit rough as the weight of it settles in my chest like something permanent. Then I hand it to Paige, who’s full of no nerves and a simple confidence to her. 

She takes it before looking down at me. “You sure you’re not gonna chicken out?” Paige had asked, half-grinning, half-terrified— but she’d never let me know that.

I squeezed her hand, grinning back. “I want to be yours.” I didn’t say forever — we didn’t talk about the future much. It was too scary. Too far away. Too… uncertain. Especially with a meddling mom and a girl who might love basketball more than her gir—wife.

The clerk speaks again in his low monotone. “By the authority vested in me by the state of Minnesota, I pronounce you wife and wife.” He stamps the sheet lazily, handing it over to Paige again and right then it hits me like a blow. I was really married.

To her.

And then she kisses me, slow and breathless, like she’s never done it before. She didn’t care about the eyes, and the feeling of her hands on my cheeks stopped me from caring either. My nose brushes against hers as Paige pulls back first, forehead pressed to mine.

“I—I have um. This.” I hold the ring box in my hand, square and suede. It’s a bit dirty from years of it belonging to someone else. But, I don’t care. The box cracks open under my pressure, the dull silver still gleaming in the light. “I figured rings make this, y’know. Official.” I stutter, sliding the ring onto Paige’s finger without hesitation.

“You’re really doing this with me?” Paige asks, her voice so small it almost broke my heart if she wasn’t so perfect.

I nodded. “Always.” 

“Good. Because I got you one too. It’s in the car.”

Later, after she put a pandora ring that she’d spent all her summer savings on, on my finger. We drove like nothing happened. Like we didn’t just make a lifelong commitment. Like my mom wasn’t at home praying that the reality of sin didn’t brush onto me from her. 

We split cash on Ice cream, her dad sent her some money for gas. Everything was perfect. Even the cicadas that screamed in our ears as Paige drove down the straight road. 

Lauren’s house came into view over the hills. The neighborhood was empty enough for us to pull in unnoticed. So Paige parks at the field a block behind the house, climbing into the trunk of the car and pushing the seats back to watch the stars come out. 

It’s where we sit now.

She manipulates her long legs so she fits perfectly. I fit into the curve of her body, my skirt occasionally brushing up in the late night breeze. Paige’s fingers trace lazy shapes over my shoulder.

The stars are bright tonight, twinkling like precious diamonds in rubble. I look over my shoulder at Paige, at how you can see the occasional gleam across her irises.

“Paige?” 

She blinks languidly, the deep brown of her lashes brush over the apples of her cheeks. Dusting them like a thousand little paint brushes. 

“Yeah, baby?” She responds. Voice as deep as a teenage girl could really have. It’s sultry, but full of that kind of love and energy I’ve been subjected to since we were younger.

“You think we’re gonna regret it?” I ask, half-asleep, voice thick with warmth.

Paige had smiled into my skin. “Maybe. Probably. Who cares? At least I’m doin’ it with you, right?” She hums. 

And then, as if nothing else in the world exists, she kisses me again. Softer. Quicker. For the hundredth time today. I smile, against her lips, laughter spilling between us like a river flow. 

Young. Dumb. Untouchable. And for a while, it felt like the whole world really did belong to us and no one else.

present day april 2025

Kayden’s chest ached with the memory of the past and the imagination of a different one too.

Her laptop had been pushed off to the side alongside stacks of rubrics, messily marked and written on—she'd been prepared to be completely focused, but she wasn’t ready for how long it would really take.

Or how easily she would get distracted.

The channel had only been changed once from ABC to SportsCenter. She sat frozen on her couch, the championship celebration playing out in front of her. Without her.

Paige was in the middle of it all — standing on the black platform, hat on her head and shirt hugging her damp and sweaty arms. The confetti stuck to her hair and skin, glittering like stars against her blonde. She was beaming, electric, so full of life that Kayden felt her own chest hollow out just watching her.

Kayden should have looked away. Should have turned the TV off and finished grading papers like a normal person who didn’t still orbit around a girl she hadn’t touched in five years. Oh but no. She stayed.

She watched as Paige ducked into a hug with her coach as emotional as she’s ever seen her, doing the same with every assistant, every trainer, every teammate. Paige beelined straight for the sidelines, arms open for the family members swarming the court.

Kayden watched, and a stupid, heavy ache twisted low in her stomach.

She couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t explain why she still felt this way — tethered, glued to Paige’s happiness like it had anything to do with her anymore. Which it didn’t. Paige had outgrown the small-town dreams they’d once whispered to each other in the dark. She had built a life bigger and better than anything they ever dared to plan. By the looks of it, she also had someone else to celebrate it with. Azzi. By her side, and grinning the whole time as Paige celebrated a little too hard for national television.

Kayden should have been nothing more than a footnote. A “remember when” if she even crossed Paige’s mind at all.

But sitting there in the flickering blue light, watching Paige take the mic for the post-game interview, Kayden knew the truth she’d never managed to choke down: she really really missed her.

Not all the time, not like an open wound anymore — but here and there, in the quiet spaces. In the slow Sunday mornings and empty passenger seats and songs on the radio that pulled her back without warning. Kayden missed Paige a year ago when she was moving to Dallas, emptying her college apartment, and seeing the ring in the same box it was given to her five years ago. 

She missed her when she saw two girls holding hands without fear. When she heard laughter in the breeze that sounded like the kind they used to share.

But more than anything she missed Paige now. Worse than she had in a long time.

On screen, Paige was laughing through tears, her voice still a little hoarse from shouting and ungodly amounts of celebration, when the reporter asked what she’d tell her younger self. Kayden leaned in without thinking, like the answer mattered more than it should.

“I’d tell her to hold on,” Paige said, smiling. “And trust that even the stupid stuff or the little things might matter more than she thinks.” The words that were simple, obvious even, landed like a punch straight to Kayden’s ribs.

She shut the TV off mid-response, plunging the room into thick, echoing silence.

Kayden stayed there for a long time, staring into the blank screen, the ghost of Paige’s smile burned into her mind.

Still married, a small voice inside her said.

Still hers, if she wanted to be.

Kayden buried her face in her hands, realizing that no matter what; that wasn’t her life anymore. It couldn’t be. And it was no one’s fault but her own. Maybe if she wasn’t so listening, so scared, so uniquely Kayden Kennedy. 

And yet, somewhere deep inside he — in the parts she’d spent five years trying to bury— she wondered if Paige had ever missed her too.

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersbitch @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @ykylalex @ohmybueckers @avvwritesstufff @flipthepaige @cherryswisherz @lupinqs @vamptizm @bueckers555 @omg-imtumbling @courtsidewithlani @mariahthealchemist @authentic-girl03 @kissamiyahh @rebecca-woso @angryflowerwitch @rhianthebest @paigebaby5 @rishofkf @xoxosierralane @urantisocialgay @issilovesherself @your-local-bi-panic @nicebellee @elalfywhore @cowboybueckers

[nereidprinc3ss]

rubber duck

in which reader is sick and spencer takes care of his girl!!

fluff (18+ for nudity) warnings/tags: reader referred to as girl, non-sexual undressing + nudity/intimacy, reader takes bath, spencer doesn't but he is in fact present a/n: heeeeyyy guys.... sorry for not posting for a month... accept this as a token of my gratitude and know that smut is in the works. keep sending requests, might not answer them but you never knoww!!

Spencer gets home around ten PM. Granted, it’s not a completely unreasonable time for someone to be asleep, but for you? A person who’d rather not go to bed at all than wake up before eight in the morning? You being passed out on the couch at this time is definitely abnormal.  

He drops his bag on the coffee table as he approaches, kneeling next to where you’re curled up in the dark room. Part of him doesn’t want to wake you if you’re tired, but he’s mildly concerned. Normally after him being away all week you’ll stay up until he gets home regardless of how late (or early) it is. Ambient light coming in through the window allows him to see the sickly sheen to your skin, and he feels your forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Spence?” you murmur, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes. His response is equally quiet, wavering slightly. 

“Hey. Are you feeling okay, angel?” 

Even though you decidedly are not, your spirit lifts considerably at the sight of him in front of you. A wave of caramel hair falls over his furrowed brow as he scans your face, looking for signs that something is wrong. You brush it away, hand coming to rest on his cheek. 

“I’m fine. I missed you a lot.” 

Your voice is a paper-thin whisper, giving you away even as you try to downplay your condition. 

“I missed you too, but I’m a little worried. You’re pretty warm.” His eyes dart away from your face and down your body, seeming to notice your attire for the first time. “Did you go to work?” 

“I tried to. But I had to come home at early. I guess I didn’t make it all the way to bed.” 

This seems to worry him even more, if the way his eyes narrow and the line of his mouth tightens is anything to go by.  

“How long have you been asleep?” 

“Well... what time is it?” you ask sheepishly, still disoriented. 

“10:20.” 

“Oh god,” you moan, burying your face into a pillow (which does not make breathing any easier through all the congestion), “I’ve been sleeping for eight hours!” Panic wells in your chest at the ridiculous notion that you somehow lost an entire day to sleep.  "I didn't mean to-"

“Shh, relax, it's fine. Your immune system works a lot more efficiently when you’re asleep. It’s the best thing you can do when you’re sick. Studies show that melatonin may actually be an effective antiviral, and people who sleep seven hours a night are 300% less likely to develop an illness than people who sleep only five hours a night.” 

Despite yourself, you smile into the pillow at his unprompted information dump.

“So... am I... 500% more likely to be better tomorrow?” 

He laughs, running a hand through your hair. 

“I don’t even know where you got that number.” 

“I failed statistics in high school,” you mutter, pushing yourself up onto an elbow. 

“Honey, that’s Algebra.” 

You bury your face in your hand and laugh at your own stupidity- before it devolves into a coughing fit.  

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I know you hate germs,” you say once you’ve managed to get the coughing under control. You look at his face, but there are no signs of disgust or fear. 

“I could never hate your germs. But I am worried about the cough... do you think a bath would help?” 

You mull it over. Part of you wants to rot on the couch forever, but the more rational part knows you should definitely get up and try to take care of yourself. With a helping hand from Spencer you rise, stumbling into his waiting arms like a foal on shaky legs. Immediately you feel fatigued, but he patiently guides you to the bedroom and sits you on the mattress before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. 

For a few minutes the only sound aside from you catching your breath is the tub filling from the other room. Soon he returns, to find you curled up on the bed and barely conscious once more. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, gathering you up in his arms and helping you to your feet once more. “You really don’t feel good, huh?” 

You shake your head, allowing yourself to be carefully herded into the bathroom. Spencer moves to sit on the edge of the steaming tub, pulling you forward gently by your belt loops. Deftly he begins to undo your jeans as you fumble with the buttons on your shirt. 

“I feel like I’m dying,” you groan. He glances up at you.

“I wish you would have told me you were sick. I would have come home earlier.”  

“I thought about it,” you admit sheepishly, “but I figured better I be sick and alone than more people potentially end up dead because I’m too needy.” 

Your boyfriend sighs, resting his hands on your hips as he looks up at you with a mix of earnestness and admonishment.  

“At least tell me next time. I don’t like the idea of you here all alone without anyone knowing you’re ill.” His fingers press gently into your flesh to emphasize his point. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” you agree softly, without hesitation. Spencer’s expression softens too, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your sternum. 

“In,” he directs after you wiggle out of your jeans, getting out of the way and helping you into the water. He watches as you carefully submerge yourself, a little tense as if he’s ready to jump into action at any second. “Is it too warm? I tried not to make it too hot because your body temperature is al-” 

“It’s perfect,” you reassure, sinking further in. Steam billows up around you and you sniff. “Lavender?” 

Spencer nods, settling on the floor next to you. 

“And mint. I’m surprised you can actually smell it.” 

Normally you’d tease him for his fussing, but the minty steam really does seem to be helping you breathe a bit easier. After only a few minutes, you feel noticeably better. 

“Will you read to me?” you ask dropping your head to your shoulder to look at him. 

He’s leaning against the wall and monitoring you with a contented look on his face. At the suggestion his eyebrows raise. 

“Of course. What do you want to hear?” 

“Fairytales. But only the super gory ones. The more disturbing the better.” 

“What? No Jane Austen?” 

“Ugh, no. I need to hear about terrible things happening to beautiful princesses so I can feel seen.” 

A small smirk graces his lips as he regards you, eyes sparkling with humor and thinly veiled affection. 

“You are utterly ridiculous.” 

“You have to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you whine, slinking lower into the bubbles. Spencer hums in sympathy, running his hand through the water to check the temperature before trailing his knuckles over your arm. 

“My poor sick girl,” he teases. You huff indignantly, attempting to hide the way his words make you melt into the bathwater. 

“Just get the book, Spencer.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He kisses your forehead (covertly gauging your fever, you’re sure) before pushing off the ground. You watch him leave, heart overflowing with adoration even though you still feel sick. Maybe it’s the bath that’s helping, or maybe it’s just his presence.  

A minute later he returns to his post beside you bearing Grimm’s Fairytales and a tall glass of water, which he tells you to drink all of before he starts reading. Regardless of how unwell you feel, you find the energy to make sarcastic comments about the characters’ intelligence and the implausibility of the plot (it’s a fairytale, Spencer reminds you) but soon the soothing cadence of his voice enthralls you. The illustrations and the story capture your imagination as you rest your head and arms on the side of the tub. 

More time has gone by than you realize when you begin to shiver in the now lukewarm water. Spencer notices, finally setting the book down. 

“Ready to get out?” 

You nod and he helps you step out of the tub, pulling you close and wrapping you with a fluffy towel. Absolutely no heed is given to the state of his own clothing as your wet skin soaks his shirt, or his own health as he breathes in your air. 

“I’m gonna get you sick, Spence,” you say anxiously, making a feeble attempt to pull away. Spencer doesn’t even begin to allow it, holding you even tighter. The honesty of his words is reflected in his eyes as he looks down at you adoringly. 

“I can live with the idea of spending a few days at home together.” 

You lean into him further, too tired to hold much of your own weight up. 

“I can’t believe you have to intentionally get sick to get time off work.” 

“You’re definitely worth it.” He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back for a moment.  

“And to think,” you muse, the words muffled by his shirt, "when we first met, you wouldn’t even shake my hand.” 

[sonotpattismith]

missed my heart

pairing: nurse!sukuna x patient!reader word count: 4.9k content: sukuna is mean but a secret softie what's new, mentions of shootings, violence, this would definitely land him a meeting with HR irl but who cares, FLUFF

nurse!sukuna who scares the shit out of all his patients.

He was most definitely the last person anyone would have ever assumed would go into a field centered around helpingvulnerable people. Hell— it surely wasn't his first career choice, but when his brother and sister-in-law died, he suddenly had a lot more to worry about than just himself. 

It took a lot of internal arguments with himself, still grappling with the loss of the only family he'd ever known, and now he had a six year old to take care of as well. 

nurse!sukuna who came to the begrudging realization that his preferred method of making a living that typically consisted of underground gambling, the occasional gig as a temporary hit man, and messing around with the wrong crowd definitely was not going to work anymore with this toddler waiting up for him every night. 

He threw himself into researching professions that would afford him and his nephew a comfortable life— one where he could still make ends meet while having enough time to be present in Yuuji's life. 

nurse!sukuna who realized in the midst of his frantic research that he could make a hell of a decent pay as a nurse while only working three days a week thanks to those brutal twelve hour shifts. 

nurse!sukuna who had barely a high school education under his belt working his ass off threatening people to do his work for him trying to pass the prerequisites he needed in order to get into an accelerated nursing program. 

He figured he'd have to cheat his way through nursing school, already having learned through his extensive research that the program was not for the faint of heart, and he essentially wouldn't have a life for the next eighteen months. At the very least, he had enough money stashed away to be able to focus on school for a while without completely drowning in bills. Of course, a big chunk of that savings went to paying for a damn near round the clock babysitter for his nephew.

There was no other way around it though, what with the countless three plus hour classes, the clinicals, the exams— Sukuna truly did not have a life any longer. 

nurse!sukuna who, at the very least, was slowly realizing that there was no need for him to bully a classmate into giving him their study guides or paying someone to complete his grueling care plans for him— because he was actually getting it. Not only that, but he was kicking ass in nursing school.

Not even in a million years would he have guessed the learning about sepsis and arrhythmias would actually peak his interest, but he found the meticulousness of it all utterly fascinating. Sure, the long hours were beating his ass, but at least he wasn't completely miserable.

nurse!sukuna who finished his program at the top of his cohort and had no issue landing a residency in the trauma unit of a local hospital. Well— perhaps no issue was a stretch. The interview panel were definitely hesitant when the intimidatingly large and tattooed man sat down before them, wondering what a vulnerable patient might feel with thiswalking in as their nurse.

nurse!sukuna who put all their doubts to rest when he answered all their questions with flying colors, spit firing through their case study examples with an ease that even some of their more seasoned nurses couldn't pull off. 

nurse!sukuna who quickly made a name for himself on the unit following the end of his residency. 

The entire staff feared him— CNAs, unit secretaries, hell even some of the doctor's feared what might happen to them if they didn't put in the orders for Sukuna's patient's meds quick enough. He paid them no mind though, because he was making an honest living for once with four days to spare every week for his own life. 

nurse!sukuna who became the go-to dump for the unit's more... difficult patients. If he noticed, he certainly didn't make any complaints. He knew he had an assertive air that got him farther with his patients than most of the other nurses who were too scared to put their foot down. 

nurse!sukuna who had had HR called on him more times than he could count thanks to his... cold and abrupt approach with his patients. Each case was always dismissed though, because despite the fact that the patients might not like his firm attitude, they all received excellent care from him, and the unit knew firing him would be too great of a skill loss. 

nurse!sukuna who had grown used to his coworkers coming to him to set their patients straight. 

They didn't want to take their meds? Sukuna just had to cross his arms at their bedside with that daring look in his eyes and down the hatch those sleeping pills were going. 

Male patient was getting frisky with some of the female nurses? Sukuna would insist that they switch assignments, because he'd love to see that bastard trying to grope at his ass while keeping his round the clock pain meds. 

nurse!sukuna who's assistance was requested for a gun-shot victim who was refusing to let phlebotomy draw her blood for their routine checks. 

He sighed, saving the charting he had been catching up on at the station before stretching from his rolling chair. The endless popping of his joints had onlookers staring over in concern, though everyone knew not to stare too long lest he snap at them. 

Sanitizing his hands at the door, Sukuna's lips remained in a firmly set line as he strolled into your hospital room. You were staring blankly at the window by your bed despite the fact that one of the staff members had turned the small television on for you at the beginning of their shift. 

Of course, no one liked hospitals, much less being stuck in one for days on end, but the bullet wound in your chest definitely didn't make matters any easier. 

You had been in the wrong place at the wrong time— at least that's what everyone told you in a half-hearted attempt to urge you to accept the past that you couldn't change, but none of their reaffirming words would rid you of the memory of the piercing gun-shot ringing through your ears that night. 

Gang violence is what the police had chalked it up to, almost as a means to clean their hands of the situation. You could hardly blame them for not wanting to get involved. After all, more than half of the time, each person that got caught meddling within their affairs often ended up dead or... in the trauma unit at the hospital wondering why the fuck they didn't just take the train home instead of walking through a bad part of town late at night. 

Your head shifted at the sound of nearing footsteps, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in frustration. The action froze midway into your skull upon seeing the specimen that had walked in. 

nurse!sukuna who looked way too devilishly handsome for someone who was already seven hours into his twelve hour shift. 

His black scrub top strained against his bulging chest and biceps, threatening to pop at any moment if he should make too abrupt of a movement. It was tucked neatly into his matching, jogger-style bottoms that tied at his waist and accentuated his lean figure, and you had to remind yourself to look up lest he caught you gawking at him. 

"How many phlebotomists does this place have?" You grumbled rhetorically as your fingers fisted into the stiff sheets below you anxiously. 

"Not a phlebotomist, princess." He quipped with a click of his tongue, examining the way your body seemed to ease up at that reassurance. "You giving these people a hard time? They don't get paid enough to put up with your bullshit. So, why don't you give them your damn arm and let them help you, alright?"

Your cheeks heated at his sharp criticism. The last thing on your mind was trying to give the staff attempting to help you a hard time, but you were sure your veins would collapse if you let another one of them poke aimlessly at you for twenty minutes again. Turning your face back toward the window, you chewed on your bottom lip, crossing your arms carefully around your bandaged chest. 

nurse!sukuna who actually thought he felt the strangest glimmer of remorse sting at his chest at your mumbled explanation. 

"They keep saying I'm a hard stick. One of them was digging a needle around in my arm for ten minutes this morning instead of just looking for a different vein."

His ruby eyes drifted down to the slightly concealed crease of your arms where there were countless, deep purple hematomas lining the area. Hard stick or not, whichever dumbass phlebotomist that was on shift this morning seriouslydid a number on your veins. Clicking his tongue in aggravation, he made no explanation as he strode out of your room. 

nurse!sukuna who returned to your room only five minutes later with the blood draw supplies in tow. 

You shifted uncomfortably on the bed at the sight of the capped needle sitting menacingly in the plastic tray alongside the sample tubes. As he began snapping on a pair of rubber gloves, you quickly shook your head in protest.

"I told them I don't want to be stuck anymore." You insisted, though your voice was wavering with subtle panic at the memory of the needle digging through your already sore arms. "Blame me, say I refused." 

Setting down the tray at the bedside table, the nurse crossed his swelled arms over his broad chest. The expression on his handsome face was ever-unimpressed, but there was an underlying determination hidden within his gaze. 

"Like hell you refused." He grumbled as he raised the bed for better leverage. "Tell you what, if I don't get you on my first try I'll document your refusal request myself." 

With an apprehensive gulp, you sized up the intimidating man. He by no means had the presence of someone delicate enough to handle a blood draw with the type of intricacy that the task called for. Still, if he agreed to document your refusal, the phlebotomy team would at the very least leave you and your poor veins alone for the day. Your teeth sunk into your inner cheek before offering the most subtle of nods in agreement. 

nurse!sukuna who exhibited far more patience than you would have hoped to give him credit for as he reached for your wrist to outstretch your arm for him to see. 

He shook his head disapprovingly at the countless bruises that marked the previously failed attempts. 

"Make a fist for me." He ordered lowly as his warm, gloved hand still gripped at your wrist. The other flicked at your forearm in an attempt to find a vein. With a firm hum, he made quick work to tie the tournaqnuette just above your elbow before wiping at his chosen area with an alcohol pad. The sight of the thin needle alone as he uncapped it was enough to make you lightheaded, that queasy sensation settling at the pit of your stomach. 

Glancing up at you and taking note of the paleness that had suddenly befallen your expression, he handed you a fresh alcohol pad. 

"Breathe that in before you pass out on me." 

nurse!sukuna who paid you no mind as you looked up at the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut as he carefully slid the needle into your arm. You held your breath as he slowly advanced it, waiting for the inevitable digging to start. 

It never came though, and after only a second or two, the nurse was snapping the tourniquet off your arm and twisting on the sample tube to collect the blood flowing freely from the vein that he'd found on his first try.

He tried to appear nonchalant, but the awestruck expression on your scratched up face warmed his ice-cold heart. The nurse made a mental note to check who the fuck the phlebotomist on shift was this morning so he could bitch them out. 

Once the final tube was filled, he carefully slid the needle out and placed it in the forgotten tray while holding pressure on the minimally bleeding puncture site. His forefinger and thumb wrapped easily around your arm with a firm grip on the cotton ball as he grabbed a bandaid to hold it in place. 

nurse!sukuna who winked knowingly at you as he snapped his gloves off and tossed them expertly into the trash bin across the room. Collecting the tray with the over samples, he glanced over his shoulder on his way out. 

"And if that bruises, I owe you a shitty cafeteria ice cream."

nurse!sukuna who saw that they had put you onto his assignment the next morning, already having deemed you a 'difficult patient' that apparently had become his specialty. He had half a mind to tell them that you weren't difficult, you were just tired of being poked and prodded at. 

Still, he didn't mind having you on his assignment, so he didn't bother raising a fuss about it either way. 

nurse!sukuna who found himself eager to come greet you that morning with an I told you so smirk because of the bruise he didn't have to check your arm to know wasn't present.

Upon entering your room after a warning knock at your door though, he found you still fast asleep. Humming softly to himself, he tore his gaze away from your sleeping form to replace the night shift nurse's name and pager number on your whiteboard with his own. 

He quietly made his way over to your bedside to replace the saline bag on your IV pole that had run out. You stirred softly as he continued his routine checks, or as much of it he could do while you were sleeping. Given the nature of your injury and trauma, Sukuna wasn't sure when the last time you were able to sleep so soundly. 

nurse!sukuna who shot straight up out of his spot at his charting computer when he saw phlebotomy making their way to your room just a short two hours later. 

Scrambling to save his progress, he made quick work of barging into the room just as you had begun to protest the samephlebotomist that fucked your arm up the day prior. Spotting that familiar head of pink hair over his shoulder, there was a palpable relief glimmering in your eyes. 

"I'll take care of it." He said simply, holding his hand out expectantly at the startled phlebotomist. "Didn't know they were hiring fucking dimwits in this place." 

He knew he'd surely be getting another complaint filed against him, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he caught sight of your grateful expression, the soft smile you were attempting to hide breaking through your dry lips. 

nurse!sukuna who made sure to use your other arm in order to give the one he'd poked yesterday a break. After having looked over your chart, he knew you had frequent lab checks, so the least he could do was make it as tolerable as possible. 

Much like yesterday, the sight of the needle still had you squirming uncomfortably in the stiff hospital bed. Sukuna huffed out a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he advanced the needle. 

"Are you laughing at me?" You squeaked out, eyes still turned toward the ceiling so you wouldn't fall sick at the sight of your own blood. 

"You got shot in the fucking chest but can't handle a butterfly needle?" 

nurse!sukuna who kept forgetting to watch his sailor mouth when he was on the clock, but hey— it made you laugh.

nurse!sukuna who's interest had been peaked that morning as he was reading over your chart and discovered your admission paperwork, learning that you had come in for a gun-shot wound following a gang related incident. The bullet had grazed your heart, hence the need for such an emergent, invasive surgery that was evident in the fresh, straight scar running down your chest.

Sure, he had left all of that behind after taking Yuuji in, it had been years, but he still couldn't help but want more information. What he was going to do with it? God only knew.

"Gonna have to do some wound care on you soon, too." Sukuna prefaced as he finished up drawing your labs. 

The thought had you flustered, even if you knew this was a professional. Sure, he'd likely seen more chests than he could ever care to wish for in his lifetime thanks to his field of work, but it didn't make the prospect of this way too hot for his own good man seeing you so exposed any less intimidating. 

You should have ripped the stupid stickers connecting you to your heart monitor off your chest when you had the chance, because the anticipation of the moment alone was causing that embarrassing beeping to sound off again from your gown. 

Taking a few deep breaths and glancing away from him, it luckily steadied out just as he pulled the box up to inspect it once again with furrowed brows. 

nurse!sukuna who came back almost an hour later with various supplies in tow to do his job as you had been dreading for the past sixty-four minutes. 

nurse!sukuna who, despite his typical, sharply astute nature, remained completely oblivious when your heart monitor spiked in tandem with your loosening the ties on your gown as he busied himself with prepping the supplies so as to provide you some privacy. 

“Your nurse yesterday didn’t call in a cardio consult for you?” He questioned mainly to himself, recalling the fact that you had been slightly tachycardic yesterday as well. Making a mental note to make the call himself, he hummed when your timid voice informed him that you were ready. 

Your hands were clutching your gown anxiously over your breasts as well as you could while still allowing him access to the wound site that was residing just above your right breast. 

Wanting to make this as quick as possible in order to cut your discomfort of being exposed in front of a stranger short, Sukuna made quick work to carefully undress your wound. The entire surrounding area was a grueling, greenish-yellow hue, but that was to be suspected with an incident so recent. 

nurse!sukuna who was no stranger to gunshot wounds given the crowds he used to get himself involved in back in the day, but the sight of one on someone as unsuspecting as you made his jaw clench. 

Perhaps it was the fact that he knew it was gang-related that irked him so deeply as he cleaned the site as gently as a man so large could possibly manage. 

The nurse knew how these sorts of things went. The police never wanted to touch that side of town, someone always knowing somebody else, or that people who were meant to be protecting the little guys were too fearful of getting involved. They would tell you that they were working diligently to apprehend the individuals at fault, but nothing would happen— no justice would be brought to you.

You who he thinks is the first person in a long time to have been comforted by his presence rather than scared by it. You who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You who’s sweet and timid smile those assholes would never have the pleasure of seeing because there were never any repercussions for their actions. 

You who could be brought to justice with just one phone call to the right person who Sukuna knew he could find with just a few minutes of concentrated searching. 

nurse!sukuna who hadn’t felt the urge to have someone else’s blood on his hands if weren’t to help them in so long, but he could practically feel the substance crusting deliciously under his fingernails and into the crevices of his knuckles now as he thought about how satisfying it might be to call in one last favor. 

nurse!sukuna who has to pull himself from his murderous thoughts when he heard your voice cut through the haze of his imagination to ask how much longer this would take.

“You bossing me around now?” He huffed in feigned annoyance, but the mirth hidden beneath his eyes gave him away. “Don’t forget who’s the only bastard here who’s been able to find your worm-ass veins.”

You attempted a breathy laugh at his mocking, but you found it difficult to release anything but a pathetic, choked gasp as his head dipped down to get a better angle of his work. Catching a waft of his subtle cologne, it was becoming increasingly impossible to not act like you’d never been touched by a man before.

Still, the pink-haired man didn’t catch on, too focused on assuring each nook and cranny of your wound was cleaned lest you become septic on his watch to notice your flaming cheeks. 

nurse!sukuna who’s movements paused altogether when your traitorous monitor began going ballistic once again just as soon as his hand grazed too close to the swell of your breast by accident. 

He blinked slowly, his ruby irises seeming to move in slow motion as they shifted from where his hand had wandered to the small box monitor resting just beside you. 

“...Oh.” Was all he said. 

You held your breath, hoping his abrupt halt was due to his concern for your cardiac health. Those prayers were in vain though, because after only a few seconds, he looked back up at you with the most infuriating of knowing glints glimmering in his prepossessing eyes.

Gulping down the anxious lump in your throat, your eyes immediately shifted in an attempt to escape his rapturous gaze, landing on the tiled ceiling above your head. 

“Hm,” Sukuna hummed in amusement, finally tearing his eyes from your flushed face to begin putting down some fresh gauze. “Gotta say, I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Oh, please,” Your nervous scoff wasn’t at all convincing, but you were grasping at straws here. “You’re the only person I’ve seen in days that isn’t over forty or collapsing my veins.”

“So, if the phlebotomist was hot, I wouldn’t be here right now? That what you’re saying, princess?”

“Please either finish this or pull my plug and leave me to die here.” You begged as the back of your head hit the pillow so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

“You’re not on life-support, dumbass.” Sukuna quipped with a smirk, but, despite his teasing, worked quickly and efficiently to secure the fresh gauze around your wound before tossing the used supplies into the bin. “All done.”

“Thank you.” You managed to breathe out even through the tremble in your tone, quickly moving to shrug your arms back into your gown. 

Still unable to look him in the eyes, your breath hitched when you felt his cold hands at your nape, tying the back of your gown so you didn’t try to lift your arms above your head and pop a stitch. Despite having his literal job on his defense, you couldn’t help but feel as though he was doing it on purpose now, given the deep chortle that reverberated within his chest at the sound of your heart racing out of your ribcage once again.

“Don’t think of me too much while I’m gone.” The nurse mocked as he sanitized his hands on his way out before throwing a mischievous wink over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t wanna have to call a code on you.”

nurse!sukuna who notoriously never picked up overtime, marching over to the charge nurse as soon as his shift ended to let them know that he could come in tomorrow if they needed the help— with the exception that he could keep his same assignment, of course.

And, let’s be real, when didn’t they need the help?

nurse!sukuna who would drop whatever he was doing when it was time to draw your labs, because he’d be damned if someone was going to mark you up again on his watch. Phlebotomy had already stopped bothering to pass by your room, opting to simply leave your needed lab tubes at the station by Sukuna’s computer. It didn’t matter if he was drowning in work, he would always somehow find the spare five minutes if it meant making you more comfortable. 

nurse!sukuna who would come back early from his lunch to spend the remainder of his break with you under the guise of doing a routine vitals check. Nevermind the fact that you had informed him through fierce confusion that the nursing assistant had just checked you only an hour prior. 

“You telling me how to do my job?”

nurse!sukuna who scoffed out in frustration upon noticing that you had only been barely picking at your food trays, though he could hardly blame you— feeding this shit to human beings should be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Despite his understanding, he would adamantly hover in your room until you at least finished your protein. 

“This ain’t a fuckin’ hotel— eat your dry ass chicken.”

nurse!sukuna who would still sneak you in sandwiches from the employee cafe when your meals would look particularly gruelling. 

 “Quit looking at me like that. I want you to go home, I’m sick of seeing your sorry ass on my assignment.”

He left out the part where he just wanted you to get better so he could slip his phone number onto your discharge paperwork, and maybe he could meet you over coffee that didn’t have to be decaffeinated per your nutrition plan. Seeing you everyday wasn’t so bad though. 

nurse!sukuna who pushed you to get out of bed everyday, even if you were digging angry, red crescents into the flesh of his arm as you looped around the room.

“I feel like everything winds me.” You would sigh out through tears of frustration. 

“Don’t be a pussy.” He would always reply, but the ice cream he would always inevitably sneak into your room later on in the day let you know that he was proud of you, even if he had a funny way of showing it.

nurse!sukuna who ran into your room when the nurse call button above your door started blinking— because you never called for anything. 

“You okay?” His words nearly slurred together as he burst into the room, his brows drawn so fiercely together that they were practically kissing. 

You were perched calmly on your bed though, the head raised up so that you were in a sitting position that he insisted you remain in unless you were sleeping. There was a palpable excitement etched onto your expression, albeit shocked, but happy nonetheless. Looking over at him eagerly, you nodded toward the small television screen on the far wall of the hospital room. 

Trying to calm his racing nerves from the scare you had just given him, he slowly trekked farther into the room to stand at your bedside as he looked up at the news you seemed so excited about. 

“The fuck am I looking at?” The nurse deadpanned, his ruby eyes scrutinizing the various police cars surrounding a dingy looking apartment building as depicted on the screen. 

“They caught him!” You babbled incredulously, and the elation in your tone made him tear his eyes from the television to see how that joy would manifest on that sweet face of yours. Fluttering your gaze between the screen and your nurse, you blinked back the relieved tears that threatened to spill from your waterline. “The guy that shot me. They said an anonymous tip was sent in with information of all the people involved in that gang.”

He only hummed, but there was a faint smirk of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his lips. 

nurse!sukuna who may or may not know why that tip wasn’t as anonymous as you believed it to be. 

“You called me in here for this?” He grumbled in feigned annoyance, but even you could see right through his cool facade. “Thought you were finally going into cardiac arrest at the thought of me.”

“Sorry…” Your voice trailed bashfully as you looked down at your blanket-covered lap. His heart stirred at the shade of red quickly swirling onto your cheeks. “I just… just thought you’d wanna know.”

Clicking his tongue softly, he pushed off the side rail that he’d been leaning on, taking you by surprise when he grasped at the nape of your neck. With a gentle tug, you were being pulled in closer to him, completely shell-shocked when you felt the warmth of the very lips you had been fantasizing about for nearly a week pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before releasing you all together. 

“We can celebrate when you get out of here, yeah?” He quipped with a tender wink and ruffle of your hair. 

nurse!sukuna who would definitely miss the way your heart monitor betrayed you each time.

a/n: sorry for such a short post after being away for a while, I'm getting back into the swing of things and hope you still like it :')

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[akixa]

Throughout || GunxF!Reader

At this point I'm just writing what I just dream...

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄, ⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂

⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹

As the wife of Yamazaki Yuzuru, the heir of the powerful Yamazaki Syndicate in Japan, you are also known as the White Ghost. The news of your marriage to Gun Park came as a shock to many, as there was no prior announcement of the wedding, leading to speculation and surprise within your social circle.

Your relationship with Gun dates back to your childhood, as you both have known each other since the age of 10. Despite being the same age, Gun exudes a sense of maturity, and the strong bond between you has only grown over the years. He has always been a constant presence, following you wherever you go, and at school, the two of you are inseparable. While others may view you as mere classmates casually discussing homework and projects, in private, Gun demonstrates his affection by gently patting your cheek, kissing you on the forehead, and secretly placing a small flower on your bag.

As you settled into the rhythm of high school, you never expected to encounter Gun again, especially since he attended a different school and lived further away. However, one day, as you sat in your classroom, Gun casually strolled in with a vibrant bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand. Placing it delicately on your desk, he swiftly made his exit, leaving a faint blush lingering on his cheeks unnoticed by you as you marvelled at the beautiful blooms.

As time drifted by, you found yourself perched on the school rooftop engaged in deep conversation with Gun. During this exchange, he unexpectedly broached the subject of accompanying him to Korea, as he had been presented with a job opportunity there. After careful consideration, you concluded that you were committed to completing your college education in Japan, where you were already in your third year, and would soon be graduating. Beside you, Gun nodded in understanding as you pondered the potential outcome of his departure for Korea. Uncertain about how you would fare without him, an unsettling feeling nestled deep in your thoughts.

As you were lost in thought, he suddenly noticed a frown forming on your face. Worried that he might have upset you with his question, he gently reached out and softly brushed his fingers against your cheek, guiding your gaze to meet his. Cupping your face tenderly, he proceeded to caress your cheek with gentle affection. You were looking into each other's gaze.

“Once you go to Korea, will you come back to visit here?”

“Of course.”

He holds you so gently in that moment, forgetting everything except the moment you feel a soft touch on your lips, feeling your heart melodies match with Gun’s heartbeat as you slowly close your eyes and feel the embrace of each other.

As you strolled down the dimly lit hallway, the rhythmic tap of your footsteps reverberated off the walls. It had been five long years since you had lost touch with Gun. Upon completing your studies, you made a life-altering decision to venture to Korea in search of him. Stepping foot in a new country was an overwhelming experience, and it was filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Despite exchanging letters for a year, Gun remained silent, never acknowledging any of your heartfelt attempts to reconnect.

Currently, you are walking through the hallway of the HNH company, searching for a meeting room for a gathering of distinguished members. Due to your expertise in the field of marketing, Charles Choi hired you to make a favorable impression, and you have been working for him for a month.

As you arrive at the meeting, you already see Charles Choi sitting while typing on his laptop, next to him is his daughter Crystal doing something on her phone; and next to her is a pink-haired guy. You last heard that guy is a famous Korean idol. Lastly, on the other side of the table is a blonde guy talking to a pink guy who's not interested in the topic.

Upon your arrival, a blonde guy notices you entering the room, and in the blink of your eyes, he suddenly appears in front of you.

“Well, hello there, sugarplum. I'm Goo Kim, and it is a very pleasure to meet a beautiful lady.” Goo grabs your right hand and kisses behind it, making a smooch sound.

You look at him unimpressed and slightly disgusted, but you forcefully put a fake smile on your face and introduce yourself to him.

“Hello, I'm (name); it's nice to meet you too.” Smiling at him, you quickly retreat your hand and wipe the kiss away. Goo tries to take a closer look at your face, making you step backwards to bump into someone behind you.

You feel a soft hand touch on your shoulder, pulling you closer to them.

“Your bad breath will suffocate her, Goo. Back away.” A deep voice came out of nowhere. You look behind to see a black-haired guy with sunglasses on with scars between his eyes. You feel possessive toward this guy. How intriguing this is.

As you keep looking at him bickering with Goo. You took a chance to look underneath the sunglasses and noticed a UI eye was already looking down at you. Surprisingly, you only know one person who has black eyes and white pupils and is a Gun.

A cough from Charles signals you three to take a seat and start the meeting now.

After a meeting, everybody left the meeting room except you, and the sunglasses guy filled up the silence between you two. Your eyes widen as you look at the guy in front of you now, back pressed on your chair, a large hand gripping your shoulder, not too harsh to create a bruise.

“Thought I will never see you, Gun.”

Gun removes his sunglasses, showing off his UI eyes. Looking down at your small figure.

“You… Why are you here? ”

“What else? I'm also here to work.”

“Work here? If I were you, I would leave this place already for safety reasons.”

“Then why wouldn't you? And why are you not sending letters anymore? Don't you want me anymore..?”. You look at him with teary eyes. Feeling unpleasant through your chest when you see Gun's irritated face.

He let out a deep sigh and tenderly brushed away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. In that moment, his gentle touch made you feel as though you were being enveloped by the same warmth and care as you did many years ago.

“Believe me or not, but I did send you letters back. You are the one who didn't send it back to me.”

“What do you mean? I didn't get any… Don't play with me, Gun; you know I hate games.”

“I'm not joking.”

“Then how come you didn't visit me? You said you would...“

“I did, but work caught me and is your safety too. If I visit you, the enemies of mine will come at you and take you away from me. I was glad to know your position is safe, but the place you are working at is in danger.”

“Oh,...” As you looked down, a pang of guilt washed over you as you found yourself questioning Gun's true feelings for you. However, as you gazed back into his eyes, you were met with a warmth, adoration, and unmistakable love that instantly dispelled your doubt. The guilt in your chest gave way to a fluttering feeling of excitement and hope as your mind wandered, envisioning a future filled with happiness and love shared between the two of you.

He gave you a small smile as he leaned down to kiss you on your forehead before leaving the room all by yourself, a blushing mess.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

And that night in Gun’s apartment is the best moment together with him, tangled around on the bed, lips crashing together, exploring bodies, and whispering about how you two miss each other. Another year with him again.

As the years passed, both of you still worked for the same company. But Gun is busier than you being the bodyguard for Charles and his daughter and finding a next successor for him. The only time you two can see each other is at night at home, and on his day off, he sometimes spares time for you to get smooches, dates, cuddles, or anything in the short time with him.

When Gun received the news of your retirement, he rushed to his apartment to discuss the matter with you. However, he was left speechless when you revealed that you were pregnant. In a moment of shock, he stood still, unable to find the right words. You gently tried to get his attention, but then he slowly embraced you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. He held you with tenderness and affection, expressing his emotions wordlessly.

He is completely open to the idea of starting a family with you. In fact, he was overjoyed to embrace fatherhood and is now contemplating proposing to you at an earlier time, envisioning a little version of you both happily playing around the house. Speaking of homes, he even expressed interest in adding a larger, more luxurious residence to the list of potential purchases.

In this new spacious house, you find yourself cradling your daughter as she peacefully sleeps on your lap while you immerse yourself in the pages of a captivating book. Surprisingly, your daughter bears an uncanny resemblance to Gun, except for her eyes, which mirror your own as you gaze at Gun with affection. It's truly heartwarming and endearing.

Behind you, you hear footsteps approaching you. Gun see and your daughter having a comfortable time. You gesture at him to keep quiet, pointing at your daughter, who is still sleeping on your lap. He quietly made his way to you, kissing you on your forehead and his hand caressing your daughter's cheeks, sleeping figure.

"Her cheeks are plum."

"You mean she's cute."

"She is. She seems tired. What did she do all day?"

"Running around here and there." You let out exhausted sighs, making Gun chuckle at his daughter's behavior. Admiring you and the life you both created together. He glimpse at your ring finger the small diamond on the middle shining brightly reminding him that you are his wife and no one else.

“Tell Goo to stop stealing our daughter to sell drugs.”

“Will do.”

He kiss your forehead as you three proceed your evening together cuddling.

Ꮺ .

[suhosieun]

MBTI typings + analysis of weak hero class characters

disclaimer: this analysis would be based on cognitive functions, so please don't tag this post with "why is he an e, he should be an i" or something like that. please read about cognitive functions, it's life-changing.

and this is my personal observation and analysis, so i'm not claiming 100% accuracy. but i have been studying mbti typology for 5 years, and i believe my hyperfixation on weak hero characters is strong enough to offer an interpretation that's atleast in the right ballpark. feel free to share your own opinions, though.

yeon sieun — INTJ (Ni-Te-Fi-Se)

INTJs lead with introverted intuition (Ni), which means they're constantly absorbing patterns and projecting outcomes. that’s essentially sieun’s entire combat strategy. he fights with foresight, not force. his brain is always several moves ahead, calculating silently before acting. he also has auxiliary extraverted thinking (Te), which makes him prioritize efficiency. this explains why he’d rather stab someone with a pen and end the fight cleanly than try to brawl with someone much stronger than him. it's just more efficient.

INTJs have tertiary Fi (introverted feeling), which acts like a quiet internal moral compass. it’s always there in the background, nagging him. it's not loud enough to dictate his decisions, but still present in case he changed his mind. that’s why he hesitates to help juntae at first. not out of apathy, but because the voice in his head keeps getting suppressed by his dominant intuition, which keeps telling him to mind his own business. it keeps warning him of the consequences of getting involved. however, he takes action when he finally listens to his tertiary Fi telling him, you know it’s the right thing to do.

his inferior Se (extraverted sensing) makes him inattentive to his physical environment unless it directly interferes with his internal world. he's never interested or notices people around him, unless his peace is disrupted. a blatant example of this is when he completely misses seongje showing up at suho’s hospital. he doesn’t register what's happening around him until it directly concerns him.

he’s also emotionally private (typical INTJ trait — they don’t like performing vulnerability). sieun is more expressive in his unread text messages to suho than he ever is face-to-face. it's a classic Ni-Fi wall: he feels deeply, but processes everything internally, where no one can touch it.

ahn suho — ESTP (Se-Ti-Fe-Ni)

ESTPs are sensor-thinkers, grounded in the present and driven by logic. suho’s dominant Se (extraverted sensing) makes him highly reactive to his environment. he only intervenes when he senses something is wrong; not out of moral obligation, and definitely not out of concern for consequences. his instincts are fast, physical, and attuned to danger. we see this in his professional fighting skills (MMA trainee and all) and athletic abilities. it's also obvious in the way he expresses love through action, taking on tiring jobs for his grandma without complaint, teaching sieun how to fight. it's a classic Se expression of love: fixing, serving, fighting, guiding.

his Ti (introverted thinking) is what makes him sharp. he’s logical and objective, but not necessarily fair, because he's not led by morals (which doesn't mean that he doesn't have morals at all, but it's not the driver of his decisions). he's loyal to who he cares about, not to any sense of abstract justice. like how he’ll go to hell and back for sieun, but won’t extend that same energy to everyone (this can be backed up by sumin pd, who pointed out that unlike baku, who protects the whole school, suho only protects sieun. baku has a higher moral compass, as a high Fi-user, but more on that later). his humour is also very Ti-coded; dry, clever, and often rooted in logic ("how can you talk about food while eating?" "you talk about life while living it").

tertiary Fe (extraverted feeling) gives him just enough charm and emotional fluency to read a room, crack a joke, or comfort someone. but it’s also fragile. he gets defensive fast, especially when misunderstood or unfairly blamed (like how he gets physically aggressive when beomseok starts beefing with him for no reason). weak Fe makes him take criticism personally and lash out emotionally.

he also has inferior Ni, which means his intuition is weak, and he rarely thinks ahead. like when he gets into gilsu’s car without a solid plan. he improvises well (texting sieun from his watch), but forgets to consider that gilsu could check his phone too.

personality-wise, sieun and suho are actually a lethal pair in combat. sieun has the sixth sense of an Ni-dom, while suho has the reflexes of an Se-dom. but romantically, they’re lowkey doomed. a tertiary Fi and tertiary Fe pair. neither are good at emotional communication. both express love through action and protection, not words.

oh beomseok — INFP (Fi-Ne-Si-Te)

beomseok runs almost entirely on introverted feeling (Fi), a deeply internal moral compass that tells him this is right even when it objectively… isn’t. healthy Fi stands for staying true to your values and beliefs. unhealthy Fi becomes a justification engine. and beomseok's Fi has been warped by years of trauma. that’s how we go from offering to pay suho to save sieun from bullies to wanting to destroy suho for betraying him. he does what he feels is just. the line between good and evil becomes how do i feel about it, and the trauma twists those feelings into something darker.

his Ne (extraverted intuition) gives him imagination and ideas, but unchecked, it creates spirals; overthinking, projection, paranoia. like how he starts believing that suho and sieun were replacing him with youngyi.

tertiary Si (introverted sensing) makes him cling to what’s familiar. that’s why youngyi’s addition to their group unsettles him: she disrupts the group dynamic he’s grown attached to.

his inferior Te (extraverted thinking), the logic function, is like a faint alarm bell in the back of his mind, whispering this won’t end well, but Fi drowns it out. he knows best. or thinks he does.

youngyi — ESFP (Se-Fi-Te-Ni)

youngyi leads with dominant Se, paired with Fi — which means she lives in the moment, feels things deeply, and owns it. she’s unapologetically herself, unbothered by rejection, which is exactly the kind of ability that gets her to befriend someone as guarded as sieun. she isn’t intimidated by anyone. she's grounded in the present, quick to act, and physically assertive, often responding to situations with bold, instinctive energy.

what sets her apart from suho (who's also an Se-dom), though, is that her actions aren't filtered through detached logic (Ti), but through a strong internal value system (auxiliary Fi). she doesn’t analyze her choices with practical calculation, she feels her way through them, led by what resonates with her personally.

but Fi also governs identity. so when beomseok accuses her of ruining the group, and essentially causing suho’s coma, it doesn’t just sting, it shatters her. she doesn’t just feel attacked; she feels like her sense of self is broken. that's why she disappears from everyone's lives, because how can she face sieun, when she can't face herself? that’s the danger of Fi: when it internalizes blame, it takes everything personally.

park humin (baku) — ENFP (Ne-Fi-Te-Si)

ENFPs are chaos with a conscience. and baku is no exception. baku’s auxiliary Fi makes him emotionally honest and morally anchored, but his dominant Ne keeps his mind in motion, always bouncing between possibilities, fears, and imagined futures. that’s why he hesitates to fight again (because what if it ends the way it did with gotak?) but when something triggers his core values (Fi), when someone he loves is in danger, he acts out. consequences be damned.

he jokes around to defuse tension, but he's deeply intuitive, emotionally attuned, and cares more than he lets on. it’s why he’s one of the only people who can get someone like sieun to open up; not by forcing it, but by simply being emotionally available, non-judgmental, and real.

while his high Fi gives him access to vulnerability, it also acts as a strong boundary. he refuses to work with baekjin, despite his history with him, because it violates his sense of right and wrong, because baekjin brutally hurt gotak and ruined his career, which is unforgivable. he only crosses that boundary when threatened and forced.

baku’s tertiary Te is blunt, explosive, and reactive, especially under stress. it acts before planning. when stressed, he grabs for Te, takes charge, punches first, thinks later. his Fi follows his own moral compass. he refuses to fight and preaches non-violence. but when people precious to him are hurt, he almost chokes a guy to death.

seo juntae — ISFJ (Si-Fe-Ti-Ne)

juntae is the emotional backbone of the group. ISFJs are built to nurture, and his Fe (extraverted feeling), paired with Si (introverted sensing), makes him deeply attuned to others' emotional needs. he notices sieun skipping meals, withdrawing, and not sleeping. his Si gives him observational memory; he tracks patterns and changes, then responds with quiet care.

he’s the only character with strong Fe in the whole cast, which is why he's the only one who genuinely hates conflict, and is the peace-maker of the gang, readily resolving misunderstandings and arguments between his friends. Fe also gives him strong empathy, which is what makes him slow to judge. he can easily read tone and emotional behaviour. it’s why he doesn’t believe sieun when sieun lies and says he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, because he knows it’s not true. he’s the one who tells both sieun and bakugotak that the other doesn’t mean what they’re saying.

Fe + Si makes him the one person who understands without demanding. he’s the first to tell sieun, "it’s not your fault," not because he thinks it’ll help, but because he knows it will. and yet, he holds grudges. because Si doesn’t forget. that’s why he refuses to forgive hyoman, even after he joins their side.

go hyuntak (gotak) — ISTP/ESTP (Ti-Se or Se-Ti)

this might be a controversial take since gotak is often typed as an ISFP, but i see a strong mix of Ti and Se in how he operates. i'm still unsure which one leads, but what’s clear is that he’s an active, physical, and analytical thinker. he’s impatient, yes, but also deliberate. he observes, processes, then acts, like when he tells juntae to escape before counting opponents in the underpass fight with seongje, or when he decides to fact-check the rumor that sieun wants to fight him instead of reacting right away.

his Se is undeniable: he’s aggressive, athletic, and always grounded in his body. even after quitting taekwondo, he stays physically engaged, taking up basketball, aggressively skipping rope despite his bad knee, because “he has to do something.” that’s textbook Se: movement as expression. like suho (another high Se user), gotak communicates care through physical action; teaching juntae to fight, teaching sieun how to play basketball, physically lashing out when hyoman insults baku, or breaking into the union garage when baku disappears, even though sieun asked him not to. he acts because he has to: Ti wants clarity, Se wants momentum.

but what truly leans him toward xSTP is his low Fe. His emotional communication is clumsy; he needs baku to prompt him to apologize or say thanks. His Ti strives to stay calm and factual, but his emotions; protectiveness, irritation, and loyalty; simmer just beneath the surface. he doesn’t judge quickly (a sign of Fe-awareness), like how he defends sieun from trashy gossip despite a rocky first impression of him. still, like suho, he lashes out when he feels misunderstood, like when he says cruel things to sieun during their fallout. And with low Ni he rarely thinks far ahead; breaking into the garage wasn’t a plan, just Ti-logic and Se-impulse running full speed.

gotak is a head-heart-body kind of character. he’s loyal without needing to say it, perceptive without being flashy, and thoughtful in a language that often goes unnoticed.

geum seongje — ENTP (Ne-Ti-Fe-Si)

this is really the easiest one to type because seongje is a textbook ENTP: chaotic intellect.

dominant Ne makes him erratic, unpredictable, and dangerously flexible. he's constantly probing, experimenting, and testing limits. people are like a puzzle to deconstruct. Ne is the function that gives you the skill and urge to explore multiple possibilities, which explains how seongje can justify switching sides mid-fight if it feels fun. he'd join his enemies, then betray them for the punchline.

his tertiary Fe doesn’t function like suho or gotak’s, who pair Fe with Se. while suho and gotak are highly reactive and defensive over them/their loved ones being insulted or misunderstood, seongje’s Fe is more detached. he treats insults like jokes ("is it fun playing na baekjin's minion?" "it is fun. i get to beat up losers like you.").

his Fe makes him socially aware, but it's not a strength, it's weaponized. he understands emotional tones, social roles, and twists them to provoke or entertain. he mocks sincerity (like how he laughs at gotak over his protectiveness for juntae) but still craves attention and reaction (feels hurt because baekjin didn't ask him if he was okay after fighting with sieun).

so ENTP makes seongje unpredictable, perceptive, and always a step ahead.

na baekjin — ENTJ (Te-Ni-Se-Fi)

baekjin, as an ENTJ, is essentially a more dangerous, volatile version of sieun. he's smart, strategic, and ruthlessly efficient; a master planner who relies on his introverted intuition (Ni), to forecast outcomes and his extroverted thinking (Te), to execute them with precision. to baekjin, efficiency isn’t just useful; it’s everything. he doesn’t waste time on what feels good or what’s morally right, only what gets results.

but his inferior Fi (introverted feeling) means he lacks the internal framework to process emotions authentically. he struggles to recognize emotional nuance, both in himself and in others, which leaves him disconnected from his own vulnerability. that’s why, instead of just saying “don’t leave me,” he orchestrates emotional hostage scenarios (like threatening to hurt gotak) to keep baku close. it's twisted, but, to him, weirdly efficient. and in baekjin’s world, effectiveness often replaces intimacy.

he knows what works, not what's right. he weaponizes logic without empathy. and you can’t out-think him, because he’s already seen your next ten moves and calculated exactly where you’ll land.

baekjin uses control and intelligence as a shield, mastering manipulation to avoid vulnerability.

so that ends my analysis. if you need a detailed analysis of a specific character, have contrary opinions, questions about mbti, or need any clarification, then leave me an ask!

[2b4st4r]

I hope you don’t mind a jjk request!!

Nanami kento x reader, fluff,maybe it could be during teenage years and they accidentally display too much public affection without realising it or maybe secretly hold hands and stuff but somehow got caught? The others start to tease them about it lol.

And maybe in the future they reminisce about the memories

Hope this is alright for you tq!!

Our Awkward Affection

ֶָ֢⊹𐙚 Nanami Kento x Reader

──★ ˙🍓 ̟!!

٠࣪⭑ Words: 5,530

٠࣪⭑ Warnings: hinted female reader! nothing else really, straight up fluff.

٠࣪⭑ A/N: i hope you liked this! it’s been a while sense i’ve watched jjk so it might be a little rusty.

༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

The summer before your final year of high school was a blur of sun-drenched afternoons and the constant, comforting presence of Kento Nanami. It wasn't that you planned to spend every waking moment together; it just sort of… happened. Your mornings often began with him waiting patiently by your locker, a textbook tucked under his arm and that familiar, slightly exasperated but fond look on his face when you inevitably showed up a few minutes late. During class, your knees would bump under the desk, a silent, unconscious rhythm you both maintained. Sometimes, you'd find your hand resting on his arm as you walked through the crowded hallways, or his fingers would brush against yours as he passed you a pencil, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

People talked, of course. Whispers followed you like a gentle breeze – "Are they together?", "They're practically glued at the hip." You’d just exchange a quick, amused glance with Kento, neither of you bothering to confirm or deny anything. There was no need. Your affection wasn't something you discussed; it was something you lived. Like the time you were studying for a history test in the library, and you, without thinking, leaned your head against his shoulder, letting out a small sigh of contentment as he continued to highlight his notes, completely unfazed. Or the countless evenings spent at his house, ostensibly working on a group project, but more often than not, you'd end up curled on his sofa, sharing a blanket and a bag of chips, your leg draped casually over his, while a movie played softly in the background. You’d catch him looking at you then, a soft, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips before he'd turn back to the screen, but the warmth of his gaze always lingered. You never said "I love you," but the way he always saved you the last bite of his favorite dessert, or the way he'd instinctively reach out to steady you if you stumbled, spoke volumes more than any words ever could.

If anyone had asked you or Kento directly if you were "dating," you probably would have just shrugged and exchanged one of your shared, knowing glances. Labels felt… unnecessary. Your relationship wasn't defined by titles but by the countless small, unspoken gestures that wove your lives together. Most adults, with their cynical sighs and knowing smiles, would murmur about "teenage love" and how it never lasts. But they didn't see the quiet, unwavering commitment that hummed beneath the surface of your everyday.

They didn't see Kento, usually so composed, subtly shift his weight so you could lean against him more comfortably during a particularly boring school assembly. They didn't notice how, when you were frustrated with a difficult math problem, his hand would gently cover yours on the textbook, guiding you to the correct formula without a single word of instruction. And they certainly didn't witness the way he'd meticulously clean your glasses when smudged, his brow furrowed in concentration, before placing them back on your face with a tenderness that made your stomach flutter.

Your love wasn't a whirlwind of grand declarations or dramatic gestures; it was the steady, unwavering beat of two hearts moving in perfect sync. It was the shared blanket on movie nights, the silent understanding during late-night study sessions, and the way your fingers always found each other, whether you were walking hand-in-hand through the park or simply reaching for the same book on a library shelf. There was a comfortable rhythm to your affection, a deep-seated trust that spoke of a bond far stronger than mere adolescent infatuation. You were a unit, a constant in each other's ever-changing teenage worlds, and everyone around you, whether they admitted it or not, knew it.

The unspoken nature of your relationship wasn't a secret, not really. It was more like an open, universally acknowledged fact that simply didn't require official confirmation. You and Kento existed in your own bubble, a comfortable equilibrium that you both instinctively protected. Perhaps it was the sheer effort of explaining it, or maybe the quiet satisfaction of knowing what you had without needing to define it for anyone else. Whatever the reason, the topic of your "status" was something you both expertly dodged.

"So, you two are together, right?" Gojo would ask, his usual boisterous tone dropping into something surprisingly conspiratorial as he leaned between your desks in class. He'd flash a grin that was half-amused, half-expectant. Kento would simply raise an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering, and Gojo would eventually sigh dramatically, muttering something about "dense lovebirds."

Shoko, ever the pragmatist, would usually just observe with a smirk, but sometimes, particularly after witnessing one of your more obvious displays of casual affection – like when Kento instinctively adjusted the collar of your uniform or you absentmindedly tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear – she'd just hum thoughtfully. "You know, for people who aren't 'a thing,' you're really 'a thing,'" she'd deadpan, taking a drag from her cigarette. You'd just offer a noncommittal smile, and Kento would just give her a level stare until she shrugged and walked away.

Geto, always the most observant and least outwardly intrusive, would often catch your eye across the classroom or during lunch. He'd offer a small, knowing smile, a silent acknowledgement that he understood, even if he never vocalized it. Once, after you and Kento had shared a particularly long, comfortable silence over lunch, he just quietly remarked, "It's nice to see, you know." He didn't elaborate, and you didn't ask him to. The beauty of your bond was that it didn't need words, not even for your closest friends. It simply was.

The official moment, if you could even call it that, happened on a crisp autumn evening, the kind where the air smelled of fallen leaves and distant bonfires. You and Kento were walking home from a study session at his place, the streetlights casting long, dancing shadows ahead of you. The usual comfortable silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the crunch of leaves under your shoes.

You were nearing your house when, without thinking, your hand found his. It wasn't the usual brush or accidental graze; this time, your fingers intertwined, a deliberate, firm clasp. Kento's thumb, surprisingly soft, began to trace circles on the back of your hand. You glanced up at him, and his gaze was already on you, steady and warm.

"So," you started, your voice a little softer than intended, "this is… this is official, right?" The question hung in the cool air, not really a question, more of a confirmation.

A small smile, one of those rare, genuine ones that crinkled the corners of his eyes, touched Kento’s lips. He squeezed your hand gently. "Was it ever not?" he murmured, his voice low.

That was it. No grand pronouncements, no dramatic confessions under a starry sky. Just that quiet exchange, the firm grip of your hands, and the unspoken understanding that had always been there, now simply acknowledged. It wasn't something you felt the need to broadcast. It was yours, and his, and that was more than enough. You continued walking, the warmth of his hand in yours a silent promise, a comfortable certainty in the deepening twilight.

Officially dating or not, very little actually changed in your day-to-day dynamic with Kento. You were still a package deal, a constant fixture in each other’s lives. If anything, the subtle confirmation of that autumn evening simply deepened the well of unspoken affection that flowed between you. It was as if a silent permission had been granted, allowing a new layer of intimacy to unfold, one that remained just out of sight from the rest of the world.

Now, your intertwined hands weren't just a fleeting brush but a comfortable, sustained connection hidden beneath the classroom desk, your fingers laced together as Kento feigned interest in the textbook in front of him. During lunch, while others chatted animatedly around you, your knees would bump under the table, and you'd feel the gentle pressure of his foot against yours, a private acknowledgment in the midst of the cafeteria chaos.

The quiet moments became imbued with a new kind of warmth. When studying late at his house, you might find yourself leaning into his side on the sofa, and he, without breaking his concentration on his notes, would subtly shift an arm to rest around your shoulders, a silent embrace that felt like coming home. In the hushed halls before class, if you were tying your shoe, he might place a hand on the small of your back to steady you, a gesture so natural, so protective, it felt like an extension of himself. These were not grand, public displays, but rather a series of soft, continuous connections – a hand resting on your thigh under the table during a particularly long lecture, a light squeeze of your arm as you walked past a group of classmates, or the way he'd meticulously untangle a stray strand of hair from your collar, his fingers brushing your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Each interaction was a secret language, spoken only between the two of you, solidifying a bond that was now officially, undeniably, yours.

The deepening intimacy, however, wasn't just physical. It permeated every aspect of your shared lives, a quiet hum beneath the surface of your everyday. You found yourselves anticipating each other’s needs and thoughts with an almost uncanny precision. A shared glance across the classroom could convey entire conversations – a silent agreement to meet after school, a commiseration over a particularly challenging test, or a playful jab at Gojo's latest ridiculous pronouncement.

You knew, without a word, when Kento was stressed about an upcoming exam just by the subtle clench of his jaw, and you'd instinctively offer him the last piece of mochi you'd been saving. Likewise, he could sense your frustration when you struggled with a complicated kanji, and without fanfare, he'd subtly push his own meticulously organized notes closer to you. Your study sessions often dissolved into comfortable lulls, where you'd simply exist in each other’s presence, the quiet companionship a balm to the pressures of school and burgeoning adulthood.

Even your arguments, rare and usually fleeting, held a unique intimacy. They were never loud or dramatic, but rather hushed disagreements often resolved with a shared sigh and a quiet apology, followed by the familiar warmth of his hand finding yours, a silent truce. This quiet, deep understanding, built on years of shared history and unspoken affection, was your secret, cherished world. It wasn't something you needed to explain or justify to anyone. It simply was, a steadfast anchor in the ever-shifting currents of your teenage years.

The quiet rhythm of your lives with Kento was punctuated by a myriad of small, seemingly insignificant moments that, when strung together, formed the vibrant tapestry of your relationship. They were the kind of moments no one else really saw, or if they did, they didn't understand the depth woven into them.

Like the Tuesday afternoon you had a particularly brutal history test. You’d walked out of the classroom feeling utterly deflated, convinced you'd bombed it. Kento was waiting by your locker, as usual. He didn't ask how it went. Instead, he simply reached into his bag and pulled out a small, perfectly peeled orange, handing it to you. You knew it was his favorite snack, one he always brought for himself. You took it, a silent wave of comfort washing over you, and the frustration of the test began to dissipate with each sweet segment.

Or the time you were stuck on a particularly intricate drawing for art class, your hand cramping, the paper threatening to tear from your eraser's abuse. Kento, who usually just observed your artistic endeavors with a quiet, appreciative hum, simply sat beside you on the floor. Without a word, he took your tired hand in his, gently massaging your palm and fingers until the tension eased. He didn't offer advice on the drawing, didn't tell you to take a break. He just offered his quiet, steadfast presence and a gentle touch that spoke volumes.

Then there were the fleeting glimpses of concern on his usually composed face. You’d been up late studying for an exam, and he’d noticed the dark circles under your eyes. The next morning, a thermos of warm tea, perfectly brewed just the way you liked it, was waiting for you by your locker, a silent command to take care of yourself. These weren't grand gestures designed for an audience; they were intimate, tender exchanges that flowed naturally between you, reinforcing the unspoken truth that you were, undeniably, each other's constant.

Even when the world outside your bubble became chaotic and dangerous, the familiar comfort of Kento’s presence remained your anchor. Missions, with their inherent stress and the constant threat of curses, only served to highlight the seamless way your lives intertwined. The unspoken affection that characterized your everyday moments deepened into something vital in the face of peril.

During a particularly harrowing mission in a dimly lit abandoned building, a curse had unexpectedly lunged at you from the shadows. Before you could even react, Kento was there, not with a shouted warning, but with a sudden, forceful push that sent you sprawling to safety, his own body briefly exposed to the threat. He dealt with the curse efficiently, as always, but the sheer speed of his reaction, the instinctual desire to shield you, was a stark reminder of the depth of his care. Later, when you both caught your breath, he simply gave you a quick, assessing look, a silent question in his eyes. You met his gaze, a silent nod passing between you, an understanding that transcended words.

Another time, after a mission that had left you both drained and covered in grime, you found yourselves leaning against a grimy wall, waiting for Ijichi to pick you up. You were shivering, more from residual adrenaline than the chill in the air. Without a word, Kento unzipped his jacket, shrugged it off, and draped it over your shoulders. The scent of him, faint but familiar, enveloped you, a comforting presence amidst the lingering metallic tang of curse energy. He didn't ask if you were cold, or make a show of it; it was just a quiet, automatic gesture, another thread in the intricate tapestry of your shared existence. On missions, your lives weren’t just intertwined by choice, but by a primal instinct to protect and support each other, proving that your bond was far more resilient than any fleeting teenage infatuation.

The lack of official confirmation regarding your relationship with Kento was, for your classmates, a source of constant amusement and mild exasperation. It was an open secret, a running joke, and a testament to the unshakeable bond you both shared.

Gojo, ever the instigator, thrived on the ambiguity. He’d often "accidentally" bump into Kento, causing him to subtly jostle you, then dramatically gasp, "Oh, my bad! Didn't realize you two were practically fused at the hip today, Nanami!" He’d grin, waiting for a reaction, but Kento would merely sigh, adjust his glasses, and you'd just offer a small, placid smile. Gojo never got the overt reaction he craved, but the sheer predictability of your closeness seemed to amuse him endlessly.

Shoko, on the other hand, approached it with a dry, knowing cynicism. She'd often just observe, a wry smirk playing on her lips. "You know," she'd deadpan to no one in particular, watching you instinctively reach for Kento's hand as you navigated a crowded hallway, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say those two were actually in love." Her tone was always laced with sarcasm, but there was a flicker of genuine fondness in her eyes. She saw the unwavering support, the quiet comfort, and she respected the unspoken understanding that flowed between you.

Geto was perhaps the most quietly appreciative. He never prodded or teased. Instead, he’d often offer a soft, almost imperceptible smile whenever he witnessed one of your casual, intimate moments – Kento subtly adjusting your scarf on a chilly day, or you instinctively leaning your head on his shoulder during a boring lecture. For Geto, your relationship seemed to represent a rare island of genuine, uncomplicated connection in a world that often felt anything but. He saw the strength in your silent devotion, a stark contrast to the often tumultuous dynamics around him. While no one ever got the official declaration, your constant presence in each other's lives, and the undeniable warmth that emanated from your combined aura, spoke volumes more than any spoken words ever could. Everyone knew. They just didn't need you to say it out loud.

Gojo, with his boundless energy and insatiable curiosity, was the one person who simply couldn't let the "Nanami and Y/N" mystery lie. For him, it wasn't enough to simply observe; he needed to prove it, to officially connect the dots and declare your relationship to the world, even if you and Kento remained stubbornly silent. It became something of a personal mission for him, a game he delighted in playing.

He'd start subtly, or at least, what he considered subtle. "Hey, Nanami," he'd call across the classroom one morning, "I saw Y/N looking a little tired yesterday. Did you two stay up late… studying?" His voice would drip with mock innocence, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. Kento would simply offer him his most unimpressed stare, a look that usually silenced even Gojo, but not on this topic. You'd just shrug, feigning indifference, as if late-night study sessions with Kento were the most mundane thing in the world.

His attempts grew bolder. During lunch, he'd suddenly announce, "Alright, pop quiz! What's Nanami's favorite brand of coffee?" He'd look pointedly at you, then at Kento. You'd hesitate for a fraction of a second, because of course you knew – the obscure, slightly bitter blend he always insisted on. But before you could answer, Kento would interject with a dry, "Satoru, focus on your own meal." Gojo would groan in exaggerated frustration, "So close! You two are killing me with this ambiguity!"

One afternoon, after a particularly intense training session, Gojo cornered you both as you were packing up. "Okay, last chance!" he declared, holding up his hands. "If you two aren't dating, then why did Nanami literally throw himself in front of Y/N during that last mission? Explain that!" He puffed out his chest, convinced he had the irrefutable evidence. Kento just adjusted his tie, unperturbed. "It's called protecting a fellow Jujutsu Sorcerer, Satoru. Standard procedure." You just nodded in agreement, a small, private smile playing on your lips. Gojo, defeated, threw his hands up in exasperation. "You two are impossible! Absolutely impossible!" But even in his feigned annoyance, there was an underlying current of genuine affection. He might have wanted proof, but deep down, he cherished the quiet, undeniable bond you and Kento shared.

The truth was, you and Kento weren't actively hiding your relationship. You weren't denying it because, in your minds, there was nothing to deny or confirm; it simply was. You'd probably shout it from the rooftops if someone genuinely asked for a declaration, but the constant, theatrical antics of Gojo trying to "prove" it? That was a spectacle neither of you was willing to interrupt. In fact, it had become a source of quiet, shared amusement.

Kento, usually so composed and outwardly indifferent, would occasionally let a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk play on his lips whenever Gojo launched into one of his elaborate detective schemes. For him, Gojo's relentless pursuit was less an annoyance and more a predictable, if slightly childish, form of entertainment. He'd catch your eye across a room as Gojo dramatically presented a "new piece of evidence" – like the time he'd found a crumpled candy wrapper in your shared study space that definitely had two different types of saliva on it – and a silent understanding would pass between you. It was a private joke, a testament to the fact that even in the chaotic world of jujutsu, you found joy in the absurd.

"Geto!" Gojo would wail, flinging himself onto his friend's shoulder after another failed attempt to corner you both. "They're mocking me! They know I know, but they won't say it! Look at them!" He’d point a dramatic finger across the common room where you and Kento were, predictably, sharing a textbook, your heads close together. "It's torture! Just tell me, Geto, what am I missing? What's the key?"

Geto would patiently pat Gojo's back, a long-suffering sigh escaping him. "Satoru, perhaps some things don't need to be verbally confirmed to be true."

"But that's the point!" Gojo would cry, tears welling comically in his eyes. "The confirmation! The admission! It’s right there! They act like a married couple, they look at each other like… like that!" He’d gesture wildly in your direction. "It's undeniable! Why won't they just say it?" He’d then turn back to Geto, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "Help me, Suguru. You're observant. You see it too, right? Give me a strategy. How do I break them?"

You and Kento, meanwhile, would simply continue with whatever you were doing, perhaps Kento subtly nudging your foot with his under the table, or you resting your hand casually on his arm. The dramatic cries of Gojo were just background noise, a familiar soundtrack to your undeniably, delightfully obvious, and officially unspoken love.

The running gag of Gojo's relentless "investigation" became a cherished, internal joke between you and Kento. Sometimes, when the three of you (or even just the two of you) were hanging out, the topic would naturally arise, and you'd both share a quiet, amused laugh. It wasn't just about deflecting Gojo; it was about the sheer absurdity of his efforts, and the fun you found in letting him squirm.

"Do you think he'll try to get Ijichi to stake out my house next?" you'd whisper to Kento during a particularly tedious lecture, stifling a giggle. Kento would just offer a faint smile, a barely perceptible shake of his head. "Knowing Satoru, he's probably already drafted a surveillance schedule." The thought of Gojo trying to bribe Ijichi for intel was hilarious, and the mental image alone was enough to make your shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

Later, while you were sharing a late-night snack in the common room, Kento might casually remark, "I heard Satoru telling Geto he was going to analyze our 'joint energy signatures' on the last mission. Said it would prove we were 'magnetically linked.'" He'd pause, take a bite of his bread, and then add, "I'm genuinely curious what scientific method he plans to employ for that." You'd snort, nearly choking on your drink. "Oh, definitely some kind of highly classified Gojo-only technique involving excessive staring and dramatic pronouncements."

These were your private moments of humor, born from the shared experience of Gojo’s relentless, yet endearing, prying. You knew most of his "claims" were, in fact, incredibly accurate observations – the "magnetically linked" part was perhaps a poetic exaggeration, but the essence wasn't wrong. Yet, there was an unspoken agreement between you and Kento: letting Gojo go wild with his theories was far more entertaining than simply confirming the obvious. His escalating antics were a peculiar kind of entertainment, a constant, low hum of amusement in your otherwise serious lives. Why spoil the fun by simply admitting what everyone, including Gojo, already knew in their hearts?

The inevitable climax of Gojo’s grand investigation arrived one sunny afternoon in the bustling cafeteria. You and Kento were, as always, seated side-by-side, a picture of quiet domesticity amidst the clatter of trays and chatter of voices. Your hands were interlocked under the table, a familiar comfort, even as you both went about your own business – Kento meticulously cutting his omurice, you sketching idly on a napkin. The usual suspects were all there: Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and a scattering of other classmates, their conversations buzzing around you.

But as the minutes ticked by, an eerie silence began to emanate from Gojo’s direction. He wasn’t eating, not even talking, which in itself was cause for alarm. His vibrant blue eyes were fixed on you and Kento with an intensity that could burn holes through steel. He was like a predator, poised and utterly focused. The air around him practically vibrated with his concentration.

Then, with a sudden, theatrical flourish, he cried, "Oh no! I dropped my… fork!"

He dove under the table with an unnecessary amount of gusto, a cloud of dramatic dust almost seeming to rise around him. You and Kento exchanged a quick, knowing glance, both suppressing smiles. This was it, you realized. The moment of truth, in Gojo's mind at least.

A beat of silence stretched out, then a muffled gasp came from under the table. Gojo re-emerged, his face a mask of triumphant, slightly teary vindication. He wasn't even holding a fork. His eyes, wide and almost impossibly bright, darted between your still-interlocked hands, visible from his low vantage point, and your faces. He opened his mouth, but for once, no sound came out. The jig, from his perspective, was finally up.

A stunned silence fell over the cafeteria. All eyes, which had initially been on Gojo’s theatrical dive, now followed his gaze, landing squarely on your hands, still comfortably clasped beneath the table. The illusion of plausible deniability, flimsy as it had been, had just been shattered by the most flamboyant individual in your entire school.

"A-HA!" Gojo finally shrieked, his voice cracking with a mixture of triumph and betrayal. He shot upright, pointing a trembling finger at your clasped hands. "I knew it! I knew it! They're holding hands! They're holding hands! Right there! In plain sight! You two! You two are… you're… dating!" He punctuated his declaration with a series of dramatic gasps, as if he'd just discovered a new species. Tears, real tears this time, began to stream down his face, part from the sheer elation of being proven right, part from the accumulated frustration of months of fruitless investigation. "All this time! All this pain! You could have just told me!" He turned to Geto, his voice rising to a frantic pitch. "Suguru! They were lying to us! They were deceiving us! My theories! They were all correct!"

The cafeteria erupted in murmurs. Shoko simply took a long, slow drag from her cigarette, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips, as if saying, Took you long enough, Satoru. Geto pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping him that spoke volumes of his daily endurance.

You and Kento, however, just looked at each other. Kento’s usual stoic expression softened, a slow, fond smile spreading across his face. He squeezed your hand, a silent message passing between you. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you, a mix of amusement at Gojo's theatrics and a quiet contentment. There was no point denying it anymore, not that you ever truly had.

You turned your head to face Gojo, whose wailing had now escalated into a full-blown dramatic sob-fest. "Satoru," you said, your voice calm amidst his histrionics, "we were never denying anything. You just… enjoyed the chase too much."

Kento, still holding your hand firmly under the table, added with a rare, almost mischievous glint in his eye, "Indeed. Your reactions were quite entertaining."

Gojo froze, his sobs abruptly cutting off. He stared at you both, mouth agape, the realization dawning on him that you had been in on the joke all along. The tears on his face transformed into a look of utterly scandalized indignation. "You… you knew?! You let me suffer?!" His voice was now a mix of outrage and newfound awe. The game, it seemed, was finally over.

The revelation hung in the air, thick with Gojo’s stunned silence. You and Kento exchanged a quick, amused glance. The joke had landed, and Gojo was thoroughly flummoxed. But then, in a move that truly shocked everyone, including you, Kento did something entirely unprecedented.

With a soft sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all his contained affection, Kento’s hand, still warm from holding yours, moved from under the table to cup your jaw. His thumb gently stroked your cheekbone. His gaze, usually so controlled and composed, was suddenly intensely focused on your lips. Before you could even register the shift, he leaned in and, with a tender deliberation that sent a jolt through you, pressed his lips softly against yours.

It was brief, a gentle meeting, but in the crowded cafeteria, it felt like time itself had stopped. You’d known the quiet brush of his lips against your forehead when he thought you were asleep during a late-night study session, the comforting press of his mouth to your temple when you were stressed, the playful tickle of his nose against your cheek when he was particularly amused. Sometimes, a quick, almost accidental brush against your jawline as he leaned in to whisper something, or a fleeting touch to your neck when adjusting your scarf. But this? This was different. This was undeniable, unambiguous, and utterly public.

The cafeteria, which had been buzzing moments before, fell into a profound, almost reverent silence.

Gojo, who had just recovered from his previous shock, let out a strangled, choked sound, a mixture of a gasp and a yelp. His jaw dropped so low you thought it might hit the floor. His eyes, already wide, somehow managed to widen further, darting between your lips and Kento’s, then to your flustered face. He looked genuinely traumatized, as if his entire understanding of the universe had just been fundamentally altered. "N-Nanami…?! You… you kissed her?!" he stammered, pointing an accusing finger as if Kento had just committed a grave crime.

Shoko actually choked on her cigarette smoke, dissolving into a fit of coughing and then, once she recovered, letting out a surprisingly loud, delighted bark of laughter. "Well, finally," she drawled, wiping a tear from her eye, a genuine, unironic smile lighting up her face.

Geto simply closed his eyes, a soft, knowing smile gracing his lips. He slowly shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him. He looked like a proud older brother witnessing a long-awaited milestone. He didn't need to say anything; his expression spoke volumes of his quiet approval and long-held expectation.

The world slowly started to filter back into focus, the clatter of trays and low hum of conversations resuming, but something had irrevocably shifted. The unspoken had been spoken, the unseen made visible, and it was all thanks to Gojo’s relentless, hilarious prying.

The cafeteria kiss, the legendary "Gojo-induced confession," became an instant, unspoken legend. Yet, in the weeks that followed, the immediate aftermath was surprisingly… understated. The core of your relationship with Kento remained steadfastly the same.

You were still inseparable. Your mornings began with him waiting by your locker, his presence a comforting given. Your knees still bumped under the desks, your hands still found each other under tables, now with a quiet boldness that hadn't been there before. The difference was that now, those subtle touches weren't just for your private world; they were an open secret, acknowledged by everyone around you.

The more obvious displays of affection that had previously been reserved for private moments began to subtly bleed into your public interactions. Kento would still cup your jaw when he leaned in to whisper something only for your ears, his thumb stroking your cheek. You'd find your hand resting on the small of his back as you walked through crowded hallways, a possessive comfort. These gestures, once hidden, were now simply yours, a natural extension of your bond that no longer needed to be concealed.

Gojo, despite his initial shock and theatrical outrage, quickly bounced back. He now reveled in his role as the "official unmasker" of your relationship. "See!" he'd declare to anyone within earshot, gesturing wildly at you and Kento. "I told you! My detective skills are unparalleled!" He even started orchestrating "cute couple moments," like subtly trying to push you closer together in group photos, which Kento would patiently thwart with minimal effort, and you'd just roll your eyes at.

Shoko remained her pragmatic self, but a new, subtle warmth entered her interactions with you both. She'd occasionally offer a knowing wink or a brief, approving nod. There was an unspoken "I told you so" in her gaze, mixed with genuine contentment for her friends.

Geto continued to be the quiet observer, his gentle smile a constant. He seemed genuinely pleased that the comfortable affection he'd always seen between you and Kento was now out in the open. For him, it simply confirmed what he'd always known to be true.

Life, with its missions, classes, and daily chaos, went on. But the subtle shift, the undeniable kiss that had shattered Gojo's last sliver of doubt, had solidified your bond in a way that words never truly could. You and Kento were, unequivocally, together, and the world finally knew it.

[hazbinhotelreimaginedproject]

✨🍎Charlie's Relationships!🍎✨

Vaggie, Angel, Alastor, Lucifer!

✨🍎Charlie + Vaggie🦋🗡️

Ever since their first meeting, Charlie has held Vaggie in high regard. She was the first 'sinner' she had ever officially met, and the first true 'friend' the princess ever had. Strong, organized, determined, a person you can rely on when you're hyperactive, messy, confused, frustrated... lonely... ↓↓↓

Charlie is the ideas person, the one with both wonder and will, and Vaggie is the manager, helping shape the lengthy schemes into direct actions. Sometimes she wonders how she would've gotten this far in her plan without her girlfriend's help.

Wait- GIRLFRIEND!? W-well y-yes, they are both girls a-and they are certainly friends!! Yes!!! Definitely no weird bubbly feeling she can't explain because she's never been in love before!!! LOVE!?!? Uhh y-yeah, of course she loves her best friend!!! Her bestest best friend that she loves and wants to remain friends with forever-- n-nothing more, *sob* y-yeah DEFINITELY!!!

✨🍎Charlie + Angel🕸️🩷

Charlie has been very sheltered her entire life, so to live with one as familiar with hell life as Angel is a great opportunity to learn more about her subjects! And he is proving to be a great teacher! She didn't know a lot about his profession, never had experience dealing with drunk people, nor has she ever witnessed an addict's creativity in finding new stash locations, but after a week with him? Got pretty familiar.

Hes unfiltered and always lets her know whenever he's unhappy with something, which makes reading and accommodating him so much easier! She's often wrong in her readings, but slowly realizes it's because Angel as a person is much more complex than she ever thought possible.

Overtime, she stops looking at him as a subject of study, but as a person she has genuinely bonded with, and they develop an older brother - younger sister dynamic. Soon he also softens a bit and starts teaching her social cues and sinner etiquette so she can learn to navigate her people and their struggles.

✨🍎Charlie + Alastor 🦌🥩

Alastor is a trickster whose reputation precedes him, to the point even the shut-in princess knows to be cautious of him. Completely unpredictable, he is quiet and reserved on some days, and the most talkative extrovert on others, which makes getting him to help or even getting in contact with him absolute hell.

His suggestions are always either violent or absurd, but there is always a pinch of truth to them that she has to sift through and find. Something about him tells her that he's really guiding her on the right path, but something else urges her to be careful.

Another thing that surprised her about him, is that apparently that old-school gentleman loves pranks. He has certainly shown her and the hotel residents so multiple times. And she, of course, lovely gullible she, is his favorite target.

✨🍎Charlie + Lucifer 👑❤️‍🔥

Charlie and her dad... aren't close. It was better when her mother was still around, but now she hardly considers him family. He is the one funding her endeavor, but she hates having to rely on him or ask him for help, mostly because he would always dismiss her with a laugh and start talking about his duck projects or whatever.

She knows it's his curse, she knows he would never truly empathize with her or give her the time of day because of his sin, but she still hates him for it. She hates how he never treats her seriously, she hates when he gives her estimations of when her program would fail, she hates him laughing at her plans like they were children's drawings. She hates him.

... Except she doesn't. She can't really bring herself to. He seems to be trying this time around. Really trying. Almost like hes... fighting himself. If she's already trying to redeem sinners... would it really be a stretch for her to try and redeem the devil? Would she succeed...?

Woah! I'm cooking up so many interesting dynamics I would love to explore in the future! Too bad I will probably be real busy till next year probably. But by my calculations season 2 would release around that time sooo! >w<

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Guilty as Sin? — Chapter Seven

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, professor/student dynamic, oral (m!rec}, alcohol consumption, essentially just porn with plot, these two are in LOVE babes

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

The restaurant Javi had picked out was attached to the lake resort, a casual steakhouse with balcony seating that overlooked the water. You watched the yellow lights from the resort dance across the soft ripples on the lake a story below in between glances at Javier. He’d chosen a simple navy blue sweater and dark jeans for tonight, a casual and absolutely fucking delicious sight that had you reaching for your wine to quell your thirst. Javier scanned the menu that he held in one hand while intertwining his fingers with yours across the table, the gesture doing little to settle the rapid beat of your heart. 

Beyond the sex—which was certainly the best you’d ever had in your life—there was so much to love about him. He was kind, generous, an active listener, intelligent, and funny when he wanted to be, all put together in a stunningly masculine package that had your thighs squeezing together every time his dark eyes found you staring. 

“What?” he asked, one corner of his mouth tilting up slightly. He brought your joined hands over to his lips, placing a gentle kiss over your knuckles before bringing it back to the table. 

“You’re just very nice to look at,” you said, biting your lip to try and contain your smile. Javier laid his menu down before moving chairs to come sit directly beside you. You leaned into him, resting your chin on his shoulder as you shared your menu with him. “What looks good?”

“You,” he murmured into your ear before giving your temple a sweet kiss. “I’ve been trying to read this damn menu for ten minutes now, but I keep getting distracted.”

“Wonder why.” You shrugged, lowering your hand to his thigh just to feel him tense. 

Javier leaned into your ear again, whispering, “Are you trying to make me lose my mind? Because it’s working.”

You grinned, completely lost in this blissful bubble the two of you had managed to create against all odds. “You know, I’m fine with ordering room service instead.”

Javier leaned back, raising his brow at you. “I was supposed to be giving you your first good date. What happened to that, you seductress?”

“Guess you have a point,” you said, giving him a soft smile as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I usually do,” he quipped.

“On the other hand…” You smirked, reaching for his hand as it rested on his knee. Sliding his warm palm up your jean clad thigh—you were forced to change after Javi destroyed your tights—you locked eyes with him as you guided his hand between your thighs. “You should know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Javi let out a soft, lustful sigh at your warmth. He cursed as he leaned in, holding your face in his free hand. You hummed into the kiss, feeling grateful that no one else had chosen to sit out in the brisk early fall air tonight. No, it was just you and him, the stars on the water, and a whole mess of feelings. 

“Fuck, as much as I want to bend you over this table right now, we should probably stop before the waiter catches us,” he mumbled against your lips, sliding his hand away from your center and letting it rest above your knee with a gentle squeeze. He sat back in his chair, lifting the menu back into view while you eyed him with lust drunk eyes. “I can feel you undressing me with your eyes, cariño.”

“I could be undressing you with my hands,” you replied, turning away from him with a smitten grin. “But fine. I guess I’ll just have to pester you with more questions to distract myself.”

“I guess you will,” he said, fighting back a smile. 

“Alright,” you laughed, biting your lip as you watched him study the menu. “How many girlfriends have you had?”

Javier raised a brow at you. “Serious ones?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. 

“One,” he replied. “Through high school until the end of my undergrad degree.” 

“So you’ve been single all this time?” You eyed him suspiciously, giving him a playful side eye. 

“There something wrong with that?” he asked, leaning forward into your space, his gaze locked on your lips. “If I wasn’t single all this time then I never would’ve gotten to meet you.”

“What a line,” you laughed, earning a dimpled smile from Javi. “What happened between you and your ex?”

“She wanted more than what I could give at the time,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. “I was young and just getting started in the world. She wanted marriage and a family, which I did too, just…not at twenty-three. I tried to do it, though. Proposed and everything, but as the months ticked by, I just…couldn’t. So I called it off, left town, and started my career.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you asked, no judgment to be found in your tone, just genuine curiosity. Javier shook his head, giving your knee a squeeze. 

“No,” he said. “I meant it when I said if my life hadn’t played out this way, I wouldn’t be here. And here is somewhere I really fucking love being.”

You lifted your hand to his chin, pulling him in for another kiss. It seemed like you’d never get tired of this wanting you felt every time you so much as looked at him, let alone when he goes and says shit like that. 

“Alright, are we ready to order?” The waiter appeared out of nowhere, catching the two of you mid-makeout. You pulled away from Javi with a bashful smile, reaching for the menu and choosing the first entree that sounded good. Javier opted to have the same, only switching out your choice of mashed potatoes for a baked potato. 

The waiter left, taking the useless menus with him. “Interesting choice with the baked potato.”

“What?” he chuckled. “They’re the best way to have a potato.”

“Strongly disagree,” you gasped, clutching your non-existent pearls. “Fries are the best, mashed potatoes are second, and a baked potato might come in at like number five.” 

“So this is our first argument,” he laughed. “I’ll let you have this one.”

“And the next, and the one after that,” you added, leaning back into him like a moth drawn to a flame. 

“You can have them all as long as you keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, ghosting his lips over yours. You laughed, pecking his lips while wearing a lovesick smile. “So now that you got to ask—“

“Oh no,” you chuckled, settling back into your seat and bringing your drink up for a sip. 

“How many serious relationships have you had?” 

“One, really,” you said, scrunching your nose at the thought of Micah. “Serial cheater, sometimes called me mommy in bed, all around horrible.”

“Mommy?” Javier snorted as he took a sip of his beer. “Jesus. I’m starting to wonder whether it’s just your generation of men that suck this bad or if you just have really shitty luck.”

“You’re one of one, Javier Peña,” you said. “That’s why I’m hoping to keep you around.”

Javier smiled, taking a long sip from his beer. “Well, I’m not going anywhere.” 

“No?” you asked, grinning against the rim of your wine glass. “Not even if I told you I’ve been known to snore every now and again?”

“Now that changes things,” he said, eyeing you in mock consideration. “I think I’ll learn to live with it. Or I’ll just get some earplugs.”

“Anything I need to be warned about?”

“I smoke and I’m a terrible cook,” he replied. “Also a bit of an insomniac, but it’s not like I’ll be getting any sleep anyways with all your snoring.”

“A match made in heaven,” you mused. “Aside from the forced-to-keep-it-a-secret part.”

“Maybe not for much longer,” he said, nervously glancing at his lap. 

“What do you mean?” you chuckled. 

“I mean…I got a job offer from the DA’s office,” he replied, his eyes bouncing back and forth between yours as he watched you take in this incredibly exciting news. “And I know it’s early, and things aren’t, you know, official with us, but I was already considering quitting teaching before meeting you, and now…”

“And now?” you asked, your voice hardly louder than a whisper. Javier took in a deep, steadying breath and gave you a boyish smile that brought out a dimple. 

“And now all I want to do is find a way for us to be together without all this sneaking around and shit,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want to tell you to put any pressure on you or anything, but regardless of where you and I stand, I think I’m gonna take the offer.”

“When would you start?” you asked, tracing your fingertip along the rim of the glass as you tried to comprehend the fact that this man was willing to switch careers in order to be with you.

It had only taken him two months of knowing you to decide that you were worth that much, even if he didn’t know where the two of you stood. The thought alone was enough to have you ready to hand your heart over.

“After the semester ends,” he replied, his knee bouncing under the table as he continued to study your reaction. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking, so could you put me out of my misery and—“

“Javi, I…” You laughed, shaking your head at the miracle that was Javier Peña. “I’d do this thing in secret for a lifetime as long as it meant I got to do it with you, but the idea of getting to kiss you in public or even just hold your hand…it feels like a dream. So that’s what I’m thinking, that you are a really fucking good dream I don’t want to wake up from.”

Javier leaned in, giving you a kiss. “So I’ll take that to mean you want to do this thing for real?”

You laughed, nodding as you gave his lips another soft peck.

“All of it. Snoring and burnt dinners, included.”

You clung to Javi’s arm as you made your way out of the restaurant after dinner, tipsy on wine and Javier’s smile. He’d been whispering nothing but filth into your ear since he asked for the check, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear as you walked down the hall to your suite. 

“You’re talking a big game,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Maybe I have some plans of my own.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow as he slid the key card out of his pocket. “And what are these plans of yours?”

“Well, to start…I’d like to get you out of these clothes,” you said, biting your lip. 

“That’s doable,” he smirked, turning the handle of the door and swinging it open while keeping his eyes on yours. “Then what, hermosa?”

“Well,” you started, leading him into the room just to turn around and back him against the door as he let it click shut behind him. You slid your hands down his stomach to palm him through his jeans. “You’ve gotten to taste me a few times now, but I still haven’t gotten to taste you.”

Javier groaned, settling his hands on either side of your face as he kissed you. You moaned into it, your hands steady as they undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. Javier hissed, breaking the kiss to look down as you took him in your hand and gave him a teasing stroke. 

“Is that what you want, Javi?” you purred, using your free hand to guide his eyes back to yours. Javi looked at you like you held the world in your hands, his brows laced together and lips parted in reverence as you gave him another teasingly slow pump. “You want my lips around—“

Javier cut you off with a groan, settling his hands on your hips as he walked you backwards into the room with his lips devouring your own. You smiled into the kiss, fighting back a laugh as he tripped over your feet, almost sending the two of you onto the carpeted floor. 

“You’re so fucking…” His words trailed off as he let his hands travel up your curves before cupping the weight of your breasts in each. Your laughter faded into a soft gasp as he slid his hands back town to give your ass a squeeze, seemingly unable to decide on what he wanted to worship more. “You’re going to ruin me for all women.”

“Only fair seeing as you’ve ruined me for all men and myself, remember?” Javier laughed, kissing you once before stepping back to shed his clothes. You sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your elbows as you watched him undress. “You’re so nice to look at, Javi.”

He laughed, taking his length in hand and stroking it while you devoured the sight with lust-blown pupils. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like you’re already blushing,” you quipped, leaning forward to take over for him, stroking your hand up and down his angry arousal. “Is this all for me, Javi?”

He nodded, licking his lips as he watched you lower yourself to your knees in front of him. He stroked his thumb over your cheek as you stared up at him with an innocent look in your eyes—or, as innocent as you could look while stroking his dick.  “Fuck. You’re so beautiful, baby.”

“Yeah?” You keened at the compliment, a love-starved woman being fed for the first time in years. “Do you think I’ll look as beautiful with my lips wrapped around your cock?”

Javier groaned, his cock twitching at the question. “How about you show me?”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his reddened tip, the barely there touch causing his stomach to clench. Dragging the tip of your flattened tongue from base to tip, you wrapped your lips around him just far enough to tease before releasing him with a pop. “On the bed.”

Javier raised an eyebrow at you but obeyed, positioning himself on his back in the middle of the giant mattress. “You like being the one in control, hermosa?”

You climbed onto the bed, sitting between his thighs and wrapping your fist around his base. “Sometimes.”

“Then go ahead,” he urged with a smile. “Take control, baby. It’s all yours.”

You smirked, shuffling down to lay on your stomach as you twisted your hand up and down his throbbing cock just to hear him let out a soft hiss. Bringing your lips to his balls, you gave them a suck, your thumb swiping over the precum that leaked from his tip. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. 

You released his balls with a pop, dragging your tongue up his shaft before taking him in deep until you were kissing your closed fist. You worked in tandem with your strokes, flattening your tongue along the underside of his cock as you bobbed up your head and down. Your spit-slick hand followed your lips with a firm squeeze that had his thighs twitching every time you reached his sensitive head. 

“Shit, cariño,” he hissed, one hand cupping your jaw as he sat up on one elbow to watch you. You stared into those brown eyes that reminded you of warm molasses, relishing in every grunt and groan you pulled from his perfectly bowed lips. 

You could’ve been there for a minute or an hour, a moment or a lifetime, but this thing between the two of you seemed to defy the laws of space and time. You weren’t hiding out in a hotel room counting the minutes until you’d have to return to secrecy. No, you were simply a woman worshiping the man who’d revived your faith in goodness, in love. 

“Baby,” he moaned, brows furrowed and eyes fluttering with every sinful gluck as you swallowed him down your throat. “Baby, shit. H-hold on. I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.“

“I want you to,” you said, your voice hoarse and desperate.

Javier shuddered, nodding his head as he watched you take him back into your mouth, his hands now gripping the sheets as you increased your efforts. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m…fuck.”

You hummed, running your free hand over the expanse of his stomach as you held him in deep, letting him come down your throat. He tasted slightly salty, slightly sweet, and surprisingly addictive. You’d never particularly enjoyed the taste of someone else, but be it love or lust or sheer infatuation, you really fucking enjoyed Javi’s. 

“Baby, fuck,” he rasped, running his hand over your hair as you cleaned his sensitive cock with your tongue, making a show of it. “Come up here so I can kiss those fucking lips.”

“But…I just—“

“Do I look like I give a fuck about that?” he asked, a rhetorical question given the raise of his eyebrow as he stared you down. “Come here, hermosa.”

You crawled up his body, leaving kisses up his stomach, chest, and neck before hesitantly ghosting your lips over his. “You’re sure it’s not gross?”

“Do you think it’s gross to kiss me after I eat your pussy?” he asked, placing a feather light kiss against your lips. 

“No, I think it’s hot,” you replied, your voice a husky whisper. 

“Mmhm,” he hummed, lifting his hand to rest on the curve of your jaw. “Dame un beso.” 

You smiled, letting out a soft laugh as you leaned in to kiss him exactly how he wanted it. Deep, slow, and so fucking sexy you couldn’t help but grind your panty-covered core against his softened length. 

“You’re too clothed,” he murmured against your lips, his hands sliding down to your ass to palm you through your jeans. 

“Mm,” you hummed, kissing your way down his neck. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?” he asked, reaching between your thighs to put some pressure on your clit as you rocked against his hand. 

“Leaving my mark,” you moaned, sucking on the soft skin where his shoulder met his neck. Low enough to hide beneath a collar during class, but high enough to give you glimpses of it when you got him alone. 

Javier hissed, rolling you onto your back. You laughed, combing your fingers through his hair as he unbuttoned your jeans and peeled them off your legs. He stared at the wet spot on your panties, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Now I get to leave a few marks.”

“But I need to shower,” you said, coaxing his eyes back to yours. 

“Am I invited?” he asked, hiking up the hem of your sweater to place soft kisses across your stomach. Something about him worshiping the part that brought you the most insecurity was so healing, especially after a relationship full of cruel criticism of your body. 

“You’re always invited,” you replied, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. 

“Alright,” he said, sitting back onto his knees. “I can leave my mark in the shower and then come back and do it again in this bed. And then in my bed, in your bed, in any fucking room I can get you alone in.”

“I’ll be covered in hickeys, then,” you laughed. 

“I’ll only leave them where you and I can see,” he promised. “And only when you want me to.”

“You’re a dream,” you mused, pulling him back down for another kiss that would haunt your memories long after you died. 

“How are we gonna do this once we go back tomorrow?” you asked, tracing your initials across his bare chest as you laid in the darkness with him. He’s just devoted an hour to getting you to climax after climax, the shower you took earlier only acting as a prelude to what he had planned for the bed. “Once I’m back to being your student, I mean.”

“We’ll have to be discreet,” he said, shifting to lay on his side, his elbow propping up his head. “But besides that…it’s just a normal relationship.”

“Except people in normal relationships can go out and not worry about being seen together,” you countered with a half-smile. 

It wasn’t that you cared about going out or anything like that, but there was a gnawing insecurity that perhaps over time Javi would grow tired of the sneaking around and look for someone who he could have a normal life with, one that didn’t involve this much careful planning. 

“It’s only for a few more months,” he assured, stroking his hand up and down your side. “Until then, we’ll just have to find ways to entertain ourselves while we hole up together. I already have a few ideas.”

“I bet I can guess exactly what kind of ideas are floating around up there,” you said, lightly tapping your finger against his temple. Javier moved to nip at your finger, earning a laugh. 

“I was actually talking about showing you my Lego collection,” he returned with a smirk. “I just got the Death Star. Kind of a big deal.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” You giggled as he nodded. 

“Dead serious,” he replied with a laugh. “It’s a good way to busy the mind, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.”

“Does your mind need busying?” His smile faded into something more somber. 

“Sometimes,” he confessed. “I saw a lot of stuff with the DEA, and sometimes the memories come back with a vengeance. Instead of chainsmoking and whoring around like I used to do, I choose to block out those memories with building the fucking Death Star. Healthy, right?

You gave him an empathetic smile, relating to the sadness in his eyes that he tried to cover up with humor. You, too, had a lot of memories to avoid touching, although they likely didn’t hold a candle to the shit he must’ve dealt with. Nevertheless, like calls to like. “I think it’s very healthy, actually. So healthy, in fact, that you’ve convinced me to join you. So it’s too late to take back your invitation, basically.”

Javier laughed, a bit of light fighting back against the darkness in his eyes as he leaned in to give you a chaste kiss. 

“I…” He stopped himself, shaking his head as he stared into your eyes. “Nevermind.”

“What?” you laughed. 

“I just…I almost said something I have no business saying,” he shrugged. “The kind of thing that’s supposed to take longer than this to feel, so I’ll wait, but…I feel it.” 

You knew the feeling well, the four letter word dancing on the tip of your tongue all night. But it was too soon for that, too soon for confessions as heavy as the one that weighed on your heart. You were falling in love with him, quickly and helplessly and without thinking of what it would feel like when you finally hit the ground. 

“Me too,” you said instead.

For now, it would have to be enough.

[ghoularaki]

baby's breath | 13

↠  summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.

↠ word count: 3,071

↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, bondage, emotional manipulation

“What is there to talk about, Officer?” Levi questioned, impudence thick on his tone.

“Levi,” Erwin scolded.

From looking at the outside in, the picture painted was Erwin irritated by Levi’s tone, but you knew better. And maybe the police officer did too from the side glance he gave you.

Hand cradling your elbow, you could only watch the scene unfold in front of you.

“I mean no harm Mr. Ackerman, just some precautionary questions.”

The officer didn’t move the door, his stance lax and friendly. Though his golden eyes glinted with advertency.

Levi scowled at his last name being uttered. His body tensed, not exactly scared but prepared for a fight.

Sniffing out the hostile air, Erwin cut in. “I’m sorry about him. We had a very long day and he just came back from a business trip.”

“I see,” Officer Yeager hummed, obviously not convinced.

Swallowing, Erwin put on his pleasant facade, “What is it you would like to ask?”

“Ms. L/n had a lot of peanuts in her stomach for someone who is allergic and has known since she was a child. Care to explain?”

“That was completely my fault. I made something with peanuts in it without the knowledge that she had been in fact allergic and she had no clue until it was too late.”

The officer smiled with a quirked eyebrow. “How unfortunate. And why was an epipen not administered?”

“She lost it.”

Acknowledging you, he turned all his focus on your recluse form, “Is this true?” He laid his suspicion on thick.

Glancing at Levi, you gulped, “Yes.”

Officer Yeager hummed, “That will be all. Let me walk you guys to the receptionist so you can go home.” His eyes never left you while he spoke.

Walking out the door, he waited for Erwin and Levi to leave first. You stared at him as you followed the two. He closed the door and strided the same pace as you.

You held your breath the whole time. You could tell the truth. You could tell him everything, that you were abducted and stashed away in their pretty, unsuspecting home. Though fear gripped you. The unpredictability terrified you.

You got exactly what you wanted, a chance to escape. Now that it’s right in front of you, you were paralyzed. The officer was your ticket out, but who knew what Levi or Erwin would do.

Reaching the nurse’s desk, Levi beckoned you over. “You have shit you need to sign.”

Your vision wobbled as you stumbled towards the counter. The pen shook in your grasp as you tried to read what laid in front of you.

All you had to say was simple. But the risk was too high now. Both men crowded you and you had no clue what Levi would do. He was an abnormally strong man and he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Was the chance to save yourself worth the risk of the lives now in your hands?

You tried to reassure yourself. Officer Yeager seemed suspicious of them so all you had to do was wait it out. Suspicion wasn’t enough and as the two men crowded you, you knew you were doomed from the start.

Signing the release forms, you didn’t even flinch when Erwin patted your head.

“Let’s get you home,” He spoke with such a soft voice. He must be so relieved.

Placing a hand on your upper back to guide you, his palm burned.

“Have a good day gentlemen, Ms. L/n,” Officer Yeager called out.

Tilting his head back, Erwin called, “You as well.”

Clutching your fingers together in boney knots, you stared straight ahead not processing the blinking halls. Erwin didn’t let go of you until you were all in the elevator. The metal doors screeched closed, leaving you completely vulnerable.

If it weren’t for the cameras, you knew Levi would have been on you in an instant.

“Just wait until we get back. Maybe it will get inside your thick fucking skull once I’m finished with you.”

You didn’t reply, only zoned off.

“Oi, brat, are you listening?” Levi barked.

“Leave it be for now, Levi,” Erwin sighed, fingers pinched the top of his nose to ward off the incoming headache.

The doors dinged open. Entering the lobby, natural beams poured in from the glass sliding doors, breaking up the overwhelming fluorescent lights. Crossing through the frame, you left the hospital unsuccessful. You could only feel anger towards yourself for your cowardness.

The two men hauled you through the parking lot, following the sidewalks until you were at a more secluded area.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Levi was the first to break the silence.

You were about to answer, but Erwin cut in first. “I didn’t-”

“You didn’t fucking know?”

Your lids rapidly blinked as you looked at Levi and then Erwin. What the hell?

“Yes, Levi, I didn’t know. I haven’t exactly had the time to go through her medical records and obviously she wasn’t going to say anything.”

Medical records? He didn’t have access to that unless he was talking about the records given to you when you graduated high school. You remember it being haphazardly stowed away in your apartment. You stopped walking. He didn’t.

The two didn’t notice you paused as they continued to argue. From here, you could see Erwin’s sleek, black car in the distance. Backing away, you were about to run back into the hospital and beg for help, but Levi caught you. Before you could even slip away, his cold hand gripped you so hard a bruise had already formed.

His nails pinched your skin. “Oh no you don’t.”

Dragging you to the car, he threw the door open and shoved you inside. Forcing you to the left seat behind Erwin, he climbed inside with you. Grabbing the seatbelt, he buckled you in and tightened it so hard it dug into your hips.

Levi matched your glower. “Don’t start more shit. I’m already in a bad mood.”

You crossed your arms and leaned away from him to stare out the window. Huffing, he left you be. The door slammed. Glancing at the rearview mirror, Erwin was already looking.

Going back to the window, you rested your forehead against the warm glass. Erwin backed out of the parking lot and took off, taking you away from society.

Hitting the road, you watched all the tall buildings surrounding you. Deep in the center of the city, you even passed your former university. Sadness engulfed you of the life you were never going to have again. Say you do escape, you could never continue as you did before. You would probably have to live like you were being hunted.

The buildings got smaller and further apart as you approached the rural areas. Green trees with spotting oranges whirled past you. Was it already getting colder out?

Remembering the road to get to their house, panic hit you all at once. You were no more than a couple minutes from the home. Despite trying to prepare yourself for what’s to come, you can’t. You can’t do it.

Unclipping your belt, you gently guided it so they couldn’t hear the fabric rubbing against metal. Gripping the handle, you subtly tugged on it, but it wouldn’t budge. You pulled again, but it didn’t give. Freaking out, you rapidly yanked on it, not caring they could obviously hear and see what you were doing.

“Hey!” Levi barked.

You ignored him as you used your full body to jerk at the handle, tears spilling over. The salty water hit your tongue as you openly sobbed. “Let me out! I can’t, please. Let me out, let me out. Let me out, please!”

Erwin sped up to get you home faster, not wanting to pull over and have someone see you like this. They couldn’t have any more witnesses. The police officer had them both on edge.

Unclipping his own belt, Levi leaned over the center console. Fingers wrapped around your nearest arm and wrenched you to the middle seat. Letting go of your arm, he palmed your head and slammed it against the console. You winced at throbbing pain in your forehead. Brain rattled in your skull from the force. He leaned his elbow into your upper back, immobilizing you. Your hands were free and you used one to push against his seat and the other to claw at his hand.

Your feet blindly kicked. You need to get out of this car and away from them.

Nose awkwardly squished against the console, you tilted your head to get air. Levi pressed further into your temple.

“G-get off me. Let me go!” Blubbering, you continued your hysterics.

Opening the glove compartment with his unoccupied hand, he grabbed a bundle of napkins.

“Get off-!” He shoved the crumpled tissue into your open mouth, silencing you.

This only made you cry and flail more.

“You aren’t helping, Levi,” Erwin snapped.

“Well it got her to shut up, didn’t it?”

Grovel under tires only upped your distress. Whining and whimpering through the napkins, drool made it soggy in your mouth. The thin paper clung to your tongue. Weakly grasping at Levi’s fingers, you tried to rip the appendages back.

Shifting the stick into park, the mechanical clunking of the gears only caused you to tug more. Erwin unbuckled himself and exited the car, leaving you with Levi.

“Are you done flipping your shit?”

Exhausted, you let your body sag against the console. Nothing could be done now. Staring at his torso, you nodded the best you could and released your grip on his fingers.

Shifting his hold from your head to your nape, he forced you up. The scowl didn’t leave his face. No pity was given to you. Opening the glove compartment again, he grabbed two more napkins.

Holding one under your chin, he commanded, “Open.”

Letting your jaw relax, the wad fell from your lips. It landed on the brown tissue with a wet plop. A shiny string connected the paper together. Levi’s face twisted in disgust. Grabbing the other napkin, he started to wipe the drool and snot that dripped down your lower face. You sniffled as more tears silently dripped down.

His eyes bounced to yours, holding your bobbling gaze. His lips parted to speak, but Erwin swung open the car door on the left side. Levi released your nape allowing you to turn towards the large man.

“Come,” He grabbed your arm before you could even respond.

Plucking you out of the car, you stumbled on your feet. The other door slammed, Levi rounded the front of the car as Erwin forced you down the driveway. His fingers bit into your upper arm.

“Y-you’re hurting me,” You cried, prying at his bruising grip.

Erwin lugged you closer and bent down to get in your face. “You don’t get the luxury to complain after what you put me through.”

Pushing you up the small stairs of the front porch, he forced the door open and shoved you inside. Unable to catch yourself, you fell on your hands and knees. You gasped at the landing, palms definitely scraped.

Behind you, Levi soon followed Erwin inside. The multiple locks were clicked shut, entrapping you. As the two toed off their shoes, you tried to crawl away, but Erwin quickly scooped you up with an arm around your waist.

Carrying you out the mudroom with a clear destination in mind, he stopped in his tracks at the booming knocks coming  from the door. You still in his grasp, he turned to Levi about to emerge through the doorway.

“You get it, I’ll deal with her.”

Carry you to the living room so he can hear the conversation, he sat on the recliner and twisted you on his lap. You attempted to squirm, but Erwin squeezed so tight around your ribcage until all the air left you. Slapping his palm over your mouth, his hand encompassed your jaw.

Twisting the lock free, Levi opened the door with no regard.

“Yes?” He frowned at the old man stood on their porch.

The old man couldn’t be younger than 70. He seemed quite healthy for his age, but obvious wear and tear on his wrinkled skin. Put off by Levi’s standoffish attitude, he tried to smile to lessen the tension.

“I’m sorry to disturb you. Lately I have been seeing lights flicker on and off at night, and it's been making it difficult for my wife to sleep.”

Your heart dropped and you stilled in Erwin’s lap. Everything was going wrong today. Nothing had been going according to plan. You wanted to pull your hair out.

Confused, Levi tried to explain it away to get the old man off his fucking porch. “It must be me getting up at night. I have insomnia. I’ll try to be more conscious about it.”

The old man smiled, but tersely like he didn’t believe him. “That’s quite alright. Sorry, again.”

He walked off, but stopped and you could see his shadow through the curtains as if looking for something. His shadow slowly dissipated until he was completely gone.

Levi slammed the door causing you to jump. “Fucking old people,” He mutters as entered the living room.

“Is he gone?” Erwin questioned, his voice brushing against the top of your head.

“Should be.”

“Go get what you need, I will explain her punishment.”

This kick started your fight once more. You scratched at Erwin’s arms. Whatever they had in mind, you didn’t want to partake in at all. You refuse to be degraded like all the times they punished you before.

“Settle,” He demanded in your ear, clutching you tighter to his body.

Screaming against his palm, you opened your mouth to bite, but he removed his hand before you could.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” You sobbed, punching at his arms.

Erwin grunted at your elbow jamming into his front. Gathering up your wrists with one hand, he held them down, immobilizing you. Your legs kicked and thrashed.

Levi entered to see the spectacle before him, “She seems to be taking it well.”

“Your sass—knock it off,” He growled at you before continuing, “isn’t appreciated.”

“Of course she isn’t taking it well, let me go!” You countered, hating how they talk like you weren’t in the room.

“Muzzle or restraints first?”

Focusing on Levi, in his grasp sat the mitten restraints, muzzle and shock collar. You rapidly shook your head, you didn’t want to be restrained again.

“Restraints.”

Coming to you, Levi kneeled before you and Erwin. Letting go of one hand, Erwin held the other as Levi started his work. Clutching your wrist, he shoved your hand deep into the mitten, your fingers tucked in. Fastening the belt, he went for your other hand. Erwin switched his hold so you couldn’t jerk away from Levi.

“Were you able to explain or was she throwing too big of a tantrum,” Levi asked Erwin, his attention purely on the bondage.

“I am not throwing a fucking tantrum,” You seethed.

Levi raised a brow and slowly rolled his eyes up to yours. “You’re not? Then explain why Erwin has to hold you down like a toddler. Or I don’t know, we had to go to the fucking hospital because things aren’t going your way.”

“You fucking kidnapped me! I just want to be treated like an adult and you freaks- ow!” You hissed.

Levi tugged the other belt so hard it pinched your skin. His pull forced you down closer to him.

“Enough,” Erwin said, he shifted you in his lap to face him. Your knees straddled his hips as you sat more in the middle of his thighs rather than on his crotch. Lifting your hair up, he allowed Levi more access to your neck. Levi stood up to get a better vantage point.

He continued, “Time and time again I try to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you keep disappointing me. Anytime we give any leeway, you only hurt yourself. Until you can learn, we are in control of everything.”

You opened your mouth to rebuttal they already are, but Erwin raised his hand to stop you.

“You are no longer going to eat by yourself, bathe by yourself, dress by yourself, go to the bathroom by yourself. Anything you do, you need permission. You can’t be trusted.”

From behind, Levi slipped the shock collar around your throat, fastened the loop and locked it. Letting your hair fall, Erwin’s hands rested on your hips.

“How can I get permission if you’re just going to gag me?”

“You’ll see.”

Your fingers curled in the leather mittens, “This isn’t fair. I’m not some animal, I have rights.”

Bringing the muzzle around, with his hand on the cage, Levi adjusted it on your lower face. “You’re lucky we are even allowing clothes. Being restrained is the least of your worries.”

Wrenching the belts tight enough, you were completely gagged. Hovering over you, Levi planted his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs dug into your collarbones.

Erwin leaned to give a kiss on the edge of the muzzle, his nose brushing against your cheekbone. His hands slipped up your t-shirt to caress the bare skin of your waist. “Even with Levi’s crude cuffs and gag, you’re so beautiful like this.”

Levi huffed from above you, “Sorry I can’t stand your stupid frilly, pink shit.”

“I wasn’t complaining, just making an observation.” Erwin gave one last kiss to your temple and pulled away. “I have work to do, keep her occupied.”

Lifting you off Erwin by your waist, he planted you next to him on the couch. Erwin got up and walked off, leaving you with Levi. Curling in on yourself as much as you could, you scooted away.

“Come back here,” Levi instantly put his arm around your shoulders and forced you back to him. “You better get used to being touched because you’re not even getting an inch away from us.”

You snarled, unable to do more than that.

“Bitch and moan all you want, you’re not getting out of this for a while. Next time don’t be so impulsive.”

You hate that he was right. Next time, as he said, you will be a few steps ahead. You’ll take this as a learning curve. You were getting out of here, alive. 

[lovelettersforthedamned]

You Are Such A Distraction

--genre + trope: FLUFF omg, sfw

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

--word count: 0.6k

--summary: you can't help that you're boyfriend, peter, is just so deliciously cute when he works.

--warnings: kissing, so much fluff, teasing.

--gif credits: @peterparkcr

There was nothing like seeing Peter work on something he’s passionate about. You’re sure you could sit on the couch for a lifetime if it meant watching his hands meticulously work on his craft. Sure, it’s not knitting or building a puzzle, but it was far more complicated than that. Mixing different chemicals into a glass, he sticks his tongue out as he quickly studies his notes one more time. He’s made web fluid hundreds of times, but he still looks at the notes he’s had since high school. 

You just couldn’t stop staring at him, it’s the way his shoulder muscles move as he lifts his arm, his laser-sharp focus, and especially the way his hands are moving to create the thing that saves so many lives every night. You must’ve zoned out a little bit because you completely missed the movement of Peter looking over at you. His voice startles you a little as he begins to speak, “Watcha lookin’ at, bug?”

Your eyes quickly meet his as you feel a warmth spread to your cheeks, “Oh! Uh-nothing. You’re just…a little distracting.”

His hands stop moving as he hears your confession. You become much more entertaining than his web fluid, completely disregarding his current project to walk towards you on the loveseat. “You think I’m distracting?” he teases. 

You can’t say anything, your voice is suddenly useless.

“Tell me more,” he adds.

You clear your throat before continuing, “You know.” You didn’t want to tell him still, too embarrassed that you were caught ogling your boyfriend. 

“No,” he continues to tease, “I don’t actually. Tell me.”

Still flustered, you rise from the couch with a grin on your face, trying to escape the situation entirely. As you stand, you feel a warm hand grab yours. You turn to face Peter’s sickly sweet doe eyes. “Hey, wait,” he kisses the top of your hand, “what’s on your mind, bug?”

Guiding you back to sit close to him, you finally speak your mind, “I’m just…You’re just so cute when you work.” 

A cocky smile finds its way onto Peter’s features, “Aw, you think I’m cute?” 

His face is suddenly very close to yours as he tries to rub it in. Pushing his face away you look at him, “Yeah, you’re annoying too.”

“Woah! I thought I was cute,” he looks at you offended, “What happened to that?”

A giggle leaves you as you lift your hand to hold the side of his face. Peter leans in as he expects a kiss, to which he is quickly interrupted by your voice, “Oh, you are, don’t worry,” you start, “you’re annoying too, bug.”

He leans back with one sharp motion. A pained look twists his face as he brings his hand to his chest as if you’ve actually hurt him, “Ouch! That was pretty low.”

“Mhm, sure it did,” you respond sarcastically, pulling him in for the kiss he’s been aching for this entire time. It’s sweet, but incredibly short as Peter pulls away abruptly.

“I thought I was annoying?” a smug expression written on his face, still within inches of yours.

Your eyes are still focused on his lips, clearly yearning for his touch, “Shhhhh.”

Pulling him back in for another kiss, he finally complies, giving into your touch to kiss you properly this time. 

--this is just something sweet, because it's only wednesday and im so tired already. my ask/inbox is open...so send me some ideas for future fics, or if you just wanna talk i'm all ears! please support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!!!! ok, bye ily <333.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Scientific Inquiry

Scientific Inquiry - a form of problem-solving and questioning that helps people come to a greater understanding of observable phenomena.

An understanding of this style of scientific reasoning forms the basis upon which the nature of science itself rests.

Once you become familiar with scientific inquiry, you can use it for specifically science-related study or as just one additional tool in your arsenal of critical thinking skills.

Core Elements of the Scientific Inquiry Process

From encouraging scientific questions to facilitating well-reasoned conclusions, the scientific inquiry process helps illuminate our understanding of the world. Here are 7 core elements to the scientific inquiry process:

Asking constant questions: At the center of both the scientific method and general scientific inquiry lies the ability to ask questions well. Make observations about a particularly interesting phenomenon and then pose questions about why such a thing happens. Let preexisting scientific theories guide your questioning, but keep in mind every theory continues to be just that—a theory—until scientific inquiry definitively proves or disproves it.

Testing your inferences: Scientific progress hinges on your ability to experiment and test inferences about evidence. To do so, you need to set up an independent variable (something you will use to test) and a dependent variable (the thing or things you are testing). Seeing how well your inferences or predictions match up with the reality of a given experiment is essential to scientific inquiry.

Making connections: As you make observations about a specific phenomenon, make connections with every other relevant topic you can remember from your past science lessons or research. Scientific knowledge is as much a result of old realizations as it is of new discoveries.

Seeking evidence: As you seek to understand the natural world, there’s no substitute for hard evidence. Collect data and gather evidence relentlessly throughout your scientific investigations. The more evidence you have to answer your initial questions, the more ironclad your ultimate case will be when you draw conclusions.

Classifying data correctly: Science is as much a process of data collection and classification as it is of asking and answering questions. This means knowing how to elucidate or graph out your discoveries in a way other people can understand. It also means using citations from other scientific journals and texts to bolster your ultimate argument as to why a particular phenomenon occurs.

Drawing conclusions: Eventually, you need to draw conclusions from the data you collect. After you’ve made an exhaustive study of your specific focus, use inductive reasoning to make sense of all the new evidence you’ve gathered. Scientific ideas are always malleable and never completely concrete—alternative explanations are always possible, and new evidence should lead to new questions and conclusions.

Sharing findings: Science is an innately group-centered discipline. The more people interpret data, the better chance there is to ensure there are no loopholes in new research. No one person’s understanding of science content is infinite, so it’s important to let other qualified people ask questions of your conclusions. Natural science is more of a never-ending collaborative process than one with a concrete point of termination.

Teaching science means ensuring learners understand how to conduct qualitative and inquiry-based learning.

Science teachers must utilize a pedagogy that foregrounds hypothesizing, experimenting, and drawing on other scientific knowledge in both theoretical and practical ways.

Educational research indicates that it can help students see the correlation between scientific inquiry and everyday life, whether in elementary school or high school.

This sort of analogization helps people understand that a scientific frame of thinking is quite intuitive when you observe it within more commonplace parameters.

As a simplistic example, imagine a student has a hard time understanding the effect of heat as an abstract force.

Allowing them to observe the degree to which bread burns at different temperatures in a toaster would help make the point clear in a more hands-on way.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[thegirlingold]

Hiii can u make a post on study tips and and just like having a healthy relationship with school/ studying?? Thanks !! X

Hii! sure, hope this helps <3

The Golden Guide to... having a better relationship with school!

Shift your mindset

Replace "I have to" with "I get to"

There are so many kids in the world who don't have the opportunity to go to school or even the resources to study in general; it is something that we are privileged to have access to. We are so lucky that we get to go to school, it isn't a burden, its a blessing.

Instead of "Ugh I have have to go to school", think "Yay, get to go to school!"

Instead of "I have to study" think "I get to study"

This uses a phycological concept called "intrinsic VS extrinsic motivation", which explains how people are more inclined to do things that they think is a privilege to do rather than an obligation.So if you start thinking going to school and getting to study is a privilege, you would have a better relationship with it and feel more motivated at the same time!

Set realistic goals

Aim for progress, not perfection

Lets say you got 70% on your math test and you want to bump up your grades. Instead of setting a goal of scoring 95%, aim to get anywhere between 75 and 80%

This is much more realistic and achievable If you aimed for a 95%, it would be highly unlikely for you to achieve in a short period of time + if you didn't reach it, you would have felt bad and your self confidence could lower. You may end up convincing yourself that you are simply bad at school, when in reality, the goal just wasn't achievable. On the other hand, if you aimed for 75-80%, the chance of you scoring that would be very high + seeing that grade on that paper would make you feel like you can do better and your confidence in that subject and your abilities would increase.

Stay organised, but not overwhelmed

Keep yourself on track, but don't overwhelm yourself with to many things

Prioritise tasks

If you have 3 tasks, one which you know you'll spend a lot of time doing + two which would take a short amount of time to complete, do the small tasks first.

This makes sure that you wont get too carried away doing the big task, leaving you with a short and stress inducing amount of time left to do the short ones.If you first do the small tasks, it wont take you too long, leaving you with a good amount of time & an easy time limit to complete the bigger project!

Use a calendar

Use a calendar to mark the start and due dates of your assignments & the dates of any exams or events

Study Techniques

Use past papers

Just search up "*subject* *topic* *grade/year level* *curriculum* past papers"

e.g. Biology human body IGCSE past papers

2. Pomodoro technique

Study for 25 mins, then take a 5 min break (you can change how long you want to study for and how long you want the breaks to be)

There are pomodoro timers online

3. Active recall

This is good for memorising

Instead of only reading your notes, actively test yourself by recalling information from memory

4. Blurting method

Write down everything you remember, then check your notes and see what you've missed.

5. Feynman technique

Teach the topic as if you were explaining it to a five year old.

6. Spaced repetition

Review your information at increasing intervals

E.g. Review your information on day 1, then day 3, then day 7, etc

my tips!

Make note taking fun by using different colours/types of pens

I like using a cute highlighter/marker, a coloured pen and a black pen (but I use a pencil too for math)

Play around with the formatting, until you find one that works best for you - you can do this in class when your taking notes on different topics & pick which one you like best! Don't stress on aesthetics, just go with the flow and do what feels right

This makes note taking much more fun & aesthetically pleasing so your also more inclined to read them

2. Use post its or a small note book to write down your homework

When your teacher is giving you your homework in class, write it down so that you don't forget and check on it when you come back home so you know what work you get to do!

3. Use save my exams to revise and study for your assessments

It's extremely helpful as it has videos, notes and exam questions

It's free (but if you don't have premium, you don't exam questions and you can only read up to 5 notes a week)

It is based on your grade/year level and curriculum

Premium is very affordable - like $5 a month

I hope this helps yall!

xoxo,

The Girl In Gold

[swanwonyoung]

my simple wonyoungism routine ᡣ𐭩

‧₊˚ ⋅ ☆ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ೀ

hello everyone ! i was writing about what i want to keep doing in march, and since i fully came back to wonyoungism, i wrote what i want to keep doing and what i don't, i also wrote a mini guide on paper, that helps me know what works for me, and i thought about sharing with you guys, i hope it's easy to understand and that you like it 🧸ྀི xo, sunny.

ᯓ★ what works for me in wonyoungism ★ᯓ

waking up early and going to bed early is helping me maintain the routine i want and is helping me build the habit of having discipline;

basic skin care routine, washing my face 3 times everyday (or more if needed), moisturizer helps me a lot too, sunscreen i forget sometimes but i'm trying not to, because it's the main step everyone needs, i don't do a lot, but exfoliating once a week and using the face moisturizer already helps me to have a nicer skin;

writing, journaling, just putting my thoughts on paper helps me maintain mental clarity instead of getting worked up over anything;

lucky vicky mindset, this one changed my life and i'm not even joking, i started 2025 like someone so much more positive and i've never been like that, and now I'm only getting better at it, i can't even think about being negative, i already consider this a lesson that will pass and i'll learn more about myself, it really helps;

stretching, at any time actually, when waking up, in the middle of a task, in the afternoon, before going to sleep, any time, after all it helps me to get rid of the tension that my body may be feeling at the moment;

studying ! even though i graduated from high school in 2020, i never stopped studying, and i even started studying other languages, making it an official part of my routine for 3 years, because before i studied randomly, this helps me to always be up to date and pay attention to everything.

"But... is the routine already finished?"

"What do you mean with you don't do a complete routine where you don't have time to rest?"

"Where are the 10 skin care steps?"

well, i know some people see those toxic wonyoungism routines and think that everyone in wonyoungism does this kind of stuff, actually that was one of my purposes in writing this post, to bring back the essence of wonyoungism and remind people that not everything they see on the internet is real, there will always be a good and bad side to any aesthetic/trend, as it depends on the person who is practicing it.

and many people on the toxic side created a version of wonyoung that doesn't even exist, they took the strawberry and milk scene and made that "her routine", EVEN when she was still on izone she said that teenagers (like she was) shouldn't go on diets, they created a routine where people have to wake up super early, not sleep properly because some people have difficulty, anyways, they created a bunch of lies and made people follow the same toxic routine.

and this kind of routine was never part of my wonyoungism and I don't even support it, i believe that we should all be free to make our interpretation of something as long as it doesn't harm another person, and my wonyoungism is not just about glow up or lifestyle, it also involves my mental health and my mindset.

and now we finally found the part i wanted to talk about, what i think inside and outside of wonyoungism and what effect it has on my life :

I think that being negative instead of positive only hurts me, so i try to see the bright side of the situation or how i can turn it into something good, instead of going back to the old habit of being negative;

With wonyoungism I see my routine as something more fun and worthy of being romanticized, but without going overboard! And that helps me move forward every day;

I take everything Wonyoung says and try to adapt it to my reality, and it helps me see the world in a way i didn't see before, it happens almost every day;

Even when I do pilates or workout at home (i recommend hinafit on yt, I think about what this will bring me and what this will help improve in my life, for example, the disposition and energy I need to help me move daily;

To study I always think about what I want for the future and how this is helping me a lot right now so this future can actually become real, and this motivates me to be better and learn a lot;

I have a flexible routine, so I can be productive every day in different ways that don't tire me out;

but have a specific time to wake up and sleep so that my body and mind get used to it (6 am club 🎀) and i'm feeling way better now;

I could even write more about it , but as I mentioned, my routine changes every day, but I try to have some fixed things in it that I like to do every day, even if it's at different times, and I'm slowly getting back to my simple workout or Pilates routine, because I had my wisdom teeth removed and couldn't do much.

If you're confused, here are some things I like to do (almost?) every day:

to dance (trying to create my choreographies);

sing (and attempt to write songs);

to write (journal or anything);

learn japanese or korean (or any other i want to);

stretching;

listen to music and study anything i want;

learn about fashion, personal growth, self-love, self-respect, habits, routines, and more;

obviously i watch my favorite kpop groups on youtube, but when i want motivation i watch ive's content;

i like watching documentaries, films and series, and getting a lot of my knowledge from the;

stay silent and think, without using my phone or watching TV, i just like to stay silent and think about everything (this is how the inspiration for my posts begins);

leisure time: playing games on my phone, or the sims 4 on the video game, watching videos on YouTube (not kpop), dancing and singing a lot, lots of things ngl;

and while I was writing my mini wonyoungism schedule for this whole year, I had this reflection here:

Instead of regretting what you didn't do (whether it was the day before yesterday or years in the past), start doing what you need or want to do right now, Don't put it off until later, because you're disappointing the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with, yourself.

written by swanwonyoung on tumblr 🦢